arrassed look. Instantly a
dark chilling cloud seemed to settle down on the poor youth's spirit.
Mingled with a host of other indescribable feelings, there was one, very
strong, of indignation; but with a violent effort he controlled his
features, so as to indicate no feeling at all.

"This is an unexpected meeting, Manuela. I had hardly hoped for it, as
we set off very early to-morrow; but I'm glad we have met, for I should
never have got over the feeling that I had been unkind in going off
without saying good-bye. Do you make out what I mean? I think you
understand English better than my bad Spanish."

"Yes--I understan'. I very sorry we part. Very, _very_ sorry.
Good-bye."

She put out her hand, and Lawrence mechanically took it. There was
something so ridiculous in this prompt and cool way of parting, after
having been so long together, that the youth could scarcely believe he
was awake. Had this pretty little Inca princess, then, no feeling
whatever--no touch of common tenderness, like other girls? Did the
well-known stoicism of her race require that she should part for the
last time from the man who had twice saved her life, with a simple "I'm
very sorry. Good-bye?"

He felt cured now, completely. Such a _spirit_, he thought, could not
command esteem, much less affection. As neither body nor spirit was now
left to him, he began to feel quite easy in his mind--almost desperately
easy--and that paternal, fraternal Platonic interest in the child which
we have before mentioned began to revive.

"Well, Manuela," he said at last, with a stupendous sigh, as though he
were heaving the entire Andes off his rugged old shoulders, yet with a
brotherly smile as he patted the little brown hand, "you and I have had
pleasant times together. I could have wished--oh! how I--well, hem! but
no matter. You will soon, no doubt be among your own people again. All
I would ask of you is sometimes, when far-away, to think of me; to think
of me as perhaps, the presumptuous young fellow who did his best to make
a long and rather trying journey agreeable to you. Think of me,
Manuela, as a father, and I will think of you as my little Indian girl!"

"I will fink," she said, dropping her grave eyes on the ground, and the
stoicism of all the Incas seemed to be concentrated in her look and
bearing at that moment, "t'ink of you as a fadder."

"Good-bye," he said again.

"Good-bye," she replied.

He had intended to print a