o she had been the bride of a brilliant young
Mexican officer for a few brief years; her youth had gone with his life.

She avoided the company and went round to the buildings at the back
of the house. Approving here, reproaching there, she walked leisurely
through the various rooms where the Indians were making lard, shoes,
flour, candles. She was in the chocolate manufactory when her husband
found her.

"Come--come at once," he said. "I have good news for thee."

She followed him to his room, knowing by his face that tragedy had
visited them. But she was not prepared for the tale he poured forth with
violent interjections of English and Spanish oaths. She had detected
a flirtation between her daughter and the uninvited guest, and not
approving of flirtations, had told Joaquin to keep his eyes upon them
when hers were absent; but that the man should dare and the girl should
stoop to think of marriage wrought in her a passion to which her
husband's seemed the calm flame of a sperm-candle.

"What!" she cried, her hoarse voice breaking. "What! A half-breed
aspire to a Cortez!" She forgot her husband's separateness with true
Californian pride. "My daughter and the son of an Indian! Holy God! And
she has dared!--she has dared! The little imbecile! The little--But,"
and she gave a furious laugh, "she will not forget again."

She caught the greenhide reata from the nail and went up the stair.
Crossing the library with heavy tread, as if she would stamp her rage
through the floor, she turned the key in the door of her daughter's room
and strode in. The girl still lay on the floor, although consciousness
had returned. As Elena saw her mother's face she cowered pitifully.
That terrible temper seldom dominated the iron will of the woman, but
Santiago had shaken it a few days ago, and Elena knew that her turn had
come.

Dona Jacoba shut the door and towered above her daughter, red spots on
her face, her small eyes blazing, an icy sneer on her mouth. She did not
speak a word. She caught the girl by her delicate shoulder, jerked her
to her feet, and lashed her with the heavy whip until screams mingled
with the gay laughter of the parting guests. When she had beaten her
until her own arm ached, she flung her on the bed and went out and
locked the door.

Elena was insensible again for a while, then lay dull and inert for
hours. She had a passive longing for death. After the suffering and the
hideous mortification of that day t