turned very gray,
and her thin lips pressed each other. But she bent her head. "So be it,"
she said; "I cannot do murder. Send for Dario Castanares."

"And tell him to take her to perdition," roared the old man. "Never let
me see her again."

He went down the stair, filled a small bag with gold, and gave it to the
doctor. He found Joaquin and bade him go for Dario, then shut himself in
a remote room, and did not emerge until late that day.

Dona Jacoba sent for the maid, Malia.

"Bring me one of your frocks," she said, "a set of your undergarments, a
pair of your shoes and stockings." She walked about the room until
the girl's return, her face terrible in its repressed wrath, its gray
consciousness of defeat. When Malia came with the garments she told her
to follow, and went into Elena's room and stood beside the bed.

"Get up," she said. "Dress thyself in thy bridal clothes. Thou art going
to marry Dario Castanares to-day."

The girl looked up incredulously, then closed her eyes wearily.

"Get up," said her mother. "The doctor has said that we must let our
daughter marry the half-breed or answer to God for her murder." She
turned to the maid: "Malia, go downstairs and make a cup of chocolate
and bring it up. Bring, too, a glass of angelica."

But Elena needed neither. She forgot her desire for death, her
misgivings of the future; she slipped out of bed, and would have taken a
pair of silk stockings from the chest, but her mother stopped her with
an imperious gesture, and handed her the coarse shoes and stockings the
maid had brought. Elena raised her eyes wonderingly, but drew them
on her tender feet without complaint. Then her mother gave her the
shapeless undergarments, the gaudy calico frock, and she put them on.
When the maid returned with the chocolate and wine, she drank both. They
gave her colour and strength; and as she stood up and faced her mother,
she had never looked more beautiful nor more stately in the silken gowns
that were hers no longer.

[Illustration: "HE BENT DOWN AND CAUGHT HER IN HIS ARMS."]

"There are horses' hoofs," said Dona Jacoba. "Leave thy father's house
and go to thy lover."

Elena followed her from the room, walking steadily, although she was
beginning to tremble a little. As she passed the table in the library,
she picked up an old silk handkerchief of her father's and tied it about
her head and face. A smile was on her lips, but no joy could crowd the
sadness from her ey