r ample
figure swinging from side to side like a large pendulum.

II

The next day Eulogia was sitting on her window-seat, her chin resting on
her knees, a volume of Dumas beside her, when the door was cautiously
opened and her Aunt Anastacia entered the room. Aunt Anastacia was
very large; in fact she nearly filled the doorway; she also disdained
whalebones and walked with a slight roll. Her ankles hung over her feet,
and her red cheeks and chin were covered with a short black down. Her
hair was twisted into a tight knot and protected by a thick net, and she
wore a loose gown of brown calico, patterned with large red roses. But
good-nature beamed all over her indefinite features, and her little eyes
dwelt adoringly upon Eulogia, who gave her an absent smile.

"Poor little one," she said in her indulgent voice. "But it was cruel in
my sister to throw ashes on thy lover. Not but what thou art too young
for lovers, my darling,--although I had one at twelve. But times have
changed. My little one--I have a note for thee. Thy mother is out, and
he has gone away, so there can be no harm in reading it--"

"Give it to me at once"--and Eulogia dived into her aunt's pocket and
found the note.

"Beautiful and idolized Eulogia.--Adios! Adios! I came a stranger to
thy town. I fell blinded at thy feet. I fly forever from the scornful
laughter in thine eyes. Ay, Eulogia, how couldst thou? But no! I will
not believe it was thou! The dimples that play in thy cheeks, the sparks
that fly in thine eyes--Dios de mi vida! I cannot believe that they come
from a malicious soul. No, enchanting Eulogia! Consolation of my soul!
It was thy mother who so cruelly humiliated me, who drives me from thy
town lest I be mocked in the streets. Ay, Eulogia! Ay, misericordia!
Adios! Adios!

"JUAN TORNEL."

Eulogia shrugged her shoulders. "Well, my mother is satisfied, perhaps.
She has driven him away. At least, I shall not have to go to the
convent."

"Thou art so cold, my little one," said Aunt Anastacia, disapprovingly.
"Thou art but fifteen years, and yet thou throwest aside a lover as if
he were an old reboso. Madre de Dios! In your place I should have wept
and beaten the air. But perhaps that is the reason all the young men are
wild for thee. Not but that I had many lovers--"

"It is too bad thou didst not marry one," interrupted Eulogia,
maliciously. "Perhaps thou wouldst"--and she picked up her book--"if
thou hadst read the Senor Duma