eet.

"You are a very prudent girl," the old officer whispered to her. "You
did well to give up the letter. You have thus assured yourself an
untroubled future."

With startled eyes she watched him move away from her, and bit her
lip. Fortunately, Aunt Isabel came along, and she had sufficient
strength left to catch hold of the old lady's skirt.

"Aunt!" she murmured.

"What's the matter?" asked the old lady, frightened by the look on
the girl's face.

"Take me to my room!" she pleaded, grasping her aunt's arm in order
to rise.

"Are you sick, daughter? You look as if you'd lost your bones! What's
the matter?"

"A fainting spell--the people in the room--so many lights--I need to
rest. Tell father that I'm going to sleep."

"You're cold. Do you want some tea?"

Maria Clara shook her head, entered and locked the door of her
chamber, and then, her strength failing her, she fell sobbing to the
floor at the feet of an image.

"Mother, mother, mother mine!" she sobbed.

Through the window and a door that opened on the azotea the moonlight
entered. The musicians continued to play merry waltzes, laughter
and the hum of voices penetrated into the chamber, several times her
father, Aunt Isabel, Dona Victorina, and even Linares knocked at the
door, but Maria did not move. Heavy sobs shook her breast.

Hours passed--the pleasures of the dinner-table ended, the sound of
singing and dancing was heard, the candle burned itself out, but the
maiden still remained motionless on the moonlit floor at the feet of
an image of the Mother of Jesus.

Gradually the house became quiet again, the lights were extinguished,
and Aunt Isabel once more knocked at the door.

"Well, she's gone to sleep," said the old woman, aloud. "As she's
young and has no cares, she sleeps like a corpse."

When all was silence she raised herself slowly and threw a look about
her. She saw the azotea with its little arbors bathed in the ghostly
light of the moon.

"An untroubled future! She sleeps like a corpse!" she repeated in a
low voice as she made her way out to the azotea.

The city slept. Only from time to time there was heard the noise of a
carriage crossing the wooden bridge over the river, whose undisturbed
waters reflected smoothly the light of the moon. The young woman
raised her eyes toward a sky as clear as sapphire. Slowly she took
the rings from her fingers and from her ears and removed the combs
from her hair. Placing them on the