leaned forward, her soul hearkened after the vibrations, and again
they called her. With swift steps she reached the open door. Rachela sat
in her chair within it.

"The Senorita had better remain within," she said, sullenly; "the sun
grows hot."

"Let me pass, Rachela, I am in a hurry."

"To be sure, the Senorita will have her way--good or bad."

Antonia heeded her not; she was hastening down the main avenue toward
the gateway. This avenue was hedged on each side with oleanders, and
they met in a light, waving arch above her head. At this season they
were one mass of pale pink blossoms and dark glossy leaves. The vivid
sunshine through them made a rosy light which tinged her face and her
white gown with an indescribable glow. If a mortal woman can ever look
like an angel, the fair, swiftly moving Antonia had at that moment the
angelic expression of joy and love; the angelic unconsciousness of rapid
and graceful movement; the angelic atmosphere that was in itself a dream
of paradise; rose-tinted, divinely sweet and warm.

Dare saw her coming, and suddenly ceased speaking{.??} He was in the
midst of a sentence, but he forgot what he was saying. He forgot where
he was. He knew nothing, felt nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing but
Antonia. And yet he did not fall at her feet, and kiss her hands and
whisper delightful extravagances; all of which things an Iberian lover
would have done, and felt and looked in the doing perfectly graceful and
natural.

Dare Grant only clasped both the pretty hands held out to him; only
said "Antonia! Antonia!" only looked at her with eyes full of a loving
question, which found its instant answer in her own. In that moment they
revealed to each other the length and breadth, the height and the depth
of their affection. They had not thought of disguising it; they made no
attempt to do so; and Robert Worth needed not the confession which, a
few hours later, Grant thought it right to make to him.

When they entered the house together, a happy, noisy group, Rachela had
left her chair and was going hurriedly upstairs to tell the Senora her
surmise; but Jack passed her with a bound, and was at his mother's side
before the heavy old woman had comprehended his passing salutation.

"Madre! Mother, I am here!"

The Senora was on her couch in her darkened room. She had been at the
very earliest mass, had a headache, and had come home in a state of
rebellion against heaven and earth. But Jack wa