errible sights. She was not a woman of many words.
She was a Mexican, but there were those who said that some Indian blood
ran in her veins. This was not improbable; and it seemed more than ever
probable now, as she stood still by Alessandro's side, her hand on his
shoulder, her eyes fixed in distress on his face. How he had altered!
How well she recollected his lithe figure, his alert motion, his superb
bearing, his handsome face, when she last saw him in the spring!

"You were away all summer, Alessandro?" she said at last, turning back
to her work.

"Yes," he said: "at the Senora Moreno's."

"So I heard," she said. "That is a fine great place, is it not? Is her
son grown a fine man? He was a lad when I saw him. He went through here
with a drove of sheep once."

"Ay, he is a man now," said Alessandro, and buried his face in his hands
again.

"Poor fellow! I don't wonder he does not want to speak," thought Mrs.
Hartsel. "I'll just let him alone;" and she spoke no more for some
moments.

Alessandro sat still by the fire. A strange apathy seemed to have seized
him; at last he said wearily: "I must be going now. I wanted to see Mr.
Hartsel a minute, but he seems to be busy in the store."

"Yes," she said, "a lot of San Francisco men; they belong to the company
that's coming in here in the valley; they've been here two days. Oh,
Alessandro," she continued, bethinking herself, "Jim's got your violin
here; Jose brought it."

"Yes, I know it," answered Alessandro. "Jose told me; and that was one
thing I stopped for."

"I'll run and get it," she exclaimed.

"No," said Alessandro, in a slow, husky voice. "I do not want it. I
thought Mr. Hartsel might buy it. I want some money. It was not mine; it
was my father's. It is a great deal better than mine. My father said it
would bring a great deal of money. It is very old."

"Indeed it is," she replied; "one of those men in there was looking at
it last night. He was astonished at it, and he would not believe Jim
when he told him about its having come from the Mission."

"Does he play? Will he buy it?" cried Alessandro.

"I don't know; I'll call Jim," she said; and running out she looked in
at the other door, saying, "Jim! Jim!"

Alas, Jim was in no condition to reply. At her first glance in his face,
her countenance hardened into an expression of disgust and defiance.
Returning to the kitchen, she said scornfully, disdaining all disguises,
"Jim's drunk. No use your