ed, not white like
yourselves?"

"Are you an Indian, Senorita?" asked Blanch. "I thought you were a
Mexican."

"And if I were, I would not be ashamed of it!"

"What a strange creature!" thought Bessie.

"But why did the Senoritas laugh when they saw me?" persisted Chiquita,
her expression softening a bit, a faint smile illumining her face.

"Believe me, Senorita," replied Blanch, "we were not laughing at you at
all. We were laughing at Captain Forest."

"Ah, the Senor!" ejaculated Chiquita.

"Yes," continued Blanch, "we had already heard of you through Captain
Forest, and--I--" she hesitated, "I really can't explain because you
wouldn't understand, you know."

"But I do understand, Senorita," answered Chiquita quietly. "You do not
deceive me, and since you refuse to tell me why you laughed, I shall be
obliged to tell you. I think I can guess the truth."

"Really, I'm curious!" and Blanch smiled compassionately.

"Ah, you think I can't read your face," and Chiquita smiled in turn.
"Senorita," she continued with sudden emphasis, "you love the Senor!"
Blanch started, the attack was so sudden, her face coloring in spite of
her endeavor to conceal her confusion.

"Yes, Senorita, you love him."

"How do you know I love him?" laughed Blanch lightly in turn, by this
time thoroughly mistress of herself. "Why, you have only met me for the
first time!"

"How do I know? Because I am a woman. I saw you as you spoke to him.
Your whole manner betrayed you--your voice, your eyes. Yes, Senorita,"
she added with growing passion, fixing her dark piercing eyes on those
of Blanch, "you laughed because a poor girl like me of a different race
and color, a race despised by you white people, should have imagined
that Captain Forest might possibly cast his eyes upon her--"

"Senorita!" cried Blanch protestingly.

"It is the truth," continued Chiquita passionately, "and what is more, I
will tell you frankly that I--I, too, love the Senor!"

"I thought so!" exclaimed Blanch.

"Yes, I love him--love him as you do--love him as you can never love
him, Senorita!"

"What makes you think so?" asked Blanch, endeavoring to stifle the
emotion Chiquita's passionate words aroused within her.

"I know it," she answered quietly; "something tells me so. And should he
not love me as I love him, my life will go out of me swiftly and
silently like the waters of the streams in summer when the rains cease;
my soul will become barren and parc