iped her
with a passion that consumed and mastered him. Waking and dreaming she
was ever in his thoughts--he could not live without her. But not until
he was mad, ravished with desire, did she consent to become his wife. A
smile, or a gentle pressure of the hand were the only caresses she
deigned to bestow upon him; not until they were married would he be
permitted to embrace and kiss her, give rein to his passion. A strange
attitude for one of her nature to assume, and, as he looked back upon
it, he wondered how he had endured it--that he had not suspected
something.

At length the day set for the wedding arrived, and Chiquita with Senora
Fernandez drove in state to the old Mission church where Padre Antonio
awaited them to perform the marriage ceremony.

Don Felipe, in a state of exultation that lifted his soul to the clouds,
stood waiting for her on the steps of the church as had been agreed
between them; but as the two advanced, Chiquita suddenly paused before
the door, and turning, tore the bridal-veil and wreath of orange
blossoms from her brow and flung them into his face, crying: "Pepita
Delaguerra is avenged!" Then turning, she deliberately descended the
church steps and reentering her carriage, drove home, leaving Don Felipe
dazed and speechless before the crowd of spectators that had gathered to
witness the passing of the bride and groom.

Later she confessed the reason for her motives to Padre Antonio, but one
circumstance she withheld even from him, the nature of which Don Felipe
did not suspect, but which he would have given worlds to know.

Chiquita's conduct became the scandal of the country for miles around,
and as is invariably the case, the majority of the women sided with
Felipe. In more refined circles of society, her act would have been
considered highly reprehensible and Felipe overwhelmed with sympathy.
His base ingratitude would have been lightly censured in the familiar,
sugared terms of the most approved fashion. He would have been forgiven,
and petted, and even lauded as a martyr--and then, the world would have
forgotten. With the Indian woman, however, it was different.

On the altars of her people was still written, "blood for blood," the
same as in the ancient days.

Crushed, humiliated, his pride humbled to the dust, Don Felipe left the
country and for four years sought to forget his shame and the taunts of
his enemies in the distractions of the world. He traveled everywhere,
was p