the house, leaving Concho to marvel at her
astuteness, a thing he had never suspected.

Meanwhile, the subject under discussion was pacing the floor of his room
in the _Posada_ like a caged lion. For one whole week Bessie Van Ashton
had seemingly thrown wide the portals of her heart and bade him enter, a
privilege of which he was not slow to avail himself. Never had woman
flirted to better advantage or succeeded more effectually in turning a
man's head in so short a time as had this distracting, fair-haired
witch. The only regret experienced by Mr. Yankton during these hours of
unalloyed happiness, was the thought of the days he had lost--days which
might have been spent in her society had he only known. How blind he had
been not to have recognized her the instant he had set eyes on her,
instead of compelling the Almighty to remind him that she was the woman
that had been reserved for him by dropping her down out of a clear sky
into his arms! How stupid of him, and how patient Providence was with
some of us at times!

During the few short days which followed that happy accident--days that
seemed like so many swift, fleeting seconds, Dick floated on a summer
sea whose surface was unmarred by shadow or ripple. All the world had
changed. He felt as though he had only just begun to live, and he spun a
golden web of fancies out of the reality of things which, for one so
deeply versed in the game of life, was a marvel of beauty, fair as a
poet's dream, yet more substantial. And why not? Had not his life been
one replete with adventure and romance from the cradle? His meeting with
Bessie was no more remarkable than many other things that had occurred
during his lifetime. It was now perfectly clear to him why he had built
the _hacienda_ in the face of adverse judgment. It was for her, of
course. A place in which to enshrine and worship her during the years to
come; for what else could it be?

That insane notion of a white-haired patriarch enjoying the solitude of
the place was too absurd--a morbid fancy born of loneliness and
melancholy. The walk back to the _Posada_ on the day of their startling
encounter and the hours spent in Bessie's society since then--strolling
and chatting in the garden, or going for long rides over the plains
together, had convinced him it was not intended that man should live
alone. He had taken good care that she should learn nothing of the
existence of the _hacienda_ or of his wealth, and as littl