icate filmy threads
of gold intersected the heavy white Valenciennes lace mantilla attached
to her high silver comb, etched in gold and studded with diminutive
diamonds, which sparkled in the light like dew in the sunshine. Her
white satin slippers and silk stockings, like her corsage and _saya_,
were also delicately worked in gold. A sheaf of golden poppies adorned
one side of her head, nestling close down upon her neck and shoulder in
the folds of her jet black hair. She presented a truly striking
appearance, and Padre Antonio gazed long and silently at her, his keen
eyes scanning her critically from head to foot in an effort to detect a
fault.

How he loved his little girl! It almost seemed as though she were
endowed with something more than earthly beauty. In her the strength and
grace of the deer and panther were blended with the ethereal delicacy
and beauty of the flower. But it was her face that bespoke the luminous
nature of the soul which dwelt within her. So close was the bond of
sympathy and mutual understanding between them, that she instinctively
half divined his thoughts and it gave her courage.

"Will I do, Padre _mio_?" she asked with a slight hesitancy, smiling and
looking down at him inquiringly. The question was so characteristic of
her that he could only smile in response.

"Chiquita _mia_--there's one thing lacking," he said at length, the
far-away, dreamy look fading from his eyes.

"Something lacking?" she repeated in surprise, turning and casting an
involuntary glance at the small mirror on the wall opposite in a vain
effort to catch a full view of herself.

"Yes, Senorita," he answered knowingly, almost mysteriously. "But it's
not your fault. It sometimes takes the discerning eye of a man to
perceive what a woman's toilet lacks."

What can it be, she asked herself, looking wonderingly and inquiringly
up into his face, and then turning to follow him with her gaze as,
without further comment, he left the room and slowly ascended the stairs
to his study on the floor above. He paused for an instant on entering
the room, then walked straight to his desk at the other end; a large
upright piece of furniture of ancient pine made in the mission style and
stained dark to represent oak, which, owing to its age, it closely
resembled. Pulling out the middle drawer, he pushed back a secret panel
on the inside, disclosing an opening in the back of the desk from which
he drew a small sandalwood box which