ghosts, Helen! I know you're not."

"I was when a child. Now I fear neither the living nor the dead. I can
dare both, having nought to make me care for life--"

"Come on!" cries Jessie, interrupting the melancholy train of
reflection, "Let us to the garden. If we meet a monk in hood and cowl,
I shall certainly--"

"Do what?"

"Run back into the house fast as feet can carry me. Come along!"

Keeping up the jocular bravado, the younger sister leads the way out.
Arm-in-arm the two cross the _patio_, then the outer courtyard, and on
through a narrow passage communicating with the walled enclosure at
back; once a grand garden under careful cultivation, still grand in its
neglect.

After entering it, the sisters make stop, and for a while stand
surveying the scene. The moon at full, coursing through a cloudless
sky, flings her soft light upon gorgeous flowers with corollas but
half-closed, in the sultry southern night giving out their fragrance as
by day. The senses of sight and smell are not the only ones gratified;
that of hearing is also charmed with the song of the _czentzontle_, the
Mexican nightingale. One of these birds perched upon a branch, and
pouring forth its love-lay in loud passionate strain, breaks off at
sight of them. Only for a short interval is it silent; then resuming
its lay, as if convinced it has nought to fear from such fair intruders.
Its song is not strange to their ears, though there are some notes they
have not hitherto heard. It is their own mocking-bird of the States,
introducing into its mimic minstrelsy certain variations, the imitations
of sounds peculiar to Texas.

After having listened to it for a short while, the girls move on down
the centre walk, now under the shadow of trees, anon emerging into the
moonlight; which shimmering on their white evening robes, and reflecting
the sparkle of their jewellery, produces a pretty effect.

The garden ground slopes gently backward; and about half-way between the
house and the bottom wall is, or has been, a fountain. The basin is
still there, and with water in it, trickling over its edge. But the jet
no longer plays, and the mason-work shows greatly dilapidated. So also
the seats and statues around, some of the latter yet standing, others
broken off, and lying alongside their pedestals.

Arriving at this spot, the sisters again stop, and for a time stand
contemplating the ruins; the younger making a remark, suggested by a
thou