r me a little, but you don't."

"Dolores," I said, "I do care for you more than I do for any one in the
world; I love you more than my own soul."

These were the very words I never meant to say, but somehow they seemed
to utter themselves against my will. She looked at me for a moment as if
she could not believe her hearing, and then the blood flushed her face,
and she laid her head down on her arms.

At this moment Madame Mendoza and the other girls came into the room in
a clamor of admiration about a diamond bracelet which had just arrived
as a present from her future husband. It was a splendid thing, and had
for its clasp his miniature, surrounded by the largest brilliants.

The enthusiasm of the party even at this moment could not say anything
in favor of the beauty of this miniature, which, though painted on
ivory, gave the impression of a coarse-featured man, with a scar across
one eye.

"No matter for the beauty," said one of the girls, "so long as it is set
with such diamonds."

"Come, Dolores," said another, giving her the present, "pull off that
old hair bracelet, and try this on."

Dolores threw the diamond bracelet from her with a vehemence so unlike
her gentle self as to startle every one.

"I shall not take off my mother's bracelet for a gift from a man I never
knew," she said. "I hate diamonds. I wish those who like such things
might have them."

"Was ever anything so odd?" said Madame Mendoza.

"Dolores always was odd," said another of the girls; "nobody ever could
tell what she would like."

CHAPTER XXVII

HIDDEN THINGS

The next day Senor Don Guzman de Cardona arrived, and the whole house
was in a commotion of excitement. There was to be no school, and
everything was bustle and confusion. I passed my time in my own room in
reflecting severely upon myself for the imprudent words by which I had
thrown one more difficulty in the way of this poor harassed child.

Dolores this day seemed perfectly passive in the hands of her mother and
sisters, who appeared disposed to show her great attention. She allowed
them to array her in her most becoming dress, and made no objection to
anything except removing the bracelet from her arm. "Nobody's gifts
should take the place of her mother's," she said, and they were obliged
to be content with her wearing of the diamond bracelet on the other arm.

Don Guzman was a large, plethoric man, with coarse features and heavy
gait. Besides the scar I h