ave spoken of, his face was adorned here and
there with pimples, which were not set down in the miniature. In the
course of the first hour's study, I saw him to be a man of much the same
stamp as Dolores's father--sensual, tyrannical, passionate. He seemed in
his own way to be much struck with the beauty of his intended wife, and
was not wanting in efforts to please her. All that I could see in her
was the settled, passive paleness of despair. She played, sang,
exhibited her embroidery and painting, at the command of Madame Mendoza,
with the air of an automaton; and Don Guzman remarked to her father on
the passive obedience as a proper and hopeful trait. Once only when he,
in presenting her a flower, took the liberty of kissing her cheek, did I
observe the flashing of her eye and a movement of disgust and
impatience, that she seemed scarcely able to restrain.

The marriage was announced to take place the next week, and a holiday
was declared through the house. Nothing was talked of or discussed but
the _corbeille de mariage_ which the bridegroom had brought--the
dresses, laces, sets of jewels, and cashmere shawls. Dolores never had
been treated with such attention by the family in her life. She rose
immeasurably in the eyes of all as the future possessor of such wealth
and such an establishment as awaited her. Madame Mendoza had visions of
future visits in Cuba rising before her mind, and overwhelmed her
daughter-in-law with flatteries and caresses, which she received in the
same passive silence as she did everything else.

For my own part, I tried to keep entirely by myself. I remained in my
room reading, and took my daily rides, accompanied by my servant--seeing
Dolores only at mealtimes, when I scarcely ventured to look at her. One
night, however, as I was walking through a lonely part of the garden,
Dolores suddenly stepped out from the shrubbery and stood before me. It
was bright moonlight, by which her face and person were distinctly
shown. How well I remember her as she looked then! She was dressed in
white muslin, as she was fond of being, but it had been torn and
disordered by the haste with which she had come through the shrubbery.
Her face was fearfully pale, and her great, dark eyes had an unnatural
brightness. She laid hold on my arm.

"Look here," she said, "I saw you and came down to speak with you."

She panted and trembled, so that for some moments she could not speak
another word. "I want to ask you