near at hand. You are a child of seventeen; you were
never ill a day in your life, except when the baby was born. You enjoy
perfect health.... It is much more likely that I should die before you:
I am considerably older; besides, I haven't a very strong constitution,
as you know...."

"Hush! hush!" exclaimed Maximina, throwing her arms around him, and
bursting into a passion of tears. "I don't want to hear that you may
die!"

"Why, my child, there is nothing to be done about it."

"But I don't want to hear about it; I don't want to, I do not!" she
replied, with such lovely determination that her husband covered her
with kisses.

After a while, and when they had been speaking of other things, Maximina
returned to the same topic.

"If I should die, you would marry again, wouldn't you, Miguel?" she
asked, with an expression half serious and half mischievous, which
nevertheless concealed a very real meaning and a genuine anxiety.

"Back to the old subject? Please don't indulge in any more of these
follies, sweetheart."

"Would you marry again, Miguel?" she insisted, ceasing to smile, and
showing her anxiety.

"Well, then, I am going to speak with all frankness: If you should die
(but you aren't going to die), I will not answer for it, that in the
course of my life I should never have anything to do with other women;
but I give you my word and oath that I will never marry any one else.
And this is not alone because of the deep and affectionate love which I
bear you, so that to-day you are an essential part of my being, and if
you were taken away from me it would be as though half of myself were
taken away, but also for selfish reasons. I should be unhappy with any
other woman. God has endowed you, my darling, with all, absolutely with
all, the qualities necessary for making me happy."

The little wife well understood that these words were sincere, and she
looked at her husband with enthusiasm and joy.

Miguel, in speaking the last words, had felt his heart growing tender:
he covered his eyes with his hands, and turned away his head. On seeing
him in this attitude a smile of intense delight illumined his wife's
face.

"Are you crying?" she whispered into his ear.

Miguel did not reply.

"Are you crying?" she repeated. "You _are_ crying; don't try to deny
it." And with infantile curiosity she tried to pull his hands away from
his face.

"Stop, stop!"

"Let me see thy tears, Miguel!"

And she struggled w