ilk,
appearing in a heavily shadowed doorway, or seated in a recessed window,
gave a new and patrician dignity to the melancholy of the hacienda. It
was pleasant to follow this quietly ceremonious shadow gliding along
the rose garden at twilight, halting at times to bend stiffly over the
bushes, garden-shears in hand, and carrying a little basket filled with
withered but still odorous petals, as if she were grimly gathering the
faded roses of her youth.

It was also probable that the lively Cecily's appreciation of her aunt
might have been based upon another virtue of that lady--namely, her
exquisite tact in dealing with the delicate situation evolved from the
always possible relations of the two cousins. It was not to be supposed
that the servants would fail to invest the young people with Southern
romance, and even believe that the situation was prearranged by the
aunt with a view to their eventual engagement. To deal with the problem
openly, yet without startling the consciousness of either Dick or
Cecily; to allow them the privileges of children subject to the
occasional restraints of childhood; to find certain household duties
for the young girl that kept them naturally apart until certain hours
of general relaxation; to calmly ignore the meaning of her retainers'
smiles and glances, and yet to good-humoredly accept their interest as a
kind of feudal loyalty, was part of Aunt Viney's deep diplomacy. Cecily
enjoyed her freedom and companionship with Dick, as she enjoyed the
novel experiences of the old house, the quaint, faded civilization that
it represented, and the change and diversion always acceptable to youth.
She did not feel the absence of other girls of her own age; neither was
she aware that through this omission she was spared the necessity of
a confidante or a rival--both equally revealing to her thoughtless
enjoyment. They took their rides together openly and without
concealment, relating their adventures afterwards to Aunt Viney with
a naivete and frankness that dreamed of no suppression. The city-bred
Cecily, accustomed to horse exercise solely as an ornamental and
artificial recreation, felt for the first time the fearful joy of a dash
across a league-long plain, with no onlookers but the scattered wild
horses she might startle up to scurry before her, or race at her side.
Small wonder that, mounted on her fiery little mustang, untrammeled by
her short gray riding-habit, free as the wind itself that