unk of a fallen palm-tree,
her fine form clad in the picturesque Indian garb, with her lovely face
mirrored in the tranquil water, a picture is presented on which no eye
could look, nor thought dwell, without a feeling of delight; and,
regarding her thus, no one would believe her to be other than what she
is--the belle of the Tovas tribe.

Her beauty had not failed to make impression upon the heart of Aguara,
long before his having become _cacique_. He has loved her too, in days
gone by, ere he looked upon the golden-haired paleface. Both children
then, and little more yet; for the Indian girl is only a year or two
older than the other. But in this southern clime, the precocity already
spoken of is not confined to those whose skins are called white, but
equally shared by the red.

Nacena has been beloved by the son of Naraguana, and knew, or at least
believed it. But she better knows, that she has been deceived by him,
and is now slighted, about to be cast aside for another. That other
will, ere long, be chieftainess of the Tovas tribe, while she--

She has reflected thus far, when the bitter thought overpowering causes
her to start to her feet, a cry escaping her lips as if it came from a
heart cleft in twain.

Nothing of this, however, shows in her face. The expression upon it is
rather that of anger, as a _jaguarete_ of her native plains, whose rage
has been aroused by the arrow of the Indian hunter suddenly piercing its
side. Hitherto silent, she is now heard to speak; but, though alone,
the words to which she gives utterance are not in soliloquy: instead, as
if spoken to some one who is near, though unseen. It is an apostrophe
meant for no mortal ears, but addressed to the Divinity of the lake!

"Spirit of the Waters!" she cries, with arms outstretched and head
aloft, "hear my prayer! Tell me if it be true! Will he make her his
wife?"

She is silent for a second or two, as though expecting a reply, and
listening for it. It comes, but not from the deity addressed. Out of
her own heart she has the answer.

"He will; yes, surely will! Else, why has he brought her hither? A
false tale he has told in the council of the elders; false as himself!
Where are his words, his vows, made to me with lips that gave kisses?
Perjured--broken--gone as his love, given to another! And I am soon to
see her his queen, salute her as mine, and attend upon her as one of her
waiting maids! Never! No, Spirit of the W