"Holy Mother! but I am glad to see you again, Don Felipe Ramirez! What blessed chance has brought you back to us again?" Don Felipe started like one in a dream, and turning in the direction whence came the sound of the voice, he beheld SeÑora Fernandez standing on the veranda regarding him intently.

"DoÑa Fernandez!" he exclaimed with genuine pleasure, advancing to meet her, and extending his hand which she eagerly seized and held between both her own.

"Muchacho—muchacho!" she cried, clapping her hands as she released her hold on Don Felipe's. "Carlos, the Caballero's horse!" she continued, addressing the vaquero that appeared in the doorway of the Inn at her summons and who advancing, took possession of Don Felipe's horse and led him away to the stables.

"Let me look at you, Don Felipe," she continued, regarding him closely. "Why, you have not changed a hair! It might have been but yesterday that you left us."

"And you, DoÑa Fernandez are still the charming, handsome mistress of the Posada de las Estrellas to whom all men are irresistibly drawn."

"Flatterer!" retorted SeÑora, laughing gayly and blushing like a girl of sixteen. How sweet it was to hear such words from a handsome Caballero like Don Felipe! It reminded her of the old days when all men thought her beautiful and went out of their way to tell her so.

"It was unkind of you to remain away so long, Don Felipe. Your friends have missed you sadly and have prayed for the day of your return."

"Friends?" echoed Felipe with a sneer.

"Aye, friends. You will find that you have more friends now than when you left us."

"I can scarcely believe it. And yet," he added, "I wish it might be so."

"You shall learn shortly for yourself," returned SeÑora.

"How long," interrupted Felipe, eager to change the drift of the conversation, "have the American ladies been here?"

"Ah, you have seen them?"

"Yes, they were just going out for a walk when I arrived. It was a pleasant surprise to see them here. They are friends of mine."

"You know them?"

"Yes. I met them a year ago in Washington."

"Dios! to think of it!" she exclaimed.

"But what are they doing here?" he asked.

"Ah! that is just what I would like to know myself," replied SeÑora. "Caramba! but they are grand ladies! They say," she went on, "that they are traveling for pleasure, but what pleasure can such delicate, refined ladies possibly find in the desert, I should like to know? Judging from their talk and actions they can not have seen very much of the world. Dios! you should have witnessed the scene they created the day they arrived. And yet," she continued, "I like them and am glad they are here. They have brought new life into the place. God knows it is no longer what it used to be in the old days when Don Carlos, my husband, was alive," she added with a sigh.

Don Felipe smiled at the SeÑora's provincialism. What a great world lay outside that of her own, of which she was entirely ignorant.

A trip to the City of Mexico during her honeymoon was the only journey she had ever taken beyond the confines of Chihuahua.

"And then there is Mrs. Forest's brother, Col-on-el Van Ash-ton," she continued, pronouncing the latter's name slowly and with difficulty.

"Holy Maria! but he has caused us trouble! Nothing seems to suit him."

"Colonel Van Ashton?" repeated Felipe. "Ah, yes, I remember him."

"But that is not all," interrupted SeÑora. "There is also Captain Forest, Mrs. Forest's son. He came here before the others and seemed very much surprised and put out by their unexpected appearance."

"Captain Forest?" repeated Don Felipe slowly, as if trying to recall a chance meeting. "I have never met him. What is he like?"

"Ah, he's a grand SeÑor," answered SeÑora with enthusiasm. "A Caballero every inch, and rides a horse that's the devil himself. Why, only yesterday the brute kicked out the side of the corral, and after chasing the men off the place who had been teasing him, calmly walked into the garden and rolled in my choicest flower-bed."

"He must be a thoroughbred at any rate," laughed Felipe.

"Thoroughbred? He's the devil, I say! Captain Forest and his man, JosÉ, are the only ones that dare go near him." Don Felipe drew a gold cigarette-case thickly studded with diamonds and rubies from the inner pocket of his jacket, and lighted a cigarette.

"As I was saying," SeÑora went on, "Captain Forest is a fine gentleman. He's a great friend of SeÑor Yankton, and—" she stopped abruptly.

"And what?" asked Felipe suspiciously, closely scanning her face as he tossed away the burnt end of the match.

"Oh, nothing," answered SeÑora evasively. "Only much has transpired during your absence, Don Felipe." She hesitated as though uncertain how to proceed, then said: "I might speak of certain things, but perhaps I had better not. They would not interest you, anyway."

"Ah!" he said at length, endeavoring to conceal the emotion her words aroused. "I—I think I understand. You—you refer to her, I suppose?" There was a slight tremor in his voice and his hand trembled as he raised his cigarette to his lips for a fresh puff.

"Yes," she answered quietly. "I—I was about to say that she appears to be interested in this Captain Forest. But of course, that's nothing to you," she added hastily, watching him narrowly the while. Her words acted like fire to tinder.

"Interested in him?" he cried, starting violently and letting his cigarette fall to the ground. His face grew ashen pale and his right hand involuntarily went to the knife in his sash. "No, no, it cannot be!" he muttered excitedly. "Are you sure of what you say, DoÑa Fernandez? Tell me that it is not true—that it is a lie!" he almost hissed, his eyes glowing with the fires of passion and jealousy.

"Why, what has come over you, Don Felipe Ramirez?" cried SeÑora in alarm. "Surely you cannot—she can be nothing to you any more?"

"Nothing to me? Why do you suppose I am here?" he answered.

"Madre de Dios!" muttered SeÑora.

"DoÑa Fernandez," he began after a pause, his voice trembling in spite of himself, "God knows I have tried to forget her, but I—I cannot!" and his voice broke.

"What?" cried SeÑora excitedly. "You don't really mean to say that you still—love her?"

"I do," answered Felipe fiercely, driving his heel furiously into the ground. For some moments neither spoke. Then a flush of anger mounted to SeÑora's brow and she cried:

"Fie! Don Felipe! Have you forgotten your self-respect? The handsomest, richest man in all Chihuahua running after an Indian—the woman who treated you so shamefully—an ingrate who is unworthy of a love like yours? If I could have had my way, she would have been whipped publicly! What would Don Juan, your father, peace be to his soul, say if he were alive? Love her!" she cried in a frenzy of hatred and jealousy. "How can you possibly love her, Don Felipe Ramirez?"

"How can I love her?" retorted Felipe fiercely. "Why does the grass grow? Why do the birds sing? Why do the streams run to the ocean? Why do the flowers turn to the sun? Tell me that, DoÑa Fernandez," he cried in agony and bitterness, "and I will tell you why I love her in spite of myself, in spite of what she did, in spite of every effort I have made to resist her fascination! God!" and he struck his breast with his clenched hand, "I wonder I did not kill her then and there, but I could not, I could not; I loved her so!"

"Dios, but this is strange!" gasped SeÑora, raising both hands for an instant and then crossing herself devoutly as if to avert the power of some evil—the spell which seemed to cling to Don Felipe and bind him as with hoops of steel. She did not realize that Chiquita belonged to that rare type of beings who seem immortal; that it was impossible to imagine her other than young, that the years could work no change within her, and although Felipe had not yet seen her, his soul must flame up at the sight of her as of yore.

Felipe was silent, his eyes cast on the ground. His face wore a malignant expression of pain and hatred, and he trembled in every limb.

The revelation of his anguish startled her. She stepped close up to him and laying her hand gently on his shoulder, said in a voice full of compassion, almost of pity: "I understand, Don Felipe! You still see her as she was when you last knew her—it is but natural. Of course you could not know, but she has changed since then. In the opinion of every one, she has fallen, degraded herself."

"Degraded herself? What do you mean?" asked Felipe, turning his searching gaze upon her.

"Only a fortnight ago," answered SeÑora, "on the great day of the Fiesta, she danced publicly in Carlos Moreno's theater."

"Chiquita danced in Carlos Moreno's hall? Impossible!"

"Don Felipe," replied SeÑora with just the suggestion of a smile, "all things are possible with a woman."

"But why did she dance?" he asked.

"I don't know; neither does any one else. They say she received three thousand pesos in gold."

"Three thousand pesos?" echoed Felipe. "What did she do with them?"

"Ah! that's the mystery! What did she do with them?" answered SeÑora.

"It was not so much her dancing that scandalized the community, for we all know what a wonderful dancer she is. Nobody ever danced as she does, and we are willing to give her credit for it, but what did she do with the money? That's the scandal of it! I have noticed no change in her dress," she continued, "nor is it known that she has spent a single peso as yet."

"Strange," he murmured. "I cannot understand it."

"No more can I nor any one else," answered SeÑora. "But I have been forgetting my duty; I must prepare a room for you, Don Felipe. In the meantime," she added, ascending the veranda and pausing for an instant, "be assured of the hearty welcome of your friends when they learn of your return."

"Chiquita danced in public? I can't understand it!" he said aloud after SeÑora Fernandez had disappeared in the house. "And she interested in this Captain Forest?" His face grew livid and then black with hatred as a fresh wave of rage and jealousy swept over him.

"No, no; it cannot be!" he gasped, his left hand resting over his heart as though in pain. For some time he remained motionless as a statue, lost in thought with his eyes fixed on the ground. Suddenly he raised his head with a quick jerk. His face no longer wore an expression of pain and anguish, but one of settled, calm determination.

"I have come just in time," he said quietly. He smiled, and drawing forth his cigarette-case once more, he opened it and lit a fresh cigarette.