fleeting. 'You are angry,' he cried in agony. 'I have presumed.'

'No, Senor, it is not that,' returned the lady. 'I--' and a flood
of colour once more mounted to her brow--'I am confused and ashamed
because I have deceived you. Spanish,' she began, and paused--
'Spanish is, of course, my native tongue,' she resumed, as though
suddenly taking courage; 'and this should certainly put the highest
value on your thoughtful present; but alas, sir, of what use is it
to me? And how shall I confess to you the truth--the humiliating
truth--that I cannot read?'

As Harry's eyes met hers in undisguised amazement, the fair Cuban
seemed to shrink before his gaze. 'Read?' repeated Harry. 'You!'

She pushed the window still more widely open with a large and noble
gesture. 'Enter, Senor,' said she. 'The time has come to which I
have long looked forward, not without alarm; when I must either
fear to lose your friendship, or tell you without disguise the
story of my life.'

It was with a sentiment bordering on devotion, that Harry passed
the window. A semi-barbarous delight in form and colour had
presided over the studied disorder of the room in which he found
himself. It was filled with dainty stuffs, furs and rugs and
scarves of brilliant hues, and set with elegant and curious
trifles-fans on the mantelshelf, an antique lamp upon a bracket,
and on the table a silver-mounted bowl of cocoa-nut about half full
of unset jewels. The fair Cuban, herself a gem of colour and the
fit masterpiece for that rich frame, motioned Harry to a seat, and
sinking herself into another, thus began her history.