As the echo of his steps died along the corridor, Pauline's eye fell on
the paper lying where her lover flung it. At this sight all the softness
vanished, the stern woman reappeared, and, crushing it in her hand with
slow significance, she said low to herself, "This is an old, old story,
but it shall have a new ending."



Chapter II

"What jewels will the senora wear tonight?"

"None, Dolores. Manuel has gone for flowers--he likes them best. You may
go."

"But the senora's toilette is not finished; the sandals, the gloves, the
garland yet remain."

"Leave them all; I shall not go down. I am tired of this endless folly.
Give me that book and go."

The pretty Creole obeyed; and careless of Dolores' work, Pauline sank
into the deep chair with a listless mien, turned the pages for a little,
then lost herself in thoughts that seemed to bring no rest.

Silently the young husband entered and, pausing, regarded his wife with
mingled pain and pleasure--pain to see her so spiritless, pleasure to
see her so fair. She seemed unconscious of his presence till the
fragrance of his floral burden betrayed him, and looking up to smile a