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the mission and at the pueblo ,” Don Diego said. “She is, indeed, beautiful, and I have heard that she is accomplished. Of her birth and breeding there can be no doubt. I think she would be a fit woman to preside over my household.”
    â€œSeñor?”
    â€œThat is the object of my visit to-day, señor.”
    â€œYou—you are asking my permission to pay addresses to my fair daughter?”
    â€œI am, señor.”
    Don Carlos’s face beamed, and again he sprang from his chair, this time to bend forward and grasp Don Diego by the hand.
    â€œShe is a fair flower,” the father said. “I would see her wed, and I have been to some anxiety about it, for I did not wish her to marry into a family that did not rank with mine. But there can be no question where a Vega is concerned. You have my permission, señor .”
    Don Carlos was delighted. An alliance between his daughter and Don Diego Vega! His fortunes were retrieved the moment that was consummated. He would be important and powerful again!
    He called a native and sent for his wife, and within a few minutes the Doña Catalina appeared on the veranda to greet the visitor, her face beaming, for she had been listening.
    â€œDon Diego has done us the honor to request permission to pay his respects to our daughter,” Don Carlos explained.
    â€œYou have given consent?” Doña Catalina asked, for it would not do, of course, to jump for the man.
    â€œI have given my consent,” Don Carlos replied.
    Doña Catalina held out her hand, and Don Diego gave it a languid grasp and then released it.
    â€œSuch an alliance would be a proud one,” Doña Catalina said. “I hope that you may win her heart, señor.”
    â€œAs to that,” said Don Diego, “I trust there will be no undue nonsense. Either the lady wants me and will have me, or she will not. Will I change her mind if I play a guitar beneath her window, or hold her hand when I may, or put my hand over my heart and sigh? I want her for wife, else I would not have ridden here to ask her father for her.”
    â€œI—I—of course!” said Don Carlos.
    â€œAh, señor , but a maid delights to be won,” said the Doña Catalina. “It is her privilege, señor . The hours of courtship are held in memory during her lifetime. She remembers the pretty things her lover said, and the first kiss, when they stood beside the stream and looked into each other’s eyes, and when he showed sudden fear for her while they were riding and her horse bolted—those things, señor .
    â€œIt is like a little game, and it has been played since the beginning of time. Foolish, señor? Perhaps when a person looks at it with cold reason. But delightful, nevertheless.”
    â€œI don’t know anything about it,” Don Diego protested. “I never ran around making love to women.”
    â€œThe woman you marry will not be sorry because of that, señor .”
    â€œYou think it is necessary for me to do these things?”
    â€œOh,” said Don Carlos, afraid of losing an influential son-in-law, “a little bit would not hurt. A maid likes to be wooed, of course, even though she has made up her mind.”
    â€œI have a servant who is a wonder at the guitar,” Don Diego said. “To-night I shall order him to come out and play beneath the señorita’s window.”
    â€œAnd not come yourself?” Doña Catalina gasped.
    â€œRide out here again to-night, when the chill wind blows in from the sea?” gasped Don Diego. “It would kill me. And the native plays the guitar better than I.”
    â€œI never heard of such a thing!” Doña Catalina gasped, her sense of the fitness of things outraged.
    â€œLet Don Diego do as he wills,” Don Carlos urged.
    â€œI had thought,” said Don Diego, “that you would arrange everything and then let me know. I would have my house