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"No. But, Auntie Carlota, ask them—find out who it was, why it was that Roberto——"

"There! there is Don Abrahan calling me, roaring again like a bear. These men! what a trouble!"

Doña Carlota left hurriedly, the sound of Don Abrahan's voice swelling; as she opened Helena's chamber door.

"Doña Carlota, Doña Carlota!" the summons sounded. And fainter, as the door closed, as if he had turned his back: "Doña Carlota!" with impatient clapping of the hands.

Doña Carlota made no haste to appear before her kinsman and learn his pleasure. She stood a moment at Helena's door, a look of supreme satisfaction in her face, crossed the hall to the door opening into the patio and stood a little while looking at the tender morning sun in the leaves of the pepper tree.

"I was right, I was justified; my conscience is clear," she said. "Yes, Don Abrahan. I am here, I am here. I am coming as fast as my feet can carry me."

Helena hastened her toilet, oppressed by a dread that made her morning dark. Sleep had been long coming to her last night; she had lain planning and devising, her mind flooded by this breaking down of traditional submission. When sleep came, it had locked her fast, she had heard nothing of the coming and going when the body of the slain man was brought and laid beneath the olive trees. Had