satisfied her pride, which was the worthy companion of her selfishness, and formed the principal trait in the character of the eldest daughter of Claudio Fajardo. Whether from indifference, neglect, or pride, Bibiana rarely troubled or interested herself in or for anybody. Indifferent persons, or those who keep all their interest for particular friends, generally acquire the fame of being prudent, reserved, and sensible, this opinion being formed from the effects and not from the cause that produces them. So it happened that Bibiana was considered, both at home and abroad, a woman of maturity beyond her years, of excellent character, good feelings, and unblemished conduct. She received this admiration of her good qualities as if she deserved it, and it is easy to imagine that she herself thought she did. Who ever sees their own faults? No one. Self-love makes most people see black white.

Bibiana was not pretty; her complexion was sallow, her marked features were rather hard and masculine, not very pleasant to look at; in her black eyes there was an expression not exactly proud, but cold and harsh, which was repulsive-in fact, you could see that she was a discontented woman-never did a ray of satisfaction, or a feeling of sympathy illumine her impassive face. She was aware of her want of beauty, and did not trouble herself about it, but was contented with wearing her hair plain, and despised all ornament for the head. In exchange, she took great care of her figure, and being tall and well formed, she assumed the airs and carriage of a princess in her own right.

The second child of Don Claudio, who was named after his father, was an uncultivated dolt, who passed his life either on horseback or swinging in a hammock, smoking, and drinking coffee, either at his sugar-mills or in his coffee plantations.

The third, named Feliciana, was rather a pretty girl, without vice or virtue, rather spoilt, and with no more ideas than those transmitted from one to the other by empty-headed girls without occupation or education, on fashions, flowers, lovers, and gossip. What would be the fate of such superficial beings, if girls like this-of which there are, unfortunately, a great many-had not two great passions in life-wifely and motherly love. Thus we see girls, who are insufferable to all but youths, fall in love, and make exemplary mothers of families, praying with their whole hearts, and teaching their children the holy word of God, which they had before repeated like parrots. Abolish family ties, you who dare to name yourselves regenerators, and with them will disappear the religious, moral, and social virtues of which they are the foundation, and which oppose themselves so nobly to your unbounded liberty.

A few days after the events we have recorded in the foregoing chapter, the following conversation took place between the two sisters, which will introduce them to the reader.

"So," said the elder sister to the younger, "you have actually authorised Villareza to ask for your hand?'

Villareza was a captain in the regiment which the brigadier commanded, a fellow-countryman, and the lover of the girl addressed.

"Without making him entreat more than was necessary to give weight to my consent," answered Feliciana, "so that, though I have not got yours, my marriage may be considered as settled." "Oh no!" objected Bibiana.

"And why no?"

"Because perhaps it will be more difficult to obtain the consent of the father than of the daughter."

"Well, and what has my father to object to in Villareza? He is a Spaniard, he is so good, and his chief praises him so much! On what could he found his refusal?"

"Because he is a penniless wretched captain."

"And would he be the happier for being colonel?” asked Feliciana, impatiently.

"His marriage, at any rate, would not be so foolish."

"The marriage of those who love is never foolish," answered Feliciana.

"I advise you for your good, and for the credit of the family, not to marry him," said Bibiana, seriously. "I fulfil my duty as elder sister in advising you not to insist on committing a folly."

"So that it should happen to me the same as to yourself, who have remained to comb Saint Catharine's tresses?"

"I prefer to comb her tresses among people of my own rank than to degrade myself," replied Bibiana. "Besides, I think you are more in haste than time itself to place me in the rank of unmarriageable spinsters."

"With thirty-five years upon you!" exclaimed the girl.

"I am thirty," replied Bibiana. "I am not so foolish and vain as you soon would be as to deny my age."

66

Well, you appear older," answered Feliciana.

"It must be because you have been so long single and impatient at no infant of Spain coming to release you from that unhappy state. For my part, I am sure that whenever you look at that grey hair on your temple you repent not having married the head-surgeon, who was so in love with your dower. I only wish he had carried you off!"

"You spoke in a very different manner," replied Bibiana, without vexation, "that time you were so ill that you wanted me at your bedside. You have forgotten it apparently."

"I have not forgotten that when, full of gratitude, I wished to embrace you, thinking I was going to die, you repulsed me, for fear my illness should be catching.

"In fulfilling my duty as a sister I was not obliged to embrace

you."

"Duty!-duty! I am not grateful for anything that is done as a duty."

"Nor do I wish to inspire gratitude by anything that I do." "And you succeed."

"Well, if you are not grateful for my care, you will be less so for my advice, so I may save myself the trouble of giving it," said Bibiana, rising haughtily and moving towards the door.

"That is what I call the air of a queen," said Feliciana; and she added, laughing, "A queen without vassals! What a pity! All that majesty thrown away!"

At that moment a negro came in and announced the brigadier, colonel of the regiment just arrived.

"That old man!" exclaimed Feliciana, "he at last deigns to visit this house, which has been offered to him since his arrival."

"Here, Bibiana! this Methusaleh is of high rank in the army, and therefore worthy to aspire to you as your equal. Try and conquer this tower of strength, and you will be the wife of a brigadier-general; you will be able to wear galloons on one sleeve and a gold fringe on the other; as for myself, I shall only be a subaltern, so I shall retire from the staff."

Saying this, she left the room.

III.

THREE months after this first visit to the house of Don Claudio Fajardo the brigadier was with Luciano in his library. The former was preoccupied, the second was sad.

After a short silence the brigadier said to his aide-de-camp, with some embarrassment,

"Luciano, what do you think of Bibiana Fajardo?"

"I do not like her," answered the latter, without hesitation, as if he had expected the question.

"And why?" asked the brigadier.

"By instinct, general," answered the young man.

"It is dangerous to form our judgments on such a foundation," replied the brigadier.

"Do not believe it. Instinct is foresight of the soul, an inspiration of the heart."

"You should judge no one by inspiration, Luciano, but by facts and realities."

"Neither ought you to compare a woman to a recruit, general." "Agreed. But there is a just medium between them, which is what ought to guide you to form a right judgment. Is not Bibiana Fajardo a very prudent, well-educated young lady?"

"So report says, and it must be true, if it is favourable." "She has talent, tact, and modesty."

"Everybody allows her these qualities."

"She is a good daughter."

"How has she shown it?"

"Her father publishes the fact."

"In that case it must be true," replied Luciano, with a half smile.

"She is amiable," continued the brigadier.

"Perhaps she may be with you."

"And why should she not be amiable with others, when she is so with me, who am an old man, and am neither elegant nor courteous?""

"Oh, you are a brigadier."

"An excellent recommendation for a girl," exclaimed the brigadier, laughing.

"The best for one who wishes to be the wife of a brigadier," replied the aide-de-camp.

"Luciano," said the brigadier, "speak out, at once and clearly, the motives which induce you to have this antipathy to a person whom you must see interests me."

"In that case I must hold my tongue."

"Not at all, when I entreat you, as a proof of friendship, not to do so."

"Then, general, I will tell you that this woman never pleased me; and now that I see all the art she has used to make you fall into the snare, I add that she is hateful to me."

"She lay a snare? Luciano! how little you know the nobility and dignity of Bibiana's character."

"If the spider weaves its web, it is because she has no spinner to weave it for her; such is not the case with Miss Fajardo, who has friends who foresee her wishes-above all, if it is their interest to do so. For instance, such as the head surgeon, who at one time asked without success for the hand of Bibiana, and intends to offer that of his daughter to Don Claudio when the daughters of the latter are married, and solitude weighs on him; and such is the father's partner, who wishes to rid himself of the daughter, who is a spy upon him."

"Even if this were true, it proves nothing against Bibiana." "That is not in her favour, that under her tightly laced bodice there is no heart to feel and sympathise, and that its place is occupied by an absorbing selfishness," exclaimed the aide-de-camp.

"I believe what you say is a rash judgment, Luciano," replied the brigadier; "but even if it were true, nobody, and I less than any, can hope to find perfection in woman; and as all must have some fault, do you consider selfishness one of the worst? Do you not think that in the balance it would be weighed down by a thousand other good qualities? Have you the idea that one cannot live happily with a selfish person, who possesses, in exchange, a thousand other virtues?"

"I think that no one, and you less than any," answered Luciano, "can be happy when united to a proud and selfish person. What tie can there be between you? One heart is as open as a church, the other is closed like a prison? Selfishness is a chronic disease, which does not show itself in the face, but is incurable. Selfishness is the box of Pandora; the evils that proceed from it are innumerable: and by its side and under its barren shade, no noble and generous virtue can flourish.”

"How excited you get, Luciano," said the brigadier, smiling kindly; "your incomprehensible dislike almost leads me to suspect whether there may be at the bottom, without your knowing it, some jealousy-the jealousy of a young man at seeing a girl give the preference to an old man."

"General," replied Luciano, with emotion, "I am twenty-four. From the time I left college, in fulfilment of my dead father's wishes, I have been at your side; where, then, could I have learned the baseness which is necessary to speak ill of what you think well?"

A short time after Bibiana was the wife of Brigadier Campos. The love and care she showed her old husband were the more natural and unembarrassed as they were sincere, and Bibiana gloried in them.

She triumphed over the public, her brother and sister, and her friends, who had prophesied that the brigadier would not marry, and above all, over Luciano, whose energetic opposition to the marriage of the brigadier had not been hidden from her.

She knew that the aide-de-camp, whose attachment to his chief was well known to her, had not thought her capable of appreciating him nor of loving him as he deserved, and she found a boastful pleasure in proving the contrary. She never named her husband without prefixing the tender though little-used pronoun "my;" for "my Campos" all praise fell short; for "my Campos" all fretting and care were little. His smallest caprices were studied and satisfied by Bibiana, who was rich, with the most careful attention, and regardless of expense; to such an extent that this systematic perseverance would have been wearisome to any but so amiable a man, whom enmity had rarely vexed, and who, therefore, could never be annoyed by what affection dictated.

There had arisen a strange rivalry of love between the wife and the friend of the brigadier, who could not hide their mutual dislike. Bibiana knew she had in Luciano a rival in the affection and esteem of her husband. She could but acknowledge the nobility, the devotion, and the superiority of Luciano's love, so much the more profound and disinterested as the aide-de-camp was related to a noble family, and had friends at court who were better able to forward him in his career than this modest man, who had