"When he left he did not tell me his destination, so I fancy he has not gone to any great distance."
"Ah, well! We women wait while the men travel forth to dare and do. It's the way of the world."
The woman and the girl sat facing each other. The closed shutters excluded the sun, but the warm light of a California summer day glowed in the room. Less than five years divided the ages of the matron and the maid. At first sight it might seem that the difference was greater. The tightly fitting riding-habit of the señora added a maturity to her look which was not usual, while the looser afternoon gown of the girl gave her an uncommonly youthful appearance. Carmelita was somewhat taller than the señora and more slender.
"I hope your arm has not greatly inconvenienced you," from Carmelita, by a strange perversity reverting to the matter so lightly dismissed by the señora a moment ago.
"Yes, and no, señorita. The wound is sometimes painful, but the solicitude of those about me shows me I have a place in their hearts—a pleasant knowledge—an anodyne, so to speak." She put her hand up to her head in a childish way which was very becoming. Her oval face beamed with friendliness, while her brown eyes smiled sweetly. She was a very handsome young woman, apparently very friendly and very genuinely interested in the girl before her. Carmelita was not insensible to her charm.
"You have a place in the hearts of many, señora. Surely you could never doubt it."
"Well, perhaps not. Still, one wishes outward expression of inward regard. Otherwise, how can one be sure it exists?"
Señorita Mendoza said nothing.
"Then, too, we wish, naturally, to know just how a certain very few stand toward us—sometimes just how a certain one person feels toward us. Now, there are some who are very good to all. Their hearts are kind naturally, and they give generous words and deeds to anyone who needs them. Is it not so, señorita?"
"I believe you speak truly, señora doña."