"The letter did not reach him, or else he has gone by boat," said the other, steadily. "Anita, why do you sometimes seem not quite friendly to Rafael? Your words—"
"Never think it!" cried Ana. "We are friends enough, but—I know him better than his mother—that is all! He has turned the heads of many girls, but I do not think he has turned yours, Raquelita!"
The other girl made no reply.
"I do not think so," continued her friend, "because you have never once lost sight of duty,—the duty Doña Luisa and the padre have taught you to see. You are good, Raquel,—when you are not in a temper; but about Rafael you do not think your own thoughts. You dream of the life of your father and Doña Luisa when all this land was theirs. But the dream is gone, and to-day we wake up."
"I see—the old world was too slow. You wake up to be all Americano—no?"
"Raquel, do you hate them as much as Doña Luisa?"
The girl from Mexico turned her face toward the sea, and did not answer at once. Then she said:
"Only once in my life have I spoken with an Americano, and I did not hate him."
"A young man?"
"He—he was not old," she confessed.