Perceiving that I was hurt, she endeavored to appease me.
"Never mind, little dignity," she said, smiling her rarest smile. "You are always preaching me silent sermons; though you don't mean to scorn me, I feel your principle in the air, until I am wild to shock you in return."
Later, we went for our walk, each a little uncomfortable, as each began to wonder why she had chosen the other for her friend.
Upon our return Mrs. Sanderson had remained in the corridor in front of the open fire attempting to dry her dress. I went above at once. As I passed the familiar sitting-room I saw through the open door that the room was deserted. Mrs. Wilbur and Mariposilla had evidently not made a success of the practicing. Without stopping I went to my own rooms, where I found Marjorie still asleep.
Pushing open a communicating door, I saw Mariposilla upon her bed. Her head was buried in the pillow, while long, choking sobs caught and held her breath. She had been so happy but a short time before, flattered and pleased because Mrs. Wilbur had invited her to practice duets, that I was surprised at her condition.
"Tell me, dear child," I said, gently, "what has happened."
For several moments she refused to speak, but after a time she grew more composed. It was clear to me at once that Mrs. Wilbur was responsible for the girl's passionate grief.
"Never mind my unhappiness, dear Señora," she said at last, touchingly. "I am a poor, foolish girl, and must weep when I am sad; just as I rejoice when I am happy. It is not so with the Americans—they smile always, even though they are miserable."
I found it impossible to insist upon a confidence.
"Yes, dear," I agreed, "as people grow wise and worldly, they generally grow deceitful. I dare not advise you to cultivate insincerity; but for convenience you must endeavor to control your emotions. You will, after a time, learn that it is often best to smile, even though you feel sore. Often a heartache or a heart hunger will go away when we have bravely concealed it."