As he was obliged often to go from home on business, he employed an old Indian woman as duenna, and charged her never to allow the girls out of her sight for a moment.
Rosebud was a Spanish girl, with purple-tinged hair, soft black eyes, and clear olive complexion. Through the satin skin the warm blood flushed her cheeks, and her lips were more tempting than ripe cherries; but Snowdrop was a rare German maiden in complexion, clear and fair as the noonday. Her eyes were like violets. Her hair in the sunshine was like fine spun gold, and so long that it reached to her feet, and hung like a mantle of glory about her.
It was no wonder the old man guarded his daughters so carefully; for though so different, they were equally beautiful, and all the young men of good family were anxious to pay court to them.
Day by day they sat upon the piazza of the inner court, reading the fascinating romances of old Spain, which was to them the dreamland of delight. They longed very much to go out, and see something of life among the rich Spanish families about San Gabriel and Los Angeles, but their father would not allow it; and the old duenna was always near them; even when they walked through the vineyard or the orange orchard, she followed them.
One day, Rosebud called Snowdrop into the garden, and sitting under a large almond-tree, she said: “Look over this book of prints with me, while we talk softly, for the duenna must not hear every thing.”
Snowdrop rested her golden tresses upon her sister’s arm, and, turning over the leaves of the book, they talked together.
“Sister dear,” said Rosebud, “we lead a very dull life here. All young girls are gay and happy. What is the use of being beautiful, with no one to see us but servants and old women?” A look of conscious beauty gathered around her pouting lips, as she ran her dainty fingers through the silken meshes of her sister’s golden hair.
“Our dear papa loves us,” said Snowdrop, “but I do wish to be loved by others,” she added—her violet eyes softening, and a faint flush spreading over her fair cheeks and neck.
“And I to be admired! but how can we be either?” replied Rosebud, “shut up here, with the old duenna to watch every thing we do? God made us beautiful, and I’m sure he intended us to be seen. And for my part, I am determined to go to the consul’s grand ball, if I have to run away!” and her pretty dark eyes filled with tears.
“Oh! sister Rosebud, think of the dear papa!” said Snowdrop.