She longed for the magic talisman to point her to the hidden treasure, and show her the wonders of the deep, until she felt sure that one day she should discover it. She told all these fancies to her nurse, who was almost her only companion, and who encouraged her, believing her, in her fond love, to be one of the Great Spirit's chosen children.
The winter came on with rare beauty. The rain, so long withheld, fell copiously, until the hills were covered with luxurious verdure and gorgeous flowers. Don Carlos's heart grew lighter; he might hope to recover his losses in time. The orange orchard was laden with fruit, and the lemons fell to the ground from the bending trees. Juanetta loved the green grass, the fragrant flowers, and the golden fruit, and her wild nature expanded into the poetry of the year.
One morning she rose with the crimson dawning, and, stealing away while her old nurse slept, she ran softly to the Lake of the Tulies, and bathed her face in the clear water till the brightness of youth and morning seemed united in her radiant beauty.
Suddenly Juanetta stopped, her tiny hand dripping with water, half raised to her glowing face, and her soft, dark eyes sparkling with strange excitement. Upon the brow of the distant hill, still covered with the mist of the morning, she saw the Chief of the Lake of the Tulies. She knew it was him by the soft, purple light that gathered around him; by the glow of perpetual youth that enveloped him, and by the crimson clouds that dropped their fleece so near, and yet could not conceal his noble bearing.
To her eye, there seemed a shining glory about his bronze beard, and his brow and cheeks glowing in the early sunlight, were fairer than any she had ever seen among the dusky Indian tribes or olive Spaniards.
Down the hill he came, a light straw hat in his hand, and the air playing with the light waves of his abundant hair. On he came to the lake, and to the spot where the little maiden sat, full of wonder and admiration.
He, too, seemed a little surprised when he saw her, but in the soft Spanish tongue, bade her "Good morning," and asked whose little girl she was, and what had brought her so early to the charmed lake.
"I am Don Carlos's daughter, Juanetta," said the child, "and you, the Chief of the Lake of the Tulies?"
A smile gathered around the lips of the Chief, and filled his blue eyes, with a light so pleasant that the child drew near him, and placed her little brown hand confidingly in his. He drew her to him, saying, kindly:—
"You know me, then? I am the Chief of the Lake of the Tulies, and what can I do for the little Juanetta?"