"I—I wrote to her mother the other day. I know you don't like me to be making preparations for my death, Carlita, but—"
"Oh, mother!"
"Well, what is a woman to do when she sees death staring her in the face and no one will believe it?" cried the woman, fretfully. "I wanted to make some provision for you, and—"
"My dear, my dear, if you knew how this pains me, I am sure—"
"If I don't know, it isn't because you haven't told me often enough, Heaven knows!" exclaimed Mrs. de Barryos, with irritation. "You never think of any one but yourself, Carlita."
For a moment it seemed as if the girl were about to utter a protest; then she thought better of it, and contented herself with a little gesture of deprecation and silence.
After a brief hesitation, her mother continued more quietly, soothed, perhaps, by her daughter's submission:
"Your Aunt Erminie and I never agreed, and so I knew that you would not desire to live there at my death, and so I have written to Jessica's mother, who was my old school friend, asking if I might appoint her your guardian. She has written today, through Jessica, to say that she will be very happy to accept the trust. I have not seen Louise for a very great many years; but I have always loved her, and I am quite sure that she will be kind to my little motherless girl."
"Oh, mother! Why will you persist in saying such dreadful things?"
"Because I know the end is not far off, my dear, and—"