Waterbury evening Democrat., 1891-12-14

country 1t IS little singular, is 1t not, that stretch of fertile country between Irapuato and Queretaro? l divide my time between that place and this, with month or two now and then in Mexico. But, rich, productive and beautiful, too as the Bajio is, both my daughter and myself prefer this wilder country; and if we were called upon to name our home. 1 think we should say Mirafores Without doubt" said Dona Zarifa There is no place in the world so dear to me as this"
 "That is very good for girl who is fresh from a season in Paris. is it not?" said Don Maurizio. as he laid his hand caressingly on her wrist.
 She placed her other hand over his, and looked up at him with her dark eyes melting into a more liquid softness than they had known before. You were not in Paris" she said, with an enchant- ing smile.
 No, thank heavenr' he answered gay ly. What should a Mexican hacien- dado, with his heart among his hncks and herds, do there? But go, carina mia, and give us some music. Let Mr. Derwent see what he thinks of our Mex ican airs"
 She rose instantly and moved across the hoor-a perfect picture of grace, Derwent thought, in her soft, simmer ing draperies, and with her natural, un- studied charm of step and bearing. Sitting down to the piano, she struck few chords and began to sing in con- tralto so rich and sweet that it was like notes drawn from violin by a master hand rather than the sounds of the human voice. What she sang her lis tener did not know-the words were Spanish-but the air was wild, haunt ing, mournful, and yet passionate in the extreme AS he listened he seemed to see the rugged mountain passes, the great Sierras like storm tossed waves, the vast expanse of mighty plains. the sad, gentle faces and passionate eyes of the people; then the strain sank to lower key, a tender sweetness stole into it, as though tropical flowers were breath ing their fragrance out on the starry night, and with one last burst of sad, strange melody it ended,
 'Oh, yes, it is Mexican" said Don Maurizio-"one of the wild native airs that finger among the people and that are now and then caught and formulated by the composers"
 What did it say to you, senor?" asked Zarifa, turning around.
 He told what it had suggested, and she smiled as if pleased "A girl is re- lating how her lover has been killed among the wild mountains, and how her own heart is broken" she said At the close she wanders back to memories of their love, of how in the summer night he would come and sing beneath her window. Then she remembers that he is dead, and ends with cry of despair"
 "A very mournful motif" said Dor Maurlzio. Give us something a little more cheerful, and then l will play phy- sician and order MT. Derwent to bed"
 ''Sing an Ave Maria, my child," said aquiet voice at the door; and as Derwent looked in that direction he saw a tall, slender man, wearing the cassock of 8 priest, enter the room.
 This is a member of our family group whom you would have met earlier if he had not been absent until today" said Don MauriZio; tour good friend and chaplain, Padre Francisco"
 There was something very charming in the dark, gentle face, with finely out lined features and soft brown eyes that looked at Derwent with smile as they shook hands
 "l am grieved to hear of your acci- dent, senor, he said in very good Eng fish. 'As Don Maurizio has remarked, l have been away for two weeks, else should have expressed my regret sooner. But you are getting well?"
 T0oruyonf rnnlin1 ifoI turning to Dona Zarifa, said, II hope that, since am under orders to retire, senorita, you will sing at least one more song before go,"
 Il will sing the Ave Maria for which el padre has asked" she replied. ''l think you will like that"
 Derwent was very sure of it, when he heard the strains of Cherubini's Ave Maria" Often as he had heard this beautiful song before, it was always in soprano arrangement, and he thought that he had never appreciated it's exqui- site harmonies until he heard them ren- dered by Dona Zarifa's rich contralto tones. She sang it like a prayer: and the noble strains fingered in his ear long after he said good night and retired to his chamber.
 They haunted him after he had laid his head on his pillow Still in his mem- ory vibrated the full, mellow notes of the enchanting voice, and before his eyes | fioated picture of the silken draped form, with it's silver ornaments, and the beautiful face out of which shone the starlike splendor of the dark eyes. It was not strange that his last thought before falling asleep was to say to him self severely, Fl must take care that l am not such fool as to fall in love with Dona Zarifa."
 CHAPTER TX.