Lyon County times. [volume] (Silver City, Nev.) 1874-1907, 1893-07-29

mega were as conspicuous as usual, but
he managed to devote most of his time
to Chonita.
That night Chonita had dream. She
dreamed that she awoke without soul.
The sense of vacancy was awful, yet
there was singular undercurrent con-
sciousness that no soul ever had been
within her-that it existed, but was
yet to be found.
She arose, trembling, and opened her
door, Santa Barbara was as quiet as
all the world is in the chill last hours of
night. She half expected to see some
thing hover before her, will-o'-the-wisp,
alluring her over the rocky valleys and
towering mountains until death gave
her weary feet rest. She remembered
vaguely that she had read legends of that
purport.
But there was nothing-not even the
glow of late cigarito or the fash of a
falling star. Still she seemed to know
where the soul awaited her. She closed
her door softly and walked swiftly down
the corridor, her bare feet making no
sound ON the boards. At door on the
opposite side she paused, shaking vio-
lently, but unable to pass it. She opened
the door and went in. The room, like
all the others in that time of festivity,
had more occupants than its wont. A
bed was in each corner. The shutters
and windows were open; the moonlight
streamed in and she saw that all were
asleep. She crossed the room and looked
down upon Diego Estenega. His night
garment, low about the throat, made
his head, with its sharply cut profile, look
like the heads on old Roman medallions.
The pallor of night, the extreme re-
fnement of his face, the deep repose,
gave him an immortal appearance.
Chonita bent over him fearfully. Was
he dead? His breathing was regular, but
very quiet. She stood gazing down upon
him, the instinct of seeking vanished.
What did it mean2 Was this her soul?
A man? How could it be? Even in
poetry she had never read of a man being
a woman's soul-a man with all his
frailties and sins, for the most part un-
repented. She felt rather than knew
that Estenega had trampled many laws,
and that he cared too little for any law
but his own will to repent. And yet,
there he he lay, looking in the gray light
and the impersonality of sleep, as sin
less as if he had been created within the
the hour. He looked not like man, but
spirit-a soul, and the soul was hers.
Again she asked herself, What did it
mean? Was the soul but brain? She
and he were so alike in rudiments, yet
he SO immeasurably beyond her in ex-
perience and knowledge and the stronger
fiber of mans mind.
He awoke suddenly and saw her. For
moment he stared incredulously, then
raised himself on his hand.
"Chonita!' he whispered.
But Chonita, with the long glide of
the Californian woman. dissolved from
the room.
When she awoke the next morning she
was assailed by distressing fear. Had
she been to Estenegas room the night
before? The memory was too vivid; the
details too practical for sleep vagary.
At breakfast she hardly dared to raise
her eyes. She felt that he was watching
her; but he often watched her. After
breakfast they were alone at one end of
the corridor for a moment, and she COM
PEELED herself to raise her eyes and look
at him steadily. He was regarding her
searchingly.
She was not woman to endure uncer-
tainty.
Tell me-" she cried, trembling from
head to foot, the blood rushing over her
face, did go to your room last nightg'
"Dona Chonitar' he exclaimed. what
an extraordinary question! You have
been dreaming"