The times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1897-1901, 1898-03-13
ChiId's REFERS, Sl.49.

Spanish; her knowledge of the language
was good, but she would not trust il in
this case. Every word in the thing had
been compared with a dictionary. And
now that she had verified her under
standing of it, she still could not see
what it was.
For Ernest was her husband-a mar
ried man. Why, therefore, should any
woman-Spanish or otherwise-write
him, calling him her dearest ETnestO."
the light of her soul, her beloved"
begging that he would come TO her, in
Vera Cruz, and that she was. las al
ways, his novia-hiS sweetheart, An
tia" 1t came to her dully-for the heat
had made her stupid, as she thought TO
herSelf-that RObb had sometimes muir
INJURED this same name in his dreams.
There had been all those months. too,
in Vera Cruz, before he had returned to
marry her Perhaps he had then known
this wOman-Anitai But even If he had
why should he leave his wife now to go
to her-what claim or right could she
have?
She sat there quietly. calmly think
ing it all out She was trying to real
ize what it all meant, what she should
do. OF course, if Ernest could leave
her-his wife, the woman who had given
him love. faith and all her fOrtune-fOr
this creature-what was her name
Anita-she must go away and leave him
to the woman he loved best. She did
not believe in the law of divOrce-there
was no getting around those words,
Those whom God hath Joined together.
let no man put asunder." But she could
go away.
Meanwhile. her head ached. and she
felt very queer and stupid. Perhaps
she had best lie down for awhile and
not think about it, Not that she was
suffering; it was strange to feel so calm
about it Any other woman. on discOv-
ering that her husband was false and
cared no longer. would faint, and weep
and cry. She didn't. Tears were i'm
possible; she would lie down and try
to sleep.
Much later that afternoon the sun
going down in a gorgeous blaze of color
such as one sees only in the tropics,
flung crimson and yellow streaks into
the quiet room, with its pretty furnish
ings one yellow blaze fell across the
lounge, and changed Mrs. RObbs halr
from brown to gold, and tlickeTed I'M
certainly on her white brow. But she
murmured Uneasily in her sleep, and
still one small brown hand-sunburned
and roughened from the hacienda life
clenched tightly the soiled scrap of
paper-the letter from Anita
Without a doubt Mrs. Robb asleep
was almost as pretty as Mrs. RObb
awake So Robb had often said, in the
attempt to tease her; so evidently now
thought a most peculiar insect that was
making its way with a great display
of curious, snaky-looking feelers down
the wall from the matched roof of the
hacienda. You couldn't call it a spider.
for it was three times the size of a
spider, and most extraordinarily mark
ed on such part Of it as wasn't legs.
About as big as the Mexican silver dol
covered 1t wriggled itself along slow
ly. now and then gathering itself to-
gether in a small black hairy bunch.
Mrs Robb as she lay on her lounge.
attracted the attention of the thing.
whatever ii was. And yet not so much
Mrs. Robb as a yellow shining ornament
that lay at the base of her throat and
which the lOW-necked wrapper plainly
let show 1t was only a tiny gold lock-
ct, containing RObb's picture. which
Mrs. Robb wore night and day out of
sight under her bodice. OF course the
thing on the wall could not know this:
but it did want to investigate for it
self
An uncomfortable tickling on her
neck reused Dorothy; half asleep, and
thinking that Robb had returned, she
put up her hand and brushed at what
ever it was doubtless Robb with a
straw. In reply there was a curious
hiss and a singing frightful pain-that
was all. 1t woke her thoroughly, and