Daily capital journal. (Salem, Oregon) 1903-1919, 1906-08-07
A DAUGHTER OF
THE AZTECS


o'clock tea is no place for a man,
and even yet l marvel that / should
have been inveigled into responding
to Mrs. Allerton's bit of pasteboard
in person.
You always know quite we'll what
to expect-a room so dark you
stumble over things, and confused
and irritating cackle of many women
talking at once, and the necessity of
swallowing lot of stuff that is a
reproach to your lunch and an insult
to your forthcoming dinner.
l must say that Mrs. Allerton does
things better than most, and it is
really a precious privilege to inspect
her cups, but as l opened the door
confused murmur of voices met me
and in moment more | found my
self in the thick of the hubbub, MAX
ing my bow over Mrs. Gray's fat
hand.
"Oh! DOCTOR" she said, moving
aside her draperies and waving me
into a seat beside her, don't you
know, you are just the person in the
world l am dying to see?"
Professionally, madam" l asked
as she tapped me on the hand with
ponderous playfulness.
"No, no, you naughty thing;
was just telling these ladies about
Philip Hartness marrying a cowboy,
or something of that kind, out in
Texas"
But that you said it," l mur-
INJURED, family, 81 wouldn't have be-
lieved it possible. OF course we all
know that the Texas law in effete
and weakened except in the matter
of horse stealing; still
"Oh! you horrid creature" Mrs.
Gray cried again, tapping me with
her fan. Now. do be a good boy and
tell us just how it happened, for l
know you were there and assisted at
! the orgy, or rite, or whatever they
! call such functions. Is she pretty,
for suppose that, after all, in this
case the cowboy is she?"
l looked hopelessly around, saw
no means of escape, and then
thought of my friend and his young
wife, and remembered that these
women held her social destiny in
their hand. Mrs. Gray herself was
not unkindly, and in the faces turn
ed toward me was one in whose deep
dark eyes | read understanding and
sympathy.
Dear madam" / said your re-
quests are commands. To begin with
Dolores-it is a sad little name
isn't tits something more than
pretty. Her mother was Mexican
You needn't shrug your shoulders
She comes of one of the old Aztec
families and assure you they scorn
our best blood as something entirely
too much of yesterday to be serious
ly considered, and her people raised
pretty row when Dolores mother
fell in love with an Englishman and
persisted in marrying him. Poor
thing, she didn't live long enough to
fulfill their prophecies and regret 1t
but she bequeathed Dolores the finest
eyes you ever saw-deep, dark lus-
trous, with a tawny flash in them
that makes you remember them
when you have forgotten how perfect
is the oval of her face and how
blood-red the scarlet line of her
mouth. She was a sensation In
| Paris"
What! Paris?" in incredulous
chorus from my audience.
YES" l answered, quietly. "She
was educated in Paris. You see, her
father owns the cattle on a thousand
hills, or whatever is the modern
equivalent to that, and he. worships
Dolores. She never had what you
would call good breeding. She lived
alone with her father at their hacien-
da until one time she chanced to go
with him to the city to sell the cattle.
Some women looked curiously at her
and made a sighting remark on her
clothes, or appearance, that struck
fire to the proud little heart.
81 am an Aztec, she said, fierce
II ly, to her father that night. i Will
not be shamed by los Americanos.
Give me the education and clothes
that beft my birth. Paris is the
heart of the world. will go there
And her father, who had never
thwarted her in her life, made the
journey with her and left her in a
famous pension with a letter OF