It was the plant I was examining to-day." "I think I can show it to you," said Guest, with a slight increase of color, as he preceded her towards the memorable cactus near the door, "but I doubt if it has any flower." Nevertheless, it had.

A bright red blossom, like a spot of blood drawn by one of its thorns.

He plucked it for her, and she placed it in her belt.
"You are forgiving," he said, admiringly.
"YOU ought to know that," she returned, looking down.
"I ?--why ?" "You were rude to me twice." "Twice!" "Yes--once at the Mision of La Perdida; once in the road at San Antonio." His eyes became downcast and gloomy.

"At the Mision that morning, I, a wretched outcast, only saw in you a beautiful girl intent on overriding me with her merciless beauty.

At San Antonio I handed the fan I picked up to the man whose eyes told me he loved you." She started impatiently.