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A legend of Sonora by Hildegarde Hawthorne. Two persons, a man and a

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woman, faced each other under a
clump of live oaks. Hard by were

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visible the walls of an adobe house
crumbling with age. The sun was setting.

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A slight breeze stirred in the dark
branches of the trees, which,

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all through the hot Mexican day had
been motionless. The woman was dark and

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small, with large eyes and a
graceful body. The man a swarthy vicaro

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in serape and sombrero. And you
heard him say that, said she,

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yes, Senorita. He said I
love you. I love you twice like

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that, and then he kissed her. Ah, he kissed her anything else

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this He handed her a slip of
folded paper. It contained a woman's name,

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a few words of passion, and
a signature. As the Signorita's eyes

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perused it, they contracted, and
she drew a long breath. The vicero

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watched her keenly. I found it
in the arbor after they had gone,

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said he. She looked away dreamily. Thank you, thank you, mazeppa.

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She muttered. It is late,
I must go in now, Adius

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Mazeppa. She turned, and,
moving slowly vanished behind a corner of the

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adobe house. The Valkio remained motionless
until she was out of sight. Then

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he pressed his hands to his lips
and flung them out toward her with a

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passionate gesture. The next moment he
had mounted his horse and was gone.

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A hour passed again the sound of
hoofs. A handsome young signor, jauntily

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attired, galloped up to the door
of the house, and, springing from

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the saddle, hitched his rein over
a large hook projecting from the wall.

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O l Ah, Maria, little
one, he called out, in a

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rich, joyous voice. Where is
my little Maria? The senorita appeared,

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smiling. She was in white,
with a riboso drawn around her delicate face.

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She bore a two handled silver cup. Curiously chased see, she said,

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I have brought you some wine.
Such a long ride just to see

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me. She was holding out the
cup toward him, but as he was

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about to receive it, she drew
it back. Suddenly, she was pale,

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her eyes glittered. I too am
thirsty, she said. She lifted

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the cup to her lips and took
a deep draft. Now you shall finish

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it, she added, handing it
to him. He nodded to her laughingly.

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To our love, he said,
and drained it. But how strangely

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you look at me, little one, he exclaimed, as he set the

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cup down and caught his breath.
Is anything wrong? All is well?

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She answered? I am happy?
Are you happy? I? I am

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with you? Am I not?
She put her hand in his. Let

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us never be parted any more,
She said, Come, we'll walk to

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the hill top and see the moon
rise. Hand in hand, they sauntered

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along the path up the bare hill
side. On and on they walked,

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slowly, slowly. Maria gave a
little gasp and glanced with dilated eyes at

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her lover. He smiled faintly and
tried to draw her toward him, but

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somehow did not, And still they
moved slowly on their way. The hilltop

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seemed strangely far off. Maria pressed
forward, grasping her lover's hand. What

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made the distance seem so long?
Surely it was but a stroll of ten

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minutes, Yet it was as though
they had been walking an hour a year

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many years. Down the hillside path
came a horseman, riding quietly and humming

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a love song. He was close
upon the two figures before he appeared to

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be aware of them. The half
stopped as if to speak to him.

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The horse shivered and plunged. The
rider stared at the couple, but an

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instant then, driving home his spurs, he sprang past them. Mother of

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God, he faltered, crossing himself
as he threw a backward glance up the

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path, on which nothing was now
visible. The ghosts the little girl who

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they say down below poisoned herself and
her lover fifty years ago. And of

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a legend of Sonora by Hildegarde Hawthorne