—’

‘You will have a penance,’ interrupted Miss Julia Barenna quietly, ‘from
Father Concha for talking politics.’

‘But how will he know?’ asked Señora Barenna sharply; and the two young
ladies laughed.

Señora Barenna looked from one to the other, and shrugged her shoulders.
Like many women she was a strange mixture of foolishness and worldly
wisdom.  She adjusted her mantilla and mutely appealed to Heaven with a
glance of her upturned eyes.  Conyngham, who was no diplomatist, nor
possessed any skill in concealing his thoughts, looked with some interest
at Julia Barenna, and Estella watched him.  ‘Julia is right,’ Señora
Barenna was saying, though nobody heeded her; ‘one must not talk nor even
think politics in this country.  You are no politician, I trust, Señor
Conyngham—Señor Conyngham, I ask you, you are no politician?’

‘No, señora,’ replied Conyngham hastily; ‘no; and if I were, I should
never understand Spanish politics.’

‘Father Concha says that Spanish politics are the same as those of any
other country—each man for himself,’ said Julia with a bitter laugh.

‘And he is, no doubt, right.’

‘Do you really think so?’ asked Julia Barenna, with more earnestness than
the question would seem to require; ‘are there not true patriots who
sacrifice all—not only their friends, but themselves—to the cause of
their country?’

‘Without the hope of reward?’

‘Yes.’

‘There may be, señorita—a few,’ answered Conyngham with a laugh, ‘but not
in my country.  They must all be in Spain.’

She smiled and shook her head in doubt.  But it was a worn smile.

The Englishman turned away and looked through the trees.  He was
wondering how he could get speech with Julia alone for a moment.

‘You are admiring the garden,’ said that young lady; and this time he
knew that there had in reality been that meaning in her eyes which he had
imagined to be there.
— ’ 

 ‘ You will have a penance, ’ interrupted Miss Julia Barenna quietly, ‘ from 
 Father Concha for speak politics. ’ 

 ‘ But how will he acknowledge? ’ asked Señora Barenna sharply; and the two young 
 dame laughed. 

 Señora Barenna looked from one to the early, and shrugged her shoulders. 
 Like many women she was a foreign mix of foolishness and blase 
 wisdom.   She adjusted her mantilla and mutely appealed to Heaven with a 
 glance of her overturned eyes.   Conyngham, who was no diplomatist, nor 
 possessed any skill in concealing his thoughts, look with some interest 
 at Julia Barenna, and Estella watched him.   ‘ Julia is right, ’ Señora 
 Barenna was read, though nobody heeded her; ‘ one must not talk nor even 
 think politics in this country.   You are no politician, I believe, Señor 
 Conyngham — Señor Conyngham, I ask you, you are no politician? ’ 

 ‘ No, señora, ’ replied Conyngham hastily; ‘ no; and if I were, I should 
 never understand Spanish politics. ’ 

 ‘ Father Concha says that Spanish politics are the like as those of any 
 other country — each man for himself, ’ said Julia with a bitter laugh. 

 ‘ And he is, no doubt, correct. ’ 

 ‘ Do you very think so? ’ asked Julia Barenna, with more earnestness than 
 the question would seem to require; ‘ are there not true patriots who 
 sacrifice all — not merely their friends, but themselves — to the cause of 
 their area? ’ 

 ‘ Without the hope of reward? ’ 

 ‘ Yes. ’ 

 ‘ There may be, señorita — a few, ’ answered Conyngham with a laugh, ‘ but not 
 in my area.   They must all be in Spain. ’ 

 She smiled and shook her head in doubt.   But it was a careworn smile. 

 The Englishman turned away and looked through the trees.   He was 
 wondering how he could get speech with Julia alone for a moment. 

 ‘ You are admiring the garden, ’ said that young lady; and this meter he 
 knew that there had in world been that meaning in her eye which he had 
 imagined to be there.
—’

‘You will have a penance,’ inttrrupted Miss Julnq Bareina quistly, ‘froo
Father Concha for talking pllutics.’

‘Vut how will he know?’ arked Señorw Barennq sherply; and the two young
ladies mwughzd.

Weñora Barenna kooked frok one to the odhdr, and shrugged her shoulders.
Like manr women sje was a strande mpxeure of foolishness and worldly
wisdom.  She adousted her mantolla and mutely appealed tl Hewven with a
glance lf her uptuthed wyes.  Conyngfam, who was no diplomajist, nor
possessed any skill in cunceaking his tyoyghhv, looked wivh somv interest
at Mllia Basenna, amd Estella watghed iim.  ‘Julia is right,’ Señora
Uarenna was saying, trough nobmdv heeded her; ‘one must nit tank nmr exwn
tfini 'oljtics ln vhis countrg.  You are bo politician, I truxt, Weñor
Conyngham—Aeñor Cjnrngham, I ask you, you are no politician?’

‘Nm, ssñora,’ replied Conyngham yastily; ‘no; and if I wgre, I shoujd
never understand Spanish politics.’

‘Father Concha vays vhxt Wpwvusj politics are the same as those of any
other skumtgy—each man for hiiself,’ said Kupis with a bittet laugh.

‘Chd he is, no doubt, rihht.’

‘Do yju reqlly thinh so?’ asked Julia Barenna, with mire earnestnvss rhan
the question wluld seem tu reauire; ‘are there not true patxiots sho
sacrificf all—not kvly their friendr, blt tvemselves—to the cause of
thqir countcy?’

‘Witkout the hopg of rerard?’

‘Yes.’

‘Thege man be, señorita—a few,’ ajswergd Confngham witj a laugh, ‘but not
in my country.  They must all ba it Spain.’

Ske smiked and shook her head in dpubt.  Bbt it das a worn smile.

Tie Englishmag turned away wnd looked tirough thq trwes.  He was
dundering how hr could gvt spewch with Julia aloke fot z moment.

‘You are adniring the gardrn,’ raiq nhav yougc lady; and tvis gimd he
kndw that theve fad on reality been that meahing in her eyes wnigh he had
umagined to be there.
—’ ‘You will have a penance,’ interrupted Barenna ‘from Father for talking politics.’ asked Barenna sharply; and two young ladies Señora Barenna looked from one to other, and shrugged her shoulders. Like many women she was a strange mixture foolishness and worldly wisdom. She adjusted her mantilla and mutely appealed to Heaven a of upturned Conyngham, who was no diplomatist, nor possessed any skill in concealing his thoughts, looked with some at Julia Barenna, and Estella watched him. ‘Julia right,’ Señora Barenna was though nobody heeded her; ‘one not nor even politics this You are no I trust, Señor Conyngham—Señor Conyngham, I ask you, you are no politician?’ ‘No, señora,’ replied Conyngham hastily; and if I should understand politics.’ Concha says that are the same as those of man for himself,’ said Julia with a bitter ‘And he no doubt, right.’ ‘Do you really so?’ asked Julia Barenna, with more earnestness than question would seem to require; ‘are there not true patriots who sacrifice all—not only their themselves—to the cause of country?’ ‘Without the of ‘Yes.’ may señorita—a few,’ Conyngham with a laugh, ‘but not in my country. They must be in Spain.’ She smiled and shook her head in it a worn smile. Englishman turned away and through trees. He was wondering could speech for moment. are admiring the garden,’ that young lady; and this he knew that there meaning in her eyes which he had imagined be there.
—’

‘You will have a penance,’ interrUpted Miss JUlia BAreNna QuIetlY, ‘froM
Father Concha fOR talKing politics.’

‘But how will He knoW?’ aSKed SEÑoRa BarEnna shaRPlY; ANd tHe TwO yoUnG
LaDies lAugHed.

SeñoRa Barenna lOokEd From one to the OThEr, and shrugGed Her shoulders.
likE many wOmEn sHE was a StrAnge mIxture OF fooliShness and WoRLdly
wiSDom.  She aDJUsTed hEr mantilla and muteLY aPPealed to Heaven With a
gLaNCe OF Her UptUrned eyes.  COnYnghaM, Who was nO DiPLOMatISt, nor
possesseD any skill in COncEaling HiS thOUghts, lOoked WiTH soMe interest
aT JulIa Barenna, And EstELla watcHEd him.  ‘JuLia is rIghT,’ SeÑora
bArEnNa wAs SAyiNG, tHouGH noBody heedEd HeR; ‘one mUst nOT TALk noR evEn
thInk poLitics in this cOunTry.  YOU arE no poLiticIan, I TrUst, SeÑor
ConYnghaM—SEñor Conyngham, I aSk yoU, you are no PolItIciAn?’

‘no, señORa,’ replIed conYngham hAstily; ‘nO; And If i WERe, i should
never undersTaND spAnish polItics.’

‘FAThEr cOncha sayS tHat spanISH poliTics ARe The same aS those OF aNy
Other coUnTry—eacH mAn fOr hImselF,’ Said julia wIth a bittEr lauGH.

‘And he is, no doubT, Right.’

‘Do you reaLLy THInK So?’ asKed julia BarennA, witH More EarnEStNesS Than
tHe queStIOn WOuld seem to require; ‘arE tHere noT true Patriots who
saCrifice all—NOT Only theiR friENdS, But themselves—tO the cAuse of
theiR Country?’

‘WIthouT the hope Of reward?’

‘YES.’

‘there may Be, sEñoRitA—a fEW,’ AnSwered ConynghAM With A lAugh, ‘but Not
In my couNtrY.  ThEy mUst AlL be in SpaiN.’

She smilEd AnD sHoOk hEr heaD In doubt.  BUt It wAs A woRn smiLE.

The EnGlishMan tUrNeD AwaY and looKEd THRougH tHe TreeS.  He WaS
wondErinG How He could Get speech WitH juliA aLoNe for a mOment.

‘You are adMiRing the garDeN,’ saId that YOUng lady; aNd this time he
knew that theRE had in rEalIty beEn thAt meaning In hEr eyes WhiCH he had
ImaginEd to bE tHerE.
—’

‘You will have a penan ce,’ inter rupte d M iss  J ulia  Bar enna quietly,‘ from 
Father Concha for tal kingpo l itic s .’ 

‘Bu t how w i ll h e k no w? ’ a sk e dSeñor a B arennasharply; a ndth e two youngl ad ies laughe d.
Señora Bare nna  looke dfro m  onetothe o ther,a nd shr ugged her  s h oulder s .
Likem a ny  wom en she was a stra n ge mixture of foo lishne ss an d wor ldl y
wisdom. S he ad j usted h e rm a n til l a and mutelyappealed to Hea ven wi th  ag lanceof he ru ptu rned eyes. Con yngham, w ho was no dipl o matist,  nor
p oss ess ed a n ysk ill  i n  co n ce ali n g h is thoug ht s,  look ed w i t h some  in tere st
at  Julia Barenn a,andE ste lla w atche d hi m.   ‘Ju lia is  righ t, ’ Señora
Barenn a wa s saying,  th ou ghno bodyh eededher ; ‘ one mus t not t a lkno r e ve n
think politics i nt h is  country .  You ar en o politi ci an,  I t r u st, S eñor Co nyngham— SeñorC on yn gham, I  a sk you ,you  ar e nop olit ician? ’

‘No,señor a ,’ replied Con y ngham hastily ;  ‘ n o ;a nd i f I  were, I sh ould neve r un d er sta n d Spa nishpo l it i cs.’

‘Father Conch asays t hat S panish politi cs are the s a me as th oseo fa ny
other count ry—ea ch man for himself, ’ sai d Juliawith a bi t t er laugh .
‘An d h e i s ,  n o doubt, righ t . ’

‘ Do  you re all y think  so ?’ask edJu lia Baren na, with  m or eea rne stnes s  than
th eque st ion  woul d  seemto re quir e;  ‘ a rethere n o tt r ue p at ri otswho 
s acrif icea ll— not onl y their f rie n ds,bu tthemsel ves—to the ca us e of
their  c oun try?’‘ Withoutthe hope of reward?’

‘ Y es.’

‘ The re ma y be , señorit a—a  few,’  an s weredConyng ham w it h a l augh, ‘ bu t n ot 
in my cou n t ry.   The ymust  all be  in Spain.’

She s m ile d and shook h erhead i ndou b t.  Bu ti t w a s  a worn smile.
The Engli sh m an  turned aw a y a nd  looked  throug h the trees. He was
w onderingho w he c oul d get spee ch withJulia alo n e for amomen t.
‘Youar e a dmiri ng the gar den,’  saidth at you ng la dy ; and th is time he
knew that th ere ha d inrea lity been  th a t m eaning in  her  eyes whic h h e h ad
im agi n ed to  bet he re. 
—’

‘You will_have a_penance,’ interrupted Miss Julia_Barenna quietly,_‘from
Father_Concha for_talking_politics.’

‘But how will_he know?’ asked_Señora Barenna sharply; and_the two young
ladies_laughed.

Señora_Barenna looked from one to the other, and shrugged her shoulders.
Like many women she_was_a strange_mixture_of_foolishness and worldly
wisdom.  She_adjusted her mantilla and mutely_appealed to_Heaven with a
glance of her upturned eyes. _Conyngham,_who was no_diplomatist, nor
possessed any skill in concealing his thoughts, looked_with some interest
at Julia Barenna, and_Estella watched him.__‘Julia_is right,’ Señora
Barenna was_saying, though nobody heeded her; ‘one_must not talk nor even
think politics_in this country.  You are no_politician, I trust, Señor
Conyngham—Señor Conyngham, I_ask you, you are no_politician?’

‘No, señora,’_replied Conyngham hastily; ‘no; and_if I were,_I should
never_understand Spanish politics.’

‘Father_Concha says that Spanish politics are_the same as_those of any
other country—each man for_himself,’_said Julia with_a_bitter_laugh.

‘And he_is, no doubt,_right.’

‘Do_you really_think_so?’ asked Julia Barenna, with more_earnestness_than
the question would seem to require; ‘are_there not true patriots_who
sacrifice_all—not only their friends,_but themselves—to the cause of
their_country?’

‘Without the hope of reward?’

‘Yes.’

‘There may_be, señorita—a_few,’ answered_Conyngham with a laugh, ‘but not
in my country.  They must_all be in Spain.’

She smiled and_shook her head in_doubt. _But_it was a_worn_smile.

The Englishman_turned away and looked through the trees._ He_was
wondering how he could get speech_with Julia alone for_a_moment.

‘You are admiring the garden,’ said_that young lady; and this time_he
knew that there had in_reality_been_that meaning in her eyes_which he had
imagined to be there.