Bragdon that night sat outside his door, himself, and seeing some young man riding past he ordered his daughter within the house, although the night was glorious. So Luis had no such fortunate meeting with the girl that night. Hope was disappointed, for she had hoped that perhaps the dark handsome boy would come back to amuse her and teach her some more Spanish. Mrs. Trenour was going up to Taos the next morning with Colonel St. Vrain to meet her husband, and Hope would be left alone except for Doren. A number of black-shawled Mexican women had come in to see her that morning and had talked rapidly and made polite-sounding expressions which she could not in the least understand. Had she but known it they were telling her about the water, warning her that her papa must not take it, that it was not his, that at this time of the year it belonged indeed to the Indians of the Tesuque pueblo above them. One of the women brought an earthen jar filled with _tortillas_, wrapped in a clean white cloth. This Hope could understand, and smiled one of her rare but sweet smiles in gratitude. They got along famously after that, and when the women left, each took Hope by the shoulders and laid her left cheek against the girl’s in farewell. Hope was thinking of this with pleasure as she sat watching the moon riding high over the mountains. It was all very strange to this Puritan girl. And yet her changed surroundings did not affect her as much as they would have affected most people. Hope lived an inner life that was inarticulate, that had built up a defensive barrier against the disappointments of a rigorous upbringing, and that was moved only by what happened to Doren. And by the memory of her tender, silent mother, who had put the tiny baby brother into her arms when she was dying, having the little girl promise always to take care of him. Hope had no idea of being beautiful in the eyes of this new world, nor of the excitement of which she had been the cause on the night of the _baile_. But her father had heard of it through the traders next day, and through St. Vrain. He was furious and swore that no Greaser rakes should annoy his girl. Hope had been asleep for some time when a soft strain of music crept upon her consciousness, again and again, a repeated strain. She sprung to her feet and crept toward the window. Never before in her life had she been serenaded, yet she knew that that was what this must be; that this music was for her. A man’s voice was singing. She caught the words that Luis had been trying to teach her the night before. “Oh, Anita, _como te amo, a ti_, ----”