My new friend had spent the previous season in San Gabriel; she was familiar with the locality, and offered at once to intercede in our behalf with the Doña Maria Del Valle. When she told, in her captivating way, of the quaint, picturesque Spanish home, I could content myself with no other retreat, and begged that the preliminary arrangements might be made at once. From the first moment of our acquaintance, Mrs. Sanderson's attentions had been agreeable. As soon as we arrived at the hotel she was perfectly at home. Every one hastened to serve her, and I perceived that she was an acknowledged authority wherever she went. My mind was not then equal to the analysis of character. I was unsuspicious and willing to believe in the assumed qualities of those about me. It was enough that my child was improving hourly in health, and that I had found a congenial and sympathetic companion in my extremity. Now that I have undertaken a story in which Mrs. Sanderson and her son Sidney so conspicuously figure, I feel compelled to review carefully my early and subsequent impressions of both, in order that the events of our short and memorable acquaintance may be readily understood. Doubtless my estimate of entire strangers would have been different under less intense circumstances; but, at that time, any one who appeared interested in my child was at once my friend--not only the conspicuous and influential, but the humble and uncultivated, as well. Looking back over those trying weeks, I now remember hosts of delicate attentions dispensed by the unpretentious, that at the time were hardly realized, owing to the effusive ostentations of the Sandersons.