The front window shades were closely drawn to exclude the morning sun, but looking north, to the great, quiet mountains, an open window invited the cool breath of the day. Without understanding my motives, I took a hasty survey of the silent room. To all appearances everything was as usual. A sheet had been drawn over the face of the dead, and the holy candles were burning low and pale. Mariposilla's little cross of white roses was still fresh where the child had placed it, the table of medicines undisturbed except the tumbler containing the unused opiate. Horrible discovery! The poisonous glass was gone, and the dark, innocent-looking bottle that remained was empty. How could I grasp the frightful suspicion? How believe that the Virgin had forgotten her child? How bear the burden of my own selfish slumbers? Why in the night had I not understood the mocking-birds when they called in vain, "Señora! Señora! Señora?" * * * * * A few moments later Arturo bore in his arms from the arbor the lifeless body of Mariposilla. From her beautiful face the color had faded forever. We laid her upon her own bed, still robed in the little nightgown, for the long sleep that had closed at last the wakeful eyes. Poor foolish, beautiful little Butterfly, her summer was now forever ended. As I performed for the dead girl the last few loving labors, I acquitted her in my inmost heart of her terrible crime. She had meant only to rest, to forget for a time in sleep the anguish of her cruel disappointment. When from between the great century plants, the yellow edges of their spears shining like avenging swords, passed the hearses--the black one bearing the aged Spanish woman, the white one bearing Mariposilla--I remembered the tragic blooming of the Gold of Ophir rose. I saw again the old veranda illuminated with Easter glory. I saw timid buds open to full roses. Scintillating in the spring sunshine, more lustrous than all, I saw a child-bud burst into a maiden flower. I saw its petals deepen with the kisses of the sun; then I saw them pale and fall to the ground; for the sun had hidden his face. I saw the great-hearted Doña Maria bending wearily, as she attempted to gather the scattered petals. I saw the dark Arturo kneel beside her. Together they seemed to pray; but in the heart of the man was born a horrible curse for those two, now far away. In my misery I saw the Demon of Selfishness, blacker than night, blacker than death. I tried to pray--but I could only weep. THE END.