"Elisa Puyrredon; she is sister to Doña Juana de Saenz-Valiente; some men say that the two sisters and my aunt Josefina are the three most beautiful women in Buenos Aires." "And what do you say?" "I don't know any woman equal in beauty to Elisa Puyrredon." "But we were talking about my uncle," said Magdalen. "I am so proud to have such a man for my uncle. I think a man who has spent his life as he has, has done more that he may be proud of than the greatest conqueror that ever lived. He has always been beaten; but even Napoleon, with all the battles he has won, is not near so great a man in my eyes as my uncle Francisco." As Magdalen spoke her face flushed, her enthusiasm beamed in her large grey eyes, tinging them with a darker colour than was usual to them; and Marcelino, watching her intently, forgot to speak, till meeting his wrapt gaze she bent her head and appeared intent only upon the figures on her fan. "Then you think that a man who devotes himself to the welfare of his country, even if he fail and be proscribed and banished, has not spent his life in vain?" said Marcelino. "In vain, no! Good work is never done in vain." "You will miss Gordon very much." "Indeed I shall, and so will you; but he says he will come back again, and I think he will." Magdalen spoke this last sentence in a peculiarly confidential tone, raising her fan as she spoke, and looking over the edge of it at Marcelino, but the glance and the tone were alike thrown away upon that gentleman. "He promised me long ago," replied he, "that if we have to fight for our freedom he will join us; but now I think we shall win it without fighting, the French are doing that for us. He likes the country so some day we shall have him back again. What will you do without him? You will have no one to read English to you in the porch next summer." "Poor me! but it was very seldom he did read to me last summer. I think he likes galloping about better than reading. Last summer he was always in a hurry to get away, and his gallops were always in one direction." "Yes, the traitor! he was always taking me to the Miserere in the afternoons, and then leaving me to find my way back by myself." "Yet I never saw you angry with him for deserting you." "The time passed so pleasantly that I never missed him till it was time to go back. You cannot think how I am wishing for the long days to come again." "Papa likes the winter best." "Yes, he likes to sit at his fireside while you make tea for him, but we Porteños like the open air better. For me the most pleasant place in any season is where you are." "A compliment! You know that I do not like compliments," answered Magdalen, with a look of annoyance. "I did not intend it as a compliment," said Marcelino. "When men say things like that it sounds to me as if they were mocking one. There are some men who are always doing it, and it is so annoying. You have never said anything like that to me before."