Juana Valerie, descended from both Mexican and Spanish ancestors, was, with the exception of an old aunt, the last of the family, which, in its day, had been one of much note. Left an orphan at an early age, her only remaining relative—feeble in both mind and body—found it no easy task to bring the fiery, frisky little mortal under any great degree of control. As she grew older her positive nature and keen mind outgeneraled both teachers and aunt. When she chose to spend the livelong day frolicking in the grounds, or clambering trees, instead of poring over dull books, she did so, always being able by means of ready wit and winning ways to escape punishment. However, as the years went on, she contrived to secure a fair share of education, absorbing it, it must be; surely it was not accomplished by hard study. Juana's parents had been staunch Roman Catholics, and while they lived she was trained in the strict observance of the rules of that church. Whether it was that the little maiden was a born rebel, or that from some honest-hearted ancestor she had inherited a hatred of shams, it turned out that at a very early age she began to throw off the shackles the Church of Rome binds about its victims. The Confessional had always been to her childish mind a dread and horror, and as she grew to girlhood she stoutly refused to go to it. The aunt and the old priest scolded and threatened, which had the effect only to drive her from the church entirely. Then they persecuted and warned, holding up to her view the awful fate of an apostate soul. They tried to hedge her in on this side and that, but she shook her willful little head, and leaping over all inclosures, ran free as the wind. No threats or persuasions availing to bring her under control, she was deemed incorrigible, and the anathema of the Church pronounced against her. This did not bring the least shadow upon her spirit, however; a strange intuition seemed to make this young girl aware that truth in its purity was not there, and that a mere man had no power to pronounce either blessing or curse upon her. She was not unloving to her old aunt, nor did she intend to be undutiful, but she did purpose always and everywhere to have her own way; so the feeble old lady settled down to the inevitable, and Juana came and went free as a bird. Hitherto, her flowers and her pets had absorbed her, but now she was awakening to the fact that a whole bright world of pleasure lay all about, beckoning her to its revelries. So she drifted in with the giddy throng, and was flattered and followed and smiled upon to her heart's content.