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But while remembering that we shall be none the worse tomorrow for having been happy today, we are not permitted to forget entirely the Blue-devil Sprite that awaits the dawn. The play-spell is over; the lights are out in Vanity Fair; and here in Mr. Dulac's drawing is the leader of our Christmas Chorus as he shuts up the box and the puppets—"for our play is played out." However, just before the quitting whistle blew, Bob happened to be near the spot where the Indians were excavating. He took this opportunity to go up to Feather-in-the-Wind who was directing his men. Ostensibly he asked something regarding the work but it was only to give the Indian a chance to convey any message he might have. The Apache did have something to say. Bob laughed, “We get enough to do week days on the dam to get up a pretty good appetite. But I won’t deny that I’ll be ready when the dinner bell rings. We’ve got a Mexican cook where we grub and he’s a lot better on quantity than quality.”.
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It now appeared that the marquis was poisoned by the vengeance of the woman to whom he had resigned his conscience. The consternation and distress of Ferdinand cannot easily be conceived: he hastened back to his father's chamber, but determined to conceal the dreadful catastrophe of Maria de Vellorno. This precaution, however, was useless; for the servants, in the consternation of terror, had revealed it, and the marquis had fainted. There was only one other thing which seemed practicable. Of course it had in it a great element of chance as to his finding out anything of value. But he determined to try it for want of anything better. She revived, but on observing the marquis, screamed and relapsed. He hastened to the castle for assistance, inventing, to conceal his disgrace, some pretence for her sudden illness, and she was conveyed to her chamber. To this speech, in which the offended pride of the Abate overcoming all sense of justice, accused and threatened to punish Julia for the fault of her friend, madame listened in dreadful impatience. Every word that detained her struck torture to her heart, but the concluding sentence occasioned new terror, and she started at its purpose. She fell at the feet of the Abate in an agony of grief. 'Holy father,' said she, 'punish not Julia for the offence which I only have committed; her heart will bless her generous protector, and for myself, suffer me to assure you that I am fully sensible of your goodness.'.
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