But
in a few moments he observed, with some uneasiness, that they were
talking of the old Spanish occupation, and presently of the old
Spanish families. Would she prematurely expose an ignorance that
might be hereafter remembered against her, or invite some dreadful
genealogical reminiscence that would destroy her hopes and raze her
Spanish castles? Or was she simply collecting information? He
admired the dexterity with which, without committing herself, she
made Don Caesar openly and even confidentially communicative. And
yet he was on thorns; at times it seemed as if he himself were
playing a part in this imposture of Yerba's. He was aware that his
wandering attention was noticed by the quick-witted Dona Anna, when
he regained his self-possession by what appeared to be a happy
diversion. It was the voice of Mrs. Judge Baker calling across the
table to Yerba. By one of the peculiar accidents of general
conversation, it was the one apparently trivial remark that in a
pause challenged the ears of all.
"We were admiring your necklace, Miss Yerba."
Every eye was turned upon the slender throat of the handsome girl.
The excuse was so natural.
Yerba put her hand to her neck with a smile.
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