At  some  involuntary  sound  that  she  made,  the  young  man
—  it  was  Teofilo  —  turned  and  saw  her.  Her  eyes  were  fixed
upon  him,  wide  with  wonder,  and  her  hands  half  raised  in
childlike  rapture,  while  her  slender  figure,  so  different  from
the  heavier  forms  of  the  Indian  girls,  gave  her,  to  his  eyes,  the
look  and  bearing  of  one  of  the  very  angels  he  had  been  copy-
ing. It  was  a  marvel  on  his  side,  too;  and  for  a  few  moments
the  two  regarded  each  other,  while  love  (that  is  born  so  often
of  sudden  wonder  in  innocent  hearts)  awoke  and  stirred  in
both  their  breasts.  They  had  often  met  before,  but  it  had
been  casually,  and  the  hour  had  not  been  ripe.  Now  he  saw
her  and  loved  her;  she  saw  him,  an  Indian,  indeed,  but  trans-
figured, for  he  was  an  Indian  who  worked  wonders.  And  the
Spaniard  in  her  gave  way,  that  moment,  to  the  Indian,  and
she  loved  an  Indian,  as  her  father  had  done.
