Remember the Alamo

by Amelia E. Barr

  CHAPTER XII. DANGER AND HELP.

  "A curious creed they weave, And, for the Church commands it, All men must needs believe, Though no man understands it. God loves his few pet lambs, And saves his one pet nation; The rest he largely damns, With swinging reprobation."

  "The Church may loose and bind; But Mind, immortal Mind, As free as wave or wind, Came forth, O God, from Thee." --BLACKIE.

  Dr. Worth had set his daughter a task of no light magnitude. It wastrue, that Rachela and Fray Ignatius could no longer disturb thehousehold by their actual presence, but their power to cause unhappinesswas not destroyed. Among the Mexican families loyal to Santa Annathe dismission of the priest and the duenna had been a source of muchindignant gossip; for Rachela was one of those women who cry out whenthey are hurt, and compel others to share their trouble. The priest hadnot therefore found it necessary to explain WHY the Senora had calledupon a new confessor. He could be silent, and possess his dignity inuncomplaining patience, for Rachela paraded his wrongs as a kind ofset-off to her own.

  Such piety! Such virtues! And the outrageous conduct of the SenorDoctor! To be sure there was cause for anger at the Senorita Antonia.Oh, yes! She could crow her mind abroad! There were books--Oh, infamousbooks! Books not proper to be read, and the Senorita had them! Wellthen, if the father burned them, that was a good deed done. And he hadalmost been reviled for it--sent out of the house--yes, it was quitepossible that he had been struck! Anything was possible from thoseAmerican heretics. As for her own treatment, after twenty years service,it had been cruel, abominable, more than that--iniquitous; but aboutthese things she had spoken, and the day of atonement would come.Justice was informing itself on the whole matter.

  Such conversations continually diversified, extended, repeated on allhands, quickly aroused a prejudice against the doctor's family. Besideswhich, the Senora Alveda resented bitterly the visits of her son Luis toIsabel. None of the customs of a Mexican betrothal had taken place,and Rachela did not spare her imagination in describing the scandalousAmerican familiarity that had been permitted. That, this familiarity hadtaken place under the eyes of the doctor and the Senora only intensifiedthe insult. She might have forgiven clandestine meetings; but that theformalities due to the Church and herself should have been neglected wasindeed unpardonable.

  It soon became evident to the Senora that she had lost the good-willof her old friends, and the respect that had always been given to hersocial position. It was difficult for her to believe this, and she onlyaccepted the humiliating fact after a variety of those small insultswhich women reserve for their own sex.

  She was fond of visiting; she valued the good opinion of her caste, andin the very chill of the gravest calamities she worried her strengthaway over little grievances lying outside the walls of her home and thereal affections of her life. And perhaps with perfect truth she assertedthat SHE had done nothing to deserve this social ostracism. Others hadmade her miserable, but she could thank the saints none could make herguilty.

  The defeat of Cos had been taken by the loyal inhabitants as a merepreliminary to the real fight. They were very little disturbed by it.It was the overt act which was necessary to convince Mexico that herclemency to Americans was a mistake, and that the ungrateful and impiousrace must be wiped out of existence. The newspapers not only reiteratedthis necessity, but proclaimed its certainty. They heralded the comingof Santa Anna, the victorious avenger, with passionate gasconading.It was a mere question of a few days or weeks, and in the meantimethe people of San Antonio were "making a little profit and pleasure tothemselves out of the extravagant reprobates." There was not a day inwhich they did not anticipate their revenge in local military displays,in dances and illuminations, in bull-fights, and in splendid religiousprocessions.

  And Antonia found it impossible to combat this influence. It was in thehouse as certain flavors were in certain foods, or as heat was infire. She saw it in the faces of her servants, and felt it in theirindifference to their duty. Every hour she watched more anxiouslyfor some messenger from her father. And as day after day went by in ahopeless sameness of grief, she grew more restless under the continualsmall trials that encompassed her.

  Towards the end of January, General Urrea, at the head of the vanguardof the Mexican army, entered Texas. His destination was La Bahia orGoliad, a strong fortress garrisoned by Americans under Colonel Fanning.Santa Anna was to leave in eight days after him. With an army of twentythousand men he was coming to the relief of San Antonio.

  The news filled the city with the wildest rejoicing. The little bellsof the processions, the big bells of the churches, the firing of cannon,the hurrahs of the tumultuous people, made an uproar which reached thethree lonely women through the closed windows of their rooms.

  "If only Lopez Navarro would come! If he would send us some littlemessage! Holy Mary, even he has forgotten us!" cried the Senora in aparoxysm of upbraiding sorrow.

  At that moment the door opened, and Fray Ignatius passed the thresholdwith lifted hands and a muttered blessing. He approached the Senora, andshe fell on her knees and kissed the hand with which he crossed her.

  "Holy father!" she cried, "the angels sent you to a despairing woman."

  "My daughter, I have guided you since your first communion; how thencould I forget you? Your husband has deserted you--you, the helpless,tender lamb, whom he swore to cherish; but the blessed fold of yourchurch stands open. Come, poor weary one, to its shelter."

  "My father--"

  "Listen to me! The Mexican troops are soon to arrive. Vengeance withoutmercy is to be dealt out. You are the wife of an American rebel; Icannot promise you your life, or your honor, if you remain here. Whensoldiers are drunk with blood, and women fall in their way, God havemercy upon them! I would shield even your rebellious daughter Antoniafrom such a fate. I open the doors of the convent to you all. There youwill find safety and peace."

  Isabel sat with white, parted lips and clasped hands, listening. Antoniahad not moved or spoken. But with the last words the priest half-turnedto her, and she came swiftly to her mother's side, and kissing her,whispered:

  "Remember your promise to my father! Oh, mi madre, do not leave Isabeland me alone!"

  "You, too, dear ones! We will all go together, till these dreadful daysare past."

  "No, no, no! Isabel and I will not go. We will die rather."

  "The Senorita talks like a foolish one. Listen again! When Santa Annacomes for judgment, it will be swift and terrible. This house and estatewill be forfeited. The faithful Church may hope righteously to obtainit. The sisters have long needed a good home. The convent will then cometo you. You will have no shelter but the Church. Come to her arms ereher entreaties are turned to commands."

  "My husband told me--"

  "Saints of God! you have no husband. He has forfeited every right toadvise you. Consider that, daughter; and if you trust not my advice,there is yet living your honorable uncle, the Marquis de Gonzaga."

  Antonia caught eagerly at this suggestion. It at least offered somedelay, in which the Senora might be strengthened to resist the coercionof Fray Ignatius.

  "Mother, it is a good thought. My great-uncle will tell you what to do;and my father will not blame you for following his advice. Perhaps evenhe may offer his home. You are the child of his sister."

  Fray Ignatius walked towards the fire-place and stood rubbing slowly hislong, thin hands before the blaze, while the Senora and her daughtersdiscussed this proposal. The half-frantic mother was little inclinedto make any further effort to resist the determined will of her oldconfessor; but the tears of Isabel won from her a promise to see heruncle.

  "Then, my daughter, lose no time. I cannot promise you many days inwhich choice will be left you. Go this afternoon, and to-morrow I willcall for your decision."

  It was not a visit that the Senora liked to make. She had deeplyoffended her
uncle by her marriage, and their intercourse had since beenof the most ceremonious and infrequent kind. But surely, at this hour,when she was left without any one to advise her steps, he would rememberthe tie of blood between them.

  He received her with more kindness than she had anticipated. His eyesglittered in their deep sockets when she related her extremity and thepriest's proposal, and his small shrunken body quivered with excitementas he answered:

  "Saints and angels! Fray Ignatius is right about Santa Anna. We shallsee that he will make caps for his soldiers out of the skins of theseinfidel ingrates. But as for going into the convent, I know not. Amiserable marriage you made for yourself, Maria. Pardon, if I say somuch! I let the word slip always. I was never one to bite my tongue. Iam all old man--very well, come here, you and your daughters, till thedays of blood are over. There is room in the house, and a few comfortsin it also. I have some power with Santa Anna. He is a great man--agreat man! In all his wars, good fortune flies before him."

  He kissed her hands as he opened the door, and then went back to thefire, and bent, muttering, over it: "Giver of good! a true Yturbide; agentle woman; she is like my sister Mercedes--very like her. These poorwomen who trust me, as I am a sinner before God, I am unhappy to deceivethem."

  Fray Ignatius might have divined his thoughts, for he entered at themoment, and said as he approached him:

  "You have done right. The soul must be saved, if all is lost. This isnot a time for the friends of the Church and of Mexico to waver. TheChurch is insulted every day by these foreign heretics--"

  "But you are mistaken, father; the Church holds up her head, whateverhappens. Even the vice-regal crown is not lost--the Church has cleft itinto mitres."

  Fray Ignatius smiled, but there was a curious and crafty look of inquiryon his face. "The city is turbulent, Marquis, and there is undoubtedly agreat number of Mexicans opposed to Santa Anna."

  "Do you not know Mexicans yet? They would be opposed to God Almighty,rather than confess they were well governed. Bah! the genius of Mexicois mutiny. They scarcely want a leader to move their madness. They rebelon any weak pretence. They bluster when they are courted; they crouchwhen they are oppressed. They are fools to all the world but themselves.I beg the Almighty to consider in my favor, that some over-hasty angelmisplaced my lot. I should have been born in--New York."

  The priest knew that he was talking for irritation, but he was toopolitic to favor the mood. He stood on the hearth with his hands foldedbehind him, and with a delightful suavity turned the conversation uponthe country rather than the people. It was a glorious day in the dawnof spring. The tenderest greens, the softest blues, the freshest scents,the clearest air, the most delightful sunshine were everywhere. Thewhite old town, with its picturesque crowds, its murmur of voices andlaughter, its echoes of fife and drum, its loves and its hatreds, was athis feet; and, far off, the hazy glory of the mountains, the greennessand freshness of Paradise, the peace and freedom of the vast, unplantedplaces. The old marquis was insensibly led to contemplate the whole;and, in so doing, to put uppermost that pride of country which was thebase of every feeling susceptible to the priest's influence.

  "Such a pleasant city, Marquis! Spanish monks founded it. Spanishand Mexican soldiers have defended it. Look at its fine churches andmissions; its lovely homes, and blooming gardens."

  "It is also all our own, father. It was but yesterday I said to one ofthose insolent Americans who was condescending to admire it: 'Very good,Senor; and, if you deign to believe me, it was not brought from NewYork. Such as you see it, it was made by ourselves here at San Antonio.'Saints in heaven! the fellow laughed in my face. We were mutuallyconvinced of each other's stupidity."

  "Ah, how they envy us the country! And you, Marquis, who have traveledover the world, you can imagine the reason?"

  "Father, I will tell you the reason; it is the craving in the heart tofind again the lost Eden. The Almighty made Texas with full hands. WhenHe sets his heart on a man, he is permitted to live there."

  "Grace of God! You speak the truth. Shall we then give up the gift ofHis hand to heretics and infidels?"

  "I cannot imagine it."

  "Then every one must do the work he can do. Some are to slay theunbelievers; others; are to preserve the children of the Church. Yourniece and her two daughters will be lost to the faith, unless youinterfere for their salvation. Of you will their souls be required."

  "By Saint Joseph, it is a duty not in agreement with my desire! I, whohave carefully abstained from the charge of a wife and daughters of myown."

  "It is but for a day or two, Marquis, until the matter is arranged. Theconvent is the best of all refuges for women so desolate."

  The marquis did not answer. He lifted a book and began to read; and FrayIgnatius watched him furtively.

  In the mean time the Senora had reached her home. She was pleased withthe result of her visit. A little kindness easily imposed upon thischildlike woman, and she trusted in any one who was pleasant to her.

  "You may believe me, Antonia," she said; "my uncle was in a temper mostunusual. He kissed my hands. He offered me his protection. That is agreat thing, I assure you. And your father cannot object to our removalthere."

  Antonia knew not what answer to make. Her heart misgave her. Whyhad Fray Ignatius made the proposal? She was sure it was part of anarrangement, and not a spontaneous suggestion of the moment. And she wasequally sure that any preconcerted plan, having Fray Ignatius for itsauthor, must be inimical to them.

  Her mother's entry had not awakened Isabel, who lay asleep upon a sofa.The Senora was a little nettled at the circumstance. "She is a verychild! A visit of such importance! And she is off to the land ofdreams while I am fatiguing myself! I wish indeed that she had moreconsideration!" Then Antonia brought her chocolate, and, as she drankit and smoked her cigarito, she chatted in an almost eager way about thepersons she had seen.

  "Going towards the Plaza, I met judge Valdez. I stopped the carriage,and sent my affections to the Senora. Would you believe it? He answeredme as if his mouth were full of snow. His disagreeable behavior wasexactly copied by the Senora Silvestre and her daughter Esperanza. DonaJulia and Pilar de Calval did not even perceive me. Santa Maria! thereare none so blind as those who won't see! Oh, indeed! I found thejourney like the way of salvation--full of humiliations. I would havestopped at the store of the Jew Lavenburg, and ordered many things, buthe turned in when he saw me coming. Once, indeed, he would have put hishat on the pavement for me to tread upon. But he has heard that yourfather has made a rebel of himself, and what can be expected? He knowswhen Santa Anna has done with the rebels not one of them will haveanything left for God to rain upon. And there was a great crowd and agreat tumult. I think the whole city had a brain fever."

  At this moment Isabel began to moan in her sleep as if her soul was insome intolerable terror or grief; and ere Antonia could reach her shesprang into the middle of the room with a shriek that rang through thehouse.

  It was some minutes before the child could be soothed. She lay in hermother's arms, sobbing in speechless distress; but at length she wasable to articulate her fright:

  "Listen, mi madre, and may the Holy Lady make you believe me! I have hada dream. God be blessed that it is not yet true! I will tell you. It wasabout Fray Ignatius and our uncle the Marquis de Gonzaga. My good angelgave it to me; for myself and you all she gave it; and, as my blessedLord lives! I will not go to them! SI! I will cut my white throatfirst!" and she drew her small hand with a passionate gesture acrossit. She had stood up as she began to speak, and the action, added toher unmistakable terror, her stricken face and air of determination, wasvery impressive.

  "You have had a dream, my darling?"

  "Yes, an awful dream, Antonia! Mary! Mary! Tender Mary, pity us!"

  "And you think we should not go to the house of the marquis?"

  "Oh, Antonia! I have seen the way. It is black and cold, and full offear and pain. No one shall make me take it. I have the stiletto o
f mygrandmother Flores. I will ask Holy Mary to pardon me, and then--in amoment--I would be among the people of the other world. That would befar better than Fray Ignatius and the house of Gonzaga."

  The Senora was quite angry at this fresh complication. It was reallyincredible what she had to endure. And would Antonia please to tellher where else they were to go? They had not a friend left in SanAntonio--they did not deserve to have one--and was it to be supposedthat a lady, born noble, could follow the Americans in an ox-wagon?Antonia might think it preferable to the comfortable house of herrelation; but blessed be the hand of God, which had opened the door of arespectable shelter to her.

  "I will go in the ox-wagon," said Isabel, with a sullen determination;"but I will not go into my uncle's house. By the saint of my birth Iswear it."

  "Mother, listen to Antonia. When one door shuts, God opens another door.Our own home is yet undisturbed. Do you believe what Fray Ignatius saysof the coming of Santa Anna? I do not. Until he arrives we are safe inour own home; and when the hour for going away comes, even a little birdcan show us the way to take. And I am certain that my father is planningfor our safety. If Santa Anna was in this city, and behaving with thebrutality which is natural to him, I would not go away until my fathersent the order. Do you think he forgets us? Be not afraid of such athing. It cannot take place."

  Towards dusk Senor Navarro called, and the Senora brought him into herprivate parlor and confided to him the strait they were in. He lookedwith sympathy into the troubled, tear-stained faces of these threehelpless women, and listened with many expressive gestures to theproposal of the priest and the offer of the old marquis.

  "Most excellent ladies," he answered; "it is a plot. I assure you thatit is a plot. Certainly it was not without reason I was so unhappy aboutyou this afternoon. Even while I was at the bull-fight, I think ourangels were in a consultation about your affairs. Your name was in myears above all other sounds."

  "You say it is a plot, Senor. Explain to us what you mean?"

  "Yes, I will tell you. Do you know that Fray Ignatius is the confessorof the marquis?"

  "We had not thought of such a thing."

  "It is the truth. For many years they have been close as the skin andthe flesh. Without Fray Ignatius the marquis says neither yes or no.Also the will of the marquis has been lately made. I have seen a copy ofit. Everything he has is left to the brotherhoods of the Church. Withoutdoubt, Fray Ignatius was the, lawyer who wrote it."

  "Senor, I always believed that would happen. At my marriage my unclemade the determination. Indeed, we have never expected a piastre--no,not even a tlaco. And to-day he was kind to me, and offered me his home.Oh, Holy Mother, how wretched I am! Can I not trust in the good words ofthose who are of my own family?"

  "The tie of race will come before the tie of the family. The tie ofreligion is strongest of all, Senora. Let me tell you what will takeplace. When you and your children are in the house of the marquis,he will go before the Alcalde. He will declare that you have gonevoluntarily to his care, and that he is your nearest and most naturalguardian. Very well. But further, he will declare, on account of hisgreat age, and the troubled state of the time, he is unable to protectyou, and ask for the authority to place you in the religious care of theholy sisterhood of Saint Maria. And he will obtain all he wants."

  "But, simply, what is to be gained by such treachery? He said to-daythat I was like his sister Mercedes, and he spoke very gently to me."

  "He would not think such a proceeding really unkind. He would assurehimself that it was good for your eternal salvation. As to the reason,that is to be looked for in the purse, where all reasons come from. Thishouse, which the good doctor built, is the best in the city. It has eventwo full stories. It is very suitable for a religious house. It is notfar from the Plaza, yet secluded in its beautiful garden. Fray Ignatiushas long desired it. When he has removed you, possession will be taken,and Santa Anna will confirm the possession."

  "God succor our poor souls! What shall we do then, Senor? The Mexicanarmy has entered Texas, it will soon be here."

  "Quien sabe? Between the Rio Grande and the San Antonio are manydifficulties. Urrea has five thousand men with him, horses andartillery. The horses must graze, the men must rest and eat. We shallhave heavy rains. I am sure that it will be twenty days ere he reachesthe settlements; and even then his destination is not San Antonio, it isGoliad. Santa Anna will be at least ten days after him. I suppose, then,that for a whole month you are quite safe in your own home. That is whatI believe now. If I saw a reason to believe what is different, I wouldinform you. The good doctor, to whom I owe my life many times, has mypromise. Lopez Navarro never broke his word to any man. The infamy wouldbe a thing impossible, where the safety of three ladies is concerned."

  "And in a month, mi madre, what great things may happen! Thirty days ofpossibilities! Come, now, let us be a little happy, and listen to whatthe Senor has to tell us. I am sure this house has been as stupid as aconvent"; and Isabel lifted the cigarette case of the Senora, and withkisses persuaded her to accept its tranquilizing consolation.

  It was an elegant little golden trifle studded with gems. Her husbandhad given it to her on the anniversary of their twenty-fifth weddingday; and it recalled vividly to her the few sweet moments. She wasswayed as easily as a child by the nearest or strongest influence, and,after all, it did seem the best to take Isabel's advice, and be a littlehappy while she could.

  Lopez was delighted to humor this mood. He told them all the news oftheir own social set; and in such vivid times something happenedevery day. There had been betrothals and marriages, quarrels andentertainments; and Lopez, as a fashionable young man of wealth andnobility, had taken his share in what had transpired.

  Antonia felt unspeakably grateful to him. After the fretful terrorand anxiety of the day--after the cruel visit of Fray Ignatius--it wasindeed a comfort to hear the pleasant voice of Navarro in all kinds ofcheerful modulations. By and by there was a slow rippling laugh fromIsabel, and the Senora's face lost its air of dismal distraction.

  At length Navarro had brought his narrative of small events down tothe afternoon of that day. There had been a bull-fight, and Isabel wasmaking him describe to her the chulos, in their pale satin breechesand silk waist-scarfs; the toreros in their scarlet mantles, and thepicadores on their horses.

  "And I assure you," he said, "the company of ladies was very great andsplendid. They were in full dress, and the golden-pinned mantillas andthe sea of waving fans were a sight indeed. Oh, the fans alone! So manycolors; great crescents, growing and waning with far more enchantmentsthan the moons. Their rustle and movement has a wonderful charm,Senorita Isabel; no one can imagine it.

  "Oh, I assure you, Senor, I can see and feel it. But to be there! That,indeed, would make me perfectly happy."

  "Had you been there to-day you would have admired, above all things,the feat of the matadore Jarocho. It was upon the great bull Sandoval--avery monster, I assure you. He came bellowing at Jarocho, as if he meanthis instant death. His eyeballs were living fire; his nostrils steamedwith fury; well, then, at the precise moment, Jarocho put his slipperedfeet between his horns, and vaulted, light as a bird flies, over hisback. Then Sandoval turned to him again. Well, he calmly waited for hisapproach, and his long sword met him between the horns. As lightly asa lady touches her cavalier, he seemed to touch Sandoval; but the brutefell like a stone at his feet. What a storm of vivas! What clapping ofhands and shouts of 'valiente!' And the ladies flung their flowers, andthe men flung their hats into the arena, and Jarocho stepped proudlyenough on them, I can tell you, though he was watching the door for thenext bull."

  "Ah, Senor, why will men fight each other, when it is so much more grandand interesting to fight bulls?"

  "Senorita Isabel, if you could only convince them of that! But then, itis not always interesting to the matadore; for instance, it is only bythe mercy of God and the skill of an Americano that Jarocho is at thismoment out of purgatory."

  T
he Senora raised herself from among the satin pillows of her sofa,and asked, excitedly; "Was there then some accident, Senor? Is Jarochowounded? Poor Jarocho!"

  "Not a hair of his head is hurt, Senora. I will tell you. Saint Jago,who followed Sandoval, was a little devil. He was light and quick, andhad intelligence. You could see by the gleam in his eyes that he took inthe whole scene, and considered not only the people in the ring, but thepeople in the amphitheatre also, to be his tormentors. Perhaps in thatreflection he was not mistaken. He meant mischief from the beginning;and he pressed Jarocho so close that he leaped the barrier for safety.As he leaped, Saint Jago leaped also. Imagine now the terror of thespectators! The screams! The rush! The lowered horns within an inch ofJarocho, and Fray Joseph Maria running with the consecrated wafer tothe doomed man! At that precise moment there was a rifle-shot, and thebellowing brute rolled backward into the arena--dead."

  "Oh, Maria Purissima! How grand! In such moments one really lives,Senor. And but for this absurd rebellion I and my daughters could havehad the emotion. It is indeed cruel."

  "You said the shot was fired by an American?"

  "Senorita Antonia, it was, indeed. I saw him. He was in the last row.He had stood up when Saint Jago came in, and he was watching the man andthe animal with his soul in his eyes. He had a face, fine and thin asa woman's--a very gentle face, also. But at one instant it became sternand fierce, the lips hard set, the eyes half shut, then the rifle atthe shoulder like a flash of light, and the bull was dead between thebeginning and the end of the leap! The sight was wonderful, and theladies turned to him with smiles and cries of thankfulness, and thebetter part of the men bowed to him; for the Mexican gentleman is alwaysjust to a great deed. But he went away as if he had done something thatdispleased himself, and when I overtook him at the gates of the Alamo,he did not look as if he wished to talk about it.

  "However, I could not refrain myself, and I said: 'Permit me, ColonelCrockett, to honor you. The great feat of to-day's fight was yours. SanAntonio owes you for her favorite Jarocho.'"

  "'I saved a life, young man,' he answered and I took a life; and I'll beblamed if I know whether I did right or wrong.' 'Jarocho would have beenkilled but for your shot.' 'That's so; and I killed the bull; but youcan take my hat if I don't think I killed the tallest brute of the two.Adjourn the subject, sir'; and with that he walked off into the fort,and I did myself the pleasure of coming to see you, Senora."

  He rose and bowed to the ladies, and, as the Senora was making somepolite answer, the door of the room opened quickly, and a man enteredand advanced towards her. Every eye was turned on him, but ere a wordcould be uttered he was kneeling at the Senora's side, and had taken herface in his hands, and was kissing it. In the dim light she knew him atonce, and she cried out: "My Thomas! My Thomas! My dear son! For threeyears I have not seen you."

  He brought into the room with him an atmosphere of comfort and strength.Suddenly all fear and anxiety was lifted, and in Antonia's heart thereaction was so great that she sank into a chair and began to cry like achild. Her brother held her in his arms and soothed her with the promiseof his presence and help. Then he said, cheerfully:

  "Let me have some supper, Antonia. I am as hungry as a lobos wolf; andrun away, Isabel, and help your sister, for I declare to you girls Ishall eat everything in the house."

  The homely duty was precisely what was needed to bring every one'sfeelings to their normal condition; and Thomas Worth sat chatting withhis mother and Lopez of his father, and Jack, and Dare, and Luis, andthe superficial events of the time, with that pleasant, matter-of-coursemanner which is by far the most effectual soother of troubled andunusual conditions.

  In less than half an hour Antonia called her brother, and he and Lopezentered the dining-room together. They came in as brothers might come,face answering face with sympathetic change and swiftness; but Antoniacould not but notice the difference in the two men. Lopez was dressed ina suit of black velvet, trimmed with many small silver buttons. His sashwas of crimson silk. His linen was richly embroidered; and his wide hatwas almost covered with black velvet, and adorned with silver tags. Itwas a dress that set off admirably his dark intelligent face.

  Thomas Worth wore the usual frontier costume; a dark flannel shirt, awide leather belt, buck-skin breeches, and leather boots covering hisknees. He was very like his father in figure and face--darker, perhaps,and less handsome. But the gentleness and strength of his personalappearance attracted every one first, and invested all traits with theirown distinctive charm.

  And, oh! What a change was there in the the{sic} Senora's room. Thepoor lady cried a little for joy, and then went to sleep like a weariedchild. Isabel and Antonia were too happy to sleep. They sat half throughthe night, talking softly of the danger they had been in. Now thatThomas had come, they could say HAD. For he was a very Great-heartto them, and they could even contemplate the expected visit ofFray Ignatius without fear; yes, indeed, with something very likesatisfaction.