THE BEAUTIFUL EYES OF YSIDRIA

by

CHARLES A. GUNNISON. 

Press of Commercial Publishing Co. 34 California St. , S. F. 

 To----

 _Madame Emma Baudouin of Luebeck, this little story of Californian life is given in token of her unmerited kindness to the writer, and in admiration of one who makes the world happier by her every word and act. _

 _CHARLES A. GUNNISON, Xmas, 1894. In the Embarcadero, Palo Alto, Santa Clara, California_

The Beautiful Eyes of Ysidria. 

I. 

Have you seen the magnificent slope of our beloved Tamalpais, as itcurves from the changing colour of the bay, till touching the fleecy fogrolling in from the Pacific, it passes from day to rest? If you havenot, I hope you may, for the sooner you have this glorious picture onyour memory's walls, the brighter will be your future, and you will havea bit of beauty which need not be forgotten even in heaven itself. 

There is one who, though passing his life beneath its shadow, enjoyingthe scented wind from its forests and the music of its birds andwaterfalls and sighing madroņos, does not see it, yet calls it his God, and believes it to be the Giver of all good, as we who have never seenour God feel that One who bestows blessings so bountiful must bebeautiful beyond words. 

Many walks, miles in extent, have my Quito and I taken. I say my Quito, for he is my son, my only son; and beneath the thick shade of laurels, beside the roadside troughs, we have rested and spoken, he to me of theunheard, I to him of the unseen. 

Come back with me to the days of my youth, those merry days ofCalifornia before the gold was about her dear form like prisoner'schains; before the greed of the States and England had forced us intothe weary drudgery of the earth, and made us the slaves of misbegottenprogress. 

We had our church then and dear old Padre Andreas at San Anselmo, and, my dear friends from the States, we also had cockles from Tomales, whichwere eaten with relish on the beach at Sausalito, just where George theGreek's is now, though then there was only a little hut kept by a manwhom we called Victor--and we had feasts and fasts so well arranged, that dyspepsia was unknown. 

One day when I had been on a long tramp through the woods, gatheringmushrooms, I came home tired and hungry, and found our old housekeeper, Catalina, smiling complacently, as she sat on the stepping block by thekitchen door, rolling tamales for supper. "Oh! Master Carlos, " shecried, "we have had much to worry us to-day. Look at those poor, littleducks all dead and the mother hen also. "

"Who killed them, Catalina?" I asked in astonishment, as I saw my petbrood of ducks and their over careful mother lying dead in the grass. 

"I did, " she replied, "and it was time that something was done. MadreMoreno has been busy again. The cows gave bloody milk last Friday, andto-day, while I was sorting some herbs, the hen and her brood began toact mysteriously, to tumble about as Victor might, after too much wine. All at once I saw the cause, Madre Moreno had bewitched them, and inthree minutes I had cut all their throats and have given the wickedwoman a lesson. "

"Catalina! Catalina!" I cried, "how can you be so cruel andsuperstitious?" Her face lighted up with supreme contempt for me, butshe said nothing more. On the ground about her were bits of leaves whichI recognized as nightshade and henbane, which could well account for theactions of the late hen and ducklings. 

"What are these?" I asked. 

"Little Pablo brought them for dinner; he thought they were mustard, butthey were not, so I threw them away. "

"Poor ducks and poor Catalina, " was all that I could say, and wentlaughing into the house, while she muttered to herself about theignorance of the new generation. 

My home was, and is a beautiful one, low and long, with all the roomsopening on the broad veranda; it is part of adobe and part of wood, thesides being covered with a network of fuchsia, heliotrope and jasminereaching to the eaves of the brown tile roof; a broad, branching figtree is in the little court before it, and a clump of yuccas and fanpalms to the right, while down to the road and along the front stretchesa broken hedge of Castilian roses, which we Californians love as thegift of old Spain, our first good nurse, we must always have a nurse itseems, England, Spain, Mexico and our present, very dry one--but let usbe content, our majority will come. There is a pretty stream from themountains, brought through hollow logs, and two good wells to water theplace, which is green in the hottest summer when all the hills andmeadows are yellow and brown from drought; before it rise slopes ofmanzanita, and higher hills covered with redwoods, and then the sharplycut peak of Tamalpais, from which on clear days we not only may see thegood St. Helena, but alas, as in all the world, Diablo, himself, is inview, black and barren, though we do sometimes call him San Diablo, asthe old Greeks did the Eumenides, in propitiatory compliment. 

Madre Moreno was indeed a strange woman, and feared by the countrypeople, before whom she lost no opportunity of playing her role ofwitch, and she was known by all for her remarkable skill in extractingthe virtues of herbs, and brewing such efficacious drinks that evenPedirpozzo, the famous physician of the Alameda side, had been willingto consult with her. 

I was about twenty years old at this time and had but recently returnedfrom the City of Mexico, where I had been graduated in the law, havingalso made a thorough study of botany, and was happily and lucrativelyemployed in collecting specimens of the Californian flora for the oldcollege, as well as for one in the States, and two in Europe. Thispleasurable employment gave me an income, more than supplying the fewwants of the primitive life at the little rancho, the herds of whichwere alone a good source of revenue. 

Just beyond my home, to the west, over the first hill, was a ruinedadobe, surrounded by a great number of fig and olive trees; there hadnever been any windows in the house, but the arches for the doors werestill standing, where ivy, poison oak and wild honey-suckle hung inprofusion; the cellar, which was quite filled with stones, was overgrownwith Solomon's seal, eschscholtzia and yerba santa, while a white roseand a shapeless clump of half wild artichokes grew where the garden hadonce been, also many flowers, hardly distinguishable from the weeds, having lost all they had ever gained by cultivation; a winding bed ofranunculus, or little frog, as Linnaeus wittily calls these waterlovers, marked the course of a narrow stream which had long ago brokenaway from its former wooden trough. Among the stones and decaying beamswere enormous bushes of nightshade, which seemed to poison the plantsabout them, all of which had a sickly green wherever they grew under itsshadow. 

This place, with its surrounding acres, was my property, and had beenbefore the fire which had destroyed the adobe house, one of theprettiest spots in the country. 

There had long been a spirited contest between my grandfather and thefather of Madre Moreno over this bit of property, a strife which hadcaused much bad feeling in both families, and when it was at lastsettled in favour of our side, old Juan Moreno lost all control of hisfeelings, and in a fit of anger dropped dead at the very door of thecourt. Though the anger and chagrin at the loss of his case hastened hisdeath, he had always been subject to a trouble of the heart which wasliable to prove fatal at any moment under undue excitement. AmbrosiaMoreno, who was called Madre, when she grew older, held our family toblame for this affliction, and made a vow that every generation of theSotos should suffer through this plot of ground as long as she lived. 

This curse was first felt in the time of Ignacio de Soto, mygrandfather, when the fig trees failed to put forth fruit and the oliveswere all blighted. By this, Ambrosia Moreno established her reputationin the country as a witch, and was never omitted from a christening orwedding or from any auspicious event where her ill will might, in anypossible way, cause misfortune. 

In time Madre Moreno grew proud of this distinction awarded to her, dressing and acting so as to lead the people to believe her to havesupernatural assistance, and when in the time of the next generation, the night of the marriage of my father with Neves Arguello, (to whichcelebration Madre Moreno was uninvited), the adobe house in the grove offigs, which had stood untenanted for years, was burned to the ground, her reputation as a witch was firmly established throughout the country;many a good woman after that event, when the wind carried off theclothes drying on the hedges, or the soot fell down the chimney into thekitchen at night, knew that the Madre was about, playing her mischievouspranks. 

One day Mercedes Dana, a girl whom we rather felt sorry for, (hermother, who was a de los Santos, having married an American fromBoston), having less faith in Madre Moreno's power than the rest of herneighbours had tried that never-failing test for witchcraft, and placeda piece of steel under the chair where the Madre was sitting, but she, too, was at once converted from her skepticism, for when the Madrewanted to leave she was unable to move until the bit of steel was takenaway. 

It was considered a dangerous experiment, and even Mercedes' littlespark of Yankee "devil-may-care" burned very low after it, although theonly thing that went wrong at the Dana's that year was that the henslaid soft-shelled eggs, which trouble was soon remedied by mixing apowder with their feed, which powder Madre Moreno herself supplied, andI strongly suspect that it was made of burned cockle shells. 

Madre Moreno dressed peculiarly; she wore when I first remember her, ashort black skirt and waist; a little cape of red woolen cloth hung overher shoulders, about her neck was a white ruff which set off her peakedface and made it look even more withered and yellow; her hair was short, and over a silk skull cap was drawn a black reboso, the ends of whichwere embroidered in colour with odd designs. Her whole person was theperfection of neatness, and she was welcome from Bolinas to San Rafaelfor the good she did, as her knowledge of herb and even mineralmedicines was extensive. 

At my christening it was thought that the curse would be removed, asMadre Moreno was invited to the ceremonies, and from that time was aconstant visitor at the rancho for some years, always received with awelcome, mingled, perhaps, with a little fear, by all save Catalina, who, despite her dread of the queer woman, never could conceal herhatred for her, and when the sudden death of my father was closelyfollowed by that of my mother, she forbade Madre Moreno the house. Tothis I could say nothing, as I have always a reverence for the woman whorules at home, and Catalina now was my housekeeper, in charge of broomand wash tub, and grand almoner of my dinners and luncheons. 

II. 

Madre Moreno never came again to my house, but always seemed to take aninterest in me, who, when I reached an age when I could be trusted awayfrom the garden, would wander with her through the woods while she wasgathering her herbs, and from her I learned much that was of greatbenefit to me in after years. After my return from Mexico, we greeted infriendly manner, and she seemed to take great pleasure in my company. 

I never approached the ruin without a strange foreboding of somethingterrible about to happen, which always disappeared after I had beenthere a while and the charming beauty of the quiet spot had turned mythoughts into pleasanter channels; perhaps the feeling of fear wasattributable to the stories I had heard during childhood, and had neveroutgrown. 

One day I saw Madre Moreno's red cloak showing out brightly from behindthe rank growths of nightshade, the tenderer leaves of which she seemedto be carefully gathering. She was muttering to herself wordsunintelligible to me, and did not seem to notice me, although I stoodfor a long time very near where she was at work. 

"Good morning, Madre; you are very busy to-day, " I said, after a while. She looked up, nodding in a friendly way, but not answering, while shecontinued her jargon as she carefully laid in the basket theoval-shaped, pointed leaves. As I drew nearer I noticed for the firsttime that it was not the common nightshade, which grew wild about thecountry, but was the atropa, a plant not indigenous to California. Itwas in flower; the bell-shaped blossoms, of a dead, violet-brown colour, with the green leaves about them, made a disagreeable combination seldomseen in any of nature's pictures. 

When she had completely filled her basket she turned to me and spoke: "Iam glad to see thee, Carlos, for it has been long since we have met, andI began to think that thou hadst forgotten thy old friend, or, perhaps, hadst learned all about flowers and herbs, so that she could teach theeno more. "

"No, Madre; I shall never know so much about them as you do. I can learntheir names and values only, while you put them all to so many gooduses, " I answered. "What do you do with the leaves you have justgathered? They are very poisonous, and you should wash your hands wellafter touching them, and especially after getting the juice on yourfingers!"

"But thou knowest poison makes little difference with one like me, whohath a charmed life, " replied Madre Moreno, as she handed me the basketto carry while she nimbly stepped from stone to stone and climbed out ofthe hollow, here and there startling a snake or lizard that lay in thesunshine. 

"It is well done!" she abruptly said, and looking at me, burst into afit of laughter which was so spontaneous and hearty that I joined withher, though I knew not at what I was laughing. My own laugh soundedstrangely, however, and seemed to me to echo with another tone from thevine-covered walls as if some one were there, and like Madre Moreno, were also laughing at me. I stopped suddenly, and I felt my face changecolour, and the same awe which I so often felt when about the ruinedhouse came upon me with a force I had never known before; I trembled asI stood there beside this strange woman, who laughed louder and louder, striking her little hands together in seeming ecstacy, while the soundsechoed and re-echoed among the fig trees and heaps of stones, yetseeming all the time less like echoes than like the voices ofinnumerable, invisible creatures darting everywhere about the grove. Theplace grew darker, for clouds just then obscured the sun and covered thehills beyond Tamalpais. Madre Moreno came nearer to me and touched myforehead. . . . . . . . . Suddenly the sun shown bright as ever upon thefig and olive trees and gleamed from thousands of silver drops hangingfrom every leaf; the snakes and lizards lay quietly upon the steamingrocks and half burnt beams, while the rank vegetation sent forth a sweetscent of green life. 

"Why do you laugh at me, Madre?" I asked. 

"Only, Carlos, " she answered, "because it is so odd to see thee carryingthe old witch's basket with all the charms and thou knowing nothingabout it all; oh it is very odd!" and the Madre laughed again. "Thestorm has gone over, " she continued, "I feared it would last long, butwinter is almost gone, and it passed without much rain falling here. "

"What storm?" I asked. 

"The storm which has just passed, hast thou not noted it?"

"I saw no storm, you must be dreaming Madre, or trying some of yourspells upon me. There has been no storm for the sun has been shiningbrightly, except when that cloud passed for a moment, " I answered as Ihanded her the basket. 

"Whence came the drops of water which lie upon the leaves, Seņor Carlos, if not from the clouds which thou canst still see passing over the hillstoward San Anselmo? Thou knowest not all the power Ambrosia Moreno, thylittle madre, hath. So thou hast held the basket with the flat greenleaves. "

"Oh! Madre Moreno, I can never understand you, but you must be carefulof the leaves you have just gathered, for they contain a most powerfulpoison. I am more afraid, since the plant is rare or even unknown in theCalifornias, that you do not know its power; you surely can never havefound it before, and how it came to be growing here is incomprehensibleto me. "

The witch bent her head and looking into my face from under heroverhanging reboso, raised her finger and shook it before me saying asshe did so, "Thou art a learned seņorito, Carlos Sotos, but althoughAmbrosia Moreno hath never been in the college, she knows more of thelittle flowers and bright leaves of this plant thou speakest of than allthe Jesuits or thy people shall ever learn. The very plant growing hereamong these fallen stones is as old as thou art, Carlos Sotos, and thatalmost to a year. It has ever grown on, season after season, and shalllive until its duty is performed, then let it wither when it shall nolonger be needed here. Thou must come down and see me, Carlos, " shecontinued in an altered voice, "for I have some new flowers which thoushalt have; come for I am lonely and like young company, though I be awitch as they say. Where goest thou to-day?"

"Above on the divide where I hope to find some of the Indian pinks formy new collection. "

"When doest thou return, before sundown?" asked Madre Moreno as sheprepared to go. 

"Before that, surely, " I answered, "I shall be back here at the ruin byfour o'clock, though I had no idea that the time had gone so fast, it isalmost noon; I must hurry or I shall have Catalina very hot waiting witha cold supper. By the way Madre, she sent her best respects to you andhopes that you will not bewitch any more of her poultry, for if you do, they will be a headless lot in a short time. "

Madre Moreno nodded knowingly, and closed one eye slyly as she answered, "Thou art the cleverest seņorito in these parts, but little as thoubelievest in my influence with el bueno Diablo, as the old women callhim, I could disclose to thee many strange events which shall come afterthis day, and from this meeting thou shall date thy future. " She startedbut turned and said, "My son, I have learned to love thee, yet I have aduty beyond love; say that thou believest that my sainted father wasunjustly treated, and thy life shall be blessed. "

"I cannot, Madre Moreno, I am sorry for the sad result of the case atcourt, but as you know, it was only justice. "

She said no more, but with a laugh, half broken by a sigh, the littlewoman walked briskly under the olives and down over the brow of thehill. 

The grass and trees were all wet, the great laurels by the path shown asif varnished, the huge madroņo leaves each held a jewel on its tip; allevidences of a heavy rain were about me, yet I had not been aware of itfalling. In a short time I was deep in the redwood forest, away from theworld in companionship with God. 

III. 

It was nearly five o'clock when I approached the ruin on my return; thesun was now low enough to throw long shadows over the place, and made aneffect of gloom which formed a good setting for the wall, with its greendrapery standing out shining and warm in a glorious flood of goldensunshine. 

As I sat down to enjoy the picture, I became aware of some one walkingbehind the great clumps of nightshade, and presently a young womanstepped from behind the atropa where Madre Moreno had that morning beenpicking the poisonous leaves, and walked across the hollow, steppinggracefully from stone to stone till she came to the bright spot wherethe sun was shining, and seating herself at the foot of the wall, openeda book and began to read aloud. Beautiful as the scene had been before, it was now enhanced, and I did not stir, lest I should dispel the lovelyvision. 

For fully half an hour I must have remained there before she becameaware of my presence; when she saw me, she started a little, butregaining her composure quickly, closed her book, and rose to leave theplace. In crossing the hollow she stumbled and fell, uttering a sharpcry of pain; I ran immediately to her assistance. Supporting thefainting girl, I helped, or rather carried, her to the bank where I hadbeen sitting. By the time I reached the place, she had recoveredconsciousness, and in answer to my inquiry said that her ankle had beensprained by the fall, and that the pain was severe. As she spoke thetears came to her eyes, and she gave a cry when she tried to rise. 

"Do you live near here?" I asked, for she was a stranger to me, though Iknew all the people for many miles around. 

"I should not call it far, under usual circumstances, " she answered, "but now it is a long way. I live with my aunt, Ambrosia Moreno. Oh, Ican never get there. "

"You must bathe the ankle here; there is a pool, and the rock beside itmakes a good seat, " and gently lifting her, I placed her beside thestream, which ran clear and cold from under the broad leaves. Withoutany show of false modesty, she did as I directed, and having saturatedmy handkerchief, I bound it about the sprain, and wrapping her longcloak of wool around her, put her shoe and stocking in my pocket, andthen lifting her to my shoulder, started down the road to Madre Moreno'scottage. 

In appearance, the young woman was of small figure, delicately formedand graceful; her face full of life, with finely marked eyebrows of thesame brown shade as her hair; her eyes were blue--a rare colour among usCalifornians--unusually full and brilliant, and to-day suffused withtears. I noticed that the pupils were remarkably large, sometimescovering the greater part, if not all, of the iris. 

Small and light as she was, I had to rest often, for the distance wasnearly a mile, and the surface of the road was much broken. Whenreaching the top of the last rise of the road before arriving at MadreMoreno's I rested for the last time. 

"I am very sorry that this accident has occurred, and I can never thankyou sufficiently for the kindness you have shown me; had you not come tothe ruin I could never have reached home, and the thought of spending anight there makes me shudder even now, " she said as she sat by theroadside. 

"I am sorry that we have to delay so long on the way, for your aunt willbe much worried, " I replied. 

"Aunt Ambrosia ought surely to make some use of her power and come outand carry me home on her broomstick steed, " she answered, looking up atme with a smile. 

"I was much surprised to see you at the ruins this afternoon, and indeedalmost thought that you were some spirit of the place, for I have neverseen any woman but Madre Moreno there, as they are so afraid of thesnakes and lizards which abound, and they also say that there is a curseupon the spot which is liable to affect any one who may stop there longenough. How did you find the ruin? It is so hidden from view by thetrees that a stranger could scarcely have found it except by the merestchance. "

"Aunt Ambrosia told me of it, and said that the sun effects werebeautiful there in the afternoon, and that I had better go to-daybetween four and five, as it was at the best then, when half of the ruinwould be in shadow and the one standing wall receive the full sunlight. I was pleased with the picture, but had I known of the snakes thisaccident never could have happened. You were looking so intently at mewhen I discovered your presence that I was startled and even thought ofAunt Ambrosia's skill in the black art, and that you might be somesupernatural friend of hers, hence my hasty retreat and consequentdisaster. "

"It is a pity that I should have been the cause of the mishap, " Ianswered; though truthfully I was much pleased at our novel meeting, andI knew the sprain was but slight. I again took her in my arms andstarted off at a brisk walk down the hill. It was dusk when weapproached the house, and passed along the narrow path, and knocked atthe open door of Madre Moreno's little house. 

I placed my fair burden in an arm chair, which stood on the veranda and, while waiting for an answer to my knock, looked into her beautiful facewhich was turned partly away from me, but even in the shadow where shewas sitting, the wonderful brilliancy of her eyes was noticeable andseemed to illumine her whole face. 

Madre Moreno came to the door; she held a lighted candle, and as sherecognized me, looked surprised and said, "Hast thou seen no one on theroad Carlos? I have been waiting long for my niece, she went to the ruinthis afternoon and has not yet returned; she must have lost her way, forshe surely would not stay so late otherwise. I shall go out to searchfor her; I hope she has met with no accident. Help me search, Carlos. "

Madre Moreno seemed very anxious, and to have lost all the happy spiritsand buoyancy she had shown in the morning. 

"I am here, Aunt Ambrosia, and thanks to this gentleman or I shouldstill be out on the hill, in the moonlight with all the lizards andsnakes, and perhaps some of your good friends also, " spoke out the girlin a laughing voice. 

"That is good, good, good!" exclaimed Madre Moreno. "How didst thou, Ysidria, come to find our friend Carlos de Soto and he to take theehome?" and the Madre began to laugh boisterously. "Stay to sup with usCarlos, " she said, when she had enough recovered from her fit oflaughter to speak, "or perhaps thou art afraid of the old witch. "

In as few words as possible the accident was explained to Madre Moreno, and I again lifted her niece and placed her on a lounge in the house. "The Madre can bring you out all right, if anyone can, " I said as I leftthe room, "I will take the liberty of inquiring for you in the morning. "

As I walked down the path to the gate, I spoke aloud, "What beautiful, beautiful eyes!"

"Yes, that they are, Master Carlos!" said a voice seemingly beside me. Iturned, the voice sounded like that of the Madre, but no one was to beseen, however, the large black cat which had followed me, put up herback to be stroked and purred and rubbed against my leg. As I closed thegate the same voice sounded again but more faintly. "Beautiful eyes hathYsidria; beautiful eyes!"

IV. 

When I returned home, Catalina had a hot supper ready, and I sat down, forgetting, for the moment, the events of the day, in the odour of thegood things on the table. 

"What success, Don Carlos, have you found the flowers you were searchingfor?"

"Yes, Catalina, I found the plants just where I expected to find them, and I also found at the old adobe what I did not look for. " I then gavean account of the day, however, making as modest enumeration of thecharms of Madre Moreno's niece, as I was able, for fear of excitingCatalina's suspicions. 

I began to feel that I was much interested in the beautiful Ysidria, andhated to have old Catalina discover it, for the girls relationship tothe Madre would, I knew, be the cause of much disquiet to the goodwoman. 

I sat before the door long after supper, building air castles, in all ofwhich the fair stranger held a place. Her brilliant eyes were alwaysbefore my mind, as I had first seen them that afternoon, sometimes of adeep blue colour, and then in a moment black as jet, when the dilatedpupil covered the iris, and then her pretty smile and graceful form eachhad a great and wonderful charm for me. 

The only thing that troubled me, and I tried to laugh it out of mythoughts, was the connection with the reputed witch, but foolish as Iknew such notions to be, I was, however, unable to banish them, and Ioften wished that the beautiful Ysidria was any one in the world but theniece of Ambrosia Moreno. Not that I had any dislike for the Madre, orthat I bore her any ill will for the various misfortunes which had cometo my family through her agency, as the country people believed, but itwas unpleasant to me to think of this young creature living under thesame roof with and under the influence of such a woman as I knew theMoreno to be, aside from her connection with el bueno Diablo, at which Icould only laugh, and a story which I knew to be encouraged by the Madreherself, simply for the notoriety it gave her, and the power she wasenabled through this belief to exercise over the people. 

Ysidria, I had already learned, was as skeptical as myself in regard toMadre Moreno's spells, for the laughing manner in which she had spokenof her aunt's charms and witcheries, when we were on the hill and evenin the presence of the Madre herself, convinced me of her intelligenceand education. It was not this that troubled me concerning Ysidria, butknowing Madre Moreno as I did, and what an unscrupulous, scheming andheartless woman she was, I felt that she had brought this lovely nieceto her home for some purpose known only to herself. Of what that purposecould be I had not the faintest idea, but I knew the Madre never didanything without an object. 

I laughed at myself for the great interest I so suddenly felt in aperson whom I had never seen before, and then only for a few hours. Butlaugh as I would, I had to own that I was something more than interestedin the stranger, and the pleasure with which I looked forward to thepromised call in the morning, and my anxiety for her recovery, plainlyshowed me that my heart was fast being lost, if indeed it were notalready gone from me. 

Catalina sat at the door with me after her work was done, but I was sodeep in my own thoughts, and often did not hear her remarks, that sheleft me and went to her room. 

I did not notice when she left, and not until the clock in the verandastruck eleven did I become aware of the length of time I had beendreaming awake. 

The moon was shining clear and full in the blue, cloudless sky, sobright that scarcely a star could be seen, illuminating the wholecountry so that everything not in shadow could be distinguished as wellas if it were noontime. 

I walked out from the garden down by the Castilian hedge and along theroad where the shadows of the oaks, with their twisted andmistletoe-covered branches, made grotesque forms. I was very fond ofthese solitary walks on moonlight nights, often going as far as thedivide, from which Bolinas and the great ocean can be seen, and whereLarsen's wayside inn now stands, but to-night there was a new sensationof loneliness which I had never felt before, and I longed for some oneto be with me; then I began to wonder whom I would prefer for acompanion, and thought of all my friends, even to old Madre Moreno, butnone of them seemed to be the one to break the new and undefinableloneliness. Suddenly the form of the fair stranger, with her bright eyesand expressive face, came up before my fancy, and I exclaimed, "Yes, itis she; it is she alone!"

"Alone!" sounded back upon my ear like a human voice, which startled mefrom my reverie, and I saw that I was standing beside the old adobe, whither I had wandered without knowing. Close at my feet lay a bit ofwhite cloth which attracted my attention, and I picked it up. It was ahandkerchief of fine cambric, in one corner of which was embroidered aname, which I could easily read in the moonlight, "Ysidria. "

I read the name aloud, and the great wall with its ivy glistening silverin the light echoed back the name. At the time I was not surprised tohear the the three syllables so fully pronounced by the echo. I enjoyedthe sound of the name, and called it again and again. "Ysidria!Ysidria!" each time called back the ruined wall, and at last I had tolaugh as I thought of the ludicrous appearance I presented, callingaloud a name and like a child being pleased with the voice of the unseenspirit, but as I laughed, that too, reverberated, but the sound seemedchanged, and it made me involuntarily shudder as I remembered the sceneof that very morning, when my laugh had produced the same strangefeeling, half of awe and half of anger. I looked around as if I expectedto find some one at my side. I started at every sound, and the long, creeping shadows made me tremble. I was certainly strong, and had oftenshown myself courageous in time of danger, but the mysterious awe whichfell upon me here completely unnerved me, and a cold perspirationstarted, when from the wall I heard a whisper, distinctly audible, whichpronounced the words, "Ysidria hath beautiful eyes!"

I could not move, it seemed to me as if my heart ceased beating; Ilistened and strained my ears in agonizing suspense, but the voice didnot come again, and the moon dropping suddenly behind the fig trees, cast the whole place into profound darkness. 

I felt free again, and pressing the handkerchief to my lips, imprinted akiss upon it and then at the same moment called myself a fool for sosuddenly becoming infatuated with the stranger in whom I had not theslightest reason for taking more than a passing interest at most, nomore than common politeness required. 

Again I laughed aloud and again the same fearful, hollow echo came backto me from the ruined wall. I could stand it no longer, and turning, ranfrom the grove, over the brow of the hill to the road, fearing everymoment lest the strange spell, from which I had just recovered, shouldseize me again. 

As I ascended the second hill, I saw, as I looked behind me, a femalefigure slowly walking down to the road from the grove of figs. I knew atonce who it was from the odd manner of wearing her reboso, and by thelameness of her gait; it was Madre Moreno, the witch. 

The thought suddenly came to me that she must have been hidden in theruin, and have heard me when I called the name of Ysidria, and Imentally cursed the old hag. Then I thought of the whispered sentence, and of the three syllabled echo; and knew they must have come from her. 

"What can the awful woman have in hand?" I asked myself, "What, but somewickedness. I wish she did not follow me so closely. Worse than all, shemay tell the fair Ysidria what a fool I made of myself over herhandkerchief; I almost wish with Catalina that the good old days werehere again. " I walked home more slowly, and entering the house quietly, reached my room just as the clock struck two. 

V. 

The winter went, and the hot summer passed pleasantly. 

It was about the beginning of October, when one morning, I walked downto Madre Moreno's house. I had become a constant visitor at the witch'scottage, and often dined there. The accident which had so oddlyintroduced Ysidria to me was not serious, and in a few days she wascompletely recovered. Ysidria served at the simple meals of MadreMoreno, and no one ever mixed my wine more to my taste than she did, andno one could make better cordial than Ysidria did with the sweet leavesof the yerba buena steeped in the sauternes which I made from myvineyard, and with which I supplied the Madre. 

Ysidria grew apparently more beautiful every day, and the brilliancy ofher eyes, which had attracted my notice at first, became even moremarked. 

I had begun reading aloud to her on afternoons, as we sat in the Morenoveranda, for Ysidria's eyes, though strong and of great power fordistant vision, often entirely failed her when reading or looking at anynear object, so I found great pleasure in my visits, and as the Madrewas seldom present to annoy me, I thoroughly enjoyed every moment, asYsidria had become a necessity to my happiness, and I loved her. 

On the morning of which I have spoken, I went to keep a walkingengagement, and found Ysidria waiting for me in the garden. As Iapproached, I noticed that she held her reboso in her hand and waslaughing immoderately, while she tripped from one end of the path to theother, singing snatches of songs or impromptu rhymes. As I stood by thegate she did not see me, though she came very near, near enough to havetouched me. 

I felt a chill pass over me as I looked at the beautiful creature; therewas something so unnatural, so weird about her actions, that I felt asif I were gazing upon a being from another world. Her eyes were brighterthan ever before, but in them was no sight for what was near her; theyseemed fixed upon objects far away. I could not speak, for when I triedto utter her name my voice refused to come, so I turned and wentsorrowful and puzzled back to my home. 

The suspense I endured was almost unbearable. By the afternoon I wentagain to the Madre's house, and with strange forebodings knocked at thedoor, which was answered by Ysidria; she seemed to be completelyrecovered from her late mysterious attack, nor did she allude toanything having occurred during the morning out of the usual course, excepting that she twitted me for not keeping my engagement with her. She laughed as she took her reboso from the table, saying that she wasout of patience, and that I must take the walk with her as punishment. 

I, of course said nothing of my morning visit, or what I had witnessed, but it troubled me greatly all the afternoon. 

We walked and talked, and now my good friends thank me for not reportingthat conversation; it was fascinating, and even now I think there wereglintings of common sense in it, but really not enough to warrant theextra type setting, (for which my publishers charge outrageously), required to give it. It was the same sort of thing you talked lastsummer with Guadaloupe at Catalina Island, Morris, and the same youtalked with Vinnie in the Sierras, George, and the same you talked withall the girls in the States last year, Dickey. You don't want to hear itagain, and I must cut expenses somewhere. 

It is enough to say, that though nothing was said, both Ysidria and Iknew that we loved, and we knew whom. When we reached Madre Moreno'shouse, she came out and invited me to supper; there was a smile, adisagreeable, malicious smile on her face as she spoke, and not caringto alloy the pleasure of my afternoon with Ysidria by enduring theMadre's company, I refused, and walked over to my house. 

VI. 

"Vengeance is mine and I will repay;" such was the text of PadreArguello's discourse that hot October day, before his littlecongregation in Bolinas. The good father became as fervid as the day, and mopped his benevolent face many times before his panting audiencewas allowed to walk out in the open and catch a glimpse of the whiteocean gleaming as a mass of melted silver till it met the dull, whitehorizon. A dozen fig trees before the door gave the only shade about theplace excepting where the half ruined walls of the old church shelteredthe Father's little garden. The congregation was soon dispersed, most ofthem riding to their homes in the foothills, while a few, who lived inthe neighbourhood of the village, walked quietly down toward the sea, and the bright, cultivated gardens, which were kept green by theever-flowing arroyo which here spread its rich alluvial deposits overthe land in the winter time. 

I had ridden over the night before with all my household, and as manyfrom the neighbouring ranchos had joined us on the way, there was aslarge a cavalcade as the little village had seen since Viscaino's pilot, Francisco Bolanos, christened the spot in 1602. 

It was Padre Arguello's farewell, as he was to sail for Acapulco in afew days, and the country people had come for many miles to do himhonour. All had been much surprised when old Ambrosia Moreno entered thechurch and, with Ysidria, knelt through the service. Madre Moreno hadnot been to service or confession since her father's death, indeed I hadheard her once make a blasphemous jest about the most holy Mass, andgood Padre Andreas at San Anselmo, in whose flock she was the blackestsheep, gave her up as lost here and hereafter; so there was muchsurprise at the Madre's action. Catalina was simply indignant at thisdesecration, as she called it, and wondered that the beads had notburned her fingers. 

The sermon was long and dull, but I did not mind these defects, orrather thought them virtues, for my mind was not interrupted in thecontemplation of Ysidria. 

I felt like laughing with delight all the day, and wore far from what iscalled now-a-days, a "Sunday face. "

There was a bull and bear fight in the afternoon, but Ysidria and Ipreferred a walk on the bluffs; of course, Madre Moreno went with us, but she considerately, or by chance, kept by herself. Madre Moreno hadallowed her niece and myself a freedom of intercourse not at all inkeeping with Californian customs, but she took upon her the duties ofdueņa at Bolinas, so that the many visitors should find no chance forwonder or remark. Catalina and the others of my household, went to thefight. 

There were not many at vespers, and Madre Moreno and Ysidria had startedearly for home with the Danas, so I had to myself the pleasure ofkneeling in the spot where Ysidria had worshipped in the forenoon. 

Catalina and the servants were very gay, and her mind was so full of theentertainment, that she never spoke of the morning's wonder, but talkedduring all the moonlight homeward ride, about the tactics of the bull, which it seemed had been the victor. 

Catalina must have noticed a change in me, but she could not discoverthe cause, as she did not know where I had spent most of my time, thinking, that I as formerly, went out in the woods botanizing, thoughshe must have wondered at the scarcity of my collections. 

Thus the wet season began and all the country grew green and the streamswere filled, and the plants which had died or withered in the heat ofsummer, began to show new leaves, and the nightshade shot up tendergreen sprigs before the old growth had fairly died. 

Mercedes Dana, who never having had a love episode of her own, spentmost of her time in ferreting out those of others and spreading the newswith such exaggerations and embellishments as she thought needed, informed Catalina of the state of affairs which had already become thetalk of the country. 

Catalina was astonished, for her thoughts were so occupied within thelittle circle of the rancho that she noted little of outsideoccurrences. She felt hurt, but, as she afterwards told me, she plainlysaw why it was that I had never spoken to her on the subject, and shewas grateful for the thoughtfulness which had so long kept from her theannoyance which the knowledge would have caused. She was grieved only atthe relationship existing between Madre Moreno and Ysidria, and feltthat in some way it was part of the curse. She said nothing to me of herdiscovery, acting as usual, only speaking often of the old familytrouble between the Morenos and the Sotos, saying that she hoped thecurse might pass over one generation, if not depart forever. 

VII. 

The green December hills, with flaming spots of toyones, had long beeninviting me to make a stroll among them to renew old acquaintanceship, and many a day I felt like starting out from the rancho and throwingmyself into their great arms. The care of the flocks needed much of myattention in winter, and I had been greatly alarmed at the news of theterrible influx of "Yankees, " as well as of the plots of the English, and the future of my beloved California was dark enough to cast my lifein shadow. 

One day, however, I broke away. Gentle breezes from the purple canoņsfloated by me laden with the scent of redwoods, and by the roadside theclumps of laurel gave out their vigourous perfume as their branches werestirred; then in the quietness of the air between these breaths, thesteaming earth yielded to my grateful sense its own peculiar and richodour. Few wild flowers were out, but on the gay manzanitas hungmillions of little pink and white bells, so delicate that they seemedmore like the bloom of some rare exotic than the winter gift of so hardyand rugged a shrub. 

I did not stop to rest until I had reached a high point of the pathwhere a sudden turn along the edge of a precipice threw open the wholeview of the valley. It was yet early morning, and I watched the floatingbits of mist drifting above the dark canoņs, canoņs so narrow that thesun never reached their beds. Through clumps of leafless oaks the noisyarroyo could be seen hidden here and there by the thick foliage of someglistening madroņo, with its red branches, or by dark, lustrous laurels. Bunches of mistletoe upon the dry branches of the oaks smiled fresh andgreen from their stolen perches like little oases in a desert of gray. Sometimes an early bee flew by me with hungry humming, and the sharpcall of the jay would rise from the depths to mingle with the steadysighing of the wind through the giant redwoods. I had taken my favouritelittle mare, who never needed the bridle, being guided by my voice orslightest motion, and as I sat with arms akimbo under my poncho I feltas I were free again from all the trouble of life and could not buthalloa for very exuberance of joy. Presently there came an answer fromthe cliffs above, and looking up I beheld Ysidria, mounted on the blackhorse I had some months before given to Madre Moreno, to be used by herniece, who was not so strong as she had been, and unable to walk so muchas formerly. 

"Wait, and I will come down, " she called and disappeared among theshrubs. 

Ysidria was much changed, she had grown thin and nervous during theyear; yet, failing as she did in body, her eyes seemed every day tobecome more beautiful, as if they absorbed all her life. With thegrowing brilliancy of her eyes, increased also their defective sight, and she was quite unable to read, yet her power of extended vision waswonderful. 

Lately, I had cherished the thought of having Ysidria go to Santa Clara, or even to Mexico, to be under the care of some experienced occulist, and the fear of her becoming blind, when it might be too late to haveanything done, made me very anxious, and Pedirpozza, whom I might havecalled, had gone for a time to the Colorado country. 

The day before this, on which I met Ysidria in the mountains, I hadspoken to Madre Moreno of the subject nearest my heart. I had spoken buta few words when she said:

"Thou needst not go any further, Seņor Carlos, I know thy thoughts andhave read them for a long time. Thou hast no one to ask for Ysidria butherself and the old witch, who is her only relative. I give my consent. "

I was so delighted that I could only express myself by kissing theforehead of Madre Moreno. 

"Be careful my Seņorito!" she cried starting back and then laughing, "becareful how thou kissest the love of el bueno Diablo, or he may bejealous and play thee a bad trick. "

I always hated the Madre when she laughed, and I hurried away. 

In about ten minutes Ysidria reached the path where I was waiting, ithaving been necessary for her to come by a circuitous trail. 

"You are out early, " I exclaimed. 

"Yes, Aunt Ambrosia's kindness often seems unbearable, and I fly fromit; it is curious for one to run from kindness. "

"Your aunt is a strange creature, I can never understand her; sometimesI love her much, and then, without any apparent cause, I shun her as ifshe bore a plague. "

"I too feel so toward her, and scarcely know whether she loves medevotedly or hates me; her laugh though is unbearable, to me, thereseems to be wickedness in it, " replied Ysidria, "though I should nottalk ill of her, for she is very kind, making me many little sweets andpasties, and there is one sweet drop of which she is very choice, nevergiving me more than one at a time. I have nearly grown into the habit oftaking them each morning before breakfast, and I feel very wretched if Imiss one. You must try them, and shall, if I can persuade Aunt Ambrosiafor an extra drop; I think she will for you though. "

"We have been talking, Madre Moreno and I, and I have proposed that youshall go to Mexico or Santa Clara to have an oculist examine your eyes, for indeed I fear there is something which should be looked to at once. We would all hate to have your beautiful eyes, Ysidria, never reflectour faces more. "

We had by this time reached the old ruin, and turned, as if of oneaccord, toward the spot. 

"Yes, Seņor Carlos, " said Ysidria, as we dismounted, "every word ofpraise I hear about my eyes, seems like mockery to me; I, myself, amfrightened at their strange changes, and fear that I shall soon beblind. "

"Then why not go at once to Santa Clara? It is your only hope. Why notgo to-morrow?" I asked, as I took her hand in mine. 

"That cannot be; I am not able, nor is Aunt Ambrosia, to allow of theexpense. I must be content to see while I may, and then live on with theremembrance of your kind faces ever before me. "

"Ysidria, do not despond; let me help you; it has been my dream for thepast year. Will you be my wife?"

I caught her in my arms, for she seemed as if about to fall. 

"Ah, Carlos, I am too happy, " she murmured. "I love you, but I cannot beyour wife with my infirmity. No, I cannot be so selfish; I will not putupon you a burden. I love you, but let us live as we do now, for youmust never tire of me and still feel bound to me for life. I shall beblind. I love you too well. "

"Ysidria, I love you for your own dear self. Nor fear so for your sight. The trouble is, I trust, nothing but temporary; the loss for a time ofthe accommodation; it can easily be remedied when Pedirpozzo returns. Sodo not let the fear of being a burden, which you can never be to me, deter you from giving me the promise I so desire. Say you will be mywife, Ysidria. "

"I will, " she replied, and then I took a ring of my mother's and placedit on her finger. 

"Let us go over to the wall and sit where I first saw you, Ysidria, " Isaid, "and begin the world with hope. "

We started to cross the hollow, passing the atropa, which was justsending out its early shoots. I crushed it with my foot, and ground downeach stem till not a bit of green was left, and then I placed somestones upon it; some way I enjoyed this little act, and Ysidria joinedme in trampling down the plant. 

"It is an ill-favoured thing, " I said, "and does more harm than good, but Madre Moreno, I scarcely think will thank me for destroying it, forshe always gathered its leaves for some of her medicines. "

"Yes, she will, Seņorito Carlos; she will thank thee, " said a voicebehind us, and turning we saw Madre Moreno. 

"I had come to do the same thing myself, and thou hast saved me thelabour. Why didst thou not kill it before to-day? This is a strange dayon which to kill the old plant!"

The Madre had some chips of pine in her basket; these she placed abovethe plant and pouring a flask of turpentine over them, set it all afire;then piling up chunks of hard wood, she stood back to watch the blaze. 

"It is needed no more, " she said, "so we will leave no vestige of it, for it must never spring up again. " We looked at the witch in silenceand wonder. 

"Art thou happy, Carlos Sotos, with thy love? Thank old Madre Moreno forit. " She laughed aloud, and the wall echoed back the laugh mockingly. 

VIII. 

When I parted from Ysidria at Madre Moreno's that evening, after thedestruction of the plant, I looked into her blue eyes, and suddenly thepupil spread over the entire iris. 

"Oh! Ysidria, your eyes are beautiful, " and I pressed a kiss upon them, "good-bye, till we meet to-morrow. I am happy. "

"Good night, " she answered, "I shall see you in the morning. I will riseas the first rays of the sun, come through my window, and my firstthought will be of you. "

We parted, and I watched her graceful form as she walked up the path tothe door; she turned and waved her hand to me as she passed from sight. 

"Her eyes, alas, are all the light I know!" I said aloud, and, with anindefinable feeling of sadness, walked briskly home. 

I told Catalina all, that evening, but the good woman said nothing tosadden me, but I could see sorrow in her face. 

There were clouds in the sky at sunset, and every prospect of a storm;the wind howled through the trees and rattled the doors of the oldhouse. I sat till late watching the collecting clouds which were rollingon in turbulent masses, and very low, till all was dark, as the lastrent was filled, through which the moon had been shining. It was aterrible storm, the worst I had ever known, and Catalina came to my doorat about two o'clock, in great fright, saying that she had seen a figurelike Madre Mareno, going by the house as if floating in the air, and hadheard a loud report as if there had been thunder in the distance, comingfrom Tamalpais. I could hear the rumbling and could not tell what itwas; but I laughed at her fears and told her that it must have been ashadow, for no human being even a witch, would be out in such a night, if they could help it. 

Catalina went back to her room, but was far from reassured, and sat therest of the night with her beads in her hand, praying by candle light. 

The next morning the storm was over, though through the sky the cloudswere driving fast, but the rising sun touched them with gold and all thetrees looked bright and new. Early, after breakfast, I gathered someflowers, and, mounting my mare, rode down to Madre Moreno's cottage. 

The storm seemed to have been more severe here than at the rancho, forthe garden was destroyed and the vines by the house were hanging, tornfrom the trellises. 

Knocking at the half open door, I waited some minutes, but receiving noanswer, stepped into the room. Upon the table lay a sheet of paper, Itook it up to read what was written on it, thinking it would tell wherethe Madre and Ysidria had gone. 

All that was upon it was my name, but under the sheet was an envelopeaddressed to me. I hurriedly broke the seal and spread the sheets beforeme; they read--

 My dear Carlos:

 Scarcely do I know how to begin this letter to you, whom I love so much. My aunt, Ambrosia, came to me last night, soon after you left me at the gate; she was smiling and very happy, and resting her hand on my shoulder said:

 "Ysidria thou hast done well, thou couldst not have done better had I trained thee to it. " I was surprised at her manner, and asked her to explain. She sat down beside me and taking my hand in hers began:

 "I know thou art willing to do much for thy old aunt, and I have made thee, unknowingly, do it, though then wilt not blame me when I tell the why I have. " She then related to me a tale of her father's time, when he had some trouble with your grandfather, and of the curse which she had pronounced upon each generation of de Sotos; you know all this. I listened in surprise and disgust, for she seemed to gloat over the thought of avenging the fancied wrong. 

 "I have had revenge upon two generations through that plot of ground, and now I must have it from the present, from their child, Carlos de Sotos, through that same plot and through thee. "

 "Do you expect me to deceive him?" I cried in horror, "I will rather leave your house than that. " She laughed loudly at this, and said: "It is too late now, Ysidria, the deed is already done. " And then she related to me a story so full of scheming and horror that I can but write it in outline. She planned the terrible revenge many years ago, and would alas, have made you the victim. 

 There is a plant called the atropa belladonna, a very poisonous shrub, which is rare in this country, but Ambrosia obtained one and planted it beside the little stream which runs by the ruined house. It was that which we destroyed. From this she extracted the juices as she well knows how. Now begins the awful scheme. She sent for me, who was living at the Convent de Santa Clara, to come and be her companion, as she was growing old. She knew that I was beautiful, and thinking to gain your love for me, tried in every way to bring us together. We met, and heaven knows we truly loved. Ever since my arrival she has given me a sweetmeat, of which I once told you. In this confection was the smallest quantity of the extract of the poisonous atropa, and some Chinese drug unknown to me, the taking of which in time became a necessity of my being, but not till to-night did I know the contents of these drops or the awful power to which I am a slave. The extract affected my eyes, causing their unnatural brilliancy and impaired vision. Having fixed this terrible habit upon me, she would wed me to you, and thus make your future life miserable, for in a few years the drug would ruin me in soul and body, and its only substitute could be found in the fatal opium. The revenge is the height of cruelty, and alas, I was to be the helpless medium. She thought that I should be proud of the use to which she had put me, for she said it was as much my duty to avenge the death of my grandfather as for her that of her father. I know not what I said, but my anger gave me words. I told her of the enormity of her crime, the inhumanity she had shown, and that I would do no more nor longer remain with her. 

 She laughed and left the room. Presently returning, she handed me a packet of the confections and with a mocking smile said: "Make thy husband happy while these sweets last; they are my wedding present to thee. " She left me. I know the terrible power this drug has over me, and nothing can ever cure. Even if the habit be not indulged in, I have gone so far that my existence would be worse than death. I will not make your life miserable; the dread of being blind is nothing to this. May the Holy Mother forgive me for all I have been the cause, innocent as I am, of bringing upon you. I love you too, too well, and it is thus that I destroy Ambrosia Moreno's curse. No more shall misfortune come upon you or yours, for with my life I have bought your freedom, I have gone to the old adobe, and this wedding gift of Ambrosia shall be my means of saving you. May good St. Joseph shield you and all the Saints bless you. I will meet you in the morning, Carlos, as I promised. Thank you deeply, heartily, for your love, and when some time you are happily wedded, think of Ysidria, and teach your wife to bless her for her love for you. One last request. Give whatever I have to the good sisters in the convent to take care of the statue of Our Lady of Santa Clara, and ask them to keep me in their prayers. 

 YSIDRIA. 

IX. 

I quickly mounted my mare and galloped down the road and over the hillto the adobe, and there, the morning sun shining full upon her face, laymy love, my Ysidria. By her side was a packet open and white pelletsscattered on the grass. 

I bent and kissed the white face, and took the cold hand in mine, praying to the Blessed Virgin to give me strength to bear this killingtrial. "Yes, Ysidria, " I cried, as tears rolled down my cheeks, "we willmeet again in the morning beneath the sunlight of God's love. "

My words were scarcely uttered when I noted a throb of her pulse, andthen I felt as it were a dream, the beautiful eyes of Ysidria opened andgazed at me but did not seem to see me. I did not care then if it were adream; swiftly I mounted my mare, bearing the light body of my lovebefore me, and hurried back to the house of Madre Moreno. Near the houseI met the frightened Catalina and, the Saints be praised, behind her mydear, old friend, Pedirpozzo, who had that morning returned. They hadread Ysidria's letter which I had left on the table. Hot coffee wasready. The doctor took my all too light burden from me, and then for thefirst time I broke down and for a week knew nothing, waking oneafternoon to find the ever faithful Catalina sitting at my bedside. SoonI learned from Pedirpozza that Ysidria was better and would recover, notonly her normal eyesight, but also be easily cured of the craving forthe fatal pellets. It seemed that she had fainted just as she was aboutto take the poison and my timely arrival had saved her life. 

Ambrosia, Madre Moreno, was never seen after the night of the greatstorm, and no one knew what became of her, though some years after, newscame from the Rancho Laguna de la Merced, on the San Francisco side, that an old woman, answering to the description of the witch, hadsuddenly appeared there, and was living alone in a hut in one of theinnumerable gullies, destitute and shunned by all. Catalina and the goodwomen of the place never gave up the idea that the Evil One carried heroff in the great storm, which left its lasting mark on the face of MountTamalpais. 

 * * * * *

A year passed, and Ysidria, under the care of the good Pedirpozzo, completely recovered her health, and one happy day in Easter Week wewere wedded by Padre Andreas, at San Rafael, and we went to live at therancho, with Catalina still as housekeeper, all of us feeling likepeople saved from a wreck and hoping never to suffer such sorrow again. 

By the next Easter there was great rejoicing at the rancho, and from allthe country came my friends with their households to the christening ofour son. The day was spent in games and feasting, and in the eveningHenrico, or Quito, as we called him, was brought out to be toasted. There were many pretty speeches made, and Catalina carried them all tothe happy mother. 

After all the guests had gone, Pedirpozzo led me aside and in his gentleway, so full of sympathy, he told me what his experienced eye had notedwhen little Quito was held before the company in the candle-light--hetold me what you already know from the first of my story--Quito washopelessly blind. 

Yet we have lived to be all happy and to bless God, and my dear wife somercifully spared to me, clasps my hand in love and sympathy, when Ithink, but do not say aloud, "Our Quito has the beautiful eyes ofYsidria. "