DEATH OF CAPTAIN COOK.
 
 A JVlKxicAN RANCH 
 
 OR 
 
 BEAUTY FOR ASHES 
 
 A PRIZE STORY 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. JANIE PRICHARD DUGGAN 
 
 He hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, 
 
 To proclaim liberty to the captives, 
 
 And the opening of the prison to them that are bound ; 
 
 To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, 
 
 And the day of vengea..ce of our God; 
 
 To comfort all that mourn ; 
 
 To give unto them beauty for ashes, 
 
 The oil of joy for mourning, 
 
 The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. 
 
 ISAIAH 61 : 1-3. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 AMERICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY 
 
 1420 CHESTNUT STREET 
 
 1894
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1894, by the 
 
 AMERICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY, 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
 
 TO 
 
 THOSE FAITHFUL MISSIONARIES, 
 
 MY COLLEAGUES IN MEXICO, THIS VOLUME 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
 
 BY 
 
 J. P. D.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGK 
 
 INTRODUCTION, PROLOGUE, 7-14 
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 A MOUNTAIN WAIF, 15 
 
 CHAPTEK II. 
 THE WAIF'S STORY, 34 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 LOOKING BACKWARD, 45 
 
 CHAPTEK IY. 
 
 THE HOUSE OF YERA, 57 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 SUNDAY AT THE RANCH, G9 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 OLD JUANA'S PROPHECY 87 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 THE STORM ON THE PRAIRIE, 107 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 LITTLE LOLA'S QUESTION, 117 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 DONA RAQUEL'S CONFESSION, 130 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 FRIENDSHIP'S PROOF, 143 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 THE LITTLE LAMB GOES HOME, 162 
 
 CHAPTEK XII. 
 RAINY DAYS AT THE RANCH, ... ..... 177
 
 6 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTEK XIII. 
 THE HIDE TO LA PROVIDENCIA, 188 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 IK THE KIVER, 202 
 
 CHAPTEK XV. 
 NURSING SMALL-POX, 211 
 
 CHAPTEK XVI. 
 THE PRIEST AND THE SCHOOLMASTER, 225 
 
 CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 
 
 .... 237 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 
 
 .248 
 
 CHAPTEK XIX. 
 
 
 PRAYERS TO THE SAINTS, 
 
 266 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 
 
 .... 279 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 
 
 . . 292 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 
 OLD JUANA'S PROPHECY FULFILLED, . . . 
 
 .... 309 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 
 
 .... 321 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 
 THE CONFERENCE AT THE BARN, 
 
 .... 335 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 
 FROM THE RANCH TO THE CITY, 
 
 .' ... 848 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 
 BKAUTY FOR ASHES, 
 
 . ... 358 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 
 A GARDEN OF GIRLS, 
 
 .... 366
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 THIS is not a true story in the sense that each 
 character is a true representation of some real 
 person who has said and done just what the 
 characters of the book say and do. Nor are the 
 facts stated matters of history in our Baptist 
 annals. Perhaps there is no ranch of San Ber- 
 nabe in the whole republic of Mexico. 
 
 Yet it is a true story in the sense that there 
 have been missionaries in Mexico for over thirty 
 years who have lived and toiled and preached and 
 taught just as the missionaries of this story are 
 represented as doing. There have been persecutions 
 and mobs and burnings of mission houses ; there 
 have been long seasons of drought during the Lord's 
 seed-times, which have ended in marvelous ingath- 
 erings at the harvest ; there has been all this since 
 the beginning of mission work in all foreign lands, 
 and there will be to the end, and " the end is not 
 yet " ; there have been loving and marrying and 
 hope and disappointment and death in the world 
 from the day God's angel with the fiery sword 
 first guarded against man the gates of Paradise, 
 the abode of sinlessness and perfect happiness. 
 
 7
 
 8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 There are numberless ranches all over Mexico 
 opening to the gospel, where men and women are 
 needed to minister to the diseased souls and bodies 
 of the peasants. In some there is not even the 
 adobe mission schoolhouse, while in others, neat 
 buildings have been raised to the praise of God 
 and his Son. 
 
 As these lines are written, news comes that the 
 ranch used as a model for San Bernabe has at last 
 a new Baptist meeting-house, after several years 
 of struggle toward this point ; and this item also 
 comes with the news: "Since beginning to use 
 our new house, sixjiy hearers have been added to 
 the congregation, without counting those who 
 stand outside. in the doorway and windows." 
 
 So "San Bernabe" at last has its mission 
 church in truth, even though no chapel to "Our 
 L/ady of Solitude " had to be torn down to make 
 way for it, and the work of the Lord prospers in 
 that place just as if a Mary and a Roger Douglas 
 were shepherds of the little flock folded there. 
 
 J. P. D. 
 WAKE FOREST, April, 1894. 

 
 PROLOGUE. 
 THE CHILD IN THE; GARDEN. 
 
 r PHE old garden is gone now, with its gooseberry 
 J- bushes and the long asparagus beds, and the 
 crab apple-tree, whose delicious blooms enticed the 
 bees and the humming birds as no other tree in 
 the garden could. The long, shady arbor, reach- 
 ing quite across the garden, and laden in the 
 autumn with pink and purple grapes, swinging 
 high above childish heads this is gone too, along 
 with the sunny stretch of green sward, bounded 
 by the mint beds and the tansy plots. The 
 gnarled, old apple-trees, the pippin and the "rosy- 
 cheeked," have laid their heads low, and long 
 past is the time when their sturdy limbs and 
 spreading branches were Blue Beard's castle or 
 brigands' strongholds and their leaves made gar- 
 lands for fairy folk. 
 
 The child is gone too, yet both she and the 
 garden exist still, as that far-away, ancient city 
 exists, sunk beneath the waves of the northern 
 seas. The waters surge and beat along the empty 
 coast, once graced by the walls of the fair city ; 
 but the fisherman pauses as his boat rides the 
 waves over the spot where the sunken city now 
 rests, and fancies that he hears the evening bells 
 
 9
 
 IO PROLOGUE. 
 
 ring out from the church towers below and the 
 voices of children in the streets calling to one 
 another at play. In spite of the piles of stone and 
 mortar, and the trim, graveled paths now occupy- 
 ing the old "home spot," she who was the child 
 still wanders through the old garden, rilled with 
 the scent of blossoming trees and the singing of 
 birds. 
 
 Perhaps her eyes are not so sharp and bright 
 to-day as on those summer mornings when she 
 trotted between the asparagus beds, a few steps in 
 front of "grandpa," eagerly bent on spying and 
 pointing out to him the tender, sprouting heads 
 awaiting his keen knife. The curly head under 
 the blue gingham sun-bonnet often grew damp 
 and heated in the ardent sunshine, but grandpa 
 could never find all the tempting bits of the tender 
 asparagus without Mary's aid of that the small 
 maid was quite sure, and grandpa never tried to 
 convince her of the contrary ; perhaps, indeed, she 
 was right, for the old man's step grew languid 
 long before he would give up his daily pleasures 
 in the garden of noting the budding raspberry 
 bushes, of straightening the rows of strawberry 
 plants, or of breaking open the tarnished bloom 
 of a peach-tree to see if last week's frost had killed 
 the germ. 
 
 The snow was lying deep over every hillock 
 and bed in the garden on the day when grandpa 
 was carried away between the euonymus trees and
 
 PROLOGUE. II 
 
 rows of box, never again to follow the child down 
 the garden paths. The garden was never again 
 quite so sunny as before ; and after that, I 
 think the blue sky always seemed a little nearer 
 to the garden tree tops. 
 
 The odor of the rich, damp earth, freshly turned 
 up by the plough, how even to this far-off day 
 it is wafted back, and little Mary again digs her 
 bare toes into the moist, brown clods, with small 
 shrieks and shudders at the sight of the squirming 
 earthworms thus suddenly brought to light. 
 
 Many a trampled trail through the oat patch 
 told of strolls with the favorite boy-doll "Willy" ', 
 and the inner quake of fear is almost felt again at 
 the realization that "Willy " is perhaps really lost 
 amid the bowing grain, when the little mother 
 has only laid him to sleep for a moment in a par- 
 ticularly inviting nest while she rambles on in 
 search of a flower. Ah, silly child, your path 
 back through the oatfield to your lost dolly is 
 easier to retrace than you imagine, as you gaze 
 ahead over the unbroken surface of grain before 
 you. Looking back through the years now, my 
 Mary, why is it that the long past, all tried as 
 it has been, seems as unreadable and inaccessible 
 as the short and untried future beyond? With 
 our enlarged vision, our grown-up energies, our 
 "evolved" tastes, is it ever possible to find our 
 way back to that once prominent past, which 
 was so vivid a present, and to stand in thought 

 
 12 PROLOGUE. 
 
 and imagination just where once we stood in 
 reality? 
 
 A long bench under the grape arbor, with the 
 legs wanting at one end, made a delightful re- 
 clining seat in the green shade, and Mary, who 
 had no wish for cushions and had never heard of 
 hammocks, thought no place so inviting for read- 
 ing, while the bees hummed overhead and the 
 catbirds called to each other in the apple-trees ; 
 and "Marmion," "The Lady of the Lake," and 
 the dear old illustrated edition of "Vanity Fair," 
 are vivid memories of those early reading days. 
 
 The grass was soft and cool in the summer 
 evenings, as the child, lying on her back, gazed 
 up at the rosy clouds sailing overhead. There 
 beset her then the same questions that puzzle the 
 world still, and always will, but they were chased 
 hither and thither in the small brain or driven 
 into out-of-the-way corners by the sight of the 
 slow whirl of the birds against the sky, enjoying 
 their sunset pastimes, or by the peeping of the 
 sleepy birdies in the nest in the apricot tree near 
 by. 
 
 The questions remain, yes, and they have 
 grown broader and more comprehensive as the 
 years have passed until they embrace the whole 
 of the mystery of her life, but the idle circling 
 of a bird in the air does not now bring the calm 
 and the patience that are needed ; they come with 
 the tiny whisper : " He knows ; he knows."
 
 A MKXICAN RANCH.
 
 For my part, if I can put one touch of a rosy sunset into the life 
 of any man or woman ... I shall feel that I have worked with 
 God. He is in no haste ; and if I do what I may, in earnest, I need 
 not mourn if I do no great work on the earth. Let God make his 
 sunsets : I will mottle my little fading cloud. To help the growth of 
 a thought that struggles toward the light ; to brush with gentle hand 
 the earth-stain from the white of one snowdrop such be my ambi- 
 tion ! So shall I scale the rocks in front, not Jeave my name carved 
 upon those behind me ! George Macdonald.
 
 . CHAPTER I. 
 
 A MOUNTAIN WAIF. 
 
 Is not this the fast that I have chosen ? To loose the bands of 
 wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go 
 free ? Isa. 58 : 6. 
 
 u CEftORlTA ! Buenos dias." (Good-morning, 
 
 v3 miss !) 
 
 " Good-morning, Dona Martina. What a beau- 
 tiful day we have." 
 
 " Very beautiful, senorita, and Come hither, 
 
 thou little vagabond, what dost thou hiding 
 behind the door ? Dost thou not see the Senorita 
 Americana waiting here, and how can I explain 
 to her if thou wilt persist in hiding thy face ? 
 Come hither, I say." 
 
 Mary Summers was on her way to open the 
 door of the little mission schoolhouse, one bright 
 morning in October, when she was arrested by 
 the shrill voice of the Mexican woman whose 
 hut she was passing. She stopped, wondering 
 not a little that Dona Martina, who was known 
 as one of the most fanatical women in the large 
 ranch of San Bernabe", should have called to her 
 thus publicly from her doorway. She showed 
 none of her astonishment however, but awaited 
 further developments, standing outside upon the 
 
 15
 
 l6 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 glaring white road which divided the ranch into 
 two almost equal parts. After a few moments the 
 " little vagabond " was hunted from his hiding 
 place, and this time triumphantly presented by 
 his mother to the teacher outside. 
 
 "Will you take him, maestro,?"^ she asked, 
 looking with pride upon her son, a boy of seven 
 years, who still hung back unwillingly, grasping 
 the soiled skirt of his mother's dress. 
 
 " Certainly," replied Miss Summers, holding 
 out her white hand and taking the small brown 
 one of the child, " I shall be glad to have another 
 boy as a companion for Carlos and Samuel. All 
 the rest of my pupils are girls," she explained to 
 the woman, who was examining with open admi- 
 ration the fresh morning dress of the school- 
 mistress. 
 
 "Well, go along with thee, Juanito," said the 
 mother, good-hurnoredly ; ' ' and mind the maestro, 
 in all things, or thou knowest what will happen 
 on thy return." 
 
 Martina stood in the doorway of her small 
 shanty, shading her eyes with her hand, as she 
 watched the two walking briskly away from her 
 along the road toward the tiny adobe ' schoolhouse, 
 a hundred yards away. 
 
 " I do not care," she muttered to herself, "they 
 may say what they please. She is pretty and 
 gentle, and her scholars are learning better than 
 
 1 Schoolmistress. * A large sun-dried brick.
 
 A MOUNTAIN WAIF. 17 
 
 Don Gregorio's boys, who have been at their a-b 
 abs for three months already. Of course she is a 
 Protestant, but Juanito is young yet, and she 
 will do him no harm. And who knows? He 
 will be learning English soon, and then, some 
 day, he will go to the States to work, and become 
 a rich man, perhaps as rich as our Don Bduardo. 
 Ah ! I have many desires to see our Juanito a rich 
 man. Hark," she continued, "the mistress is 
 going to sing. " 
 
 Heavy footsteps came behind her, shuffling 
 over the uneven dirt floor of the hut, and a gaunt, 
 unhealthy looking man joined her in the doorway, 
 and opened his mouth to speak, just as a strain of 
 music issued from the schoolhouse door. Mary 
 Summers was playing on the tiny organ the open- 
 ing bars of a hymn, and immediately her clear 
 strong voice led the scholars in singing in Span- 
 ish, " What a Friend we have in Jesus." 
 
 Several forms appeared at the doors along the 
 road nearer the schoolhouse than Martina's, and 
 one or two listened until the entire hymn was 
 sung. The ranch was very quiet at this time of 
 the morning, as all the men who could work had 
 long since gone to the adjoining plantations to 
 gather in the bean crop, which was to form the 
 principal food for their families during the coming 
 winter. The boys who could be spared from this 
 task were usually at this time huddled in Don 
 Gregorio's schoolroom, just across the way from 
 
 B
 
 l8 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 the mission house, and some of the mothers and 
 daughters were engaged in grinding the corn for 
 the midday tortillas (Mexican corn cakes), while 
 others went to the tiny rivulet on the outskirts of 
 the ranch to do the weekly washing. 
 
 Usually Don Gregorio's boys were incited to 
 louder study than usual, during the half-hour 
 which Mary gave to the opening exercises of her 
 little school, and their loud sing-song rendering 
 of the silabario, or syllable-book, in concert, 
 Mexican fashion, often drowned the feeble voices 
 of Mary's youthful choir. This morning, how- 
 ever, Don Gregorio was late, and he came hurry- 
 ing down the road from El Porvenir, a little 
 neighboring ranch, just in time to hear the closing 
 words of the song and to find his boys all clustered 
 eagerly about the door of Mary's schoolroom. 
 
 Old Dona Catarina, toothless and almost deaf, 
 sat in the sun near the schoolhouse door and told 
 her beads vigorously as the music floated past her 
 dull ears, while farther on, a young woman nurs- 
 ing her baby caught up the words of the song, 
 and gently crooned them into her little one's ear : 
 
 " Estas debil y cargado 
 De cuidados y temor ? " 
 
 "Yes, L,ord," she murmured, " thou knowest it. 
 Thou knowest that I am ' burdened with care and 
 fear.'" 
 
 " Take it to the Lord in prayer," 
 
 sang the children.
 
 A MOUNTAIN WAIF. IQ 
 
 <( Dear Jesus," she prayed, under her breath, 
 " the little teacher says I may tell it all to thee. 
 Thou knowest my fear of Pedro, and that he says 
 he will take my Concha away from me and give 
 her to the sisters in Hermosa, if I listen any more 
 to the beautiful stories the little maestro, tells. 
 Tell me, Son of Mary, what shall I do ? " 
 
 "You miserable little dogs!" screamed Don 
 Gregorio, when he came within calling distance 
 of his reprobate little flock, gathered outside of 
 Mary's door ; " I'll teach you how to sing another 
 tune, that the little hypocrite in there knows 
 nothing of. Come, come, I say, every one of you, 
 and I shall give you a singing lesson of my own 
 this morning." 
 
 " Poor little ones, poor little men ! " sighed 
 Mary to herself, as she closed the organ and 
 opened her Bible for the morning lesson. Before 
 she found her place for reading, sharp cries 
 sounded across the road as the schoolmaster's 
 keen lash fell swiftly upon the shrinking shoulders 
 of one after another of the weeping children who 
 had been caught in such dire disgrace. Don Gre- 
 gorio and each small victim stood in full view of 
 Mary and her band of adorers, on the opposite 
 side of the street, and the sight proving too inter- 
 esting to her children, she arose and closed the 
 door ; opening for light and air another, which 
 looked out over the sunny prairie stretching 
 toward the west.
 
 20 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 The sclioolhouse consisted of but one small 
 room, with the customary dirt floor now worn 
 into holes here and there by the dripping of 
 water from the leaky roof in the rainy season. 
 The room was also used as a meeting-house 6n 
 Sundays for the Protestant people of the ranch, 
 and was filled with rough wooden benches, and 
 lighted by the two doors during the day, and by 
 two or three kerosene lamps by night. 
 
 Mary's pupils filled two long benches, and had 
 numbered nineteen until this morning, when 
 Juanito made the twentieth. She took her seat 
 in a low splint-bottomed chair, and opened her 
 Bible, while her little scholars were all attention, 
 for the cries across the way had ceased when she 
 closed the door. Drawing Juanito close to her 
 side, she read, slowly and clearly, the first seven- 
 teen verses of the tenth chapter of John, and 
 then all joined with her in repeating, " Our 
 Father." After this Mary offered a short, simple 
 prayer of her own, in which she mentioned the 
 new scholar's name. 
 
 When they arose from their knees, Juanito's 
 bright eyes were fixed upon hers, and he laid a 
 small hand upon her knee. 
 
 "Senorita," said he, boldly, " to whom were 
 you talking about me? You said 'Juanito,' and 
 there is no other Juanito here," looking up and 
 down the line of girl faces, and pausing at the 
 end of a bench where Carlos was sitting.
 
 A MOUNTAIN WAIF. 21 
 
 " I was telling our Father about you, little one," 
 replied she, " and I asked that he would bless you 
 and make you a good, obedient scholar, so that 
 you might grow to be a great and useful man." 
 
 " Our Father is God, Juan," interposed Carlos. 
 " Thou knowest nothing yet, but the senorita will 
 teach thee." 
 
 " I know that thou art a little fool, Carlitos," 
 returned Juanito ; " every one says so, and I shall 
 not stay here to be taught by thee" And throw- 
 ing an indignant look upon his small associate, he 
 was marching from the room. 
 
 "So you will leave us, Juanito," asked Mary, 
 briskly, "just when we were going to look at 
 some beautiful pictures of the most wonderful 
 animals in the world ? Well,' ' she continued, " be 
 sure and tell your mamma just how it was, and 
 tell her that I am sorry you did not like to stay 
 with us. Come, children," she continued, as she 
 saw that the little fellow still lingered at the door, 
 "you may each ask one question about the first 
 picture, and we shall begin with Carlos, because 
 he is the only boy we have at school to-day." 
 This was said with a sorrowful glance at the 
 already repentant Juan outside. 
 
 She then stepped to the end wall of the room 
 and hung a brilliantly colored print of an elephant 
 prancing through an Indian jungle, with very 
 minute Indian huntsmen crouching behind the 
 trees and grasses. By this time, Juan stood just
 
 22 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 within the doorway and was devouring the bright 
 picture with eager eyes, the other children being 
 too absorbed in watching the teacher's movements 
 to notice him. 
 
 "Now, Carlos," she said. And stepping near 
 where Juan stood, she laid her hand upon his 
 black curls. Question after question followed 
 from the gay little class, and Mary's wits were 
 kept busy answering the very wise, and often very 
 foolish, queries that were put to her. Even Juan 
 forgot himself so far as to ask if the elephant could 
 swirn, that art being the height of an ambition of 
 his own as yet unattained. After the picture had 
 been thoroughly discussed, the day's studies were 
 begun with blackboard and slate exercises in 
 arithmetic. Other lessons followed until the 
 hubbub of the men returning from their work 
 announced the hour of twelve, and then Mary 
 dismissed her little school and all went to their 
 respective homes for the two hours of intermission 
 before the afternoon session. Mary walked with 
 Juanito to his mother's door, where they found 
 Dona Martina Vera eagerly awaiting them. 
 
 " Well, maestra," she cried, " will he do ? Will 
 my boy learn, and will he be a great man ? " 
 
 4 'Ah, Dona Martina," was the reply, " how can 
 I tell? Let him come to me every day, and I 
 shall teach him and he will learn, and God will 
 make him a good man, if he wishes to be good, 
 and that is better than being great." She nodded
 
 A MOUNTAIN WAIF. 23 
 
 pleasantly to the woman and went on to her own 
 house farther along. 
 
 Then Juanito recounted every incident of the 
 day, dwelling with particular emphasis upon his 
 encounter with Carlos, the son of one of the mem- 
 bers of the little Baptist church. He and his 
 whole family were held in great contempt by most 
 of the Vera family, and for a moment the mother 
 clenched her hand and was on the point of pouring 
 forth a torrent of abuse upon the absent one's 
 head, when she remembered her newly awakened 
 ambition for Juan, and changing her manner, she 
 said: 
 
 ' ' Well, never mind Carlos, my only one ; be 
 more attentive than he, study harder than he, and 
 thou wilt be a greater man than he. Now, tell 
 me of the senorita ; thou lovest her already, my 
 son?" 
 
 "Ah, yes," he replied. "She is not cross as 
 thou art, sometimes ; and mother, she talked to 
 some one who was not there about me, and said 
 that I must be obedient, and that then I should 
 be a great man. I ain glad, for I am so tired of 
 being small, and I wish to be called Juan, not 
 Juanito" 1 
 
 Meanwhile, Miss Summers had reached the 
 great gateway leading into the courtyard of Don 
 Eduardo's house, where she was spending her first 
 year of mission life. She crossed the sunny space 
 
 1 John, not Johnny.
 
 24 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 between the gate and the door of her room very 
 thoughtfully, and upon entering the dim little 
 anteroom which led into her bedroom, she sat 
 down in the first chair in her way, threw off her 
 large shade hat, and resting her chin in the palm 
 of her hand and her elbow on the table, fell into 
 deep thought. In some respects, this fair October 
 day, which had dawned bright and cloudless as 
 all the other days of her stay at San Bernabe*, gave 
 promise of better things than she had dreamed of 
 after the first few disappointing weeks of her life 
 at the ranch. 
 
 Until to-day, her little school, the object of so 
 much prayer and thought, had consisted only of 
 the children of the baptized members of the small 
 band of Protestants in the ranch ; and while she 
 labored joyfully with these, and had already en- 
 deared herself to the parents by her untiring care 
 for the small brown bodies, as well as for the 
 diminutive brains of their children, her own heart 
 was aching over the "oppressed" mothers and 
 daughters in the Roman Catholic faith, who had 
 yet to realize the burdens oppressing them before 
 they could be taught to even desire to enter the 
 ''glorious liberty of the sons of God." Now to- 
 day, Juanito Vera had been given to her, and the 
 recollection of his bright, brown eyes and the 
 warm clasp of the little hand gave her a happy 
 thrill of thankfulness. 
 
 " He shall love me," she exclaimed aloud, "and
 
 A MOUNTAIN WAIF. 25 
 
 through him I shall enter his mother's house, and 
 through him I shall gain his mother's heart. I 
 must work patiently and slowly." She raised 
 her head as she spoke and became aware of a soft, 
 dark eye fixed upon her from a small opening in 
 the door, which served to let a little light into the 
 windowless room. As she was about to speak, the 
 eye and a shock of black hair were hastily with- 
 drawn, and a clatter of dishes and tongues outside 
 the door drowned her words of inquiry. 
 
 " The senorita ! What dost thou want with the 
 senorita ? And who art thou, putting thyself and 
 thy rags into this house ? Dost thou not know 
 that this is Don Eduardo's house, and that the 
 dogs of rancheros stay outside unless invited to 
 enter?" 
 
 The door was thrown hastily open and a young 
 Mexican woman entered, bearing a waiter of cov- 
 ered dishes on one arm, while with the other she 
 kept off a poor, emaciated creature, who tried to 
 follow her into the room. 
 
 ' ' Quick ! Help me shut the door, Senorita 
 Maria, or she will get in, and she is not fit " 
 
 " Stand aside, Petra," returned Miss Summers, 
 " and let me see who it is. Why, she is starving, 
 poor thing; only look at these poor arms and 
 hands ! " And she bent, almost in tears, over the 
 form of a young girl who had fallen prostrate 
 across the threshold. 
 
 " Then, why did she not go to the kitchen, if
 
 26 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 she wanted food? Go," she said, not unkindly, 
 " to the cocinaf and I will give thee food, as soon 
 as I have arranged the senorita's dinner." 
 
 " No, no ! " gasped the girl. " The maestro, 
 I came over the mountain I am sick She 
 
 will cure me " She caught at Mary's dress 
 
 with her dirty, claw-like fingers, and then fainted 
 away. Petra, whose heart was not so hard as her 
 words, brought the water that Mary called for, and 
 bathed the poor dusty face and hands, while the 
 teacher went to her medicine closet and poured a 
 small quantity of a cordial into a glass. Mixing 
 this with a little water, she gave it, a spoonful at a 
 time, to the girl, who was already reviving, and 
 in a few moments was able to raise her head and 
 look about her. 
 
 "Now, Petra," said Miss Summers, "help me 
 to carry her inside, and then we will give her a 
 little soup, and she will sleep." 
 
 " Impossible, senorita, " replied Petra, who, as 
 eldest daughter of the house and faithful wor- 
 shiper of the young foreigner, resented what she 
 considered such an intrusion. " Let me take her 
 with me. She can rest on my petate." 
 
 A look of pathetic appeal came from the sad, 
 brown eyes, lifted to hers from the floor, and 
 another clutch of the wasted fingers at her skirts 
 decided Mary, and she told Petra to bring in a 
 clean, new petate (a sleeping mat, woven soft and 
 
 1 Kitchen.
 
 A MOUNTAIN WAIF. 27 
 
 thick), and together they lifted the slight form 
 and placed it upon the mat, in a cool corner of 
 the outer room. Here the poor creature lay, 
 watching Mary with great, hungry eyes, as she 
 crumbled a bit of bread into a cup of the broth 
 which formed a part of her own dinner. Then, 
 Petra having returned to her kitchen and the 
 family dinner, Mary closed the door, and taking a 
 low stool, sat beside the famished girl and slowly 
 fed her from the cup of broth. The last spoon- 
 ful was hardly swallowed before the heavy eye- 
 lids closed and the girl slept. 
 
 Then the young teacher sat down to her own 
 dinner, tired and hungry, with the appetite that 
 comes sometimes to healthy young people, after a 
 busy morning's work. The snowy cloth and 
 napkin, white china plate, silver knife and fork, 
 and dainty goblet were among the few simple 
 luxuries which the young missionary allowed 
 herself in her far-away Mexican home, and in- 
 congruous as they often seemed, with the some- 
 times unappetizing Mexican food supplied from 
 the kitchen of her host, she never omitted the 
 smallest detail of her pretty table-service. Set- 
 ting aside the remaining broth for the sick girl's 
 needs, later on, she ate the toasted tortillas and 
 baked beans, the deliciously prepared rice, and a 
 dish of scrambled eggs, ending with a glass of 
 goat's milk and a bit of goat's-milk cheese, and 
 then pushed back her chair, wondering what she
 
 28 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 was to do with her helpless-looking protkgb, 
 while absent at the afternoon school. 
 
 Who was she? Why had she come to her? 
 were questions unanswerable so long as that deep 
 sleep held her motionless and speechless. 
 
 When Petra returned for the dishes, she brought 
 a pan of hot water, which she placed on a side 
 table, and while gathering up the remains of the 
 dinner, she examined the new-comer with half- 
 unfavorable eyes. Mary was silently washing 
 her plate, knife, and fork in the water which 
 Petra had brought, watching quietly on her part 
 the face of the good-natured Mexican woman, 
 who she knew would not long hold out against 
 the pitiful creature in the corner. 
 
 Petra spoke first, and softly : 
 
 "She looks very tired, sefiorita. What shall 
 we do with her? " 
 
 "I^eave her where she is, for the present," re- 
 plied Mary, as softly. " She will probably sleep 
 all the afternoon. When she wakes she must 
 have a bath and something clean to put on, in 
 the place of these rags. After that she will tell 
 me what she wants of me." 
 
 " A bath, sefiorita, and she so weak and sick ; 
 it will kill her ! " 
 
 " No, Petrita. You will see that it will not 
 kill her. And you will help me about this, I am 
 sure. Get one of the boys to draw water for the 
 bath, and in a few hours the sun will warm it
 
 A MOUNTAIN WAIF. 2Q 
 
 nicely. By the time I return from school it will 
 be ready and she will probably be awake. Let 
 her sleep, Petra, I have no medicine so good for 
 her in my closet as this sleep will be. Be so kind 
 as to look in upon her occasionally, while I am 
 away. And remember, my dear," she concluded, 
 "this poor creature may be one of the 'very 
 least ' of the Lord's servants, of whom we were 
 reading last night, and we could not hesitate to 
 do it for him, if he lay there sick and travel- 
 worn, would we?" 
 
 "At least let me lock the door between your 
 rooms, senorita mia" said Petra. " For we 
 really do not know who she is, and it can do her 
 no harm. Yes, I'll look after her," she con- 
 tinued, more graciously, lifting the waiter from 
 the table, " and I suppose she will have to stay 
 where she is for the present, though I would 
 rather have her out of here. Senorita, you do 
 not understand. Her clothing is full of animals, 
 and " 
 
 " Never mind now," returned Mary, with a 
 shudder. " We will attend to all that when she 
 awakes. Close the door and leave her now, and 
 I must hurry off to school." 
 
 A hot wind was blowing over the plains, and 
 the glare from the road was so blinding that 
 Mary almost stumbled along the short stretch 
 that lay between her rooms and the schoolroom. 
 Juanito was shyly awaiting her as she passed his
 
 30 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 cottage, but his hand was unwashed and greasy 
 now, and the little, coarse white shirt that had 
 been immaculate in the morning, showed signs 
 of " bean gravy " down its front. Nothing, how- 
 ever, could dim the brightness of the eyes lifted 
 to hers, and she sent him gayly on ahead of her 
 to ring the bell that was hung between two posts, 
 just outside the schoolroom door. The children 
 were a little less punctual than in the morning, 
 and only a dozen finally collected in the hot, little 
 room, and settled restlessly on the hard benches 
 in front of Mary's chair and table. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! Sara, why did you bring the 
 baby?" exclaimed Mary, as a fretful cry sounded 
 from beneath the cotton scarf thrown around the 
 head and shoulders of the largest of the girls, a 
 child of thirteen years. " You know I told you to 
 stay at home with him if you could not leave him, 
 for you cannot study with him in your arms, and 
 he makes all the rest laugh. You would better 
 take him home, Sara." 
 
 " Oh, senorita," protested the child, " he will 
 be quiet to-day, because he is sick. He has hardly 
 cried at all to-day, mamma says, and she told me 
 to bring him because she had to go to the river, 
 and papa is very drunk to-day, and I was afraid 
 to "stay." 
 
 " Herculano drunk again ! " said the teacher, 
 with a sigh. " Well, stay, of course ; but if the baby 
 cries, you must take him out in the shade. Per-
 
 A MOUNTAIN WAIF. 3! 
 
 haps he will sleep, poor thing ! " she murmured, 
 as she turned back the shawl and saw the pale 
 face of the sick child, a pretty baby of a year. 
 
 He did sleep soon, and Sara laid him on the 
 floor, with her scarf for a pillow. By-and-by he 
 awaked, and grew so restless that Mary was forced 
 to dismiss them from the room for the remaining 
 hour of lessons. 
 
 She made the exercises as simple and interest- 
 ing as possible that afternoon, and at four o'clock 
 the children gathered about her, each eager to 
 repeat the Bible verse learned the afternoon be- 
 fore. 
 
 When Juan's turn came, she was about to teach 
 him a short verse, when, to her amazement, he 
 opened his red lips and repeated one of the verses 
 she had read to the children in the morning : 
 " Yo soy el buen pastor : el pastor su alma da por 
 las ovejas." l 
 
 " Juanito' s papa is a shepherd, senorita," ex- 
 plained the irrepressible Carlos. ' ' That is why 
 he likes that verse." 
 
 "And who is the Good Shepherd, Juanito?" 
 asked Mary tenderly of the little boy. 
 
 " My papa is a shepherd, but he is not good," 
 replied Juanito, sadly. 
 
 " You asked me this morning to whom I was 
 talking about you in the prayer ; you remember, 
 
 1 " I am the good shepherd ; the good shepherd gives his life for 
 the sheep."
 
 32 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 Juanito. It was the Good Shepherd, dear, a"nd 
 you are to be one of his little lambs, one of the 
 new little lambs, because you are just beginning to 
 learn about him. Now, before we go home, we 
 will sing about this Good Shepherd. All of you 
 know the first verse by heart. Come." 
 
 "Oh, I am glad we shall sing that song," 
 said Sara, who had returned at the first sign of 
 bustle in the room, " because little brother likes 
 it so much. He always knows when I sing it." 
 And she hugged the small figure in her arms, and 
 no weariness showed in her face, although her 
 thin arms must have ached, small as their burden 
 was. In truth, the baby did look brighter, and 
 waved his arms in the air approvingly, as the 
 children's voices joined in the song, which was 
 the twenty-third Psalm in easy rhyme : 
 
 " Jesus es mi pastor 
 Nada me faltara. 
 Su deleitosa paz, 
 Me regocija ya," etc. 
 
 As she locked the schoolhouse door when the 
 children were gone, a dismal chanting sound 
 issued from the opposite schoolroom, and again 
 she sighed, " Poor little fellows ! " as she remem- 
 bered that an hour or two more would be required 
 of them in that dingy room while the master 
 slept, to be awakened by any cessation in the 
 sleepy droning of the scholars.
 
 SARA AMD HER LITTLE BROTHER. Page 32.
 
 A MOUNTAIN WAIF. 33 
 
 "I wish it was to-morrow already, maestra" 
 said Juanito, as she was leaving him at his door. 
 " You will call me Juan always, will you not, 
 senorita?" he added. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, little man," she replied. "Adiosj- 
 Juan, and be ready to ring the bell for me to- 
 morrow," she called, as she hurried away. 
 
 1 Good-bye.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE WAIF'S STORY. 
 
 Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my 
 brethren, ye have done it unto me. Matt. 25 : 40. 
 
 r THE sick girl lifted her head as Mary entered 
 1 the room where she lay, and a lovely smile 
 broke over her face. Mary nodded cheerfully to 
 her and, then without speaking, lighted a small 
 oil stove standing on the side table. Then, after 
 pouring the remains of the broth into a tin pan 
 and setting it on the stove, she went into the bed- 
 room which opened out of the other. From a 
 trunk she selected a complete suit of clothing, 
 half- worn, yet whole and clean. These, with a 
 cake of soap and towels, she carried out to the cur- 
 tained corner of the yard, where stood the bath, 
 an immense earthenware tub, full of sun-warmed 
 water. Leaving the articles in care of Petra, who 
 was sitting with her sewing near by, awaiting the 
 victim of the bath, the young teacher returned to 
 the house and found the broth hot and the invalid 
 sitting up, watching the steaming pan with eager 
 eyes. 
 
 " You may feed yourself this time," said Mary, 
 handing her a cupful of the soup and a couple of 
 
 34
 
 THE WAIF'S STORY. 35 
 
 tortillas ; "then you may rest again for an hour 
 before taking your bath." 
 
 Mary then busied herself in the inner room for 
 a while and left the sick girl again in quiet. 
 
 When Petra came to report that all was ready, 
 and that she had added a little hot water to take 
 the chill from the bath, the girl arose feebly and, 
 with Petra's assistance, disappeared behind the 
 curtains. Mary smiled as she realized what the 
 extent of her influence must be to induce a sick 
 Mexican to walk uncomplainingly to a bath tub. 
 The use of water in sickness is considered by 
 them to be very dangerous, the hands and face of 
 a fever patient being left unwashed for weeks. 
 And even in health, though in most Mexican 
 towns there are ample and luxurious public baths, 
 the average citizen considers the weekly bath 
 sufficient. 
 
 A very subdued, though very clean, young girl 
 limped back to her mat a half-hour later. Her 
 black hair hung in long, wet strings over her 
 shoulders, and Mary found her face and hands so 
 chilled, and her lips so cold and bloodless, that she 
 administered a little more of the cordial and water. 
 
 Then she learned from her the following simple 
 story, which was supplemented by facts learned 
 months afterward from the missionary himself: 
 
 A month before, Mr. Richards, the senior mis- 
 sionary, having his headquarters at S , the 
 
 city of which San Bernabe was a branch mission,
 
 36 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 had passed through the little hamlet of I/as Bellas 
 Flores, on the opposite side of the. mountain 
 bounding San Bernabe on the east. Here he had 
 held a preaching service in the evening, as was 
 his custom on his mission tours, whenever a room 
 and lights could be had. He had been attracted 
 by the sight of a feeble, emaciated girl who 
 crouched on the floor near the door and eagerly 
 listened to the songs and to his simple sermon. 
 After the sermon, he had made inquiries of his 
 host in whose house he had preached and learned 
 that the girl was Refugio Aguirre, and that she 
 was an orphan, living with cousins, who, as was 
 evident from the girl's condition of body and dress, 
 were none too willing to give her support. Some 
 even said that Refugio was but half-witted, and 
 was not worth the scraps of tortillas thrown to 
 her every day by her grudging relatives. This 
 intelligence surprised Mr. Richards very much, 
 for he thought he had discovered, as the most 
 redeeming traits of the Mexican character, their 
 loyalty to blood relations and charity to suffering 
 friends. 
 
 "Oh," remarked the host, when Mr. Richards 
 had expressed this surprise to him, " this case is 
 different We do not know exactly how it is, for 
 the Aguirres are silent folks ; but the fault is not 
 Refugio's, though only she is left to bear the 
 blame. Now they say that she is going into a 
 decline, but my wife says that it is only hunger
 
 THE WAIF'S STORY. 37 
 
 that pinches her cheeks, and tmhappiness that 
 gives the stupid look to her eyes. She has been 
 taught to read, but little good that does one when 
 the stomach is always empty." 
 
 " Poor child ! " said the missionary. " Here 
 would be work for Miss Summers, if only a 
 mountain did not stand in the way." 
 
 The next day, as he -stepped out into the sunny 
 plaza upon which his host's door opened, he 
 almost stumbled over what at first seemed a heap 
 of rags lying beyond the door sill. 
 
 "Ah, Refugio mia!" he exclaimed, recognizing 
 in a moment the soft, liquid eyes raised appeal- 
 ingly to his own. ' ' What are you doing, little 
 one, lying on the ground? Come with me, and 
 while we sit upon the seat in the plaza, you will 
 tell me what ails you." 
 
 Her first question, as they sat side by side near 
 the brink of the little dripping fountain, was a 
 surprise. 
 
 " Would he cure me too, that man, and would 
 he help me to sin no more, maestro? " 
 
 Seeing that the girl must be thinking of the 
 simple discourse of the night before, he humored 
 her direct simplicity and followed her lead with- 
 out further introduction. 
 
 ' ' Certainly, my dear child. If he were walking 
 right by us now, and if you should ask him to 
 cure you, he could do so, and I have no doubt he 
 would."
 
 38 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 " But lie is not here," she replied. " You said 
 that he is dead. Oh, I do not want him to be 
 dead ; I want to be well ! " she moaned. 
 
 "Did you suppose that the Lord Jesus is really 
 dead, Refugio? But then you have only seen the 
 form of the dead Jesus on the cross," he added. 
 
 "Jesus! Yes," replied the girl, scornfully. 
 " Much good he has ever done me ! Were you 
 telling us about him last night? If I had known 
 that, I would not have stayed a moment," she 
 ended, passionately. 
 
 " But I called him by the names by which we 
 know our Lord, Refugio. You heard me? " 
 
 "Oh, yes, you spoke of Jesus; of course one 
 must in a sermon ; but you also told of a man 
 who loved bad, sick people more than he loved 
 himself, who touched them with his own hands 
 when they were foul with disease, and who talked 
 with them when they were so wicked that even 
 their own relations would have nothing to do with 
 them. And I knew that could not be Jesus, for 
 he is only a picture or a piece of wood shaped like 
 a man, and he is always so angry that the Mary 
 mother has to beg him to let us enter heaven 
 where he is. Now, / would rather go where the 
 others go, even if it be to the infierno? than to 
 have to beg my way to heaven of Mary." 
 
 "Ah," thought Mr. Richards, as the girl paused 
 for breath, and then left his side to seize the tin 
 
 * Hell.
 
 THE WAIF'S STORY. 39 
 
 dipper hanging by the fountain and drink fever- 
 ishly of the clear, cold water, "what depths of 
 neglect have brought this child to such a condi- 
 tion and such thoughts ! If her relations do not 
 care any more for her than they seem to have 
 done, they will be glad to be rid of her, and I 
 shall find some means of carrying her to Miss 
 Summers on my next trip through here." 
 
 Then, when the girl returned to his side, he, as 
 gently and as simply as possible, tried to remove 
 her great misconception of the character of the 
 Saviour, and made her promise that she would 
 pray to him and to him alone until he should see 
 her again. He told her of the beautiful young 
 lady across the mountain at San Bernabe, of how 
 she loved the Mexican women, of her skill in 
 nursing the sick, and of the beautiful songs she 
 sang. 
 
 " The Saviour is dead, Refugio, as you say ; 
 that is, he is not here in the body as he was when 
 he went about on the earth doing good, but he 
 still lives in heaven and in Christian people like 
 the Seiiorita Maria. She could teach you better 
 than I. Would you like to go to San Bernabe 
 and live with her, and learn to be like her and 
 help her to do the Saviour's work ? " 
 
 " Oh, I should almost die of happiness ! " gasped 
 the poor girl. 
 
 The missionary now saw that his horse and 
 servant were ready, and after promising Refugio
 
 40 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 that it should not be many weeks before he should 
 see the Seiiorita Maria, he had to leave her. 
 
 "But I could not wait, senorita," continued 
 Refugio from her mat, where she sat hugging her 
 knees and gazing into Miss Summers' sympathetic 
 face. ( ' I prayed to the Lord every day, oh, many 
 times a day, and his voice seemed to be always 
 calling me to go over the mountain to find you. 
 Then I hid the scraps of food my tia (aunt) gave 
 me each day until I had a handkerchief full of 
 them, and one day I started off without saying 
 anything to anybody. I heard a girl calling to 
 me as she stood at the fountain filling her jarro 
 (jar) with water: 'Where art thou going, crazy 
 Cuca ? ' But I pretended not to hear her ; and 
 then I walked and walked till I fell down with 
 weariness, and all night I coughed." 
 
 "You poor girl !" said Mary, taking the thin 
 hand in hers and softly stroking it. ' ' How long 
 were you on the way ? " 
 
 ' ' Who knows ? " she replied. ' ' I walked when 
 I could, sometimes in the day, sometimes in the 
 night. One whole day and night, I know, I lay 
 under a great pine tree, and had not the strength 
 to crack \hzpinones 1 that covered the ground, and 
 that would have been such fine food. I followed 
 the road always, and to-day, when I came in sight 
 of the houses, I think I fainted, for afterward I 
 found myself lying in a large briar bush, and I do 
 
 1 A small nut borne by the pine tree.
 
 THE WAIF'S STORY. 41 
 
 not know how I came there. Then I prayed to 
 God to give ine the strength to get here, for 
 though I did not know, I was almost sure that 
 this was San Bernabe. And so I found you, 
 senorita. You will not send me back again ? ' ' 
 she cried, her eyes dilating with dread as this new 
 possibility was thrust upon her. 
 
 " No, indeed, Refugio," replied her friend, "for 
 I believe, like you, that God has sent you to ine. 
 And if you will do what I tell you, I feel that you 
 will grow strong and well once more. Now, if 
 your hair is dry, lie down again until supper time, 
 and I shall go and speak to Dona Raquel about 
 keeping you here with me." 
 
 Miss Summers found Raquel on her knees be- 
 fore the meiatc, a slightly hollowed out stone, 
 upon which with another stone, she was knead- 
 ing the masa 1 for the supper tortillas. 
 
 Dona Raquel was Eduardo's wife, and was a 
 fine-looking specimen of the Mexican country- 
 woman. She looked up with pleasure as Mary 
 addressed her, and Petra, hearing her voice, ap- 
 peared in the kitchen doorway. After hearing 
 the teacher's account of the new anival, and after 
 some discussion between mother and daughter, 
 Dona Raquel agreed that Refugio should sleep on 
 a mat in Petra's room, and that she should take 
 her meals in the Vera kitchen. 
 
 " When she is stronger, she will help you, 
 
 1 Dough made from the crushed corn.
 
 42 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 Petra, in bringing my meals and in caring for my 
 rooms." To this remark, Petra's only reply was 
 a grunt, that showed lack of appreciation, to say 
 the least. 
 
 "She is nothing but bones," declared Petra, 
 after a pause. " Her skin must be tough to hold 
 them together. But she is clean now," she added, 
 grimly, "though I think you will have to let me 
 cut off her hair, senorita. Her head is full of 
 sores, which cannot be cured with that heavy suit 
 of hair." 
 
 " Of course, it must be done," replied Miss Sum- 
 mers, with a shiver. " We must attend to that to- 
 morrow. Now she must rest as she is half-dead 
 with fatigue. Give her as much milk as she can 
 drink for her supper, please," she finished, "with 
 bread and an egg, but nothing fried or greasy, and 
 then she can go to bed in your room. And Petra," 
 she added, as she drew nearer the woman who stood 
 in the kitchen doorway, " I think you need not 
 lock the door between my rooms again. I ani 
 not afraid 'that our little guest will harm anything, 
 for I am sure the Lord has sent her to you and 
 me, and we shall begin by trusting her." With 
 a bright smile the young teacher left them to 
 their work, and crossing the court went out of the 
 gateway, and soon left the ranch behind her, as 
 she walked toward the prairie edge for her custom- 
 ary evening stroll. 
 
 " Ah, she is a beauty ! " exclaimed Raquel,
 
 THE WAIF'S STORY. 43 
 
 rapturously, as she looked admiringly after her. 
 1 ' The holy virgin must have looked like her. And 
 the Mary Mother herself could not have a kinder 
 heart. Do you know, Petra, although she is a Pro- 
 testant, I wake in the night sometimes and feel that 
 we have a saint under our roof. And the thought 
 of her sweet face drives away the old fears of trouble 
 that I have had for so long. The virgin will not 
 let any harm come to thy father and thy brothers 
 now that an angel stays with us and guards us. 
 What thinkest thou?" 
 
 " That thou art half a Protestant already, mad- 
 recita" 1 answered Petra, laughing as she turned 
 back to her kitchen fire. " Hast thou thought 
 what thy confession will be when Padre Esteban 
 comes here again? What will he say to the 
 pretty Protestant gringa ? 2 That is what I am 
 thinking of, while we go on worshiping her, bless 
 her heart ! " 
 
 Raquel only shook her head, and went on with 
 her grinding. Petra hummed an evening song to 
 the virgin, to which her mother's steady strokes 
 kept time. Little Benjamin, just three years old, 
 and the idol of his aged father, tumbled in the 
 sand with a couple of puppies, while chickens, 
 pigs, and ducks roamed peacefully about the court. 
 Refugio, in her corner, with the door opened upon 
 the peaceful scene, thought she was in heaven. 
 Catching up Miss Summers' handkerchief, which 
 
 1 Little mother. a Foreigner.
 
 44 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 had fallen near her, she pressed it to her lips, and 
 then closing her eyes in utter content, again fell 
 asleep. She waked with difficulty for her supper, 
 to which Petra, half led, half carried her, and was 
 hardly installed again on her inat in Petra's little 
 room, before she sank into the most profound and 
 health-giving slumber, and she did not wake until 
 the Inorning.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 LOOKING BACKWARD. 
 
 You must need 
 
 Be more earnest than other men are, 
 Speed where they loiter, persist where they cease. 
 
 THE sun was sending long golden rays straight 
 across the prairie as it seemed to be poised 
 for a moment just at the horizon line, where there 
 came a break in the hills. Mary shaded her eyes 
 with her hand as she faced the dazzling ball, and 
 stumbled on unseeing, tripping now and again 
 over the little hillocks scattered far and wide over 
 the plain. The hot October day was ending, and 
 the young woman had left the ranch far behind 
 her and had wandered out over the plain stretch- 
 ing westward, in search of a whiff of fresh air, 
 free from the dust and the closeness which had 
 clogged her ill-ventilated little schoolroom all day. 
 The sun dropped out of sight and instantly a 
 shady coolness spread over the scene. The great 
 mountains in the east rose immediately behind 
 the large ranch of San Bernabe, and the range 
 extended at varying heights north and south, 
 completely encircling the vast plain, except in the 
 west. Here the two extremities of the range swept 
 
 45
 
 46 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 aside and apart from each other, leaving an unin- 
 terrupted view of the western sky to the horizon 
 line. Mary sank down on the absolutely dry sand 
 of the prairie and took off her hat that the even- 
 ing breeze might cool her heated brow and flushed 
 cheeks. It had been an unusually hard day, but 
 the soft colors of the sunset sky, the refreshing 
 wind, and the cheery barking of the prairie dogs 
 almost at her elbow, easily diverted into more 
 cheerful channels the current of her thoughts. 
 
 "As the mountains are round about Jerusalem," 
 she murmured, clasping her hands over her knees 
 and fixing an earnest gaze upon the blue-black 
 summits behind the ranch. " San Beruabe" is not 
 Jerusalem," she continued, smiling a little, as her 
 gaze shifted to the flat, dirt-covered roofs of the 
 little one-storied houses forming the ranch ; "but 
 the Lord is round about his people everywhere, 
 and surely there are some who are his even here." 
 
 She was speaking aloud now, in the security 
 that the utter silence and loneliness of the plain 
 gave her. She had learned to talk much to her- 
 self during these months of her isolated life at the 
 ra'nch. As she sat in the gloaming which was 
 stealing over her, while the colors of the sky 
 paled to a soft, silky blue, shot in the west with a 
 rosy pink, and the mountains loomed larger and 
 darker opposite, her thoughts sped back over 
 months of time and leagues of distance, and, as if 
 by the powerful gleam of a search light, the way
 
 LOOKING BACKWARD. 47 
 
 by which she had come was shown in all its 
 changing lights and shadows. 
 
 She had not been a remarkably good child, 
 although she could never remember the time when 
 she did not long "to be good." Reared in a 
 Christian home, where piety was expressed more 
 in the doing than in the saying, the religious 
 sentiment had taken deep hold of her childish 
 conscience and imagination long before the older 
 ones had begun to realize that she could be con- 
 scious of the worth of a soul. 
 
 Her dear old grandfather allowed her to play at 
 his feet with her dolls under his great writing 
 desk, never guessing that after tucking " Patty " 
 and " Willie " and the rest away for oft-repeated 
 and convenient slumbers, the small mother would 
 cuddle silently beside them, going over in her 
 mind questions like these: "Who am I? How 
 am I different from my doll Patty ? Who made 
 me different? " 
 
 The parable of the prosperous farmer whose 
 barns would not hold his crops always impressed 
 little Mary most vividly. " This night thy soul 
 shall be required of thee," seemed words too awful 
 to be spoken aloud. What was this thing, the 
 taking of which was to cause dire confusion and 
 ruin to the poor man's plans? Had she one? 
 Yes; the "Hymns for Infant Minds" all taught 
 that. What was it? Had it wings? Was she 
 afraid of it ?
 
 48 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 Her father had died when Mary was but a baby, 
 and the grandfather's house became the home of 
 the widowed mother and orphaned children. 
 Mother and brother and sister soon followed the 
 father, but Mary lived on in the dear old home 
 where the crab apples bloomed and the asparagus 
 sprouted and the violets scented the air, year after 
 year, until only the grandmother remained of all 
 the loved home circle, and the yellow-haired 
 maiden grew to young womanhood. Always the 
 questions crowded thick and fast in the busy brain 
 through the years of study ; at first in the home, 
 seated on the little cricket at grandmother's feet ; 
 then in college halls, where she spent four years 
 of earnest effort ; and then, when all was com- 
 pleted, and she came home to her own pleasant 
 chamber up among the boughs of the apricot 
 trees, she found the questions still unanswered. 
 
 The questions were different now. They ran 
 more like this: "All is mine youth, health, edu- 
 cation, time, and a soul. What shall I do with 
 them? I am like the man whose barns were full. 
 And my soul will be required of me too, some day ; 
 that part of me that knows, that will live ; that 
 part which I can make great and beautiful, or 
 small and mean. Oh, I must study and I must 
 grow, and the soul that God has given me will go 
 back to him a finished, perfect thing when it has 
 done with the body." 
 
 So she built her barns and worked on, but some-
 
 LOOKING BACKWARD. 49 
 
 how her soul did not seem to grow, though no one 
 knew it but herself, for the grave-eyed, white- 
 browed young woman was as dear and necessary 
 in the lonely house as the quiet, sweet-faced child 
 had been. 
 
 After a while, Mary began to ask herself: 
 "What is it all for? To what purpose is all this 
 striving? Of my abundance should I not give 
 to those who lack? " 
 
 And one night, as she lay in her bed watching 
 the moonlight shimmering on the apricot leaves 
 outside of her window, she remembered the night 
 of her baptism, many years before. As her pastor 
 had raised her from the water, he had whispered : 
 4 'My child, from henceforth study the will of 
 your Master as the law of your life. What will 
 you do with the responsibilities he has put upon 
 you in making you what you are? " 
 
 There had been no time for an answer to the 
 question ; perhaps none was expected just then. 
 Now, as she lay thinking, amid the silence of the 
 great house, she knew that she must find an 
 answer to that question which really embodied 
 her heart's most earnest longing. 
 
 Before putting out the light, she had been read- 
 ing several chapters of the prophecy of Isaiah 
 concerning the coming kingdom of the Messiah, 
 and now, in a flash, certain clauses occurred to her 
 mind out of the verses just read : " To bind up the 
 broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, 
 
 D
 
 50 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 and the opening of the prison to them that are 
 bound ; ... to comfort all that mourn ; ... to 
 give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for 
 mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of 
 heaviness. ' ' What a career such would be ! 
 
 Mary started up in bed and in an instant stood 
 by the open window looking out into the glorious 
 moonlight. With clasped hands and eyes brim- 
 ming with tears she cried : 
 
 " Oh, my Master, here am I ! Do with me 
 according to thy will. I am thine alone and all I 
 have is thine. Send me, if it be thy will, 'to pro- 
 claim liberty to the captives.' " And she knelt, 
 sobbing, upon the floor by the window. 
 
 The morning broke and all the pleasant sounds 
 of the summer went on in trees and garden, while 
 Mary still slept. A quiet peace had succeeded the 
 excitement of the early hours of the night, and 
 she had fallen asleep some time after midnight, 
 with a fixed, cairn resolution to become a foreign 
 missionary. 
 
 There came no wavering the next day, nor the 
 next. Uncle Will Summers and his wife, whose 
 eyes .were sharper than grandmamma's, wondered 
 at the increased gentleness of the girl's demeanor 
 and the strange light in the dark eyes, which 
 seemed to have grown darker and more thought- 
 ful than ever in the past few days. These two 
 had come to make their home with Mrs. Summers 
 when Mary left for school, and a tiny little Mary
 
 LOOKING BACKWARD. 5! 
 
 had come to gladden the old house with the sound 
 of baby laughter, and by-and-by with the pattering 
 of baby feet. Mary felt that she could be the more 
 easily spared as this bit of a girl was fast taking 
 her place in the mind of the aged grandmother, 
 who lived over Mary's babyhood in the merry 
 deeds and lisping words of the second Mary. 
 
 Two years before, she had visited Mexico in com- 
 pany with a party of friends, and had been sadly im- 
 pressed by the degradation of the women and their 
 entire ignorance of the simplest laws of health, yet 
 infinitely more impressed by the utter thralldom in 
 which they were held by their superstitions, mis- 
 called religion. There had been only slight oppor- 
 tunities for judging of this, as her way had been 
 through the larger cities, where the vice and pov- 
 erty are somewhat hidden from the tourists' eyes, 
 and the days had been spent in visiting cathedrals, 
 museums, or ancient ruins. But she saw enough 
 of dirt and bodily disease to guess at the depths 
 of moral corruption which must have sway over 
 priest-ridden souls, and many a lovely bit of 
 scenery from the car window was spoiled for 
 her by some hard, evil woman's face lifted to 
 hers from the station platform, or by a glimpse 
 of some pitiful deformity in a little child, from 
 whose face even, innocence seemed to have flown. 
 Mary's friends laughed at her "sensibility" and 
 ridiculed her for her interest in the miserable 
 beggars thronging the railroad stations.
 
 2 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 " It is sin," she would say to herself, " that has 
 done it all. Generations of sin ; and the babies 
 must bear their fathers' and mothers' sins, before 
 they are old enough to feel their inherited ten- 
 dency to sin ! " Still, she had corne home after 
 this and had gradually ceased to think of it at all, 
 until that summer night when the message had 
 come to her " to give unto them beauty for ashes ; 
 ... to proclaim the opening of the prison to them 
 that are bound." 
 
 The Mexican women in their dirt, and sicknesses, 
 and sin seemed calling to her, and to Mexico she 
 resolved to go. 
 
 Friends had demurred at first, and grandmother 
 had wept tears of sorrow which were soon, how- 
 ever, wiped away in order to see and laugh over 
 the antics of Baby Mary ; but the Board had 
 gladly, if wonderingly, accepted the offer of Miss 
 Mary Summers, of Summers Hall, to be sent as 
 missionary teacher to the women and girls of 
 Mexico. They had made a rigid examination 
 into the young girl's creed, and her motives for 
 going to a foreign field, and among most satisfac- 
 tory answers, there were a few that were perhaps a 
 little startling to the members of the Board, com- 
 posed of staid ministers and deacons. One old 
 man, a senior deacon in her own church, had 
 asked: 
 
 "What first led you, Miss Mary, to think of 
 being a missionary at all ? "
 
 LOOKING BACKWARD. 53 
 
 "The thought of all that God has given me, 
 contrasted with the want and suffering of the 
 world. ' ' 
 
 " Humph, my dear young lady, and of all that 
 God has given you, what is it that you mean to 
 carry to your field of labor ? Your wealth ? You 
 know that it requires most judicious management 
 of money to make it serve the best purposes, 
 especially among a nation of beggars? " 
 
 " I shall not carry my wealth, sir, but only what 
 that has given to me and made of me. I shall 
 give myself ; I have had opportunities which others 
 have not had. These have troubled me with the 
 weight of responsibility which they have brought, 
 and I cannot rest. ' ' 
 
 "You are young," suggested the silver-haired 
 deacon, "and and beautiful," he was about to 
 say, but instead added, "and there is much to 
 attract you in your life at home. Can you give 
 it up?" 
 
 "I have given it up, already," she replied to 
 her old friend with a bright look. " I know I 
 shall miss many things, but I am ready to bear 
 what my Saviour did, for his sake. ' ' 
 
 "Why have you thought of Mexico, Miss 
 Mary?" 
 
 " Because I know something of the dreadful 
 condition of the women and girls in that country," 
 she returned. " Of course, I know of the moral 
 degradation caused by the Romish Church from
 
 54 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 reading and hearsay, but I have seen with my 
 eyes the physical suffering and want among the 
 poorer classes, and I wisli to go among these." 
 
 Then Miss Summers, in a few simple words, told 
 her plans for the next two years ; she would enter a 
 charity hospital, and take a two years' course in 
 nursing before going to Mexico, studying mean- 
 while the diseases peculiar to that country, and 
 to little children in general. 
 
 After some thoughtful discussion, the committee 
 approved this plan, and Miss Summers was ac- 
 cepted as missionary of the Mission Board, to enter 
 upon her work in Mexico at the end of two years. 
 
 The two years passed, and she had come to 
 
 Mexico, and spent one year in S , which was 
 
 the most promising of the Baptist mission sta- 
 tions ; where crowds attended the preaching of the 
 gospel ; where the mission school was well- 
 appointed, and every seat filled with children, 
 from the higher classes as well as from the lower ; 
 and where there was a large corps of mission 
 workers. For one year she had lived in the midst 
 of this busy hive, studying the Spanish language 
 and longing for some work to do. Every duty 
 was so accurately apportioned to each member of 
 the household, that there was nothing left for the 
 new-comer to do, and though her heart ached to 
 be able to speak to the natives, and tell them of 
 the love that had constrained her to come among 
 them, yet her ignorance of the language forbade
 
 LOOKING BACKWARD. 55 
 
 it. After several months of study, however, she 
 could use Spanish sufficiently to make herself 
 understood, and then at her earnest solicitation, 
 she was taken by a senior missionary on a mission- 
 ary tour of several ranch churches. San Bernabe 
 seemed to need her ; the little dirty, unkempt 
 children fell in love with her, the mothers held 
 her pretty soft hand, and told of troubles at home ; 
 and finally she begged to remain there, when the 
 missionary left to continue his travels. Reluct- 
 antly he had consented, convinced how great her 
 influence would be, in just such much-needed 
 work in the feeble little ranch church, yet not 
 convinced of the wisdom of leaving so young and 
 untried a person in the midst of such unpromising 
 circumstances. 
 
 Miss Summers' quiet determination and cheer- 
 ful arguments won the day, and he had driven off 
 one morning just as the sun appeared over the 
 crest of the mountain-top, leaving her figure stand- 
 ing out in the middle of the white, dusty road, 
 watching the creaking diligence, as long as there 
 was anything of it to be seen. The understand- 
 ing was that she was to return to the city, sixty 
 miles away across the plains, the next week if she 
 should become too lonely to bear the solitude. 
 The next diligence, however, bore no home-sick 
 
 girl to the college doors in S ; instead, a letter 
 
 arrived, begging that her trunks and books be sent 
 by the returning coach.
 
 56 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 Six months had passed, and the young mission- 
 ary sat alone on the prairie, with the night closing 
 around her, thinking of the last days in her home. 
 She almost wondered at her own strength of pur- 
 pose in giving up everything that had made the 
 beauty of her life, and accepting in its place, utter 
 uncongeniality, real privations and discomforts, 
 loneliness and discouragements never imagined 
 possible. Yet a smile hovered about her lips, as 
 she watched the great bright face of the moon 
 peering at her over the mountain peak behind the 
 ranch, and she arose, giving herself a little shake, 
 moral as well as physical. 
 
 "After all," she murmured, "one can only do 
 one's best, and why there goes the horn for sup- 
 per, and I must hasten. ' ' 
 
 And hasten she did, over stones and prairie-dog 
 hillocks, with the quick, springing run of a deer, 
 toward the lights beginning to twinkle here and 
 there in the little hamlet.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE HOUSE OF VERA. 
 
 Whosoever shall do the will of God, the same is my brother and 
 my sister and mother. Mark 3 : 35. 
 
 MARY SUMMERS had been six months at the 
 ranch and had, little by little, unraveled 
 what had first seemed the hopeless tangle of Don 
 Eduardo Vera's family connections. The old man 
 was now eighty-one years old, and his personal 
 appearance was not more patriarchal than his 
 position as head of the ranch community. Mar- 
 ried at eighteen, he had buried several wives, and 
 Raquel, the present wife, v was not more than half 
 his age. It was computed that he was the father 
 of thirty-five children, the eldest of whom, Daniel, 
 was now over sixty years old, a grandfather him- 
 self, and having a son in the Mexican army. The 
 youngest son of Don Eduardo was but three years 
 old, a funny little miniature of his old father, and 
 the pet and pride of father, mother, nieces, and 
 nephews. 
 
 Many of the children had moved from the 
 ancestral home at San Bernabe, establishing com- 
 munities of their own, either in ranches or in the 
 neighboring cities, so that the family name of 
 
 57
 
 58 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 Vera was perhaps the most widely known of any 
 in North Mexico. They were generally pros- 
 perous, and easily assumed the lead wherever they 
 were thrown, from Don Eduardo, who owned San 
 Bernabe* and half a dozen other neighboring 
 ranches, with the richest pasture land and the 
 finest flocks of any one in the country, to the 
 dashing young captain, son of Daniel. All of the 
 sons and daughters, except Petra, Jose, and the 
 young Benjamin, had married, some below their 
 own social position, others, in a few cases, above it. 
 
 To Miss Summers it seemed as if every one in the 
 ranch was cousin to his neighbor, and that most 
 were connected, more or less, with their head. The 
 very lowest and poorest of the inhabitants were the 
 hired laborers and servants of those who also 
 served and labored, for there were few idlers at 
 San Bernabe in the busy season before the rains, 
 and the sons and daughters of the laboring class, 
 as they grew to maturity, coveted no higher 
 honor than to serve those whom their grand- 
 parents and parents had served. 
 
 Don Eduardo was too infirm now for work, but 
 his eye was still keen, except on Sundays and holi- 
 days, when he usually gave himself up to drowsi- 
 ness and sleep ; and he could still mount a pony 
 and ride out among his family and servants en- 
 gaged in harvesting or shepherding. There was 
 very little money paid as wages to the laborers, 
 as the great plantations were worked on a most
 
 THE HOUSE OF VERA. 59 
 
 intricate system of " shares " of the crops, and of 
 this and keeping the accounts of the profits and 
 losses, Jose* had entire charge. The ranch con- 
 sisted of a hundred or more small huts, with here 
 and there a better built house, indicating the 
 residence of a Vera. The huts were built of 
 adobe, and had often only a rough opening in one 
 side for a door, closed by a flapping mat. The 
 roof was a thatching of the tough leaf of the 
 Spanish dagger, and the chimney simply a hole 
 in the roof. 
 
 Men, women, children, dogs, and poultry often 
 inhabited one room, with the baby swung up high 
 in a shallow box, suspended from the roof. In 
 warm weather and during the ten dry months of 
 the year, these houses were needed only for sleep- 
 ing purposes, as the men lived in the fields during 
 the day, and the women and children worked and 
 played outside in the bright sunshine. The young 
 teacher often shuddered at the thought of what life 
 must be in those hovels when the wintry blasts 
 swept down from the mountains, and snow and 
 hail and rain came hurtling across the prairie. 
 
 Don Eduardo's house was situated in the center 
 of the ranch, and consisted of a dozen rooms built 
 around two sides of a wide open court, whose other 
 sides were bounded by a high stone wall. The 
 house was of one story and built of stone, stuccoed 
 with a white plaster and roofed with boards, upon 
 which cartloads of earth were packed. Most of
 
 60 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 the doors and windows opened upon the court 
 inside, and at night when the great gates of the 
 court were closed and barred, Don Eduardo and 
 his immediate retainers were shut up as in their 
 own castle, and might easily have resisted an in- 
 vading force of ten times their number. 
 
 The old man was unique in many of his cus- 
 toms, but he was beloved and even revered by his 
 entire family connection. The fact that he slept 
 each night inside a great sack of coarse cloth, with 
 the opening closely drawn up over his head by a 
 string, as a protection against fleas, did not seem 
 a matter for ridicule with the members of his 
 household, as they nightly assisted the old gen- 
 tleman's stiffening limbs into the bag. His wish 
 was law throughout the whole ranch, and even 
 now he was equal to the task of whipping the 
 unwary lad caught in mischief and whose punish- 
 ment was beyond the province of the schoolmas- 
 ter ; and woe to the boy whose parents handed him 
 over to the lash in the patriarch's hand, for a 
 brand of disgrace was left on his character which 
 nothing short of leaving the ranch could remove. 
 
 The first serious division in the unanimity of 
 the moral and religious life of this community of 
 two or three hundred persons, was brought about 
 when Mr. Richards, a Baptist missionary, had 
 made his first journey through that region, five 
 years before. All rose in indignation against the 
 intrusion of the hated Protestant doctrine which
 
 THE HOUSE OF VERA. 6 1 
 
 his visit entailed, that is, all save Don Eduardo. 
 He allowed no discussions in his own house, which 
 might have led to unpleasant consequences, and 
 which would have reflected upon his own charac- 
 ter as host ; but he gave the stranger an oppor- 
 tunity to speak in a vacant room outside of his 
 gates, and himself attended the short services. 
 One or two of the laboring men lounged about 
 the door and several children were induced to 
 enter at the sight of the bright picture cards 
 which Mr. Richards had ready for them. Noth- 
 ing seemed to be accomplished by this visit, and 
 little by a second and third, while in reality the 
 great good nature, the natural tact, and genuine 
 earnestness of the man were making him many 
 friends. When, on a fourth visit, he gave an 
 opportunity to those who understood what he had 
 been trying to teach them for many weeks and who 
 having believed on the Lord whom he preached 
 wished to unite in forming a Baptist church, 
 to then and there declare themselves, Don Edu- 
 ardo had offered himself as candidate, and had 
 been followed by one of his sons, three serving 
 men and the wives of two of the latter. These 
 were baptized and formed into a church, and 
 thereafter an interest was kept up among the 
 people by the occasional visits of Mr. Richards, 
 while a native preacher, Sefior Jimenez, was ap- 
 pointed to preach at the ranch every Sunday. 
 Sometimes his labors were supplemented by some
 
 62 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 student from S , where a Baptist school for 
 
 young men had been established. 
 
 When Miss Summers came to the ranch the 
 church numbered thirty men and fourteen women, 
 but there was no Sunday-school at all. The sen- 
 timent of the ranch, however, was changed and 
 though much fanaticism still survived, a kind of 
 admiring indulgence was granted the young lady, 
 who had left her home to come and live among 
 her "sisters," as she called them, to teach them 
 and help them in every possible way. It is true 
 that the yearly visit of the priest had not been 
 made since her arrival, and many a woman and 
 girl knew already what the most important point 
 in their annual confession must be. Still, so 
 many had spoken with the Protestant lady, some 
 having received her into their homes, that the dan- 
 ger of the confession seemed lessened for each, as 
 all would fall under the same condemnation ! And 
 many weeks were wanting before Padre Esteban 
 would reach San Bernabe, and meanwhile, the 
 little chapel which was to be ready for him this 
 year when he came, was still unfinished, and if 
 the rains should come before the roof was on, the 
 adobe walls would be worse than useless. Neither 
 Raquel nor Petra had followed Don Eduardo's 
 example, but Miss Summers was sure that Petra 
 was a Christian, and hoped that she would ask for 
 baptism when Mr. Richards should next come to 
 the ranch. Raquel was thoughtful and silent, and
 
 HOUSE OF VERA. 63 
 
 Mary had noticed that for the past two months 
 she had not trudged over to Bienvenida to Sunday 
 mass as had always been her custom before. Jose" 
 was a mystery. When in Mary's presence, he 
 seemed like a shy schoolboy, not daring to lift his 
 great wistful eyes to her face ; at other times he 
 was all energy and manliness, and every one 
 predicted that he would be his father's successor 
 in the personal management of the estate, as he 
 was already his associate. Unlike his father, he 
 was broad-shouldered and tall, his head was well- 
 shaped, his hair black and waving, and his mouth 
 and chin were particularly fine. Instead of the 
 traditional black eyes, his were blue, and his skin 
 was several shades lighter than that of his half- 
 brothers and sisters, showing traces of the Span- 
 ish blood inherited from his mother's family. 
 He was a silent and reserved young fellow, and 
 though seldom wanting in the merry reunions of 
 the family, he and his dog usually sat gravely at 
 one side, taking little share in the general chatter. 
 Discovering his passion for music, Miss Summers 
 had offered to teach him the use of the little church 
 organ, and he had already conceived a private plan 
 for setting up a great pipe organ in his own room, or 
 perhaps in the new Catholic chapel when it should 
 be completed, and he would be the organist, and 
 all the ranches, far and near, would flock to hear 
 him and would be proud of him. To the music 
 lessons was added English, and three evenings in
 
 64 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 the week Mary spent in the prim, chilly sala of the 
 house, seated opposite Jose" at the center table, 
 giving the lesson in English, while Raquel and 
 Petra nodded over their knitting, and Eduardo 
 played outside the door with his youngest son. 
 
 At first, the young teacher found her cares in- 
 creased with the addition of Refugio to the house- 
 hold. Forseveral weeks the girl was barely able to 
 drag her feeble body from the kitchen to a 
 sunny spot inside Mary's door, where she lay or 
 crouched all day during school hours. Gradually, 
 sufficient strength came to enable her to follow 
 the scholars to the schoolroom, and she would 
 rest all day on an old quilt near the teacher's 
 feet. With surprising quickness she learned 
 hymns and Scripture by heart, and at the end of 
 six weeks she was able to take her place on one 
 of the benches and enter the most advanced class. 
 She was now a different creature, indeed, from 
 the dying girl who had fainted at Mary's door a 
 few weeks before ; the cough had vanished, and 
 she was fast growing plump and very pretty. Her 
 short hair curled under her rebozo, her eyes had 
 brightened, and she had the trim, neat little figure 
 of a well-fed girl of sixteen. Her affection for her 
 protectress was a kind of unconscious adoration, 
 and Mary felt sure that in Jose" and in Refugio she 
 had two faithful friends who would at any time 
 lay down their lives for her, if necessary.
 
 THE HOUSE OF VERA. 65 
 
 On one of the last days of November, some 
 weeks after Refugio's arrival, Mary had brought 
 her chair out into the court to enjoy the afternoon 
 sunshine after a rather chilly morning in the 
 schoolroom. It was Saturday, and a half holiday, 
 and having sent Refugio on an errand to the far- 
 away end of the ranch, she was all alone. Petra 
 hummed a song in the kitchen, across the court, 
 and the tumbling baby had gone with his mother 
 to visit a relative beyond the gates. The mail 
 that day had brought letters and newspapers to 
 the young missionary, and she was eagerly de- 
 vouring home news, delightfully interesting if 
 somewhat stale, when she heard steps behind her, 
 and looking up, she encountered Jose's blue eyes, 
 fixed somewhat ruefully on the pile of letters. 
 
 "You are busy?" he questioned, hesitatingly. 
 "I did not notice. Refugio, whom I met a mo- 
 ment ago, told me that you were unoccupied, and 
 I thought you might help me with this scale," 
 drawing a roll of ruled music paper from his 
 pocket as he spoke. 
 
 Not indulging in the sigh that rose to her lips, his 
 friend took the sheet and easily found the errors 
 which had puzzled the young man. He had taken 
 his seat upon a large flat stone near her, and when 
 she had explained the method of following out the 
 scale, she expected him to leave. Instead, finger- 
 ing the roll of music uneasily, he asked her very 
 abruptly, and with flushed cheeks :
 
 66 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 " Senorita Maria, why did you come here ? I 
 often hear the question asked. Some of the men 
 were talking of it last night, and when they ask 
 me, if they ever dare to do so, I should like to 
 know what to tell them ; that is, what you would 
 like to have me tell them." 
 
 " I am glad, Jose, that you have asked me this," 
 Miss Summers replied. "And I think that I can 
 make you understand it. Life is a very serious 
 thing, Jose", for those who think about it; and how 
 little we all seem to appreciate it! Some say 
 that there is no rule or law for our lives, that we 
 do not know whence we came nor whither we are 
 going, and that the only thing for us is just to do 
 the best we can for ourselves without troubling 
 about anything above and beyond us." 
 
 "And is that not true, senorita?" asked, Jose", 
 gently. "Do we know anything better than 
 that?" 
 
 "I do, Jose"," looking at him with her bright 
 look, that somehow gave him a queer catch in his 
 throat this afternoon. " Let me tell you a rule I 
 learned years ago which helps me ; and really, I 
 do not know how we can know what is the best 
 we can do without following the spirit of this rule. 
 Listen: "Life is to do the will of GodS" She 
 stopped a moment, and looked away from the 
 earnest face of the young man and out toward the 
 mountain peaks which shadowed the ranch. 
 
 "What does that mean, senorita?" inquired
 
 THE HOUSE OF VERA. 67 
 
 Jose", after waiting a moment for her to con- 
 tinue. 
 
 " We must first know what the will of God is, 
 Jose", before we can be ready to do it. Now, there 
 are several helps that he has given us for learning 
 what is his will. The Bible, which you do not 
 read, is a most important guide to this knowledge. 
 If you would study it you would find amazing 
 truths there, besides a fuller knowledge of his 
 will. Then, there is besides, the law written in 
 our hearts, which we cannot tell how, is always 
 trying to lead us onward and upward ' a spark 
 of the eternal God,' " she murmured. "I beg 
 your pardon, Jose," she resumed ; " this is really 
 what I mean, that the duty of us all is to search 
 for opportunities of improving ourselves and of 
 improving our neighbors as ourselves, physically, 
 mentally, and spiritually. It is a duty, not a 
 whim which we may follow or not as we please. 
 God has laid this duty upon us, and if we are in 
 any perplexity as to the best way to perform it, 
 we have only to ask him to make the way plain 
 and he will do so. Now, I could not rest at home 
 with every joy and comfort around me, feeling 
 that there were powers in myself of teaching and 
 helping others unexercised, and knowing that 
 there were those needing the help that I could 
 give. Then I thought, ' L,ife is to do the will of 
 God,' and I knew that I wanted to live, and that 
 this desire in me to teach others to live must come
 
 68 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 from him to show me what I should do. Then I 
 began to think of Mexico and of the girls here, 
 who could know nothing of ' life ' unless some 
 one should tell them, and I could not forget the 
 Mexican girls, and so I am here. And now do you 
 think from what I have told you that you can 
 find an answer for those who ask you why I have 
 come ? ' ' 
 
 " Senorita," he replied, " I understand as I have 
 never done before. Ah ! " he continued, as if to 
 himself, and there was no shyness left now, u it is 
 like the Christ. They say that he left his Father's 
 throne and came to teach men how to live, though 
 I had never thought of it in that way before. 
 And will you ever return, seiiorita, to that beau- 
 tiful home and to those who must love you more 
 
 than " he did not finish, but waited for her 
 
 reply. 
 
 " When my work is done I shall leave it, Jose. 
 But who can say how or when that will be ? My 
 hope is to spend my life in Mexico, perhaps not 
 always in San Beniabe", where others will be able 
 to carry on what we have begun here ; but who 
 knows? I can only do what seems my duty to- 
 day." 
 
 Refugio returned now from her errand, and Jose* 
 rose to his feet with a new light in his eyes as he 
 held out his hand to Mary. 
 
 "Thank you, senorita," he said; "I shall not 
 forget what you have told me."
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SUNDAY AT THE RANCH. 
 
 By desiring what is perfectly good, even when we don't know what 
 it is, and cannot do what we would, we are part of the divine power 
 against evil, widening the skirts of light, and making the struggle 
 with darkness narrower. George Eliot. 
 
 THE next day was Sunday, which at the ranch 
 was kept in usual Mexican fashion. There 
 was no Roman Catholic church nearer than La 
 Bienvenida, a league and a half away, but most 
 of the women and a few of the men always 
 attended nine o'clock mass in the little gaudy 
 chapel in that village. The day was observed as 
 a holiday by those who did not wish to work, and 
 the crashing flails were silent in the open space 
 before the great barn. The mothers went about 
 their usual tasks in the morning and spent the 
 afternoon as they wished. Most of the men and 
 boys wore clean, white cotton shirts and trousers. 
 The women and girls wore their holiday attire of 
 pink calico skirt, very full and stiffly starched, 
 and perhaps a pink calico sacque with the inevita- 
 ble rebozo. 1 The ranch was noisier on Sundays 
 than on other days, for there was much clatter 
 
 J Long scarf-like shawl worn oyer head and shoulders.
 
 7O A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 along the road upon which the house doors 
 opened, and here and there a gay song was sung, 
 accompanied by a guitar. Boys and girls, released 
 from the schoolroom, rolled in the dust of the 
 road, adding their clamor to the other sounds of 
 merriment. 
 
 On this morning Don Eduardo sat outside of 
 his gateway, surrounded by his gray-haired sons 
 and stalwart grandsons, and a few of the wives 
 and children belonging to the Vera clan. The 
 old man looked more patriarchal than ever, with 
 such a gathering of generations about him, for 
 many representatives of the family had come from 
 small ranches in the neighborhood to spend this 
 day with the oldest representative of the clan. 
 Miss Summers had learned during the past week 
 of the expected arrival of Daniel, the grandson of 
 Eduardo, and son of Daniel, who was now an 
 officer in the Mexican army, stationed in the capi- 
 tal city. It was probable that this notable capitan 
 would arrive on this day, as news had been brought 
 
 of his having been in S only two days 
 
 before. As she remembered this, she better 
 understood the general air of unusual festivity 
 'pervading the family party, as she left her room 
 and approached the gate on her way to the mission 
 house. 
 
 The first bell had already rung for morning ser- 
 vice when she crossed the court and looked for 
 Refugio, who was usually stationed just within
 
 SUNDAY AT THE RANCH. 71 
 
 the arch awaiting her mistress. She was there 
 now, and the pair went quickly forth, not pausing 
 as a reiterated "Buenos dias, senorita" sounded 
 from every mouth. With a smiling return of the 
 morning greeting they soon passed out of sight 
 around the corner of the court. How she longed 
 to take them all with her to the service, to leave 
 not one to smoke his pipe or tell his tale in the 
 shadow of the mulberry tree ! Sunday after Sun- 
 day she had urged the attendance of one or all of 
 the family, but Petra was the only one who had re- 
 sponded with anything like cordiality to her invi- 
 tation. Don Eduardo often attended the service, 
 but to-day his head was sick and heavy, and he 
 hardly noticed the teacher's departure. Jose" never 
 failed to present himself at the first chord struck 
 on the chapel organ, and just as regularly 
 marched away as Senor Jimenez opened the Bible 
 to read. 
 
 This morning, however, and when she saw it 
 Mary chided herself for her own lack of faith 
 which had not allowed her to urge her usual plea 
 to-day, as the organ gave the keynote of the 
 second hymn, most of the group which she had 
 left gossiping about the gate entered the mission 
 house door with a good deal of flurry, and some 
 conscious giggling from the younger members of 
 the party. 
 
 Some of them out of curiosity, and the others 
 out of real admiration for the beautiful young
 
 72 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 gringa, had decided to leave the old man and a 
 dozen or more dogs to watch the road leading from 
 the city, and they had, most of them, for the first 
 time entered the " condemned foreigners' " chapel. 
 
 " Why not? " Angela had asked, a pretty young 
 woman, who according to the gossips was in love 
 with Jose* Vera, and was his double first cousin. 
 " I like music, and I love the pretty Mariquita. 
 If I do not like the sermon, I can come away, as 
 they say Jose" here always does ! " with a saucy 
 toss of her head at the young man, who stood 
 leaning against the tree behind her, already listen- 
 ing for the sound of the music. 
 
 " Let us all go," suggested Daniel,/a<^r^. " If 
 Daniel comes, the dogs will let us know in time 
 for us all to be here to receive him. But mind," 
 he added to the laughing Angela, "and behave 
 yourself, out of respect to the senorita." 
 
 " Adios, padrecito"^ cried Angela, in Don 
 Eduardo's ear. " We are going to the senorita's 
 mass, and to confess to the padre protestante after- 
 ward. Ay de mi, and what a penance in truth I 
 shall have to make when our own padre hears !" 
 
 The old man looked wonderingly and wistfully 
 after them, as all but Daniel's wife rose from their 
 seats and sauntered along in the direction of the 
 chapel. Dona Rosa sat upright upon a stool near 
 her father-in-law's side. Raquel and Petra were 
 busy in the kitchen. 
 
 1 Farewell, little father.
 
 SUNDAY AT THE RANCH. 73 
 
 " Whither have they gone, little daughter? " he 
 asked, as the last one disappeared around the 
 corner. "Is he come already ? Dost thou hear 
 the diligence ? ' ' 
 
 "No, padre mio" replied Rosa. "They are 
 all fools and faithless. The little one, Angelita, 
 has persuaded them to go to the senorita's culto^ * 
 and only I have stayed to bear thee company." 
 
 "It is well," returned the old man. "I am 
 glad. To-day, what day is this? Sunday? 
 Come, we will go also, why do we stay away ? " 
 
 "No, no, father," exclaimed the woman, "we 
 shall stay here and watch for the diligence. 
 What a shame it would be for Daniel to arrive, 
 our brave soldier, my son Daniel, and find no one 
 to receive him but the dogs and the children out 
 in the road. See, the shadows are even now 
 pointing toward the north, and it is almost noon. 
 Surely, it will not be long now," she added, with 
 a mother's yearning in her voice. 
 
 Don Eduardo yielded, and after a little he 
 threw his large red handkerchief over his head 
 and face, and dozed, as the aged do, even on the 
 eve of the most thrilling events. Dona Rosa kept 
 her eyes fixed upon the long prairie road stretch- 
 ing away toward the mountains. Her holiday 
 costume was a black silk skirt and tightly fitting 
 white sacque, while over her ample shoulders was 
 thrown the black shawl of the well-to-do middle 
 
 1 Worship or church service.
 
 74 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 class. Her black hair was smooth and shining-, 
 and hung in two long braids below her waist. 
 Her black eyes were eager and burning, and in 
 watching for the first sign of the approach of her 
 son, they had lost the scornful expression which 
 had accompanied the first words of her speech to 
 her father-in-law. 
 
 Meanwhile, the feminine portion of the visiting 
 party in the little church had found seats on the 
 benches dedicated to the use of women and girls, 
 while Daniel and one or two other men sat oppo- 
 site, among the other male attendants. 
 
 The devout attitude of the little congregation, 
 which gave not one surprised glance, nor uttered 
 a whisper as the strangers entered, told upon even 
 Angela's high spirits, and she accepted a hymn 
 book handed to her by Carlos, whose serious 
 manner did full justice to his important office of 
 book-bearer. Juan Vera was standing close at 
 Mary's elbow, and the rest of the nineteen children 
 from the day school were present. The song se- 
 lected was a great favorite. 
 
 As usual, when Mary began to sing, everything 
 within and without grew quiet, and the strangers 
 in the church fixed their eyes and ears upon the 
 bright-faced organist. Jose* sat in his usual place 
 upon the door-step, the great white head of his 
 dog upon his knee, but he looked away toward 
 the mountains bounding the plain. 
 
 Mary's dress was white, and her large white hat
 
 SUNDAY AT THE RANCH. 75 
 
 was pushed back from her forehead, where bits 
 of sunny curls twisted and waved and framed the 
 fair temples in a most bewitching manner. Her 
 dark eyes grew very soft and reverent, as they 
 always did when she listened to her little ones 
 singing the tender words of the hymns, and to- 
 day as Juanito's childish voice rang out above the 
 others the tears started, and she could have taken 
 him into her arms and hugged him. 
 
 They sang the last verse with the earnest 
 emphasis which Mary had taught them to use 
 with these words, and Jose* started at finding him- 
 self hearing something in what was sung besides 
 the music of Mary's voice : 
 
 He long s to receive thee, 
 He wishes to favor thee ; 
 To open to thee the doors 
 Of eternal happiness. 
 
 " Come to Christ ; come now," he repeated in- 
 wardly, forgetting to slip away as Senor Jimenez 
 offered a short and simple prayer. 
 
 " How can I go to him ? Where is he ? The 
 Virgin Mary I know, and she, they say, wrings 
 pardon for us from her Son. How should I, a 
 sinner, find him, the Son of God, who is perfect, 
 and likes not sin nor sinners ? " 
 
 The preacher arose from his knees, and speak- 
 ing quickly and tenderly, told the ever- wonderful 
 story of the cross to the little band of hearers. 
 
 4 'Just as I am, without one plea," was the
 
 76 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 hymn selected, and the sweet, old familiar tune, 
 Wood-worth, which belongs to the touching words 
 as none other does, thrilled through the little room 
 and out upon the warm, still air of that perfect 
 November Sunday. Jose listened, and a lump 
 rose in his throat which he had never felt there 
 before. 
 
 The discourse was short and impressive, Miss 
 Summers thought, as she listened to the little man 
 who usually seemed dull even to her. Perhaps 
 he was encouraged and inspired by the increase 
 of hearers to-day ; at any rate they all listened to 
 the end, much to her surprise, and after another 
 hymn, followed by the benediction, the strangers 
 dispersed as quietly as any regular church-goers 
 could have done. Angela lingered to speak to 
 Mary, who was closing the organ and giving part- 
 ing reminders to the children of the Sunday-school 
 in the afternoon. 
 
 "Well, Angela," said Mary, as she found the 
 young girl at her elbow, ' ' I am glad you came 
 and I hope you will come often. Why not ? I am 
 sure that Jose* would go for you on Saturdays 
 sometimes, and " 
 
 " And my mother would shut me up in a con- 
 vent, rather ! " returned the girl, laughing. " Oh, 
 do let me touch the little organ, just with one of 
 my fingers ! How is it that you can make such 
 music? Did you have to learn, or was it born 
 with you in the tips of your little white fingers.
 
 SUNDAY AT THE RANCH. 77 
 
 Oh," she continued, not giving Mary time to an- 
 swer her, " I know that you are teaching Jose", 
 but his great, black hands, what can they do? 
 I do not believe a word of his playing. Now, I," 
 she murmured, looking only half approvingly at 
 her own shapely little hand, so brown beside 
 Mary's much larger one, "perhaps I could learn." 
 
 "Of course you can," replied Mary, eagerly. 
 " And if you like I will teach you. How would 
 you like that, Angela ? " 
 
 " How beautiful that would be ! " exclaimed 
 the girl enthusiastically. " And then I should be 
 equal with Jose," she added, her black eyes snap- 
 ping, for she was not at all sure of the young 
 fellow's attachment to herself, as he had grown 
 strangely cold and thoughtful of late, in fact quite 
 another Jose, she thought. " Bah ! he will never 
 learn," she declared. 
 
 " Oh yes, he will, ' ' returned Mary ; " he is already 
 learning. But he is shy, and always shuts him- 
 self up alone to play except when I give him his 
 lesson." 
 
 " And then you two are together, is it not so ? " 
 asked Angela, slowly, fingering the organ keys 
 with one hand, and looking away from Mary. 
 
 "Why, of course," replied Mary, "and you 
 should see your Jose then, Angela, for he forgets 
 everything but the music when he plays or when 
 I am playing, and he grows quite gentle and 
 solemn, and "
 
 78 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 ( ' I think no one can forget you, Sanorita Maria, 
 when you are playing, no matter what the music 
 may be," interrupted the girl brusquely ; and then 
 to Mary's astonishment she suddenly stepped 
 through the door and was gone. 
 
 Sunday afternoons, after the little Sunday-school 
 was over, were always spent by Mary in her own 
 inner room, as fresh and dainty as could be found 
 in all the republic, and she enjoyed the hours of 
 silence and peace which were necessary to her 
 welfare. This afternoon the children and the 
 parents had seemed unusually interested in the 
 Sunday-school lesson, and Mary and Senor Jim- 
 enez had had a little talk afterward, in which 
 each had felt that he could encourage the other. 
 Then Senor Jimenez had ridden away to a neigh- 
 boring ranch where he was to hold an evening 
 sendee, and Mary strolled homeward in the clear, 
 crisp afternoon air, with a great peace and happi- 
 ness in her heart. If sne could only win Angela, 
 what might not follow? 
 
 She came to the window of her room which 
 opened upon the road and which could be made 
 into a door as well, and here to her surprise she 
 found Refugio standing on the step. 
 
 "I opened this door, senorita," she said, in a 
 half-whisper, " because the court is already full of 
 relations, and there are so many men, and there is 
 so much noise that I thought you would rather 
 enter without passing by them."
 
 SUNDAY AT THE RANCH. 79 
 
 "What a thoughtful Cuca ! " said Mary, really 
 grateful for the delicacy of the girl's act, yet not 
 surprised, for she had long since ceased being 
 surprised at the constant thoughtfulness shown 
 her by the little rancherita. 1 " Indeed," she con- 
 tinued, " this is much better, and now I shall 
 rest awhile. What would you like, Cuca ? Some- 
 thing to read ? " 
 
 " I shall sit outside here, senorita, if you do 
 not mind, and no one shall disturb you, for I have 
 locked the door on the court." 
 
 Mary entered the bedroom and for an hour all 
 was quiet as she sat at her little table writing. 
 The door, turned again into a window by closing 
 the half-leaves below, gave a view of spreading 
 plain and purple mountain, so lovely that neither 
 writing nor reading progressed very far. The 
 room was high pitched, as all Mexican houses of 
 the better class are, and the beams overhead were 
 brown with age, and perhaps not altogether free 
 from cobwebs, as nothing shorter than a twenty- 
 foot pole would have reached them. The walls 
 were only whitewashed, but were as white as white 
 could be, and a thick soft mat covered the earth- 
 floor. A single iron bedstead was draped in white, 
 with full net curtains, as protection against mos- 
 quitoes, and an old-fashioned chest of drawers on 
 one side faced a daintily appointed dressing-table 
 on the other. The latter was only a box under- 
 
 1 Little country girl cr peasant.
 
 80 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 neatli, but its muslin drapery was purity itself, 
 and surely no pier glass ever reflected a lovelier 
 face than did that tiny, gilt-bound mirror swung 
 between the curtains of the toilet table. Out of 
 another smaller box, Jose" and Mary had evolved 
 a bookcase of wonderful design, and this also was 
 curtained with light flowered mull. A wicker 
 rocker, one or two other chairs, and the large, 
 round table which held books and writing mate- 
 rials, completed the furniture of the room. Two 
 or three brightly dyed goatskins gave spots of 
 color here and there, and Mary herself, as she sat 
 at the table writing, gave a very unconscious air 
 of completeness to the whole. Her face was 
 flushed, perhaps with the memories that the half- 
 written letter before her recalled to her mind. 
 The first page began, " My dearest grandmamma," 
 and she was beginning a second sheet when a 
 great clamor of horses' feet, and wheels, and bark- 
 ing dogs, and women's shrill voices, and men's 
 deeper tones, arrested her pen just as Refugio's 
 face appeared above the half-door, full of eager 
 excitement. 
 
 "He has come, senorita," she cried. "The 
 capitan has come ! " 
 
 u How glad his mother and all the rest will be, 
 Cuca," replied Mary. 
 
 "Such a brave, noble fellow, Dona Rosa says 
 he is," continued the girl, with enthusiasm. 
 "Hark, is not that his swdrd clanking on the
 
 SUNDAY AT THE RANCH. 8l 
 
 pavement of the court ? What a grand thing it 
 must be to be the mother of a capitan" 
 
 Mary was not so sure of this as was Refugio, 
 and she said nothing to dampen the enthusiasm 
 of the girl, but only smiled to herself as she pro- 
 ceeded with her letter, more rapidly now, as the 
 same diligence which had brought Captain Daniel, 
 would carry the infinitesimal mail of San Bernabe" 
 to S , the next morning. 
 
 Meantime, the court, the kitchen, and the sala 1 
 were scenes of mirth and rejoicing over the arrival. 
 Outside the gateway were huddled the children 
 of the ranch who did not belong to the Vera 
 family, and many half-grown girls and women 
 loitered in sight of the cheer and happiness within. 
 
 The young officer, object of so much bustle and 
 attention, sat at Bduardo's left hand, whose right 
 was occupied by old Raquel, and his bronzed face, 
 bright eyes, and dashing mustache were perfection 
 in his mother's eyes. That admiring dame sat at 
 Daniel's feet on a low stool, and from time to 
 time, stroked gently the dark blue cloth of her 
 boy's sleeve, ineffable pride showing on her smil- 
 ing face. 
 
 Never before had such a brave sight gladdened 
 the eyes of San Bernab as this gay officer presented, 
 sitting with cap pushed back from his forehead, 
 and one hand laid on the hilt of his sword. The 
 gold of his epaulets, the red stripes of his uniform, 
 
 i Parlor.
 
 82 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 the spotless linen cuffs and collar, and the shining, 
 patent-leather tipped shoes made a picture which 
 caused the heart of San Bernabe" to bound with 
 admiration and delight. It is true that bands of 
 soldiers had tramped through the ranch from 
 time to time, detachments sent over the mountains 
 for the detention of brigands, and sometimes they 
 had been received into that very court and treated 
 according to Mexico's universal laws of hospital- 
 ity, but they had been usually 'too travel-worn 
 and weary to do more than eat, drink, and then 
 roll over upon their mats for sleep. But this 
 bright star was San Bernabd's own, and was to re- 
 main in the ranch for two weeks, so that each 
 one might hope to be able at least to see him. 
 
 "So, Angela," the young captain was saying, 
 " thou and Jose" are making up to one another. 
 Thou seest that I know something of what passes 
 in the bosom of my family, though so far away. 
 And by the way, where is Jose"?" he questioned, 
 looking carelessly over the group of youths loung- 
 ing at a respectful distance. "I have not seen 
 him, have I? It is so hard to know each one 
 when one's family connection is so large," he 
 ended, with an affected drawl. 
 
 " No, indeed, Cousin Daniel," replied Angela, 
 who was all sparkles now and ready to take up the 
 the cudgels at what she fancied some slight upon 
 the absent Jose", " thou hast not yet seen Jose", or 
 thou wouldst not need to ask. He is the finest
 
 SUNDAY AT THE RANCH. 83 
 
 cousin I have, if he does not wear tight trousers, 
 and pinch his toes, and play with a sword all day. 
 There," she ended defiantly, and springing up, 
 she rushed across the court, and almost without 
 knowing what she did, tapped at Mary's door. 
 
 " Let me come in, please," she cried, as Mary 
 opened the door ; "I am frightened, and I am 
 glad also, for I have given that stuck-up little 
 capitan a piece of my mind. How Aunt Rosa 
 will hate me ! But he should not have taken 
 upon himself so many airs ! ' ' 
 
 " Why, where has she gone, the little fiend ? " 
 asked the young man, as he saw the door close 
 upon her. " Holy Virgin ! but she is a beauty ! 
 Has she gone to find Jose* ? " with a sneer. 
 
 "That is the sefiorita Americana 1 s room," re- 
 plied Petra. ' ' And surely I must be bewitched 
 to be sitting here gaping when the pobrecita^ 
 must be starving ! " and the good Petra hastened 
 off to the kitchen, whence she emerged not many 
 minutes later, carrying a small tray containing a 
 cup of foaming chocolate and a white bun. 
 
 "'The sefiorita Americana I"*" exclaimed 
 Captain Daniel. "And who is she ? Why is she 
 here ? " with great animation. 
 
 "The little Protestant," sneered Dona Rosa. 
 " Thou needst not trouble thy brains about her ; 
 she will never do thee any harm, the little white- 
 haired fool ! " 
 
 1 Poor little one, an expression of affection, as well as of pity.
 
 84 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 "Who is she, papa? " repeated Daniel, looking 
 at his father. " What is her name ? " 
 
 " The Senorita Maria Veranos," replied the 
 father, curtly. 
 
 ' ' Veranos ? ' ' said Daniel, Jr. ' ' Who ever heard 
 of such a name ? And yet thou saidst that she is 
 Americana ! " 
 
 ' ' Veranos is her name turned into our language, 
 Daniel," interrupted Raquel. "Bless her pretty 
 face and her sweet voice ! " 
 
 "Veranos, Veranos ! " exclaimed Don Eduardo, 
 catching at the name. " That is our senorita's 
 name. Where is she ? Has no one invited her to 
 merienda with us ? What can you all be think- 
 ing of?" 
 
 " Petra has carried her chocolate, father," said 
 Raquel to her husband. " Thou knowest that on 
 Sunday she stays alone in her room." 
 
 The entrance of Jose" now created a diversion, and 
 the young men met in a warm embrace. Then 
 Daniel, still clasping Jose" by the shoulders, held 
 him at arm's length, and exclaimed : 
 
 "Well, in truth, thou art a fine fellow, Jose*, as 
 thy Angela says. Thou art a giant beside me," 
 looking with ill-concealed pride, however, down 
 his own trim, small figure, and up again into Josh's 
 fine face. " How old are you, man ? " 
 
 " As old as thyself, less three months, Daniel," 
 replied Jose", " which makes me twenty-four, if I 
 mistake not."
 
 SUNDAY AT THE RANCH. 85 
 
 "Thou twenty-four already!" rejoined his 
 nephew, whose bad, bright eyes fell before the 
 manly gaze of Jose*. " Ah," laughing slightly, as 
 he turned away toward the table that was being 
 laid in the court, " thou shouldst come to 
 Mexico City, where three months would add three 
 years to thy age ! ' ' 
 
 As they gathered about the table, some standing, 
 others lounging on rough benches, Angela reap- 
 peared and took her place demurely in Daniel's 
 seat at her grandfather's left hand. 
 
 "Ah, little one," exclaimed Daniel, perceiving 
 the small, plump figure in his chair, as he turned 
 away from Jose, " thy wings are swift as thy 
 tongue. Where dost thou keep them folded away 
 out of sight, so that we mortals cannot see them ? 
 And whither didst thou fly, little angel ? " 
 
 Angela made him no answer save a toss of the 
 head. Wound gracefully over her shoulders she 
 wore a thin, gauzy rebozo of silk, of a beautiful 
 rose color, and her dress was of white lawn dotted 
 with pink, and her tiny feet were shod with the 
 high-heeled, high-arched kid shoes, dear to the 
 heart of the Mexican maiden. Her coal-black 
 hair was drawn in a shining mass to the top of her 
 head, while about her neck and ears waved tiny 
 love-locks that softened the half-bold beauty of 
 the rosy face. 
 
 She glanced at Jose", and finding his eyes fixed 
 upon her in unusual admiration, she leaned toward
 
 86 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 him and said with a half-shy and half-defiant ex- 
 pression in her eyes : 
 
 "I have been talking with Mariquita, Jose", 
 and she has promised to teach me music too, if 
 mamma will consent to let me stay here at the 
 ranch with Uncle Eduardo. What thinkest thou 
 of that, my Pepe ? 1 Now we shall be rivals, and 
 I wonder which will love the senorita best, thou 
 or I." 
 
 "I think, Angela, that that will not be the 
 question for us," replied Jose", growing a little pale, 
 Angela thought, as she watched him searchingly, 
 though his voice was firm and sweet. " I am 
 glad thou art going to study music also and I 
 know that thou wilt succeed. I often think when 
 my big fingers stumble over the keys how much 
 better thy small hands would do the work," and 
 he took one of the little hands, stretched upon the 
 table in the position for playing, caressingly into 
 his own. 
 
 And Angela was satisfied, and drank her choco- 
 late and ate her tamales? taking no further notice 
 of the little captain. 
 
 1 A pet name for Jose or Joseph. 
 
 * Tamales are rolled tortillas stuffed with seasoned meat chopped 
 fine and cooked in corn-shucks.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 OLD JUANA'S PROPHECY. 
 
 So others shall 
 
 Take patience, labor to their heart and hand, 
 From thy hand and thy heart, and thy brave cheer, 
 And God's grace fructify through thee to all ; 
 The least flower, with a brimming cup may stand 
 And share its dew-drop with another near. Mrs. Browning, 
 
 THE feasting continued for several days and 
 was to end on Thursday with a grand picnic 
 in the pine woods which clothed the nearest of 
 the foot-hills, a distance of a league from the 
 ranch. As Thursday was a half-holiday, Mary 
 promised the entire day to her eager scholars, and 
 on Wednesday evening was sitting reading in her 
 room, enjoying in prospect the long, free day 
 before her when she would be left alone in the 
 house w r hile most of the ranch would be absent at 
 the picnic. It had been taken for granted that 
 she would accompany the Veras, and out in the 
 court a final council was being held for assigning 
 places in the wagons and ox-carts for the women 
 and children. When Miss Summers' name was 
 mentioned, I^efugio said in a soft voice to Petra : 
 ' ' But the senorita is not going, Dona Petra ; 
 
 87
 
 83 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 she told me this morning that she would write 
 letters all day to-morrow." 
 
 " Dost thou hear this, Jose ! " cried Petra ; " Re 
 fugio says that Mariquita will stay at home? " 
 
 "Who?" interruped Captain Daniel. "Is not 
 the Seiiorita Maria going ! Then I say we shall 
 put off the picnic until a day when she can go." 
 
 Jose" said nothing, but looked disappointed. 
 
 " I shall go and see," exclaimed Angela, jump- 
 ing up from her seat, and starting toward Mary's 
 apartment. 
 
 "And I with thee ! " laughed the captain, has- 
 tening after her. 
 
 Miss Summers had already met Daniel several 
 times in the court and outside in the village, and 
 the bold admiration in his glance had amused 
 while it annoyed her. 
 
 She now, however, politely invited him with his 
 companion to enter her little ante-room and to sit 
 down. 
 
 Angela begged that she would accompany them 
 the next day, and the captain added his plea. 
 
 " Surely you are both very kind," replied Mary, 
 " but I hardly know how I can spare the day. Be- 
 sides, I have promised to go to El Porvenir to see 
 Juan Gutierrez' little girl, who is sick and has 
 not been able to come to school for several days. 
 No," she added, decidedly, "I must not go to- 
 morrow." 
 
 1 ' But in the afternoon, senorita, after you have
 
 ou> JUANA'S PROPHECY. 89 
 
 done your letters and El Porvenir, I shall come 
 back here for you and you will let me drive you 
 to the Pond, is it not so ? " asked Daniel, eagerly. 
 
 "No, senor," she replied, "that will be impos- 
 sible. I thank you, but I cannot go. " 
 
 "Then the day will be spoiled," cried Angela, 
 impetuously, as she arose to leave the room ; " and 
 I know how cross Jose will be, and we shall all be 
 glad when it is over." 
 
 "Yes," added the captain, "the day will be 
 spoiled. But, it will be only a day after all, and 
 we must endure it. ' ' 
 
 Mary arose with them, repeating her regrets 
 sincerely, surprised that the party had really been 
 counting upon her presence. 
 
 " She will not go," exclaimed Angela, rejoining 
 the company in the court ; " and if she refused 
 when Cousin Daniel pleaded with her, there is no 
 further use of speaking of it." She ended with 
 an adorable glance at the captain, who stood twist- 
 ing his mustaches vexedly, and for a great wonder 
 unconscious of Angela's coquetry. Since the first 
 afternoon of Daniel's arrival, she had seemed to 
 change her mind as to the captain's charms, and 
 if Jose was at all in love with her, and noticed 
 her charming airs when the captain was near, he 
 must have writhed under pangs of jealousy insup- 
 portable. 
 
 "The sefiorita will do as she pleases," said Jose*, 
 quietly. ' ' The picnic is in your honor, Daniel,
 
 90 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 and all of your friends will be there. There can 
 be no question of putting it off, because they are 
 already invited, and it would not be possible to 
 notify them in time." 
 
 When Mary was preparing for bed awhile later, 
 a gentle tap at the door announced Petra, who had 
 only looked in on her way to her own room to 
 say : "I wish you would go, senorita, but we wish 
 you to do just as you wish, and after all you 
 would find it very tiresome I fear, as so many 
 would be strangers to you. Do not mind what 
 Angela says ; it is only that she loves you, as we all 
 do," she concluded, affectionately. 
 
 " Thank you, Petra, for coming to tell me this," 
 she replied, "for I felt sorry to disappoint any 
 one, but I have promised the little one to go to 
 see her to-morrow, and she is very sick I fear. 
 Good night, Petrita, and a pleasant day to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 ' ' Buenos noches, senorita ; que pase una noche 
 muy feliz!" 1 
 
 "Oh, Petra," called Mary, as she was closing 
 the door, " they will leave me the pony, will they 
 not ? " 
 
 " Of course the pony will be left for you, Se- 
 norita," answered a deeper voice than Petra's, and 
 Josd's tall figure stood in the bright moonlight 
 before her. Petra had already entered her room 
 and closed the door. 
 
 1 " Good-night, miss ; may you pass a happy night ! "
 
 OLD JUANA'S PROPHECY. 91 
 
 "The pony is yours," he continued, u do you 
 not know that ? ' ' 
 
 " Thank you, Jose"," she replied. " I do need 
 him very much for to-morrow, and I have not had 
 a gallop for a long time." 
 
 " I am glad you are not going to-morrow, se- 
 norita," continued Jose", thoughtfully. "At first, 
 I was sorry ; now I see that it is best. It will not 
 be just exactly like the little church fiesta 1 papa 
 gave not long ago. It will be very gay, and there 
 will be dancing, and you say you do not care to 
 dance." 
 
 "No, I do not know how to dance," she re- 
 turned, smiling. " I hope you will enjoy the day 
 very much, Jose" ; good night." And Mary disap- 
 peared. 
 
 " A word with thee, Jose mio" said a voice at 
 Josh's elbow, as he was about to enter his door 
 farther on. " The moon is fine, let us walk a little 
 way before going to bed. " . 
 
 " With all my heart, Daniel," replied his young 
 uncle, wondering what he could have to say to 
 him. 
 
 " A fine night," remarked the young officer, as 
 they walked on past the gate, and out upon the 
 white road. ' ' The rains are late this year. Ca- 
 ramba!' i but I should not like to live here during 
 the winter, with the roofs leaking, the court-yard 
 
 1 Feast or holiday. 
 
 * An interjection, expressing surprise or dismay.
 
 0,2 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 a lake, and every dog, cat, woman, and child hud- 
 dling over the brazero 1 to keep warm ! What do 
 the fellows do here all winter lor*^? What do 
 you do, Jose? " 
 
 "I? Oh, I find a dry spot near the brazero 
 also, and ' huddle ' there, dodging the leaks till 
 the rain stops and the sun shines again," replied 
 Jose, gravely. " And then you know it does not 
 rain every day. Sometimes it does not rain for 
 several weeks, and the air is clear and cold and 
 we go hunting, do we not, old boy?" patting the 
 head of his dog, that was walking close at his 
 side. "And then at night when it rains I read, 
 and this winter I shall have the music and and 
 other studies. Oh, I do very well during the 
 winter." 
 
 Captain Daniel wondered at the slight smile 
 curving the grave lips of his companion, and 
 caught at the word music. 
 
 1 ' So you play, do you ? On what instrument, 
 the violin or the guitar? " 
 
 " On the organ in the chapel," replied Jose. 
 
 " Oh, I see ! On the organ of the little Protest- 
 ant, as mamma calls her. By the way, Jose", with 
 which art thou in love, with the senorita Ameri- 
 cana or with our Angela? " 
 
 Jose* hesitated a few seconds, then replied : 
 
 "If I answer thee, Daniel, what will you do 
 then?" 
 
 1 Brazier.
 
 OLD JUANA'S PROPHECY. 93 
 
 " Make love to the other, of course," replied 
 Daniel, laughing harshly, "that is, if the fancy 
 does not strike me to cross thee. Come, confess." 
 
 Jose was again silent for a moment, then point- 
 ing to a tiny spark of light glimmering in a 
 neighboring ranch, he replied slowly and impres- 
 sively : 
 
 " Do you see that point of light, Danielito, far 
 away at Bl Porvenir ? " 
 
 "Of course, Pepe mio" replied Daniel, both 
 having fallen unconsciously into using the di- 
 minutives of their childish days. 
 
 " And the moon overhead ? " and both looked 
 up into the heavens, where the full moon was 
 shining in unclouded splendor. 
 
 " Yes," again assented Daniel, looking a second 
 time curiously into his companion's open, intelli- 
 gent countenance. 
 
 " Bien, amigomio 1 . Understand, then, that as 
 that little light over there is to the brilliancy of 
 the moon in the sky above us, so am I, so art thou, 
 to the Senorita Maria. ' ' 
 
 "And you do not love her?" persisted Daniel, 
 a little cruelly perhaps. 
 
 " Yes, I love her," replied Jose", slowly. " And 
 she knows as much of it as the moon does, for I 
 am as near to her as I am to the moon." 
 
 "And Angelita?" 
 
 " Love her, if thou wilt, but be a man and do 
 
 1 Well, my friend.
 
 94 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 not treat her as a child. She is a woman 
 now. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, and loves you." 
 
 " Enough of this nonsense ! " exclaimed Jose", 
 carelessly. " Is this the talk you brought me 
 out to hear?" 
 
 Yet Jose" that night did not sleep so soon as 
 Captain Daniel, and it is even doubtful whether 
 he closed his eyes at all before the early rising 
 the next morning for the start to the picnic 
 grounds. 
 
 Miss Summers was aroused by the clamor be- 
 fore the light of the rather chilly morning had 
 fully dawned. Don Eduardo's premises were to 
 be the starting point, and by half-past five o'clock 
 preparations had begun. 
 
 She was lying half dreaming an hour later, 
 when Refugio gently tapped at her window to 
 bid her young mistress farewell, if she should be 
 awake. She went to the window and gave her 
 young charge some parting directions. She had 
 already given her into Petra's special care, and 
 the latter had promised to keep her with her all 
 day. 
 
 Refugio's eyes were sparkling with joyous 
 anticipation of the delight of riding to the moun- 
 tain in an ox-cart beside Petra. She looked 
 exceedingly pretty in her pink gingham dress, 
 with her dark blue rebozo thrown picturesquely 
 over her head and shoulders. Jose* had not
 
 OLD JUANA'S PROPHECY. 95 
 
 mounted his horse yet, and stood in the road 
 opposite Mary's window, assisting in getting the 
 procession of motley vehicles and steeds under 
 way. He was very handsome in his holiday suit, 
 which set off his fine figure to perfection. A 
 clatter of hoofs and a general scurry of dogs and 
 pedestrians announced the approach of a reckless 
 horseman, and all watched the little captain as 
 he rounded the corner from the stables and gal- 
 loped up to Jose. He was mounted on a great 
 black horse, and sat stiff and upright in the pon- 
 derous Spanish saddle of beautifully embossed 
 leather. Every part of his uniform was immacu- 
 late, from his cap to the pointed toe of his little 
 boot, and besides his clattering sword, a pistol 
 showed at his side. Jose was also armed, a pistol 
 on each side gleaming below his waistcoat, and 
 he saluted politely as this bright vision dashed up 
 to his side. 
 
 "All are here now, of our party," said Jose ; 
 " it is time to start. You, Antonio, bring up my 
 horse." 
 
 He mounted his horse, a fine gray of noble 
 proportions, bearing a saddle resembling Daniel's, 
 behind which a gayly colored blanket was strapped, 
 The two friends headed the party, and their 
 horses fretted with long waiting, and piqued by 
 the crispness of the morning air, gave their riders 
 as much as they could do to control them. Then 
 followed the creaking ox-carts, each accompanied
 
 96 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 by a youth on foot bearing a stout, six-foot pole 
 having a sharply pointed goad of steel at one end ; 
 quite a drove of little donkeys and ugly little 
 broncos trotted and pranced before and behind, 
 mounted by half-grown boys and girls, and the 
 rear was closed in by a quaint old chaise drawn by 
 two work-horses, and bearing the patriarch, his 
 wife, and his Benjamin. 
 
 After all were gone, the village was very quiet 
 and seemed to have sunk to sleep again. The day 
 was cooler than any of the season so far, and 
 heavy blue clouds stood ready to receive the sun 
 when he should appear above the mountain. 
 
 Miss Summers spoke of the threatening look of 
 the sky when, an hour later, the old woman who 
 had been left in charge of the house, brought her 
 some hot tortillas and a couple of fresh eggs for 
 breakfast. 
 
 " It will not rain to-day," replied the old crone, 
 shaking her head, "but before many days 'the 
 waters' will begin. For many months we have 
 had no clouds, not one in the sky, and I said as I 
 saw them this morning, one more week to get the 
 roofs in order, one more week to finish the thresh- 
 ing of the beans, and then they will come, the 
 waters ! " 
 
 Mary had chosen to make her own breakfast in 
 Petra's absence, and already the water in the little 
 brass tea-kettle was boiling and the table laid. 
 After making tea in a gay little Japan teapot, she
 
 OLD JUANA'S PROPHECY. 97 
 
 poured the remainder of the boiling water over the 
 eggs, and five minutes later sat down to her simple 
 morning meal. Her thoughts were very busy, 
 and the loneliness of the house did not impress her 
 as it would certainly have done otherwise. First, 
 there was a letter to be written to a children's mis- 
 sionary society at home. The leader had written 
 several weeks before, asking for a letter which 
 would interest the children and prove a tempting 
 bait for gathering in several who had strayed from 
 the meetings. 
 
 " Your letters always please them so," the leader 
 had written. " Your name is an inspiration to 
 them, and if they could only have a short greeting 
 from you every month for each meeting, I am sure 
 they would do wonders." 
 
 This, of course, was pleasant to hear, but as 
 she had such letters by almost every mail, it was 
 fast growing impossible to answer them all. 
 
 " If I could only copy one letter and send the 
 same to a dozen societies, it would be so much 
 easier," she reflected. " Copying paper is a sim- 
 ple thing to manage ; but then, some society with- 
 out thinking it necessary to consult me, would 
 publish their letter in the missionary column of 
 some newspaper, and then where would I be, and 
 my copied letters ? ' ' 
 
 After the letter, she must prepare her quarterly 
 report for the Mission Board, giving briefly some 
 account of the work at San Bernabe since Au- 
 
 G
 
 98 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 gust. And after dinner she must set out for El 
 Porvenir. 
 
 While washing the breakfast dishes and arrang- 
 ing her rooms, she planned the main points of her 
 missionary letter and, after that, the hours flew by 
 until, to her great astonishment, the tousled gray 
 head of the old woman was again thrust into the 
 room, with the inquiry as to whether she was 
 ready for dinner. 
 
 " Oh, dinner ! " she exclaimed. "Why I have 
 just finished breakfast, Juana mia! " 
 
 "With the sun saying that it is one o'clock, 
 seiiorita? Thou must have been asleep. Thy 
 dinner is ready. " 
 
 And so was Mary, as she found, after signing 
 her name to the last page which she had written. 
 She stepped to the well for a drink of fresh water 
 which the old woman had just drawn, and found 
 the heat of the sun almost insupportable. W'hat 
 seemed the same dark clouds of the morning, only 
 shifted around to the west, lay banked closely 
 about the horizon, while the sun glared through 
 the steely blue ether overhead. 
 
 " Will it rain, Juana ? " she asked again. 
 
 " No," she replied, as before ; " not to-day, nor 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "But see those clouds in the west, and this 
 still, hot air is unusual so late in the season, I am 
 sure. I have seen nothing like it since I came to 
 San BernabeV'
 
 OLD JUANA'S PROPHECY. 99 
 
 "Those clouds are full of wind, not water," 
 muttered Juana, in reply ; " and those who seek 
 for pleasure would better seek it nearer home. ' ' 
 
 " There will be a storm then ? " 
 
 ' ' Yes, but not yet ! not yet ! Not until night, 
 senorita, and do not be afraid, Mariquita ; the 
 Holy Virgin will preserve you. You are not to 
 perish in a storm of wind. Oh, no. There will 
 be people there, then, many, many people ; and 
 there will be blood, and little children will be 
 killed, and mothers will weep, and fathers will 
 curse and kill " 
 
 Mary looked in amazement at the old creature, 
 who was crouching now on the ground and draw- 
 ing mystic figures in the sand at her feet. 
 
 "What are you saying, friend?" asked Mary, 
 stooping, and laying her hand on the woman's 
 shoulder. " That there will come a danger to us 
 such as you describe ? " 
 
 " Do I not say so? No, the storm then will not 
 be of wind, and who will preserve you then ? Not 
 the most holy mother of God. No, no, no ! In 
 her name will they come." 
 
 Here she began muttering again, and Mary 
 walked off to her room and dinner, not without 
 an uncanny tinge to her thoughts. 
 
 This was quickly dispelled, however, in doing 
 justice to the dinner set before her. After dinner, 
 finding that the sun would be too hot for her visit 
 to the neighboring ranch for some time yet, she
 
 100 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 ordered one of the laborers at dinner in the court, 
 to bring the pony to the door at half-past three, 
 then setting her little alarm clock for that hour, 
 she threw herself on the bed and for two hours 
 enjoyed a sound, dreamless sleep, undisturbed by 
 any harrowing visions. 
 
 About half-past four, Mary cantered up to the 
 open doorway of a small adobe cottage in El Por- 
 venir, standing a short distance back from the 
 bridal path, which had branched off from the main 
 road a mile or so back. She slipped easily from 
 the saddle, and fastening a lasso, coiled on one side 
 of the saddle, to a strong stake in front of the 
 house, left her pony nibbling at the short, dry 
 prairie grass and went toward the house. Every- 
 thing was spotlessly neat and clean, from the sandy 
 space about the door to the little hallway, and on 
 into a large, bare reception room, called the sala. 
 As she stood at the door, a pleasant-faced woman 
 appeared from a back room and saluted her with 
 delight and affection. 
 
 " Oh, little sister, how glad I am to see you ! 
 Lola has been asking for you all day long, and 
 has sent her papa a dozen times to see if he could 
 see you coming. One of us has to stay with her 
 all the time, as she is not quite herself and tries 
 to get up and run out to the well. She is burn- 
 ing up inside, she says," and the mother's voice 
 grew very anxious.
 
 OIJD JUANA'S PROPHECY. IO1 
 
 "Let us go at once and see her, hermana"*' 
 Mary returned ; and lifting a small leather bag 
 from the step where she had placed it on her 
 arrival, she followed the woman. 
 
 The Gutierrez family were members of the San 
 Bernabe Church, and Mary had been particularly 
 attracted by the woman's pleasant manner and the 
 husband's intelligent face, even before the little 
 girl, Lola, had won her heart at school. As they 
 entered the back room, Mary's first glance saw 
 that it was very small and dark, and the closeness 
 of the air inside made her gasp for an instant. 
 The only window was but a hole, which had evi- 
 dently been dug through the wall since the build- 
 ing of the house, and the door opening into a kind 
 of shed gave little additional light and air. A 
 baby slept in the box cradle slung from the roof, 
 and on a pallet in the darkest corner lay the sick 
 child. The father sat beside her, straining his 
 eyes over a small volume which he held in his 
 hand, and which Mary recognized as the New 
 Testament. A box and a rude bed of planks, laid 
 across two supports like carpenter's "horses," and 
 a chair, were all that the room contained. 
 
 "Maestro," cried Lola's little shrill voice, "you 
 have come, my beautiful, and you will make me 
 well as you did Aunt Catarina's Samuelito ! " 
 
 Mary knelt by the side of the sick girl and 
 found her hands burning with fever, while her 
 1 Sister.
 
 102 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 bright eyes seemed to gleam out of the dark- 
 ness. 
 
 "She is very ill, senorita," said the father, 
 sadly. " Is there anything you can do for her ? " 
 
 " What have you done already ? And how long 
 has she been ill?" asked Miss Summers, with 
 her finger upon the racing pulse in the small wrist. 
 
 "She was ailing the day before yesterday, but 
 not till yesterday, when I sent you word by 
 Samuel, has she been like this. We did not 
 know what to do for her. Her tia^ made her a 
 cup of hot tea last night, but she vomited it 
 immediately, and to-day she will take nothing, 
 but cries all the while for water. Of course we 
 have not given her any, and we have kept her in 
 here so that the air would not strike her, as you 
 see." 
 
 "Now, Lolita," said the teacher, turning piti- 
 fully to the child, who was half-unconscious again, 
 " tell me, little one, what hurts thee." 
 
 " My head, oh, my head, maestra, and my arms 
 and legs." 
 
 " Poor little one ! " murmured Mary, caress- 
 ingly ; then she stood up suddenly and faced the 
 parents. 
 
 "Hermanos," she said, "do you wish me to 
 treat the child? And will you let me do with 
 her as I think best ? " 
 
 "Yes, yes," both answered together; "any- 
 
 1 Aunt.
 
 OLD JUANA'S PROPHECY. 103 
 
 thing to save our Lola's life. Her brother Juan 
 went off just this way last year." 
 
 Then Mary called the woman into the front 
 room, which had two windows, and was clean and 
 airy. 
 
 Most Mexican houses, even of the lower classes, 
 have their large sala, which is their "drawing 
 room," if they are able to afford such an apart- 
 ment, or it may contain half a dozen beds, if the 
 family is large. 
 
 Mary laid aside her hat and gloves, and going 
 out to the horse, unfastened from the saddle a 
 large bundle and brought it in with her. 
 
 "Now, hermana" she said, "while Don Juan 
 and I arrange the bed in here, I want you to put 
 on the fire the largest hoy a 1 you have, full of 
 water, and let me have a fresh gown or chemise 
 for Lola." 
 
 Under her direction the man moved the poor 
 bed into the front room, wondering greatly at the 
 change from the close, dark hole within. 
 
 "No, not that way," interrupted Mary, as he 
 was placing the bed. " Her eyes must be away 
 from the light, though we must leave the windows 
 all open for the air." 
 
 Then she took a pair of clean sheets from her 
 bundle, and a little soft pillow which had already 
 seen service in other cases of childish illness in 
 San Bernabe. 
 
 1 Earthen jar for water.
 
 104 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 "Now bring her here, Don Juan," said Mary. 
 u We must stop that suffering right away." 
 
 She made the man sit down, holding the limp 
 little form in his arms, and after taking the child's 
 temperature with her fever-thermometer, she se- 
 lected a pair of sharp scissors from her bag and 
 swiftly cut the long black hair from the fevered 
 little head. Neither father nor mother said a 
 word, though tears were streaming down the 
 cheeks of the latter as she stood holding L/ola's 
 little clean nightdress in her hands. 
 
 "Water, water," moaned the child. 
 
 Mary held a cup of cold water to the hot lips, 
 and let them drain it to the last drop. 
 
 " Now, bring me the warm water, Dona Maria ; 
 and Don Juan, you may lay her on the bed. We 
 will do the rest now, and you can rest awhile, as 
 you will have to watch her all night." And as 
 he left the room, she slipped off the dress worn 
 by the child, and when the water was brought, 
 began bathing the poor little body from head to 
 foot, and over and over again, swiftly and skillfully. 
 Then, not to exhaust her too much, they put on the 
 fresh nightdress, slipped another dry pad beneath 
 her, and laying wet cloths of cool water on her 
 head, left her in quiet for a few moments, with the 
 sheet thrown lightly over her. 
 
 Dona Maria tidied up the room, and then went 
 out to put more water on the fire. A cool breeze 
 entered the room, and the child's breathing seemed
 
 JUANA'S PROPHECY. 105 
 
 to grow easier, but on taking her temperature 
 after an interval, Mary found that it registered the 
 same high degree of fever. 
 
 She opened her bag again, and took out a box 
 of small, white powders, and taking a cup of water 
 in her hand, bade the mother lift lyola's head from 
 the pillow. She was easily roused, and opened 
 her mouth for the powder very willingly at the 
 sight of the cup of water, which was to reward 
 her. 
 
 " Now we will let her rest, Dona Maria," said 
 Mary, smiling into the anxious face of the mother. 
 " Keep changing the cloths on her head, while I 
 speak to your husband outside. In fifteen minutes 
 there should be a free perspiration, and if I find 
 her temperature lowered, Lola must have a little 
 milk. Have you any ? ' ' 
 
 " No, senorita ; but Juan will go to his sister's, 
 near by, and she will give it to him fresh from the 
 cow. She loves lyolita like a little daughter." 
 
 All came to pass as Mary had hoped. At the 
 end of twenty minutes the little aching body was 
 moist, and I/)la was sleeping quietly, with all the 
 restless twitching and moaning gone, for the 
 present. 
 
 Mary gave explicit directions as to the nourish- 
 ment to be given when the little girl should waken, 
 and left a powder to be given if the fever and rest- 
 lessness should return during the night, and then 
 she found that it was growing dusk, and that she
 
 I06 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 would have barely time to race from one ranch to 
 the other before night. 
 
 " Send me word by Samuel to-morrow when he 
 comes to school, and let me know how you passed 
 the night," she said, as she shook hands with the 
 grateful parents, who were smiling again now. 
 "I shall come again to-morrow afternoon," she 
 called, as she turned the pony's head in the direc- 
 tion of San Bernabe'.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE STORM ON THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 The Lord hath his way in the whirlwind and in the storm, and the 
 clouds are the dust of his feet. Nahum I : 3. 
 
 pony was swift, and although the cloud 
 -! which had hung about the horizon was rising 
 now and spreading over the whole western sky, 
 Mary thought that she would have time to reach 
 San Bernabe before the storm could travel across 
 the space between the cloud and herself. When 
 she left Gutierrez' house, there was a strange hush 
 over the prairie, and the air was as hot as the 
 breath of a furnace ; when she left the path and 
 turned into the high road, she suddenly felt a 
 strange difficulty in breathing, and soon, eyes, nose, 
 and mouth were filled with sand, and the pony 
 and rider were blown quite out of the road by the 
 strong, swift gust of wind which had brought the 
 sand. The little pony instinctively turned her 
 back upon the wind and planted her feet wide 
 apart upon the short, dry tufts of prairie grass and 
 waited calmly until the first fury of the gust had 
 passed. Mary's face tingled and smarted, and 
 she and the pony coughed sympathetically from 
 throats clogged with the pelting particles of sand. 
 
 107
 
 108 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 Then, when the wind had subsided for a second, 
 she started at full gallop along the three-mile road 
 leading to the ranch. The cloud now seemed to 
 cover the whole heavens, and it grew perfectly 
 dark, while the wind blew in an ever-increasing 
 gale, and the air was filled with the penetrating 
 sand. 
 
 Mary urged on her little steed, encouraging her 
 by shouting terms of endearment into her ear, 
 while the storm roared about them ; but she was 
 soon aware that they had left the road. She 
 dropped the reins then upon the pony's neck, and 
 lifting her face to the black sky in silent prayer, 
 ceased trying to direct the pony, and occupied 
 herself in peering with straining eyes in all direc- 
 tions for the lights of the village. She knew that 
 the pony would keep as near the road as the 
 strength of the gale would allow ; but the brave 
 little beast could make small headway with the 
 wind striking her full on the right side, and only 
 pausing as if to recover fresh strength for the next 
 broadside. 
 
 They had proceeded in this fashion for perhaps 
 half an hour, and utter blackness of darkness still 
 stretched before and behind, and Mary had lost 
 all idea of the direction in which San Bernabe' lay, 
 when suddenly the pony pricked up her ears and 
 gave a short, low whinny of delight. At the same 
 time, Mary heard the sound of hoofs striking 
 quickly and sharply against the loose rocks with
 
 THE STORM ON THE PRAIRIE. 109 
 
 which the whole plain was strewn, and soon a 
 voice hailed her from behind. She answered as 
 loud as she was able, but her throat and lips were 
 so dry that only a slight sound escaped them, and 
 a plunging horse, coming up from behind, was 
 passing them in the thick darkness and only a 
 few feet away, when the pony neighed again. 
 
 " Holy Virgin ! " cried the voice of Captain 
 Daniel.; " to think that we were side by side and 
 that I was passing you in the dark ! Why did you 
 not call?" 
 
 " I did call as loud as I could," shouted Mary; 
 " but the wind carried my voice away. Oh, where 
 are we, captain, and how shall I ever reach home 
 when I do not know whether the ranch is before 
 or behind me? " 
 
 " You are riding away from it as hard as you 
 can, senorita," replied Daniel, wheeling his horse 
 around and feeling for the reins which lay on the 
 pony's neck, and throwing them over his arm and 
 shouting at the top of his voice as he answered 
 her. " This little monkey knew that El Porvenir 
 was nearer than San Bernabe", and so when the 
 wind twisted her around she did not take the 
 trouble to turn again, but was making for the 
 first shelter she could find. Come now, and hold 
 on with all your strength, for Black Jane is 
 stronger than the wind, and will carry us all to 
 shelter in a few moments. Do not be afraid, little 
 one," he added, leaning over close to Mary's ear,
 
 HO A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 as she gave a startled cry when Black Jane darted 
 forward again. " Do you think that I have come 
 out to find you, all this way from home, to let 
 aught harm you now, little friend of my heart?" 
 
 She was silent, and for more reasons than one, 
 for it required all the strength of her strong, 
 young hands clutching the pony's mane to keep 
 her place on her back, as she galloped swiftly, 
 close to the big horse at her side. There was per- 
 fect silence as they tore across the plain toward 
 what Mary hoped was San Bernabe", although she 
 could not see a foot beyond the pony's nose. 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Daniel, in a surprised tone, 
 11 where are we, indeed ? " as after fifteen minutes 
 his horse stopped so suddenly as to almost dislodge 
 his rider from the saddle. " The chapel ! Well, 
 it is best. She could have stayed on but a moment 
 longer. Mother of God ! is she dead already ? " 
 But Mary opened her eyes, as she felt herself lifted 
 from the panting pony and carried, she knew not 
 whither. 
 
 ."Rest there a moment, senorita," said Daniel, 
 placing her on the ground in the darkness, and 
 she suddenly felt a great calm around her, though 
 the storm raged on beyond and above where she 
 sat leaning against a rough wall. 
 
 ' There," said Daniel, again close at her side, 
 " I have put the horses on the sheltered side of 
 the building, and they will wait for us there until 
 the storm passes."
 
 THE STORM ON THE) PRAIRIE. Ill 
 
 " But, where are we, Captain Daniel ? " asked 
 Mary, piteously. "It is so dark that I can see 
 nothing." 
 
 "This is the chapel, seiiorita, which we are 
 building in so much haste for the coming of Padre 
 Esteban," Daniel replied, sarcastically. "And 
 only the miraculous help of the Virgin Mary can 
 get this place ready for his reverence when he 
 comes on his annual rounds a few weeks from 
 now." 
 
 Mary recollected the half-finished walls of the 
 Catholic chapel, which stood on the outskirts of 
 the ranch, adjoining the little walled-in burying 
 ground, and realized that they were but a five 
 minutes' ride from Don Bduardo's house. 
 
 " But why stop here, sir, when so near home? " 
 she asked, rising to her feet, and groping her way 
 toward the doorway which showed dimly now, 
 though the storm gave no signs of abating. 
 
 " Black Jane brought us here, senorita. And 
 you would have fallen from your horse at the next 
 step. Do you know that you had already let go 
 your hold, and your eyes were closed when I 
 lifted you from the saddle ? Stay, nothing shall 
 harm you. See, I shall make a light." And he 
 struck a match, and standing in a corner carefully 
 lighted a wax taper which he carried in his 
 pocket. This he stuck in a crevice in the rough 
 wall, and then he and Mary turned and looked 
 into each other's eyes. The flickering, feeble
 
 112 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 light showed two figures in costume rather the 
 worse for the struggle with the storm, and Mary 
 laughed merrily when she saw the captain's dis- 
 may as he realized his appearance. The spotless 
 dark blue of his uniform of the morning was 
 changed into a dirty gray, while collar, cuffs, 
 hands, and face were grimy with perspiration and 
 the sticky sand. He made a movement toward 
 the light as if to extinguish it, and thus destroy 
 the annihilating effect of his dishevelled array, 
 but his companion quickly intercepted him. 
 
 " See," she exclaimed, laughing, " I am in the 
 same plight, and have lost my hat too. Oh, what 
 a dreadful ride ! " And she hastily began gather- 
 ing up the heavy masses of her golden hair, from 
 which she had lost every hairpin in that mad gal- 
 lop. Daniel forgot himself and his dismal plight 
 as he looked into the beautiful flushed face before 
 him. 
 
 " But do you think we are quite safe here ? " 
 she continued. " I have heard it said that these 
 walls are weak, and will not bear the winter rains 
 and wind. There ! " she continued, growing 
 white, as a rattling fall of rocks and dirt sounded 
 not far from them; "did you hear that? Let 
 us go. The prairie is better than this." 
 
 "No, senorita," replied Daniel; "here we are 
 safe. This is the tower, and it is of stone, while 
 the other walls are of adobe. And listen ! There 
 is hail now. Soon the tempest will be over and
 
 THE STORM ON- THE PRAIRIE. 113 
 
 we can get to the house. What is it, senorita ; are 
 you frightened ? No ? Then you are cold. And 
 it is growing cold, very cold, with this wind and 
 hail. Valgame dios? how this sand gets into one's 
 teeth and throat ! " 
 
 Mary stood in the doorway, which was on the 
 sheltered side of the little tower room, and looked 
 out upon the ground, which was growing white 
 with the pelting hail. She shivered again, and 
 longed for the shelter of her little room and the 
 comforting presence of Refugio, or of the good 
 Petra, or Jose. Then, for the first time she recol- 
 lected the picnic party, and turning to Daniel, who 
 stood at her side now, also looking out into the 
 wild darkness beyond their refuge, she asked : 
 
 "But how is it, Captain Daniel, that you met 
 me on the road, when it was yet too early for the 
 party to return? I thought you were to come 
 home late by moonlight, and where can they 
 be ? Refugio mia, where can she be in all this 
 storm, and the others? 
 
 "Do not distress yourself, senorita," her com- 
 panion replied; "they are already at home, and 
 it will be Refugio and Petra and ' the others ' who 
 are crazy about your whereabouts. Oh, it is 
 easily seen that you are no rancher a* or you 
 would have known better than to go so far from 
 home, with that kind of a cloud in the west. We 
 saw it just after dinner was over, and lost no time 
 
 1 God bless me ! 2 Country woman or peasant. 
 
 H
 
 H4 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 in packing up and coming home, and we arrived 
 just as the first gust struck us. Jose was busy get- 
 ting the animals under shelter, and so he did not 
 hear that you were away, and I told no one that I 
 was coming after you, because well, it does not 
 matter why. Old Juana was muttering something 
 about 'la Mariquita blanca" and the tempest, 
 and was grinning like the old she-devil that she 
 is, so I only asked her whither you were gone and 
 hurried after you." 
 
 " And I do not know how to thank you, Captain 
 Daniel, for you have perhaps saved rny life. And 
 what a miracle that you found me, in that pitchy 
 darkness. You would never have heard my voice 
 in all the noise, if the pony had not neighed." 
 
 " And now, instead of the music and dancing in 
 my grandfather's sala, they are all sad and won- 
 dering what has become of us, of you and me, little 
 dear one," added the captain, moving a little 
 closer to her. 
 
 "Excuse me, senor capitan" returned Mary, 
 drawing herself up to her full height, and looking 
 down into the little soldier's face. " You have 
 perhaps saved my life to-night, and I have thanked 
 you, but I cannot permit you to speak thus to me. 
 Understand me, if you please ; and now, I am 
 sure we can go on to the house. I arn not afraid 
 of getting wet, and it is only raining. Come, I am 
 going," she added, decidedly, stepping out of the 
 
 1 The little white Mary.
 
 THE STORM ON THE PRAIRIE. 115 
 
 tower and looking up to the sky, which was still 
 very black. 
 
 The wind and hail were over, however, 
 and the captain followed the young woman to 
 where the horses were neighing in an angle be- 
 tween the tower and an adjoining wall. He 
 ground his teeth at this unexpected, ending of 
 such a romantic situation, and in sullen silence 
 helped Mary to mount her pony. 
 
 A loud barking of dogs and a confused babel 
 of tongues greeted them as they rode through the 
 gates which had been left wide open since the 
 return of the picnic party. Petra and Refugio 
 were at Mary's side in a moment as she rode to 
 her own door, and the trio, joined by Raquel and 
 most of the other women, vanished within and 
 Mary, at least, was seen no more that night. 
 
 Jose followed Daniel to his room, whither he 
 hurried to change his dusty and damp clothing, 
 and shut the door. 
 
 " Well ? " said Jose, briefly, as Daniel began to 
 disrobe. 
 
 "Well," replied Daniel, as briefly. 
 
 " Where didst thou find her? " 
 
 "Traveling away from San Bernabe" as fast as 
 she could in the dark." 
 
 " And thou broughtest her back?" 
 
 "And I brought her back." 
 
 After a pause, while Daniel sat half-dressed on 
 the edge of his bed, Jose said :
 
 Il6 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 " Thou art tired, old fellow. Come in to supper ; 
 they have kept it hot for thee." 
 
 " I want no supper, leave me here. I shall go 
 to bed," dejectedly. 
 
 " But the dancing and and our little cousin. 
 She will be disappointed, I can tell thee ; she has 
 watched anxiously for thy coming. Coine, I shall 
 not leave thee here." 
 
 Thus adjured, Daniel easily persuaded himself 
 that his presence was necessary to the enjoyment 
 of the festivities of the evening, and he soon 
 issued from his room freshly attired and with but 
 the suspicion of a cloud resting upon his coun- 
 tenance. He noticed as he crossed the court that 
 the sky was clearing also, and that the moon was 
 shining through the rifts in the clouds. 
 
 It was Jose" who remained in his room that 
 evening, but as he seldom danced, few noted his 
 absence from the sala. The " little cousin " in- 
 deed pouted as she flew around the room, but 
 the captain was far from guessing the reason of 
 that rosy pouting and easily forgot to ask it, while 
 the merry black eyes sparkled and flashed upon 
 him and the warm little hands trembled within 
 his own.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 LOLA'S QUESTION. 
 
 Wherever souls are being tried and ripened, in whatever common 
 place and homely ways there God is hewing out the pillars of his 
 temple. Phillips Brooks. 
 
 THE sun appeared the next morning in a 
 bright, cloudless sky, and on the treeless 
 prairie no trace was left of the storm of the night 
 before. Men and women went about the ranch 
 muffled in blankets and shawls, for it was bitter 
 cold, and noses and ears were nipped by the biting 
 air until they were blue and numb. 
 
 Mary waked with extra bed-covering tucked 
 closely about her head and shoulders. At the 
 first sound she made, Refugio entered, bringing 
 fresh water from the well and a bright morning 
 greeting upon her rosy face. 
 
 "Why, Refugio," exclaimed Mary, with her 
 teeth chattering, "what does this mean? Has 
 winter come at last? And who covered ine so 
 warmly with the blankets ? " 
 
 " It was I, senorita," replied Refugio, showing 
 her milk-white teeth in a brilliant smile. " You 
 slept so soundly. ' ' 
 
 " Cuca is really beautiful," thought Mary, 
 
 117
 
 Il8 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 watching the girl's radiant face as she prepared 
 the bath. 
 
 "Yes," continued the girl, "winter is now here 
 and it is very cold this morning, but so clear and 
 beautiful. After a while the sun will warm the 
 air, and by noon it will be almost warm again, 
 but there will be no more hot days and nights 
 now. This is the best time of the whole year, I 
 think, for later the rains will come and then you 
 may well say, ' It is cold,' valgame Dios ! " 
 
 "Refugio," said Mary, gravely, "have you 
 forgotten, and are you never going to learn that 
 it is wrong to use that expression? " 
 
 " Senorita, pardon me," replied the girl, peni- 
 tently. " It is so hard to stop saying what one 
 always says without thinking." 
 
 ''That is one reason why you should not say it, 
 child. If you were really thinking of God and 
 speaking to him it would be different. As you 
 are not, it is sinful, for we are told not to take his 
 name in va : n." 
 
 " I shall try to remember better, indeed I shall, 
 sefiorita. But surely you are not going to take 
 your bath cold this morning. I put the kettle on 
 the stove and the water is hot by now. Ugh ! " 
 she shivered as Mary plunged her fair, round arms 
 into the fresh water. 
 
 " No warm water for me, thank you," declared 
 Mary. ' Now go, if you have had your breakfast, 
 Cuca, and open the schoolroom doors wide, so
 
 LITTLE LOLA'S QUESTION. 1 19 
 
 that we may have fresh air in plenty to-day. I 
 feel as if I could fly," she continued to herself, as 
 Refugio closed the door, ' ' and as if a breath of 
 the dear home winter had come to me. I can go 
 to see L,ola to-day at noon, without waiting for the 
 afternoon, with who knows what kind of wild ex- 
 periences, wind and black horses, and towers and 
 captains, and all that kind of thing. Heigh-ho ! 
 I will play that was all a dream of last night." 
 
 "Ay, Ay/" 1 sighed Refugio to herself, after 
 leaving her teacher alone, " if it is cold water that 
 does it, that gives my Mariquita such soft, white 
 skin, I would even like to try it myself. But I 
 suppose it is too late now," she added, ruefully, 
 rolling up her sleeve and passing her brown hand 
 over her smooth, rounded arm. 
 
 She was nearing the schoolhouse door as she 
 spoke half aloud, and was surprised to find it 
 already open. Jose, seated at the organ, was turn- 
 ing over the leaves of a music book containing a 
 number of simple chants and melodies. He 
 nodded, smilingly, to Refugio as she entered, and 
 began playing while she went softly about the 
 room gathering up bits of paper and arranging 
 books and seats for the little scholars who were to 
 come later. Jose", in the midst of his laborious 
 spelling out of the notes, looked up once and found 
 Refugio standing at his side with puzzled eyes. 
 He stopped playing and asked her of what she 
 
 1 Exclamation of pain or grief.
 
 120 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 was thinking, and then he, like Mary, noted with 
 surprise the rich beauty of the girl of whom he 
 had never taken especial notice before. 
 
 " Don Jose, perhaps you can tell me what is the 
 difference between the Americanos and ourselves : 
 that is, why is my scnorita so sweet and fair to 
 look at, and we and I so ugly and brown ? Is it, 
 do you think, the soap and water that makes the 
 difference? Of course I use them also," she 
 added, hastily. "The senorita has taught me 
 that to be healthy one must be clean ; but she is 
 like a duck for water ! " 
 
 "Of course, child," replied Jose", " you must have 
 sense enough to know that no washing can ever 
 change the color of any one's skin. I do not know 
 very much, myself, about the cause of the differ- 
 ence in the color of different nations, but I know 
 that we get our dark skin partly from our Indian 
 ancestors and partly from the hot sun of this cli- 
 mate. All nations living in the countries where 
 the sun is hottest have dark-colored skins and 
 dark hair and eyes, while those of colder climates 
 have white skin, and blue eyes, and fair hair. I 
 cannot tell you why, but all the soap and water in 
 Mexico will not make you or me white." 
 
 "But you are almost fair, Don Jose"," said 
 Refugio. "Almost as fair as the gringo* who 
 stopped in our village and told me about my sweet 
 angel Maria." 
 
 1 Foreigner.
 
 LITTLE LOLA'S QUESTION. 121 
 
 "Go on with your work, child, " replied Jose", 
 closing the book and organ. " It is almost school 
 time, and here come the children already. And 
 mind, do not chatter so much about dark skin and 
 white. Remember that you are a Mexican, and 
 as God made you. Only keep your heart clean, 
 and " 
 
 "That is good advice, Jose", " interrupted Miss 
 Summers' voice at the open door, and a red flush 
 dyed the young man's whole face and neck, as 
 she entered, fresh and rosy from her brisk run 
 to the schoolhouse. Her blue flannel dress and 
 blue riding cap looked comfortable and suitable 
 for such a wintry morning, and.Refugio clasped 
 her hands in delight at the sight of the long plait 
 of hair which reached below her teacher's waist. 
 
 "That is all that we need to care much about 
 in this world, isn't it, Jose", clean hands and pure 
 hearts? And a fresh, clean morning like this 
 makes one feel like beginning all over again to 
 make one's life as pure and fair, does it not? 
 Will you tell some one, please, to saddle Blanquilla 
 and have her ready for me, here at the door, at 
 twelve o'clock?" she continued, as Jose" stepped 
 past the little children who were gathering about 
 the door. 
 
 "Certainly, sefiorita," he answered. "And I 
 hope you are well after last night's wetting. It 
 did you no harm ? " 
 
 "Not the least," she replied, smiling ; "but I
 
 122 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 have learned a lesson that I shall not soon forget, 
 to beware of threatening black clouds in the 
 west after thn. Ah! here is Samuel. Corne, 
 child, and tell me the news of Lolita. What mes- 
 sage did her father send me ? " 
 
 Mary hung her cap on a nail and sitting, drew 
 toward her a curly-haired boy of ten years, who 
 was eagerly waiting to deliver his news. 
 
 "Lolita is better, sefiorita," he replied, "and 
 my /a? 1 Juan told me to say to you that she is cool 
 this morning and that she slept well last night 
 She drank a little drop of milk too this morning, 
 that I carried her in my china cup but, senorita, 
 she could not speak to me, she was so weak, and 
 her eyes did not look like Lola's eyes." 
 
 "I shall go with you, dear, at dinner time to see 
 Lola, and you shall ride behind me on the pony. 
 Come now, queridos* it is school time. Ring the 
 bell, Juan ! " 
 
 Mary's heart swelled with thankfulness and 
 love as her children gathered about her, and a 
 prayer was in her heart all the morning : 
 
 "Father, give me these little ones to train for 
 thee, until they are able to walk in thy way alone 
 and able to teach others the way. Let them be a 
 part of my offering to thee when my life is over, 
 and let not one be lost ! " 
 
 Three hours later sturdy little Blanquilla easily 
 carried her double load along the road from which 
 
 1 Uncle. * Dear ones.
 
 UTTLE LOLA'S QUESTION. 123 
 
 she had been so unceremoniously turned the night 
 before by the wind, and Samuel never forgot his 
 gallop behind the maestra, on the pony's back. 
 
 Lola was better, but looked faint and hollow- 
 eyed when Mary approached her bed. Her mother 
 was coaxing her to take a spoonful of watery- 
 looking broth when Mary arrived, and was glad 
 to give up her post to the young teacher, as Lola 
 refused to open her pale lips. 
 
 "What would you like, Lolita?" asked Mary, 
 smoothing gently the shorn black locks of the 
 little girl, "What can you take, little one? " 
 
 " Not the soup, sefiorita. I cannot bear it." 
 
 " And she will not take the milk either, sefior- 
 ita," complained the mother. 
 
 "It does not taste good, and I do not like it," 
 wailed the little girl. 
 
 Mary thought a moment and then left the room. 
 She took a bottle of "beef juice" from her bag, 
 and a small package of crackers, and going into 
 the kitchen found a pot of hot water on the fire. 
 She prepared and daintily seasoned a small cup 
 of broth from the beef extract and hot water, and 
 crumbling a cracker into it, carried it to Lola. 
 The taste of the savory broth pleased the child's 
 fancy and she took the whole cupful, fed by her 
 loved teacher's hand. 
 
 ' ' And now, little one, you will feel better, I 
 think," said Mary, as the child smiled back at 
 her. " And when mother brings you a little cool
 
 124 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 milk and a cracker after a while, you will take it 
 like a good child, will you not, dear? " 
 
 "Yes, senorita, I shall not be naughty any 
 more, now. And shall I soon be well enough to 
 go to school again ? All the girls will have learned 
 so many more verses than I have. Why do you 
 think God made me sick, maestra?" 
 
 "That is just what I was asking myself and him 
 too, last night" chimed in Juan, the father, who 
 had come in from work and was standing looking 
 down upon his child. " I sat there all night long, 
 because my wife had to keep the baby in the 
 other room, as his fretting disturbed Lolita. 
 And I could not help asking why God was giving 
 so much pain to our innocent little one. I can 
 understand, senorita, why he should give us grown- 
 up ones pain and sorrow of all kinds, for surely 
 we deserve more of both than we get but that 
 baby there, what has she done ? " 
 
 "Do you think, Juan, that a wise God, who is 
 ruler of the world he has made as well as Father 
 of his creatures, lets his world go on and on, and 
 grow and improve, without some wise laws for 
 governing it ? We think a great deal of his laws 
 for the good of our souls, and we know that if we 
 break one of these laws and sin, we shall suffer in 
 some way, from remorse in ourselves, if from no 
 other punishment. Well, he has made ' natural 
 laws,' also, that is, laws that control nature and 
 the life and health of our bodies. Now, if we
 
 LITTLE LOLA'S QUESTION. 125 
 
 should leave Lola to herself for two or three days, 
 and should give her nothing to eat or drink, what 
 would happen?" 
 
 " She would die, pobrecita" replied the father. 
 
 "Yes, surely, and why? From any sin of her 
 heart?" 
 
 " No, indeed ; only because we should have been 
 careless and neglected her." 
 
 " Rather, because the life of her body depends 
 upon the nourishment it receives, as life cannot go 
 on without proper support. You may fix that as 
 one of God's natural laws, Juan. Often we cannot 
 know just what we have done, or what others may 
 have done, to cause distress or disease of the body, 
 but we must know that some law has been vio- 
 lated, sometime, somehow ; and God, as a wise 
 ruler, permits the result. Now, perhaps Lola 
 was exposed to the sun during one of those hot 
 days last week, and perhaps she had headache for 
 several days. Still she begged to go to school, 
 and you could not refuse her, even though I sent 
 you word that she seemed feverish and had better 
 be kept at home. She craved cool drinks and 
 later fresh air. You denied them because you 
 thought that they would be dangerous. You 
 simply did not know, you see, although you did 
 your best." 
 
 ' ' Then ignorance is one of the causes of sick- 
 ness and death. Do you mean that, senorita ? " 
 
 " Ignorance of certain laws and truths concern-
 
 126 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 ing our bodily needs, yes ; just as much as smd 
 sin is, my friend." 
 
 " But it is very sad that our children must suffer 
 from simple ignorance, senorita," remarked the 
 mother, who sat on the floor nursing her baby. 
 Lola had dropped asleep now with her question 
 unanswered and forgotten. 
 
 ' ' Yes, and that we must bear the penalty of the 
 ignorance and mistakes of others," Mary assented. 
 
 "What is to be done about it, I cannot see," 
 sighed Juan. ' ' Now we, wife and I, since we 
 have known you and have heard you talk, have 
 tried to live differently. We are poor, but you 
 taught us that we could be clean as long as there 
 was water to be had. Yet, being clean is not all, 
 even if poor working folks could always keep 
 clean. We are ignorant of all those laws that you 
 have been telling us about, and how can we keep 
 rules that we do not know and have never heard 
 of?" 
 
 " True, Juan, you cannot ; and you are only one 
 of the many sufferers from the neglect of those 
 who do know. But there is much that you can 
 learn since you can read. There is a little book 
 on ' Health and how to keep it,' that is being 
 translated into Spanish now by a friend of mine, 
 who is as much interested as I am in the needs of 
 people just like you, and she is writing and trans- 
 lating, while I am trying to do what I can." 
 
 "And bless your heart for it," interrupted the
 
 LITTLE LOLA'S QUESTION. 127 
 
 woman, her eyes resting gratefully upon her sleep- 
 ing child. 
 
 " Perhaps I can help you by repeating some- 
 thing of what I have already tried to tell you be- 
 fore. A clean body, fed three times a day, with 
 simple, well-cooked food, and rested by eight or 
 nine hours of quiet sleep out of the twenty-four, 
 ought to be a healthy body, strong enough to work 
 ten or twelve hours without fatigue, if there is no 
 disease. Life should be regular, happy, full of 
 love and charity. I believe men's souls would be 
 better if their bodies were kept in better repair. " 
 
 " Speaking of disease, sefiorita, have you ever 
 seen the poor little idiot grandchild of old Dona 
 Juana's at your ranch? You know his body is 
 covered with sores, and he smells so badly that no 
 one can stay near him." 
 
 " Yes, I have seen him, and have in vain begged 
 the grandmother to 'let me try to cure him. The 
 whole disease comes from dirt, and the child will 
 perish miserably before very long. As soon as I 
 mentioned soap and water she utterly refused to 
 let me touch him. Of course I do not mean to 
 say that dirt causes all the dreadful diseases that 
 we have in Mexico. It is only among the most 
 ignorant and those who live like the brutes, who 
 do not wash at all. We need more however than 
 a hasty washing of hands and face once or twice 
 a day ; we need the refreshing daily bath to open 
 the pores of the skin, then deep, strong breathing
 
 128 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 in the fresh air to swell and strengthen the lungs ; 
 we need to feel kindly toward our families and our 
 neighbors in order to be happy, and above all, as I 
 heard some one say this morning, we must keep 
 our hearts clean ; for as the health of our bodies 
 affects our souls, just so our bodily health depends 
 to a degree upon the soul. And now I must go, 
 friends ; I did not mean to stay so long, but it helps 
 me to talk to those who are anxious to learn, and 
 I grow stronger too. So do not let us doubt our 
 Father's love and care for us, even though we do 
 suffer and see the innocent suffer. We can see 
 but a tiny corner of his great world, while we 
 know that he holds the whole universe in the 
 hollow of his hand." 
 
 " Yes, yes, senorita ; and I can tell you that last 
 night while I watched our Lola, lying so white 
 and weak and scarcely breathing, and while I was 
 asking him why it must be, I really could say 
 the words we read in Sunday-school last Sunday, 
 ' Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him,' and 
 I knew that even if he did think it best to take 
 our child away from us, I would trust him. ' ' 
 
 " She will do well now, I think," said Mary, 
 rising. " Coax her to take a cup of -milk boiled, 
 please, hot or cold as she likes best, or a cup of 
 the beef-tea, every three or four hours when she 
 does not sleep. See, here is the bottle of ' extract ' ; 
 put a small spoonful to a cup of hot water with a 
 little salt. If she has no more fever, give her a
 
 LOLA'S QUESTION. 1 29 
 
 little boiled rice to-morrow and the crackers if she 
 likes them Now good-bye, I must hurry home 
 for school." 
 
 As she galloped away, Juan and his wife stood 
 in their doorway gazing after her until horse and 
 rider were but a black speck on the wide, white 
 prairie. 
 
 " Bless her ! " exclaimed the woman. " If she 
 is not an angel, may I never see one on earth or 
 in heaven." 
 
 "Angel? Yes, and dost thou know what the 
 word means, wife? Angel, is messenger, and I 
 am sure that the message she brings comes straight 
 from God. Why has no one like her come to us 
 before? If our parents and grandparents had 
 known what Ix)la and the baby there will learn, 
 I hope, perhaps thou and I would have been differ- 
 ent creatures, wife. ' ' 
 
 "Well, I am sure I have always tried to take 
 care of my children, ' ' said the wife, ' ' but it seems 
 as if I should know how better now." 
 
 "And I shall help thee," said Juan, taking his 
 wife's hand affectionately.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 DONA RAQUEL'S CONFESSION. 
 
 In God's world, for those who are in earnest, there is no failure. 
 No work truly done, no word earnestly spoken, no sacrifice freely 
 made, was ever made in vain. F. \V. Robertson, 
 
 AS Mary neared the ranch she thought she 
 saw several persons standing about the half- 
 finished chapel which had been her refuge from 
 the storm the night before, and which stood at a 
 short distance from the high road on the outskirts 
 of the ranch. Then she became sure that one of 
 the figures was beckoning to her, and she turned 
 the pony's head aside from the road and ap- 
 proached the chapel. The persons proved to be 
 Don Bduardo, his wife, Dona Raquel, and the 
 little boy, Benjamin. They were standing on the 
 warm, sunny side of the building, and the two 
 elders seemed to be discussing something very 
 earnestly. 
 
 Don Eduardo came toward the pony and begged 
 that Mary would alight for a moment. The old 
 man was closely wrapped in a coarse red blanket, 
 and his head was tied up in a red cotton handker- 
 chief, surmounted by a broad-brimmed sombrero. 
 His dark, wrinkled face beamed with pleasure as 
 130
 
 DONA RAQUEI/S CONFESSION. 131 
 
 he addressed Miss Summers, for she was a great 
 favorite with him. 
 
 " Wilt thou come, Senorita Maria, and tell my 
 wife what she ought to do ? See," he continued, 
 leading Mary around the corner behind the little 
 tower, " this wall is bending inward, and there 
 are great cracks along the adjoining side." 
 
 " Yes, I see," answered Mary, after greeting 
 Dona Raquel, who stood a little apart and who 
 was listening somewhat shyly, Mary thought, to 
 what her husband was saying; "but I do not 
 quite understand what either Dona Raquel or I 
 have to do with it. Last night's storm injured 
 the building, it seems." She spoke with her voice 
 raised so that the old man might hear, and he was 
 watching her face earnestly. 
 
 " Tell her all about it, Raquel mia" he said, 
 turning to his wife ; ' ' thou canst make her under- 
 stand better than I." 
 
 "Well, Mariquita," Raquel explained, "it is 
 just this, and I have often wished to talk to thee 
 about it. Thou seest it is I who have promised 
 this chapel to the priest, Padre Esteban." She 
 paused a moment for some expression of surprise 
 from Mary, but none came. She simply sat on a 
 large stone and waited to hear more. " There has 
 never been one in San Bernabe, and the padre at 
 every visit has said what a shame it was that we 
 should be content to go to mass so far away as La 
 Bienvenida, and last December, a year ago, he
 
 132 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 became angry and said, in the hearing of the 
 whole village, that unless a chapel was built 01 
 some house was turned into a church before his 
 next coining, which will be during this month, 
 he would excommunicate the whole village. 
 Now, Jose and Petra do not believe that he would 
 have the power to do any such thing, for most of 
 the people, the women at least, are good Catholics, 
 and they say it was only the padre's jealousy and 
 fear of the Protestants that made him speak so 
 boldly. But I believed him, and on the last day 
 of his stay I talked with him privately, and when 
 he left I had promised to have a small chapel at 
 least sufficiently completed for services by the 
 time he should come again. He went away in 
 great good humor, blessing the whole ranch and 
 telling us what great good fortune and happiness 
 would come to us, and how the Virgin would come 
 and dwell among us in spirit, and much more 
 besides. Well, on that day, I set the men to work. 
 Eduardo would have nothing to do with it, of 
 course, but the money was mine, left me by my 
 father, and Eduardo is always good and lets me 
 have my own way in everything, so he did not 
 oppose me. The foundations were dug and the 
 walls were begun before much rain fell, and then 
 for two whole months it rained, and it was impos- 
 sible to work. Jose* was as eager as I to finish the 
 house, and he fretted sorely at the delay, for he 
 was a good Catholic then, I can tell you."
 
 DOfiA RAQUEI/S CONFESSION. 133 
 
 "Was then," thought Mary to herself. "I 
 wonder what he is now." 
 
 " But the adobes were all spoiled. There, do 
 you see that great bank of earth out there ? That 
 is part of the hundreds of adobes that we hauled 
 from El Sago instead of making them here, for 
 the time was short. So all went wrong ; for after 
 the rains lessened, the weather grew colder than 
 we have ever known it to be in San Bernabe', and 
 the Chavis baby brought the small-pox from 
 
 S , and soon there was scarcely a house where 
 
 there was not a child sick or dying with it. 
 When the spring came, they began again on the 
 building, and by the time the men had put the 
 crops in the ground, this much," pointing to the 
 wall behind her, " was finished. This has been 
 a long tale, sefiorita, but I wanted thee to under- 
 stand it well." 
 
 " I am glad you have told me, Dona Raquel. 
 But I cannot understand why I have not known 
 before that you were building the chapel ; and if 
 you are, why do you not finish it? " 
 
 " That is what I am coming to now," resumed 
 Dona Raquel. She drew nearer to Eduardo and 
 Mary, and raised her voice so that the old man 
 might know how her explanation was progressing. 
 Benjamin rolled in the sun at her feet, and threw 
 stones at the prairie dogs that were popping in and 
 out of their holes near by. 
 
 "We have a month longer for the work," con-
 
 134 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 tinned Raquel, " for the padre has sent word that 
 he will not be here before Christmas eve, and the 
 weather is fine, and the men almost through with 
 the beans and corn. It can be easily finished in 
 a month, for only the roof and inside work are 
 lacking." 
 
 "Well, I suppose that they will begin work 
 again then, if there is nothing to hinder," said 
 Mary, a little impatient at this hindrance, when 
 she was so hungry and the school hour at hand. 
 
 " No, Jose* refuses to touch it or to direct the 
 men," declared Raquel. " He says that the walls 
 are dangerous and not fit to hold the heavy beams 
 of the roof." 
 
 "True enough," interrupted Eduardo. "Jose 
 is right. When the wall of my house caved in, 
 and a beam fell and struck my wife and killed 
 her, I vowed to have nothing more to do with soft, 
 insecure walls, and she was Josh's mother." 
 
 "But I believe that that is not Josh's true 
 reason. He has lost all interest in the chapel, 
 and not only does not wish to help build it, he 
 does not wish to see it built. And, senorita," 
 whispered the woman, turning away shamefacedly 
 from her husband and bending toward Mary's ear, 
 " neither do I. There, I have said it. Now, what 
 is to be done ? " 
 
 "Dona Raquel," exclaimed Mary, "is it possi- 
 ble that I understand you to mean that you no 
 longer wish to build this chapel because because
 
 RAQTJEL'S CONFESSION. 135 
 
 . Tell me why you have changed your 
 
 mind?" 
 
 "It is this way," replied the woman, bravely. 
 ' ' I have never gone to thy church, though Edu- 
 ardo has often asked me to go, if only to see that 
 there is no harm done there ; but I have never 
 gone. Since thou hast been here, and I have 
 heard thee talk about the right way to honor and 
 worship God and Christ, and since thou hast ex- 
 plained to me and Petra and the other women just 
 what the Holy Bible does say of the Virgin Mary, 
 I have found myself thinking strange thoughts. 
 And now I can no longer believe just what Padre 
 Esteban would have me believe. When he comes, 
 I shall not confess to him. He is only a man, and 
 I have not sinned against him. And if the Son 
 of Mary is the only intercessor, as thy Bible says, 
 I shall pray no longer to her. God is my judge, 
 and his Son is my Saviour, and besides these there 
 is no other." She paused, almost breathless, and 
 a fire of enthusiasm glowed in her deeply set dark 
 eyes. 
 
 Mary grasped her hand, speechless. Eduardo 
 looked his satisfaction and patted his wife's other 
 hand. 
 
 " Softly, wife, softly ! " he said. " I think the 
 senorita understands now, and thou must not let 
 thyself get excited. Thou must think what thou 
 wilt do." 
 
 Mary recognized in this confession of Raquel
 
 136 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 the result of a long period of struggle and earnest 
 thought. How little she had realized what was 
 going on in this quiet woman's heart, as she went 
 silently about her work at home. She remembered 
 now the intentness of the gaze which Raquel 
 had fixed upon her often in the small weekly 
 "mothers' meetings " which she had been induced 
 to attend. She had had no listener more en- 
 couraging, but the woman had never cared, her- 
 self, to talk about her religious belief. And now 
 if the eyes of this one were opening to the light, 
 surely Petra, who had long inclined toward the 
 simplicity and beauty of the newly taught relig- 
 ion, would follow her, and even perhaps Jose. 
 Those three, of so much influence in the ranch, 
 could help her to do away with much of the dis- 
 favor in which Protestantism was held there. 
 
 " Dear Raquel," murmured Mary, rising, for it 
 was now past the hour for opening school. " You 
 have given me more happiness than I have ever 
 known before. We will ask God to help us in 
 what we are to do. You have asked for my advice, 
 and as we must try to act wisely in this matter, 
 you must give me a little time to think. Be sure 
 to come to the ' mothers' meeting ' this afternoon, 
 and in the evening I will go to you, and when all 
 of us are together, we will talk of this. I hope 
 that Jose* will be present also. " 
 
 The others agreed to this without hesitation, 
 and Mary left them still basking in the sun, while
 
 DONA RAQUEI/S CONFESSION. 137 
 
 she hurried back to the pony. As she slipped her 
 arm through the bridle to lead him to the house, 
 she passed the door of the tower which rose just 
 behind that part of the building near which the 
 foregoing conversation had been held. She was 
 considerably startled when a harsh voice accosted 
 her from the interior, and then the uncouth figure 
 of old Juana appeared in the doorway. 
 
 "Aha, little white-skinned gringa ! " she cried, 
 "did I not tell you the truth? And the Holy 
 Virgin, bless her ! did preserve you in the storm. 
 Is it not so ? And here within her own walls you 
 found safety, you and the soldier Daniel ! " 
 
 Mary stood still, shocked by the look of fury on 
 the woman's face, which grew more intense as she 
 continued. 
 
 " But by all the saints, I swear that she will not 
 preserve you in that other storm that is to come. 
 Who are you, little Protestant witch, to come here, 
 and with your pretty face and soft voice bewitch 
 all the house of Vera, so that they give themselves 
 over to perjury and deny their vows? Mother of 
 God ! But if this chapel is not finished and 
 ready for the padre, a curse will be upon you and 
 upon all whom you have led astray ! And I can 
 tell you that there are others here who feel as I 
 do." She ceased speaking from want of breath, 
 and stood, a threatening figure framed by the 
 doorway, while the idiot grandchild peered, 
 grinning, from behind the grandmother's skirts.
 
 138 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 Mary believed the old woman crazed, and 
 thought it best to take no notice of her fierce 
 words, so she walked steadily on toward the road 
 after the first pause of dismay. 
 
 "Juana ought to be looked after," she thought 
 to herself. " She gets worse and worse, and some 
 day she will be dangerous. I must speak to 
 Raqttel about her. How tired I am, and hungry 
 too." 
 
 When she reached the schoolhouse all was quiet 
 inside, and she found Refugio in her chair, while 
 all the scholars sat contentedly with their books 
 in hand. 
 
 " Thank you, Refugio ! " she said, stopping for 
 an instant ; "I am glad you were so thoughtful. 
 I was detained and it is long past two o'clock. 
 Keep the children quiet awhile longer, for I must 
 get a mouthful to eat, before I come back. Carlos, 
 get on the pony, my boy, and take her to the 
 stables. Poor Blanquilla is hungry and thirsty 
 too." 
 
 Mary did not find herself quite so hungry as 
 she supposed, when she sat down before the 
 dinner which Petra brought smoking from the 
 kitchen. She could not eat. 
 
 "A slice of grandmother's white loaf-bread, 
 with good, fresh butter would taste better than all 
 these mixtures. I am tired of beans and eggs and 
 tortillas," she thought. 
 
 The words were childish, she knew, but she felt
 
 DONA RAQUEL'S CONFESSION. 139 
 
 homesick, weary, and as if the responsibilities of 
 the day were growing too heavy for her own weak 
 shoulders alone. Her joy at Raquel's confession was 
 shadowed by the realization now of what dissen- 
 sions this defection from the common cause would 
 create in the community, and old Juana's words, 
 insane though they were, seemed to threaten some- 
 thing like danger to the good people who were shel- 
 tering her. A heavy thud on the roof overhead 
 made her start with something like terror, but the 
 next moment she remembered that Jose" was hav- 
 ing the roof repaired to-day prior to the winter 
 rains, and that the noise was only the emptying of 
 a load of earth on the roof of her room. She 
 laughed then at her nervousness, and chided her- 
 self for the momentary lapse from the trust in God 
 her Father, who alone could give the necessary 
 confidence and strength for what was before her. 
 Promising herself a cup of tea after school for 
 refreshment and strength, she left the almost un- 
 tasted dinner and before resuming her hat, shut 
 herself in her quiet bedroom. Whatever hap- 
 pened within, she came out a few minutes later, 
 with peace and content restored to her face and a 
 song upon her lips. 
 
 Juanito Vera nestled close against her shoulder 
 during the last half-hour of school that afternoon, 
 and she noticed that the hand he laid upon her 
 arm was dry and hot, while his beautiful eyes 
 looked dim and drowsy. He was ready with his
 
 140 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 verse, however, and the other little ones grew very 
 still as he repeated it. Somehow they loved to 
 hear the little talk between their teacher and Juan, 
 which always accompanied his verse, for he often 
 asked a quaint question, or gave unexpected re- 
 plies to the teacher's inquiries. He was a strange, 
 thoughtful child, and his first liking for Mary had 
 grown into an adoration very pretty to see, and as 
 she had hoped, had resulted in a nearer acquaint- 
 ance with the mother, Martina, who had married a 
 nephew of old Vera. Martina was still shy, and 
 had never yet visited Mary, or attended worship 
 in the schoolhouse; but Mary had been to her 
 house several times, and had learned something 
 of the woman's saddened life. Of four sons, only 
 Juan remained, and he was her only joy in the 
 little home, where the husband and father was 
 worse than worthless. 
 
 This afternoon, after repeating the verse which 
 had been given him to learn, his eyes brightened 
 a little, and he said, eagerly : 
 
 " Mamma and I found another verse last night, 
 while papa was out. We found it in my little 
 Testament which you gave me, and I think it is 
 such a beautiful one. Listen : ' We love him, be- 
 cause he first loved us.' I think all the verses 
 about love are so beautiful. Do you not? " 
 
 " Indeed I do, dear child," Mary replied. " But 
 who is it, Juan, who loved us first?" 
 
 " Mamma asked me, and I told her that I was sure
 
 DONA RAQUEX'S CONFESSION. 141 
 
 it was the Christ, because he loves us better than 
 anybody in the world can, and he has done so 
 much for us that we just cannot help loving him." 
 
 " And did mamma also think it was Jesus? " 
 
 " At first she said that it must mean the Holy 
 Virgin, because the church teaches that it is she 
 who loves the world best, but I showed her that 
 it was he not she in the book, and she said it must 
 be as I had said. Was I right, senorita ? " 
 
 " Yes, Juan ; and never forget it, children," she 
 said, looking tenderly into all the dark eyes lifted 
 to her own. "The dear Saviour loves us more 
 than we can imagine. He loves you so that he is 
 sad when you are sick or sinful, and he has done 
 what he could to save you from sickness and from 
 sin." 
 
 " Does he love me as much as my mamma does?" 
 asked Emilia, a bright-eyed midget of six years. 
 
 1 ' More, much more, my dear child. And he is 
 always patient and forgiving if we are sorry when 
 we do wrong, and if we ask him to forgive us." 
 
 " Does he know when I cry when grandmamma 
 beats me?" asked another girl with a white, 
 pinched face and ragged clothes. 
 
 " He sees every tear, Lucia, and he knows how 
 to comfort you if you will only tell him that you 
 want him to comfort and help you. ' ' 
 
 " How good he must be, and how I love him,'* 
 sighed Juan. 
 
 "Well, I just can't love him," exclaimed a tall
 
 142 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 girl, in a defiant tone, " because I have never seen 
 him, and I do not know what he looks like nor 
 where he is. And the picture we used to have of 
 him hanging in our house was too dreadful for any 
 one to love. / shall wait till I see him before I 
 say that I love him." 
 
 "He loves you, my dear, even though you do 
 not know him yet," returned her teacher, softly, as 
 she went to the organ for the closing hymn, and 
 without giving the girl time to reply she began to 
 sing 
 
 Jesus, lover of my soul, 
 
 in a low, tender voice. Noticing that Juan did 
 not join in with the others, she looked down at the 
 little fellow at her elbow and saw his eyes brim- 
 ming over with tears.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 FRIENDSHIP'S PROOF. 
 
 A friend loveth at all times. Prov. 17 : 17. 
 
 WHEN, the same aftemoon, Mary and her faith- 
 ful shadow, Refugio, entered the house 
 where the women and girls gathered each week 
 for simple study of the Bible with the young mis- 
 sionary, the room was nearly full. It was in the 
 home of one of the church-members, who was 
 rather better off than most of the little band, and 
 who had a large sala opening directly upon the 
 road. The women were sitting on stools or chairs 
 on the earth floor, and some on the low bed, and 
 others in the doorway. Several babies lay crow- 
 ing at their mothers' feet, and a huge rooster was 
 tied by one leg to a table in a dark corner. All 
 were talking at a great rate, and there were several 
 new faces among the usual comers. Only Raquel 
 sat silent, quietly knitting away at a coarse woolen 
 sock for her husband. Mary noticed with pleasure 
 Martina's spare figure sitting by Petra, while the 
 latter was playing with the infant of another 
 woman, trotting it on her knee. 
 
 When the young teacher entered the chattering 
 was hushed, Raquel laid by her knitting, while 
 
 H3
 
 144 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 the babies sucked their thumbs and kicked little 
 bare legs in the air unconcernedly. The little organ 
 had been brought from the schoolhouse and soon 
 the music of the women's voices, led by Mary and 
 the organ, floated out upon the crisp afternoon air, 
 and here and there along the street a man's voice 
 hummed the familiar words. Jose" sat in the de- 
 serted court-yard of his father's house, busy in 
 fashioning a huge wooden bolt for the bulging 
 doors of the barn, now full to overflowing with 
 the winter supplies of corn and beans, and he 
 smiled as he caught himself whistling in time 
 with the singing voices the opening hymn, a 
 translation of "Rock of Ages." After a prayer 
 and another hymn or two, Mary was silent for an 
 instant, and that instant carried an earnest prayer 
 to the Father for help and wisdom in talking with 
 these women whose hearts were opening to instruc- 
 tion. 
 
 " Dear friends," she began, while every eye was 
 fixed upon her face, "we are going to talk to- 
 gether a little while this afternoon about a very 
 familiar subject, about something that is very 
 pleasant to think of, and about which you all 
 know something. For I do not believe that there 
 is one here, not a grown woman, nor a girl, nof 
 even a little baby who has not a. friend, one friend 
 at least We will talk a little about friends and 
 friendship. Dona Berta," she said, addressing the 
 woman of the house, who sat at Raquel's side,
 
 FRIENDSHIP'S PROOF. 145 
 
 ' ' tell us, please, what a friend is, what your idea 
 is of a good, true friend." 
 
 "Why, senorita," replied the woman, flushing a 
 little, as the eyes of all turned upon her and some 
 lips smiled, "a friend is some one whom we 
 love. " 
 
 "And who loves us," added Raquel, gravely. 
 
 " Yes," said Mary, with a smile, " that is right, 
 for there must be love of some kind where there 
 is friendship." 
 
 "A friend is one who does us a favor," inter- 
 rupted a young girl, on the other side of the room. 
 
 4 ' What do the rest of you think of that ? Is 
 one always a friend who does us a good turn ? ' ' 
 asked Mary. 
 
 "No," replied Berta, "for we pay for many 
 favors, and even an enemy will do one a favor for 
 a price." 
 
 " I know what you meant, Sara," Miss Summers 
 replied, smiling at the girl, who was looking rather 
 mortified. ' ' And your idea was good. You meant 
 that a friend is one who seeks our good, who is 
 kind to us ; one who is not willing to let slip an 
 opportunity for helping us when we need help. ' ' 
 
 " Yes," returned Sara, " that is what I meant ; 
 only I did not say just what I wished to say." 
 
 "Now," continued Mary, after everybody had 
 been given an opportunity to say something about 
 friendship, and most had responded, " if I have 
 a friend, and I know that she has any particular 
 
 K
 
 146 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 wish about anything that I may say or do, what 
 do I do for this friend? Just what she wishes? " 
 
 " If that should be right," interrupted Refugio, 
 earnestly. 
 
 " Yes ; and we will suppose that my friend is 
 wise and good, and only wishes the right thing. 
 Now, suppose that what seems to my friend good 
 for me does not seem so to me ; perhaps it may 
 seem quite the contrary." 
 
 " If you love her you will do it all the same," 
 said Raquel, with a thoughtful look in her eyes, 
 which had not left Mary's face. 
 
 "You must trust her, and then it will seem 
 right to you if you love her, as Dona Raquel 
 says," added old Berta. 
 
 " Then, suppose my friend, whom I must trust 
 as you say, and whom I certainly love, if she is 
 my friend suppose this dear friend should require 
 of me some very hard thing to do ; something 
 which seems impossible, which seems even dan- 
 gerous and like death to me, what must I do? " 
 
 " Do the thing," said a firm voice ; and Mary was 
 not surprised to hear Raquel answer thus. 
 
 " I think it would be a fine thing to prove one's 
 friendship by doing some very hard thing, do you 
 not, senorita?" asked Sara, with glowing cheeks. 
 ' Yes, I do, Sara ; and we cannot give a 
 stronger proof of friendship to a friend than by 
 doing some difficult thing which that friend may 
 require of us. What do you think would be the
 
 FRIENDSHIP'S PROOF. 147 
 
 greatest test of friendship between two friends, 
 Petra ? " she questioned. 
 
 The young woman looked down upon the little 
 ones rolling upon the floor, then out through the 
 doorway toward the mountains, where the purple 
 mists of evening were already beginning to gather. 
 
 ' ' The hardest thing would be to die, it seems to 
 me," she replied, at length. It cost the reticent 
 woman a struggle to utter even this short sentence 
 in public, and she almost choked over the last 
 words. 
 
 ' ' Do you know, my friends, what the wisest 
 book in the world says about this? Why, just 
 what our Petra has said. Listen, while I read : 
 ' Greater love hath no man than this, that a man 
 lay down his life for his friends.' That is very 
 plain, is it not ? The greatest proof of love is that 
 one is willing to give his life, and not only is will- 
 ing, but really does give his life for a friend. Has 
 such a thing ever happened? Yes, it has hap- 
 pened many, many times, for even human love is 
 sometimes strong enough for that. You would die 
 for your baby, Dona I/uisa, I am sure," to a 
 woman who sat nursing a chubby boy, " if it were 
 necessary." 
 
 "And I for Juanito," said Martina, as if forget- 
 ting herself in these sweet, new thoughts. 
 
 ' ' What would you think of a king's son who 
 should leave all the comforts and delights of his 
 father's palace," continued their teacher, "and
 
 148 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 should go to live among his father's poor, ignorant 
 subjects just because he felt sorry for their poverty 
 and ignorance and wished to teach them to be 
 wiser and better and healthier and happier? 
 Would that be friendship? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " replied several. 
 
 " And suppose that, although he should be loved 
 and obeyed by a few of the people, most would 
 hate and persecute him so much as even to 
 threaten to kill him, and he should still stay 
 among them, returning good for their evil, and 
 helping them in every way he could, would that 
 be friendship ? 
 
 "And then," and Mary's voice grew very 
 solemn, "if those who hated him should finally 
 kill him in their hatred and wickedness, what 
 would you think of such love?" 
 
 " She is speaking of the Lord Jesus," whispered 
 Sara to her companion, a younger girl. 
 
 "A king's son would not do such a thing," 
 said the young mother Luisa. 
 
 "A King's Son has done it," Mary replied. 
 " Our Saviour, the Son of God, has given us just 
 such proofs of his love for us, who without a 
 knowledge of him are weak and ignorant and 
 sinful. And now, as it is growing late, we cannot 
 talk much more about this, but I want to tell you 
 a message that he left for all of his friends here 
 on earth. This is it : * Ye are my friends if ye do 
 whatsoever I command you.' Do you wish to be
 
 FRIENDSHIP'S PROOF. 149 
 
 the Saviour's friends ? Obey him ; do what he 
 tells you to do. Are you his friends? Then 
 prove it by obedience, even though obedience 
 bring hardship, suffering, or even death / " A 
 thrill passed through the little assemblage at these 
 earnest, simple words, and Raquel's stern, set lips 
 relaxed into a peaceful smile, while tears fell from 
 Petra's eyes upon the tiny face of the baby upon 
 her lap. 
 
 After they had separated, one of the new-comers 
 said to her companion, as they walked quietly 
 homeward : 
 
 ' ' And is that the kind of sermon she preaches ? 
 Why, I thought she would be railing against the 
 padre, and the Holy Virgin, and the saints, and 
 telling us we were, all lost, if we did not go to her 
 cultos. But there, it was very different, and I 
 shall go again next Friday and hear some more. 
 It can do one no harm to hear that kind of talk." 
 
 The house had recovered its usual quiet now, as 
 all of the guests had returned to their homes, 
 Captain Daniel accompanying Angela on a visit 
 to her father's house in La Providencia. Since 
 the cool nights had begun, all of the house doors 
 were closed early in the evening, and the court, 
 instead of being the sociable family sitting* room 
 as usual, was dark and quiet. The moon had not 
 yet appeared after supper when Mary crossed from 
 her room to the sala, and the stars were brightly
 
 150 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 sparkling in the dark, blue sky. Even the dogs 
 had crept into some haven of warmth and shelter 
 from the wintry air, and the ranch was quiet, 
 though it was only eight o'clock. Jose was sit- 
 ting at the table in the center of the room, with 
 books and pencil, when Miss Summers entered, 
 and soon both were struggling with the difficulties 
 of teaching and learning English. It was the first 
 time that week that an English lesson had been 
 possible, with the confused coming and going of 
 the visitors, and Jose" had not been able to study as 
 usual. Petra had not yet come in from the kitchen, 
 and Raquel alone was with her step-son. Don 
 Eduardo was cold and could not be induced to 
 leave the little charcoal fire in the kitchen until 
 the time when the Senorita Maria and Jose" should 
 be at leisure to talk over the affair broached that 
 morning. Raquel sat silently knitting, while Jose" 
 labored over his grammar exercise. He laid down 
 his pencil with a sigh of relief as his teacher 
 took a seat at his side and received the book from 
 his hand. 
 
 " It seems more difficult than usual, to-night, 
 senorita. And what I have written is not worth 
 looking at." 
 
 "Well, there is not much of it, I see," she 
 replied, "and we shall soon get through with 
 it Ah, see here, this is naturally very difficult 
 for you, but in English we do not make the ad- 
 jective agree in number with the noun, as in
 
 FRIENDSHIP'S PROOF. 151 
 
 Spanish. We do not say, as you have written it : 
 1 Goods children obey their parents.' No, the 
 adjective is unchangeable and I will strike off the s. 
 I am glad you remembered the position of the 
 adjective." And thus they went through the 
 half-dozen sentences prepared. 
 
 "Now instead of more grammar, we will talk 
 for a little in English, as you like to do, and 
 which will be good practice. You know many 
 words and already read surprisingly well, but you 
 cannot yet pronounce. Now, not a word of Span- 
 ish. About what shall we talk ? " 
 
 " I have so much shame, Miss Mary," replied 
 the young man, blushing to the roots of his hair ; 
 "because I cannot speak your language well. But 
 I have many desires to learn it." 
 
 " And you will very soon learn it, I am sure, if 
 you are not ashamed to speak it. Now, why do 
 you wish to learn English ? " 
 
 ' ' Because I have the hope of going to the 
 the Estados Unidos how is it said ? I forget 
 myself." 
 
 ' ' The United States, you mean, and you did 
 not forget yourself, Jose", it was the words that you 
 forgot. What will you do when you go to the 
 United States, I wonder." 
 
 "'Wonder'? What is that? I do not under- 
 stand." 
 
 "Ah, yes. Well, never mind about 'wonder.' 
 Why do you wish to leave Mexico?"
 
 152 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 "I have heard of the fines schools and colleges 
 there, and that a young man has manys opportuni- 
 ties to be great and famous in those States." 
 
 " Jose*, Jose ! Fines and manys ! 
 
 "Oh, I forgot my , no, I forgot, Miss Maty. 
 
 I should have said fine and many. It is very, 
 very difficult, your language. I wish to be great. 
 I wish to learn all that a young man may learn, 
 but not in Mexico, not in the city, to be only a 
 fine nobody, like my nephew Daniel, no ! " 
 
 " But Jose", you need not be like Daniel. Surely 
 you know better than that. And I believe that 
 
 you will . Why, Dona Raquel, what is the 
 
 matter?" she added, as she saw the woman sitting 
 upright in her chair, letting her knitting fall into 
 her lap, and staring with wide-opened eyes at 
 Jose". 
 
 " The English," cried Jos6, laughing heartily ; 
 " is it not mamd mta ? ' ' 
 
 " What is that you two are saying ? Is it talk ? 
 It is to me like the language of the animals to one 
 another. Can it be true that you are saying any- 
 thing, that there is any sense in what you say ! " 
 
 " You have not heard it before, Raquel ? " 
 asked Mary. " Why,Jos and I have often sjy'-.en 
 thus in our lessons." 
 
 " And I sat dozing in my chair ! I cannot 
 understand how such jargon can be talk, real 
 human talk. And do you like it, senorita, with 
 those tongue-twisting sounds ? "
 
 FRIENDSHIP'S PROOF. 153 
 
 " Why, mamma, it is her own language, just as 
 Spanish is ours." 
 
 " But she speaks Spanish also, and as well as 
 we do. How can one person speak two tongues ? 
 Of course I knew she had her own language, but 
 I never thought it could be like that. Listen, 
 father," she cried, as Eduardo entered, followed 
 by Petra with the sleeping Benjamin in her arms, 
 " our Jose* can talk the senorita's talk. It does not 
 seem to mean anything, but they understand each 
 other. I never should have guessed that Jose" was 
 so clever." 
 
 All laughed at this, and then the old man sat 
 down by his wife's side and silence fell over the 
 little company. Jose* scribbled meaningless figures 
 on a scrap of paper, and looked impenetrable. 
 All the lightness and youth had left his face which 
 grew graver and graver. 
 
 " Stop knitting now, Raquel," demanded Edu- 
 ardo, in a business-like tone, for a little nap over 
 the brazier in the kitchen had refreshed him, and 
 his wits were evidently in the right place. When 
 once aroused from the torpor and listlessness of 
 old age, which was slowly creeping over his facul- 
 ties^ he. was still a shrewd man. 
 
 " Yes," assented Raquel, laying aside her work ; 
 " I shall knit no more to-night. Jose and Petra, 
 listen. You both know of my vow concerning 
 the chapel, and that I have talked with you to-day 
 about carrying on the work. Now I ask you no
 
 154 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 longer to help me, for I have decided the matter 
 for myself. I shall not finish the chapel." 
 
 Again there was silence in the room. Presently, 
 to the surprise of all, Eduardo rose to his feet and 
 spoke again, firmly and cheerfully. 
 
 " Raquel, thou hast decided rightly. I said 
 nothing to thee, for on the day when I joined the 
 Baptists I promised thee that I would let thee go 
 thy own way. The money was thine and thy 
 will was thine. But I knew that some day thou 
 wouldst know the truth, and better by my pray- 
 ing to God for thee than by hauling and pull- 
 ing thee along after me. And now that thou hast 
 given thy word to have no more to do with the 
 building of the chapel, wilt thou go no farther? 
 Wife, art thou going to stand still with thy feet in 
 one road and thy heart in another? " 
 
 "No, Eduardo, esposo mz6," l answered the 
 woman, and she arose and stood by him. " I wish 
 to serve God in the true way. If I have erred and 
 worshiped those who should not have had his 
 place in my heart, I am sorry with all my heart, 
 and I shall give all that up and learn the senorita's 
 way." 
 
 "And that way, dear Raquel, is only the way 
 that our Saviour has taught us," said Mary, with 
 emotion in her voice. 
 
 11 You made me feel this afternoon, when you 
 talked to us about Christ's friendship and love for 
 
 1 My husband.
 
 FRIENDSHIP'S PROOF. 155 
 
 us, as if I should be the vilest wretch in the world, 
 if I did not love and honor him above all others. 
 I decided then," she ended, happily. 
 
 " And Petra," said Mary, on an impulse, turning 
 and laying her hand lovingly on the arm of the 
 young woman at her side ; " you will be with us 
 too, will you not ? You know that we are trying 
 to follow our Master simply and truly, and that 
 we have the truth about all this from the Bible. 
 Will you not believe that he alone is your Saviour 
 and able to satisfy your soul ? ' ' 
 
 U I believe that already, Mariquita," replied 
 Petra, quietly ; "I have only been waiting for 
 mother to speak." 
 
 " Oh, what happiness ! " exclaimed Mary, with 
 shining eyes. " And Jose, can you not also ? " 
 
 But he interrupted her, raising his hand as if to 
 ward off a blow. 
 
 " Do not ask me anything, senorita ; I cannot 
 deceive you, and yet I cannot say what you 
 wish me to say ; not yet," he added. And then 
 he hurried from the room. - 
 
 " The chapel might be turned into one for our- 
 selves," began Eduardo ; "we need a larger " 
 
 " No, no, Don Eduardo," interrupted Mary ; u I 
 do not think it will do to speak of that just yet. 
 We must wait until Mr. Richards comes again 
 before engaging in anything of such importance 
 as that would be. I think that we should only 
 be raising needless opposition by continuing the
 
 156 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 work for our own use. At any rate it will not be 
 long now before he conies, and he will tell us 
 what we should do." 
 
 "Mariquita is right, I think, father," said 
 Petra ; "for while you manage the ranch, you 
 do not, as you said of mother, govern the will 
 of the people. It will take careful management 
 and much wisdom to make them understand." 
 
 "Well, let it be then," replied the old man. 
 "Perhaps you are right. Jose will simply tell 
 the men that you have decided not to finish the 
 chapel at all ; it is only honest for that, at least, 
 to be well understood. And then we shall see." 
 
 The young teacher was not sure that she was sat- 
 isfied with this way of managing what she was con- 
 vinced would prove a delicate affair, but it was 
 really the best that could be done, and Mr. Rich- 
 ards had written that he would be with her in a 
 few weeks. It was now only the first of Decem- 
 ber, and the Roman Catholic priest would not 
 arrive before Christmas. She. stopped a moment 
 by the well in the center of the court as she went 
 to her room a few moments later, and filled her 
 lungs with the pure, cold mountain air as it swept 
 down from the peaks shadowing the village. The 
 moon was rising, round and red, over the mount- 
 ain side, and already the stars were paling before 
 her greater light. As she moved on toward her 
 door, she almost stumbled over a figure which sat 
 on the low curbing of the well. It was Jose, and
 
 FRIENDSHIP'S PROOF. 157 
 
 as he rose, lie looked more dejected than Mary 
 had ever seen him. 
 
 " Senorita Maria," he said, as she started vio- 
 lently at his unexpected appearance. "I only 
 wanted to say to you what I could not say in 
 there before the others, so I waited outside here 
 for you. " 
 
 " What is it, Jose ? " asked Mary, wearily. It 
 seemed as if she could scarcely bear anything 
 more just then. The day had been full of expe- 
 riences such as she had not known before in 
 Mexico, and she was physically exhausted. 
 
 " I shall not detain you. It is only that I 
 wished to explain that when you asked me in 
 there if I also would not join you, I wanted to 
 say yes ; but, senorita, it is different with us men, 
 with me, from what it is with our women. They 
 are born religious, I believe ; at any rate they are 
 accustomed to think about the church, and the 
 mass, and the saints and all that, all their lives, 
 and for them the change is not so difficult ; when 
 once they are convinced that they have been 
 wrong, they have only to choose another way of 
 being religious. Now I never have had any 
 thoughts about religion and never have cared any- 
 thing about it, either way. I was willing for my 
 father to be a Protestant, and for my mother to be 
 a Romanist " 
 
 " But Jose, your mother says that you are a 
 good Catholic ! "
 
 158 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 " That was only because I never make tun of 
 the priest, as so many men do, and because I have 
 never forgotten the prayers and the catechism 
 taught me when I was a child. It is not hard to be 
 
 o 
 
 a 'good Catholic,'" and he laughed somewhat 
 bitterly. " But now / have changed," he con- 
 tinued. " I hardly know when it began, but I do 
 think I begin to see the wrong, the real error of 
 our country's religion in this one thing : / do not 
 find that it influences the people to lead good lives. 
 They are taught to be charitable. Why? To 
 get their own souls after death, or those of their 
 friends, out of purgatory. It teaches them to lie 
 and to deceive. And in the large cities, Daniel 
 says it has grown to be a mere question of money 
 between the church and the people. Now you, 
 senorita," and his voice lost the hard tone and his 
 face brightened, " have been showing me some- 
 thing different. You have taught me how men 
 ought to live, so as to carry out the will of God. 
 You have not said much to me, but enough to 
 make me thiuk. And I have thought enough to 
 make me know that you are right and enough to 
 make me desire to be like you, and to try and 
 lead the kind of life a good man ought to lead. 
 You see, senorita, I wish to understand it all, 
 but I cannot be sure that I do. Do you under- 
 stand?" 
 
 "I do, Jose", and I sympathize with you, my 
 friend. God is leading you, and you will find the
 
 FRIENDSHIP'S PROOF. 159 
 
 truth, I am sure. Now, good-night, for it is 
 growing late." 
 
 Jose then returned to his family, and agreed 
 with Petra that Miss Summers' plan was right and 
 best for all. 
 
 ' ' There will be enough said about giving up 
 the chapel," he said; "and we will be quiet and 
 give the people no more than necessary to discuss 
 at once. Mr. Richards will be able to arrange it 
 with less dissatisfaction than we. We will make 
 no secret of our change of purpose, and will answer 
 any question that they may put to us. You have 
 abandoned the work, mamma, because you do 
 not wish to pay your vow to the Virgin, as you 
 have given up her worship. You are prepared, I 
 hope, for what is to follow, for our friends will of 
 course demand the reason why." 
 
 " Yes, Jose ; and it seems to me a very simple 
 thing to say, ' I am going to join the senorita's 
 religion and pray to God and Christ alone, there- 
 fore I cannot build a chapel for the service of 
 Mary.' I think they will understand." 
 
 "There is no doubt about that, mamd mia" 
 added Petra, ' ' and I believe that there are many 
 who will agree with us. What Mariquita has told 
 us ever since she came to us seems to me so simple 
 and true that I wonder how any one can find fault 
 with it." 
 
 "They do find fault however, Petra," remarked 
 Jose, after the parents had left the room and the
 
 l6o A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 brother and sister were alone, "and there will be- 
 more trouble than you imagine. Most of the 
 women will be furious, for you know yourself 
 the influence of Padre Esteban over them. Per- 
 haps," he added, sarcastically, "his influence 
 would not be so great if he were not young and 
 handsome ! " 
 
 " But the men, Jose", they are not fanatical. 
 They scarcely ever go to mass, and many do not 
 confess any longer that is, the younger men like 
 you. And look at brother Daniel. He has no 
 use for Padre Esteban." 
 
 " Look at his wife, Petra ; there is not a better 
 Romanist in the ranch than Rosa, and she rules 
 her husband and hates the Seiiorita Maria." 
 
 ' ' Mariquita has spoken to me to-day about 
 old Juana. She thinks, Jose, that she should be 
 watched, and it really seems strange what a vio- 
 lent way she has had several times lately with the 
 seiiorita. Has Maria told you how she behaved 
 yesterday while we were away at the picnic and 
 Maria was alone with her, and of her strange be- 
 havior and words to-day? " 
 
 " No ; what has that old hag to do with the 
 senorita?" 
 
 Petra told him of the crazy words of the woman, 
 which had half amused, half startled Mary, and 
 Jose" remained thoughtful for a moment. 
 
 " I shall see to it," he replied at length. " Per- 
 haps Rosa has had something to do with all that
 
 FRIENDSHIP'S PROOF. 161 
 
 They are great cronies, I know, and are often 
 gossiping together." 
 
 "Nothing can hurt us, of course," remarked 
 Petra, as she closed the shutters and blew out the 
 candles ; "but I do not wish the senorita frightened 
 away. Mr. Richards will not consent to her stay- 
 ing longer, if things grow unpleasant." * 
 
 "I think we can take care of the senorita, 
 Petra," said Jose, as he returned his sister's good- 
 night.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE LITTLE LAMB GOES HOME. 
 
 I am glad to think 
 
 I am not bound to make the wrong go right, 
 But only to discover and to do 
 With cheerful heart the work that God appoints ; 
 
 I will trust in him 
 
 That he can hold his own ; and I will take 
 His will, above the work he sendeth me, 
 To be my chiefest good. 
 
 Jean Ingelow. 
 
 A NOTHER December morning broke clear and 
 HL cold, and Mary awaked, wondering- what was 
 the uncomfortable weight upon her spirits, and 
 what could cause the strange sinking of her heart. 
 Surely something had happened not at all in 
 keeping with the pure, bright sunniness of the 
 outside world, something remaining from the black 
 shadows of the night ! After dressing, she stood at 
 her window, looking listlessly out upon the empty 
 street, awaiting Refugio's summons to breakfast. 
 Before going to sleep she had been reading some 
 chapters from Auerbach's "On the Heights," and 
 her feeling of discouragement now found an echo 
 in the memory of some of the last words read ; they 
 had lingered in her mind, and though she blamed 
 
 herself for her depression, and sought to find in- 
 162
 
 THE LITTLE LAMB GOES HOME. 163 
 
 spiration in the joy that had been hers, yesterday, 
 at the news of Raquel's and Petra's conversion to 
 the Protestant faith, she seemed to herself such a 
 small and helpless being, the great questions 
 dividing the human race seemed so insoluble and 
 hopeless and unnecessary, that her memory inevi- 
 tably recurred to these disturbing words from the 
 book : ' ' What do we really do in the world ? The 
 trees would grow without us ; the animals, in the 
 field and in the air and in the water, would live 
 without us. Everything has of itself something 
 to do in the world ; man alone must make him- 
 self something to do. And so we paint and build 
 and plough and study and practise for mutual man- 
 slaughter, and the only difference between man 
 and beast is that men bury their dead." 
 
 Fully realizing the heterodoxy of this sentiment 
 and its unworthiness as an influence upon the 
 faith of a child of God, it still haunted her 
 thoughts and shadowed her face. The truth was, 
 that the reaction after an exciting, too full yester- 
 day, followed by a restless night of planning, was 
 telling upon her strong nerves, and she sat down 
 to her breakfast with an aching head and little 
 appetite. Refugio's first words did not take from 
 her general feeling of uneasiness. 
 
 " Have you been vaccinated, senorita ? " 
 
 ' ' Yes, indeed ; many times since I have been 
 in Mexico. Why do you ask me that, Refugio? " 
 
 " Because they were saying out there in the
 
 164 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 court that you were sure to have been vaccinated. 
 I do not know what it means at all ; but they 
 said that if you had been you could not have the 
 small-pox. ' ' 
 
 "No, there is no danger that I shall have 
 it now, even if I should be exposed to it. And I 
 have already seen many cases of it while I was 
 
 in S last year. But why are they talking of 
 
 this now?" 
 
 " Only that Juanito Vera is sick, and they think 
 it may be small-pox." 
 
 " Why should it be small-pox ? " inquired Mary, 
 hastily; " there is none here, and it is only be- 
 ginning in S , where they have it every year. 
 
 And no one has come from there with it. ' ' 
 
 " They think that Martina's sister's baby, in 
 La Bienvenida, died with it. Do you not remem- 
 ber that Juanito went with his mother to the 
 burial, about ten days ago ? He had to be absent 
 from school that afternoon, and his mother said 
 that he cried all the way to the town, because he 
 did not want to go." 
 
 " Ten days ago," murmured Mary, thoughtfully, 
 " then it is just time now," she said aloud, a little 
 vaguely. 
 
 "Dona Martina found him in a convulsion 
 when she got home from the meeting yesterday 
 afternoon. She had left him playing with the 
 boys in the road, and did not think he was sick 
 much, as he often has a pain in his head. He was
 
 THE LITTLE LAMB GOES HOME. 165 
 
 on the floor in a fit when she got home, and his 
 papa was sitting by, too drunk to call any one. 
 She was going to send for you, but some say that 
 old Juana came by just then and said that he 
 would surely die if you were called, and that it 
 was a judgment on his mother for having left him 
 to go to the mothers' meeting. Senorita, do not 
 look so ! Of course, that was all a lie. Every- 
 body thinks now that it is the small-pox, and that 
 he took it from the baby. Console yourself, dear 
 senorita, and try to eat. See, the eggs are so fresh 
 and good, and the bread is fresh too, for the cart 
 came this morning from the oven and has brought 
 such beautiful loaves and twists. ' ' 
 
 "No, no, Refugio," she returned, "I cannot 
 eat now. Go on and tell me all that you know. 
 Who is taking care of poor little Juan ? " 
 
 " Old Juana, and she knows all about it, they 
 say. She has not left the house at all, and 
 senorita, you will not go there, will you ? " pleaded 
 Refugio, looking anxiously into her friend's pale 
 face. 
 
 "Of course I shall go to see Juan, Refugio," 
 she replied ; "he will want me and I am sure I 
 
 can make him more comfortable than that " 
 
 she interrupted herself, and then sprang hastily to 
 her feet. 
 
 " You have never been vaccinated, Cuca. How 
 fortunate it is that I wrote for fresh points last 
 week. And to think how disappointed I was
 
 1 66 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 yesterday that the mail brought no letters, only the 
 package of vaccine. Come, roll up your sleeve ; I 
 will begin with you, and then you must go to the 
 mothers of all the school children, and say that I 
 wish to vaccinate to-day all who have not had the 
 disease. Quick, we shall have a busy day." 
 
 All depression was gone now, for there was 
 something to do after all, besides " bury the dead." 
 She calmly and quickly went about her prepara- 
 tions with the light of energy in her face. 
 
 She opened the medicine closet. Carefully ar- 
 ranged on the shelves were bottles of antiseptic 
 preparations ready for solution, jars of antiseptic 
 gauze and of vaseline, rolls and rolls of bandages 
 of different widths and materials, and sponges. 
 Small drawers contained syringes and simple sur- 
 gical instruments, and larger ones bundles of old 
 linen cloths, worn sheets, and underclothing. In 
 the inner cupboard were ranged medicines in bot- 
 tles and boxes, and all was in perfect order. 
 
 "You will eat now, senorita," said Refugio, 
 when the vaccination was over, and the girl was 
 smiling again. "It is early yet, and you have 
 tasted nothing." 
 
 "Yes, I shall eat now," replied Mary, sitting 
 down again at the table; "and Refugio," she 
 called after the girl, who was starting on her 
 errand, "ask Petra to come to me for a few 
 moments. I wish to speak with her. " 
 
 From her conversation with Petra, who came
 
 THE LITTLE LAMB GOES HOME. 167 
 
 as soon as she received the summons, she learned 
 that it was not yet certain, but most probable, 
 that Juan had small-pox. His fever was very 
 high, and he was delirious, though as yet there 
 was no eruption. Petra did not tell Mary that 
 the child called continually for her, and had to be 
 watched constantly to prevent him from rushing 
 out of the room to run to the schoolhouse. She 
 hoped that Mary would not hear of this, and that 
 she might be kept altogether from the house. So 
 she told her of Juana's presence with the sick boy, 
 and of the mother's frantic despair, and wild de- 
 nunciations of herself for having attended the 
 meeting of the day before. She had lost three 
 sons of the same disease during the epidemic of 
 the year before. 
 
 ' ' But that was before we were all vaccinated, ' ' 
 continued Petra, ' ' so all of the children except 
 Juan took the disease. Juan was with Angela in 
 La Providencia, when the plague arrived, and 
 they vaccinated him there, and did not send him 
 home till late in the spring. But the vaccine did 
 not take, I have heard Martina say, and only yes- 
 terday she was saying that she wished to have it 
 done again." 
 
 " Poor child," sighed Mary, grieved at the fate 
 of her little favorite. " I shall go and see what I 
 can do for him. What do they do here for such 
 an awful sickness, Petra ? ' ' 
 
 " Nothing much, but keep out the air and light.
 
 1 68 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 The little ones generally die with the throat and 
 nose full of the sores. I saw one child last year 
 lying on a mat without a rag over it, and the ter- 
 rible sores covered it so that one could see nothing 
 else. I hope never to see such a sight again. 
 It was nearly dead then. ' ' 
 
 " How perfectly inhuman ! " shuddered Mary. 
 " But is nothing done, no bathing, nothing to 
 give a little ease ? " 
 
 " There is very little that can be done, senorita. 
 Most of the people are poor, and we are so far 
 from a doctor. It always seemed to me that it 
 would be a comfort to have the fever in the head 
 cooled by wet cloths, and that some of the dread- 
 ful itching and burning afterward might be 
 helped by bathing, but such a thing has never 
 been heard of here. They are not neglected, the 
 poor sick things ; but there does not seem anything 
 to do but give them what they can manage to eat 
 and drink, and then sit by and watch." 
 
 "It is true that there is no remedy for the dis- 
 ease, but there is much that good nursing and 
 cleanliness can do to lessen the suffering and the 
 serious after effects. Tell me if there are many 
 who will be liable to take this from little Juan. 
 If so, there ought to be something done to prevent 
 a spread of the disease. In this pure, fresh air, 
 there ought not to be an epidemic from only this 
 one case." 
 
 41 1 think that there is not the danger that there
 
 THE LITTLE LAMB GOES HOME. 169 
 
 was last year, senorita," replied Jose, whom Petra 
 called as he was passing the door and to whom 
 the question was repeated. "Almost all the 
 older inhabitants have already had it, or have 
 been vaccinated. Do you remember how well our 
 arms ' took ' last winter, Petra, and how ill Benja- 
 min was with his ? Then I vaccinated all of us 
 over again, to be sure that there was no ' humor ' 
 left, and it did not take again. So we are safe. 
 But you, senorita ? " 
 
 U I am safe, also," she replied, "and as I have 
 nursed small-pox in a New York hospital, I do 
 not fear for myself. Now, what about the chil- 
 dren, and the babies who have come since the 
 sickness last year ? " 
 
 " There are many yet who would have it, if 
 exposed, for the parents of some were afraid when 
 the official was here vaccinating, and they hid 
 their children, or pretended that they had already 
 had the disease. Of course the babies, as you say, 
 are not safe. What shall I do, Petra ? Ride over 
 to La Providencia for vaccine ? They are sure to 
 have it." 
 
 "No, no," said Miss Summers. ''See, I have 
 enough points, fresh, reliable ones, for a regiment. 
 You and I can vaccinate the whole ranch before 
 night. And," she added, after thinking a moment, 
 " I think that I could not spend the day better. 
 What do you say ; cannot some one get on a horse 
 and ride to every house here and in El Porvenir to
 
 1 70 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 save time, and beg all to bring children who have 
 not been vaccinated, to the schoolhouse ? I have 
 already send Cuca to the school children. Surely, 
 last year's warning will give them more sense, and 
 they cannot refuse." 
 
 " You are right, senorita," declared Jose", seizing 
 his hat, l ' I will go myself through San Bernabe 
 and will send to El Porvenir. But first," he added, 
 more slowly, " you must vaccinate yourself again. 
 I shall not go until that is done." And Petra 
 added a like plea. 
 
 To humor them and to hasten their plans, she 
 laughingly assented and rolled back her loose 
 sleeve upon the fair white roundness of her arm. 
 
 In a moment it was done, and they separated, 
 each intent upon the duties which the day was 
 unfolding ready to their hands. 
 
 There was little for the young teacher to do, 
 until some response should be made to the sum- 
 mons to the schoolhouse ; so she arranged her 
 bag, with the necessary articles for the work be- 
 fore her, and started to the schoolhouse, meaning 
 to stop and see Juan, on the way. 
 
 Groups of men and women stood idly about in 
 the open space which did duty as garden of the 
 ranch, and many turned with unfriendly looks 
 toward her, as she left the gate. Those who 
 had been engaged on the chapel building before, 
 had expected to be hired again, and now that the 
 outside work in the fields was done, the time had
 
 THE UTTLE LAMB GOES HOME. 1 71 
 
 come for resuming work. Great had been their 
 dismay when Jose had announced to them that 
 morning, just before he had been with Miss Sum- 
 mers, that his mother had decided not to complete 
 the building, and that he would not need their ser- 
 vices. He had spoken pleasantly, but decidedly, 
 and the men, even those of his own family, stood 
 enough in awe of him not to utter the thoughts 
 and suspicions which quickly arose in their minds. 
 When, therefore, they saw the teacher quietly go 
 toward the schoolhouse, as usual, one among 
 them said : 
 
 ' ' And the Sen orita Maria is to be allowed to go 
 on unhindered in her miserable, proselyting ways. 
 I wager that this is her work. ' ' 
 
 " You may be sure of it," added a woman. 
 " And who is she, to teach that we must not pray 
 to the holy mother of God, because, as she says, 
 she was only a woman and mother like the rest 
 of us, while she lets herself be made an idol of by 
 the Vera family ? " 
 
 " Leave me out, if you please," called the deep 
 voice of Dona Rosa Vera, Captain Daniel's mother. 
 "I have always known that she was a smooth- 
 faced little viper, who has crawled into the nest 
 of papa-in-law Kduardo. I thought better of my 
 mother-in-law, who has always been so good a 
 Catholic, and was so free with her vows last year 
 to the padre." 
 
 " Perhaps it is only the small-pox," suggested a
 
 172 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 pretty little woman, one of those who had attended 
 the meeting the day before with her fat baby boy. 
 She liked the senorita, and did not wish her to be 
 blamed for such a dire offense. 
 
 "All the more reason why we should work for the 
 Virgin," snapped a vicious-looking old dame, who 
 crouched over a few live coals which she held in 
 an earthen pan in her lap. " Did not the plague 
 cease last year so soon as the men got to work 
 again upon the church ? You are one of the 
 Protestants thyself, Luisa, and you had better 
 look out for thy little one, or the breath of the 
 evil one will be upon him." 
 
 " That I shall, Catarina mia" declared Luisa, 
 stoutly hugging her baby, and covering his shiny 
 brown face with kisses. " I heard the senorita's 
 Refugio telling Sara's mother that there would be 
 vaccination to-day at the choolhouse, and I shall 
 carry my Pablito. There, there," she cried, hush- 
 ing her child, who nestled hungrily against her 
 bosom ; " the senorita's white hands will not hurt 
 my boy, but she will save him from the dreadful 
 small-pox. Come, let us go, little one ! " and she 
 actually started, following Mary at a little dis- 
 tance, notwithstanding the gibes thrown after her 
 by the crowd, led by old Catarina. 
 
 " Bold-faced hussy ! " sneered Dona Rosa ; " it 
 is like her bad blood to be throwing her impu- 
 dence into our very faces. When her Pablo is old 
 enough to speak, ask him what sort of man his
 
 THE LITTLE LAMB GOES HOME. 173 
 
 father is, and where lie has kept himself all this 
 while, and then " 
 
 "Rosita, Rosita ! " whispered old Catarina, 
 " hush, here is Jose ; he will hear you, and you 
 know he does not like such talk." 
 
 When Luisa with her baby was but a few yards 
 behind Mary, she stopped and sat down upon a 
 stone by the roadside, for she saw Mary pause in 
 front of Martina's cottage and stand for a moment 
 outside the door. "I will wait for her here," 
 she mused ; "I do not suppose she will go in- 
 side." 
 
 Mary did mean to go inside, but she was pre- 
 vented by the father of the sick boy. He was sober 
 now, and his face was white with anger and distress, 
 and he stood in the doorway and cried in a loud 
 voice, loud enough to be heard by Luisa, while 
 Juana's evil face peered from behind the window- 
 shutter. 
 
 ' ' Do not come near my child ! You first be- 
 witched him with your songs and music, and now 
 you have brought this sickness upon him. You 
 shall never see him again. Go ! ' ' 
 
 There is no telling what more he might have said 
 if Jose* had not appeared by Miss Summers' side, as if 
 by magic. He caught her by the hand and led 
 her a little farther on to the schoolhouse door, 
 which she entered, speechless. He left her there 
 without a word and hurried back to his cousin, 
 who still stood threatening in his doorway. Luisa
 
 174 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 did hot wait to hear what Jose" told the fellow, for 
 she hurried on to Mary, but she was sure that she 
 saw sparks flashing from Jose's eyes as she passed, 
 and his lips were white and trembling. 
 
 It was good for Mary that she had work to do 
 immediately, with little time to think. All that 
 day at intervals, and for several succeeding days, 
 children were brought from El Porvenir and many 
 outlying houses, as well as from the ranch itself, 
 and before long most of the exposed had been 
 vaccinated. Jose* helped her the first day toward 
 the last, and though he did not mention the 
 affair of his cousin, there was a grimly satisfied 
 look on his face that told Mary that she would 
 not be troubled again. 
 
 As they were leaving the house just at dusk, 
 and she stopped to lock the door, Jose" said : 
 
 " You must not go to Martina's again, senorita. 
 They are all against you there and they will not 
 let you see Juan. The poor child knows no one 
 now and you could do him no good. Will you 
 promise me not to go ? " 
 
 Mary would only promise that she would not 
 enter the house unless she should be allowed to do 
 something for the child, and she made Jose* prom- 
 ise in his turn that he would try to induce them 
 to let her at least send soft cloths and soothing 
 washes for the poor little fellow. 
 
 When she laid her head on her pillow early 
 that evening there was neither strength nor incli-
 
 THE LITTLE LAMB GOES HOME. 175 
 
 nation for any thought at all, and she lay in 
 dreamless slumber through the long night. 
 
 There was no epidemic of small-pox in the 
 ranch, though there were many sick children with 
 swollen, aching arms. 
 
 lyittle Juan sickened and died so suddenly and 
 all was so soon over, that the disease spread no 
 farther than his desolate mother's cottage. Dur- 
 ing the few days of his illness his cry was for the 
 maestro, ; sometimes he called her his "darling 
 senorita," or his "beautiful angel," and even on 
 the last day, when the eruption was deep and 
 burning over his whole body, and he lay choked, 
 and gasping, and half-delirious, his eyes glued fast 
 with the noisome disease, he groped pitifully all 
 about the bed and never lay quiet a moment in 
 his efforts to get away and to her. 
 
 Mary's heart was wrung with grief at the ac- 
 counts of the child's suffering and at her own 
 helplessness. One day as she sat in the school- 
 room, she suddenly gave way and broke down in 
 an uncontrollable fit of sobbing as a little pro- 
 cession passed the door, bearing a small blue 
 coffin ; and all the children knew that Juan was 
 d->ad and that the teacher had loved him as she 
 had loved no other child. But they were not 
 jealous, for they too had loved the gentle little 
 fellow, and they mingled their sobs with hers. 
 
 Samuel, little Lola's cousin from El Porvenir, 
 caught Mary's hand and knelt by her side to
 
 176 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 comfort her. " Do not cry so, seiiorita," lie said. 
 "You could have made him well as you did 
 our Lola, if they had let you. But now he is 
 gone to live with Jesus, has he not? And he will 
 not suffer any more." 
 
 Kissing her little comforter, she calmed herself 
 and went on with the lessons. 
 
 And so little Juan's life ended, and he never 
 grew to be a " great man " ; but who can say that 
 his life was too short or wasted ? 
 
 That night, Captain Daniel galloped home from 
 his uncle's house in L,a Providencia with the 
 startling news that pretty Angela Vera had small- 
 pox, and that the doctors had declared the disease 
 epidemic in that town.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 RAINY DAYS AT THE RANCH. 
 
 I ask thee for a thoughtful love, 
 Through constant watching wise ; 
 
 To meet the glad with joyful smiles 
 And to wipe the weeping eyes ; 
 
 And a heart at leisure from itself, 
 To soothe and sympathize. 
 
 A. L. Waring. 
 
 THE day after Captain Daniel's return to San 
 Bernabe* dawned gray and chill. Before 
 eight o'clock a fine drizzle of rain was falling, and 
 by noon it was pouring in steady torrents. A few 
 children came to school, but at noon intermission 
 their teacher told them not to return through the 
 rain to the afternoon session, as there was no way 
 to heat the room nor to dry their wet clothing. The 
 next morning the steady downpour continued, and 
 it was evident that it would be necessary to close 
 school entirely during these first days of rain. The 
 first winter rains in the north of Mexico often con- 
 tinue for two or three weeks, bringing a succession 
 of dreary, dark days, to be followed at the end of 
 the fortnight perhaps by a long season of bright, 
 cold weather. Later on there may be another 
 season of damp, gloomy days, with more or less 
 
 M 177
 
 178 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 rain. The winter is a peculiarly trying time for 
 the poor, who often wear their entire wardrobe at 
 once, and have no dry clothing at home for a 
 change. 
 
 The road through San Bernabe at this season 
 was converted into a shallow creek during the 
 hardest showers, and the ranch grew solitary 
 enough out of doors. Here and there dripping 
 figures plodded about, completely enveloped in 
 thick red blankets, and with pantaloons rolled up 
 above the knees, for the cattle must be comforta- 
 bly housed and fed. 
 
 Inside the small, uncomfortable huts it was 
 stifling and unhealthful, for when the wind beat 
 the rain against their fronts the flap doors had to 
 be lowered, and therefore little light and air 
 entered the dim, close rooms. The meals had to 
 be cooked inside also, and the smoke from the bad 
 smelling mesquite wood was almost unbearable. 
 
 The days, however, were short, and there was 
 little for the women to do but provide the simple 
 meals for their families, while the babies swung 
 in their shallow boxes beneath the blackened roofs, 
 and the older children tumbled about the floor. 
 The men dozed about the premises, or congregated 
 in the thatched sheds near the great barn, where 
 the cows lowed and the sheep bleated ; and here 
 they often found better accommodations than at 
 home with their wives and children. In the better 
 houses, whose roofs had been repaired, and whose
 
 RAINY DAYS AT THE RANCH. 179 
 
 floors were paved and raised above the level of the 
 ground, the rainy days passed snugly and swiftly, 
 with knitting and mending the men's out-door 
 farming garments, while entire families were 
 sometimes employed in winding, by means of 
 clumsy hand-turned wheels, large and small bob- 
 bins for the loom shuttles in the next town. Great 
 hanks of scarlet and white and blue cotton were 
 deftly thrown around the wheels, and men, women, 
 and girls sat all day chattering or singing, in time 
 with the busy whirr of the machines, and heaping 
 baskets with the smoothly wound bobbins made of 
 sections of a hollow reed. These were afterward 
 sent by basketfuls to the town, where they were 
 woven into rebozos in the immense hand-and-foot- 
 looms still in use in all parts of Mexico. 
 
 In Don Eduardo's house all was in order for the 
 winter. Benjamin built corn-cob houses and pens, 
 seated upon the great brick brazero. Sometimes 
 he was allowed to fan the fresh charcoal with the 
 kitchen fan, and he would laugh with delight at 
 the thousands of sparks from the crackling coal as 
 the draught swept them up the yawning mouth 
 of the great chimney overhead. Petra was the 
 cook for the family, although several women were 
 hired for the rougher work about the kitchen and 
 house ; but no one could make such sweet cakes 
 as she, and her peppery, hot compounds of chopped 
 meat, onions, and cheese, rolled up in tortillas and 
 cooked in a sauce of red peppers and tomatoes,
 
 1 80 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 were famed throughout the ranch. Raquel brooded 
 over her knitting, or assisted at the grinding of 
 the corn for the tortillas, while Eduardo dozed in 
 a corner, after an invariable round every morning 
 among his cattle. Mary laughed heartily the first 
 morning as she watched the old man sally forth 
 from the kitchen and cross the court toward the 
 stables behind the house buildings. She called 
 Refugio to her side, and both enjoyed the comical 
 sight of the patriarch's rainy season costume. He 
 came toward them as he saw them in the doorway, 
 and there was a merry twinkle in his eyes as he 
 greeted Mary, while the rain streamed down upon 
 his blanketed shoulders from the broad-brimmed 
 hat. Besides the umbrella-shaped hat and the 
 blanket, he wore trousers made of heavy carpeting, 
 which one would fancy completely impervious to 
 the rain, and which were gay with red and green 
 squares of color. These were turned up about the 
 ankle, and upon the soles of his sandaled feet 
 pieces of thick board were bound by leather straps, 
 which raised his feet an inch or two above the 
 ground. The bent, but still sturdy figure splashed 
 by Mary's door every morning, and she always 
 made a point of seeing him as he passed after that 
 first day, for she liked to watch the brown, wrin- 
 kled face light into a pleasant smile at the sight 
 of her, while his cheery greeting made her heart 
 lighter and stronger for her day's work. This 
 work now consisted of long-neglected sewing and
 
 RAINY DAYS AT THE RANCH. l8l 
 
 mending, of writing letters, and of teaching Re- 
 fugio. 
 
 The heavy fall of the rain-beat upon the dirt 
 roof overhead and the cosiness of her own dry 
 quarters were very agreeable. Here the hours did 
 not drag for her, and Refugio's contented face 
 continually shone with peaceful happiness. The 
 latter could now read well, and she never wearied of 
 writing and of drawing. Jose had had a plain desk 
 made for her, and it stood in the outer room, where 
 she would sit by the open door for hours, for there 
 was no window, trying to draw anything and every- 
 thing which took her fancy in the court outside 
 or in the room. She was also learning to sew very 
 neatly under her teacher's instruction, and no one, 
 watching the pretty, plump figure and flushed and 
 interested face bending over her work, would 
 have recognized in her the emaciated, half-dying 
 creature who had fallen prostrate in that same 
 doorway some months before. 
 
 Jose spent most of his spare time now in the 
 schoolhouse with his music, and the wind often 
 blew fragments of his chords and scales and even 
 hymns, down the rain-beaten road to the ranch. 
 
 The excitement about the chapel had subsided 
 for a time ; although Jose* and Petra knew bettei 
 than Mary, or even Raquel, that this shut-in time 
 gave ample opportunity for much discussion over 
 the embers at night, and among the bobbin wheels 
 all day.
 
 l82 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 The principal actors in the affair now discussed 
 it no longer ; they were awaiting the arrival of 
 Mr. Richards. Raquel and Petra meanwhile had 
 begun a quiet attendance upon church and Sun- 
 day-school, and there seemed little notice taken. 
 
 Captain Daniel spent his time between his 
 mother's kitchen and the sala in Jose's home. 
 The two young fellows had never been very cor- 
 dial in their relations, as there was little in com- 
 mon between the young uncle and his nephew. 
 Daniel amused himself with his accordion and 
 the dogs, and spent his evenings in teasing Petra, 
 who gave him a kind of indulgent, half-unwilling 
 admiration. She was much older than he, and 
 gave him a great deal of good advice as to the 
 deportment of a young soldier in the capital. 
 
 Six days had passed since his return to San 
 Bernabe", and no news had been heard of poor 
 little Angela, stricken with small-pox in the 
 infected town. 
 
 On the seventh morning after little Juan Vera's 
 burial, Mary sat busily writing at her table in the 
 bedroom. She was much interested in writing 
 to her grandmother an account of her little favor- 
 ite's life, as far as she had known it, and of his last 
 days in school. She was ending with the lament 
 that she had not been allowed to enter the now 
 desolate home, where Martina sat mourning all 
 of her dead boys, and " would not be comforted." 
 She had written this much when, through her
 
 RAINY DAYS AT THE RANCH. 183 
 
 open door, she saw Refugio in earnest conversa- 
 tion with some one at the outer door, and she laid 
 aside her pen, not to take it up again for many 
 long days and nights of anxiety. A messenger 
 had come from La Providencia, telling of Angela's 
 extreme danger, and imploring that the senorita 
 would return with him to the poor girl's bedside. 
 
 Jose had brought the news to Miss Summers, and 
 she soon heard what particulars the servant had 
 been able to give. Angela had been ill for eight 
 days, delirious and almost unmanageable. The 
 disease seemed taking the worst form, and yet in 
 the midst of her delirium she called continuously 
 for the Senorita Maria, just as Juan had done. 
 Her parents begged that she would come to save 
 the life of their child, as the overworked physician 
 had already declared the form of her disease 
 incurable, and had left her to attend to the 
 more hopeful cases in his charge. 
 
 Petra and Raquel joined the group in the ante- 
 room before Jose finished his account, and both 
 exclaimed in horror at the idea of the fearful jour- 
 ney that would be before her, and the danger of 
 the epidemic. 
 
 ' ' The servant says that there is not a house in 
 the whole town without the disease, Mariquita, 
 and you must not go. Besides, the road will be 
 flooded, and the river ! It will impossible to get 
 along, for in some places the river bed is the only 
 road. The servant was drenched and once nearly
 
 1 84 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 drowned, lie says. I asked him," continued Petra, 
 4 'if it would be possible for you to go, and he 
 only shrugged his shoulders and made no reply." 
 
 Mar> r looked at Jose, who remained silent 
 while the women spoke, and stood flicking at his 
 boots with a long switch which he carried in his 
 hand. 
 
 " I must go," declared Mary, who thought she 
 discovered no signs of discouragement in Josh's face, 
 and surely he knew better than these women the 
 dangers and possibilities of such a trip. " How 
 can I refuse, Doiia Raquel, when they have sent 
 so far for me, and Angela needs me so much ? 
 Do not dissuade me, Jose*," she exclaimed, as he 
 opened his mouth to speak. ' ' Only say that it 
 will not be a reckless thing to do. I am well and 
 so strong ! ' ' 
 
 ' ' I was only going to say that our horses can be 
 ready in half an hour," returned Jose", smiling into 
 the eager face, " and we can set out immediately, 
 without waiting for the servant, who says he 
 rode all last night in the dark and ought to 
 rest." 
 
 ; 'You!" exclaimed Mary and Petra together. 
 "Will you go too?" 
 
 " Certainly," he replied, quietly ; "there is no 
 one else to take the senorita. She could not go 
 with the man alone. I know the road perfectly, 
 and besides there is a short cut by which we can 
 avoid the river road. It will be rough and a little
 
 RAINY DAYS AT THE RANCH. 185 
 
 dangerous, but the senorita is brave and will not 
 be afraid." 
 
 " No, indeed ! " Mary declared, enthusiastically; 
 " not with you ! And as you say, there is no one 
 else." 
 
 "Daniel," suggested Raquel. " But there," she 
 continued, " there is no one who knows the way 
 so well as our Jose", and with no one else should 
 Mariquita go. Come, Petra, let us get some food 
 ready. They cannot arrive before dark and must 
 have dinner on the way. ' ' 
 
 "In half an hour, senorita," called Jose, as he 
 stepped out into the rain. " It is already twelve 
 o'clock, and we shall have to ride hard to reach 
 the town before dark." 
 
 Half an hour later Mary stood at the door, clad 
 in a suit of rubber waterproof, cloak, hood, leg- 
 gings, and shoes. Refugio stood at her side with 
 tearful eyes and quivering lips, and held a large 
 package, also done up in rubber cloth. Jose was 
 coming toward them, mounted on his splendid 
 gray, and leading the black mare which Daniel 
 had ridden to the picnic. Petra and Raquel came 
 at the same moment from the kitchen, unheeding 
 the rain in their frequent journeys back and forth 
 across the court, and bearing cups of hot chocolate 
 for the travelers. 
 
 "The dinner and supper too, perhaps," said 
 Petra, " are in Jose's saddle-bags, senorita. You 
 must eat well to keep out the cold. I do not think
 
 186 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 any tiling will get wet, as we have wrapped it all 
 carefully, and the saddle-bags close securely." 
 
 " Here, Antonio," called Jose to the stable-boy, 
 "strap the sefiorita's bundle behind her saddle, 
 and then hold the horses while I put her on Black 
 Jane." He alighted as he spoke, and standing 
 within the door took the cup of chocolate from his 
 mother's hand. 
 
 " Do you think you can ride her, senorita ? " he 
 asked, while Mary was trying to swallow the hot 
 drink and burning her tongue in the effort. " She 
 is much stronger than little Blanquilla, but is 
 easily managed with a firm hand on the bridle. " 
 
 "Yes," replied Mary, a little doubtfully, as she 
 eyed the big mare champing her bit and stamping 
 her feet in the puddles of water. She was pre- 
 vented from saying more by the arrival of Captain 
 Daniel, dainty as usual, as he stepped carefully 
 between the pools of water, carrying an umbrella 
 over his head. 
 
 4 ' It is a sin to take the senorita into that place, 
 Jose," he growled ; " for if she is not drowned on 
 the way she will die of small-pox after she gets 
 there." 
 
 " Either of which fates would be preferable to 
 sitting here waiting for the rain to go by, and 
 knowing that Angela wanted me," asserted Mary, 
 with spirit. "And besides, I am not afraid. Jose 
 says that there is little real danger for one who 
 knows the road."
 
 RAINY DAYS AT THE RANCH. 187 
 
 Jose* did not answer Daniel, and the next 
 moment, uncovering the saddle of Mary's horse, 
 he turned and, lifting her, deposited her gently 
 upon it. The good-byes were hastily said, and 
 the two left the courtyard followed by the tears 
 and good wishes of the three women, while 
 Daniel's soul swelled with a baffled sense of 
 mingled jealousy and hatred. 
 
 " If he brings her home as safe as I brought her 
 out of the storm we may be thankful," he mut- 
 tered, as he also turned out at the gates and 
 watched them along the road. 
 
 Refugio was inconsolable at her loss, and the 
 elder women gave her the good advice to lock up 
 her sefiorita's rooms and to come and stay with 
 them during her absence. 
 
 The day passed with no cessation of the rain, 
 and the mountains were hidden by the low hang- 
 ing clouds. The wind drove the rain in blinding 
 sheets against the house, while here and there, in 
 the snug kitchen and other rooms, drops filtered 
 down through the roofs and made small pools on 
 the floor. 
 
 Part of the afternoon was occupied by Petra 
 and Refugio in securely covering Mary's books 
 and furniture against the dampness, and when 
 finally they lay down to sleep, it was with the 
 ardent hope that Jose and Mary were as safely 
 housed as they, in Don Ignacio Vera's house in I,a 
 Providencia, more than thirty miles away.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE RIDE TO LA PROVIDENCIA. 
 
 Thus, man is made equal to every event. Pie can face danger for 
 the right. A poor, tender, painful body, he can run into flame ot 
 bullets or pestilence with duty for his guide. Emerson, 
 
 FOR many miles the road to L/a Providencia lay 
 across the plain and there was nothing to 
 relieve the monotony of the ride. The two trav- 
 elers, followed at a short distance by Josh's servant, 
 Antonio, galloped along, for the most part silently 
 and yet not uncomfortably. Both were warmly 
 dressed beneath their rubber outer garments, and 
 though it rained steadily there was little wind and 
 the air was fresh and invigorating. The prairie 
 stretched unbroken by the least rise of ground to 
 the foot of the hills bounding the plain on three 
 sides. Here and there clumps of the thorny 
 mesquite, or the rough, unsightly trunk of the 
 Spanish dagger, with its head of thick, spiked 
 leaves, broke the monotonous level. The tufted 
 prairie grass lay weather-beaten and sodden from 
 the rain, and not a prairie dog showed his curious 
 little head above his burrow as the horses galloped 
 by. Only the splashing of the rain and an occa- 
 sional snort from the horses broke the silence of 
 the vast, open space around them. 
 188
 
 THE RIDE TO LA PROVIDENCIA. 189 
 
 Soon after one o'clock the stunted pines fringing 
 the hills in front took more definite shape, and the 
 ground began to rise imperceptibly, until the 
 horses slackened their pace and began to breathe 
 more heavily. Jose then pointed to his com- 
 panion a dark spot which at that distance looked 
 like a large stone resting against a tree, but which 
 was in reality a house, and calling Antonio, he 
 bade him ride quickly on ahead and inform the 
 people of the inn that travelers were coming. 
 
 " We shall soon find a fire and something hot 
 to drink, senorita," he said, "and you may rest 
 for an hour. There are women there who will 
 look after you." 
 
 " And we shall eat Raquel's lunch with good 
 appetites, I fancy," Mary replied, "for I am very 
 hungry." 
 
 Still ascending the road, which was rough and 
 rocky, they came after ten minutes more of riding 
 to the rude, thatched house, and Mary was soon 
 sitting on a stool beside a fire built in the center 
 of the largest room, while the smoking horses 
 were led to shelter and carefully tended by Jose" 
 and the servant. 
 
 Perhaps such a sight had never before dawned 
 upon the three or four Mexican women as met their 
 eyes when they gathered about their guest, help- 
 ing her off with her wet things. And when she 
 sat on the stool warming her feet by the fire, with 
 her damp yellow hair loosened and rippling over
 
 190 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 her shoulders, their delight was boundless. One 
 stood at her side and felt of her dress, exclaiming 
 loudly and describing to the others the softness of 
 the texture of the flannel ; another hung the damp 
 rubber covering's on a line and busied herself in 
 wiping them dry with a cloth ; while a third knelt 
 beside her and begged to be allowed to unbutton 
 her shoes, so that she might warm her feet with 
 more ease. 
 
 "She is like the picture of the virgin in the 
 church at La Providencia," declared one woman. 
 " Her red cheeks and blue eyes and hair of gold 
 are exactly like the blessed mother's. Are you 
 married, sefiorita ? ' ' she asked, looking curiously 
 into Mary's face, glowing from the biting air of 
 the mountains. 
 
 "No," Mary replied ; " I am not married." 
 
 "And where can you be going in this flood 
 of rain? " asked another, "and with young Jose* 
 of San Bernabe'!" 
 
 " We are going to see his cousin in La Provi- 
 dencia, who is very sick and has sent for me. I 
 know something about sickness and medicine, and 
 she is my friend, so I was glad to go, and Jos was 
 the only one who could come with me. The ser- 
 vant who brought me the message from La Prov- 
 idencia lost his way last night and was nearly ex- 
 hausted when he reached San Bernabe', so we left 
 him behind." 
 
 " Well, the Veras know these mountains as well
 
 THE RIDE TO LA PROVIDENCIA. 191 
 
 as the wild things up here, and Jose* particularly ; 
 last year he was always passing here, hunting with 
 his dogs, or going over to see his uncle's family in 
 the town. He has not been over so often lately, 
 as we were saying last night, my husband and I." 
 
 So they chattered on, while one returned to her 
 tortilla making, and another to a pot of soup 
 boiling over the coals, and Mary took a comb 
 from her pocket and combed and braided her 
 heavy hair into one long braid which would resist 
 the wear and tear of hard riding better than the 
 coil with which, in her haste, she had started out. 
 
 A smoking pile of tortillas was ready by the 
 time Jose entered and they began a somewhat 
 hurried lunch, as there seemed signs of an increase 
 in the storm, and Jose was anxious to be off. 
 
 " You had better stay here till to-morrow 
 morning," advised one of those who had drifted 
 in one by one to have a look at the young 
 foreigner with the white skin and "hair of gold." 
 " It will be a wild night, and we are a good four 
 hours' ride now from the town, even in good 
 weather, and it will be dark in the pass before 
 that." 
 
 "No," returned Jose", "our horses will make it 
 in three hours more, for they are still fresh, and 
 the short cut over the ledge will give us quite an 
 hour's gain." 
 
 " Aha ! That shows you have not been over 
 this road since last winter, Jose miof" said
 
 192 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 one of the men. ' ' Did you not know that the 
 last storm in the spring finished up your short 
 cut ? And a bad job it has been for us too. Big 
 boulders were washed away from the cliffs just 
 below the first curve in the narrow path, you 
 remember how it was ? and the whole path and 
 half the mountain-side went down with them." 
 
 " Indeed ! " Jose replied, and an expression of 
 doubt came into his face as he looked at Miss 
 Summers, trim and neat again now, and content- 
 edly munching toasted tortillas with her cheese. 
 " Perhaps then, senorita," he suggested, in his bro- 
 ken English, which she perfectly understood, 
 though the others did not, " you had better remain 
 here to-night. They have a small room, bare and 
 dirty enough, but it is sometimes used for trav- 
 elers, and I will watch all night and see that all 
 is safe. There may be danger in going on if we 
 have to go by the lower river road. " 
 
 " Let us go on, Jose"," she replied. " Anything 
 would be better than staying here." And she 
 thought shudderingly of what might be her ex- 
 periences during a night in the miserable little den 
 at her disposal. It would not be possible to lie 
 down to sleep in that house, and to spend the long 
 winter night in the dark in utter wakefulness 
 would be unbearable. A wild ride, even through 
 the bitter cold and rain, seemed preferable and she 
 was thoroughly wanned and refreshed now that 
 lunch was over.
 
 THE RIDE TO LA PROVIDENCIA. 193 
 
 " If I was alone," proceeded Jose", thoughtfully, 
 while the Mexicans stared with open mouths at 
 the two conversing in the unknown tongue, " I 
 should certainly keep on. For I know the road, 
 as I have said. Are you sure that you are rested 
 enough and that you can bear four or perhaps five 
 hours more in the storm ? For it is getting to be 
 a storm now. ' ' 
 
 "Yes," replied Mary, eagerly, u I can bear any- 
 thing, except to stay in this place all night. The 
 horses can swim, and I too can swim," she 
 added, " or climb, or do anything better than sit 
 still." 
 
 " The senorita prefers to keep on, friends," said 
 Jose", at length, in Spanish to the Mexicans. " My 
 cousin is very ill, and she does not wish to lose a 
 moment on the way. As I am her escort, I must 
 do as she wishes, although I have advised her to 
 stay here. And now," rising and taking his hat, 
 " please help her on with her wraps, if they are 
 quite dry, and we must start off again, as it will 
 soon be dark. Are the candles dry, Antonio, and 
 the lanterns all right? " 
 
 They went out together with the men, while Mary 
 again arrayed herself in traveling attire. In a few 
 moments the inn was left behind and the narrow 
 defile, leading over the hill and down into a nar- 
 row valley beyond, was echoing to the hoof beats 
 of the three horses. Their progress was slow 
 here, as the ground was slippery and uncertain, 
 
 N
 
 194 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 and Antonio was sent on ahead to explore the road 
 in front. 
 
 The change was great from the open prairie to 
 the wooded slopes of the defile, and they seemed 
 to feel the rain less, although it grew bitterly cold. 
 The valley which they were approaching was 
 hardly more than a pass for the river between the 
 mountains, with the road on one side. Here and 
 there were curves of the river bed which gave 
 patches of lowland in between the cliffs, and 
 here corn and other grain were planted in their 
 season. In the summer the tinkle of cow or sheep 
 bells was heard along the banks of the river, or 
 on the mountain-sides above, nearest the fords ; but 
 now, fords and lowland meadows alike were no 
 more, as Jose* more than suspected, and the water, 
 though not yet deep, was rushing and very cold. 
 The roaring of the stream could be heard at in- 
 tervals, as they proceeded, and Jose* began to talk, 
 to prevent the tell-tale sound from reaching Mary's 
 ears. 
 
 "Do you know, senorita, that an English- 
 man was killed several years ago in the house 
 we just left? The people who lived there then 
 have all died or gone away, except the old man 
 you saw sitting in the shed outside. He is an 
 idiot now, and they say that it was he who did 
 the deed. But who knows ? " 
 
 " Why, Jose", you wanted me to spend the night 
 there."
 
 THE RIDE TO LA PROVIDENCIA. 195 
 
 ' ' You would have been as safe there as in your 
 own room in my father's house, senorita. Do 
 you believe that I would have proposed such a 
 thing to you if it had been unsafe? I believe 
 they are honest people living there now, although 
 they are rough and ignorant. And I told you 
 that I would watch all night. But about the 
 
 Englishman : He was going from S to La 
 
 Providencia, where he expected to make an invest- 
 ment in cattle for stocking a ranch which he had 
 lately bought, and the people ill the inn must 
 have known that he carried money about his per- 
 son somewhere, for he had talked of his plans 
 quite freely before retiring. His two servants 
 went off to the shed to sleep, and when one of 
 them went to call their master the next morning, 
 he found him stabbed through the heart and his 
 clothing torn to pieces, in what must have been a 
 fearful struggle, for the Englishman was a giant." 
 
 "Were not the people of the house arrested? " 
 Mary asked. 
 
 "In those days, and off here in the mountains, 
 things were not done that way. No one heard of 
 it for a long while, for the servants took them- 
 selves off when they found their master dead, per- 
 haps fearing that the murder would be laid upon 
 them. And the Englishman's horse went off with 
 them. That is the tale that got about when 
 inquiries began to be made about the missing 
 man. Then the house back there was closed for
 
 196 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 a long time, and no one knew where the people 
 had gone. Finally, the old man reappeared. He 
 was found alone in the house by a party of travel- 
 ing Mexicans, who were camping near by, and as 
 he was nearly starving, they fed him and gave 
 him a blanket to sleep in. He would not let them 
 leave him after that, and finally they decided that 
 it would be a good thing to stay and re-open the 
 inn, and there they have been ever since. The 
 old man is cared for by them, and is harmless 
 now, as you saw, with his shaking limbs and 
 blindness." 
 
 " I could not have endured to spend the night 
 there," Mary said, when Jose" had finished his tale. 
 U I suppose the poor man was murdered in that 
 very room where you wanted me to sleep." 
 
 "Yes, I suppose so," replied Jose, calmly, 
 " because it is a back room and farther from the 
 road than the others. But you see I should 
 have lain across your doorway outside, and my 
 pistols are all right," he added, clapping his hand 
 to his belt. 
 
 " Do not talk any more about such dreadful 
 things, Jose"," said Mary. "Only listen to the 
 wind in the pines overhead ; it is like music, it is 
 music ! How sweet the air is ! I am glad to see 
 pine trees again, although they are not tall and 
 straight like ours at home. See, these look 
 stunted, and are so crooked and thick. What is 
 that roaring, Jose ? " she asked, as her companion
 
 THE RIDE TO LA PROVIDENCIA. 197 
 
 remained silent and seemed straining his ears to 
 listen. 
 
 "We are coining near the river now. It is 
 about a mile from here, and the noise you 
 hear is the water, swollen by the rain." 
 
 " A mile off, and the noise so distinct ! The 
 water must be high indeed." 
 
 "Are you afraid?" Jose asked, bending nearer 
 to look at her face, for it was growing dark 
 already. 
 
 " No, I am not afraid," she replied, bravely, 
 " though it is getting a little dismal, I must con- 
 fess. What a lonesome road this is ! Does no one 
 ever pass this way ? " 
 
 "Certainly," he returned, glad to turn her 
 thoughts in another direction. "If you had 
 come along here earlier in the fall you would 
 have passed droves of donkeys loaded with wood 
 or charcoal ; and ranchmen are constantly trav- 
 eling along this road, as it is the direct communi- 
 cation between all the ranches on the plain 
 behind us and La Providencia. You would 
 not have lacked company then, but I do not know 
 that you would have been any safer." 
 
 Antonio now came toward them out of the dusk, 
 and reported the road ahead all right to the river 
 bank. 
 
 "And farther on, does it seem to be under 
 water ? " Jose asked. 
 
 " As far as I could see, it was not," replied the
 
 ig8 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 boy. " I only rode a short distance, and though 
 the mud is deep, and there is much water, the 
 river does not seem to be out of banks." 
 
 "Light the lanterns, now," ordered Jose, "and 
 tie one on each side of your saddle and ride on, 
 just in front of us. Do not go beyond hearing." 
 
 In the pause during the lighting of the candles 
 in the lanterns, Mary looked at her watch and 
 found that it was but five o'clock. She exclaimed 
 at this discovery, and thought that the watch 
 must have stopped, but found that it was ticking 
 busily. 
 
 "It will be lighter," said Jose", "when we get 
 out of this defile. The trees and the clouds 
 together cause the darkness. Now, be careful as 
 we descend here, for the road is very steep." 
 
 ' ' Are we getting back to the level of the San 
 Bernabe plain?" asked Mary, breathlessly, as the 
 horses, with a slip down the last rocky slope, at 
 last came out of the shadow and started toward the 
 river. 
 
 "No," replied Jose* ; "did you not notice 
 how much longer the ascent was than the descent ? 
 The river here is eight or nine hundred feet above 
 the level of the plain, which it does not reach for 
 fifty miles farther on. It is not much of a river, 
 after all," he went on after a while, consolingly, 
 as the roar increased and they came in sight of 
 the water. "I have ridden here many a time 
 when the bed was entirely dry, except a little
 
 THE RIDE TO LA PROVIDENCIA. 199 
 
 stream in the very center, where I would walk 
 my horse to cool his feet. It is never deep, and 
 only a misstep now of one of the horses could 
 cause an accident. We do not enter the water at 
 all if the road is dry, until we come to what is 
 called the Devil's Gate, where for a quarter of a 
 mile the pass is so narrow that there is no room for 
 the road. " 
 
 "The water will be deep there, then?" ques- 
 tioned Mary, quickly. 
 
 "Then we can swim," returned Jose", who had 
 already been revolving this possible contingency 
 in his mind. 
 
 Meantime the rain did not cease for a moment, 
 and some had found an ingress beneath Mary's 
 hood, so that she was growing damp and uncom- 
 fortable. The wind, also, was strong down the 
 gulch, and the horses began to show signs of 
 fatigue. 
 
 They plodded on, however, without mishap, 
 guided after a while entirely by Antonio's lan- 
 terns, while even the rushing water a few feet 
 away was invisible. 
 
 At six o'clock, the mountain sides began to 
 close in on each side of the stream, and the cliffs 
 loomed dark and forbidding ahead. Jose* guided 
 Mary's horse to the partial shelter of an over- 
 hanging rock, and putting a pistol into her hand, 
 bade her wait there for a few moments with An- 
 tonio while he went forward to inspect the road.
 
 200 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 He took one of the lanterns with him and urged 
 his unwilling horse into the darkness. 
 
 After what seemed to Mary an hour of waiting, 
 his lantern again flashed across the puddles in the 
 road, and he rode up to the two under the rock, 
 dripping with water, which could not be all rain. 
 
 ''It does not matter," he declared, shrugging 
 his shoulders at Mary's exclamation of dismay. 
 " I am no wetter than I was before. But really I 
 do not see how I can let you take that cold bath. 
 It will not take the horses off their feet, however, 
 if they do not step into any holes or stumble over 
 the rocks in the water." 
 
 "What are you going to do?" she queried, as 
 he dismounted and approached her. " See, poor 
 Grisito looks ready to drop," as the gray horse 
 hung his head and trembled. 
 
 " Yes, he is a little blown ; but the worst will be 
 over when we get into the road again. Devil's 
 Gate is just ahead, and a mile beyond we shall see 
 the lights of L,a Providencia. Now, I am going 
 to shorten your stirrup, and tuck your skirts well 
 up about the saddle. One foot will be wet what- 
 ever we do." 
 
 "Why did you leave me your pistol, Jose*?" 
 she asked, as he unbuckled and re-buckled the 
 straps. 
 
 "Because I did not know how it would be on 
 there ahead, and if I had not come back, you and 
 Antonio would have had to ride back to the inn.
 
 THE RIDE TO LA PROVIDENCIA. 2OI 
 
 I thought it best for you to have the pistol ; now, 
 however, I will relieve you of it." 
 
 Mary silently took up the weary road again, 
 wondering how it was possible that this simple 
 countryman was possessed of such instinctive 
 chivalry of manner and pure goodness of heart 
 when his only education or culture had been that 
 of the ranch school, followed by heterogeneous 
 reading of such books as he could find between 
 the city of S and La Providencia. 
 
 "It is not from books nor the sciences," she 
 thought, " that one gets sweetness of nature and 
 purity of life. His mother must have been a 
 superior woman, and I believe that he was her 
 only child. Raquel is good and true, and Eduardo 
 is honest and interesting, but they lack the gentle 
 ways that are natural to Jose*. ' ' 
 
 Here her horse set his foot in the river, follow- 
 ing Jose and succeeded by Antonio.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IN THE RIVER. 
 
 Why should'st thou fill to-day with sorrow 
 About to-morrow, 
 
 My heart ? 
 
 One watches all with care most true, 
 Doubt not that he will give thee too 
 
 Thy part. 
 
 it seemed to grow colder and darker. 
 - The horses bravely pushed on through the 
 icy water which was not too deep to prevent them 
 from keeping on their legs. Occasionally they 
 stumbled upon the loose rocks in the bed of the 
 stream, but they progressed for twenty minutes or 
 more without much difficulty, although Mary felt 
 her mare's labored breathing quiver through her 
 whole body as she stretched her head out above 
 the level of the water to keep mouth and nose from 
 filling. Mary had long ago lost the sensation 
 of wet and cold in her lower limbs, and was anx- 
 iously longing to put an end to their prolonged 
 exposure. 
 
 Jose" had just turned his head to shout above the 
 noise of the water, " We are almost at the shore- 
 road again," when "Black Jane" stumbled sud- 
 denly, fell upon her knees and then rolled over be-
 
 IN THE RIVER. 203 
 
 neatli the water. She had planted her fore feet in 
 a hole, and was prevented by the current of .the 
 stream from regaining her footing. Antonio and 
 Jose were on the spot in a moment, startled by the 
 splash, and Antonio soon had the mare on her feet 
 again, while Jose groped for Maty, who seemed 
 lying at the bottom of the stream. The spirit had 
 been so effectually wearied and chilled out of the 
 poor animal that she had hardly struggled after the 
 first vain effort to recover herself, and Mary's life 
 was, perhaps, due to her passiveness. She had fallen 
 from the saddle when " Black Jane " fell, as she 
 had taken her foot from the stirrup to keep it out 
 of the water, and her seat was necessarily insecure. 
 In the few seconds before Jose could get to her, 
 his heart seemed to stand still with terror, for he 
 could not see that she made any effort to extricate 
 herself, and when he lifted her from the water she 
 was quite unconscious. Antonio led the horses to 
 the shore, a few yards on ahead, while Jose waded 
 through the water up to his armpits with Maty in 
 his arms. He laid her down upon the side of the 
 road under a gnarled old pine tree, which jutted 
 out from the steep mountain side above, and sent 
 Antonio forward to the first house, a half-mile 
 ahead, where the town suburbs began. The boy 
 was to have a bed prepared and to bring some one 
 who should aid them in carrying Maty to the 
 house. The hoof-beats had scarcely passed out of 
 hearing, however, when partial consciousness re-
 
 204 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 turned to Mary, and as if in a dream she heard, 
 above the roar of the water and the moaning of 
 the wind in the trees, the sound of a voice in pas- 
 sionate prayer : 
 
 "God in heaven, 1 ' pleaded the voice, "give 
 back her life ! Do not let it be that I have killed 
 her ; thou knowest if I have done wrong in loving 
 her, but thou, Jesus, will pardon me, for thou 
 knowest how sweet and tender she was. Oh, my 
 God, I will promise to serve thee, and to " 
 
 "Jose," said a feeble voice, and he was by her 
 side in a moment. 
 
 " Senorita ! " he exclaimed in an ecstasy ; " sen- 
 orita mia, vida de me corazon ! " * 
 
 " I am very cold, Jose". Let us go somewhere 
 to the fire to a house." 
 
 "If I only had some spirits," he murmured, 
 holding her cold hands and chafing them with his 
 own colder ones. 
 
 " There, in my bag a bottle ! " she faltered. 
 
 He sprang to Black Jane's side, found the bag 
 by the light of the lantern, and again was at 
 Mary's side with the flask and poured a small 
 quantity into the little cup fitted upon the flask. 
 
 After drinking some she sat up and looked 
 around at the wild scene in dismay. The lantern 
 showed Josh's dripping form and the drooping 
 figures of the two horses standing quietly side by 
 side near by. The narrow road was bordered on 
 
 1 My sefiorita, life of my heart !
 
 IN THE RIVER. 2O5 
 
 one side by the stream and on the other by the 
 precipitous hillside, and she could see no sign of 
 the lights of the town. 
 
 " If you think you can go on now, sen- 
 orita, a quarter of an hour will bring us into L,a 
 Providencia. But rest a moment, if you like, 
 for see, it is scarcely raining at all now, and you 
 are some what sheltered." 
 
 " Did you get me out of the water, Jose ? I do 
 not remember very well what happened." 
 
 " I thought you were dead," he answered, in a 
 low voice, after explaining her fall and the rescue ; 
 "and senorita, if you had died, I should have 
 died also." 
 
 " I think I must have fainted," she interrupted 
 him. " Several times I felt dizzy when I saw the 
 water rushing by. If it had not been for the 
 faintness I should have been able to extricate 
 myself and get up. And you did not leave me 
 long enough in the water to drown. ' ' 
 
 "I cannot tell you what I felt, as I brought 
 you here in my arms," he continued, not heeding 
 her interruption. " I thought that if you were 
 dead I should like to just keep on walking all 
 my life through the dark with your head on my 
 shoulder, and " 
 
 "Jose, hush!" exclaimed Mary, sternly; "I 
 cannot listen to such words. You must not tell 
 me any more, for to-morrow you will be yourself 
 again and will be sorry that you forgot yourself."
 
 206 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 "Have I forgotten myself? Ah, yes, there is 
 to-morrow, and we must think of to-morrow," 
 bitterly. 
 
 "I can go on now," Mary said, very gently. And 
 she arose hastily to her feet without seeing the 
 hand he extended to assist her. Jose turned wear- 
 ily away and brought the horses nearer, and soon 
 Mary was in her seat again. As he turned from 
 her to mount his own horse the rays from the 
 lantern fastened to his saddle-bow fell upon his 
 face and showed it so white and full of pain that 
 Mary thought he must have been hurt in rescu- 
 ing her or the horse from the water. 
 
 "Jose," she exclaimed, "what is the matter? 
 Are you hurt? You did not tell me ! " 
 
 " Hurt ? Yes ; but not as you mean, senorita. 
 Will you pardon me for what I said? If if 
 it had not happened, if you had not fallen, you 
 would never have known. You will forget that 
 I ever spoke so to you, will you not, senorita?" 
 He was standing with one hand upon the pommel 
 of his saddle and his eyes cast down before her 
 pitying look. 
 
 " Yes, I shall forget, and so will you, Jose*. You 
 were frightened and did not know what you were 
 saying. We will say and think no more about it." 
 
 "You will think no more about it," Jose 
 whispered to himself, as they rode drearily on. 
 "But as for me, my dear senorita, you know 
 nothing about it."
 
 IN THE RIVER. 207 
 
 All this had occupied very little time, counted 
 by seconds, however much of life was lived in 
 those few moments by one of the party. So after 
 riding along wearily enough for a quarter of an 
 hour, they found Antonio trying in vain to induce 
 the men of the nearest house to set out to the 
 relief of the unfortunate travelers. 
 
 " It is only a trap, ' ' the men had declared, ' ' and 
 we will not be deceived by your tales. To be 
 knocked in the head and our house robbed by half 
 a dozen brigands would be a fitting job for a night 
 like this, but we decline to be sharers in it." 
 
 "Why did you not bring the young lady on 
 your horse ? " a woman had demanded. 
 
 "She is drowned, I tell you, and niy master 
 will not have her swung like a dead sheep over 
 the pommel of the saddle. ' ' 
 
 Josh's arrival put an end to this discussion, and 
 all then rode on, to an accompaniment of sur- 
 prised exclamations from the dwellers in the cot- 
 tage. 
 
 The travelers were clattering up the steep paved 
 street leading into the town when the church 
 clock struck seven. Here and there a feeble lamp- 
 light nickered at the corners, but most of the 
 houses showed dark front windows. Just when it 
 seemed to Mary that she could not bear one step 
 more, Jose* stopped in front of a wide door, and 
 before alighting, leaned down and lifted the brass 
 knocker and let it fall gently.
 
 208 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 "Here we are at my aunt's house, senorita." 
 He spoke to her for the first time. " Now you will 
 rest." 
 
 The doors were opened and a servant woman ap- 
 peared. Mary was landed, wet, tired, and miserable 
 in the paved hallway, and while the servant went 
 in search of her mistress, Angela's mother, Mary 
 had time to realize that she was in a house of some 
 wealth and comfort. Jose" led her to a seat in 
 the corridor, as she was too wet to enter the sala, 
 and a hanging lamp showed the inner court full 
 of flowers, while a little fountain played in the 
 midst. 
 
 Then motherly arms embraced her and a rosy- 
 cheeked woman stood before her, whom Jose* 
 greeted as his aunt. 
 
 "You have come," she cried, joyfully, then 
 lowered her voice ; " it seems a miracle. How 
 was it possible ? " 
 
 " The senorita is half-dead with cold and hun- 
 ger," interrupted Jose*. "Tell us how Angelita 
 is, and then the Senorita Maria must go to her 
 room. She ought not to see Angela to-night. " 
 
 " My Angelita is just the same as she was last 
 night when I sent the man off to you. I fear she 
 cannot live, my beautiful little angel. You would 
 not know her, Jose", with all her beauty gone. 
 No, the senorita need not see her to-night, and she 
 will not know that she is here. Poor little one," 
 she added, taking Mary's limp hand in her own
 
 IN THE RIVER. 209 
 
 fat, warm one. " Come, let me put you to bed, 
 and you shall have something hot to eat and 
 drink." 
 
 " And Angela ? " Mary asked faintly, for she 
 was almost exhausted ; "I came to nurse her. She 
 will want you." 
 
 " Her papa is with her, and besides she knows 
 no one. To-morrow you shall see her ; you could 
 not bear it now. She is all changed now, and I 
 cannot believe that she is my pretty child." 
 
 Mary suffered herself to be led off to her room, 
 and to be cared for by the motherly hands that 
 were happy in giving relief to her who was suffer- 
 ing thus for her daughter's sake. Thoroughly 
 wanned and fed, she soon lay wrapped in a flannel 
 dressing-gown, to be ready if there should be need 
 of her during the night, and Dona Isabel stole 
 from the room hoping that she would sleep. 
 
 The coals in the brazier, which had been brought 
 into the room to take a little of the chill from the 
 air, glowed redly, and from the soft light diffused 
 about her Mary saw all the details of the clean, 
 little apartment. White curtains hung at the 
 window and the single brass bedstead was draped 
 with white hangings. Two or three chairs, a 
 little washstand, and a table completed the furni- 
 ture. Opposite the foot of the bed hung a soft 
 engraving of the Madonna and Child ; and before 
 this swung the tiny light of a taper held in a 
 quaintly shaped little vessel of crystal. In every
 
 2IO A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 room in the house there were just such little 
 lights burning before the pictures of the virgin, 
 who was expected to be propitiated by this atten- 
 tion and perhaps to save the sick girl's life. 
 
 Maty sighed as she turned her face away from 
 the little point of light, and it was long before 
 her aching limbs and troubled thoughts would let 
 her sleep. 
 
 "Life is difficult! " she murmured, to herself. 
 " Why must I cause distress and trouble to poor 
 Jose, when I only wish to help him ! Then, there 
 is Angela. She will probably die, and if I am in 
 the house they will all say it is my fault." And 
 she turned restlessly on her pillow. " Anyhow, 
 I am glad I came. I shall make the mother my 
 friend, and perhaps Angela will live. Poor little 
 Juan ! Poor Martina ! ' ' she sighed, as her 
 thoughts strayed back to San Bernabe and her 
 work there. 
 
 Martina's lonely fate was rarely out of her 
 mind, and she could hardly wait for the woman's 
 resentment, stirred up by old Juana's lies, to die 
 away before seeking her again and cultivating 
 the friendship of the now desolate mother. 
 
 She fell asleep amid her plans, and the virgin 
 mother smiled sadly down all night upon the little 
 light illuminating her face. The charcoal burned 
 to ashes and the rain pattered fitfully upon the 
 roof, but the young missionary did not wake until 
 morning.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 NURSING SMALL-POX. 
 
 A child's kiss 
 
 Set on thy sighing lips shall make thee glad ; 
 A poor man served by thee shall make thee rich; 
 A sick man helped by thee shall make thee strong ; 
 Thou shall be served thyself by every sense 
 Of service which thou renderest. 
 
 E. B Browning. 
 
 A NGEIyA VERA had been ill for eight or nine 
 ** days when Miss Summers reached La Provi- 
 dencia, and the disease was then at its height. A 
 more revolting sight could hardly be imagined 
 than met her eyes when she entered the sick room 
 on the morning after her arrival. The figure on 
 the bed bore not the slightest resemblance to the 
 bright, laughing girl who had danced with Cap- 
 tain Daniel only two weeks before. The poor face 
 was terribly swollen and completely covered with 
 the sores, which had taken the confluent form, and 
 the whole surface was a solid abscess. It was the 
 same with the hands, which were twice their nat- 
 ural size, and lay helpless and discolored upon the 
 bed-cover. The sparkling black eyes were closed, 
 sealed fast by the swollen lids, and the lips were 
 blackened and parched with fever. 
 
 211
 
 212 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 A miserable moaning greeted Mary's ears as she 
 hurried to the bedside, undaunted by the sickening 
 sight before her. Angela seemed to recognize her 
 voice, as the delirium had decreased during the 
 night ; but the two large tears which issued from 
 the veiled eyes and rolled slowly down her cheeks 
 were the only signs of recognition that she could 
 give at first. Her friend sat beside her during the 
 long hours of the morning, while the parents de- 
 clared that Angela had not been so quiet for several 
 days, and the hoarse voice ceased its plaintive cry 
 for the Senorita Maria. Once during the morning 
 the swollen lips parted and . painfully uttered a 
 word or two. 
 
 " Maria, agua ! Ay de mi! " * she sighed. 
 
 With the greatest difficulty she was able to 
 swallow a few spoonfuls of water, to which Mary 
 added a little stimulant, as her pulse was very 
 feeble. So the day passed ; there was not 
 much to do, except to give light nourishment at 
 intervals and moisten the fevered lips and tongue 
 with cold water, which the sick girl took greedily. 
 
 Though the day was cloudy and dark, Mary 
 closed the shutters inside, leaving only enough 
 light to enable the watchers to move about the 
 room ; for she could not endure the thought of 
 the pretty face being spoiled by the dreadful scars 
 so often seen on the faces of the Mexicans who 
 have had small-pox, and she hoped to avoid this 
 
 1 " Mary, water ! Woe is me ! "
 
 NURSING SMALL-POX. 213 
 
 by protecting her from the light. Angela was 
 quiet only when Mary was at her side, and after 
 a while the father and mother stole away to take 
 a much-needed rest. 
 
 Toward dark, Angela's restlessness grew very 
 great ; the fever was high, and she moaned con- 
 tinually with pain. Mary's voice failed to soothe 
 her, and at length sharp, short cries of pain burst 
 from her lips as she moved head, hands, and feet 
 in her agony. 
 
 " This day and to-morrow are the worst days, 
 Dona Isabel," said Mary; "after that she will 
 begin to feel better. I shall try to relieve it as I 
 have done in the hospital at home, although I 
 fear that her restlessness will not bear it." 
 
 They were sitting, one on each side of the little 
 bed, where the wreck of so much perfect health 
 and beauty lay, and the mother gladly urged that 
 Mary would do what she thought best. 
 
 " I put her into your hands, senorita ; you know 
 better than we. The doctor said last night that 
 she would not live through the day." 
 
 " Hush ! " whispered Mary, warningly, as the 
 patient made a harsh sound in her throat, 
 and tried to speak. " I have seen people get 
 well who were much worse than Angela. Be 
 patient, little girl," she said, tenderly, close to 
 her ear. ' ' After a day or two more you will be 
 better, I am sure. ' ' 
 
 Then she prepared a quantity of soft lint soaked
 
 214 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 in cold water, mixed with a little bi-chloride anti- 
 septic solution, and laid this gently over the burn- 
 ing hands and feet and head. The constant wet- 
 ting and renewing of the lint kept both nurses 
 busy all night, but they had the satisfaction of 
 seeing most of the restlessness disappear toward 
 daybreak from the relief given by the applications. 
 The next three or four days there was a con- 
 stant struggle to alleviate the pain. 
 
 Dona Isabel and her husband, Don Ignacio, 
 watched in amazement the soft, white hands of 
 the nurse as they made her patient comfortable, 
 and they marveled at the gentle firmness that in- 
 sisted on obedience where the indulgence of a 
 whim of the invalid would have wrought disastrous 
 results. Mary's face grew pale and thin with this 
 constant nursing, and when, about ten days after 
 she first entered the sick room, she felt that she 
 might leave her patient for an hour with Dona 
 Isabel, her limbs almost refused to carry her 
 across the little garden in front of the house. 
 Angela's fever was not gone, but it was subsiding 
 by degrees. Her piteous little mouth had learned 
 to smile again, and as her eyes opened feebly she 
 could once more see her mother's face, and watch 
 her nurse as she went noiselessly about the room. 
 So there was no reason now why Mary should not 
 leave her for a while and go out in the fresh, rain- 
 washed streets for a breath of air. 
 
 In the sunny plaza there was no hint of the
 
 NURSING SMALL-POX. 215 
 
 cruel plague abroad in the town, only perhaps 
 there were fewer children than there would have 
 been in its absence. The sun was shining for the 
 first time since the beginning of the rainy season, 
 nearly two weeks before, and the glossy leaves of the 
 orange trees glistened in the sunlight. It was too 
 cold to be still, and Mary wrapped her shawl 
 more closely about her as she crossed the plaza, 
 and walked toward the church on the other side. 
 She had thrown a black shawl, Mexican fashion, 
 over her head and shoulders, and thus passed un- 
 noticed through the midst of strolling workmen 
 and the shawled women in the plaza. She 
 thought she saw Jose seated under a tree across 
 the garden, but he did not look up. He had re- 
 mained in La Providencia, hovering about the 
 house and the door of the sick-room, but he had 
 not been allowed to enter. 
 
 Mary had scarcely spoken to him, for all her 
 thoughts had been occupied with her nursing, but 
 several times she had seen his pale, sad face 
 haunting the court or corridor. 
 
 He was watching her now from beneath the 
 broad brim of his hat, as he sat muffled in a 
 voluminous cloak, although Mary did not know it. 
 
 When he saw her enter the great doors of the 
 church of San Antonio, he rose and followed her, 
 and stood with other men about the entrance to 
 the nave, where vespers were going on. He won- 
 dered a little at seeing her enter the church, then
 
 2l6 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 remembered that there was a fine painting, 
 ascribed to Murillo, in one of the chapels, which 
 all foreigners were eager to see. 
 
 The truth was that his friend was not thinking 
 of paintings, nor of Murillo, just then. An instinct 
 to escape from the crowded plaza and street had 
 led her toward the church, and she imagined that 
 by passing through the nave she would be able to 
 find a side door which would lead her out upon 
 the back street, where she might take a quiet 
 walk, unjostled by the throng abroad at this hour 
 in the plaza and about the church. It was as she 
 had thought. A side door opened into a small 
 paved court shadowed by the great buttresses of 
 the outer walls of the building, and a little iron 
 gate opened upon a narrow street, where only a few 
 children were at play, and an old woman or two 
 basked in the sun. This was what she wished to 
 find, and as she regained strength with exercise, 
 she walked happily along, enjoying for a while 
 the freedom from the sick-room. She could not 
 long be content away from her charge, however, 
 and an hour had not passed before she stood again 
 at Angela's side, looking down upon the refresh- 
 ing sleep of the patient. 
 
 " She will get well now, Dona Isabel," she 
 whispered ; " only let her sleep like that as much 
 as she can. Her bath refreshed her and made her 
 drowsy. She must have one every day now." 
 
 " Ah, senorita, we do not know how to bless
 
 NURSING SMAI^-POX. 217 
 
 you for what you have done. Words of thanks 
 do not seem to touch it at all. Angela will help 
 us to thank you when she is well again. But do 
 you think she will have lost all her beauty? 
 Will the scars be like those of poor Alicia, next 
 door?" 
 
 " I hope that Angela will not be badly scarred, 
 Dona Isabel. A good deal depends upon keeping 
 the room dark, and wet cloths upon the face. In 
 a few days now the fever will be gone. Then she 
 must sit up and take more nourishment to regain 
 her strength. I tell you this now, because it may 
 be necessary for me to return to San Bernabe' 
 while this better weather lasts. I must speak to 
 Jose* about it to-night." 
 
 Meanwhile, Jose waited at the church door in 
 vain for Mary to reappear, and he had just con- 
 cluded that she had left the church by a side door 
 and was about to descend the steps and return to 
 the house, when he saw approaching the' familiar 
 figure of Don Gregorio, the San Bernabe school- 
 teacher. He was not alone, for a priest was walk- 
 ing by his side and both were talking earnestly. 
 Jose" remained standing in his place when he saw 
 that the men were approaching the church door, 
 but he drew his hat farther over his well-known 
 features and muffled his cloak closer about the 
 lower part of his face. Both men were as well 
 known to him as was his own father, for Don 
 Gregorio had taught him to read long years ago,
 
 2l8 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 and the priest was no other than Father Esteban 
 Lopez, the young confessor of San Bernabe'. 
 
 As they mounted the steps and passed Jose, 
 he heard words that made him start and listen and 
 then follow them as they entered the church. All 
 three bared their heads as they went inside, but 
 only the schoolmaster and the priest knelt and 
 crossed themselves. Jose" remained standing in 
 the dim corner beside the side altar before which 
 the others had prostrated themselves, holding his 
 hat in his hand, and with the lower part of his 
 face still muffled in his cloak. He stood so near 
 that he could follow the conversation still carried 
 on between the two, apparently devoutly occupied 
 with their prayers. A beautiful life-sized figure 
 in wax of Saint Joseph presided over the altar 
 before which the three men had paused, and the 
 mild, pink face gazed down innocently upon the 
 kneeling figures below. On one pink hand, 
 raised in the act of blessing, a splendid diamond 
 ring glittered and the gold thread in the magnifi- 
 cent robe draped over the figure, gleamed in the 
 light of the wax candles burning on the altar. 
 
 Jose* stood as if attentively examining the figure 
 of the saint with his face turned away from the 
 men, but his ears were wide open to what they 
 were saying and his face grew pale and his blue 
 eyes flashed with anger as the half-whispered 
 words continued. After a little a fat market 
 woman fell upon her knees by the side of the
 
 NURSING SMALL-POX. 2 19 
 
 padre and brought an untimely end to the con- 
 versation of the two friends. Father Esteban 
 touched his companion's sleeve, and both arose 
 hastily as if caught in some act less innocent than 
 repeating a few paternosters or half a dozen ave 
 Marias before the waxen figure. 
 
 Jose did not follow them as they walked hur- 
 riedly up the nave and disappeared in the side 
 chapel of the virgin, at the right of the high 
 altar. He had heard enough to make it all im- 
 portant not to run any risk of recognition by the 
 others, and he was glad to leave the oppressive, 
 incense-laden air of the church and find his way 
 out into the street amid the thronging masses of 
 people who were now entering the church by the 
 main door. He hurried across the plaza toward 
 his uncle's house, and when he stood within the 
 tiled corridor extending around the square inner 
 court, he sent a servant to call Miss Summers, as 
 he had something of importance to say to her. 
 She was still sitting with Dona Isabel, a little re- 
 moved from the bedside of the sleeping girl, and 
 when she received Josh's message she immediately 
 arose and went out into the corridor. 
 
 "Sit down a little moment, senorita," Jose 
 began, as she stood before him waiting for what 
 he had to say to her. "I shall not keep you 
 long." 
 
 Mary was shocked to see the change that had 
 come over his face since the morning when they
 
 220 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 had set out from San Bernabe", so sad and white it 
 had grown, and there were dark circles about the 
 eyes, which hardly looked into her own now. 
 She sat down on one of the iron benches near the 
 little splashing fountain and waited for him to 
 continue. 
 
 " I thought perhaps you might have some mes- 
 sage to send by me to San Bernabe', " he went on, 
 " or that there might be something you need from 
 there. As the diligence is running again now, 
 and will return here the day after to-morrow, Re- 
 fugio can send you anything you may wish. I 
 shall have to return to the ranch, and as I leave 
 before sunrise to-morrow, I thought it best to give 
 you time to write anything you may need to say to 
 Petra or Refugio." 
 
 ' ' But Jose", can you not stay only two or three 
 days longer and let me return with you ? Angela 
 will be well enough then for me to leave, and I 
 am anxious to get back to San Bernabe'. ' ' 
 
 4 ' I am sorry, senorita, but I really must go to- 
 morrow morning. I ought to have gone a week 
 ago. I was not needed here, I know very well, 
 but " 
 
 " I know," interrupted Mary, as he hesitated, 
 " Angela was so ill and you wished to be here if 
 she died. It was very natural, I am sure. I sup- 
 pose, however, that if you must go, there is no 
 reason why I should not go home in the diligence 
 in a day or two. You say that it will be here the
 
 NURSING SMAIX-POX. 221 
 
 day after to-morrow, then in two more days it will 
 return to San Bernabe, is it not so ? " 
 
 " Yes," Jose" replied, " and I suppose there is no 
 reason, as you say, why you should not return in 
 that way. It will be a rough trip, much worse 
 than on horseback, but you will be perfectly safe 
 and it will be all by daylight, except the first hour 
 or two. If you decide to take the diligence then, 
 Antonio can return with me, riding Black Jane 
 and leading his own horse, as Jane will not be 
 led." 
 
 "Well, that will be best after all," said Mary, 
 relieved, for she had dreaded the long tdte-cl-t&te 
 ride with Jose", from whom, however, she knew she 
 had nothing to fear, beyond a severe constraint of 
 manner. "In four days Angela will be able to sit 
 up a little, and will need me no longer. What is 
 calling you home so suddenly, Jose?" she asked, 
 as he seemed to be thinking deeply. ' ' Have you 
 had news from the ranch ? ' ' 
 
 "No," he answered, and then looked quickly 
 at her, as if he meant to say something further. 
 He must have thought better of it, however, for 
 he closed his lips firmly and half turned away. 
 
 "I shall be glad to send a note by you to 
 Cuca," Mary said, as she turned to leave him; 
 "and I will have it ready by bedtime. I must 
 go to Angela now, as she will be waking soon." 
 
 "Wait one moment, senorita," Jose spoke with 
 an effort ; " I just wanted to say that La Providen-
 
 222 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 cia is not just like our ranch, and that you I I 
 mean to say that you ought not to go about alone 
 here. I wish you would promise not to go out at 
 all while you remain here, unless Dona Isabel goes 
 with you. I would rather you did not go out at 
 all. "Believe me," he added, earnestly, "there 
 is reason for this, although it looks like interfer- 
 ence on my part. ' ' 
 
 " Why, Jose, how can you be so foolish ? There 
 can be no harm in my running out for a breath of 
 air every day, now that Angela is so much better. 
 But if Dona Isabella must go out with me, it 
 would not be possible, as one must stay with 
 Angela." 
 
 " You know our custom, senorita," he persisted ; 
 but he could not look into her eyes now, knowing 
 that he was not perfectly frank, and yet unwilling 
 to explain the real motive of his request. 
 
 "Yes, I know that in a city it would not be 
 proper for me to go roaming alone through the 
 streets, but here in this little mountain town it is 
 very different, and it is not like you, Jose", to be 
 foolish. I shall do nothing improper, you may be 
 very sure, but I cannot give up my walks out of 
 doors whenever there is opportunity for them. I 
 am like a caged bird, and would die indoors with 
 all this bright sunshine outside.'' 
 
 "For four days only?" he insisted, much to 
 Mary's surprise, for such behavior was unlike 
 Tose".
 
 NURSING SMALIXPOX. 223 
 
 "No, indeed," she cried, impatient at last; 
 "what can possibly harm me? The days are 
 past when one is ' given ' with a stiletto in broad 
 daylight 011 the street, and besides, no one knows 
 me here." 
 
 "The whole town knows you," he replied; 
 ' ' every one knows that the Protestant teacher 
 from San Bernabe is here, and that she is nursing 
 Don Ignacio's daughter, Angela." 
 
 " I am sure there is no harm in that," she re- 
 torted. ' ' Jose, what do you mean ? I arn sure you 
 are thinking more than you say." 
 
 " One must not always say all one thinks," he 
 replied, oracularly ; "of course, you will do as you 
 think best in the matter, and I am not afraid of 
 any personal injury to yourself ; if there were dan- 
 ger of that kind, do you think I would leave you 
 here alone? Unpleasant things may be said to 
 you, that is all ; and as you are a stranger in the 
 town your walks may not be well chosen. For- 
 give me," he added, "for my interference." 
 
 Mary went wonderingly away, but she did 
 not feel inclined to relinquish her liberty in the 
 matter of walks about the town. 
 
 When she handed her note for Refugio to Jose* 
 that night, she gave him her hand in farewell, 
 and sent messages of love to Raquel and Petra. 
 
 " See, Martina, if you can," she begged, "and 
 let her know that I think of her every day." 
 
 "Before you go, senorita," Jose* said, with a
 
 224 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 tremor in liis voice, " I want to ask if you have 
 quite forgiven me for all that happened for what 
 I said to you the night we came here. You said 
 you would forget it ; but iny memory is better 
 than yours, and I cannot rest until I know that all 
 is forgiven. I have felt a perfect wretch since 
 then for taking the liberty to speak as I did, and 
 I cannot forgive myself." 
 
 Jose's words had really been very few on the 
 occasion to which he referred, but he knew, and 
 she knew; the full meaning of what he had said, 
 and she had not been able to put out of her mind 
 the agonized accents of the prayer she had over- 
 heard when he fancied her dying or dead. With- 
 out pretending to misunderstand him, therefore, 
 she looked kindly into his face and replied : 
 
 "We all make mistakes sometimes, Jose", and 
 life seems very difficult at times. I have no right 
 to judge you for your mistakes, which I am sure 
 you are willing to correct as soon as you are able. 
 I do forgive with all my heart all that needs for- 
 giveness in your words to me then, and I am sure 
 that you will forget them some day, and that we 
 shall be good friends again. We are friends now, 
 are we not ? " 
 
 He could not reply, but he bent over the hand 
 she offered him again and kissed it. Then he 
 hurried away to his own room.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE PRIEST AND THE SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting 
 arms. Deut. 33 : 27. 
 
 CENOR GREGORIO NUftEZ, the boys' 
 O schoolmaster in San Bernabe, had been edu- 
 cated at the Jesuit College of San Juan, in S . 
 
 If in nothing else he had done credit to his black- 
 robed teachers in that college, his stolid zeal for 
 the welfare of his religion had proved his early 
 connection with that hot-bed of Roman Catholic 
 instruction. Since the bright winter afternoons 
 of his youth, when the whole school, in double 
 file, would be taken to walk under the grand old 
 trees in the park, until his latter years, spent for 
 the most part in the ranch schoolroom, he had 
 hated foreigners, and Americans especially, with 
 a hatred which strengthened with his years. As 
 a young man, when the despised missionaries' 
 
 teaching was yet new in S , there was no 
 
 student so zealous as he in throwing stones against 
 the windows of the little Protestant mission room, 
 nor in spitting upon the doors, and even the per- 
 sons, of the white-faced foreigners. As a mature 
 man, he had assisted at many a tumult about the 
 
 p 225
 
 226 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 doors of the chapel where the pitifully small band 
 of worshipers gathered every week with their 
 heroic leaders ; and his had often been the voice 
 to instigate the prolonged hiss or contemptuous 
 cursing in the market-place, directed against the 
 well-known person of some Protestant passing by. 
 Now, in his lonely life, which he was spending in 
 the ranch where he was born, his enmity took a 
 more secret, but not less bitter, form. His family 
 was all gone, for the bones of wife and child lay 
 in a back corner of the Campo Santo, in S . 
 
 In these days, the schoolmaster was putting 
 forth his best strength upon training the boys 
 committed to his care in all the sacred teachings 
 of the church, and however slow the progress 
 made in spelling or in writing, the catechism and 
 the legends of the saints were most faithfully 
 taught. 
 
 He had been well satisfied with the slow progress 
 of Protestantism in San Bernabe in the first years 
 after the formation of the mission church there, 
 and he had been Jesuit enough not to make any 
 marked opposition to the sowing of seed which he 
 was sure must soon die a natural death in an 
 atmosphere and soil so entirely foreign to its 
 nature. Still, he kept his eyes wide open to all 
 the doings of the little band of Baptists, and never 
 omitted a secret opportunity of casting a slight 
 upon one of its humble members ; yet he was wily 
 enough to keep within the good graces of Eduardo
 
 THE PRIEST AND THE SCHOOLMASTER. 227 
 
 Vera, upon whom depended his position as school- 
 master. 
 
 When Miss Summers came to live in San 
 Bernabe his eyes opened a little wider and grew a 
 little more observant, for he soon foresaw what 
 might be her influence with the women of the 
 community. The correctness of this prognostica- 
 tion was not long in being confirmed, for, as has 
 been said, the congregations in the mission house 
 had increased, the Sunday-school had been formed 
 and was flourishing, and the missionary's name 
 was on the tongue of many mothers and daughters, 
 even among those who were professed Romanists, 
 as often as that of the virgin or the saints. He 
 was closely studying the religious temperature 
 of the community, and had already come to the 
 conclusion that it was needful for Padre Esteban 
 to hasten his footsteps in the direction of San 
 Bernabe, when the news spread through the 
 ranch that the chapel dedicated to the Virgin 
 Mary by the Sefiora Vera was not to be completed. 
 
 Naturally this information did not diminish his 
 suspicions of the young teacher's influence in the 
 family of Vera, and while his boys were incited to 
 louder vociferation in the schoolroom opposite the 
 mission house, his thoughts were busily at work 
 and his plans forming, during little Juan's illness 
 and the days of storm following. His school 
 children were made very happy one morning, 
 when Mary had already been in La Providencia
 
 228 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 more than a week, by the announcement that their 
 teacher would give them a few days' holiday, as 
 he needed to go to La Providencia on business. 
 
 The old mule which had served his master for 
 many years on the Sunday journeys to and from 
 mass in La Bienvenida, was brought out of his 
 stall that same morning, and by night Don 
 Gregorio was safely housed in the house of his 
 young friend, the Padre Bsteban. 
 
 Although the priest had easily perceived that 
 unusual business must have brought the man so 
 far in such stormy weather, he would not let his 
 visitor open his heart to him until he had supped. 
 Later, while both men sat by the dismantled 
 table, smoking one cigarette after another, the 
 schoolmaster told his tale. 
 
 Father Esteban listened from beginning to end, 
 without once interrupting his visitor in his recital. 
 It was not the first time that news had come to 
 him of the work of the foreign lady in San 
 Bernabe' ; had he not imposed a whole day's fast, 
 with fifty aves, morning and night for a week, 
 upon pretty little Angela Vera, when she had con- 
 fessed to him her attendance at the mission ser- 
 vice? He smiled now behind his plump hand as 
 he remembered the pretty curl of her lips, and 
 then his face grew grave again as he recollected 
 the danger in which her bright young life had 
 lain since. He forced attention to Don Gregorio's 
 last words :
 
 THE PRIEST A.ND THE SCHOOLMASTER. 229 
 
 " One of two things must and will happen. 
 Either this thing called Protestantism must be 
 stamped out, once and for all, in San Bernabe", and 
 that right soon, or all the men, women, and 
 children will go over to this American religion." 
 
 "All?" exclaimed the priest, in mocking sur- 
 prise. " Do you mean to say that you will not 
 long be able to resist the charms of this young 
 lady ? You said she was young, I believe." 
 
 ' ' For shame, Esteban, to speak thus to me, who 
 am as firm a son of the church as there is in the 
 whole republic. I know your love of jesting, sir, 
 for I have long known you ; but this levity now 
 proves that you do not understand just how great 
 has been the change in the ranch since you left 
 last year." 
 
 " Forgive me, my friend," returned the priest, 
 quickly, and hastening to erase the impression his 
 words had given; "and I think I understand, per- 
 haps even better than you, the danger of the 
 influence of such a person as this senorita. She 
 will turn the heads at least, of the women, as well 
 as the men, with her dainty ways and pretty 
 speech, and their hearts will not be slow to follow. 
 As you say, there must be a stop put to it ; but we 
 will not be hasty ; you must leave me to think it 
 out for a while. Now you are fatigued with your 
 journey and must go to rest. In the morning I 
 shall tell you my conclusions." Both arose at 
 these words, and the priest opened the door
 
 230 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 of a small room next to the one they were occu- 
 pying. 
 
 "Here, my friend," he continued, "this is 
 your room. May you sleep well, and dreams of 
 peace be with you." 
 
 Father Esteban sat long in deep thought after 
 ushering his visitor into the bed-chamber, and his 
 brow was still somewhat perplexed when he ex- 
 tinguished the light and lay down upon his own 
 bed two hours later ; his thin lips, however, were 
 firmly compressed, and his cheek a little paler 
 than usual, as he settled his head upon his pillow 
 for sleep. There was more talk the next day 
 between the priest and his guest, and at five 
 o'clock in the afternoon, on the day when Mary 
 Summers took her first walk abroad in La Provi- 
 dencia, both went to the church of San Antonio, 
 where the priest was to confer with one or two 
 higher dignitaries upon the situation at San Ber- 
 nabe" and to receive their sanction to his plans. 
 As they were ascending the steps of the entrance 
 neither noticed Jose", as he was only one among a 
 score of other young men standing there, and 
 they continued their low-toned conversation as 
 they passed into the church. 
 
 " As the sefiorita Americana is here, and as she 
 is intending to remain some time," the priest was 
 saying, " it will be best for me to return with you 
 to-morrow to San Bernabe'. I know our people, 
 and you know them also. If things have not gone
 
 THE PRIEST AND THE SCHOOLMASTER. 23! 
 
 too far, already ." Here, in entering the 
 
 church, they were separated from Jose" for an 
 instant by a party leaving the building, and when 
 he next caught their whispered words they were 
 already kneeling before the altar. " If I had only 
 known that the lady was here all this time," Padre 
 Esteban murmured, "I would have had a whole 
 week at the ranch free from her presence and that 
 of Jose. Where can the fellow have kept himself 
 all this time, that I have not seen him? " 
 
 " Where the rest of the world kept itself during 
 the tempest ; where the Padre Esteban must have 
 kept himself, evidently," replied Gregorio, grimly, 
 " safe and dry in the house." 
 
 " Ah, yes," replied the other. "What a clear 
 head you have, maestro ; but joking aside, now 
 that the weather has cleared, Jose" will be get- 
 ting back to the ranch. You say that old 
 Ignacio's servant thinks that the lady will remain 
 until the girl Angela is well again?" 
 
 1 ' Yes ; so she told me this morning when I met 
 her in the market. ' ' 
 
 "Very good. Then we set out to-morrow at 
 five in the morning, and by early afternoon we 
 shall be at the ranch. You will go on quietly 
 to your own house, for we shall not enter the ranch 
 together, as I shall make a detour around by El 
 Porvenir, and no one will know that you have 
 seen me and made any report of the chapel affair. 
 I shall arrive a little later, and as usual shall go to
 
 232 A MEXICAN .RANCH. 
 
 old Vera's house. By bedtime I shall have a fair 
 idea of the state of things in that household, you 
 may be sure, and on the next day I shall act 
 accordingly. I tell you this now, because it will 
 be best for iis to be no longer seen together in 
 town, as Jose may get an inkling of our plan and 
 return to San Bernabe"." 
 
 "Thanks for the suggestion," muttered Jose", 
 behind his cloak. " By the time you are passing 
 Devil's Gate to-morrow morning, I shall be gal- 
 loping over the prairie, and when you walk into 
 my father's house in the 'early afternoon,' you 
 will find me ready to receive you." 
 
 Here the conversation was interrupted by 
 another suppliant at the altar, and Jose* left the 
 church. 
 
 "You will still find those who are faithful, 
 Esteban, and your welcome will be warm in other 
 houses if not in that of Eduardo Vera. Old Juana 
 hates the young maestro., and the young lady 
 knows it, for she has been frightened several 
 times by the old woman's threats." Both were 
 walking now up the nave. 
 
 " Threats ! " exclaimed the priest, severely ; 
 " what right has Juana to threaten, and what has 
 she been threatening? " 
 
 " Only out of her own crazy imaginings ; you 
 know she pretends to be a prophetess, and Dona 
 Rosa urges her on. They both abhor the new 
 doctrine ! "
 
 THE PRIEST AND THE SCHOOLMASTER. 233 
 
 " New ! " sighed the priest, piously. " Oh, that 
 it were new, or that it had been strangled in its 
 birth ! Do you know, Don Gregorio, how these 
 false teachings are spreading all over the repub- 
 lic? The cursed Protestants are building 
 churches now in the cities, being no longer con- 
 tent with chapels of adobe, and hundreds attend 
 the services where mere handfuls dared go in 
 your youth. Their colleges for girls, as well as 
 those for boys, are better than anything we have, 
 and accomplished teachers are brought over from 
 the States to direct them. Ah, my friend, when 
 you were young and strong, and this Protestant 
 hydra was young and weak, why did you not 
 grasp its throat and choke it to death ? " asked 
 the younger man, half playfully. 
 
 Ah, Esteban mio" retorted the schoolmaster, 
 " if men had been so zealous in my younger days 
 as they are now, as you are, there might have 
 been hope of such a thing ! But," he continued 
 sternly, " of what avail this chaffing? You are 
 as much in earnest as I am, yet you will have 
 your jest. Come, now, you are young, and the 
 hydra, as you call it, is yet young and feeble 
 in San Bernabe". Esteban, I lay it upon you to 
 stamp it out of existence, to crush it forever, do 
 you hear ? As yet those who are undecided are 
 only bewitched by Miss Summers' beauty and her 
 eloquence, while those who have already joined 
 the Baptists, although firm enough, I confess, are
 
 234 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 but few, not more than forty, I should think. 
 You will go to the ranch to-niorrow, and by 
 noon the next day the old walls of the chapel 
 will be demolished, and new ones begun. You 
 will remain there till the roof is on, if necessary, 
 and before another spring we shall celebrate mass 
 in our own chapel of Our Lady of Solitude ! " 
 
 They were standing in a small side chapel 
 devoted to this very lady, and the man's face was 
 flushed with enthusiasm and his voice trembled 
 with emotion. 
 
 " Stamp it out ! Crush it to death!' 1 ' 1 he con- 
 tinued, muttering to himself, and his voice was 
 the voice of a fanatic. 
 
 The priest was pale and his dark eyes also 
 flashed. 
 
 "We will separate, maestro" he said, extend- 
 ing his hand to the teacher. "I have arranged 
 for you at the hotel where they will give you a 
 good room. At five to-morrow morning I shall 
 join you at the door. It will still be dark and no 
 one will see us as we ride through the street. 
 Once out of town, Jose" will hear nothing of us 
 and will probably remain here." 
 
 They parted, and the priest went farther into 
 one of the inner, secret rooms to confer with 
 those who had been awaiting him there several 
 moments, while Don Gregorio Nunez prostrated 
 himself before the Lady of Solitude. 
 
 And San Bernabe", the unconscious magnet of
 
 THE PRIEST AND THE SCHOOLMASTER. 235 
 
 four fast-beating hearts, lay quietly resting on the 
 bosom of the great plain, shadowed by the purple 
 mountains. As this first sunshiny day after two 
 weeks of rain came to an end, and the sun sank 
 below the horizon, Raquel was sitting just outside 
 the kitchen door, while within Petra was prepar- 
 ing for supper. 
 
 " Petra," said the step-mother, gently, "I wish 
 our Mariquita would come home." 
 
 "Why, mother?" asked the younger woman, 
 coming to the door with a handful of the soft 
 meal-dough in her hand. "I think she must 
 enjoy being in the town, now that Angela is 
 better. We heard last night, you know, that she 
 is doing well." 
 
 " I am not thinking so much of Maria just now 
 as of ourselves. For several nights the old, terri- 
 ble dream has returned, and I have waked feeling 
 as I used to do when we had loaned our picture 
 of the Holy Family to some dying person in the 
 ranch, as if, with the saints gone, we were not 
 quite safe from harm. With Mariquita so far 
 away, I have a feeling of dread that I cannot 
 understand, especially when I wake in the night." 
 
 " Mariquita herself would tell you that that is 
 all foolish superstition, mamma," returned Petra. 
 " However," she sighed, " I too shall be glad 
 enough to have her at home again. And so will 
 Refugio, I know," she continued, glancing at the 
 gateway, where the girl stood gazing up the road
 
 236 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 as if watching for some one. " The child is grow- 
 ing thin and seems to have forgotten how to laugh 
 since the senorita went away. But, after all, 
 mamma dear, there is no 'harm that can befall us 
 if we trust in God, and he is still with us as well 
 as with Mariquita in L,a Providencia. ' '
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 JOSE MAKES A DECISION. 
 
 Slowly and steadily, to and fro, 
 
 Swings our life in its weary way; 
 Now at its ebb, and now at its flow, 
 
 And " the evening and the morning make the day." 
 
 Sorrow and happiness, peace and strife, 
 
 Fear and rejoicing its moments know, 
 Yet from the discords of such a life 
 
 Can the clear music of heaven flow. 
 
 WHEN Jose left his uncle's home the next morn- 
 ing the clock in the church tower had just 
 struck two, and the house was still and dark. He 
 had taken leave of the family the night before, 
 and saw no one as he went away but the old ser- 
 vant, Filipa, who had risen to lock the door after 
 him. 
 
 His heart was sore and heavy as he rode down 
 the street to join his boy Antonio at the inn, where 
 the other horses had been stabled. Antonio had 
 been glad to find there a ranchman passing through 
 
 the country on foot on his way to S , who was 
 
 willing to ride the free horse as far as San Ber- 
 nabe", and Jose's consent having been obtained, the 
 three men, shivering in their blankets, were soon 
 
 237
 
 238 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 clattering down the steep paved way leading from 
 the inn out upon the road to the river. 
 
 The morning air was very chill, and a heavy 
 mist hung over the river, enveloping the riders in 
 its wet folds and penetrating through their heavy 
 coverings. 
 
 Jose rode before his companions and congratu- 
 lated himself on being three hours ahead of the 
 priest and Don Gregorio, who would not start 
 from the hotel before five o'clock. He was not 
 thinking so much of them, however, as of Mary 
 Summers, who was still quietly sleeping in her 
 little white room at Ignacio Vera's, for Angela was 
 so much better now that her nurse could leave her 
 to her mother during the night. He knew that 
 no bodily harm could come to Mary in La Provi- 
 dencia, but he feared the result of old Filipa's 
 garrulity among her cronies in the market-place. 
 La Providencia was an exceedingly fanatical town, 
 and though several attempts had been made at 
 different times to establish some form of evangeli- 
 cal work there, these schemes had been invariably 
 thwarted by the vigilance of the priesthood, and 
 La Providencia, as a site for missionary opera- 
 tions, had been finally abandoned for other more 
 favorable openings. 
 
 So far as Jose" had ever heard, there was not one 
 Protestant in the town, and he had attempted to 
 exact from Mary the promise that she would not 
 walk out during the remaining days of her stay
 
 JOSI5 MAKES A DECISION. 239 
 
 there in order to shield her from the insults and 
 disagreeable encounters which would be hers, if 
 she should become known as an evangelistic 
 teacher. He was sure that Father Esteban would 
 not leave her movements unwatched, and there 
 were many in the town who would become inter- 
 ested in her comings and goings, for Esteban was 
 but one among a numerous band of priests sta- 
 tioned there. Jose" knew that he could trust much 
 to Miss Summers' own prudence however, and 'con- 
 soled himself with the recollection of the tact and 
 wisdom with which she was wont to deal with 
 the difficulties in her way, during her life on the 
 ranch. He surmised also that her unwillingness 
 to accede to his request the day before was very 
 probably due to a feeling on her part that he was 
 taking too much upon himself in presuming to 
 dictate to her on such a subject 
 
 "And not knowing all that I knew, she would 
 have had reason to think so," he said to himself; 
 "but I wished to spare her the uneasiness of 
 knowing that she was being discussed by such 
 men as Don Gregorio and the padre. After all, 
 she is to be in La Providencia but two or three 
 days longer, and Angela will not spare her often. 
 Poor Angela," he thought, remorsefully; "poor, 
 pretty little Angela ! I wonder if Daniel settled 
 their engagement when he was here. How glad 
 I am that she has learned to love him, for I 
 could not marry her now ! "
 
 240 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 As they approached Devil's Gate the horses 
 hesitated and backed away from the cold, swift 
 river which they could not see for the mist 
 shrouding the banks. Jose's heart beat furiously 
 as he urged his horse into the water, and the rec- 
 ollection of that other night, when he had last 
 passed through the gate, took away all thought 
 of the present moment. The water, however, had 
 fallen considerably, and there was no difficulty in 
 fording now, so that they were not long in reach- 
 ing the hard road again at the other end of the 
 pass between the cliffs. 
 
 On they traveled through the mist along the river- 
 bank, the two companions in the rear too cold and 
 sleepy for conversation, and Jose", on his big gray 
 horse, very wide-awake and full of thought. As 
 it had ceased raining twenty-four hours before, the 
 road, which sloped toward the river-bank, was 
 fairly good, and drained off the water which had 
 stood in pools ten days before. As they ascended 
 the rocky road leading up from the river, usher- 
 ing them into the dim defile over the long crest 
 of the hill, they left the river mist behind, and the 
 air grew milder in the shelter of the pines. 
 
 Jor.e" turned his face toward the sky, and foiind 
 that it was beautifully clear, with the bright 
 winter stars sparkling through the blue. It was 
 now about four o'clock, and there was no sign as 
 yet that day would ever break again over those 
 sombre mountain heights. There was the moist,
 
 JOSE MAKES A DECISION. 341 
 
 sweet odor from the woods around, but not a sound 
 broke the absolute silence save the tread of the 
 horses' feet. 
 
 Every step was full of memories for Jose of those 
 short, sweet hours when he had ridden there by 
 Miss Summers' side, when, whether she spoke or 
 not, the air had seemed filled with her presence. 
 He was only a simple Mexican youth, far younger 
 in some experiences than many a lad of eighteen 
 in our enlightened country younger even than 
 his nephew, Captain Daniel, in many things. In 
 his veins ran Indian as well as Spanish blood, and 
 his education in books had so far been very meagre. 
 
 Long ago, ever since Mary had come into the 
 little ranch-world, he himself had realized all this, 
 and in his humility had always thought of her as 
 a being different from himself, who must be con- 
 sidered quite apart from all other mortals, and he 
 had never dared confess to himself what he had 
 been forced to acknowledge to his nephew, Daniel, 
 as they had walked together in the moonlight. 
 Nothing had been farther from his thoughts than 
 any intention of divulging his state of mind to 
 the lady herself, and he shivered now with horror 
 and dismay, as he recalled the passionate words 
 he had spoken on rescuing her from the water. 
 
 Why could he not have kept silence, as he had 
 so long done through so many months of mingled 
 joy and pain ? Why must the old life of happy 
 watching for her fair, sweet face, as she passed 
 
 Q
 
 242 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 him on her way to school, or listening to her 
 voice talking in the court to Petra, or leading the 
 songs of the little ones, be at an end ? It seemed 
 to him as he rode slowly now, in the bewildering 
 half-light which was softly creeping over the 
 woods, that nothing could ever be the same again. 
 He seemed to have betrayed the loved senorita, as 
 well as himself, in his hasty words of relief and 
 gladness as he had seen her eyes open again to 
 the world, and had heard her voice calling his 
 name. He would go on living, of course, and he 
 would study his music and English just the same, 
 for the senorita was kind and would be no differ- 
 ent with him, but he was afraid of himself now, 
 and could never again be so sure of his self-control 
 as before. " She has already forgotten it all," he 
 muttered to himself. " Such words as mine from 
 a lowly-born Mexican to her, an angel of beauty 
 and of goodness, are nothing more than this little 
 mist down here is to the blue sky there where the 
 stars are shining. Everybody loves her ; she is 
 used to that, and she does not understand that my 
 love is different, that I would die for her to spare 
 her a moment of grief or pain ! " 
 
 As the little party neared the inn where they 
 had taken dinner on the former journey, Antonio 
 spurred his horse to Josh's side and asked if he 
 wished to stop there for breakfast. 
 
 "No," Jose* replied, "we will stop a little this 
 side of the house, as I do not care to be talked to
 
 JOSE MAKES A DECISION. 343 
 
 by the men and women there. Besides, it is early 
 and there will be nothing prepared for us. You 
 have a sack of food for the horses, as I told you, 
 have you not ? ' ' 
 
 " Yes, senor," the servant answered. 
 
 " Well, stop here and feed them. We will get 
 to San Bernabe in time for breakfast at seven 
 o'clock, but if you and your friend are hungry, 
 here is bread and cheese," throwing across to the 
 boy a package which his Aunt Isabel had slipped 
 into his saddle-bags the night before. " Eat it all, 
 I want nothing. And Antonio," he added, as he 
 dismounted, " after breathing the horses a little 
 and feeding them, follow me. I shall walk on 
 until you overtake me. When you reach the 
 path turning off from this road a little farther on 
 to the right, turn into that path. It will bring us 
 out on the prairie at some distance from the inn. 
 You will find me in that path. And do not stop 
 longer than ten minutes. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, senor," the boy repeated; "but Don 
 Jose, do you not know that the path is much 
 longer than the road and that it is very steep and 
 rocky ? " 
 
 " Yes, I know that," returned his master, briefly. 
 
 He did not wish to pass the inn where Father 
 Esteban and Don Gregorio would stop for refresh- 
 ment a few hours later, but not thinking it neces- 
 sary to explain his motive to the boy, he set out 
 on foot down the narrow path, and here his
 
 244 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 thoughts recurred to the purpose of the priest's 
 early visit to San Bernabe. He could determine 
 upon no action beyond that of warning his father 
 and mother of the fact of the visit, until he should 
 know something more of the man's plans. He 
 was sure that Father Esteban would be wary and 
 slow to bring about an open rupture with the 
 Vera family, and he himself proposed to keep his 
 eyes open and to let none of the Jesuit's move- 
 ments escape him. 
 
 Before long he was joined by his attendants and 
 remounted his horse just as the path led down the 
 last declivity and out upon the open stretch of 
 prairie. Here the horses felt themselves at home, 
 and picking up their ears responded eagerly to the 
 touch of the spur that sent them galloping toward 
 San Bernabe". 
 
 Now the eastern sky was golden, and a strange 
 yellow light lay over the plain. The mountains 
 rose black and somber against the bright heavens 
 sweeping beyond their dark outlines, and the 
 prairie dogs were beginning to peep out of their 
 burrows and bark friendly good-mornings to their 
 next-door neighbors. 
 
 The exchange from the damp gloom of the 
 shadowy woods to the brightening prairie land 
 gave a healthier tinge to Josh's thoughts as his 
 horse sped over the level road, and something 
 like hope revived in his breast. 
 
 "Whatever happens," he said half-aloud,
 
 JOSE MAKES A DECISION. 245 
 
 through his clenched teeth, " nothing shall touch 
 her. Never again shall I speak to her as I did 
 that night ; nevertheless, I shall guard her, just as 
 if I had a greater right to do so. She shall see no 
 difference in me, for I shall learn to bear it better 
 after a little, and I could not grieve her ! ' ' 
 
 He heard the two other horses quickening their 
 steps behind, and before he could turn to see the 
 cause of their haste, Antonio was riding at his 
 side, and the stranger just behind. 
 
 "Don Jose," said the boy, "Pedro here has 
 been telling me something that they were saying 
 in the inn last night, while I was out with the 
 horses. Is it true, senor, that you are a Protestant, 
 and that you are going to be baptized very soon ? " 
 The boy's manner was very eager, as he looked at 
 his companion for confirmation of his report. 
 
 " Let me hear all that Pedro heard said," Jose* 
 replied, looking around and motioning the man to 
 approach. ' ' What is it now, friend, that they 
 say of me ?" 
 
 " Why, senor, it was only what the boy has said, 
 and I am sure I did not mean for him to tell it to 
 you right away. As he says, he had gone out to 
 feed the horses, and as he crossed the court where 
 several of us were sitting, some one said, ' There 
 goes the servant of that cursed Protestant ! ' 
 Everybody exclaimed then, and asked him what 
 he meant, and he said that you were the son of 
 the richest man anywhere about, and that your
 
 246 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 father was already a Protestant, while your mother 
 was noted for her zeal as a Romanist, and that he 
 had heard it said in the market that morning that 
 you had followed your father, and would soon join 
 the Evangelicals. He also said " 
 
 " What?" demanded Jose", sharply. 
 
 " That you had better not be around L,a Provi- 
 dencia much, just now, as the padres had known 
 how to make away with ' the followers of the 
 cursed religion ' those were his words, sir before 
 now. I am glad you did not stay, serior, if you 
 are what the man thought," concluded Pedro, 
 looking slyly at Jose", from under the wide brim 
 of his hat. 
 
 "But are you a Protestant, seiior ?" persisted 
 Antonio, with the familiarity of a favored servant. 
 
 Jose* had but a moment to prepare his reply to 
 this question. Why should he hesitate to express 
 himself now ? Because in an hour it would be 
 spread by An f onio all over San Bernabe*, and in 
 whatever ranch the fellow Pedro should choose to 
 carry the news. He might bind them both over 
 to silence for a while but why ? It might be 
 necessary this very day to take his stand before 
 his family and the priest, and there was no doubt 
 in his mind as to what his course would be then. 
 
 " Yes, I am a Protestant," he replied at length, 
 firmly, while the above reasoning surged through 
 his brain. 
 
 Nothing more was said on either side. An-
 
 JOs MAKES A DECISION. 247 
 
 tonio's face fell as he drew back silently to join 
 the man Pedro, who in his turn rode on, with his 
 jaw dropped and his eyes fixed on the back of the 
 strange being who had just declared himself one 
 of the "cursed sect." 
 
 Jose turned his face to the sun, which was just 
 appearing above the mountain peak, and a light 
 which was not all of the sun, broke over his 
 contenance. 
 
 " Now I shall live ! " was his thought. " The 
 Son of God shall be my master, and I shall be 
 his servant, and live in doing his will. God help 
 me ! " And this was the second prayer of Josh's 
 life. 
 
 Meanwhile the priest and the schoolmaster were 
 just entering the river pass, and Padre Esteban 
 was idly wondering whose could be the fresh 
 tracks in the black mud along the water's edge.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE PRIEST BAFFLED. 
 
 To those that are his, all things are not only easy to be borne, but 
 even to be chosen. Their will is united to that Will which moves 
 heaven and earth, which gives laws to angels, and rules the courses 
 of the world. Manning. 
 
 THE schoolmaster's mule had not long finished 
 his dinner that same day in the little, thatched 
 shed at home, when Padre Esteban rode sedately, 
 as became a man of his holy calling, into San 
 Bernabe*. The ranch seemed very peaceful and 
 quiet, basking in the afternoon sunlight, and here 
 and there little family groups were collected about 
 the house doors enjoying- the change to blue skies 
 and sunshine after the wet, gray weather of the 
 past fortnight. Many a surprised look and hur- 
 ried word or gesture of welcome, greeted the priest, 
 as he slowly walked his horse past these groups of 
 his parishioners. As he rounded the corner of a 
 wall to turn into Eduardo Vera's court, he saw the 
 figure of an old woman at a distance in front fran- 
 tically beckoning to him, but he only smiled 
 blandly, and greeting her with a wave of his hand, 
 passed on to the great gates which stood hospit- 
 ably open. He saw no one as he paused just out- 
 248
 
 Jos*. 
 
 Page 249.
 
 THE PRIEST BAFFLED. 249 
 
 side, and about the court and house there seemed 
 an unusual stillness. The sunlight flooded the 
 court-yard, and intensified the vivid colors of the 
 flowers in the little garden-plot by the well, while 
 the heat brought out the odor of the fennel grow- 
 ing luxuriantly in a border. The court had been 
 freshly swept and sprinkled, for in Mexico a day's 
 sunshine undoes much of the work of days of rain. 
 All of the house was closed except the double 
 doors of the sala, and these were thrown wide 
 open, showing that the house was not entirely 
 deserted. 
 
 If the priest had stopped to hear what old Juana 
 had been so eager to tell him, as she .signaled to 
 him in the road, he would have learned that Jose 
 was at home, having arrived from the town that 
 morning. As he raised his hand to knock at the 
 gate, some one left the sala and came toward him 
 across the court, and his amazed eyes told him 
 that this was the young man whom he had con- 
 sidered safe in L,a Providencia, thirty miles away. 
 
 Jose" was carefully dressed, and he carried in his 
 hand a book which he had been reading. Perhaps, 
 below the surface, he was not so cool and uncon- 
 cerned as his outward manner indicated. He met 
 the priest with the grave courtesy becoming a son 
 of the house, at whose doors no guest was received 
 otherwise than hospitably, and his blue eyes were 
 very bright and his face was pale, as he invited 
 the priest to dismount.
 
 250 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 " You are here," gasped the priest, in his first 
 surprise, as Jose laid his hand upon the bridle of 
 the horse, and signalled to Antonio who ap- 
 proached the gates from the outside. For a 
 moment his self-command had forsaken him. 
 
 " Yes, sefior," Jose replied, " I arrived this morn- 
 ing only a few hours ago." 
 
 "And I have traveled all day alone. We might 
 have been traveling companions, friend Jose," 
 rejoined the other, recovering himself, "if each 
 had only known the other's plans. As I passed 
 through the village of La Coucordia, some one 
 told me that a horseman, resembling one of the 
 Vera lads, had galloped through that morning 
 early, and had stopped to speak with no one. I 
 
 presume you have been paying a visit in S , 
 
 whence I come." 
 
 " Senor," returned Jose, sternly, fixing his pene- 
 trating blue eyes upon his companion's clean- 
 shaven visage, u I came from La Providencia. I 
 left that town just three hours before " " your- 
 self," he was about to say, but the time was not 
 yet come for discussion "before daybreak," he 
 concluded. 
 
 "Ah," replied the priest, his own gaze falling 
 before that of Jose", " then it was a mistake about 
 your riding through La Concordia. I am glad, 
 my son, that I find you at home, for there will be 
 many things to speak of in connection with the 
 dedication of the new chapel. Of course, I did
 
 THE PRIEST BAFFLED. 25! 
 
 not expect to find it completed, coming, as I have 
 done, so much in advance of the time of my last 
 year's visit," he added, amicably. 
 
 They entered the sala, where the air-was chill 
 and damp, and the priest shivered at the exceeding 
 stiffness and lack of warmth which he seemed to 
 find in his reception, notwithstanding Jose's grave 
 politeness. Where was Raquel, where was Petra, 
 and the harmless old Baptist, Don Eduardo ? 
 
 " My mother and sister have gone to visit my 
 cousin, Martina Vera," remarked Jose, as if in 
 answer to the padre's unspoken question. " They 
 will not be long, I am sure, and my father has 
 ridden over to El Porvenir with Benjamin. Shall 
 we take onr chairs into the court?" he added, 
 noticing the priest's involuntary shiver at the 
 chill aspect of the house. " In the sun it is quite 
 warm." 
 
 And there in the sun they conversed upon all 
 manner of indifferent subjects, until Jose began an 
 account of little Juan's illness and death. Este- 
 ban listened attentively to this, and watched Jose* 
 furtively from beneath his downcast eyelids. Jose 
 was speaking merely to pass the time, being quite 
 assured that Don Gregorio had already told the 
 whole story to the priest, as was indeed the truth, 
 although Esteban's carefully chosen replies did 
 not betray it. 
 
 " Old Juana nursed the boy, you say," said the 
 latter. "What a pity it was that this young
 
 252 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 American lady who, they say, is equal to any 
 doctor could not have cared for him.. He might 
 then have been spared to his mother, poor 
 woman ! u 
 
 " Yes," assented Jose", wincing inwardly at this 
 careless mention of Miss Summers by the man 
 who was growing to be hateful to him. "It is 
 true that he might have been saved, as my Cousin 
 Angela has been." 
 
 "And is it true, Jose", all that they say of the 
 little American, that she is as beautiful as she is 
 wise and as good as she is beautiful ? I hope," he 
 continued, without waiting for an answer, " that I 
 shall be so fortunate as to make her acquaintance 
 while here. I hear that she is under your roof. 
 Perhaps I shall meet her to-night. I know that 
 these Americans are very willing to be thrown with 
 us and to discuss the differences in our beliefs. 
 And it would be worth a little of apparent sacrifice 
 of one's own opinions to find favor in the eyes of 
 a lovely young lady, eh, Jose* ? ' ' 
 
 " I do not agree with you, sefior," replied Jose", 
 gravely and briefly. He was determined not to 
 lose his temper with this man. 
 
 " I suppose she is out on some mission of charity 
 just now, this young missionary. Am I right, 
 Jose*?" 
 
 " Yes, sefior," replied Jose" ; " she is at present in 
 La Providencia, nursing our Angela, who is ill of 
 small-pox. Ah ! here comes my nephew Daniel,"
 
 THE PRIEST BAFFLED. 253 
 
 as the young captain came across the court, his 
 sword clanking at every step. 
 
 Jose was anxious not to lose sight of his guest 
 during that first afternoon, so he seated himself 
 again, after bringing out a chair for his nephew. 
 After greetings between the captain and the priest, 
 the former turned to Jose and asked : 
 
 " What news of Angela, Jose ? I wished to see 
 you before now, but my mother can scarcely bear 
 me out of her sight, as I shall leave to-morrow or 
 next day, and she kept rne a prisoner all the morn- 
 ing. What of my cousin's health ? " 
 
 "Angelita is better, Daniel, and will recover 
 now. But what is this you are saying of going 
 back to the city ? I thought you had secured a 
 renewal of your leave of absence." 
 
 " Yes, that is true. I do not mean, however, to 
 spend all my vacation in this stupid place. I shall 
 
 return to S . There are to be grand doings 
 
 there, I hear, padre, on the day of our lady." 
 
 " Yes, all of the faithful will do honor to our 
 lady on that day, captain, more in the city, of 
 course, than in a place like our ranch here," re- 
 plied the priest. " Still, " he continued, " we shall 
 do what we can, even here, to make the day pleas- 
 ant for the people, is it not so, Jose" ? " 
 
 " You know that I never take part in any of the 
 religious feasts, senor," replied Jose. 
 
 "All I care for," interposed Daniel, "is to stand 
 at the cathedral doors and watch the pretty senor-
 
 254 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 itas going and coming, with, the prayers on their 
 lips and coquetry in their eyes ; eh, padre mio? " 
 
 The padre smiled and held up a reproving fore- 
 finger, playfully saying, ' ' Oh, you are heathen, 
 you two ! " 
 
 "But come now, Padre Esteban, confess to us 
 two heathen, you who are father confessor to so 
 many girls, which please you most, the pretty 
 little creatures or the ugly ones ? ' ' This was from 
 Daniel. 
 
 " I, seiior capitan, am a priest of God. I look 
 at the hearts which are laid bare in the confes- 
 sional and not at the faces. Be careful, my son, 
 and do not impute such worldly thoughts to 
 one who, though unworthy, is one of Christ's 
 vicars." 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense ! " exclaimed Daniel, with 
 his harsh laugh. "You are still a man, neverthe- 
 less, and a young one, and you need not tell me 
 that your material eyes see no difference between 
 a pretty and an ugly face, whatever your spiritual 
 eyes, if a man has any such, may see. Ha ! ha ! 
 Why our Angela told me, when she returned home 
 from her last confession to you " 
 
 " Have done, Daniel ! " commanded Jose* now, 
 with his face on fire. " Shame on you, sir, to 
 jest about your own cousin with a stranger ! " 
 
 " A stranger, am I?" thought the priest to 
 himself. " Ah, there has been some change here ; 
 more than I thought. Come, courage, I must go
 
 THE PRIEST BAFFLED. 255 
 
 to the bottom of this matter, and understand what 
 he means." 
 
 " That is right, Jose mio" he commented, aloud. 
 " Never let the affairs of the family be discussed 
 in public. But I am really hurt, my son, that you 
 should consider me a stranger, and speak of the 
 confessor of your family as such. What have I 
 done to merit this ? ' ' 
 
 " I do not know that you have changed, sefior," 
 replied Jose, gravely. The priest noticed that the 
 word " padre " had not once left his lips ; it was 
 always sefior. " I have remarked no change at 
 all in you." 
 
 "I was hoping," the priest proceeded, "that I 
 should be able to prevail on you during this visit 
 to come to confession. And I have heard," he 
 added, tentatively, " of the probable betrothal be- 
 tween you and your cousin, Angela Vera. What 
 more fitting- than at such a time, so interesting and 
 full of tenderness, to put yourself right with the 
 church by means of the confession and the holy 
 communion ? Even I, however much a stranger, 
 may be permitted to suggest this." 
 
 Jose" allowed the man to finish what he had to 
 say, and then replied, while Daniel sat by, silenced 
 and curious : 
 
 " It is with God himself that I wish always 
 to put myself right, sefior, and that will be 
 done without confession to a man, who is not 
 unlike all other men in liability to be tempted
 
 256 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 and to fall. ' The church ' need not interfere in 
 a matter between me and iny God alone. Besides, 
 you make a mistake about a betrothal between 
 my cousin and myself. Such a thing has never 
 been spoken of." Jose could not add, " nor 
 thought of," for he knew in his inmost soul, that 
 Angela had thought of it, at least before the 
 coming of the brilliant young captain, and that 
 he himself had dwelt not discontentedly, though 
 secretly, upon the same idea some six months 
 before. But, as he said, nothing had been defi- 
 nitely settled, and he had only gravely admired 
 Angela's pretty airs and coquetry, without ever 
 caring to wonder whether he would like them 
 as well in a wife. Here Jose looked searchingly 
 at Daniel, who seemed somewhat embarrassed by 
 the look. 
 
 " Yes, I know," the priest replied, ignoring 
 Jose*'s last statement as one not to be discussed in 
 the presence of a third party. " Your feeling is 
 only natural about the confession. It is easier for 
 the women to avail themselves of the privilege 
 than for us men, who have broader ideas and 
 higher conceptions of what is due to ourselves. 
 Their sins are only those of their little every-day 
 lives, but they weigh so heavily on their more 
 tender consciences that they eagerly embrace the 
 opportunity of unburdening themselves to a sym- 
 pathizing confessor. Now, we men," including 
 both Daniel and Jose" in his gracious glance,
 
 THE PRIEST BAFFLED. 357 
 
 " when we sin, go deeper than the women, and our 
 very natures impel us to secrecy when we have 
 gone wrong. We are as strong in living down 
 our crimes in silence as in committing them." 
 
 This peroration delivered, the priest fixed his 
 eyes in seemingly deep thought upon the ground 
 at his feet while his companions, each in his own 
 way, formed his opinion of the man. 
 
 "Whew ! " thought the admiring little captain, 
 "one would be almost willing to be a priest if 
 one could learn to be as eloquent as this Padre 
 Bsteban. He must be a model father confessor, 
 with his knowledge of human nature and his 
 sympathy with its weakness. I shall leave all 
 the year's sins with him to-morrow, and much 
 good may they do him ! " smiling lightly. 
 
 ' ' This man could never commit a crime him- 
 self," Jose* decided ; "but he would not hesitate 
 to persuade others to do so. What a deceitful 
 coward he is ! " 
 
 Both young men were spared an audible expres- 
 sion of the impression made by the padre's views, 
 however, for at this moment the rest of the family 
 entered the court and the subject of confession was 
 dropped amid the greetings of the host and hostess. 
 With the same studied politeness which Jose had 
 shown, the young priest was welcomed by the elder 
 members of the family ; but he noticed that no one 
 offered to kiss his plump, white hand as usual ; 
 only little Benjamin was the same, and the child
 
 258 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 began immediately to search the pockets of the 
 priest's long black coat for the sweetmeats he had 
 always found there heretofore. In the hurried 
 departure from L,a Providencia, however, Esteban 
 had forgotten to provide himself with the usual 
 dainties, and the spoiled little boy, on making the 
 discovery that the pockets were empty, tore him- 
 self from the priest's encircling arms and stood 
 defiantly at Jose's knee, declaring : 
 
 "You are bad, senor padre, and I do not love 
 you any more. Now I shall never be a priest, for 
 priests tell lies. You promised me an orange and 
 some dried figs and you have brought me nothing 
 at all. I do not love you ! " and he stamped his 
 small foot in anger, while tears of disappointment 
 filled his eyes. 
 
 "Never mind, little brother," whispered Jose", 
 drawing the boy to his knee. ' ' Perhaps there 
 were no oranges and figs where the senor comes 
 from, but I have brought you something from La 
 Providencia. Run now and bring me the saddle- 
 bags from my room." 
 
 Benjamin was soon comforted with the nuts 
 found in Jose's bags and took no further notice 
 of the discomfited priest. 
 
 After supper all felt that the time had come 
 when an understanding must be brought about, 
 even at the risk of an open rupture, for anything 
 was better than this formal display of friendliness. 
 
 So, when Daniel declared himself charged with
 
 THE PRIEST BAFFLED. 359 
 
 a message from his mother, Dona Rosa, to the 
 priest, to the effect that he should come and sit 
 with her till bedtime, Jose interposed and re- 
 minded the priest of his expressed wish to talk of 
 certain matters of business. The latter therefore, 
 sent a polite message of regret to Dona Rosa and 
 promised to see her later in the evening. Daniel, 
 divining that his company was not especially 
 desired, took himself off, and the door of the sala 
 had scarcely closed upon him when the priest 
 began, in his ready way : 
 
 "We have had no time yet, senora, to speak of 
 the subject most interesting to me now, and no 
 doubt to you also and to your family. I refer to 
 the new chapel of Our L,ady of Solitude, which 
 seems nearly ready for use. ' ' 
 
 He paused a moment, but as no one offered to 
 speak, he continued : " I have hastened my jour- 
 ney hither, thinking that my presence among the 
 workmen might stimulate them to greater efforts 
 to complete the building so that it may be dedi- 
 cated by the new year. Was I right? " he asked, 
 looking from one to the other of his audience. 
 Jose was about to reply, when Raquel, mak- 
 ing him a sign to be silent, replied, with quiet 
 dignity : 
 
 "Serior Esteban Lopez has as much right as 
 any one to come to San Bernabe whenever he 
 wishes to do so. He has never been opposed in 
 his coming in the past, nor will -he be in the
 
 260 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 future. As far as the building of the chapel is 
 concerned, that is at an end, sefior." 
 
 Father Esteban tried to look very much aston- 
 ished at this news, but Josh's keen, blue eyes were 
 upon him, and he felt at greater disadvantage 
 than at any previous time in his rather successful 
 clerical life. He was determined to carry this 
 affair through with patience and skill, however, 
 for the higher powers in La Providencia, had ex- 
 pressed themselves as entirely satisfied with his 
 promise to manage the Vera affair with wisdom 
 and prudence. So he only exclaimed in mild sur- 
 prise : 
 
 " At an end, senora ! Ah, you are thinking of 
 the rains of the past weeks and of the cold. Now 
 that both are over for a season, we shall go ahead 
 with renewed zeal. Is that not what you mean, 
 Senora Vera ? ' ' 
 
 " Senor, my mother meant only what she said," 
 answered Jose", before Raquel could reply. " The 
 building is at an end. I remarked awhile ago, 
 sefior, you will remember, that you had not 
 changed. Now we wish to tell you that it is we 
 who have changed, and for this reason I did not 
 wish you to leave the house until you understood 
 us perfectly. My mother and sister would like to 
 tell you, what I shall do for them, that they are no 
 longer Roman Catholics, having embraced the 
 evangelical form of belief, and I am with them 
 with all my heart."
 
 THE PRIEST BAFFLED. 261 
 
 Padre Esteban almost gasped at this glaring 
 confirmation of Don Gregorio's suspicions with re- 
 gard to the women, and with the added shock of 
 Jose's declaration as to himself. 
 
 " So you see, senor, why the building of the 
 chapel has come to an end ; also, perhaps, why I 
 cannot be expected to confess to you, "Jose con- 
 cluded. 
 
 ' ' I never expected you to do such a thing, 
 Don Jose"," replied Esteban, with some heat; 
 "you have never confessed to me, and I should 
 have let you take your own headstrong way. 
 But these dear ones here," his voice changing 
 to sadness ; ' ' oh, my friends, is it possible 
 that I have heard aright? Can i't be that you 
 are going to allow yourselves to be torn from the 
 bosom of the holy mother church by by this 
 woman, of whom you know nothing, who comes 
 here and upsets the minds of the whole commun- 
 ity with her deceitful " 
 
 " Hold your tongue, man ! " cried Jose", goaded 
 to anger by this attack on the woman who was 
 sacred to him. u I beg your pardon," he added, 
 hastily, " but I think we may leave the Senorita 
 Summers out of this question ; at least I beg you 
 to speak respectfully of her, or not at all." 
 
 Padre Esteban shrugged his shoulders expres- 
 sively, and his pale face flushed, but his policy was 
 to be as cool as possible ; sx> he only noticed Jose*'s 
 qualification of his first remark by a cold nod, and
 
 262 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 continued addressing the two women. Don Edu- 
 ardo was watching the faces about him with sharp 
 eyes, and straining his ears to hear more than 
 came to him when their voices were raised in 
 moments of excitement. Seeing his intent expres- 
 sion, Raquel left her seat for one at the old man's 
 side, and laying one hand upon his, was careful 
 during the rest of the conversation to speak so 
 that he could hear. 
 
 "Rumors had already reached me, senora, of 
 certain expressions of yours which would have 
 given me uneasiness but for my utter confidence 
 in your fidelity to the church and to your vows. 
 And I am come here now," the priest added, with 
 a tinge of severity in his tone, though his eyes 
 were downcast before Jose's gaze, "with the 
 authority of the canons of the church, whom I left 
 in La Providencia in grave unrest concerning 
 your defection." 
 
 "In La Providencia?" interrupted Jose", who 
 was tired of all this useless duplicity. " You said 
 that you came from the other direction." 
 
 "Did I not say La Providencia?" retorted the 
 priest " Certainly I left them in conclave there, 
 
 when I departed to go to S , on a matter of 
 
 equal importance with this business. It has not 
 been so very long, Don Jose", that I cannot remem- 
 ber the grave and even threatening expression of 
 their faces, as they charged me to return to them 
 by way of San Bernabe.
 
 THE PRIEST BAFFLED. 263 
 
 " He is a clever rascal, after all," sighed Jose". 
 
 " As I was saying, when Jose" became particular 
 to hear the details of my route hither," the priest 
 continued, " I am charged by the higher officers 
 of the district to which San Beriiabe belongs, to 
 carry to them a true account of the sentiments of 
 your family toward the most Holy Church. ' ' 
 
 " Senor, I fear that you did not understand my 
 son, nor me," interposed Raquel, "although it is 
 difficult to be more plain. I have become con- 
 vinced of my errors of belief in what I know is a 
 form of faith contrary to the teaching of the 
 Bible, and I have resolved to follow what I know 
 must be the truth, as I have found it in the Bible. 
 I shall join the Baptist church, to which my hus- 
 band already belongs, on the first opportunity." 
 
 "And I also, senor," added Petra. 
 
 " And I also," repeated Josh's deep voice. 
 
 " Yes, friend Esteban," chimed in the old father, 
 who understood thoroughly the point now reached, 
 " we are now a united family, and we shall try to 
 serve our God in simplicity and honesty for the 
 rest of our lives." 
 
 "Is this final?" asked the priest, after a mo- 
 ment of silence, while his thin lips worked with 
 suppressed anger. 
 
 "It is final," replied Jose, briefly. 
 
 " And the chapel, Sefiora Vera? " 
 
 " The building will be put to some other use, 
 senor," replied Raquel.
 
 264 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 " Then," said the priest, rising-, " there is no 
 further use of our speaking together. I shall pass 
 the night at the house of my friend. Dona Rosa, 
 your daughter-in-law," laying particular emphasis 
 on the word "friend." 
 
 " Your room is ready, Serior Lopez, if you care 
 to remain with us. It is quite late now," re- 
 marked Raquel, hospitably. 
 
 "Thanks, senora," he replied, "I could not 
 sleep here, I fear, and I find myself quite fatigued 
 from my long journey, so I will bid you good- 
 night." 
 
 Jose" accompanied the man to the gates and not 
 a word was exchanged until they were about to 
 part. Then Jose* remarked with some emphasis : 
 
 " If there is to be any more discussion of this 
 matter, sefior, let it be with me. The women in 
 there have expressed their intentions plainly 
 enough. They need not come into this any more. 
 You will kindly refer to me any one who may not 
 sufficiently understand our position. " 
 
 "Certainly, Jose*," Esteban responded, amica- 
 bly. " Yet do not suppose for an instant that I 
 do not understand perfectly the reasons for your 
 conversion to the Protestant faith." The tone in 
 which he spoke was so full of meaning that Jose" 
 could not fail to understand its significance. He 
 held his peace, however, and contented himself 
 with saying, before he closed and barred the gates 
 behind his visitor :
 
 THE PRIEST BAFFLED. 265 
 
 "It is only fair to tell you, sefior, that I 
 heard a part of your conversation with Don Gre- 
 gorio yesterday in the church in La Providencia, 
 and that I shall be upon my guard accordingly." 
 This admission was not very wise, perhaps, but 
 Jose could not resist the opportunity for giving 
 this last sting. 
 
 ' ' Cursed ingrate ! ' ' muttered the priest. And he 
 ground his teeth with rage, as the gates closed 
 behind him, and he turned his steps toward Dona 
 Rosa's house.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 PRAYERS TO THE SAINTS. 
 
 Definite work is not always that which is cut and squared for us, 
 bat that which comes as a claim upon the conscience, whether it is 
 nursing in a hospital, or hemming a handkerchief. E. M. Sewell. 
 
 ' T T is nice to be getting well, Senorita Maria, 
 
 -i- even though I do look such a fright," 
 Angela remarked one afternoon, after Jose* had 
 been gone a few days. Mary had been persuaded 
 to defer her return to San Bernabe awhile longer, 
 as Angela's comfort still depended, in a great 
 degree, upon her care. 
 
 "Are you a fright, Angela?" Mary asked. 
 " How do you know that, child? " 
 
 " Because I made Filipa bring me a mirror this 
 morning, while you and mamma were at break- 
 fast, and I saw myself. How horrible I am with 
 these great, dry scabs and red splotches all over 
 my face and hands ! " 
 
 They were alone in Angela's room, and the sick 
 girl lay propped upon two or three pillows, watch- 
 ing her friend, who was seated at her side, sewing. 
 The latter had recovered her bloom and cheerful- 
 ness with Angela's returning health, and her 
 patient watched with pleasure the white hands 
 266
 
 PRAYERS TO THE SAINTS. 267 
 
 that were engaged in making a little black silk 
 cap for the bare, shaved head resting upon the 
 pillows. 
 
 " Do you know what my first prayer shall be, 
 senorita, when I am able to cross the plaza to the 
 church ? " 
 
 " No, indeed, Angela, I cannot imagine. I 
 know what my first prayer would be on recovering 
 from sickness ; but I do not think I should wait to 
 be able to go to church before praying." 
 
 " Oh, but we are different, you know. Now, 
 as you would never guess it, I am going to tell 
 you. I shall go to the little chapel of Our lyady 
 of Solitude, where the picture shows her walking 
 away so sadly from the cross after the crucifixion, 
 and stepping along exactly in the bloody foot- 
 prints that our Lord made on the way to Calvary, 
 and I shall ask her to what do you think? to 
 make my new hair grow out beautiful and golden 
 like yours ! There, you will laugh at me ! " 
 
 " No, dear Angela, I am not laughing, for I 
 feel very little like doing so. " 
 
 "Why, you look sorry, senorita ! What have I 
 said to grieve you ? You do not know how hard it is 
 to lose all my good looks," and the girl's voice 
 trembled. "It does not matter so much while 
 you are here with me, but soon you will be gone, 
 and I shall never want to go to San Bernabe* 
 again." 
 
 "Why not, Angela ? " Mary asked, gently.
 
 268 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 " Because Jose will never like to look at me 
 again! There, I have told you," burying her 
 poor, scarred face in the pillow. "But if the 
 holy virgin would only give me hair like yours, 
 perhaps he would not mind the rest." 
 
 "Angela," replied Mary, gravely, "I think 
 we must talk a little about this. Tell me, dear 
 child, do you really believe that if you should 
 pray all the days of your life, before a picture of 
 Mary the mother of Jesus, you would have an 
 answer to your prayer ? " 
 
 "I do not think you understand, senorita," 
 interrupted Dona Isabel, who had entered quietly, 
 and now sat down by her daughter's side. "We 
 do not expect anything from the pictures of Mary 
 when we pray before them." 
 
 "But mamma," exclaimed Angela, eagerly, 
 "the pictures of saints do indeed work wondrous 
 miracles sometimes. Do you not know that our 
 tortilla woman always sells all of her tortillas on 
 the days that she turns the Black Saint face down- 
 ward upon the floor and tramples upon him ? " 
 
 "Why, Angela, I never heard of that super- 
 stition before. What is it, Dona Isabel?" asked 
 Mary, laughing. 
 
 " You may laugh, senorita ; but it is said to be 
 true of the Black Saint that he is propitiated by 
 disrespect, just as all the rest must be treated with 
 honor and deference. Have you never heard the 
 story of th* Black' Saint ? "
 
 PRAYERS TO THE SAINTS. 269 
 
 "No," replied Mary, "but I should like to 
 hear it." 
 
 "It is said that San Benito of Palermo was so 
 very beautiful that he was constantly interrupted 
 in his devotions and meditations by ladies who 
 were in love with him, and who were always 
 seeking opportunities of being in his company ; 
 and so great were the jealousies caused by all this 
 that he finally prayed to God to make him so 
 hideously ugly that he might be left in peace by 
 the women. His prayer was answered, and he 
 waked one morning to find himself as black and 
 ugly as he could wish. And after that he was 
 let alone by his sweethearts and became the most 
 devout of all the saints. I do not understand the 
 reason of it, but we are taught that his picture 
 must be treated with all manner of contempt in 
 order to propitiate him." 
 
 " Sometimes he is buried in the ash pile," added 
 Angela, smiling in spite of herself. "And Filipa 
 says that the tortilla woman grinds him in the 
 dirt under her foot before she goes to market." 
 
 " But surely, Dona Isabel, you do not believe in 
 this ? ' ' asked Mary, incredulously. ' ' I know that 
 the most ignorant have these strange, unnatural 
 beliefs in the power of certain images and pictures ; 
 but you are different." 
 
 " Well, senorita," replied the woman, cautiously, 
 " I cannot exactly say that I believe such tales, 
 for I have never had any proof of their truth ; yet
 
 270 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 neither can I say that they may not be true, after 
 all. Who knows?" 
 
 " What is your idea then in worshiping these 
 images and pictures here in this house and in the 
 church?" 
 
 "Ah, that is quite simple; we do not worship 
 the picture, we are only praying to the saint whom 
 the picture represents. The picture gives us 
 something real to fix our eyes upon while we pray 
 to the invisible one. Do you see? And it makes 
 it easier." 
 
 "Then you think of these representations as 
 portraits of those who have been dead for ages and 
 ages, or have never existed at all ? " 
 
 " Not exactly, senorita," replied the woman, 
 with a slightly puzzled face. It was easy for her 
 to think that she understood all this herself, but 
 the young lady's question seemed a little hard to 
 answer, and Angela was listening attentively. 
 
 "Of course, it would not be possible to know 
 just the exact features of one who had been dead 
 so long as you say," Isabel continued; "but the 
 histories tell a great deal about them, and it does 
 not so much matter, after all, whether they are 
 good likenesses or not if the saints themselves 
 were good men and women and worthy to be 
 examples for us," she ended, a little triumphantly, 
 yet wistfully. 
 
 " I agree with you so far as that goes," assented 
 the young missionary, who had laid her work
 
 PRAYERS TO THE SAINTS. 271 
 
 down now, and was looking into Dona Isabel's 
 face with a thoughtful expression in her dark-blue 
 eyes. " I am sure it will be of little consequence 
 to us after we are dead what kind of pictures are 
 made of us, if after all we have led good and 
 honest lives here. But Dona Isabel, it seems to 
 me that the important question is, not whether 
 the pictures are good likenesses or not, but rather, 
 is any one right in praying to these pictures as the 
 ignorant certainly do, or in praying to Mary and 
 the saints, as you call Paul and Peter and others, 
 through these pictures as you do ? Is not this the 
 question for us? " 
 
 "Why should it be wrong, senorita?" asked 
 Angela, as her mother was silent. 
 
 ' ' What is forbidden by God must be wrong ; is 
 it not so, Angela ? ' ' 
 
 "Of course," replied the girl, readily. 
 
 "This is not forbidden," said Isabel; "the 
 priests teach us to offer such prayers." 
 
 "Have you ever read God's law, Dona Isabel?" 
 
 " No," she acknowledged. 
 
 " Nor the teachings of our Saviour on the sub- 
 ject of worship and prayer?" 
 
 " No," she replied again. 
 
 " Nor the letters that the apostles wrote to the 
 little churches which were established through the 
 country after the Lord's death? " 
 
 "No, I have read nothing of all that. I have 
 read the lives of the saints, which tell of wonder-
 
 272 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 ful things wrought by them when alive and after 
 death. It is all very interesting, is it not, An- 
 gela?" 
 
 " Do yon know that they are true accounts of 
 these lives? " 
 
 " I cannot say ; but I suppose I know as much 
 about them as you can about the sayings of Christ 
 and of the apostles. They lived before most of 
 the saints ! " 
 
 " Yes, that is true ; but you know the Bible, 
 which contains all that I have mentioned, was 
 inspired by God, even your priests acknowledge 
 that, and it contains the expression of his will 
 toward us. We should always obey that will. 
 There may be mistakes in all that men write and 
 teach, but God never makes a mistake. He 
 teaches us that it is robbing him to give honor and 
 worship to others in his stead. We disobey him 
 when we ascribe to others the divine power of 
 forgiveness, and we pain him every time we put 
 another in his place of sovereignty over us." 
 
 " Of course I know that God is all-powerful, and 
 that there is none greater," said Isabel, thought- 
 fully, and Mary could see that she was beginning 
 to understand her thought 
 
 " Then why offer prayers to Mary, who was just 
 as human as you and I are, when God is ready to 
 hear all our petitions and when his Son spent his 
 earthly life for us and ' ever lives to make inter- 
 cession for us ' ? I know how you feel about it,
 
 PRAYERS TO THE SAINTS. 273 
 
 that it is easier to approach a woman and tell your 
 needs to her, and that she may bear them to her 
 Son ; but my dear friend, what did Mary do on earth 
 to prove her love for you ? I doubt whether she 
 ever thought much about the coming generations 
 who were to be saved by her Son's life and death. 
 She recognized him as the Saviour of the world, 
 and as her Saviour, it is true, but she loved him 
 also with a deep, human love, just such love as you 
 have for Angela here. The Bible tells us almost 
 nothing about Mary, and anything more than 
 what it tells is pure legend and superstition. I 
 want you to try and believe this, Dona Isabel, for 
 you know that I could not tell you an untruth, 
 and even many of the priests know the teachings 
 of the Bible about this as well as I do." 
 
 " They do not care for us to read the Bible, I 
 know," admitted Dona Isabel. 
 
 " And you can very well understand why they do 
 not if I am right in what I tell you. You would 
 read, in one place, where Paul is writing to Timo- 
 thy, ' There is one God and one Mediator between 
 God and man, the man Christ Jesus? What room 
 do you find here for Jesus' mother, or for the 
 saints, as mediators?" 
 
 " Then the Virgin Mary is really no more than 
 any other mother ; do you believe that, senorita ? 
 Impossible ! " exclaimed Isabel. 
 
 " Of course, I do not expect in one day to con- 
 vince you of the error of what you have been 
 
 s
 
 274 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 taught all your life, dear friend," replied Mary, 
 gently ; " I wish you, however, to think about 
 what we have said, and to talk with me freely. I 
 can only tell you what God's word says, and I 
 think that if you can believe that it contains the 
 whole truth, you will be more than willing to 
 follow it. Am I right?" 
 
 "Yes," Isabel admitted slowly, "I suppose I 
 can agree to that. We ought all to wish to know 
 the truth." 
 
 " Would I not be glad to catch Padre Esteban in 
 a downright lie ? " and* Angela laughed, gleefully. 
 Then her face fell as she exclaimed, pathetically : 
 "But then, senorita, what about my hair? If I 
 cannot pray to Mary, if she has no power to answer 
 my prayer, what shall I do ? And then, suppose 
 it never grows again, at all ? " 
 
 "Angela, there is always God, who will hear 
 your prayers. But, I do not believe that you 
 would go to your own mother even, with an abso- 
 lutely foolish request, would you, asking for some- 
 thing which could not possibly do you any good, 
 nor make you any happier ? Come, now, let us try 
 to understand this. God is our Father, patient, 
 loving, kind, and wise ; more so than any earthly 
 father can be. Before making any requests of him 
 we do not have to trouble ourselves with the 
 question as to whether the answer we wish be 
 possible or not, for God is all-powerful. But we 
 must try to be sensible human beings, and in
 
 PRAYERS TO THE SAINTS. 275 
 
 making requests of him not treat him as if we 
 were the only persons in the world, and as if God 
 had no laws of his own. We may tell him freely 
 our needs and our desires, and we may be sure 
 that we shall have an answer of some kind, if not 
 exactly what we may have expected. He under- 
 stands us better than we do ourselves, and knows, 
 before we ask him, what we desire to have ; but 
 he is our Father, and likes to have us go to him 
 in trust and love with our desires, just as your 
 mother likes for you to express your wishes to her, 
 and the answer will come, you may be sure. You 
 may ask him for yello^ hair, and he could give it 
 to you, but you would soon be very sorry for such 
 a gift. You would be more of a ' fright ' than you 
 are now, Angela." 
 
 " Would I ? " questioned the girl, shamefacedly. 
 
 ' ' Yes, dear, with your brown skin and black 
 eyes and red cheeks your own dark hair is very 
 becoming, while my hair would make you a curi- 
 osity. I like you best just as you are, or as you 
 will be when the short, black curls begin to grow 
 all over your head and the red scars all fade away. 
 Still, understand me, Angela, I do not mean to 
 say that you may not go to God with any desire 
 of your heart, if you only go with earnestness and 
 trust in him that he will do what is best and 
 right." 
 
 ' ' I only thought that the virgin would be so 
 much more interested in me, a young girl, than
 
 276 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 her Son could be," said Angela, ruefully. " And 
 I am so ugly now ! " Two tears escaped from the 
 poor, inflamed eyes and rolled down her stiff", 
 swollen cheeks. 
 
 "There, my little darling," murmured the 
 mother, bending over her daughter and stroking 
 her head tenderly, u your mother and your father 
 love you just as you are, and so does the senorita. 
 I will not have your poor eyes full of tears. Do 
 you not know that before very long all these scabs 
 will fall away and then the redness will leave, and 
 we hope you will not have very many scars, for 
 Maria has taken such good care of your poor face 
 and hands." 
 
 u Who told you how to do it, senorita ? " Angela 
 asked, presently. " Here we often have small- 
 pox, but I never heard of any one who was not 
 badly scarred." 
 
 1 ' God helped me, Angela, by giving me oppor- 
 tunities to learn about a great many kinds of sick- 
 nesses. Perhaps you will pray to him now to 
 make you quite well and not to destroy all your 
 beauty, and then how wonderful to think that it 
 may be that he was preparing to answer your 
 prayer years ago when he was helping me to study 
 about small-pox in the hospital, and much farther 
 back than that, for he can begin to answer prayers 
 thousands of years before they are prayed. Is it 
 not wonderful ? And could anybody but God do 
 that?"
 
 PRAYERS TO THE SAINTS. 277 
 
 "No, indeed!" declared Angela. "And 
 mamma, do you not see what a muddle every- 
 thing would get into if those dead men, the saints, 
 had it to manage? Suppose Anita, next door, 
 would pray to Saint Antonio that it might rain, 
 and I should be begging that it might not, what 
 would the poor man do between us ? I suppose 
 God would know how to manage much better. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Hush, Angela, ' ' said the mother, who began 
 to feel uneasy lest the conversation had gone too 
 far, and a little uncertain as to the points which 
 she had been induced to concede. " Of course you 
 know that the saints, and Mary too, only intercede 
 for us with God. It is he who rules the universe, 
 of course." 
 
 " Then let us go to him directly and not through 
 others, Dona Isabel," pleaded Mary. "I shall 
 give you a text to think about while I go out for 
 a walk, Angela, as the sun is so warm and 
 bright. This is it : ' Whatsoever ye shall ask 
 in my name, that will I do. ' These are Jesus' own 
 words and we need nothing more than this to 
 teach us that God will hear every petition we may 
 carry to him, and that the answer will come 
 according to his will. And now, good-bye for a 
 little while. Will you not come also, Dona 
 Isabel," she asked, remembering Josd's advice and 
 willing to sacrifice her own choice to please the 
 woman, who was looking thoughtful and even a 
 little sad.
 
 278 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 "I cannot let you both go at once," objected 
 Angela, nervously, and the mother declined Mary's 
 invitation at once She followed her outside the 
 door, however, and whispered, hurriedly : 
 
 ' ' I believe that what you have said is all true, 
 senorita, or at least that it is better doctrine for 
 mothers and young girls than what the padres 
 teach them. I have just begun to think about it 
 lately since Angela has been going to confession, 
 and I believe that the God you have been telling 
 us about is safer for a young girl's confessor than 
 a handsome young man, priest though he may be. 
 Do not say that I have told you this, however ; 
 the child must not know, nor her father, but I am 
 thinking and watching all the time." 
 
 " And God will help you to learn the truth, 
 Dona Isabel, if you ask him. If I am sure of 
 anything, it is that he is ready to direct all those 
 who really wish to do his will."
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 LEARNING AN AVE MARIA. 
 
 Through all my little daily cares there is 
 One thought that comfort brings whene'er it comes : 
 'Tis this : God knows. 
 
 H. M. Kimball. 
 
 r PHE bright December sunshine made even the 
 1 narrow, paved streets of the little town in- 
 viting, as Miss Summers stepped out upon the 
 cobblestones. La Providencia was exactly like a 
 hundred other small towns of Mexico. The houses, 
 all of one story, presented an unbroken line of 
 stuccoed wall, from street corner to street corner, 
 with barred windows and heavy double doors. 
 Some houses were colored blue, others yellow, or 
 green, or brown ; and in the more pretentious ones, 
 there was usually a small door cut in one of the 
 large double doors, which could be used on ordi- 
 nary occasions of exit or of entrance like the 
 " needle's eye " of the walls and houses of Pales- 
 tine. Often the double entrances were not thrown 
 open for years, and then only when a coach was 
 to be stabled in the paved hallway. At most of 
 the street corners there was a wine shop where 
 small groceries were also sold, while the other 
 shops were ranged, facing the small plaza in front 
 
 279
 
 280 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 of Dona Isabel's house. The church of San An- 
 tonio also, as has been said, looked upon this open 
 square, as did the post-office, a house not unlike all 
 the other houses of the town, except that it bore 
 a flag-staff upon the roof over the entrance. One- 
 half of this house was occupied by the hotel, and 
 the two departments were divided by a great, paved 
 hallway leading from the street back into a paved 
 court. This court, having a large fountain in 
 the center, was half filled with a stage coach, car- 
 riages, carts, donkeys, and dogs. From the plaza, 
 which occupied the center of the town, all the 
 streets branched off, and finally terminated in a 
 country lane or were brought to a dead stop 
 against some garden wall. There were no side- 
 walks at all, except the one surrounding the plaza ; 
 and though horses and vehicles were expected to 
 keep in the middle of the way, and human beings 
 on the sides next to the houses, the order was often 
 reversed, and great, brawny women cried their hot 
 corn, or goat's milk cheese, from the very middle 
 of the street, while donkeys, laden with sacks of 
 charcoal, left traces of their burden upon the walls 
 of the houses as they squeezed by. 
 
 The streets were full of people, and animated 
 vociferations, as here and there a drove of don- 
 keys threatened to monopolize the way, when the 
 young teacher crossed the plaza and then took a 
 street leading to the market square, a few blocks 
 farther on. Once she had to take refuge in a
 
 LEARNING AN AVE MARIA. 28 1 
 
 doorway from a flock of kids driven by, and on 
 looking over her shoulder she found the door 
 opening directly into a dim little room, where a 
 gray-haired woman sat poring over a little book. 
 The woman looked up as a shadow fell across the 
 page she was reading, and on seeing Mary stand- 
 ing there, smiling down upon her, she smiled too 
 and invited her to enter. 
 
 " Come in, kuerita (little fair-haired one)," she 
 insisted, " and rest awhile in my poor room." 
 
 Nothing loth, she accepted the invitation, for 
 the sweet, old face pleased her, with its coarse 
 gray hair and piercing black eyes a very differ- 
 ent face, however, from old Juana's at the ranch. 
 Old age in Mexico is often most unlovely, and 
 even revolting, among the poorest classes, when 
 the dark, withered skin stretched over the aged 
 frame looks like soiled brown leather, and the 
 nose and chin meet over toothless, mumbling 
 mouths. Yet where there is cleanliness and neat- 
 ness of dress there are exceptions to this rule, 
 and this old woman looked fresh and sweet in her 
 clean skirt and white cotton sacque. She was 
 sitting in a low chair, and at her feet was a basket 
 filled with scraps, from which she had been 
 attempting to mend a man's shirt. The shirt, 
 however, lay neglected upon her knee, and she 
 had been intent upon her reading before Mary's 
 arrival. The latter seated herself upon a stool 
 and waited for what the old lady would say next.
 
 282 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 " How pretty you are, little one ! " were the first 
 words. " Your skin is like milk and roses, and 
 your eyes are like a little bit of sky, and your 
 hair like golden threads. Where have you come 
 from?" 
 
 " From San Bernabe, mother. Do you not 
 know the big ranch of the Veras, down in the 
 plain ? " 
 
 " No, no, child. I have never heard of it, for I 
 have not long been here. My son brought me 
 here only a few weeks ago, from our own little 
 ranch on this side of the mountains, and I know 
 nothing of what lies on the other side. Ah," 
 she sighed, ' ' the sights and sounds of the city 
 weary me already, and I long to get back to my 
 old home. But I like to hear the bells of the 
 church of San Antonio, for they are very fine, and 
 the picture of our blessed lady is more beautiful 
 than any I ever saw before." 
 
 "And you can read," said Mary ; " that helps 
 you to pass the time. What is it you are reading, 
 mother?" 
 
 " Oh, the most beautiful account of our lady 
 of the rosary. Only look at this picture, senorita, 
 and see the beautiful virgin and the holy Child 
 letting their long rosaries down into the pit how 
 deep and dark it is ! " 
 
 "But what does it mean? I never saw this 
 picture before." 
 
 "Impossible! But I will tell you, and then
 
 LEARNING AN AVE MARIA. 283 
 
 you will count your beads with more zeal than 
 ever, little one. The deep, dark pit is limbo, and 
 that you know is the place where the souls of all 
 the dead babies go, if they have not been bap- 
 tized. There is a great darkness there, senorita, 
 and the helpless little ones suffer so horribly in the 
 awful darkness, away from their mothers, and the 
 little creatures climb and climb up the sides of the 
 pit, only to fall back again into the deep, dreadful 
 blackness." She paused for breath, and her voice 
 was trembling, for the thought of limbo is one 
 that few Roman Catholic mothers can dwell upon 
 with calmness. 
 
 " How dreadful the religion that teaches such 
 folly and misery ! ' ' Mary said to herself, sighing. 
 "But, see in the picture, senorita, how some 
 little white souls are clambering up out of the 
 pit, helped by the rosaries of the mother and 
 Child. Look how lovely Mary's face is, and how 
 the Child is smiling down upon the babies." 
 " And are all saved in this way ? " Mary asked. 
 " No, senorita. Only the children of mothers 
 who are constant in telling their beads and com- 
 plete the whole rosary many times a day. My 
 little Margarita died an hour after she was born, 
 and there was no time to call a priest, for she had 
 seemed a likely child. When they told me my 
 little child had gone to limbo, it nearly killed 
 me, for she was my first baby, and I could 
 not bear to think of the tender little thing cry-
 
 284 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 ing down there in the dark all by herself, and 
 I used to think I heard her wailing all through 
 the dark nights and the sunny days, which were 
 all the same to my baby then. I had been gay 
 and thoughtless before her birth, and cared more 
 for my husband and my little house than for go- 
 ing to mass and confession ; but all was changed 
 after my baby left me, and I took to my beads 
 with the greatest zeal, and kept candles burning, 
 night and day, before the picture of our lady in 
 our sala, and I stayed in the chapel all day long, 
 on my knees, except when I had to prepare my 
 Juan's meals. Finally, I fell sick again, with fast- 
 ing and the cold of the church, but I would not 
 leave off my praying until the padre one day told 
 me that he had had a vision, in which he saw my 
 Margarita clasped in the holy mother's arms and 
 sleeping with her little head tucked close to her 
 bosom ; then I knew that she was safe, and I 
 soon got well and happy again. " 
 
 " Mother, could you believe that your innocent 
 little one was anywhere but safe in heaven, from 
 the moment she left you?" 
 
 " Yes, senorita ; because, you see, she had not 
 been baptized," was the answer, in a tone of set- 
 tled conviction. 
 
 " And I suppose you tell your beads still for the 
 sake of other miserable little souls? " 
 
 " Of course I do, and for my own sake too ; do 
 you see how long my rosary is ? The flames of
 
 LEARNING AN AVE MARIA. 285 
 
 purgatory will not reach to my waist, for my 
 rosary hangs far below it. I hope you wear yours 
 long also, senorita, and are very careful to say all 
 your ave Marias and the paternosters every night 
 and morning." 
 
 ' ' I have no rosary at all, Dona , what may 
 
 I call you?" 
 
 " Sofia," the woman replied. 
 
 " I do not even know how to say an ave, Dona 
 Sofia, though I do know the Lord's prayer." 
 
 " May the holy saints in heaven protect us! " 
 exclaimed Dona Sofia, in consternation. "Not 
 know an ave, why you must be a pagan ; and are 
 they all so in the ranch where you came from? " 
 
 Perhaps any other person in town, on hearing 
 Mary's confession, would have murmured the 
 hated term protestante, but Sofia had evidently 
 never heard of this sect, and believed all the world 
 either Roman Catholics or pagans. 
 
 " I shall teach you the ave Maria, my dear child, 
 and then you will say one for every bead until you 
 have said nine, then will come one of these large 
 beads which is a paternoster, and so on until you 
 come around to where you started ; now, listen : 
 ' Hail, most holy Mary, mother of God, pray for 
 us sinners now, and in the hour of our death, 
 Amen.' See, it is very easy." The good old 
 woman looked eagerly into Mary's eyes, which 
 were filled with tears. 
 
 "Dear friend," she said, taking in hers the
 
 286 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 brown, wrinkled hands extended to her, " I cannot 
 say that prayer to Mary ; I pray only to God. No, 
 do not interrupt me, please, for it is growing very 
 late and I must hurry away. I/et me come to see 
 you again soon and I will then tell you why I 
 must pray only to God. I am not a pagan, but I 
 do not worship Mary the mother of Jesus. Shall 
 I come another day and tell you all about it? " 
 
 " Certainly, senorita, if you will honor my poor 
 home by coming," Sofia replied, with a puzzled 
 face. " Perhaps then you will make me under- 
 stand why you wear no rosary and do not even 
 know the ave Marta. ' ' 
 
 " Good bye then, Dona Sofia ; I shall come 
 again to-morrow." 
 
 She left the old woman standing nodding good- 
 bye in the doorway, and did not notice a man in 
 the long, black garb of a priest on the opposite 
 side of the street. The setting sun was sending 
 his last rays in a blinding glory of light through 
 the street as she kept on her way to the market- 
 place. Angela had expressed a wish for a banana, 
 and Mary hoped to be able to find the fruit stalls 
 still open ; the market, in fact, presented a most 
 busy scene at this hour, and in the crowd of people 
 hustling each other, she attracted little notice, 
 as she looked about her for the fruit she wished. 
 The market was simply a roof, supported by 
 numerous stone pillars and arches, and the paved 
 floor was raised several feet above the four streets
 
 LEARNING AN AVE MARIA. 287 
 
 surrounding it, and was reached by stone steps at 
 each of the four corners. It was but a small place, 
 and Mary had made almost the entire circuit of 
 the building before she found the bananas. The 
 sun had set, and the sudden twilight peculiar to 
 southern lands fell over the city. A woman was 
 sitting on the floor, behind a white cloth spread 
 on the stones, and containing little heaps of fruit 
 apples, oranges, and bananas. Mary had just 
 completed her bargain with the woman and had 
 transferred the bananas from the ground to her 
 handkerchief, when she saw two men standing in 
 one of the arches near by, intent upon some bar- 
 gain with a neighboring market woman. They 
 would not have called forth any especial attention 
 from her except that they wore long ulsters, and 
 one of them a soft, felt hat, intensely American 
 (i.e., not Mexican), of the kind styled "knock- 
 about." A flaring torch was just then stuck into 
 its place in the archway, and Mary gave a start, 
 and almost exclaimed aloud in her delight. 
 
 She went nearer the two gentlemen and laid her 
 hand gently on the gray sleeve next her, and was 
 rewarded by the sight of a start equal to her own, 
 as she said : 
 
 " Mr. Richards ! How glad I am to see you ! " 
 
 " Miss Summers ! " he exclaimed, in amazement 
 "Can it be possible?" 
 
 " Indeed it is I ! " returned Mary. "And I am 
 so thankful you have come. You are needed
 
 288 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 greatly now. And I hope you will take ine right 
 on with yon to San Bernabe." 
 
 " Yes," Mr. Richards replied. ' ' But I beg your 
 pardon, Douglas ; let me introduce you to Miss 
 Summers. Miss Summers, our new missionary, 
 Mr. Douglas. I have been giving him a bird's- 
 eye view of this part of our mission field, and we 
 intended to take the diligence to-morrow at noon 
 for San Bernabe." 
 
 Mr. Douglas and Mary greeted each other with 
 the warmth that ' ' strangers in a strange land ' ' 
 often feel one for another, and then they left the 
 market and strolled toward Don Ignacio's house 
 in the dusk. They did not pass Dona Sofia's 
 house, as they took another street ; but Mary re- 
 solved to steal a moment in the morning, before 
 leaving town, for another talk with her. Mary's 
 heart was lighter than it had been for many weeks 
 when she finally laid her head upon her pillow 
 that night. Dona Isabel and her husband had 
 welcomed the gentlemen, for Mary's sake, and 
 when they left for the hotel at a late hour, their 
 plans were all arranged for leaving La Providencia 
 the next day. Mary slept and dreamed, and her 
 dreams were bitter and sweet. Once she seemed 
 to have been trying for ages to crawl up the steep, 
 slippery sides of a dark pit, in vain, while old 
 Juana sat at the mouth and grinned, and pushed 
 her back whenever she seemed about to escape. 
 Then, at last, a man with a shining face had come
 
 LEARNING AN AVE MARIA. 289 
 
 to the edge, and calling her by name, had reached 
 down and helped her out of the mire and darkness, 
 but the hair and hazel eyes of the man were the 
 hair and eyes of Roger Douglas, and they went 
 walking together, hand in hand, over sunny, 
 grassy fields which seemed to have no end. 
 
 The next morning she slipped away while Dona 
 Isabel was busy with Angela, and hurried to the 
 door, where she had left Dona Sofia waving a 
 farewell the evening before. The door was closed, 
 and there was no sign of any occupant within ; 
 Sofia was gone. 1 Mary was sure that she had 
 made no mistake in the house, for the window 
 next door contained three large cages of noisy 
 parrots. She had noticed them yesterday, as she 
 stood watching the flock of kids go by, and now, 
 as a woman's head appeared between the two lower 
 cages, she resolved to question her. 
 
 "Yes, Dona Sofia lived there yesterday," replied 
 the woman, curtly, and with rude indifference, 
 while she scanned Mary from head to foot. 
 
 ' Then has she gone to market ? ' ' Mary per- 
 sisted, though her face burned at the woman's 
 impudent manner. " And will you tell her when 
 she returns that I came again, as I promised? " 
 
 " She will not return. Her son came and took 
 her to another house which you will not find, I 
 can tell you." 
 
 "Why did she leave, will you tell me? " 
 
 1 A true incident. 
 T
 
 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 " Because she entertained the evil one unawares, 
 yesterday afternoon, and her son and the Padre 
 Diego came and carried her away where he 
 will not find her. Do you understand ? " the 
 woman concluded, with a rude laugh. 
 
 Too well Mary understood, and her heart was 
 heavy as she turned away from the woman, whose 
 jeering tones had brought several other heads to 
 the neighboring windows. Why had she not said 
 a little more to old Sofia while there was an 
 opportunity ? And now she would never see her 
 again. Still she had done what had seemed to 
 her best, not knowing what would happen the next 
 day, and she had long ago learned to leave her 
 " best" in her Father's hands. 
 
 This disappointment, added to the real sorrow 
 she felt at leaving Angela and the rest of the 
 family, threw such a grave shadow over her face 
 that when the hour for leaving arrived Mr. Douglas 
 could scarcely believe it was the same face that 
 had sparkled at him and laughed in the market 
 place the night before. 
 
 As they parted, Dona Isabel whispered into her 
 ear, after she had taken leave of Angela, sobbing 
 in her bed : 
 
 " I shall send her to you when she is well. Her 
 father has given his promise that she may go, and 
 you will come to us again some day." 
 
 " And meantime, you will not forget all we 
 have talked about by your little daughter's sick-
 
 LEARNING AN AVE MARIA. 39! 
 
 bed. Read the Bible I have given to Angela and 
 pray to God alone that he will teach you the truth. 
 Do you promise, Dona Isabel ? " 
 
 "With all my heart, seiiorita," she replied. 
 
 When all the farewells were said, the diligence, 
 which had stopped at Ignacio's house for its last 
 passengers, rumbled off down the street and toward 
 the river, and Mary found herself turning with a 
 yearning heart toward San Bernabe and the dear 
 friends who were awaiting her there. 
 
 During the journey Mr. Richards was posted as 
 to the state of things at the ranch, and noticing the 
 young missionary's harassed look as she spoke of 
 the priest's dreaded visit and of the chapel ques- 
 tion, he felt that he had not come too soon. He 
 would carry her back with him to spend the 
 Christmas holidays with his wife and merry 
 children. 
 
 Roger Douglas thought he had never seen a 
 sweeter face than the one which looked up into 
 Mr. Richards', as he proposed this plan, and Miss 
 Summers answered : 
 
 " I thank you very much, Mr. Richards, and I 
 do long to hold a little white child in my arms 
 again ; but I cannot leave my people just now. 
 They need me, and you know you gave me to 
 them."
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 HOME AGAIN. 
 
 Thou art my King 
 
 My king henceforth alone ; 
 
 And I, thy servant, Lord, am all thine own. 
 
 Give me thy strength ; oh ! let thy dwelling be 
 
 In this poor heart that pants, my Lord, for thee. 
 
 G. Tersteegen. 
 
 IT was quite dark before the clumsy diligence 
 landed its bruised and weary passengers at 
 Don Eduardo's gates. 
 
 As it was Saturday night, and the morrow was 
 to be a day full of work and possible excitement, 
 the travelers retired to their rooms at an early 
 hour. Miss Summers was too tired to sleep, and 
 gladly listened to Refugio's chatter, as she lay on 
 the bed and rested. She learned that Padre Este- 
 ban had left the ranch after a stay of several days, 
 and that he had held services every day in Dona 
 Rosa's sala, where an altar had been improvised 
 and mass celebrated with the usual little boys as 
 assistants. On the previous Sunday he had 
 preached a sermon, inciting all the Catholics in 
 the ranch to greater faith and zeal, and the attend- 
 ance had been so large that the congregation had 
 overflowed into the hall and court, while the win- 
 292
 
 HOME AGAIN. 293 
 
 dows and doors were blocked with people outside. 
 He had especially warned his hearers against the 
 messenger of Satan, in the form of the fair- 
 skinned young woman, who was leading some of 
 the sheep astray from the fold, and he had tried to 
 exact promises from them that they would not 
 attend the evangelical services. Many hands had 
 been raised, Refugio said, but quite as many 
 remained unresponsive to the priest's suggested 
 test of fidelity to the mother church. And Sefior 
 Jiminez had preached such a good sermon that 
 night in the little Baptist chapel, not against the 
 Catholics at all, nor alluding to Padre Esteban. 
 It was all about the great love of Christ to men, 
 and the love of Christians for each other, as the 
 real test of fidelity to him. Don Eduardo with 
 all his family, Jose included, had been present, 
 and some one else, the senorita could not guess 
 who ! 
 
 "Captain Daniel?" Mary ventured. 
 
 " No, he is all and all with the padre," Refugio 
 replied ; " and they were rarely apart while the 
 priest stayed at Daniel's house ; you will never 
 guess, so I will tell you Dona Martina ! " 
 
 "Oh, Refugio!" Mary exclaimed, after a 
 moment of silent gratitude. ' ' Did she come 
 alone, poor thing? " 
 
 " Yes, she walked in a little late, with a black 
 shawl thrown over her head, and almost hiding 
 her face. She sat down by Petra, and after the
 
 294 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 meeting she came home with us, and it was she 
 who told us about Padre Esteban's sermon in the 
 morning. She was indignant at what he said 
 about you. And, senorita, she talked about 
 Juanito, and said that she almost went crazy while 
 her boy was ill and begging for you, and that if 
 it had not been for her husband and Dona Juana, 
 she would have sent for you at first. She told 
 Jose, when he walked home with her that night, 
 that she intended to attend our church always 
 now, for Don Juan, her husband, has not been 
 drunk since Juanito died, and he says she may 
 come." 
 
 " I am very thankful for that, Cuca, and about 
 Jose* also. I could hardly believe that he had 
 announced publicly that he was a Christian, 
 although I have known for a long while that he 
 was more than half convinced." 
 
 " Did you know that he played the organ for us 
 Sunday night ? He practised hymns almost all 
 day Saturday with the doors shut, and Sunday 
 morning, when Sefior Jiminez read out the first 
 one on the list that Jose" had given him, Jose" got 
 up from his seat very quietly and sat down at the 
 organ and played so beautifully. Senorita, I wish 
 you could have seen his face, it was so calm and 
 beautiful ! " Refugio's eyes were moist and the 
 hand lying on Mary's pillow trembled visibly. 
 
 A hasty thought darted through Mary's mind, 
 to be as hastily rejected : could this child, who was
 
 HOME AGAIN. 295 
 
 really a woman now, love Jose", who was kind and 
 tender to all women? Why might it not be? 
 And what happiness it would be for Mary herself 
 to feel that Refugio would be so safe and but 
 poor disfigured Angela ! No, she would lay no 
 plans of this kind. This was not a part of her 
 work. 
 
 Refugio was talking of Jose's confession before 
 his friends and servants at the evening service 
 when Miss Summers found herself listening to her 
 again ; and she heard how brave and manly he 
 had looked then as he told them all in a few 
 words of his wish to be a Christian and to be bap- 
 tized as Christ had been. 
 
 "And senorita," Refugio concluded, "I also 
 wish to be baptized to-morrow night when Dona 
 Raquel and Petra and Jose* and the others are." 
 
 Her teacher had hoped for this news, but she had 
 been unwilling to hurry Refugio to this point. 
 Now, after talking with her awhile on the subject, 
 and being satisfied that she loved the Saviour and 
 realized the significance of the ordinance, she 
 promised to speak with Mr. Richards in the morn- 
 ing. 
 
 I^ong after Mary fell asleep, out in the court the 
 windlass and chain of the well groaned and creaked 
 as Jose" and another man drew water by the bucket- 
 ful for filling the baptistery close at hand. Years 
 before, this baptistery had been built in Eduardo's 
 courtyard between the well and the flower-plot.
 
 296 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 It consisted of a space seven feet by five, on a level 
 with the paving of the court and surrounded by 
 a well-built, cemented wall four or five feet high. 
 When filled with water this furnished an excellent 
 baptistery, and when not in use it was covered 
 with a close lid of boards after the water had been 
 drawn off. 
 
 There was no moon, but the stars beamed 
 brightly down upon what seemed a peaceful, 
 sleeping village. Here and there, however, there 
 were wakeful, anxious hearts. 
 
 By midnight Miss Summers and her companion, 
 who now occupied a cot in the ante-room, were 
 resting quietly, all hope or dread banished from 
 the young missionary's dreamless sleep of ex- 
 haustion. 
 
 In a room not far away the two American 
 gentlemen were discussing the situation from the 
 new point of view offered them by Jose"'s account 
 of the events of the past few days. 
 
 " Do you apprehend any trouble from this priest 
 and his colleague the school-master ? " the younger 
 man asked. 
 
 "Yes, I do," Mr. Richards replied. "And so 
 does Jose", though we were careful not to let the 
 women imagine such a thing. I know both of the 
 men well. Esteban is a coward himself, but he 
 knows how to work on the other people, and Jose* 
 has good reason to believe that he has stirred up 
 some of the more fanatical to be on the watch
 
 HOME AGAIN. 297 
 
 against Miss Summers' return and any especial 
 services that may be observed at the union of these 
 prominent characters with our church. He had 
 no reason, I suppose, to apprehend my coming, 
 but Jose* thinks that he is skulking in one of the 
 neighboring villages not far away. Don Gregorio 
 is a desperate character where his religion, as he 
 calls it, is concerned, and though he has made a 
 pretence of keeping school these last few days, he 
 has been seen all about the ranch at odd times 
 and in a way foreign to his usual mode of life. I 
 cannot say what it is I apprehend, but it will be 
 as well for us all to be upon our guard during the 
 entire day to-niorrow, as we number but fifty odd, 
 while the other party is numerically much 
 stronger. ' ' 
 
 " I longed to understand you all to-night^ when 
 talking of these things in the parlor. One feels 
 like a deaf mute as far as understanding goes, 
 when hearing an unknown language." 
 
 " Paciencia, amigo mio/" 1 returned the older 
 man, smiling, as he looked at his watch. '' You 
 will soon be jabbering like the rest of us, thinking 
 you know a great deal of Spanish, and only kept 
 from realizing how ridiculous you make yourself 
 by the politeness of these Mexicans. And now 
 let us go to bed ; it is after midnight." 
 
 Don Gregorio, about the same time, was sitting 
 in his one-roomed cottage, poring over a slip of 
 
 1 Patience, my friend !
 
 298 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 paper which he had just found lying beside the 
 candlestick when he returned from a round among 
 the homes of several of his friends in the ranch. 
 The paper read : 
 
 4 ' Do nothing until I see you. R. and another are 
 on the ground, and it will not be safe. Wait" 
 
 "Too late!" he muttered. "And even if it 
 were not, it must be done. I myself will be the 
 avenger, and the little proselyter will soon learn to 
 sing a new tune ! " He had insensibly raised 
 his voice with the last words, and a muffled 
 "Ha! ha!" chuckled beneath his window out- 
 side startled him out of his mad thoughts. 
 
 It was only Juana, who chuckled louder as the 
 man threw open his door and looked out. 
 . "Yes, yes," she cried, catching him by the 
 hand and shaking it in an ecstacy ; " the storm 
 is coming, Mariquita, and the holy mother will 
 not save you this time, nor will the little captain, 
 either ! " 
 
 Gregorio shook her off as if she had been a viper 
 and slammed the door in her face, while he tot- 
 tered, trembling, to his bed. 
 
 Jose" worked on quietly under the stars, until 
 the last bucketful had been emptied into the 
 basin and th^ other man had departed. 
 
 The night breeze drove little ripples across the 
 surface of the water, and he leaned his arms upon 
 the edge of the pool and gazed sadly down into its 
 cold depths.
 
 HOME AGAIN. 399 
 
 " She will love him," he thought, "for he also 
 is fair and handsome. He loves her already, I 
 think, for he could not take his eyes from her face 
 to-night when she talked. Misericordia de Dios / l 
 Why must it be? " 
 
 Then he turned his white face up to the spark- 
 ling sky, and a quiet resignation settled over his 
 spirit. 
 
 '"Thy will be done,'" he murmured, softly; 
 " and help me to know what it is, so that I may do 
 it always, all the days of my life ! " 
 
 The lyord's Day dawned cold and clear. Cap- 
 tain Daniel, who had deferred his departure from 
 San Bernabe for reasons best known to himself, 
 sat moodily outside his father's door, as the little 
 cracked bell rang for morning service. He was in 
 full view of his grandfather's gates, and had seen 
 the whole household start a few moments before 
 for the chapel. He did not see, however, that the 
 four men of the party wore pistols under their 
 coats, although their faces were cheerful and 
 serene. From here and there appeared other per- 
 sons, quietly making their way toward the same 
 point, and before many moments had passed the 
 hated music of some hymn was ringing out upon 
 the sweet freshness of the day. " The chapel must 
 be slowly filling," thought the captain, for soon 
 there were many persons gathered outside, and the 
 doorway seemed choked with eager listeners. 
 
 1 Mercy of God.
 
 3OO A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 When the clear tones of Mr. Richards' voice, ad- 
 dressing the people, met his ear, he could bear no 
 more, and with an angry kick at his sword, he 
 inarched off in an opposite direction, toward the 
 unfinished walls of Dona Raquel's chapel. 
 
 Under the little tree in the open space before the 
 barn, which served for the threshing floor in the 
 autumn, there was a knot of women standing, 
 who looked up as Daniel clattered by. He re- 
 sponded to their greetings in a surly manner, and 
 after he had passed some shrugged their shoulders, 
 and one said : 
 
 " He is no good; for all his soldier uniform and 
 his straight back, he is a coward. Strange, when 
 his mother is so firm and hates those singing devils 
 down there like poison ! " 
 
 "Ah, but Danielito is more than half in love 
 with the pretty little gold-hair, and that may 
 explain a good deal," old Juana croaked, shaking 
 her fists toward the mission house and spitting 
 vindictively upon the ground at her feet. 
 
 Daniel walked on, all unconscious of these re- 
 marks, and when he reached the tower, only too 
 well remembered by himself, he found that the 
 building was occupied, for voices reached him 
 from around the corner of the wall. He followed 
 the sounds, and reaching the side looking out 
 upon the prairie and invisible from the ranch, he 
 came upon another little group. Here there were 
 no women. Don Gregorio was sitting in an angle
 
 HOME AGAIN. 30! 
 
 of the wall, holding a scrap of paper in his hand, 
 while the remaining five or six men seemed 
 divided upon some question. 
 
 As Daniel approached, all turned to him except 
 Gregorio, who kept up an indistinct muttering to 
 himself. One, who seemed a kind of leader of 
 the others and of rather a more pleasing appear- 
 ance than the rest, explained to Daniel the purport 
 of the message received by Gregorio the preceding 
 night, and signified his own intention of abiding 
 by the directions given in the note. The other 
 men were not so temperate, and urged Daniel to 
 declare that it was now too late to go back upon 
 plans already made. Daniel was silent. The 
 sight of the young missionary in all her freshness 
 and sweetness, as she had nodded to him on her 
 way to church less than an hour ago, had already 
 undone much of the Padre Esteban's training 
 during the past week, and he was fast coming to 
 the resolution of running away that day and taking 
 no part in the indignity to be put upon the little 
 church that night. He knew that Esteban's plan 
 had been only to scatter the worshipers after they 
 should have gathered for evening service, by means 
 of a few shots into the air and a wild shouting and 
 threatening from a mob outside, who could easily 
 overcome any resistance ; and afterward, a final 
 destruction of the mission house and property by 
 fire. 
 
 "No lives need be lost," the wily priest had
 
 3O3 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 suggested; "but the scare will be worth much, 
 and the senorita will be afraid to venture back 
 again soon." 
 
 When Don Gregorio had declared this project 
 weak, and that it would be productive of no per- 
 manent change in the real state of affairs, he had 
 been overruled by the more influential younger 
 man, and the plan was adopted. Now that, Mr. 
 Richards had arrived, the priest was afraid that 
 such an attack could not be carried through, and 
 he was not yet ready for personal injury to come 
 to Miss Summers. So he had sent the counter- 
 orders to Don Gregorio, who had just communi- 
 cated them to the men. 
 
 All this passed through Daniel's brain as he 
 pretended to be pondering deeply over the scrap 
 of paper which one of the men had snatched from 
 Gregorio's trembling fingers and put into his hand. 
 Then, with a feigned sigh, he said : 
 
 " I suppose we must abide by the padre's com- 
 mands, friends. As he suggests, the enemy is 
 stronger now than a week ago, and we would bet- 
 ter defer any action until the visitors leave." 
 
 A grunt of disapproval broke from Gregorio, 
 and the men turned sullenly away, except the one 
 who had first spoken to Daniel. 
 
 "Come, Diego," said Daniel, as he looked at 
 his grave companion. " I^et us ride over to La 
 Bienvenida to mass there, and if there is nothing 
 to prevent, we will make a day of it."
 
 HOME AGAIN. 303 
 
 The other agreed, and before the services were 
 over in the mission chapel, the two compan- 
 ions were trotting toward La Bienvenida in the 
 west, and breathing more freely, as their ponies 
 shook from their feet the dust of San Bernabe. 
 
 The morning passed happily within the walls, 
 which but twice more were to shelter the faithful 
 flock gathered there on that twenty-first day of 
 December. The inspiring words and magnetic 
 presence of the elder missionary, as he preached 
 the gospel, as only he knew how, to the thirsty 
 seekers after truth who thronged the little room, 
 touched many hearts that day. After what she 
 had heard, Miss Summers was not surprised to 
 see the tall, thin figure of Martina arise when an 
 opportunity was given at the close of the service 
 for those who wished to confess their faith in 
 Christ and desired to follow his commands. 
 
 When she looked into the faces of Raquel and 
 of Petra, of Refugio and Jose", and of two or three 
 others who had for some time been waiting for 
 such an opportunity, as they stood in their places, 
 she wondered if she could ever be faithless or dis- 
 couraged again. The tears rolled unchecked down 
 her cheeks, as she sat in her place before the little 
 organ at the preacher's right hand. 
 
 There were no vacant places in front, nor in the 
 aisle between the rows of benches, and the candi- 
 dates were compelled to rise and stand by their 
 seats during the long searching examination made
 
 304 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 of each in turn by Mr. Richards. As one after 
 another gave satisfactory answers, a verse of some 
 hymn was sting softly and tenderly, and once or 
 twice Mary was almost overcome, as Jose's full, 
 rich voice was heard above the rest. 
 
 " What a brave fellow he is," she thought, as 
 she watched his bright, unconscious face. " Re- 
 fugio was right. There is a beauty in his face 
 that I never saw before. He has forgotten his 
 sadness in his great joy. Thank God ! " 
 
 Roger Douglas stood beside Mr. Richards dur- 
 ing the examinations, and from time to time put 
 questions to the candidates, which were translated 
 into Spanish by Mr. Richards. This seemed to 
 bring the whole band into greater harmony, and 
 to make them forget the strange face and voice in 
 the one absorbing theme which united them. 
 
 When all the professions had been heard, and 
 the candidates had been accepted, except one or 
 two who were advised to wait longer for a little 
 further instruction, the benediction was pro- 
 nounced, and the congregation dispersed quietly 
 to their homes. 
 
 The afternoon passed as usual with Sunday- 
 school at an early hour, and then the three mis- 
 sionaries walked home together, weary indeed, 
 but very happy in the undisturbed peace of the 
 day. The congregation had been invited to an 
 early evening service, and to the ordinance of bap- 
 tism afterward in Don Ivduardo's court.
 
 HOME AGAIN. 
 
 " We shall have our men about in the crowd 
 that will surely attend the baptism," Mr. Rich- 
 ards was saying, as they neared the court-yard 
 gates ; " and they will notice any signs of disturb- 
 ance and promptly quell it. After such a happy 
 day, however," he continued, lifting his hat from 
 his head, and looking upward as if in gratitude to 
 the Ruler of all things, " I hardly think we need 
 fear anything more than a stone or two thrown. 
 I have rarely escaped something of the kind here, 
 on such occasions." 
 
 Mary shivered as she heard these words, for she 
 was only a woman, and the thought of possible 
 injury to those whom she had come to love with 
 all her heart, was terrifying to her. And over her 
 joy, like a cloud passing over the sun at midday, 
 just then there flashed the recollection of old 
 Juana's crazy prophecy twice repeated to her. 
 She shivered again, and Roger Douglas saw her 
 face grow pale. 
 
 " Come, Miss Summers," he said, briskly, "you 
 are chilly and I am cold ; it is early yet, let us go 
 for a walk on the plains, in the sunshine. I dread 
 going into these shivery Mexican houses, which 
 always have the air of a tomb." 
 
 She gladly accepted, and as Mr. Richards went 
 toward the house, she called Refugio to accom- 
 pany them, and they went out upon the sunny 
 plain. 
 
 " I think I shall have at least one of the rooms 
 u
 
 306 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 of my house roofed with glass," said Douglas, 
 laughing, when they had left the ranch behind 
 them. "Then there will be one room always 
 warm, as long as the sun is shining." 
 
 " And you could use it for an oven in the sum- 
 mer," returned his companion, brightly, tighten- 
 ing her hold upon Refugio's hand, so that the girl 
 might not feel entirely neglected during the Eng- 
 lish talk. 
 
 Then they fell to more serious talk, and each 
 learned something of the other's former life and 
 of the ardent aspirations for the work before them. 
 
 " One becomes so absorbed in the life of these 
 people when thrown with them as I have been," 
 Miss Summers confessed, " that one's former life 
 grows vague and unreal, not that I forget my 
 dear ones at home," she added hastily, "or ever 
 could do so. If they needed me, however, or if 
 by my absence they were deprived of anything 
 more than my society, I could not so heartily 
 identify myself with these new relations and sur- 
 roundings. Mr. Douglas, do you not think that 
 God sometimes lets the path of duty lie very clear 
 before us ? I have never had a doubt but that he 
 meant for me to come here, although in times of 
 discouragement, I have felt sure that something 
 was lacking in me, and in my way of getting at 
 the people. ' ' 
 
 " And I am sure you feel with me, Miss Sum- 
 mers," Douglas replied, " that a missionary ought
 
 HOME AGAIN. 
 
 to wait for just such an utter conviction as to his 
 duty as you experienced, before he undertakes 
 such a serious matter as devoting his life to 
 mission work. It ought to be one's life-work, do 
 you not think so ? " 
 
 " As far as it is possible for him as a Christain 
 to make it so, yes," she assented. 
 
 They were silent after that, as they watched the 
 gorgeous setting of the sun behind the burning 
 masses of crimson and purple clouds in the dis- 
 tance. The air again grew cold and crisp, as in 
 the early morning, and as they still walked away 
 from the ranch the sunset glow irradiated their 
 faces, and the solemn beauty of the scene touched 
 their hearts. 
 
 " How beautiful it is, senorita ! " Refugio whis- 
 pered, when they finally paused to take a farewell 
 look at the changing colors of the clouds, before 
 turning homeward. "And there is the new moon 
 opposite ! See how bright and silvery it looks in 
 the blue sky ! " 
 
 " Our baby Mary at home calls it ' God's little 
 silver lamp, hanging in the sky,' " said Mary, 
 smiling to Mr. Douglas. 
 
 Then the faint notes of a bell came across the 
 plain to them, and they hastened homeward, real- 
 izing that this was the first bell ringing for even- 
 ing service. 
 
 Douglas' object had been accomplished, for, 
 when they arrived at home warm and breathless
 
 308 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 only just in time to eat a mouthful of supper 
 before going to church, he saw that Mary had laid 
 aside her fears, and that her cheeks were glowing 
 with renewed strength. 
 
 Jose", standing in the doorway of the sala, had 
 seen them go off together, and was surprised to 
 find that he could smile at the sight. His renun- 
 ciation of himself to the will of God had been 
 hearty and complete, and although the smile was a 
 little sad, he was beginning to feel that there was 
 still much left to him, so long as he should be 
 faithful to that Will which he had adopted as his 
 guide through life.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 OLD JUANA'S PROPHECY FULFILLED. 
 
 We are buried with him by baptism into death : that like as 
 Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even 
 so we also should walk in newness of life. Romans 6 : 4. 
 
 If we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also 
 which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. / Thess. 4 : 14. 
 
 ''PHE western horizon still glowed red as a large 
 J- congregation assembled in the chapel, and 
 the silver crescent moon still held her own in the- 
 darkening sky. 
 
 Mary Summers never again caught such a 
 glimpse of the heavens without a sharp thrill, 
 first of gladness at the recollection of that after- 
 noon walk on the prairie, and then one of horror, 
 at the memory of what had followed, later on in 
 the night. 
 
 The sermon was short and simple, treating of 
 Christian baptism as believed in and practised 
 by Baptists, and all of the arguments produced 
 were derived from the New Testament itself, 
 which Mr. Richards held open in his hand, dur- 
 ing the service. In closing he made a tender and 
 striking allusion to death and the resurrection, so 
 beautifully set forth in the sacred rite. 
 
 After the service was concluded, he invited 
 
 39
 
 310 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 those of the congregation who wished to be pres- 
 ent at the baptism to proceed directly to the Vera 
 courtyard, and, at the same time, he begged that 
 perfect order and decorum should be observed 
 during the administration of the ordinance. 
 
 Those who were somewhat anxiously watching 
 the signs of the temper of the crowd noticed that 
 a half-restrained eagerness seemed leading most 
 of the outsiders toward the Vera gates, but that 
 when the entrance was reached very few actually 
 entered besides the members of the church and 
 the candidates for baptism. The others slipped 
 away to their homes or lounged about the walls 
 outside, and this looked ominous to Mr. Richards, 
 who was one of the last to enter. He whispered 
 a word to Jose", who immediately called two men 
 and stationed them inside of the entrance ; these 
 were to close and bar the gates at the least demon- 
 stration of hostility from without. 
 
 The sight within was a striking one, as some 
 sixty persons gathered about the baptistery in the 
 center of the court. Several had torches, which 
 flared redly over the dark, earnest faces watching 
 the minister as he ascended the steps outside of 
 the baptistery and then descended into the water. 
 Miss Summers' clear voice began the baptismal 
 hymn : 
 
 " Liquid grave, emblem of the Lord's," 
 
 and the solemn tune of Zion, taken up by most 
 of the voices, rose into the night and sounded far
 
 OLD JUANA'S PROPHECY FULFILLED. 311 
 
 out over the prairie, where two horsemen stood 
 silent as statues in the darkness. 
 
 Fathers lifted little wide-eyed children to their 
 shoulders that they might see the strange, wonder- 
 ful sight and mothers held their sleeping babies 
 to their bosoms with a closer clasp as one after 
 another of the candidates was led into the " liquid 
 grave." There was something very solemn in the 
 reiterated : " In obedience to the command of our 
 divine Lord and Master, I baptize thee," as first 
 Refugio, then Raquel and the others following, 
 obeyed their Master's command. As Jose", after 
 all the others mounted the steps, paused for a 
 moment before stepping into the water, Miss Sum- 
 mers, with Mr. Douglas at her side, saw that he 
 took a pistol from his belt and laid it on the edge 
 of the pool. Just then a heavy column of dense 
 smoke rose from near by in the ranch, and an 
 odor of burning caused anxious looks to be cast 
 from one to the other on the part of the spectators. 
 As the service was so near the end, however, no 
 one moved from his place. 
 
 Mary's voice, trembling a little now, began the 
 closing lines of another verse of the hymn, just as 
 Jose emerged from the water : 
 
 Y es mi gloria, 
 Sepultarme con Jesus. 1 
 
 Mr. Richards' voice was raised in the benedic- 
 
 1 And it is my glory, 
 To be buried with Jesus.
 
 312 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 tion, when a lurid light burst from the cloud of 
 smoke, and for a few moments it seemed as if Don 
 Eduardo's house itself must be ablaze, so near the 
 fire seemed. 
 
 At the same moment, from behind the high 
 wall, there rained down upon the people assembled 
 in the court, such a shower of stones, that for a 
 moment every one seemed paralyzed with conster- 
 nation. Then shrieks resounded through the 
 court, and the screams of frightened children 
 were mingled with the deeper tones of the men, 
 who hurried the women into the house as soon as 
 possible. Still the stones were hurled in upon 
 them with great force as thick as hail, while here 
 and there a larger rock crashed down upon the 
 pavement. To make the confusion greater, the 
 torches were thrown down by the bearers and 
 extinguished, and the light from the burning mis- 
 sion house outside, died out as the roof fell in with 
 its thick layer of earth upon it, and the darkness 
 was complete. Fortunately the doors of the 
 house were all open, lights were struck, and 
 before many moments the weaker ones were 
 huddled inside, while the stones still fell with- 
 out The men had rushed to the gates as soon as 
 the women and children were safe, and they found 
 that those who had been put there to guard the 
 entrance had done their part well. The gates 
 were heavily barred within, and there seemed no 
 attempt to force them open. The stones kept the
 
 OLD JUANA'S PROPHECY FULFILLED. 313 
 
 men dodging continually, as there was no cessation 
 in the rocky fire. 
 
 "We may as well go inside," Mr. Richards 
 said, after an instant or two of examination of the 
 gates. " The cowards will only fight from behind 
 the walls, and here we run the risk of having our 
 heads broken. Let us go, Douglas, to Miss Sum- 
 mers ; perhaps there are some hurt in there." 
 
 " The mission chapel is gone, sir," remarked 
 Jose", who was sheltering himself in the deep gate- 
 way. 
 
 "Perhaps they will fire this house also," sug- 
 gested Douglas, "and drive us out." 
 
 "They could not fire it from outside," Jose re- 
 plied, understanding the remark. " They must 
 have broken into the schoolhouse and filled it 
 with straw." 
 
 " Where do these stones come from ? " Douglas 
 gasped, as they rushed across the court again to- 
 ward the first open door. ' ' They seem to have 
 no end to them." 
 
 " The prairie is strewn with them. They ar- 
 ranged the attack while we were in church, I sup- 
 pose." 
 
 They entered the house and found themselves 
 in Miss Summers' room, which was crowded with 
 frightened women and sobbing children. 
 
 ' ' Come, Mr. Richards, to poor L,uisa and look 
 at her baby," Mary begged when she saw them. 
 " I have done all that I could, but I am afraid it
 
 314 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 is dying. See its poor head ! One of the first 
 stones struck it and it has not moved since." 
 
 Then she whispered to Mr. Douglas, who was 
 dismayed at the piteous sight of Luisa's grief : 
 
 " There are others too, cut and bruised. I am 
 very faint and must have a little air. Help them, 
 please, while I stand a moment at the door. It 
 will pass soon," she added, as he exclaimed at the 
 pallor of her face. "We are so crowded in here, 
 that is all. They have stopped throwing stones 
 now, and I hear nothing at all." 
 
 Mr. Douglas joined Mr. Richards, and Miss 
 Summers stood alone just outside of the door. 
 The ground was covered with the missiles, and no 
 one was in sight in the court except a few men 
 gathered silently about the gates. 
 
 Presently she was sure she heard a groan from 
 a dark corner at the other end of the house, and 
 she darted across the court without calling any one 
 in her haste. Fallen in a heap she found old 
 Eduardo Vera, lying just as a large stone had 
 struck him to the ground. In the crowded rooms 
 he had evidently not been missed. She was just 
 bending to lift his head when a strong hand seized 
 her by the shoulder, and looking up in terror, she 
 saw the face of Gregorio, distorted with madness, 
 within six inches of her own. He carried a long, 
 keen knife in his free hand, and Mary's head 
 reeled as he hissed at her a string of foul names, 
 ending with :
 
 OLD JUANA'S PROPHECY FULFILLED. 315 
 
 " You thought you had escaped, did you, you 
 little daughter of Satan ? Ha ! the rocks made too 
 taine work for me, and I have been waiting- here 
 
 ' o 
 
 all the time for you in the dark. Now I have you, 
 and by the holy virgin and all the saints, you have 
 done the last of your vile proselyting, for there ! 
 and there ! " He struck wildly at her breast, but 
 found himself pinioned from behind by arms 
 stronger than his own, and he lost his grip on the 
 knife, not, however, before his own hand was 
 dripping with the blood he had drawn from the 
 victim he had struck. 
 
 When Mary crossed the band of light streaming 
 from her door, and ran out into the court, Jose", 
 from his station at the gate, had seen her with 
 dismay and hurried after her. He feared a chance 
 rock thrown, or he scarcely knew what, and' fear 
 urged him to her side just in time to fling himself 
 beneath Gregorio's hand, and to receive both 
 blows from the sharp knife. Then all three 
 rolled to the ground, and Mary found her voice 
 and screamed with terror. 
 
 They were surrounded in an instant. Don 
 Gregorio, foaming and gnashing his teeth, was 
 held and securely bound by a dozen men, while 
 Mary and Jose* were helped to the house. Then, 
 the lantern in somebody's hand discovered the 
 motionless body of Eduardo, lying a few feet from 
 where the others had fallen. Great lamentations 
 filled the air as they bore their unconscious bur-
 
 316 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 dens into the great sala } which was nearest to 
 hand. Mary quickly recovered her outward com- 
 posure and set about helping with the wounded. 
 
 While Mr. Richards and Mr. Douglas examined 
 Jose's wounds, Miss Summers dispatched Refugio 
 to the medicine closet for sponges and bandages, 
 and then she went to the old man, who lay, 
 breathing heavily, on the mattress which had 
 been arranged for him on the floor of the sala. 
 Raqtiel and Petra knelt at his side weeping, while 
 Mary applied restoratives. A sickening bruise on 
 the top of his bald head, from which he had lifted 
 his hat as the benediction was pronounced, told to 
 all that there was no hope. 
 
 Then the men called Mary to Jose", and she 
 hastened over to his mattress to dress his wounds. 
 He also was unconscious now, from loss of blood, 
 as the first knife thrust had severed a small artery 
 in the right arm, and the blood had gushed forth 
 in a heavy stream. His clinging, wet sleeve had 
 partly stayed the flow, and Mary lost no time in 
 finding the artery, tying it and putting the neces- 
 sary stitches in the wound. Then she gently and 
 skillfully bandaged the arm. The other wound 
 was in the left hand, which the knife blade had 
 pierced through the palm. Both men stood by 
 and marveled at the deftness of the white hands 
 as they bathed and dressed and bandaged this last 
 wound also ; but no one spoke. 
 
 "The antiseptic gauze with which I have
 
 OLD JUANA'S PROPHECY FULFILLED. 317 
 
 dressed the places," she explained, presently, 
 "will prevent any inflammation, I hope, in heal- 
 ing. I do not think the wounds are dangerous, 
 but they will be very painful, particularly that in 
 the hand. I do not understand why he was not 
 killed." She shuddered as she spoke. 
 
 As Jose* showed signs of reviving, she begged 
 Mr. Richards to have him carried to his own room, 
 as the sight of his father on the floor would be 
 overwhelming for the poor fellow. 
 
 lyiiisa still crouched in Mary's room, moaning 
 over the dead baby on her lap, and several other 
 women sat around her, trying to comfort her. 
 
 "My Pablito, my pretty boy!" she groaned. 
 "They have killed you, my poor little inno- 
 cent ! " 
 
 Martina tried to take the baby from her arms, 
 for her heart ached for this poor little mother's 
 heart ; but L<uisa held the little form tightly 
 wrapped in her shawl and took no notice of any 
 one. 
 
 Mr. Douglas, wandering about the house and 
 court after helping to settle Jose* in his own bed, 
 came upon the little knot of women at Mary's 
 door, and after watching the stricken mother's 
 grief for a moment, hurried in to Mr. Richards, 
 who sat beside Jose. 
 
 " Where is the father of that dead baby, Rich- 
 ards? He ought to be there with his wife. I 
 never saw such a sad sight in my life. The woman
 
 31 8 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 looks crazy. Where do you think I could find the 
 father?" 
 
 " Do you know, Jose* ? " Mr. Richards asked the 
 young man. u L/uisa's baby, you know, is dead, 
 and where is the father ? " 
 
 Jose shook his head, and then murmured feebly : 
 " He is gone off to the city of Mexico, they say." 
 
 " You can do nothing for her," said Mr. Rich- 
 ards. " I/eave her to Miss Summers." 
 
 Meanwhile the stertorous breathing of the 
 dying man in the sala had ceased, and his breath 
 was growing faint when Mr. Douglas again went 
 into the room. Mary was kneeling close beside 
 the old man, who had opened his eyes, and was 
 trying to say something, but in vain. 
 
 After a few struggles for breath he closed his 
 eyes and turned his poor gray head on one side as 
 if for sleep. Watching his face intently, Miss 
 Summers saw his lips move again, and bending 
 close to his mouth, she caught the halting words, 
 which were the last he ever spoke : 
 
 " Es mi gloria, 
 Sepultarme con Jesus ! " 
 
 They were the last words of the hymn that had 
 been upon his lips as he had bowed his head to re- 
 ceive the benediction, and lo ! the blessing had 
 come to him, and to little Pablito, in the shape of 
 speedy and perhaps painless death. 
 
 The ranch was quiet by one o'clock. Stern- 
 looking armed men patrolled the street and by-
 
 OLD JUANA'S PROPHECY FULFILLED. 319 
 
 ways, with hearts sick and sore over the death of 
 their aged head, and the silence was unbroken 
 during the night. Jose had ordered this watch to 
 be kept, so that the women might return to their 
 homes in safety. 
 
 Martina had persuaded Luisa to accompany her 
 to her home, and gradually the premises were 
 emptied of the crowd lingering about the doors. 
 The crazy school teacher was carried to his own 
 house between two strong men, who were to guard 
 him until morning. He walked off mumbling 
 incoherently to himself, and there could be no 
 doubt that he was deranged. Miss Summers 
 shuddered as she saw from her window the man 
 struggling with his keepers on the road outside, 
 and then with a heavy sigh she turned away from 
 the beautiful starlit night, which a few hours ago 
 had seemed so peaceful. 
 
 She had sent Refugio to bed, and had put on a 
 loose wrapper for the night, and was beginning to 
 brush out her long, beautiful hair, when some one 
 knocked at the door. 
 
 "It is I, Miss Mary," said Mr. Richards, as he 
 knocked. " I hope that you have not retired, for 
 Jose is a little wild and is calling for you. Could 
 you come for a moment ? Yes, just as you are," 
 he continued, as she opened the door and hesitated. 
 "It is only to satisfy him that you are unhurt. 
 He has not seen you, you know, and though I 
 have assured him that you are all right, he keeps
 
 32O A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 rousing to ask for you. At this rate lie will get 
 no sleep at all. Poor girl, you are so tired, are 
 you not ? " as Mary sighed deeply. They were 
 in the court now. 
 
 "It is not that, Mr. Richards. But why has 
 there been all the horror of this night when every- 
 thing seemed so plain and so happy ? " 
 
 "We are in the Lord's hands, my dear Miss 
 Mary," he replied, simply, leading her to Josh's 
 bedside. 
 
 "Here I am, Jose"," she said, soothingly, a 
 moment after as he started up restlessly from the 
 pillow. " It is you who are hurt, and not I ; you 
 saved my life, perhaps, do you know that, Jose ? ' ' 
 
 " Then I am happy," he answered, feebly. " If 
 I die, I shall die happy that I saved your life, 
 senorita." He looked earnestly at her as she stood 
 beside him in her dark -blue gown, with her fair 
 hair loosened and half shading her face. 
 
 " You will not die, Jose"," Mary replied, " if you 
 lie quietly now and sleep. To-morrow you will 
 feel almost well again, though your arm and hand 
 may be stiff and sore for some time. Good-night, 
 now ; try to sleep." Jose's dark eyes followed her 
 to the door, then closed gently and he slept. Mr. 
 Richards rested his weary frame on the other bed 
 in the room, while Roger Douglas sat down quietly 
 beside the window, watching for the morning to 
 break over the purple hills.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE BURIAL. 
 
 We know that all things work together for good to them that love 
 God. Rom. 8 : 28. 
 
 THE next afternoon, just before sunset, all that 
 was left of Eduardo Vera and the little baby, 
 after their souls had returned to God, was laid to 
 rest in the Campo Santo. In accordance with the 
 Mexican law, which forbids any act of worship 
 outside the walls of a house, the bodies were 
 lowered into the graves without either prayer or 
 hymn accompanying the burial. There had been 
 a tender service held in the Vera sala, however, 
 before the procession had left for the cemetery, 
 and the solemnity of the utter silence during the 
 burial seemed to Mary Summers more touching 
 than any human words could have made it. 
 
 Jose" had insisted on attending the funeral, and 
 he stood between his step-mother and Petra, with 
 each aim in a sling, looking very white and ex- 
 hausted, but perfectly calm. Every one was quiet 
 and thoughtful as if the preacher's last words as 
 they left the house were still sounding in their 
 ears, with the comfort of their meaning taking 
 away most of the sting of death. 
 
 v 321
 
 333 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 1 ' I am the resurrection and the life, he that be- 
 lieveth in ine, though he were dead, yet shall he 
 live." 
 
 The next few days were devoted by Mr. Richards 
 to doing what he could toward settling affairs at 
 the ranch. The mission chapel and schoolhouse 
 was a blackened ruin, and everything which it 
 contained had been destroyed. The wind scat- 
 tered all through the ranch pages from the Bible, 
 which had been torn to pieces when the mob first 
 broke into the chapel. Many of these leaves were 
 covertly snatched from the road and hidden away 
 carefully, to be read by those who had been fore- 
 most in the hatred of the "cursed doctrine." 
 And who knows that this seed sown by the way- 
 side was not to bear fruit ? 
 
 Don Gregorio was sent to S , to be confined 
 
 in the hospital for the insane there, as he contin- 
 ued to show every symptom of insanity. And 
 Mary breathed more freely when he was shut in 
 a special coach, and driven off with his two 
 keepers. 
 
 There was no means of ascertaining all of the 
 true actors in the assault, and Mr. Douglas 
 thought it strange that the affair was not imme- 
 diately put into the hands of a vigorous police. 
 
 u Are murder and arson to go unnoticed and 
 unpunished in this manner?" he exclaimed, rest- 
 lessly, on the third day.
 
 THE BTJRIAI,. 333 
 
 "It does seem hard, Douglas," replied Mr. 
 Richards ; "but you can have no idea how difficult 
 it is in this country to get an affair like this taken 
 up with any judgment or success. Of course, it 
 has been reported to the authorities at I/a Provi- 
 dencia. But you will see that nothing is done. 
 There is no doubt that some of the lower Vera kin 
 were mixed up in it, and the elder heads of the 
 family will take pains to hush it up. Indeed, 
 Roger, we do not know that Dona Rosa Vera her- 
 self, Eduardo's daughter-in-law, was not one of 
 the chief instigatois in the disturbance, though 
 of course she had nothing to do with Gregorio's 
 violence. The loss of life is something to be for- 
 ever regretted, as old Eduardo's death is a real 
 calamity to the ranch, but our work here will not 
 be hurt in the least. I think it probable that 
 there will be a reaction in our favor after this, for 
 the priest Esteban will keep clear of the place for 
 a long while now." 
 
 The two gentlemen were sitting on a stone bench 
 which extended the length of one end of the barn, 
 at some distance from the house, and were waiting 
 for Miss Summers, who was to join them there, 
 after the dressing of Josh's wounds. 
 
 The barn occupied one side of the little open 
 square in the center of the ranch, and from this 
 seat in the shade, they could see the women going 
 to and from the well under the little willow tree, 
 with their large red water jars upon their shoul-
 
 324 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 ders. A few men lounged there as usual, and the 
 little ones were at their play. 
 
 A subdued hush rested over the ranch, and the 
 women's voices were toned to a lower key than 
 usual as they passed hither and thither about their 
 work. 
 
 " Perhaps you are right, Richards," Mr. Doug- 
 las continued. " Of course, you know this 
 country better than I do. But is there no justice 
 done when crime is committed?" 
 
 " Certainly ; and I do not mean to say that 
 many of the laws are not wise, and sometimes 
 faithfully carried out. But we are Protestants, 
 you know ; and I need say no more, when you 
 hear that this place comes under the jurisdiction 
 of the authorities at La Providencia. Perhaps 
 this afternoon, or to-morrow, or next week, a 
 couple of mounted police will come galloping in 
 from that town, and with a great show of defer- 
 ence to Jose" and Dona Raquel, and of zeal in 
 searching for the offenders, will clatter about the 
 ranch and ask impertinent questions of each one 
 of us Americans. Then, after mysterious conver- 
 sations together, they will gallop back to La 
 Providencia, carrying a prisoner or two, who will 
 just as likely as not be entirely innocent. It is not 
 cowardice, believe me, that keeps us from appeal- 
 ing to the authorities ; it is rather the perplexities 
 involved in making out a case against any one in 
 particular, and by experience gained by long
 
 THE BURIAL. 335 
 
 years of life among this people, and by fruitless 
 effort at having anything like justice done our 
 own followers. We shall be ready, without doubt, 
 to appear as witnesses if there is a legal inquiry 
 made into the facts, yet Jose agreed with me that 
 anything beyond informing the mayor at L,a 
 Providencia of the murder and attack, was out 
 of the question. But here comes Miss Summers. 
 How white and tired she looks, poor girl ! " 
 
 Jose* and Petra accompanied her, and soon after 
 Raquel and little Benjamin followed them toward 
 the great barn. 
 
 "Mr. Richards," Miss Summers began, as she 
 sat down with the two other women, "before I 
 walk on with you to El Porvenir, to see the Gui- 
 terrez family, Jose wishes to tell you something 
 which he has just heard. He did not wish to 
 interrupt you now, but I told him our walk could 
 wait for a while." 
 
 ''Yes, now is the best time, friends," replied 
 Mr. Richards, heartily. "But sit down niy 
 friend," he added to Jos, "you look pale and 
 faint. How are the wounds to-day ? " 
 
 ' ' The senorita says they are doing well, and I 
 am in very little pain, thank you," Jose* replied, 
 taking his seat. 
 
 " Well, let us hear this business which you have 
 to talk over with me." Then glancing up in 
 some surprise, as Jose" was silent, he saw him look- 
 ing with a peculiar gaze at a figure standing in
 
 326 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 Dona Rosa's doorway. It was Captain Daniel, 
 arrested for a moment in coming out of the house 
 by the sight of the group at the barn door. He 
 was turning back hastily into the house when Jose" 
 called : 
 
 " Daniel ! Come out here for a moment." 
 
 After an instant's hesitation, the soldier obeyed, 
 and came slowly toward them. 
 
 " I have not had an opportunity of speaking 
 with you, Daniel, since since last Sunday night, 
 and as they tell me you are leaving to-day, I must 
 not lose this one. I shall not detain you," he 
 continued, sternly, as Daniel pretended to look 
 around for a seat, " as I only wish to ask you one 
 or two questions. Where were you during last 
 Sunday night?" 
 
 Daniel answered readily enough : 
 
 "I spent the whole day Sunday in La Bien- 
 venida and returned at midnight, as my mother 
 can tell you." He had feared a more difficult 
 question. 
 
 4 ' You knew the plan of our enemies and went 
 away from the ranch to avoid being concerned in 
 it ; am I right ? " 
 
 Daniel shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "What would you have?" he replied. "I 
 alone could not have persuaded them to give up 
 their design, I tried, indeed." 
 
 "What would I have?" repeated Jose", with white 
 lips. "I would have my murdered father alive
 
 THE BURIAL. 327 
 
 now ! I would have that murdered, innocent child 
 again in his mother's arms ! I would have our 
 mission chapel again as it was ! And I will tell 
 you what I will have," he continued, rising from 
 his seat and stepping nearer to Daniel, who cringed 
 before the tall, commanding figure standing above 
 him ; " if you are not out of the way by six o'clock 
 this afternoon, when the police come from La 
 Providencia, I shall hand you over to them, as 
 the vile traitor that you are ! Do not think that 
 I do not know of more than one crime of yours 
 during these weeks that you have spent here, 
 which I would scorn to name to you. Now go ! " 
 Jose sank exhausted on the bench, while Daniel, 
 obedient to his orders, hurried away. 
 
 Nobody had interrupted the dialogue, for it 
 had all passed in a few seconds of time, and Jose" 
 soon recovered sufficiently to say in a melancholy 
 tone : "I beg the pardon of you all, for such 
 words and behavior in your presence ; but it was 
 impossible to let the fellow go without a word. 
 If I had not called him then he would have 
 slipped off without letting any one know ! " 
 
 " How did you know that he went to La Bien- 
 venida, brother ?" Petra asked. 
 
 " Because Diego, who went with him, came and 
 told me all about it this morning. He, poor fel- 
 low, is full of remorse, although he took only the 
 part Daniel did in the affair, and had done his 
 best, Sunday morning, to persuade some of the
 
 328 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 others to give up the whole thing. He will not 
 tell the names of any of them, however, and I did 
 not urge him, for I am sick almost to death of all 
 this." The poor fellow did indeed look so, as he 
 leaned his head with closed eyes against his step- 
 mother's shoulder for a moment. Then he roused 
 himself, suddenly, and began speaking again 
 earnestly : 
 
 " Daniel is weak, pitifully weak, and I am glad 
 enough to have him gone. He was always so in 
 our childhood together ; you remember, Petra, 
 how deceitful he was and sly. But he will soon 
 be gone, and there will be an end of him, until he 
 conies again. It was about Diego that I wished 
 to speak to you, Mr. Richards, as I have already 
 said to the senorita. He tells me that there is a 
 general feeling of great sorrow among the men 
 who took part in the mob Sunday night, and that 
 if they only dared to confess their part in it they 
 would be glad to come to us and beg forgiveness. 
 He says that there are still some men and women 
 who continue very bitter, old Juana among them 
 I judge, but he knows even those to be very 
 thoroughly cowed. And the idea has come to 
 me ah, the senorita has guessed it ! " he added, 
 with* a brighter smile than had been seen on his 
 face since that last Sunday morning. 
 
 "The church ! " exclaimed Mary, softly, grasp- 
 ing one of Raquel's hands. 
 
 " Yes, that is it," Jose" assented. " If you, Mr.
 
 THE BURIAL. 339 
 
 Richards, think it a wise time to act now, I had 
 thought it might be well to invite all the men to 
 meet us here and to ask all who feel willing to do 
 so to offer their services in renovating the little 
 church out there and completing it for our own 
 mission church. What do you say ? " 
 
 "I think it a very good plan, indeed, Jose," 
 Mr. Richards replied, thoughtfully. "You will 
 offer them regular wages, of course ; and those 
 who do not accept will be afraid to oppose, I firmly 
 believe." 
 
 "And then," added Miss Summers, "it may 
 relieve some of those wretched men who are really 
 sorry for what they have done and are afraid to 
 say so, and we shall all be drawn more closely to- 
 gether by the work. What do you say, dear 
 Raquel?" 
 
 " That it shall be as all of you decide," the 
 woman replied, quickly and sadly. The shadow 
 brought into her life as a consequence in part of 
 her own act, would never be entirely lifted, 
 although she knew that if it was all to be done 
 over again, her decision would be the same. 
 That afternoon was fixed upon for the conference 
 of the ranch and the little party separated. 
 
 The young missionary and her companions were 
 glad to stretch their limbs and warm their chilled 
 feet with a bracing walk across the three miles of 
 prairie to El Porvenir. Though the sun was 
 warm, the breeze was strong and fresh, and they
 
 330 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 all enjoyed exchanging for a while the saddened 
 atmosphere of the Vera house for the glad, free 
 air of the plain. 
 
 Miss Summers told them of her adventure in 
 ,the storm on that same road with Captain Daniel, 
 and of her refuge in the chapel tower. 
 
 " What a little coward he looked just now when 
 Jos was pitching into him," said Roger Douglas, 
 with a laugh. " Of course I understood very little 
 of what was said, but the little fellow turned 
 quite yellow under his soldier-cap." 
 
 "Jose thinks he has been flirting with the pretty 
 child Angela Vera, whom I used to pet years ago 
 when I first began coming to the ranch," remarked 
 Mr. Richards. "What do you think of it, Miss 
 Summers ? Has the girl lost her heart to him ? " 
 
 " Not to Daniel; no, indeed !" Miss Summers 
 replied. 
 
 " To whom then ? " in some surprise. 
 
 ( ' I think she likes Jose*. Now she fears that he 
 will not like her since she has had small-pox and 
 has lost much of her beauty." 
 
 "They are first cousins," remarked Mr. Rich- 
 ards ; ' ' for Ignacio and Eduardo were brothers. 
 We must look for another wife for Jose". Who 
 shall it be, Miss Mary ; any one at the ranch ? " 
 
 "Jose" would perhaps like best to choose for 
 himself," suggested Roger, dryly. "I should, I 
 am sure." 
 
 "Then we will leave it to him," said Mr.
 
 THE BURIAL. 331 
 
 Richards, as if with an air of relief. ( ' No doubt 
 he can best suit himself. Only look," he added, 
 with a swift change of the subject, "and see those 
 cloud shadows on the mountain sides. I think I 
 never saw the mountains so blue as they are to- 
 day ; and farther on, is there not ? yes, there is 
 snow on the Buena Vista peak ! " 
 
 And so they strolled along, playing bo-peep 
 with the inquisitive but cowardly little prairie 
 dogs, chatting and laughing, and indulging in one 
 of those free and careless hours so much relished 
 by the care-worn missionary on a foreign field. 
 
 Jose meanwhile sat alone in the court-yard, 
 while the women of the house went about pre- 
 paring dinner for their guests. Their hearts were 
 heavy, and no songs issued from the kitchen to- 
 day. Little Benjamin, oppressed by the gloom 
 of the place and missing his old father's caresses, 
 strolled past his silent brother and out at the gates 
 to find some cheerful little playfellow. 
 
 Refugio, sitting on a low stool at Mary's door, 
 was busily sewing, hushing, remorsefully, the song 
 that rose every few moments to her lips. The 
 song was in her heart, but sadness for her friends 
 was there too, and " How happy are they who the 
 Saviour obey ' ' seemed a sentiment that was almost 
 a mockery in view of the sorrow that might follow 
 such obedience. Her sweet young face grew very 
 grave as she bent over her work, puzzling herself 
 with this thought, and she was quite unconscious
 
 332 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 of the pretty picture she made as she sat there. 
 The dark-blue rebozo had fallen from her head, 
 which was now covered with short, shining waves 
 of black hair; the liquid, black eyes were invisible 
 as she bent them upon her work, but long lashes 
 swept her round, olive cheek, and her lips were 
 as red as twin cherries. Presently her hands 
 dropped upon her lap, and she leaned back with 
 a sigh. 
 
 Jose had been watching her for a while, idly at 
 first, as he sat helpless in his father's old arm- 
 chair on the other side of the court ; then he grew 
 interested as he realized the beauty of the girl and 
 noted the intent expression of her face. He re- 
 called the wan, emaciated little creature who had 
 lifted great, appealing eyes in such surprise at 
 every kind word when she had first come to San 
 Bernabe". She had since proved herself a most 
 winning, affectionate girl, and even Petra seemed 
 to have long since forgotten that she had not 
 always belonged to the house. When she sighed, 
 Jose" started from his reverie. 
 
 1 ' What is the matter, Cuca ? " he asked. ' ' Why 
 are you sighing?" His tone was as caressing as 
 if he was addressing Benjamin or some other little 
 child. Refugio only smiled, then sighed again 
 as she took up her work. 
 
 " Are you so very busy, Cuca ? ' ' Jose" then asked. 
 ' ' I am very thirsty, and as I have no arms now, I 
 may die of thirst sitting here while the others are
 
 THE BURIAI,. 323 
 
 busy in the kitchen, unless you will get me some 
 water." He smiled ruefully as he spoke, and 
 Refugio gladly hastened to the well to draw it 
 fresh for him. 
 
 " It is very lonely for you, sitting here," she 
 said, after he had drunk from the tin dipper she 
 held to his lips. 
 
 ' Then bring your stool over here, and talk to 
 me," he suggested. " You can sew at the same 
 time." 
 
 " May I, Petra ? " she asked, as the woman ap- 
 peared at the kitchen door. 
 
 " May you what, Cuquita ? " 
 
 " Come over here and sit by Don Jose, and talk 
 to him ; he is so lonely ! " 
 
 "Why yes, silly child! Of course you may 
 amuse Jose, poor fellow." 
 
 Then she carried her stool and her work and sat 
 down not far from Jose's feet. 
 
 " Now you will tell me why you were sighing 
 just now, little one," he said, watching the steady, 
 brown fingers as they stitched away. The fingers 
 were not so white and pink-tipped as the young 
 missionary's, but they were just as shapely, and 
 the plump hand was even smaller than Miss 
 Summers'. 
 
 When Refugio confided to him her puzzle sug- 
 gested by the hymn, Jos<! looked grave. 
 
 !< ^You and I are only little children yet," he re- 
 plied, after thinking a moment. " And I suppose
 
 334 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 we ought not to try to understand all the hard 
 things. We are all sad here to-day, Cuca, but I be- 
 lieve that in a sense we are really happier than we 
 have been for a long time. What do you think ? " 
 
 " I know what you mean, and that is what gives 
 the look to your face, which is not like what it was, 
 Don Jose", before you went to La Providencia with 
 the Senorita Maria. I think I also feel it a little, 
 in my heart," she ended, timidly. 
 
 " I am sure you do, dear child," Jose" answered. 
 " I know that it sometimes must take great con- 
 fidence in him to believe that God is doing just 
 the very best thing for us when it may seem to us 
 the worst. But I think we must trust him, after 
 all, Cuca ; and then I am sure that we ought to be 
 willing to suffer if it is for the good of his cause 
 amohg our people. So I think you may sing your 
 hymn, even to-day, Cuca." 
 
 The tears were dropping from her eyes upon her 
 work, as Jose" finished speaking, and his heart 
 warmed toward her whom he was comforting with 
 his own comfort. 
 
 "How wonderful it is ! " she exclaimed, lifting 
 her brimming eyes to Jose" ; " I thought once that 
 I could never love any one so well as the Senorita 
 Maria, and now I know that I love the Lord just 
 as well." 
 
 Jose" was silent then, and they sat thus until 
 Petra called them in to their early dinner.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE CONFERENCE AT THE BARN. 
 
 With well-doing ye may put to silence the ignorance of foolish 
 men. i Peter 2 : 15. 
 
 I have news of the priest Esteban, Jose*," Mr. 
 Richards whispered, as he took his seat by 
 the side of the latter that afternoon on the bench 
 where they had rested in the morning. 
 
 "And what has become of him, senor?" Jose 
 asked, frowning. The men and women of the 
 ranch were beginning to come together in the 
 square before the barn, for word had soon traveled, 
 from house to house, that Jose wished to speak to 
 as many as would gather at the appointed hour. 
 He dreaded the interview, for he was weak and 
 nervous from his wounds, and his heart was sore, 
 and the mention of the priest now roused in his 
 breast such bitterness of feeling that he found it 
 hard to control his voice. 
 
 Must he forgive this man whose bad influence 
 among the people had led to such disastrous re- 
 sults in their peaceful little community ? There 
 was no time to settle this question then, however, 
 for Mr. Richards continued speaking. 
 
 "Juan Gutierrez, in El Porvenir, told me this 
 
 335
 
 336 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 morning that it is rumored from S that the 
 
 priest has gone over to the United States. It is 
 given out that he has been sent to San Antonio, 
 Texas, on a mission of importance for the church. 
 I do not think we need fear ever seeing him again 
 about San Bernabe*. When such men as Don 
 Gregorio and your nephew, the captain, were his 
 allies, he would fear to return here." 
 
 "I only wish he would return," murmured 
 Jose" ; two red spots were burning on his pale 
 cheeks, and his mood was entirely changed from 
 what it had been in the morning, as he had talked 
 with Refugio in the court. 
 
 The sight of the men, some slouching with 
 feigned carelessness toward the well, other ap- 
 proaching a little nearer the bench where he sat, 
 and wearing the flush of shame and dread upon 
 their faces, roiised all the sternness in his nature, 
 as he saw before him the murderers of aged and 
 helpless innocence. 
 
 The men were afraid to stay away, partly be- 
 cause they feared that their absence would seem 
 like an admission of guilt, and partly because they 
 had inherited several generations of respect and 
 even reverence for the head of the ranch commu- 
 nity. All looked to Jose", involuntarily, as the suc- 
 cessor of his father, although there had been as 
 yet no general meeting of the family in the pres- 
 ent strained condition of the family relations. 
 
 Many had come from a strong curiosity to know
 
 THE CONFERENCE AT THE BARN. 337 
 
 what Jose could have to say to them, and soon 
 after four o'clock the open space was nearly filled 
 with quiet groups of waiting hearers. 
 
 Jose and Mr. Richards were joined by the rest 
 of the household, and Miss Summers sat close at 
 Raquel's side, grasping the woman's hand with 
 her own, beneath the black shawl which covered 
 the latter's head and shoulders. 
 
 Jose arose, and steadying himself by leaning 
 with his back against the adobe wall of the barr^ 
 began to speak a little feebly, yet with much 
 meaning. 
 
 Many hearts swelled with sympathy at the sight 
 of the strong young man in his weakness and 
 pain. 
 
 " I shall not make a long address," he began, 
 " for there is not much to say. There is no need 
 to recount to any the events of the past few 
 days. Many doubtless, know much more about 
 them than I do." Some heads sank lower as he 
 paused for a moment. " This is not a court of jus- 
 tice," he continued ; " nor am I your judge. You 
 have a greater than I who will make wiser judg- 
 ment of the crimes committed here last Sunday 
 night, than I could do. Of course, I know cer- 
 tain ones among you who are my friends, and I 
 am aware that there are others who are entirely 
 guiltless of any share in what has been done. It 
 would not be difficult to call the names of those 
 who were foremost in the affair, after their leaders, 
 
 w
 
 33$ A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 Padre Esteban and Don Gregorio. I could even 
 go among you now, I have little doubt, and lay 
 my finger here and there, upon such and such a 
 man and say, ' This man, perhaps, was my father's 
 murderer, for he was among the others, and no 
 one knows that it was not his stone which struck 
 him down.' I shall not do this, however. As 
 you may know, the mayor of La Providencia has 
 been notified of your doings, and his men will be 
 among us to-morrow, perhaps, as they have not 
 come to-day. What you do not know is that I 
 shall not aid them in their search for the crimi- 
 nals, further than to state the simple facts of the 
 case, as I shall swear to no names. You must look 
 out for yourselves ! " 
 
 "Ah, our good Jose", our kind Jose" ! " exclaimed 
 several women's voices. 
 
 " No ! " he cried sternly and hoarsely. " Do 
 you think, men, that I would stand in the way 
 of justice being done to the real criminals, those 
 cowards, Gregorio Nunez and Esteban Lopez ? 
 The first is in the hands of God's justice now, and 
 we could add nothing to his punishment. That 
 same Hand will be over the movements of the 
 priest Esteban, on whichever side of the Rio 
 Grande he may be found. But, I am willing to 
 give you all a chance to prove your sorrow for the 
 calamities you have caused, and to prove your real 
 fidelity to us, which has never before failed. My 
 friends," Jose* was softening now, and the red
 
 THE CONFERENCE AT THE BARN. 339 
 
 flush died out of his cheeks, and left them very 
 pale, "I hope we understand each other now, and 
 that we shall begin all over again our lives to- 
 gether. There must be peace among us, or we 
 shall end our days in remorse and unhappiness. 
 Each one shall worship God according to his own 
 conscience, but this shall not prevent us who 
 think differently in this matter from many of you, 
 from trying to persuade you to know the truth 
 as it is in Jesus. What do you say, men and 
 women?" He paused breathless, and drank 
 eagerly from the glass of water which Mr. 
 Richards put to his lips. He shook his head, 
 however, when the latter advised him to rest 
 awhile before continuing his speech. 
 
 One man stood out from the rest, and with real 
 humility of manner replied to Jose's last appeal : 
 "We have been talking and thinking about this 
 matter of religion, Don Jose*, and most of us have 
 agreed, since Sunday night, that every man has a 
 right to think for himself in this, and to accept 
 or reject this new doctrine which the Americanos 
 have brought to us, and that each one has an equal 
 right to preach and teach what he thinks is the 
 truth. Am I right, fellows ? " he asked, turning 
 around upon the crowd of listening faces. This 
 man was Diego, who had already spoken with Jose*. 
 '' Yes, yes ! " came from many of the men, and 
 from a few of the women, while all looked 
 amenable to reason, if only a few spoke.
 
 34 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 " And we'll take care of all those who want to 
 interfere with the Sefiorita Maria in her work," 
 said the deep voice of a man, who stood a little 
 away from the groups, and had been looking with 
 thoughtful sadness upon the black-robed figures 
 of Petra and Dona Raquel. 
 
 All eyes turned in amazement toward the point 
 from which the voice proceeded. 
 
 " Don Daniel Vera ! " whispered Miss Summers 
 to Roger Douglas, who stood at her side. " Dona 
 Rosa's husband, and I suppose this is the first 
 time he has ever raised his voice contrary to his 
 wife's opinions ! " 
 
 " Thank you, brother," returned Jose", with a 
 grave smile, " and thank you too, friends. Now, I 
 have something else to tell you, and I beg you to 
 hear me to the end, before forming your decision 
 upon my proposal to you. You all know the his- 
 tory of the unfinished chapel over there," pointing 
 to the gray walls showing through a gap in the 
 houses. " We have now decided to complete the 
 building immediately, and to dedicate it to the 
 worship of our Lord Jesus Christ. It will require 
 some pulling down and rebuilding before the work 
 can be much advanced," he continued, not 
 heeding the glances of mingled interest and con- 
 sternation exchanged among his hearers; "but 
 with a large force of workmen in this beautiful 
 weather, I think the church will be ready for use 
 by Easter. Now, hear my proposal : every man
 
 THE CONFERENCE AT THE BARN. 341 
 
 of you who is willing to help us go on with the 
 work will receive the usual wages per day. You 
 will thus be helping to support your families, 
 while there is little to be done in the fields, and 
 you will give good proofs of your friendship for 
 me in aiding me in this. Those who are willing 
 to go to work to-morrow on the chapel walls, may 
 raise their right hands to signify their assent, and 
 then after Mr. Richards has spoken a few words to 
 you, I hope you will come up one by one, here to 
 Senor Douglas, who will enroll your names for 
 me in my book, so that I may know on whom I 
 may depend for the work. I do not wish to send 
 
 to S for masons and carpenters, friends. 
 
 Now!" 
 
 Every one raised his hand at the same instant, 
 for Jose's mild, yet stirring words had bred an 
 enthusiasm in every breast, not for the religion 
 which Jose represented, but for Jose' himself, 
 whom every one in the ranch admired and loved. 
 
 Jose" bowed his head in gratified recognition of 
 the demonstration, and then sank half exhausted 
 to his seat. 
 
 There was not the cheering that there would 
 have been but for the peculiar circumstances 
 attending the case, but animation beamed from 
 every eye, and a feeling of content filled many a 
 heart at this opportunity for reinstatement in their 
 friend's good graces. 
 
 Then Mr. Richards stepped forward and ad-
 
 342 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 dressed them in a few simple words, closing 
 with : 
 
 " It is growing late now, and there is but one 
 thing more I wish to tell you before you come to 
 give your names to Senor Douglas here. There 
 will be a short prayer meeting in Dona Raquel's 
 sala to-night at eight o'clock. She wishes to 
 invite all of you to be present." 
 
 With this the conference ended to the satisfac- 
 tion of most who had attended. Of course there 
 were still left those who would give only hand 
 not heart service in the building undertaken by 
 them, and there were some dissatisfied spirits 
 turning restlessly upon hard beds that night ; but 
 a general spirit of peace was diffused through the 
 ranch and many firm resolves were made for future 
 good behavior. 
 
 The prayer meeting at night was well attended, 
 and though there were neither hymn books nor 
 organ, the singing was very full and sweet. The 
 tears flowed from Dona Raquel's eyes as she and 
 Petra stood with the rest of the newly baptized 
 members to receive the hand of fellowship given 
 by Mr. Richards first, and then by all the other 
 members of the little church. 
 
 As Miss Summers lightly touched Josh's right 
 hand, as it half rested in the sling, she noticed an 
 expression of deep melancholy in his eyes which 
 she could not understand. 
 
 As the congregation dispersed at the end of the
 
 THE CONFERENCE AT THE BARN. 343 
 
 service, he came over to her side and begged that 
 he might speak with her a few moments in private. 
 She knew that only great necessity could induce 
 Jose to make such a request now, so she willingly 
 assented and invited him to come to her room. 
 When the court was emptied at last Jose" followed 
 her, then began to speak abruptly, still standing. 
 
 " Sit down, Jose, ' ' she said. ' ' I know that you 
 must be fatigued. Is your arm troubling you ? I 
 feared it would be worse after the excitement of 
 to-day." 
 
 "Yes, it is very painful, I believe," then he 
 laughed slightly ; ' ' rather, I know it is. But it is 
 not of that I wish to speak to you. I have come 
 to you because I think you will understand me 
 better than any one else. Senorita, I am a hypo- 
 crite, and I had no right to stand there to-night 
 and be received .into the fellowship of the 
 church. 
 
 " What can you mean, Jose* ? " Mary asked, 
 kindly. She saw that he was suppressing some 
 excitement under a forced quiet of tone. 
 
 "I mean that I cannot forgive that coward 
 Esteban for the ruin he has brought to us," he re- 
 plied, fiercely. " And is that the way a Christian 
 ought to feel? " 
 
 " No," Mary replied, gently. " You know our 
 Master's will about our enemies. He prayed for 
 his when they had done all they could, taking 
 from him his reputation and then his life."
 
 344 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 " But I am not God, and I cannot act as God 
 does." 
 
 "Can you pray for this priest, Jose*?" Mary 
 asked. " Do you not wish that he may repent of 
 his wickedness and become converted ! " 
 
 " Yes," Jose replied, slowly, u I suppose I could 
 pray for him. I would not wish the fellow to die 
 as he is, I am sure. But that is not the trouble ; I 
 ought to forgive him whether he repents or not. 
 As a Christian, I ought to feel toward him as I did 
 before I found him to be the rascal he is, but I 
 cannot. ' ' 
 
 " Does God do so? Does he forgive the sinner, 
 before he shows some sign of repentance and 
 desire for reinstatement ? I think not, Jose* ; and I 
 do not believe that we are called upon to do more 
 than God does in the matter of forgiveness." 
 
 " Do you think then, senorita, that I need not 
 try and forgive him ? " 
 
 "You must try to forgive him, Jose*, in so far 
 that you will be able to pray that God will change 
 his heart, and that he may be brought to ask for- 
 giveness from God ; you must get rid of your 
 anger against him, and learn to think of him with 
 calmness and with a desire to help him to be a 
 better man, if an opportunity shall present itself. 
 The Bible is very clear on this point I think, and 
 I believe that this is what is meant by ' Forgive 
 your enemies.' As to the reinstatement of the man 
 into his former position in your esteem, before your
 
 THE CONFERENCE *AT THE BARN. 345 
 
 eyes were opened to his character, that is as yet 
 an impossibility, and is not required of you. Per- 
 haps, however, you would better talk with Mr. 
 Richards about it, as I do not wish to mislead you, 
 and it is a difficult subject." 
 
 ' Thank you, senorita, for what you have said, 
 and I do not need to speak to Mr. Richards. You 
 have made it clearer already. I do want to do 
 what is right, and I shall try to feel differently 
 about the fellow. ' ' 
 
 " And God will surely help you to a right for- 
 giveness of him in time, Jose, if you will ask him 
 to do so, and if you will be very careful to cast out 
 all the ill will that you have felt for him." 
 
 " I shall indeed try to do so. I do not know 
 how I can ever thank you for the help you have 
 always given me, senorita," he added, as he arose 
 to go. ' ' You are going away to-morrow, and it 
 may be a long while before you return, and we 
 shall miss you at every step ; but I, for one, shall 
 try to do my best, remembering you." 
 
 " And Jose," Mary began, after hesitating a mo- 
 ment, " I want you to help me about something." 
 " Only tell me what it is, senorita." 
 " I am leaving my Refugio, you know, with 
 Petra. She will be good to her ; but I want you 
 for a kind of elder brother for her, who will watch 
 over her a little. She is a woman now, though 
 she is so small, and already one or two young 
 fellows have begun to . "
 
 346 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 " You may trust her to me, senorita," Jose* ex- 
 claimed, hastily ; "no one shall speak with her 
 while you are gone. You may trust me." 
 
 " I do not mean for you to go as far as that," 
 and Mary smiled into his earnest face ; "just watch 
 over her a little. I know she will give you no 
 trouble, as she is a sweet, docile child." 
 
 They parted then, and Mary called Refugio to 
 help her pack her small trunk for the journey next 
 day; for Mr. Richards had at length prevailed 
 upon her to give the children- a longer vacation 
 
 and to return with him to S , for the Christmas 
 
 holidays at least. She was not consciously ill, but 
 even her strong health was suffering from the long 
 strain of nursing and excitement, and her sleep 
 had grown fitful, while her appetite had vanished, 
 and at length all urged her to yield to Mr. Richards' 
 advice. So she and Refugio had their last even- 
 ing chat together for several weeks, and many 
 bright tears were folded away within the beloved 
 senorita's dresses, as Refugio laid them in the 
 trunk. 
 
 The same evening Mr. Richards made the hearts 
 of the Vera family glad by the promise of a per- 
 manent pastor from among the mission circle at 
 
 S for the little church, as soon as the new 
 
 building should be completed, and he communi- 
 cated to them Miss Summers' wish to give the 
 sum necessary for building a comfortable little 
 parsonage near the church.
 
 THE CONFERENCE AT THE BARN. 347 
 
 "She wishes me to say, however," continued 
 Mr. -Richards, "that she would like to continue 
 living with you as long'as you have room foi 
 
 her, whoever may come here from S as pastor. 
 
 She will be happier with you." 
 
 v{ God grant that she may live under my roof 
 all her life ! " said Raquel, fervently. And Petra's 
 contented expression at the news found a reflection 
 in Jose's expressive countenance. Content and 
 peace had returned to his heart, and the mission- 
 ary wondered at the new beauty, which Refugio 
 had already noticed. 
 
 He then expressed to them his intention of send- 
 ing immediately a faithful and experienced native 
 worker, who should live among them, and keep 
 the little flock together and minister to its needs. 
 
 " Mother is anxious that we should have a 
 prayer service here every night, senor," Jose* said, 
 as they were separating. " It may be that while 
 the people are a little softened there may be some 
 impression for good made upon them. Just 
 among the brethren of the church we might carry 
 on the services for a week or so, until help comes. " 
 
 There were many thankful hearts that night in 
 the ranch, as the moon shed her soft light over the 
 plain, and sleep was sounder and sweeter than for 
 many nights past.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 FROM THE RANCH TO THE CITY. 
 
 I rejoice in being exactly what I am a creature capable of loving 
 God, and who, as long as God lives, must be happy. I get up and 
 look for a while out of the window, and gaze at the moon and stars, 
 the work of an Almighty hand. I think of the grandeur of the uni- 
 verse, and then sit down and think myself one of the happiest beings 
 in it. A poor Methodist -woman, eighteenth century. 
 
 HTHB diligence between La Providencia and 
 
 -I S , always put up for the night at San 
 
 Bernabe", and continued its way the next day 
 
 toward S , where it arrived before midnight. 
 
 As this diligence was apt to be crowded with 
 rancheros, and as it was a most uncomfortable and 
 dirty vehicle, Mr. Richards had arranged with 
 
 Jose that they should be sent to S in the Vera 
 
 coach, drawn by four stout mules. 
 
 The eastern sky still showed no signs of day- 
 break, and the stars were brightly shining, when 
 the last farewells were said the next morning, and 
 Mary was lifted into the high, old-fashioned coach 
 by two pairs of strong arms. The two gentlemen 
 followed her, the coach door was closed with a 
 sharp bang, the driver cracked his long whip, the 
 mules clattered their hoofs upon the paving stones 
 of the court, the wide gates were held open, and 
 348
 
 FROM THE RANCH TO THE CITY. 349 
 
 the coach was driven with a flourish through the 
 street and out upon the prairie road. Early as it 
 was, many of the ranch people had risen to 
 "speed their parting guests," and the coach pro- 
 ceeded amid cheers and hearty adios ! 
 
 Petra had arranged the back seat of the coach 
 with pillows and shawls, and Miss Summers, more 
 willingly than she would have owned, yielded to 
 Mr. Richards' commands and snuggled down to 
 rest again, as soon as they had left the ranch be- 
 hind them. 
 
 The weird light of the " wee sina' hours " rested 
 over mountain and plain, and the cool dews of the 
 night held in check the heavy, white dust of the 
 road. The air was so cold that it was necessary 
 to close the window on one side of the coach, and 
 the three occupants were well wrapped in cloaks 
 and shawls. The driver and another man with 
 him on the box were muffled in red blankets up 
 to their ears, and thus, in perfect silence for the 
 first hour or two, they proceeded at a rapid trot 
 along the level road. 
 
 Mr. Richards nodded and dozed in his corner, 
 for he was too much accustomed to rough journey- 
 ings by night and day to be easily deprived of his 
 morning nap, when given the slightest oppor- 
 tunity for indulging in one. Roger Douglas, at 
 his side, soon followed his example and slept 
 sweetly, with his head resting in the corner against 
 the cushioned back of the seat.
 
 350 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 For a long while the young teacher lay wide 
 awake, utterly peaceful and at rest. She realized 
 that there was to be no more responsibility upon 
 her shoulders for several weeks, and her tired 
 frame yielded to the delicious sense of restfulness 
 caused by this remembrance. There was nothing 
 to be seen from her pillow but the multitude of 
 stars in the dark sky and the far-away dim outline 
 of the mountain peaks in the east. Then the 
 morning star slowly descended within her horizon 
 and beamed upon her through the coach window, 
 fading gradually before the coming light of day. 
 Refugio, Petra, Jose", the ranch, her companions 
 in the coach, all, little by little, slipped away out 
 of her memory, a mistiness seemed to gather about 
 the world outside, framed by the little square win- 
 dow in the coach door, and then she fell asleep. 
 
 When Roger Douglas, an hour or two later, re- 
 covered himself after an unusually hard bump 
 against his corner, he was surprised to find that he 
 had been asleep. The birds and prairie dogs were 
 awake and busy about their morning occupations, 
 and a clear, rosy light flooded the sky and plain. 
 Mr. Richards still nodded and shifted his head un- 
 comfortably, yet still dreamed on. 
 
 Mr. Douglas started with wonder and delight 
 as he let his gaze return to Miss Summers and 
 rest there where she lay quietly sleeping in front 
 of him. A sudden turn in the road had brought 
 her face to face with the pink glow in the east,
 
 FROM THE RANCH TO THE CITY. 35! 
 
 and her face was bathed in the lovely light of the 
 morning sky. A tender, unearthly beauty illu- 
 mined her features, which had grown thin and 
 sharp during the anxieties of the past days and 
 nights, and Roger could not take his eyes from her 
 face, while a deep tenderness filled his heart as he 
 watched her in her helpless unconsciousness. 
 
 Another lurch of the vehicle roused the two 
 sleepers, however, and the sleep thus roughly ban- 
 ished returned no more. They straightened them- 
 selves, laughing, and Mary begged to be allowed 
 to sit up. Then all found themselves very hungry, 
 and on inquiry, Mr. Richards learned from the 
 driver that half an hour more would bring them 
 to a spring in a sheltered place where a fire might 
 be kindled. 
 
 They were skirting the hills now, and before 
 they reached the spring, the road had begun to 
 ascend, entering the pass through the mountains. 
 The sun was streaming over the tree tops crown- 
 ing the mountains, when the coach stopped and 
 the driver opened the door. There in the canon, 
 however, it was still cold and dusky, and the fire 
 hastily kindled by the two serving men was very 
 agreeable to the chilled and cramped passengers 
 when they alighted and stood warming their hands 
 and feet at the cheery blaze. Dried mesquite 
 branches and roots made a red-hot mass of coals 
 after the blaze of the lighter wood had died out, 
 and they gathered around their improvised hearth
 
 352 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 and ate toasted crackers and cheese and drank 
 milk, heated over the coals, until they were greatly 
 refreshed. 
 
 The scene around them was wild, and would 
 grow wilder as they advanced through the mount- 
 ains. Here and there patches of mountain pines 
 lifted their sturdy branches above the gray rock ; 
 but the mountains were mostly bare and rocky, 
 and the road through the canon was cut at the 
 foot of great rugged cliffs, while steep precipices 
 fell away on the other side below as the road 
 climbed higher and higher. On the other side of 
 the ridge the prairie rolled again, but it would be 
 evening before this level could be reached. 
 
 A little stream trickled down along its rocky 
 pathway from the icy summit above, and the 
 travelers, after eating, washed their hands and 
 faces in luxury in a little pool, whose edges were 
 fringed by the hardy mountain fern. 
 
 "We have the whole day before us," Mr. Rich- 
 ards remarked, as the lunch hamper was repacked 
 and they were about to re-enter the coach, ' ' and 
 as much of the night as we need. Suppose we 
 walk on a little, while the day is fresh and until 
 we are tired, then we shall enjoy riding so much 
 the more. Come, Miss Mary, are you equal to a 
 climb ? " 
 
 "Indeed I am," she replied. " I feel all made 
 over already." 
 
 So they left the coach behind, slowly and care-
 
 FROM THE RANCH TO THE CITY. 353 
 
 fully rounding the sharp turns as the road ascended, 
 and the three pedestrians stepped out briskly in 
 advance. For an hour or so they walked, until 
 the sun, risen higher now, poured down his light 
 and heat into the pass and they were glad to re- 
 enter the coach, which had passed them and stood 
 waiting for them at some distance ahead. 
 
 The forenoon passed pleasantly in the coach, 
 with singing of songs and hymns and a great deal 
 of talk, both serious and gay. Here and there, 
 where the road was narrowest and most difficult, 
 they passed rude crosses erected over a heap of 
 stones by the wayside, and Mr. Richards explained 
 that these marked the places of some murder when 
 robberies and murder had been rife through the 
 mountains only a few years before. 
 
 'The brigands are disappearing from the 
 mountain defiles now," he went on; "but even 
 now I should not like to ride alone in the night 
 along this deserted road. Here, quick!" he 
 added, thrusting his pistol into Mary's hand, 
 ' ' shoot ! There he is skulking behind that great 
 rock. Stop for a moment, driver." 
 
 Mary, greatly startled, and having not the least 
 idea of her intended prey, fired blindly ; the echo 
 from the pistol shot reverberated from side to side 
 of the ravine, which had opened wider at this 
 point, and the next instant they saw the lank, 
 yellow body of a wolf skulking behind the rocks 
 and bushes.
 
 354 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 " Shoot again ! Quick ! " Mr. Richards cried ; 
 and now with a steadier hand, Mary pulled the 
 trigger, and to her great astonishment the wolf 
 dropped dead, and caine tumbling down a short 
 way, and then was caught and held by the under- 
 brush. 
 
 One of the Mexicans ran to the spot, and after 
 a few moments returned to the coach window in 
 great glee, dragging the body of the great, gaunt 
 creature with both hands. 
 
 " She gave it to him right through the head, 
 senores," he cried, enthusiastically. " What a 
 wonder to see a senorita bring down a wolf ! ' ' 
 Mary shuddered at the sight of the ugly fangs 
 projecting from the grinning, bloody jaws, and 
 could not be induced to touch the bristling, tawny 
 skin of the beast. 
 
 "I shall have the hide tanned for you, Miss 
 Mary," Mr. Richards declared, "and you shall 
 use it in the schoolroom to keep your feet warm. 
 Take it away now," he added to the man, who 
 still stood grinning with approbation of the young 
 senorita's feat. 
 
 Man and wolf mounted to the front seat, and 
 they drove on again through the changing lights 
 and shadows of the way. 
 
 At noon they rested for an hour, after eating 
 dinner, and then they pushed on again. They 
 had begun the descent toward the plain on the 
 other side when a sudden, quick shower overtook
 
 FROM THE RANCH TO THE CITY. 355 
 
 them, while far below them the plains stretched 
 in unclouded sunshine. 
 
 By-and-by, as the shadows lengthened and 
 the ravine again grew dim in the fading afternoon 
 light, the road gradually neared the level of the 
 plain, until finally it brought them out upon the 
 open prairie. Here, driving was more comfort- 
 able, and the mules trotted swiftly, not away from 
 the mountains, but along the road skirting them, 
 for many miles. Once they crossed the same 
 river which Mary and Jose" had forded on their 
 way to L,a Providencia, and which had here found 
 the level plain. 
 
 The banks were green with water cress, and in 
 some shallow places the surface of the water was 
 entirely hidden by the tender green of the plant. 
 
 Nothing further occurred to break the monotony 
 of the journey, and night had long fallen over 
 mountain and plain when the coach began to 
 rattle past scattered adobe houses, and long, blank 
 walls of corral and orchard, in the suburbs of the 
 city of S . 
 
 Then with much needless cracking of the whip, 
 and at a headlong speed, they rushed over the 
 cobble-stones of the streets, and finally drew up 
 in front of the heavy iron gates of the mission 
 school for girls. 
 
 A month later, two figures strolled beneath the 
 gnarled old trees of the Alameda, or public wooded
 
 356 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 park of S , paused beside the brimming basin 
 
 of the fountain, and stood for a moment in earnest 
 conversation. 
 
 They were Mary Summers and Roger Douglas, 
 and she was just promising to be his wife. It was 
 the eve of her return to San Bernabe, and he could 
 no longer wait to tell her of the love that had 
 been in his heart since that evening when they 
 had first met underneath the flaring torchlight in 
 the market place of L<a Providencia. 
 
 u But you know, Mr. Douglas," she was saying, 
 as she drew off her glove and dipped her bare 
 fingers into the water, " I cannot leave my people 
 in San Bernabe*. I do not believe that my work 
 there is done." 
 
 " Nor do I," he replied, earnestly. "Will there 
 not be room for us both in San Bernabe"?" 
 
 "You will go there also?" she asked, in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 "Why, yes, if you do, my darling. But not 
 yet, of course," he added, hastily, as she shook her 
 head. "You have not then heard of Mr. Rich- 
 ards' plan ? It is not likely that he would have 
 spoken of it to you, as it concerns my own plans. 
 I am to be pastor of the San Bernabe church, Miss 
 Mary, and you are to be the pastor's wife. Do you 
 like our plan? " 
 
 But Mary would not answer that question just 
 then, and they turned from the fountain to wander 
 again down the long avenues.
 
 357 
 
 ' You have not yet told me what you think of 
 our plan," Roger persisted after a little; "and I 
 have been wondering if you approve of it, if you 
 would not rather that we should be married out 
 there, among your our people. Mr. Richards 
 and several of us have promised to go out to the 
 dedication of the church, you know. Will it be 
 too soon in April, dear? " 
 
 '* How many questions you ask ! " Mary said, 
 smiling into his eager hazel eyes. " And I am 
 sure that Mr. Richards knew that there was noth- 
 ing else to be done but to appoint you as pastor 
 of the church," she added, mischievously, "for 
 he knows that I would not leave those people ! " 
 
 "And will you be ready for me in April?" he 
 asked, anxiously. "Of course I shall see you 
 several times before then, for I shall run out occa- 
 sionally to see how the building is progressing." 
 
 " Do you not think that Jose* can attend to the 
 building, Mr. Douglas ? He is very energetic, 
 and a fine manager of his men." This was said 
 with more mischief still in the happy blue eyes. 
 
 " Yes, I do," Douglas replied. " So I shall go 
 only to see my dear love, if that will suit you 
 better ; and somehow the days will pass until April 
 comes ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 BEAUTY FOR ASHES. 
 
 What inexpressible joy for me ... to feel that even when the day 
 itself passes, I shall see that the night itself only unveils new worlds 
 of light ; and to know that if I could unwrap fold after fold of God's 
 universe, I should only unfold more and more blessing, and see 
 deeper and deeper into the love which is at the heart of all Elisa- 
 beth Charles. 
 
 months passed slowly, and even April came 
 -L and went before the San Bernabe church was 
 ready for use, although the weather continued 
 fine during most of the time and the work was 
 hindered very little on account of occasional 
 rains. 
 
 A snug little parsonage was also built near the 
 site of the old mission schoolhouse, and in conse- 
 quence of Miss Summers' plans, the plain adobe 
 cottage was made a little more comfortable and 
 convenient than the usual Mexican home. 
 
 The month of May passed with its hot winds 
 and storms of dust and sand from the prairie ; and 
 June came before everything was ready at the 
 ranch for the coach load of guests from S - , 
 who were expected to attend the dedication of the 
 church. 
 
 One Friday afternoon late in June, the church 
 353
 
 BEAUTY FOR ASHES. 359 
 
 stood all complete, a gleaming white landmark in 
 the midst of the green plain. In the stone tower, 
 at one corner, a sweet-toned bell was hung, a 
 present that had come from several children's 
 societies in "the States." Its voice had not yet 
 been heard, for its first stroke was to be sounded 
 at ten o'clock the next morning to invite all the 
 ranch to the dedication services. A new organ, 
 also silent, was within the walls, and only the soft 
 voices of the evening world outside were heard in 
 the quiet place as Jose", a short while before the 
 coach was expected, closed and locked the great 
 double doors in the tower. 
 
 He hurried along the broad path that had been 
 opened from the ranch to the church doors, and 
 mounted his gray horse which Antonio held ready 
 saddled and bridled for him in the road. He was 
 to ride out upon the plain and meet the company 
 of guests and accompany them to the house. 
 
 There was still no sign of the coach upon the 
 long stretch of road beyond when Mary, Petra, 
 and Refugio came out of the Vera court and 
 shaded their eyes from the sunlight, as they 
 scanned the road in vain. 
 
 ' ' It has been so hot to-day, Mariquita, that they 
 must have rested all the middle of the day and 
 will come on in the cool of the evening," Petra 
 said, enjoying Mary's eagerness and the flush of 
 her cheek. 
 
 Every one knew before now for whom the pretty
 
 360 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 cream-colored cottage was intended, though no 
 one, except the immediate Vera family, knew just 
 when their loved sefiorita was to become their no 
 less beloved senora. 
 
 " To think that we made the trip in one day," 
 grumbled Mary, to herself, in English, smiling, 
 however ; " and those lazy folks must needs take 
 two days for it, and a night besides ! Camping 
 out is fun, sometimes, but I know that / should 
 not wait for a coach full of dawdlers if I had a 
 horse and could ride " 
 
 " See that horse coming flying toward us," Re- 
 fugio exclaimed ; " what a cloud of dust he is 
 bringing along with him ! It cannot be Don Jose 
 returning." 
 
 It was not Jose* ; and Petra and Refugio re- 
 turned alone to the house, leading a weary and 
 dusty horse, while Mary and the horse's rider 
 followed at a little distance. 
 
 The next day, when the first clear notes of the 
 chapel's bell sounded an invitation and a welcome 
 to all within hearing of its ringing tones, the 
 whole ranch began to empty itself, and groups of 
 men, women, and children hurried through the 
 heat to the cool shade within the chapel walls. 
 
 There was room for all who came inside, while 
 many hovered about the door and windows who 
 were not willing to enter. 
 
 Dona Isabel, with Angela, occupied one of the 
 front seats with Raquel and her household. Mar-
 
 BEAUTY FOR ASHES. 361 
 
 tina was there, with the sad-faced Luisa at her 
 side, both grieving in their hearts over the loss of 
 their boys, yet filled with a joy that sorrow could 
 not take away. 
 
 The school children had been trained by their 
 teacher to sing a song of welcome to the congre- 
 gation, and their young voices filled the little 
 church with melody. Then followed other hymns 
 and several addresses from the missionaries pres- 
 ent, and just when the many little ones present 
 were beginning to grow restive, Mr. Richards 
 brought the services to a close, with the announce- 
 ment that the new pastor of the church, their 
 friend Mr. Douglas, would be formally presented 
 to them at the evening service. 
 
 Then, when all were expecting the benediction, 
 he stepped quietly down from the little pulpit, and 
 stood for a moment on the lowest step, while Miss 
 Summers left her place at the organ and was 
 joined by Roger Douglas amid an intense silence. 
 They stood before the minister, and were quietly 
 married, while the audience stared in open-eyed 
 astonishment. Then Mr. Richards, in a trembling 
 voice, called for a blessing from God upon the 
 little church, which had again found a home, and 
 upon the two who were to be the shepherds of the 
 little flock, and who had just been made one. 
 
 With joyful hearts the whole congregation 
 escorted the bridegroom and his bride along the 
 road to the little parsonage, after the services were
 
 362 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 concluded, and the rest of the day was given up to 
 a quiet enjoyment of a holiday. 
 
 launch was served for the missionaries in Mrs. 
 Douglas' bright little dining room, and a prettier 
 hostess and happier host were never seen. 
 
 During the afternoon, while all sat merrily 
 talking in the sala, Refugio came in and whispered 
 to the bride that old Juana's grandchild, the poor, 
 diseased boy, was dying, and that the woman 
 begged that the young missionary should be sent 
 for. The old crone had grown very feeble during 
 the past months, and Miss Summers had gone to 
 see her often, as she lay in her miserable hut upon 
 a sack filled with straw. Her hatred for the young 
 missionary had slowly disappeared before the con- 
 stant acts of kindness she had been able to show 
 her in her sickness, and she was as eager now for 
 her visits as she had before opposed them. 
 
 Slipping away from her friends, the happy 
 young missionary hurried to the house where the 
 miserable little life of the sick child was fast going 
 out. She knew that nothing better could come to 
 the idiot boy than the end that was approaching, 
 yet she sympathized with the helpless old woman's 
 distress over her grandchild, who was the only 
 creature left to love her in her unlovable old age. 
 
 She stayed with her until the last struggle on the 
 little pallet was over, and the small shrunken body 
 lay still. She talked with the weeping grand- 
 mother, and tried to gently lead her to the com-
 
 BEAUTY FOR ASHES. 363 
 
 forts offered by the gospel to just such forsaken 
 creatures as she was, but it was difficult to know 
 whether any effect was produced upon the aged 
 mind and heart. She had to leave her, finally, 
 and return to her husband. 
 
 Again the bell rang out upon the summer air, 
 and again the church filled with people, who 
 listened with intense attention to the words of the 
 gospel preached to them. 
 
 The next day was the Lord's Day, and Mr. 
 Douglas himself preached to his people. What 
 matter if his words were brief and halting, in the 
 strange, difficult tongue, when his heart was full 
 to overflowing with love for God and for his hear- 
 ers ? They understood what he tried to say, and 
 they loved him for his brave earnestness. 
 
 Angela Vera had come, long before, according 
 to Isabel's promise, to spend a while with her 
 friend, now Mrs. Douglas, as soon as she was able 
 to leave home, and the latter was touched at the 
 deep affection the girl showed for her. The old 
 bright, vivid beauty had not returned, but there 
 was a sweet earnestness impressed upon her face 
 which made it more attractive than before, 
 and Mary often wondered how Jose could 
 resist her new charms. But when she saw that 
 Angela could not forget that Jose* had once seemed 
 to care for her, and that the color was not returning 
 to her cheeks, she had begged Dona Isabel to let 
 her daughter go for a year or two to the college in
 
 364 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 S . There she could study music, and learn 
 
 that there were many things in the world for an 
 earnest woman's heart and hands to do. 
 
 So, when the party returned to S after the 
 
 dedication, Angela went with them. 
 
 The new pastor was soon second only to his 
 wife in the hearts of his people, and his upright 
 Christian life made a deep impression for good 
 upon those also who were not yet of the "fold." 
 
 One evening, when the young teacher had been 
 married several weeks, she was sitting in her airy 
 hallway, waiting tea for her husband, who had 
 gone to visit the church- members living in El 
 Porvenir. She was sewing busily, and singing as 
 she sewed. Refugio was away, and she was 
 beginning to feel a little lonely, when she looked 
 up and saw Jose standing at the door. He entered 
 at her invitation, and began frankly to tell her the 
 object of his visit as soon as he was seated. 
 
 u Have I taken good care of Refugio, for you, 
 senorita?" he asked. " All these months I have 
 not forgotten that I was her elder brother, and I 
 have kept off many a bold fellow from speaking 
 with her. Have I done right in watching over 
 her?" 
 
 " Quite right, Jose"," Mary replied. " I knew 
 that I could trust you ! ' ' 
 
 "How far can you trust me, senorita?" he 
 questioned. " I am tired of being ' elder brother '
 
 BEAUTY FOR ASHES. 365 
 
 now, and I have come to ask you to give her to 
 me for my wife. You must know that I love her, 
 even though once I was well, a little crazed I 
 think." He blushed and looked away from his 
 friend's smiling face. 
 
 ' You may have her, Jose", for I know that you 
 love each other. God bless you both. But you 
 must wait a year or two, my friend, for Refugio is 
 young yet, only seventeen, and she has many 
 things yet to learn before she should become a 
 wife." 
 
 " I shall wait as long as you wish, senorita, if 
 only 1 know that she is to be mine," he replied ; 
 and then begged that he might go to find Refugio, 
 and tell her of his love.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 A GARDEN OF GIRLS. 
 
 Behind us, behind each one of us, lie six thousand years of 
 human effort, human conquest ; before us, is the boundless Time with 
 its as yet uncreated and unconquered continents and El Dorados, 
 which we, even we, have to conquer, to create ; and from the bosom 
 of Eternity there shine for us celestial guiding stars. Thomas 
 Carlyle. 
 
 'THOUGH it was on a hot June day when the 
 
 J- coach containing Angela and her traveling 
 
 companions drew up before the gate of the college 
 
 in S , the building and corridors were swarming 
 
 with girls. In North Mexico, where the houses 
 are chilly with their stone floors and unglazed 
 windows, and the winters are cold, vacation is 
 given during this season in the mission schools ; 
 and December and January are selected as the 
 vacation months, when the empty schoolrooms 
 and dormitories are given over to the chill damp- 
 ness and sweeping draughts of wintry winds. 
 
 Work goes on all during the summer with ease, 
 for although the sun is hot outside, within the 
 thick walls of the Mexican houses the air is cool 
 and pleasant. 
 
 So the school work was just at its busiest when 
 Angela entered the broad corridors of the college 
 366
 
 ANGELA. 
 
 Page 3C7.
 
 A GARDEN OF GIRLS. 367 
 
 for the first time, and took her place among the 
 busy workers laboring there. 
 
 The situation of this mission college was a little 
 unique, for it occupied a square all to itself, near 
 the heart of the city, being surrounded on four 
 sides by as many streets. The great iron gates of 
 the hallway opened out upon a little green garden 
 shaded by umbrella trees, and surrounded by a 
 high iron railing. There were walks in the gar- 
 den and plots of grass, and rose trees here and 
 there. This garden was entered from the street 
 by a narrow gate on each side. 
 
 As Angela entered the iron gates of the build- 
 ing, and followed the ladies and gentlemen who 
 had brought her from San Bernabe, into the inner 
 courtyard, she was almost overwhelmed by the 
 vociferous welcome given them by at least fifty 
 noisy throats inside. 
 
 As the garden outside was too public for the 
 mission pupils to use as a playground, the great 
 inner court and the arched corridors surrounding 
 it were always given up to the girls for their 
 sports and promenade. 
 
 Soon, therefore, Angela found herself sur- 
 rounded by a laughing group of girls of about her 
 own age, all of whom seemed to speak at once, 
 and she was quite bewildered, until one of the 
 teachers came to her rescue and carried her off to 
 her own room. 
 
 Presently a gentle-looking child came for
 
 368 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 Angela, and led her to a long dim dormitory 
 lighted only by the doors opening upon the corri- 
 dor and containing eight little beds. 
 
 "The Senorita Berta says that you may sleep 
 next to me, as there is a vacant bed here," said 
 the child ; " and I will help you arrange your 
 things when the man brings in your trunk." 
 
 When night fell at last over the little commu- 
 nity securely shut within its stone walls, and the 
 bell for darkness and quiet had ceased its rever- 
 berations along the empty corridors, Angela lay 
 down upon her narrow bed, beside that of the 
 friendly little Luz. 
 
 She had much to think about, but long before 
 the loud whisperings from the neighboring beds 
 were hushed in sleep, she herself had traveled far 
 into dreamland. 
 
 The days passed swiftly after the first week or 
 two of dreary homesickness. Surely no girls are 
 more friendly and sympathetic than Mexican 
 schoolgirls, and it was not long before Angela 
 was adopted by one of her own age as "bosom 
 friend." 
 
 Her firm friend, Mrs. Douglas, had written 
 from San Bernabe" to Miss Berta Shaw, the princi- 
 pal of the school, entrusting Angela to her warm, 
 motherly heart ; and the girl was examined by 
 the teachers without delay during the first week, 
 and assigned a place in the schoolroom. 
 
 The strict regulations of school life were at
 
 A GARDEN OF GIRLS. 369 
 
 first irksome to Angela, who had hitherto been as 
 free as a wild bird in her own father's house. Her 
 school days in her mountain home had ended long 
 ago, and it was hard to come back to books and 
 slates. But when she found that the friend of her 
 heart was already studying English, and could 
 even speak it intelligibly, and that the black- 
 board and globe exercises were like so many inter- 
 esting games, she became reconciled to study, and 
 before long ceased to murmur at her own low 
 place in her classes. Music, even in its rudiments, 
 was her chief joy, and she practised with almost 
 a feverish iutentness. 
 
 No one could understand so well as Mary the 
 following letter, received from the principal of 
 the college, written three months after Angela's 
 entrance : 
 
 " Now that you have heard all of the harmless 
 bits of gossip about our little mission family here, 
 you will wish to hear about your girl, Angela 
 Vera. In some respects, I find her one of the most 
 interesting characters we have ever had to study 
 here. She is an impulsive, warm-hearted child, 
 not especially fond of books, yet passionately de- 
 voted to the piano. Her teachers in the other 
 branches complain of listlessness occasionally in 
 the schoolroom, and grow impatient over her 
 'far-seeing gaze,' as one expresses it, when her 
 eyes should be fixed upon her geography or his- 
 tory. From what you have hinted to me, I think
 
 370 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 I can understand something of this absent-mind- 
 edness, and I believe that it will eventually pass 
 away, after a long absence from San Bernabe. 
 On this account I think it would be well, if her 
 parents consent, to leave her here with me during 
 the vacation. She will be carefully shielded from 
 all evil influences, as you know, and will become 
 weaned from her fancy for your friend. Already 
 she seems much happier than when she first ar- 
 rived, and you may rest assured that I have laid 
 to heart your letter of counsel with respect to 
 Angela. She comes to me with her difficulties as 
 naturally as a child to its mother, and I am glad 
 to tell you that all of the ill effects of her sick- 
 ness have disappeared. She is still somewhat 
 thin, but her color is good and her skin smooth 
 again. I think she has no idea how lovely are 
 her short, silky rings of black hair, as she will 
 never let herself be seen out of bed without her 
 rebozo wound tightly about her head. 
 
 " You ask about her religious impressions, but 
 I have no good news for you on that point. You 
 know how hard it is to impress these girls with a 
 reverence for the Bible. Angela attends chapel 
 service morning and night, of course, with the 
 other girls, and she is in my class in Sunday- 
 school. I hope that before she leaves us, her 
 heart may be touched by the Spirit of truth. We 
 can have faith, and can work and pray, and call 
 do no more."
 
 A GARDEN OF GIRI<S. 37! 
 
 One pleasant November afternoon, near the close 
 of Angela's first session at college, the whole school 
 was out for its weekly stroll to the old Alameda. 
 
 The long, double file of girls walked briskly 
 through the streets from the college to the grove 
 with all their accustomed gayety, and many a 
 passer-by turned his head to catch a second glimpse 
 of the bright-faced column of neatly dressed 
 maidens. A teacher headed this long column of 
 over a hundred, the day scholars being included 
 in this weekly walk, and the principal brought 
 up the rear. Every girl was bareheaded, and 
 their little high-heeled shoes tapped lightly upon 
 the rough cobble-stones. Two or three vendors 
 of sweets trotted behind the ranks, carrying trays 
 of candies and sweet buns and fruit, and all eagerly 
 hastened toward the shade of the beautiful "trees 
 of the Alameda. This ancient grove lies just on 
 the western edge of the city, near the suburban 
 orchards and private gardens, and it was a relief 
 to leave the rough-paved street and enter the 
 cleanly swept avenues. Here the dust was laid 
 by the hand-sprinkling of the water-carriers. Old, 
 crumbling stone benches were built here and there 
 under the trees, and in the center of the park there 
 was an immense fountain basin with its rippling 
 surface of water, like a miniature lake. The 
 large open space around the basin was paved and 
 surrounded by the stone seats, and this space was 
 called the glorietta.
 
 372 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 Toward the glorietta the teachers and girls pro- 
 ceeded, and here they disbanded in the midst of 
 merry shouts and laughter. The teachers sank to 
 rest upon the stone seats, and the vendors began 
 to drive a lively trade over their wares. There 
 was scarcely a girl who had not at least a cuartilla 
 (three cents) to spend. By-and-by, the grove 
 echoed from side to side with noisy games, while 
 here and there the quieter, older girls strolled by 
 twos and threes for cosy chats in some retired 
 corner. There was no danger from this license 
 given them, for the eyes of the teachers were 
 sharp, and they had only to guard against any 
 clandestine meetings or words between their flock 
 and the students of the State College. These 
 young gentlemen usually selected the afternoon 
 of the girls' walk for their own promenade in the 
 Alameda, and here and there down the avenues 
 could be seen groups of black coats, as well as 
 those more gayly colored, moving hither and 
 thither. 
 
 The hour of recreation was drawing to a close 
 when the principal's sharp eyes detected a couple 
 of girls seated on a far-away bench, with a tall 
 figure in the gown of a priest, standing before 
 them. She was on her feet in an instant and 
 walking hastily toward them. The girls were 
 Angela Vera and her friend Arcadia, and both 
 came hastily toward her as she approached, while 
 the priest hurried away in an opposite direction.
 
 A GARDEN OF GIRLS. 373 
 
 Angela's face was livid as she met Miss Shaw, and 
 her lips moved helplessly without the sound of a 
 word. Arcadia held her hand and was drawing 
 her hastily along. 
 
 " Senorita Berta," she exclaimed, in a frightened 
 whisper, "let us go quickly. See how he has 
 frightened Angelita. I do not know what he said, 
 for he whispered into her ear, but Angela will tell 
 you. Dearest Angelita, do not look so," she en- 
 treated ; "he is gone indeed I see him nowhere 
 at all now." 
 
 Miss Shaw led them both to a seat, but soon 
 found that she could get nothing from Angela in 
 explanation of her fright. The girl's teeth chat- 
 tered and she began to sob when Miss Shaw 
 pressed her to answer her questions. She could 
 only learn from Arcadia that the priest had passed 
 them as they sat talking together, and that he had 
 seemed to recognize Angela, had returned toward 
 them, and had bent and whispered a few words 
 into Angela's ear before moving on again. 
 
 The whistle was sounded as a signal for all the 
 girls to gather again in the glorietta and form the 
 column for the homeward march. Miss Shaw kept 
 the two frightened girls under her own special care, 
 and as they left the shade of the grove, forbade 
 either of them to mention to their companions 
 what had occurred. So the merry party walked 
 homeward, tired and happy, and chattering like a 
 flock of magpies all the way.
 
 374 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 On arriving at the college, Miss Shaw carried 
 Angela off to her room, and before many moments 
 her tender entreaties had won from the girl what 
 she wished to know. 
 
 Angela had a hearty fit of crying first, and 
 when she had grown calmer and was able to 
 speak, confessed with a hysterical laugh : 
 
 " I do not know why I was so frightened, sen- 
 orita, for the padre said only one word to me. 
 He stopped and looked into my eyes, but his eyes 
 seemed like two sharp knives, and when he hissed 
 ^ protestante ' into my very face, I was frightened 
 to death." 
 
 "You foolish child," the principal exclaimed; 
 " do you not know that that is what they call us 
 all? They can think of no epithet more insulting 
 for us. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Of course I know that, senorita, but I have 
 not yet told you who it was. The Senorita Maria 
 would have been frightened too, if she had seen 
 Padre Esteban Lopez of L,a Providencia ! ' ' 
 
 ' ' Indeed ! Was it he ? How strange that he 
 should let himself be seen here so soon ! But, 
 seriously, Angela, you need have no fear of him. 
 He would not dare to harm you, if it should be 
 possible to harm one of our little doves here. We 
 shall take care of you, child. And remember that 
 the hated name ^ protestantej meant for a curse 
 upon us by the Romanists, is what I most long to 
 call you. Some day, little girl, you will be pro-
 
 A GARDEN OF GIRLS. 375 
 
 testante, I hope, and then your loved Senorita 
 Maria and I shall thank God for teaching you the 
 truth. Now go quickly to your supper and say 
 nothing about this priest to the girls. I will my- 
 self speak to Arcadia about it." 
 
 At the supper table of the missionaries that 
 night Mr.' Richards remarked, casually : 
 
 " Well, I suppose we have seen the last of that 
 fellow Esteban Lopez, the priest, who stirred up 
 the ranch against Miss Mary last year." 
 
 "What can you mean?" asked Miss Shaw, 
 hastily. " Angela met him in the Alaineda this 
 afternoon, and was terribly frightened at his recog- 
 nizing her and calling her a Protestant." 
 
 " Is it possible that he dared? I also saw him 
 this afternoon, but he took pains to cross the street 
 ahead of me and vanish within a doorway as soon 
 as he saw me. Our consul tells me that the fellow 
 has been ordered to Spain by the archbishop, as 
 Esteban thinks his life is not safe in Mexico and 
 fears that the Veras will eventually call him to 
 account for the trouble at San Bernabe. The 
 consul seemed to have a hazy idea of his business 
 to Spain, but he thinks the man is to be sent as a 
 missionary from Madrid over into Morocco. At 
 any rate, we need not fear to see him hereabouts 
 any more." 
 
 " Then you think I may assure Angela that he 
 will be no longer skulking about here to frighten 
 her? The poor child is very nervous about him."
 
 376 A MEXICAN RANCH. 
 
 "The consul said that Esteban was only passing 
 through on his way to New York from Mexico 
 City. You know the consul's wife is a Mexican and 
 a Romanist, so he has his information from her. ' ' 
 
 It is needless to say that Angela's pillow was 
 softer and smoother that night, for the intelligence 
 that Padre Esteban was bound for foreign lands, 
 than it would have been if she had had to dread 
 the risk ot meeting him at any turn. 
 
 Angela is still at school at S , though the 
 
 last vacation or two has been spent with her pa- 
 rents in her own home. 
 
 As she travels between S and La Proyi- 
 
 dencia, she spends a night always with Mrs. 
 Douglas in San Bernabe*, while the diligence puts 
 up in the ranch inn ;, and Mary is rejoiced to find 
 that she is again whole and hearty in her enjoy- 
 ment of life. 
 
 During the next holidays she is to spend a week 
 in the little parsonage at the ranch, and assist at 
 the wedding of her cousin Jose" and Refugio. 
 Refugio will then leave her who has sheltered 
 her from the day when she came to her, foot-sore 
 and sick, from over the mountains, and will go to 
 live in the Vera home, in Mary's old rooms there. 
 
 A great friendship has arisen between Refugio 
 and Angela, and Jose" willingly resigns the palm 
 to his cousin in the matter of organ-playing. 
 
 Angela has not yet become a Protestant in name, 
 although there is little doubt of her inclination in
 
 A GARDEN OF GIRLS. 377 
 
 that direction, and Mary well knows that the 
 prayers to the virgin and the saints have long 
 become a matter of the past. 
 
 All natures do not yield with equal readiness to 
 the gentle influences of the Spirit of Christ;, and 
 sometimes the most obstinate in cleaving to the 
 wrong become the firmest and most faithful for 
 the right, when once convinced of error. 
 
 San Bernabe was not converted in one month, 
 nor in one year. One by one, now and then, the 
 church grows in numbers, and the little school, 
 Refugio's now, is the only one in the ranch, and 
 a new house has been built for it. Much of the 
 opposition against "the new religion" has died 
 away, though there are still those who go their 
 weary way across the plain to Sunday mass at the 
 church in La Bienvenida. 
 
 And so the work goes on, and will go on, as 
 long as men and women love their God and their 
 neighbor, and believe the truth, that "no-work 
 truly done, no word earnestly spoken, no sacrifice 
 freely made, was ever made in vain." 
 
 THE END.
 
 A 000056154 8