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I had begun reading aloud to her on afternoons, as we sat in the Moreno veranda, for Ysidria's eyes, though strong and of great power for distant vision, often entirely failed her when reading or looking at any near object, so I found great pleasure in my visits, and as the Madre was seldom present to annoy me, I thoroughly enjoyed every moment, as Ysidria had become a necessity to my happiness, and I loved her.
Catalina was simply indignant at this desecration, as she called it, and wondered that the beads had not burned her fingers. The sermon was long and dull, but I did not mind these defects, or rather thought them virtues, for my mind was not interrupted in the contemplation of Ysidria. I felt like laughing with delight all the day, and wore far from what is called now-a-days, a "Sunday face."
A year passed, and Ysidria, under the care of the good Pedirpozzo, completely recovered her health, and one happy day in Easter Week we were wedded by Padre Andreas, at San Rafael, and we went to live at the rancho, with Catalina still as housekeeper, all of us feeling like people saved from a wreck and hoping never to suffer such sorrow again.
My aunt, Ambrosia, came to me last night, soon after you left me at the gate; she was smiling and very happy, and resting her hand on my shoulder said: "Ysidria thou hast done well, thou couldst not have done better had I trained thee to it." I was surprised at her manner, and asked her to explain.
"How didst thou, Ysidria, come to find our friend Carlos de Soto and he to take thee home?" and the Madre began to laugh boisterously. "Stay to sup with us Carlos," she said, when she had enough recovered from her fit of laughter to speak, "or perhaps thou art afraid of the old witch."
Ysidria served at the simple meals of Madre Moreno, and no one ever mixed my wine more to my taste than she did, and no one could make better cordial than Ysidria did with the sweet leaves of the yerba buena steeped in the sauternes which I made from my vineyard, and with which I supplied the Madre.
"Yes, Ysidria," I cried, as tears rolled down my cheeks, "we will meet again in the morning beneath the sunlight of God's love." My words were scarcely uttered when I noted a throb of her pulse, and then I felt as it were a dream, the beautiful eyes of Ysidria opened and gazed at me but did not seem to see me.
It was not this that troubled me concerning Ysidria, but knowing Madre Moreno as I did, and what an unscrupulous, scheming and heartless woman she was, I felt that she had brought this lovely niece to her home for some purpose known only to herself. Of what that purpose could be I had not the faintest idea, but I knew the Madre never did anything without an object.
"Yes, Señor Carlos," said Ysidria, as we dismounted, "every word of praise I hear about my eyes, seems like mockery to me; I, myself, am frightened at their strange changes, and fear that I shall soon be blind." "Then why not go at once to Santa Clara? It is your only hope. Why not go to-morrow?" I asked, as I took her hand in mine.
Presently there came an answer from the cliffs above, and looking up I beheld Ysidria, mounted on the black horse I had some months before given to Madre Moreno, to be used by her niece, who was not so strong as she had been, and unable to walk so much as formerly. "Wait, and I will come down," she called and disappeared among the shrubs.
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