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Updated: June 13, 2025
"Yes, that they are, Master Carlos!" said a voice seemingly beside me. I turned, the voice sounded like that of the Madre, but no one was to be seen, however, the large black cat which had followed me, put up her back to be stroked and purred and rubbed against my leg. As I closed the gate the same voice sounded again but more faintly. "Beautiful eyes hath Ysidria; beautiful eyes!"
Upon the table lay a sheet of paper, I took it up to read what was written on it, thinking it would tell where the Madre and Ysidria had gone. All that was upon it was my name, but under the sheet was an envelope addressed to me. I hurriedly broke the seal and spread the sheets before me; they read My dear Carlos: Scarcely do I know how to begin this letter to you, whom I love so much.
Ysidria grew apparently more beautiful every day, and the brilliancy of her eyes, which had attracted my notice at first, became even more marked.
Ysidria!" each time called back the ruined wall, and at last I had to laugh as I thought of the ludicrous appearance I presented, calling aloud a name and like a child being pleased with the voice of the unseen spirit, but as I laughed, that too, reverberated, but the sound seemed changed, and it made me involuntarily shudder as I remembered the scene of that very morning, when my laugh had produced the same strange feeling, half of awe and half of anger.
The thought suddenly came to me that she must have been hidden in the ruin, and have heard me when I called the name of Ysidria, and I mentally cursed the old hag. Then I thought of the whispered sentence, and of the three syllabled echo; and knew they must have come from her. "What can the awful woman have in hand?" I asked myself, "What, but some wickedness.
"I too feel so toward her, and scarcely know whether she loves me devotedly or hates me; her laugh though is unbearable, to me, there seems to be wickedness in it," replied Ysidria, "though I should not talk ill of her, for she is very kind, making me many little sweets and pasties, and there is one sweet drop of which she is very choice, never giving me more than one at a time.
I quickly mounted my mare and galloped down the road and over the hill to the adobe, and there, the morning sun shining full upon her face, lay my love, my Ysidria. By her side was a packet open and white pellets scattered on the grass. I bent and kissed the white face, and took the cold hand in mine, praying to the Blessed Virgin to give me strength to bear this killing trial.
It was Padre Arguello's farewell, as he was to sail for Acapulco in a few days, and the country people had come for many miles to do him honour. All had been much surprised when old Ambrosia Moreno entered the church and, with Ysidria, knelt through the service.
"That cannot be; I am not able, nor is Aunt Ambrosia, to allow of the expense. I must be content to see while I may, and then live on with the remembrance of your kind faces ever before me." "Ysidria, do not despond; let me help you; it has been my dream for the past year. Will you be my wife?" I caught her in my arms, for she seemed as if about to fall.
There were not many at vespers, and Madre Moreno and Ysidria had started early for home with the Danas, so I had to myself the pleasure of kneeling in the spot where Ysidria had worshipped in the forenoon.
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