"Alfonso Linares, the G.o.dson of your brother-in-law----" stammered the young fellow. Father Damaso threw back his head and examined him anew, his face clearing.

"What! It's the G.o.dson of Carlicos!" he cried, clasping him in his arms. "I had a letter from him some days ago. And it is you? You were not born when I left the country. I did not know you!" And Father Damaso still held in his strong arms the young man, whose face began to color, perhaps from embarra.s.sment, perhaps from suffocation. Father Damaso appeared to have completely forgotten his grief.

After the first moments of effusion and questions about Carlicos and Pepa, Father Damaso asked:

"Let's see, what is it Carlicos wishes me to do for you?"

"I think he says something about it in the letter," stammered Linares again.

"In the letter? Yes, that's so! He wishes me to find you employment and a wife. Ah, the employment is easy enough, but as for the wife!--hem!--a wife----"

"Father, that is not so urgent," said Linares, with confusion.

But Father Damaso was walking back and forth murmuring: "A wife! A wife!" His face was no longer sad or joyful, but serious and preoccupied. From a distance Father Salvi watched the scene.

"I did not think the thing could cause me so much pain," Father Damaso murmured plaintively; "but of two evils choose the least!" Then approaching Linares:

"Come with me, my boy," he said, "we will talk with Don Santiago." Linares paled and followed the priest.

x.x.xVII.

SCRUTINY OF CONSCIENCE.

Long days followed by weary nights were pa.s.sed by the pillow of the sick girl. After a confession to Father Salvi, Maria Clara had had a relapse, and in her delirium she p.r.o.nounced no name but that of her mother, whom she had never known. Her friends, her father, her aunt, watched her, and heaped with gifts and with silver for ma.s.ses the altars of miraculous images. At last, slowly and regularly, the fever began to abate.

The Doctor de Espadana was stupefied at the virtues of the syrup of marshmallow and the decoction of lichen, prescriptions he had never varied. Dona Victorina was so satisfied with her husband that one day when he stepped on her train, in a rare state of clemency she did not apply to him the usual penal code by pulling out his teeth.

One afternoon, Sinang and Victorina were with Maria; the curate, Captain Tiago, and the Espadanas were talking in the dining-room.

"I'm distressed to hear it," the doctor was saying; "and Father Damaso must be greatly disturbed."

"Where did you say he is to be sent?" asked Linares.

"Into the province of Tabayas," replied the curate carelessly.

"Maria Clara will be very sorry too," said Captain Tiago; "she loves him like a father."

Father Salvi looked at him from the corner of his eye.

"Father," continued Captain Tiago, "I believe her sickness came from nothing but that trouble the day of the fete."

"I am of the same opinion, so you have done well in not permitting Senor Ibarra to talk with her; that would only have aggravated her condition."

"And it is thanks to us alone," interrupted Dona Victorina, "that Clarita is not already in heaven singing praises with the angels."

"Amen!" Captain Tiago felt moved to say.

"I think I know whereof I speak," said the curate, "when I say that the confession of Maria Clara brought about the favorable crisis that saved her life. I do not deny the power of science, but a pure conscience----"

"Pardon," objected Dona Victorina, piqued; "then cure the wife of the alferez with a confession!"

"A hurt, senora, is not a malady, to be influenced by the conscience,"

replied Father Salvi severely; "but a good confession would preserve her in future from such blows as she got this morning."

"She deserved them!" said Dona Victorina. "She is an insolent woman. In church she did nothing but look at me. I had a mind to ask her what there was curious about my face; but who would soil her lips speaking to these people of no standing?"

The curate, as if he had not heard this tirade, continued: "To finish the cure of your daughter, she should receive the communion to-morrow, Don Santiago. I think she does not need to confess, and yet, if she will once more, this evening----"

"I don't know," said Dona Victorina, profiting by the pause to continue her reflections, "I don't understand how men can marry such frights. One easily sees where that woman came from. She is dying of envy, that shows in her eyes. What does an alferez get?"

"So prepare Maria for confession," the curate continued, turning to Aunt Isabel.

The good aunt left the group and went to her niece's room. Maria Clara was still in bed, and pale, very pale; beside her were her two friends.

Sinang was giving her her medicine.

"He has not written to you again?" asked Maria, softly.

"No."

"He gave you no message for me?"

"No; he only said he was going to make every effort to have the archbishop raise the ban of excommunication----"

The arrival of Aunt Isabel interrupted the conversation.

"The father says you are to prepare yourself for confession, my child,"

said she. "Sinang, leave her to examine her conscience. Shall I bring you the 'Anchor,' the 'Bouquet,' or the 'Straight Road to Heaven,'

Maria?"

Maria Clara did not reply.

"Well, we mustn't fatigue you," said the good aunt consolingly; "I will read you the examination myself, and you will only have to remember your sins."

"Write him to think of me no more," murmured the sick girl in Sinang's ear.

"What!"

But Aunt Isabel came back with her book, and Sinang had to go.

The good aunt drew her chair up to the light, settled her gla.s.ses on the tip of her nose, and opened a little book.

"Give good attention, my child: I will begin with the commandments of G.o.d; I shall go slowly, so that you may meditate: if you don't hear well, you must tell me, and I will repeat; you know I'm never weary of working for your good."