But on turning to go into Catalina's room, he hesitated with his hand on the latch of the door, and turning, he looked searchingly at Paula, as if he would know the secret of the innermost heart of this child, so loving, so angelic, and yet so absolutely natural.

CHAPTER SEVEN

CATALINA'S ILLNESS

Teresa had not been mistaken. Catalina became so critically ill during the following week, that my father lost all hope of her recovery. Not being able to be with her during the day, he watched at her bedside during the greater part of the night, and if it had not been for Teresa, who compelled him to go and take some rest, he would have, undoubtedly, suffered a collapse himself. How long those days appeared to be in spite of the happy companionship that I had found with my dear cousin Paula! My father hardly noticed us, absorbed as he was with the fear that filled his heart, and Teresa was occupied with so many tasks that she had no time for us either.

Rosa had to leave school in order to help nurse the sick one, and Paula also was required to stay home until the afternoon session. As for me, I was packed off to school in the morning, carrying my lunch in a little basket, fearing each night as I came back to the house that I would receive bad news as to Catalina. My! What grand resolutions for the future I made during those sad days--to try to love my poor sick sister, and to treat her better than I had done, should she recover.

One afternoon, I was surprised to find my father at home. It was only about five o'clock and he generally did not return from work until eight. He seemed so sad and depressed that I dared not embrace him as was our custom.

Teresa crossed the dining-room and gave me her usual warning. "Don't make any noise, Lisita. Go and sit down and be quiet"

"Teresa," said my father in a low voice, "do you think Catalina would be able to see the children?"'

"Why do you ask that, sir?" she said.

"I would like them to see her that she may embrace them for the last time.

You know what the doctor said."

"Oh, those doctors!" said Teresa in a scornful tone. "The doctors don't know what they're talking about. Don't lose hope, sir. I know that Catalina may not live to be very old, but if G.o.d wills her to live, she will do so in spite of the doctors."

"Yes, but you know how weak she is. She never will be able to survive so many complications. And yet, how can I bear such affliction? She reminds me so much of her mother, the same voice, the same blue eyes, and even her identical way of smiling. And now to follow this child to the cemetery and return to the house where she will never be any more. Oh, what shall I do!

What shall I do!"

"Why don't you consult the Great Physician, sir?"

"What do you mean by 'the Great Physician?'"

"I mean the Lord Jesus. Deliver Catalina into His hands. When He walked this earth, all the sick ones were brought to Him and He healed them all."

"But He's no longer on the earth."

"No; but His power is the same today as it was then."

"Teresa, do you pray nowadays?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"When did you begin to pray?"

"From the time that Paula entered the house, sir."

"I suspected that."

"Now, please don't go and rebuke her, sir. If you only knew how she loves you, and how she prays for you and Catalina. Oh, sir, how many times she has made me blush for shame."

"How so, my good Teresa?"

"That's a fact, sir. I used to think to myself, 'You're a pretty good woman, you have suffered much in your life, you work hard, you don't do any harm to anybody, surely you will go to heaven.' But when I saw Paula and the reality of her religion, and how she loved G.o.d, oh, then, sir, I comprehended for the first time in my life that I was a sinner worthy of h.e.l.l, and I prayed to G.o.d that He would pardon me."

"And--did He do it?"

"The Saviour a.s.sures us, sir, that 'He that cometh to Him, He will in no wise cast out.' So I dare to believe that He has pardoned me" Teresa was pale with emotion. It was the first time that she had confessed the Lord before men, and it cost her a good deal to do so to my father. He was apparently too depressed to be angry. After a moment of silence he said, "Where is Paula?"

"I sent her to the drug store, sir, to get certain medicines that the doctor ordered."

"When she returns, send her to Catalina's room. I shall remain there until, until--" My poor father could not conclude the sentence.

Then turning to me, "When Paula returns I wish you to come in to Catalina's room also, Lisita."

"Yes, father," I answered him in a low voice.

A quarter of an hour later Paula returned. Never shall I forget the anguish and terror that I experienced when Teresa, warning us to be quiet, led the way to the bedside of my dying sister.

Catalina did not appear to notice our entrance. Her eyes were closed, and her face so pale that I believed her already dead, but my father made signs to us to draw a little nearer and putting his hand over the forehead of my poor sister, he called to her gently, in a voice that betrayed great anguish.

"Catalina, Lisita and Paula have come to visit you. Would you not like to embrace them?"

"Lisita ... Paula ..." I heard Catalina murmur in a far-away voice. "Ah, yes, I remember. Help me up, father." My father lifted the poor thin body of his daughter. In spite of all I could do, I could not keep from crying, thinking that it would be the last time that I would embrace my big sister, whom I had loved so little. She looked at us for a long while, and then said calmly, "Have you two come to say good-bye to me?"

"No, no," said my father; "we hope that ..."

"No, father, I'm dying. I know that well. It is useless to keep it from me.

Think of it, only eighteen years old, and yet I've been of no use to anybody, and n.o.body's going to miss me very much."

"Catalina," exclaimed my father, "do not speak so. You hurt me talking that way, and you make Lisita and Paula cry."

"Are you really crying, Lisita?" And Catalina turned her feverish eyes toward me. "How strange! I have not been a very good sister to you, and I always thought you didn't care for me."

"Oh, Catalina," I exclaimed, kneeling beside the bed, "please don't die. I do love you so. I promise to come and care for you every day and I'll never make another noise while you are sick. I will be always good to you, indeed--even when you're bad-humored. Please don't die." And then I sobbed with such violence that my father, fearing that such conduct would cut even shorter that parting life upon the bed, asked Teresa to take me away.

But Catalina said, "Let her alone, father. It really does me good to see her cry. I never dreamed that Lisita had any heart at all. But I see now that it has been all my fault. If I had only been a bit better-tempered with her, she would have shown me a little more affection. Rosa, give me a little water, please." And Rosa placed a teaspoonful of water between the lips of our poor sister.

"Are you quite bad, my daughter?" asked my father.

For some minutes, Catalina could not reply, but finally she said, "Lisita, don't cry any more, please. Now, listen."

I tried to calm myself.

"We need to ask each other's pardon, my poor little sister," she said.

"Now kiss me. Tell me that you forgive me."

"Oh, yes, indeed, I do forgive you," I answered, "from the bottom of my heart. It is I who have been wicked, whereas you have been so very, very sick, while I enjoy such good health."

"Yes, that's true," said Catalina, "but I'm older, and I should have shown you a better example. I had always thought of myself and now--it's too late to change! Come, dear Lisita, come and kiss me once more."