Part 52

"Take courage, Clarita," said Doña Victorina, approaching the bed, "we have come to cure you. I'm going to present to you our cousin."

Linares, absorbed, was gazing at those eloquent eyes, which seemed to be searching for some one; he did not hear Doña Victorina.

"Señor Linares," said the curate, drawing him out of his abstraction, "here is Father Dámaso."

It was indeed he; but it was not the Father Dámaso of heretofore, so vigorous and alert. He walked uncertainly, and he was pale and sad.

XXXVI.

PROJECTS.

With no word for any one else, Father Dámaso went straight to Maria's bed and took her hand.

"Maria," he said with great tenderness, and tears gushed from his eyes, "Maria, my child, you must not die!"

Maria Clara looked at him with some astonishment. No one of those who knew the Franciscan would have believed him capable of such display of feeling.

He could not say another word, but moved aside the draperies and went out among the plants of Maria's balcony, crying like a child.

"How he loves his god-daughter!" every one thought.

Father Salvi, motionless and silent, watched him intently.

When the father's grief seemed more controlled, Doña Victorino presented young Linares. Father Dámaso, saying nothing, looked him over from head to foot, took the letter, read it without appearing to comprehend, and asked:

"Well, who are you?"

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

"What! It's the godson 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 Dámaso still held in his strong arms the young man, whose face began to color, perhaps from embarrassment, perhaps from suffocation. Father Dámaso appeared to have completely forgotten his grief.

After the first moments of effusion and questions about Carlicos and Pepa, Father Dámaso 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 Dámaso 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 Dámaso 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.

XXXVII.

SCRUTINY OF CONSCIENCE.

Long days followed by weary nights were passed by the pillow of the sick girl. After a confession to Father Salvi, Maria Clara had had a relapse, and in her delirium she pronounced 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 masses the altars of miraculous images. At last, slowly and regularly, the fever began to abate.

The Doctor de Espadaña was stupefied at the virtues of the syrup of marshmallow and the decoction of lichen, prescriptions he had never varied. Doña 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.