en, what
will Luis do? And they will never tell me anything about my father and
my brothers. I should never hear of them. I should never see them any
more; unless the good God was so kind as to let me meet them in his
heaven."

And Antonia had still darker and more fearful thoughts. She had not
forgotten the stories whispered to her childhood, of dreadful fates
reserved for contumacious and disobedient women. Whenever Fray
Ignatius looked at her she felt as if she were within the shadow of the
Inquisition.

Never had days passed so wearily and anxiously. Never had nights been so
terrible. The sisters did not dare to talk much together; they doubted
Rachela; they were sure their words were listened to and repeated.
They were not permitted to be alone with the Senora. Fray Ignatius had
particularly warned Rachela to prevent this. He was gradually bringing
the unhappy woman into what he called "a heavenly mind"--the influence
of her daughters, he was sure, would be that of worldly affections and
sinful liberty. And Rachela obeyed the confessor so faithfully, that the
Senora was almost in a state of solitary confinement. Every day her will
was growing weaker, her pathetic obedience more childlike and absolute.

But at midnight, when every one was asleep, Antonia stepped softly into
her sister's room and talked to her. They sat in Isabel's bed clasping
each other's hand in the dark, and speaking in whispers. Then Antonia
warned and strengthened Isabel. She told her all her fears. She
persuaded her to control her wilfulness, to be obedient, and to assume
the childlike thoughtlessness which best satisfied Fray Ignatius. "He
told you to-day to be happy, that he would think for you. My darling,
let him believe that is the thing you want," said Antonia. "I assure you
we shall be the safer for it."

"He said to me yesterday, when I asked him about the war, 'Do not
inquire, child, into things you do not understand. That is to be
irreligious,' and then he made the cross on his breast, as if I had
put a bad thought into his heart. We are afraid all day, and we sit
whispering all night about our fears; that is the state we are in. The
Lord sends us nothing but misfortunes, Antonia."

"My darling, tell the Lord your sorrow, then, but do not repine to
Rachela or Fray Ignatius. That is to complain to the merciless of the
All-Merciful."

"Do you think I am wicked, Antonia? What excuse could I offer to His
Divine Majesty, if I spok