s own family have done; a young man to go against his mother and his
uncles, that is very wicked! but, if we forgive that fault, well, then,
Luis is as good as good bread."

"I think so. He began the study of the law. He must finish it. He must
learn the American laws also. I am not a poor man, Maria. I will give
Isabel the fortune worthy of a Yturbide or a Flores--a fortune that will
make her very welcome to the Alvedas."

The Senora clasped her husband's hand with a smile. They were sweetening
their own happiness with making the happiness of their children. They
looked first at Antonia. She sat with Dare, earnestly talking to him in
a low voice. Dare clasped in his own the dear little hand that had been
promised to him. Antonia bent toward her lover; her fair head rested
against his shoulder. Isabel sat in a large chair, and Luis leaned on
the back of it, stooping his bright face to the lovely one which
was sometimes dropped to hide her blushes, and sometimes lifted with
flashing eyes to answer his tender words.

"My happiness is so great, Roberto, I am even tired of being happy. Call
Rachela. I must go to sleep. To-night I cannot even say an ave."

"God hears the unspoken prayer in your heart, Maria; and to-night let me
help you upstairs. My arm is stronger than Rachela's."

She rose with a little affectation of greater weakness and lassitude
than she really felt. But she wished to be weak, so that her Roberto
might be strong--to be quite dependent on his care and tenderness. And
she let her daughters embrace her so prettily, and then offered her hand
to Dare and Luis with so much grace and true kindness that both young
men were enchanted.

"It is to be seen that they are gentlemen," she said, as she went slowly
upstairs on her husband's arm--"and hark! that is the singing of Luis.
What is it he says?" They stood still to listen. Clear and sweet
were the chords of the mandolin, and melodiously to them Luis was
protesting--

"Freedom shall have our shining blades!
Our hearts are yours, fair Texan maids!"

CHAPTER X. THE DOCTOR AND THE PRIEST.

"I tell thee, priest, if the world were wise
They would not wag one finger in your quarrels:
Your heaven you promise, but our earth you covet;
The Phaetons of mankind, who fire the world
Which you were sent by preaching but to warm."

Your Saviour came not with a gaudy show,
Nor was