elightful suavity turned the conversation upon
the country rather than the people. It was a glorious day in the dawn
of spring. The tenderest greens, the softest blues, the freshest scents,
the clearest air, the most delightful sunshine were everywhere. The
white old town, with its picturesque crowds, its murmur of voices and
laughter, its echoes of fife and drum, its loves and its hatreds, was at
his feet; and, far off, the hazy glory of the mountains, the greenness
and freshness of Paradise, the peace and freedom of the vast, unplanted
places. The old marquis was insensibly led to contemplate the whole;
and, in so doing, to put uppermost that pride of country which was the
base of every feeling susceptible to the priest's influence.

"Such a pleasant city, Marquis! Spanish monks founded it. Spanish
and Mexican soldiers have defended it. Look at its fine churches and
missions; its lovely homes, and blooming gardens."

"It is also all our own, father. It was but yesterday I said to one of
those insolent Americans who was condescending to admire it: 'Very good,
Senor; and, if you deign to believe me, it was not brought from New
York. Such as you see it, it was made by ourselves here at San Antonio.'
Saints in heaven! the fellow laughed in my face. We were mutually
convinced of each other's stupidity."

"Ah, how they envy us the country! And you, Marquis, who have traveled
over the world, you can imagine the reason?"

"Father, I will tell you the reason; it is the craving in the heart to
find again the lost Eden. The Almighty made Texas with full hands. When
He sets his heart on a man, he is permitted to live there."

"Grace of God! You speak the truth. Shall we then give up the gift of
His hand to heretics and infidels?"

"I cannot imagine it."

"Then every one must do the work he can do. Some are to slay the
unbelievers; others; are to preserve the children of the Church. Your
niece and her two daughters will be lost to the faith, unless you
interfere for their salvation. Of you will their souls be required."

"By Saint Joseph, it is a duty not in agreement with my desire! I, who
have carefully abstained from the charge of a wife and daughters of my
own."

"It is but for a day or two, Marquis, until the matter is arranged. The
convent is the best of all refuges for women so desolate."

The marquis did not answer. He lifted a book and began to read; and Fray
Ignatius watched him furtively.

In the mean time