d with
her, though I knew not at what I was laughing. My own laugh sounded
strangely, however, and seemed to me to echo with another tone from the
vine-covered walls as if some one were there, and like Madre Moreno,
were also laughing at me. I stopped suddenly, and I felt my face change
colour, and the same awe which I so often felt when about the ruined
house came upon me with a force I had never known before; I trembled as
I stood there beside this strange woman, who laughed louder and louder,
striking her little hands together in seeming ecstacy, while the sounds
echoed and re-echoed among the fig trees and heaps of stones, yet
seeming all the time less like echoes than like the voices of
innumerable, invisible creatures darting everywhere about the grove. The
place grew darker, for clouds just then obscured the sun and covered the
hills beyond Tamalpais. Madre Moreno came nearer to me and touched my
forehead. . . . . . . . . Suddenly the sun shown bright as ever upon the
fig and olive trees and gleamed from thousands of silver drops hanging
from every leaf; the snakes and lizards lay quietly upon the steaming
rocks and half burnt beams, while the rank vegetation sent forth a sweet
scent of green life.

"Why do you laugh at me, Madre?" I asked.

"Only, Carlos," she answered, "because it is so odd to see thee carrying
the old witch's basket with all the charms and thou knowing nothing
about it all; oh it is very odd!" and the Madre laughed again. "The
storm has gone over," she continued, "I feared it would last long, but
winter is almost gone, and it passed without much rain falling here."

"What storm?" I asked.

"The storm which has just passed, hast thou not noted it?"

"I saw no storm, you must be dreaming Madre, or trying some of your
spells upon me. There has been no storm for the sun has been shining
brightly, except when that cloud passed for a moment," I answered as I
handed her the basket.

"Whence came the drops of water which lie upon the leaves, Senor Carlos,
if not from the clouds which thou canst still see passing over the hills
toward San Anselmo? Thou knowest not all the power Ambrosia Moreno, thy
little madre, hath. So thou hast held the basket with the flat green
leaves."

"Oh! Madre Moreno, I can never understand you, but you must be careful
of the leaves you have just gathered, for they contain a most powerful
poison. I am more afraid, since the plant is rare or even unknown in the
Califo