recious bottle of Paras brandy, and thereafter, to their great joy,
emptied a considerable portion of it over the unfortunate yellow cat,
a mere desultory spanking was deemed to be a meet atonement for the
act.

So Pepe rode lightly out from Monterey, and behind him rode not black
care, but brightest joy, and after him went good wishes and great
love. When he came again he would be rich, and--dearer than all other
riches--Pancha would be his. Truly, a young fellow of three and
twenty, who had carved his own way to so brave a fortune, might well
rejoice within himself; and Pepe did rejoice with all his heart. As he
rode down the valley--the valley that is scarred by the railroad
now--his thoughts ran back pleasantly over the past few years of hard
work in his profession; over his many successes tarnished by not a
single serious failure; and still more pleasantly his thoughts ran
forward into the future, when all his toil was to receive, over and
above a liberal compensation, a most sweet reward. One more deal in
the game that he knew so well how to play, and all the stakes would be
his. No wonder that Pepe's heart was glad within him; that his soul
was filled with joy.

Yet Pancha, left behind in Monterey to wait while Pepe worked, was
sorrowful. As sometimes happens to us when we are confronted by the
certainty of great happiness, she was possessed by a gloomy sadness
that came of dark forebodings in her mind. The very greatness and
sureness of this happiness awed her into doubt. She knew that to take
her good fortune in this faint-hearted way was not wise in itself,
and was not what Pepe would approve; and that she might please Pepe
she berated herself roundly and tried to laugh away her fears--though
they scarcely amounted to fears, being but shadowy doubts and unshaped
thoughts in which always was a tinge of nameless dread. But scolding
herself and laughing at herself were equally unavailing; therefore she
betook herself to that refuge which is dear to women the world over,
but which especially is dear to women in Roman Catholic lands--the
refuge of prayer.

A placid, holy place is the church of San Francisco in Monterey. It
stands upon a quiet street, the Calle de San Francisco, where little
travel or noise of traffic ever comes, and about it always is an
atmosphere of sacred rest. On one side of it is the ruin of the old,
old church where, near three hundred years ago, the colonists sent
northward by the Conde