nvent at his own expense.

Days before the week of festivities, numerous boxes of provisions and
drinks, colossal mirrors, pictures, paintings and his daughter's piano
had arrived at the house. Maria Clara and Aunt Isabel were already
living there. Captain Tiago came on the day before the beginning of the
festival. As he kissed his daughter's hand, he made her a present of
a beautiful religious relic. It was solid gold, and set with diamonds
and emeralds, and contained a little sliver from Saint Peter's boat,
in which Our Saviour sat while fishing.

The Captain's interview with his future son-in-law could not have
been more cordial. Naturally, the school house was the subject of
conversation. Captain Tiago wanted him to call the school "The San
Francisco School."

"Believe me!" he said. "San Francisco is a good patron saint. If
you call it 'The Primary School,' you gain nothing. Who is Primary,
anyway?"

Some friends of Maria Clara arrived and invited her to go for a walk.

"But return quickly," said the Captain to his daughter, who asked
for his permission. "You know that Father Damaso is going to dine
with us to-night. He has just arrived."

And turning to Ibarra who was deep in thought, he added: "You will
dine with us, too? You will be all alone at home."

"With the greatest pleasure, I assure you, if I did not have to be at
home to-night to receive visitors," replied the young man, mumbling
his words and evading Maria Clara's glance.

"Bring your friends along with you," replied Captain Tiago
cheerfully. "In my house there is always enough to eat. And, besides
I would like to have you and Father Damaso understand each other."

"There'll be time enough for that," replied Ibarra, putting on a
forced smile and making ready to accompany the young ladies.

They went downstairs. Maria Clara was walking between Victoria and
Iday, while Aunt Isabel followed behind.

As they passed down the street, people stood aside respectfully
and gave them the inside of the way. Maria Clara was surprisingly
beautiful now. Her paleness had disappeared, and although her eyes
were thoughtful, her mouth, on the contrary, seemed all smiles. With
that amiability known only to a happy maiden, she saluted friends she
had known from childhood who to-day were admirers of her youthful
beauty. In less than fifteen days she had regained that frank
confidence, that childish chatter, which seemed for awhile to have been
left behind in th