of sin. I warned the Senora, when she married
this heretic, that trouble would come of it. Very well, it has come."
Then like a flash a new thought invaded his mind--If the Senor Doctor
disappeared forever, why not induce the Senora and her daughters to
go into a religious house? There was a great deal of money. The church
could use it well.

Antonia did not understand the thought, but she understood its animus,
and again she requested his withdrawal. This time she went close to him,
and bravely looked straight into his eyes. Their scornful gleam sent
a chill to her heart like that of cold steel. At that moment she
understood that she had turned a passive enemy into an active one.

He went, however, without further parley, stopping only to warn the
Senora against the sin "of standing with the enemies of God and the
Holy Church," and to order Isabel to recite for her mother's pardon and
comfort a certain number of aves and paternosters. Antonia went with
him to the door, and ere he left he blessed her, and said: "The Senorita
will examine her soul and see her sin. Then the ever merciful Church
will hear her confession, and give her the satisfying penance."

Antonia bowed in response. When people are in great domestic sorrow,
self-examination is a superfluous advice. She listened a moment to
his departing footsteps, shivering as she stood in the darkness, for a
norther had sprung up, and the cold was severe. She only glanced into
the pleasant parlor where the table was laid for dinner, and a great
fire of cedar logs was throwing red, dancing lights over the white linen
and the shining silver and glass. The chairs were placed around
the table; her father's at the head. It had a forsaken air that was
unendurable.

The dinner hour was now long past. It would be folly to attempt the
meal. How could she and Isabel sit down alone and eat, and her father in
prison, and her mother frantic with a loss which she was warned it was
sinful to mourn over. Antonia had a soul made for extremities and not
afraid to face them, but invisible hands controlled her. What could
a woman do, whom society had forbidden to do anything, but endure the
pangs of patience?

The Senora could offer no suggestions. She was not indeed in a mood to
think of her resources. A spiritual dread was upon her. And with this
mingled an intense sense of personal wrong from her husband. "Had she
not begged him to be passive? And he had put an old rifle before he