a female
figure slowly walking down to the road from the grove of figs. I knew at
once who it was from the odd manner of wearing her reboso, and by the
lameness of her gait; it was Madre Moreno, the witch.

The thought suddenly came to me that she must have been hidden in the
ruin, and have heard me when I called the name of Ysidria, and I
mentally cursed the old hag. Then I thought of the whispered sentence,
and of the three syllabled echo; and knew they must have come from her.

"What can the awful woman have in hand?" I asked myself, "What, but some
wickedness. I wish she did not follow me so closely. Worse than all, she
may tell the fair Ysidria what a fool I made of myself over her
handkerchief; I almost wish with Catalina that the good old days were
here again." I walked home more slowly, and entering the house quietly,
reached my room just as the clock struck two.

V.

The winter went, and the hot summer passed pleasantly.

It was about the beginning of October, when one morning, I walked down
to Madre Moreno's house. I had become a constant visitor at the witch's
cottage, and often dined there. The accident which had so oddly
introduced Ysidria to me was not serious, and in a few days she was
completely recovered. Ysidria served at the simple meals of Madre
Moreno, and no one ever mixed my wine more to my taste than she did, and
no one could make better cordial than Ysidria did with the sweet leaves
of the yerba buena steeped in the sauternes which I made from my
vineyard, and with which I supplied the Madre.

Ysidria grew apparently more beautiful every day, and the brilliancy of
her eyes, which had attracted my notice at first, became even more
marked.

I had begun reading aloud to her on afternoons, as we sat in the Moreno
veranda, for Ysidria's eyes, though strong and of great power for
distant vision, often entirely failed her when reading or looking at any
near object, so I found great pleasure in my visits, and as the Madre
was seldom present to annoy me, I thoroughly enjoyed every moment, as
Ysidria had become a necessity to my happiness, and I loved her.

On the morning of which I have spoken, I went to keep a walking
engagement, and found Ysidria waiting for me in the garden. As I
approached, I noticed that she held her reboso in her hand and was
laughing immoderately, while she tripped from one end of the path to the
other, singing snatches of songs or impromptu rhymes. As I stood by