he wood, hoping there to behold some wonder, some sign,
some warning, that should draw him back. He thought often of the student
Lisardo, and wished that, like him, he might behold his own burial. But
heaven smiled with her thousand lights, and invited to love; the stars
looked at each other with love; the nightingales sang of love; even the
crickets amorously vibrated their sonorous elytra, as troubadours the
plectrum, in a serenade; all the earth on this tranquil and beautiful
night seemed given up to love. There was no warning; there was no sign;
there was no funeral pomp; all was life, peace, joy.

Where was now his guardian angel? Had he abandoned Don Luis as already
lost, or, deeming that he ran no risk, did he make no effort to turn him
from his purpose? Who can say? Perhaps from the danger that menaced him
would, in the end, result a triumph. St. Edward and Queen Edith
presented themselves again to the imagination of Don Luis, and
strengthened his resolution.

Engrossed in these meditations, he delayed his return, and was still
some distance from the village when ten, the hour appointed for his
interview with Pepita, struck from the parish clock. The ten strokes of
the bell were ten blows that, falling on his heart, wounded it as with a
physical pain--a pain in which dread and treacherous disquiet were
blended with a ravishing sweetness.

Don Luis hastened his steps that he might reach Pepita's house as soon
after the appointed hour as was now possible, and shortly found himself
in the village.

The village presented a most animated scene. Young girls flocked to wash
their faces at the fountain on the common--those who had sweethearts,
that their sweethearts might remain faithful to them; and those who had
not, that they might obtain sweethearts. Here and there women and
children were returning from the fields, with verbena, branches of
rosemary, and other plants, which they had been gathering, to burn as a
charm. Guitars tinkled on every side, words of love were to be
overheard, and everywhere happy and tender couples were to be seen
walking together. The vigil and the early morning of St. John's day,
although a Christian festival, still retain a certain savor of paganism
and primitive naturalism. This may be because of the approximate
concurrence of this festival and the summer solstice. In any case, the
scene to-night was of a purely mundane character, without any religious
mixture whatever. All was love