of irritation. "No, no! Thou dost not
understand; thou dost not attend me. Knowest thou of any mark of
clothing, trinket, or amulet found upon the babe?"

The light of the old woman's eyes went out. She might have been dead.
Father Pedro waited a moment, and then laid his hand impatiently on her
shoulder.

"Dost thou mean there are none?"

A ray of light struggled back into her eyes.

"None."

"And thou hast kept back or put away no sign nor mark of her parentage?
Tell me, on this crucifix."

The eyes caught the crucifix, and became as empty as the orbits of the
carven Christ upon it.

Father Pedro waited patiently. A moment passed; only the sound of the
muleteer's spurs was heard in the courtyard.

"It is well," he said at last, with a sigh of relief. "Pepita shall
give thee some refreshment, and Jose will bring thee back again. I will
summon him."

He passed out of the sacristy door, leaving it open. A ray of sunlight
darted eagerly in, and fell upon the grotesque heap in the corner.
Sanchicha's eyes lived again; more than that, a singular movement came
over her face. The hideous caverns of her toothless mouth opened--she
laughed. The step of Jose was heard in the corridor, and she became
again inert.

The third day, which should have brought the return of Antonio, was
nearly spent. Father Pedro was impatient but not alarmed. The good
fathers at San Jose might naturally detain Antonio for the answer,
which might require deliberation. If any mischance had occurred to
Francisco, Antonio would have returned or sent a special messenger. At
sunset he was in his accustomed seat in the orchard, his hands clasped
over the breviary in his listless lap, his eyes fixed upon the mountain
between him and that mysterious sea that had brought so much into his
life. He was filled with a strange desire to see it, a vague curiosity
hitherto unknown to his preoccupied life; he wished to gaze upon that
strand, perhaps the very spot where she had been found; he doubted not
his questioning eyes would discover some forgotten trace of her; under
his persistent will and aided by the Holy Virgin, the sea would give up
its secret. He looked at the fog creeping along the summit, and
recalled the latest gossip of San Carmel; how that since the advent of
the Americanos it was gradually encroaching on the Mission. The hated
name vividly recalled to him the features of the stranger as he had
stood before him three nights ago, in this v