ple of categoria, and he even refuses some of
them! My husband is not like those about here--in Madrid he only
visited people of categoria."

They passed into the sick room.

The room was almost dark. The windows were shut for fear of a draught,
and the little light which illuminated the room came from the two
wax candles which were burning in front of an image of the Virgin
of Antipolo.

Her head wrapped up in a handkerchief, saturated in cologne water,
her body wrapped in wide folds of white sheets which outlined her
virginal form, the sick maiden lay on her bed of kamakon [18] among
jusi and pina curtains. Her hair, forming a frame around her oval
face, increased her transparent paleness, which was animated only
by her large eyes full of sadness. At her side were her two friends
and Andeng.

De Espadana felt of her pulse, examined her tongue, asked some
questions, and shaking his head seriously, said:

"Sh-sh-she is si-sick. But we-we-we can cu-cu-cure her."

Dona Victorina looked with pride at those around her.

"A li-lichen in mil-milk in the-the morning; syrup of marsh
marsh-mal-mallow, tw-o--two hounds'--hounds' tongue pi-pills,"
ordered De Espadana.

"Take courage, little Clara," said Dona Victorina, approaching her. "We
have come to cure you. I am going to present our cousin to you."

Linares was absorbed, contemplating those eloquent eyes which seemed
to be seeking some one, and he did not hear Dona Victorina call him.

"Senor Linares," said the curate, calling him out of his ecstacy. "Here
comes Father Damaso."

In fact, Father Damaso was coming, pale and somewhat sad. On leaving
his bed, his first visit was to Maria Clara. He was no longer the
Father Damaso that he had been, so robust and talkative. He now walked
along in silence and with unsteady footsteps.

CHAPTER XXV

SCHEMES.

Without paying attention to anybody, Father Damaso went straight to
the sick room and took hold of Maria's hand.

"Maria!" said he, with indescribable tenderness, as tears dropped
from his eyes. "Maria, my child, you are not going to die!"

Maria opened her eyes and looked at him with surprise.

None who knew the Franciscan suspected that he ever had such tender
thoughts. No one ever supposed that a heart existed under that gross
and rude aspect.

Father Damaso could say no more and left the maiden, weeping like
a child. He went out through the room at the head of the stairs,
to give free vent