For the Soul of Rafael Part 13

"My daughter," she said, faintly, "I welcome you for my son and for myself, to the land where you are mistress. Now, senor!"

Fernando placed a chair for her, and she sank into it wearily.

"My last journey, my children! You are the son of Manuel Mendez?--we called ourselves cousins once. I present you--all of you--to my daughter--Dona Raquel Estevan."

"At your feet, senorita!" said Fernando.

"I appreciate the honor of your acquaintance, senor," replied Raquel, in the conventional greeting of the day and land. Then the others crowded about, and spoke many pretty things of welcome. But in the midst of it all Dona Luisa arose, and leaning on Jacoba's arm, pa.s.sed into the room prepared for her. The group left behind stared into each other's eyes.

"How frail! How could any creature like that make the journey?" asked Fernando. "She has been very ill."

"She _is_ ill; we dare not mention it to her!"

"But Rafael--her son--"

"Must not be told, so she says; not until the wedding is over. All at once she has gone like that. It is the heart, senor, and she is old. It may be months--may be days--may be only hours, and we can do nothing but keep her quiet and happy."

"Santa Maria!" muttered Dolores, "and Rafael--"

"His heart it will break--no? To not see him at the door is like a bad omen. She likes not the new Americanos' way of business--to be gone at breakfast time to look at s.h.i.+ps! But of course he is very good!"

"You are very good," replied Dolores. "Have they sent for Rafael?"

"I will see," said Fernando, and went away muttering, "The so good Rafael!"

"Oh! we have a thousand things to ask you, Raquel," said Madalena.

"Could you have been a nun and been happy if--Rafael had not found you?"

"To work for Mother Church--is not that of happiness?"

"Never to dance! Never to hear a serenade! Never to watch on moonlight nights for a handsome caballero!"

"I would as soon live in a tomb," confessed Dolores.

"But if you had never seen a dance, would you miss dancing? My mother's people were priests; she was to have been a nun. My blood and my teaching have been of the church. My life has been lived in one little narrow strip of the world. All at once the world changed. Sometimes it bewilders me, this change. You say 'happy,' but I don't think I know that word as you know it. Maybe I never shall learn it--who knows? But I can find work for the Church even here in the world, and you will all be my good friends, and--I shall be content."

Dona Luisa had entered the room while she was speaking, and nodded her approval.

"Content? You will be happy, my child; you will be with Rafael! Have you seen the chest of the _donas_? Is it not handsome? If we only had the key!"

"There is a little silver key on the shrine," said Dolores, and ran to get it.

"Aha! On the shrine of the Virgin!" said Dona Luisa. "Is that not love, Raquelita?"

"I am willing to believe it," she said, and took the little key, only to hand it back to Dolores. "You open it--and may you be the next happy bride!"

Dolores rushed to unlock the chest, and Madalena to lift the lid, and Ana, as well as the older women, exclaimed at the richness of the contents.

"Ai! Raquel Estevan, thou happy one!" cried Ana; "you have more luck than a queen!"

They pulled out embroideries and laces and jewels, with little shrieks of ecstasy at the beauty and fineness of them. Raquel looked on, smiling at their delight.

"Aha! is not that a lover, Raquelita?" repeated Dona Luisa. "Bring me the mantillas. Those two are for the bridesmaids; see how they look on Madalena and Dolores--fine--fine! And here is the wedding-veil--and the shoes, and the rosary--not anything is forgotten! He is so dear, so good--my Rafael!"

The girls insisted on placing the wreath and veil on Raquel's head, but she broke from them at sight of a silken scarf of green and red and white.

"Ah! more than all the jewels!" she cried, and clasped it to her bosom.

"The flag of my own Mexico! I will love him for that--I will love him with all my heart!"

"Ah! thou hast said it at last," said Dona Luisa, in triumph; "never forget thou hast said it!"

"When I say it," whispered Dolores to Ana, "it will be to the man, not to his mother."

"Come to me, daughter," said Dona Luisa, sinking back into a chair. "The heart feels--feels almost too happy! My dear Raquel--my dear Rafael!"

"The Americanos will be crazy to see this wedding in the old California fas.h.i.+on," said Madalena, adjusting Raquel's veil caressingly. "Senora Bryton would give her two ears--ouch! Dona Ana, you break my arm!"

"Give thanks it is not your neck, babbler!" muttered Ana. Dona Luisa looked at the two intently a moment.

"Who is the American senora of the two ears?" she inquired; "and why should the wedding of my son have interest for such--persons?"

"She--she was a cousin of Don Eduardo, and now she is married again--and she visits us, and her husband is some kind of engineer to make railroads, and mines, and--"

A pinch from Dolores stopped her this time, but it was very clumsily done, Dona Luisa saw it.

"Ah," she said, quietly; "and when is he to bring the railroad of the Americanos to the Californias, eh?"

The women and girls stared at each other.

"I--I cannot tell her," murmured Madalena to Jacoba; "you speak! Of course it is not Dona Angela's husband who does it, but--the railroad does come--so they say."

"Why do you whisper, and not speak aloud?" demanded Dona Luisa, putting aside the hand of Raquel, who tried to quiet her rising resentment. "Is there not anyone here to speak plainly, and the truth? What is it you try to hide from me?"

"Oh, Luisa," begged Jacoba, tearfully, "do not make of this a thing to trouble you! No one tries really to hide things; it is not here the railroad is to be first; it is only talk; it may never happen--it may--"

"Where?" demanded Dona Luisa. And Jacoba, with tears in her eyes, confessed having heard of the impertinence of the Americanos, who meant to build a new road of their own instead of the wagon trail to San Antonio.

"That was good enough for our fathers. What is now wrong with the San Antonio road?"

"Not anything, of course; but the government--"

"Ah ha!" and the old voice lifted to a shrill note of triumph in having at last found the key of the question. "The American government! I thought that would be it. What new crime do they plan against the Californias? This it is to grow old and lame--they would hide it from me! Speak, and tell me all! Does the fine new government want my home to quarter their pigs of soldiers in, as they did in the Mission in other days? And would my friends have hidden it from me until these upstarts were across my door?"

"Luisa--chulita--you were not well. Rafael said you were not to be told; but since you think we mean to speak falsely, or deceive you--"

"Where is it to come? How near?" Dona Luisa was not to be led an iota from the main question. But at her demand, Jacoba tried to speak, and failed, and could only weep noisily at the hardness in her old cousin's tones.

"Why do you make Aunt Jacoba weep like that?" demanded Ana, resentfully.