The priest, recognizing the inevitable, patiently resigned himself to the woman’s talk without further reply. Presently they turned into the Calle Lazano, and entering the house where Marcelena had greeted him that morning, mounted to the chamber above where lay the little Maria.
A single candle on a table near the head of the bed shed a flickering, uncertain light. But the window was open, and the moon’s beams poured into the room in golden profusion. Aside from the girl, there were no other occupants than Marcelena and the new-born child.
“Padre,” murmured the passing girl, “you will not let me die without the Sacrament?”
“No, child,” replied the priest, bending over her, hot tears streaming down his cheeks as she kissed his hand.
The girl had been beautiful, a type of that soft, southern beauty, whose graces of form, full, regular features, and rich olive tint mark them as truly Spanish, with but little admixture of inferior blood. Her features were drawn and set now; but her great, brown eyes which she raised to the priest were luminous with a wistful eagerness that in this final hour became sacred.
“Marcelena,” the priest hurriedly whispered to the woman. “I have no––but it matters not now; she need not know that I come unprepared. She must pass out of the world happy at last.”
“There is a drop of wine that the doctor left; and I will fetch a bit of bread,” replied the woman, catching the meaning of the priest’s words.
“Bring it; and I will let her confess now.”
Bending over the sinking girl, the priest bade her reveal the burden resting on her conscience.
“Carita,” he said tenderly, when the confession was ended, “fear not. The blessed Saviour died for you. He went to prepare a place for you and for us all. He forgave the sinful woman––carita, he forgives you––yes, freely, gladly. He loves you, little one. Fear not what Padre Lorenzo said. He is a sinful priest. Forget all now but the good Saviour, who stands with open arms––with a smile on his beautiful face––to welcome his dear child––his little girl––you, carita, you.”