Agui yace Catalina de Villa Franca.
The slab probably remains yet in the chapel, if the convent of Santa Cruz has escaped the wars of the Carlists and Christinos. As soon as this sad ceremony was concluded, Ronald retired.
Two-and-thirty years have now elapsed since the tomb closed over Catalina, but time has not yet effaced from Stuart's memory the emotions which he felt when hearing the sound of the dull cold earth falling on her unshrouded bosom! In the parlatorio he composed himself to write a long letter to Donna Inesella, giving an account of her cousin's destruction, and bitterly upbraiding himself as being the leading cause in the affair, although in reality he was not. The reader will remember, that it was her own desire and determination to confide herself to the care of the pretended priest at Almarez.
Owing to the tumult in his mind, Ronald found the composition of the letter no easy task, especially as that garrulous old man, El Pastor, remained at his elbow, chattering away on unconnected subjects, and bringing out now and then some musty Spanish proverb.
"Look ye, senor," said he, regardless of the blots and blunders that his interruptions caused Stuart to make; "do you see that image of our Holy Lady in the niche yonder?"
"Well, padre?"
"'Tis the work of Alonza Cano."
"Pshaw! what is that to me? I never heard of the gentleman before."
"He was the first of Spanish architects and painters, and with his own hands adorned many of our finest churches and palaces. He was born at Grenada in the year 1600, and as the proverb says—"
"Never mind what it says. For Heaven's sake, mi amigo, leave me to write in peace."