“It is a kind of wisdom,” she said, “to be wise after the event.”
A moment later they came in sight of the bulk of the house looming up among the trees. A light from a scullery window shone directly upon their path, making the tops of the leaves to glisten like silver. As they came to the sight of this window, they both smelt on the instant a flavour of hot bread.
“They’ve come back,” Margaret said. “They have brought a candle to the scullery and Tia Eusebia is making the hot rolls.”
“Well, I’m blest,” Hilary said. “But you’re right; there is Tia Eusebia, taking away the candle.”
“I wonder where they have been.”
“We shall soon know.”
They hurried past the out-houses and up the steps to the door. Hilary knocked. After an interval Ramón and Eusebia opened to them. Both the old servants were flustered. They closed the door carefully behind Margaret and Hilary and then began to tell in swift soft Spanish of the wonders which they had seen.
“We have both been great sinners and thankless for God’s great mercies, O Señor and Señorita, but henceforth we shall live in sight of the throne, having been called, having been chosen. O the beauty and the grace and the sweetness that we have known this night. She, Herself, who is all good and grace, looked upon us and blest us. The most blessed Virgin has trodden upon these soils, O Señorita and Señor, and all the Blessed Fellowship will follow where she has trodden, and all the devils will be driven away. And the man with the two heads has gone already from by the blasted pine, and Black Peter with his tongue out has gone, and old Master that used to look sideways with yellow eyes, ran straight away out to sea, where all the lost go, and oh, hallelujah, hallelujah, be Thou seven times blest, O seven times Wounded One!”
“What has happened, Ramón?” Hilary asked.
“O Señor, the woman Lotta is surely a great saint, with all inner perfection.”