"Yes," said the mother, "she is good of heart. If only she would listen to the advice of Father Ramirez and marry Arturo, we might all be once more joyful."
"Yes," I answered, "I hope it may yet be as you desire; but, if you will pardon me, dear Doña Maria, for speaking plainly, let no priest or other person come between your child and yourself. Mariposilla is still so young that she is absolutely frightened at the thought of marriage. Let her develop gradually in her own way, willful though it may appear.
"I am sure that after a time, when Arturo returns, handsome and successful, she will accept his proffered love."
The Doña Maria's great, sad eyes filled with happy tears. "Blessings be on you, dear lady!" she said; "I shall ever be happy that it has been sweet to have given you our home."
Kind Doña Maria! it was exactly what she had done—she had given us her home. Generously, she had taken two strangers into her great motherly heart to dwell.
Mrs. Sanderson was to come this same afternoon, for a lesson in drawn work.
As I dropped into my accustomed nook of the veranda, the industrious Doña Maria hastened out to the kitchen to perform a remaining duty. Then, before she had made the still rich, dark hair tidy, and perhaps said a prayer to the little wooden Virgin in the corner of her bedroom, her pupil had arrived. Mrs. Sanderson was driven by a groom; her son was not with her.
Sidney had gone coursing with some people from East San Gabriel who kept hounds, she explained.