In the family there was an old duenna, who had taken charge of the mother when she was young, and, to her superintending care, the little one was intrusted.
Years before, the old duenna came from Spain with the mother's family, and her love for the beautiful lady whom she had nursed in infancy, almost amounted to a passion; but for the proud Don Carlos, the husband, she had a jealous hatred, though he was always kind to her, and made her life in the "wilds of the strange country," (thus she always spoke of California,) as pleasant as possible.
Though she called herself a Christian, the wild blood of the Moors flowing through her veins, tinged her life with the mysticism and fire of that fated race.
Sometimes she would give herself over to strange devices and superstitions, which were very displeasing to her devout mistress, but the old woman covered these distasteful habits with so much art and affection, that she enjoyed the confidence and love of the good lady, and generally every thing moved on very smoothly and pleasantly, at the Buenna Vineyard.
The house was large and commodious, built, like most Spanish houses in California, in the form of a square, with an open court in the center, and broad piazzas on all sides. It was very cool and pleasant, with its latticed windows, and vine-covered porches.
In the rear was a beautiful garden, surrounded with a high, strong wall, and massive gates with bolts and bars.
There, in a grape-vine covered arbor, the purple fruit hanging within reach, the old duenna loved to sit, spinning lazily with her distaff, now and then stopping to see that no harm came to the little Lenore in her play, and often calling her to her side, to listen to some quaint old Moorish legend.
The father and mother were very fond of their little daughter, and gave her every thing that heart could wish. One day, when the little girl was about ten years old, the father called her to him, and said: "Papa is going away, far across the waters to the fair castellated land, which has been your childhood's dream, to dear, beautiful Spain, and what shall I bring back for my little daughter?"
Lenore's eyes grew large and liquid. "Beautiful Spain! beautiful Spain!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands in ecstasy.