Marcelino was the first to speak.
"The presage of the rising sun," said he, "may be fulfilled. The liberty we shall achieve to-day may be soon clouded over, the storm may burst upon us, and all our efforts may be long unavailing to raise the people from the sloth and ignorance into which they have fallen under Spanish rule, but this sun over which the storm-cloud has fallen, this sun which is now hidden from us, will shine out again to-morrow when the storm has passed over. This storm is but the herald of the winter, which will tear off the last leaves from the trees, which will wither up the few remaining flowers. It is but the first of many storms, but they also will pass over. Winter will give place to spring. Again the genial sun will shine out, clothing the whole earth with verdure. The earth, refreshed and invigorated by the stern discipline of winter, will give new strength to the trees, fresh beauty to the flowering shrubs, and in the joyous springtime we shall forget the storms of winter. Shall it not be so with us, Magdalen? Life has many storms in store for us, but we will not shrink from facing them. Shall we not walk together, cheering and strengthening each other, looking together in faith to the future?"
Magdalen's lips spoke no answer to his question, but her eyes looked up into his with a brave confidence, which was answer sufficient.
"Señor Don Marcelino, shall I not tie your horse under the shed, your saddle will be sopping wet in five minutes?"
It was the gardener who spoke, an old man with a face like a block of wood. How long he had been standing there neither of them knew.
"Leave it," said Marcelino, turning sharply on him.
"You must not go yet," said Magdalen, "I have so much to ask you. Papa is asleep, so I can make coffee for you myself."
Old Antonio got no further answer, and stood looking after them as they went back into the house together. Then, with a wink of his cunning old eyes, he hobbled to the gate, and taking the horse by the bridle led him away.
An hour later, Marcelino and Magdalen again stood in the porch side by side and hand in hand. Still the rain poured down, still the wind sighed mournfully among the trees, still the withered leaves broke off from the swaying branches, and gathered in sodden masses on the wet ground; over all hung the leaden sky, and the far-off towers and domes of the churches were invisible, shrouded in thick mist and driving rain. The prospect as they looked out was dismal, yet they looked upon it with cheerful eyes, the confidence which filled their hearts made them oblivious to aught else than their own thoughts.
"Come to me when all is settled and tell me what you have done," whispered Magdalen.