66 Why, am I not good? Ah, mamma, mamma! I am dying." Rosario burst into a flood of bitter and disconsolate tears. "What are these tears about?" said her mother, embracing her. "If they are tears of repentance, blessed be they." "I don't repent! I can't repent!" cried the girl, in a burst of sublime despair. She lifted her head, and in her face was depicted a sudden inspired strength. Her hair fell in disorder over her shoulders. Never was there seen a more beautiful image of a rebellious angel. "What is this? Have you lost your senses?" said Doña Perfecta, laying both hands on her daughter's shoulders. "I am going away!" said the girl with the exaltation of delirium. And she sprang out of bed. "Rosario, Rosario- my daughter! For God's sake, what is this?" “Ah mamma, señora!" exclaimed the girl, embracing her mother; "bind me fast!" "In truth, you would deserve it. What madness is this?" "Bind me fast! I am going away - I am going away with him!"... "Has he told you to do so? has he counseled you to do that? has he commanded you to do that?" asked the mother, launching these words like thunderbolts against her daughter. "He has counseled me to do it. We have agreed to be marWe must be married, mamma, dear mamma. I will love I know that I ought to love you I shall be forever lost if I do not love you." ried. you -I "Rosario, Rosario!" cried Doña Perfecta in a terrible voice, "rise!" "Have you seen him again since that night?" "Yes." "And you have written to him?" "I have written to him also. O señora! why do you look at me in that way? You are not my mother." "Would to God that I were not! Rejoice in the harm you are doing me. You are killing me; you have given me my death-blow!" cried Doña Perfecta, with indescribable agitation. "You say that that man You are not a woman! "Is my husband-I will be his wife, protected by the law. Why do you look at me in that way? Mother, mother, do not condemn me!" "You have already condemned yourself—that is enough. Obey me, and I will forgive you. Answer me - when did you receive letters from that man?" "To-day." "What treachery! what infamy!" cried her mother, roaring rather than speaking. "Had you appointed a meeting?" "Yes." 66 Here, here! I will confess everything, everything! I know it is a crime. I am a wretch; but you, my mother, will take me out of this hell. Give your consent. Say one word to me, only one word!" "That man here in my house!" cried Doña Perfecta, springing back several paces from her daughter. Rosario followed her on her knees. At the same instant three blows were heard, three crashes, three explosions. [Maria Remedios had spied upon Pepe Rey, the lover; shown Caballuco, a brutal servant and ally, how to follow him stealthily into the garden; and had then come to arouse the house.] It was the heart of Maria Remedios knocking at the door through the knocker. The house trembled with an awful dread. Mother and daughter stood as motionless as statues. A servant went downstairs to open the door, and shortly afterward Maria Remedios, who was not now a woman but a basilisk enveloped in a mantle, entered Doña Perfecta's room. Her face, flushed with anxiety, exhaled fire. "He "He is there, he is there," she said, as she entered. got into the garden through the condemned door." She paused for breath at every syllable. "I know already," returned Doña Perfecta, with a sort of bellow. Rosario fell senseless to the floor. "Let us go downstairs," said Doña Perfecta, without paying any attention to her daughter's swoon. The two women glided downstairs like two snakes. The maids and the manservant were in the hall, not knowing what to do. Doña Perfecta passed through the dining-room into the garden, followed by Maria Remedios. "Fortunately we have Ca-Ca-Ca-balluco there," said the canon's niece. "Where?" "In the garden, also. He cli-cli-climbed over the wall." Doña Perfecta explored the darkness with her wrathful eyes. Rage gave them the singular power of seeing in the dark that is peculiar to the feline race. "I see a figure there," she said. "It is going towards the oleanders." "It is he," cried Remedios. "But there comes Ramos — Ramos!" [Cristóbal Ramos, or "Caballuco."] able. The colossal figure of the Centaur was plainly distinguish "Towards the oleanders, Ramos! Towards the oleanders!" Doña Perfecta took a few steps forward. Her hoarse voice, vibrating with a terrible accent, hissed forth these words:"Cristobal, Cristobal,- kill him!" A shot was heard. Then another. WHAT THE CANON THOUGHT. DURING the many years that I have lived at Orbajosa I have seen innumerable personages come here from the Court, some brought by the uproar of the elections, some to visit a deserted estate or see the antiquities in the Cathedral, and all talking to us of English plows and thrashing-machines, waterpowers, banks, and I know not what foolery besides. Let them be off with a thousand devils! We are very well without visits from these gentlemen of the Court, much more without this perpetual clamor about our poverty, and the greatness and wonder of other places. More knows the madman at home than the wise man abroad. Is it not so, Señor Don Jose? VOL. IX.-30 RICHARD GALL. RICHARD GALL, Scottish poet, was born at Linkhouse, near Dunbar, December, 1776; died at Edinburgh, May 10, 1801. At eleven years of age he was apprenticed to his maternal uncle, who was a carpenter and builder. After some time spent in this apprenticeship, he ran away and went to Edinburgh. Here he spent his leisure in study and writing, and was regarded as a poet of great promise. Gall was not destined to fulfill this promise. FAREWELL TO AYRSHIRE. SCENES of woe and scenes of pleasure, Bonny Doon, sae sweet at gloamin', Bowers, adieu! where love decoying, Then the stroke, oh, how severe ! Friends, that parting tear, reserve it Could I think I did deserve it, How much happier would I be ! |