855 
 
BANCROFT 
 LIBRARY 
 
 < 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 CALIF. FICTION 
 COLLECTION 
 NOT FOR USE 
 

 A 
 
 ' 
 
 
OF 
 
 R fragmentary tale 
 
 Half told and half inferred. 
 Rs full of sighs and heartache tones 
 
 Rs song of prisoned bird. 
 
 CARRIE STEVENS ^WRITER, 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO: 
 ERA COMPANY, 420 MONTGOMEEY ST. 
 1886. 
 
All rights reserved. 
 GOLDEN ERA COMPANY. 
 

 TO 
 
 MY CHILDREN,. 
 
 WILLIAM, MARY, ROY ^ DELLn, 
 
 Whnss loving faith has been my inspiration, 
 
 and my lifs's anchcr, this little 
 
 brain waif is Ini/ingly 
 
 dedicated, 
 
NIGHTFALL AT SANTA BARBARA, 
 
 A precious amber vase just filled from elysian fountains 
 
 Whose sacred libation is poured to the year's expiring ember, 
 
 A chalice whose wine is spilled over ocean and islands and mountains 
 Is the close of this perfect day of our California December. 
 
 Like ghosts of the Past stand the towers, cross-tipped, of the Church of the Mission, 
 While closer and closer the shadows creep round them like stricken things ; 
 
 The shadows that seem like the souls of the years that have bowed at its altar, 
 Or like land birds blown out over ocean, that droop their desolate wings. 
 
PART I. 
 
 Where the roses' rich gifts are completes!, 
 Where sea-winds kiss odorous trees, 
 
 Where Song's liquid numbers are sweetest, 
 Santa Barbara looks out o'er the seas. 
 
 ERE are the letters, just as they were 
 put away almost twenty years ago, yel- 
 lowed by time, the blue cord that held 
 them, faded and worn. There is no reason 
 to withhold their contents now, for the 
 hearts whose pulse-beats their faded char- 
 acters chronicled, are stilled forever. 
 
 A slender shaft at Lone Mountain, be- 
 neath which rests the fair golden head of 
 her who was dearer to me than a sister ; 
 a cross-marked grave in Spain, that lies 
 adjacent to a famous cholera hospital with- 
 in the walls of which a noble life was 
 nobly ended in the cause of suffering 
 
 humanity, these will not be affected if I tell the story of the 
 
 letters. 
 
 Memory takes me back over the years that are gone, to the day I 
 
 saw her last my dearest friend, Agnes Lee. Her image is before 
 
me as vividly to-day as it was the day I bade her "good-bye" on 
 the Santa Barbara steamer that carried her from me forever. She 
 went to spend a year in that southern city ; before the year had 
 passed, I was called suddenly to my eastern home, and we never 
 met again. Let me shut my eyes and recall her image as she 
 stood on the deck of the old Orizaba ; her slender form outlined 
 against the background of wave and sky ; her gracefully poised head 
 with its mass of golden hair ; the luminous grey eyes, that were 
 fitting windows of the pure, noble soul within ; the tender, sensitive 
 mouth that must have love or suffer ; the delicate hands that 
 clasped those of her two children, Paul and Mary, as though they 
 were the anchors of her life as they were. A pure, true woman, 
 capable of deep feeling, of happiness, or suffering. 
 
 In her early girlhood she had married Captain Lee. I could 
 never understand why she did so. It was one of those incongruous 
 unions that we see sometimes, the sight of which gives one the heart- 
 ache. He was a stern, cold, undemonstrative man, born to com- 
 mand, recognizing no course of conduct from those around him but 
 obedience to his will. Agnes' nature was such that she would be a 
 faithful, dutiful wife, under almost any circumstances ; yet there were 
 moments when I fancied I detected faint scintillations of a Vesuvius 
 in her soul, of which she was utterly unconscious, poor child ! And 
 I trembled lest she should encounter in her life journey an electric 
 force that would break the seals of her soul's deepest fountains. 
 Then God help her ! 
 
 Two living children, and a little grave at Lone Mountain these 
 were the fruits of the twelve years of her married life. 
 
 And now, during his absence in China, Captain Lee was sending 
 
Agnes and the two children to Santa Barbara. She was never very 
 robust, and the climate would benefit her. She was devoted to art, 
 and her brush and pencil would find ample scope for their most 
 inspired expressions in this lovely region. 
 
 And thus we parted, she, with many regrets that I could not share 
 her journey, with many promises to write me, almost daily, in the 
 form of a iournal, her impressions of the scenery and people; and 
 I, with a keen foreboding, only too sadly realized, that our parting 
 was forever. 
 
 And now, I will let her letters and journal tell the story. I open 
 the first : 
 
 "SANTA BARBARA, June i, 18 
 
 " MY DEAREST FRIEND : ' Oh ! what is so rare as a day ir June ? ' 
 I never realized the full meaning of that line until I came here. I 
 wish I could photograph this lovely scene upon your vision, Kate, 
 and make you so enamored of its witchery that you would desert the 
 bleaker North for this warm, delicious South. We anchored yes, 
 literally anchored in Santa Barbara harbor last Sunday, about four 
 o'clock in the afternoon. So lovely a crescent of soft, undulating 
 waters, imprisoning, in its ardent embrace, such glorious lights and 
 shades, caught from the admiring sky overhead, and all framed in 
 such greenness of landscape, such golden brownness of hills, over 
 which palpitates, as a living presence, the warm, magnetic atmosphere 
 all these surely are not found anywhere else upon the earth. Paul 
 and Mary were fairly wild with enjoyment, which culminated when a 
 dear little row-boat was let down from the steamer's side, and we took 
 our seats in it to go on shore. 
 
" After rowing about a mile we landed on a wharf extending a few 
 rods from the shore, and found carriages waiting to convey us to the 
 city proper. The sun was just setting as we drove up State street, 
 and the whole warm, delicious atmosphere was luminous with the 
 rich caressing radiance so peculiar to the southern climate. State 
 street is a broad avenue on each side of which are great, roomy, 
 private mansions with their wide corridors and open windows, half 
 hidden by roses and pepper trees. This latter is the most graceful 
 thing I ever saw in the form of a tree, with its dainty, lace-like 
 foliage, and its true home is in the south. 
 
 " The people were all on the streets, I imagine, enjoying the love- 
 liness of the evening. As we drove through its length we observed 
 them with interest You know the inhabitants are mostly Spanish 
 and native Californians. The ladies were bare-headed, or wore 
 only lace shawls over their heads, put on in that inimitable manner 
 peculiar to the Spanish women, who are always graceful, and always 
 attractive to me. 
 
 " At many doors were seated groups, from which almost invariably 
 came the sound of the guitar accompanying some Spanish song. The 
 Spanish song is almost always an ardent, passionate appeal, half reli- 
 gion and all love, and I think some of the airs the most syren-like I 
 ever heard. The atmosphere is always rich with the odor of roses 
 and other fragrant blossoms, the sound of music is seldom stilled ; 
 the nights are lovelier than one can imagine who has never been in 
 the South and, dear, I believe we will be very happy and contented 
 here. We are to live in the family of Don Ramon Carillo, an old 
 friend of Captian Lee. The family consists of eight children, besides 
 an unlimited number of cousins and other relatives, to the forty -first 
 
remove for they believe in ties of blood, these warm-hearted, hospi- 
 table people. These, with a large retinue of servants, make quite a 
 community in itself. 
 
 " The house was an old-fashioned adobe > originally, but has been 
 remodeled somewhat after a more modern fashion. The rooms are 
 immense. Let me describe them to you. On the first floor are all 
 the living rooms, including a large room for dancing and evening 
 amusements, furnished with two pianos, besides any number of 
 guitars and other musical instruments. 
 
 " The floors are all guiltless of that abomination of civilization, the 
 filth-harboring woolen carpet ; but the painted floors are as clean as 
 they can be, and soft rugs and mats are thrown down wherever they 
 can do the most good. Our sleeping rooms are on the second floor, 
 and are great, wide, airy apartments that are delightfully comfortable. 
 Mine contains a large bed, and two small ones for the children ; and 
 it has, oh ! I don't know how many windows opening upon the cor- 
 ridor outside. We have only to step outside of our room to reach 
 the loveliest climbing roses you ever saw, great, golden-hearted, 
 satin-petaled masses of fragrance and beauty that give me exquisite 
 pleasure. We have roses in unlimited quantities in our room all the 
 time, for Anita, the maid who has the care of it, knows my passion for 
 flowers, and together with the children, keeps the vases always freshly 
 filled. And the children I wish you could see their enjoyment ! 
 The only thing to mar their perfect bliss is the fact that figs and 
 grapes are not ripe yet. Yes let me repeat my former assertion I 
 believe we shall be very happy and contented here. 
 
 " JUNE 6th. 
 
 " If I were a man, Kate, I should certainly fall deliberately in love 
 
with Rose Carillo, who is the loveliest creature*! ever saw. She is 
 Don Ramon's eldest daughter, and his idol, of course. She is in her 
 nineteenth year, and it would seem that Southern beauty and grace 
 had found their personification in her. Tall, with a form ex- 
 quisitely molded, every motion of which is grace, her face a 
 dainty oval, with that rich, olive complexion peculiar to her race 
 for Don Ramon is a native of old Castile her hair a luxuriant mass 
 of satin blackness, that falls almost to her feet when she stands erect. 
 But her eyes great, wondrous orbs, that melt or burn as the mood 
 of the spirit behind them prompts these are her chief glory. She 
 is a queen, an empress, among women. 
 
 How attractive these dark people are to me ! I presume it is 
 always the case with us red-haired sensitives. I think I was first 
 attracted to you, Kate, because you are so delightfully brown. 
 
 " Don Ramon is a courtly Spanish gentleman of the old school ; 
 his wife, the Dona Inez, is a sweet, gentle, motherly soul, who pets 
 and cuddles her children, worships her husband, and fulfills all her 
 duties according to the standard of her race. The children are a 
 happy lot of lads and lasses, all pretty, and all lovingly devoted to 
 * papa ' and ' mama ' and each other. Rose and her father speak 
 English perfectly ; in fact, Rose has been well educated, having 
 passed some time at school in San Francisco. Dona Inez does not 
 speak English at all, and the children only slightly ; so you see I 
 shall be compelled to brush up the Spanish lessons of my school- 
 days. I believe I can conquer the musical cadences of the language 
 in a short time, as Rose has taken me in hand as a pupil, and I am 
 to give her lessons in painting. 
 
" JUNE i2TH. 
 
 " But a genuine Spanish baile, Kate, is a most delightful affair. 
 Yesterday was Rose's birthday, and Don Ramon made a party in 
 her honor. The true Spaniard takes time for enjoyment, and has 
 no patience with us hard-working Yankees. 
 
 " The great dancing room was one garden of flowers. The Santa 
 Barbara band, composed entirely of native Californians, was ordered 
 for the occasion ; and for a day or two, troops of servants were 
 running hither and yon, preparing the banquet for the evening. Gay 
 lanterns were distributed through the grounds, for the promenading 
 and chatting between dances were to be done out of doors to a great 
 extent. In one corner of the room was a little marble stand on 
 which were placed several baskets containing egg shells, from which 
 the contents had been carefully removed, and the shells filled with 
 gilt and various colored paper cut as fine as possible. These were 
 great mysteries to Paul and Mary, who waited with much curiosity 
 until evening, to see of what possible use egg shells could be at a 
 party. 
 
 " There was a large company of the very elite of the Spanish 
 society, together with several American families. There were many 
 pretty girls, but my gorgeous Rose surpassed them all, as much as 
 her name- flower surpasses the field poppy. She was resplendent in a 
 dress of pale pink silk. Her eyes were luminous as suns. Through 
 all the mazes of the graceful Spanish quadrille she seemed the em- 
 bodiment of the poetry of motion. My delight was in watching her 
 throughout the evening. She has conceived a warm attachment for 
 me, and playfully calls me her 'Saint Agnes,' or as she often puts it, 
 'Santita mia. J 
 
" The dancing continues at a Spanish baile, until the dancers 
 become weary, then all rest for half an hour or longer, occupying 
 the time in chatting, singing or promenading. At such intervals we 
 saw the use of those mysterious egg-shells cascarones, as they are 
 called in Spanish. A gentleman desires to express his admiration 
 for a lady, or compliment her ; he, therefore, takes one of these cas- 
 carones and breaks it over her head, the minced paper falling in a 
 rainbow shower over her hair. The belles of the evening thus 
 presented a very parti-colored appearance before the baile was 
 over. Paul and Mary were immensely amused with all they saw. 
 They are beginning to say many words in Spanish, and I doubt not, 
 will learn to speak the language before our year is ended. 
 
 " But I am worried about Rose, dear. Perhaps I am foolish, but 
 I feel anxious in spite of myself. A frequent caller at the house is a 
 lawyer by the name of Charles Howard. He is Don Ramon's legal 
 adviser, and, therefore, has a good reason for his calls, as business 
 is nearly always the excuse. He is a man of perhaps thirty years of 
 age, who some ten years ago was drawn into a marriage with a woman 
 much older than himself. She is not his equal intellectual!^, and I 
 do not imagine their married life is of the most loving sort. He is 
 one of those golden haired Apollos, that my dark-eyed Rose would 
 fancy in spite of herself. He danced with her several times last 
 night, and I fancied I saw a brighter look in her eyes, and a richer 
 color on her cheeks when she was with him. I wish he would keep 
 away from her. 
 
 " He has two pretty little children to whom he is devotedly 
 attached. His wife is a good mother, it is said, and I don't see 
 why he cannot stay at home with his family. However, his wife and 
 
children were present last evening. I dont like her. She is a small, 
 common nature, and oh ! dear, I don't know what I dread. 
 But he is a very attractive man, of superior intelligence, and a thor- 
 ough gentleman in every particular of manner and speech. 
 
 " Maybe I'm tired and nervous to-night. I guess I'll go to bed 
 and sleep off my fears. Rose has just come in for a moment's good- 
 night chat. She takes my face between her hands, turns it up to her 
 while she kisses me and says, Buena noche, Santita mia, you are 
 tired ; sleep as late as possible to-morrow morning ;' and I will. 
 
 " Good night, darling. 
 
 " YOUR AGNES." 
 
PART II. 
 
 Among the silver threads of Life, 
 
 So closely twine Love's golden strands, 
 
 That when we loose their clinging hold, 
 The fabric crumbles in our hands. 
 
 " SANTA BARBARA, July 5th. 
 
 E celebrated 'our glorious Independence,' yester- 
 day, with a picnic down the coast. I wish you 
 could have been with us, dear. There were few 
 beside the members of Don Ramon's family. By 
 the way, there have been two additions to our 
 family circle within the past few days, of whom 
 I must tell you. The first under consideration is 
 Colonel Horton, an old acquaintance of Captain Lee. I believe 
 he has been in several Indian campaigns, and is quite a hero in the 
 eyes of civilians. He has a tall, military figure, and the manners of 
 a king ; commanding, yet polished and courteous. His black hair, 
 and heavy, dark moustache are sprinkled with gray, while his deep 
 gray eyes are shaded by heavy, black brows. He has one of those 
 firm, square chins that always indicate strength of character, and 
 there is something about the man that interests one. 
 
 " The other person is a brother of Don Ramon, who has lately 
 come from Spain. He, also, is quite a character. For many years 
 he was one of the leading physicians of Madrid, and in the pursuit 
 
II 
 
 of his profession was brought in contact with nearly every form of 
 suffering humanity. His whole energies were given to his work, and 
 to the relief of the afflicted. He seemed so impressed with the idea 
 of working solely for humanity, that, a few years ago, he took holy 
 orders, and was ordained a priest, devoting his life to the work of 
 aiding the afflicted, not only as a physician, but in other ways. All 
 this Rose told me of him before I met him, so you may imagine I 
 watched him with some interest. 
 
 " Father Antonio, as he is called, is rather below the medium in 
 height, with the olive complexion peculiar to his race. His dark eyes 
 are singularly expressive, varying with his mood in a fashion peculiarly 
 characteristic. They flashed like flames the other day, at some tale 
 of wrong and outrage, and I thought I should always stand in awe 
 of their owner. Yet, soon afterwards, a little child of our party fell 
 on the rocks, and was badly hurt ; Father Antonio sprang to her as- 
 sistance at once, and while aiding him to relieve her pain, I acci- 
 dentally encountered his glance. I do not think I ever before saw 
 an expression of such sweetness and tenderness in human eyes. He 
 seems singularly self-forgetful, yet is rather reserved and reticent in a 
 manner that gives one the impression of haughtiness. 
 
 " Well ! Kate, how I have gossiped about our new-comers ! I know 
 you will smile at my letter. But, remember, our life is so quiet here, 
 that even trifling incidents assume proportions of importance. This 
 must be my excuse. 
 
 " We went down the Coast in carriages as far as Rincon Point, 
 where there is a stage station. Then fires were built and we had a 
 clam-bake, all of which was very pleasant. The children enjoyed 
 the bliss of running through the waves with bare feet, which, of 
 
12 
 
 course, is a new experience to Paul and Mary. They are becoming 
 regular little Spaniards. It would amuse you to hear them chatter 
 the language. They say nothing in English that they can possibly 
 twist into this musical idiom. 
 
 " This life is very restful and pleasant to me, Kate. It seems a 
 leaf from Bohemia, and I dread the thought of ever returning to a 
 practical, matter-of-fact existence again. Did I tell you Mr. Howard, 
 that lawyer I mentioned before, was of our picnic party ? He came 
 out on horseback after we had arrived at the grounds. I watched 
 him closely. I don't know what he means by keeping with Rose so 
 much. I do not like it ; and yet, somehow, I feel that he is not a 
 dishonorable man. And Rose, dear girl I watched her every 
 glance and expression jealously, and I feel that she is much interested 
 in him, more than she realizes. I want to snatch her in my arms 
 and run away with her. She had her guitar with her, to which she 
 sings divinely these bewildering Spanish songs. One, whose air 
 is the most impassioned I ever heard, she has promised to put 
 into English for me some time. There is something in these 
 Spanish songs, with the guitar accompaniment, that arouses all the 
 instincts of the tropics in one's nature ; they draw my heart through 
 my eyes, in tears, and I want to run away from myself. 
 
 " Rose has just come to my door, and in her pretty liquid tones 
 called to me ' Santita, we are going to take you on a famous trip 
 to-morrow. We are all going up in the hills beyond the town, on 
 horseback, and you can make some lovely sketches while we are 
 resting. You know we Espanoles never forget to rest when it is nee. 
 essary.' 
 
" I reply, ' What, Rose, all of you ? Do you mean your mother and 
 all the muchachitos ? ' 
 
 "'What nonsense !' she replies, laughing; { I mean papa, Col. 
 Horton, Uncle Antonio, you and I, and I believe papa has invited 
 Mr. Howard to be of the party.' This latter clause was spoken with 
 a hightened color, which my keen glance did not tend to relieve. 
 
 "July 25th. 
 
 " How good these people are to me, Kate ! Each seems to vie 
 with the other in making my life as pleasant as possible. I seem to 
 live in a dream of southern glory. Sunshine, brighter than you have 
 ever seen in your northern home ; the beauty and fragrance of ever- 
 blooming flowers ; music, almost without cessation ; and moonlight 
 nights that remind one of the vale of Cashmere isn't that a list of 
 attractions to arouse your envy ? Our life has been a constant rou- 
 tine of walks, drives, or horseback rides during the past three weeks, 
 and we have all become wonderfully good friends during these days 
 in which the conventionalities have been somewhat ignored. For 
 you know, one cannot take the strictest rules of etiquette into the 
 woods, or sailing on the water, when the waves are liable to give him 
 a playful wetting. Father Antonio occasionally accompanies us, but 
 he is much occupied during the day, and does not often join our 
 circle until evening. Col. Horton is very kind and thoughtful. 
 His acquaintance with Captain Lee gives him the privileges of an 
 old friend to me and the children. 
 
 And yet, I have come away from the happy party down stairs, 
 to-night, dear friend, to commune with you, because my heart is so 
 lull of memories that I shall suffocate unless I feel the clasp of your 
 spirit-hand ajittle while, and the benediction of your love. You 
 
M 
 
 know this is the anniversary of my baby's death, and also of my 
 marriage. Oh ! my precious baby ! Must I wait until I put off this 
 weary thralldom of the flesh before I can again hold his beloved form 
 to my heart, or feel the caressing of his little hands ? Kate, Kate ! 
 I'm all at sea to-night. As I pace the long room like a caged 
 animal, I feel that there is much of the caged animal in my nature. 
 I'm afraid of myself. I want to talk to you to-night as I never yet 
 have spoken to any one, and as I could speak to no one but you ; for 
 in all my life, since I have known you, 
 
 ' I never turned round and missed you 
 From my side in one hour of affliction or doubt.' 
 
 I know, in the genuine battles of life, there is no help for us from any 
 source but the Divine. Those who love us can only stand by and 
 pray for us in the greatest extremities of our lives. You have guessed 
 without my telling, that away back in the days of romantic girlhood, 
 I staked all in life upon the hope of love and kindness and domestic 
 happiness. I do not believe in the doctrine of mistakes, else I might 
 use the term in connection with my life. Destiny had other uses for 
 me, I presume, that were inconsistent with the gratification of the 
 strong woman nature that demanded so much. The highest standard 
 of life is duty. I know those four letters are seared upon my 
 heart. I only ask God and his angels to help me to perform my 
 whole duty unflinchingly to the happy end of life. 
 
 " Dear, love meant so much to me that was high, pure and divine 
 The ideal reached the clouds no, not clouds, but beyond the clouds 
 into the heavenly ether. That ideal I cling to as my salvation 
 There is, in some far distant stage of existence, the realization of our 
 
grandest ideals, else creation were a lie. Whatever may be the 
 design of these long years of starvation, I believe the whole plan is 
 right and good. I also believe that some day, in another life never 
 in this I shall encounter the grand nature that only can realize the 
 ideal. 
 
 " There is no such reality here. I live for that far distant time, 
 and in the intervening ages in which I am becoming worthy of that 
 hour, I pray for strength to do nothing that may mar or retard the 
 completeness of it. I know there is in my nature a depth that can 
 never be fathomed here ; I know this perfectly, therefore I walk in 
 armor. And yet I come back to what I said in the beginning, ' I 
 am afraid of myself at times.' Pray for me, dear girl ; I know it 
 will aid me. Forgive this wild letter, and do not misunderstand me ; 
 you never did. Your faith and love are my refuge, Kate Good 
 night. 
 
 " AUGUST 8th. 
 
 " Such trouble as I have been having with Rose ! I don't know 
 what I am going to do with the dear girl, more than to try my best to 
 hold her firmly in the right course. I will tell you the whole story. 
 Yesterday afternoon I was alone in the sitting-room, finishing a sketch 
 from memory that I had taken of the old Mission Church. For 
 some reason there was no one else at home but Rose and the servants. 
 I was working with no thought on anything but my work, when she 
 came into the room and stood beside me, with one arm thrown around 
 me. Finally she spoke with hesitation, half playfully : 
 
 " ' Santita, you remember I promised you a translation of that 
 song, the air.of which you like so well. " Un adios" it is called, 
 only I have re-christened it "Tempest-Tossed." ' 
 
i6 
 
 " ' Yes,' I replied, interestedly, putting down my brush ; ' I am very 
 anxious to hear the words of that song. The air thrills me so strangely 
 that I am sure the words must have some hidden power, also. I am 
 not sufficiently advanced in my Spanish studies to be able to get the 
 real meaning of the poetry. Have you translated your " Tempest- 
 Tossed " for me, Rose ? ' 
 
 " ' Si, hermanita^ wasn't I industrious to do so when you know I 
 don't like work? But this is just for you alone, and I do not want 
 any one else to seek.' 
 
 "There was something nervous and constrained in her manner, 
 although she tried to seem careless and indifferent, as she handed me 
 a folded paper. 
 
 " c Oh ! Rose, I am tired,' I said ; ' can you not complete your 
 kindness by reading the song to me? I shall appreciate it much 
 more.' 
 
 "'Why, yes, dear; if you wish it very much,' and she took a 
 foot-stool at my feet, while I leaned back in my easy chair and 
 watched her. My heart was filled with admiration and love for the 
 beautiful girl, and I was thinking more of her, than of her reading, 
 when something in the words arrested my attention, and I listened 
 with a great heartache for her. But let me give you the impassioned 
 verses, just as she read them in her low, musical fashion, trembling 
 and hesitating sometimes, but reading to the close. This is the 
 song: 
 
 TEMPEST TOSSED. 
 
 What does it mean, this tyrant spell that holds me 
 
 A captive in its chains ; 
 That thrills my wayward heart with strong emotion, 
 
 Love's passion, and its pains? 
 
'7 
 
 Oh, restless soul ! that beats Life's bars unceasing, 
 
 A tiger held in thrall ! 
 Oh, passion's surge ! that would engulf calm reason 
 
 And give to Love Life's all. 
 
 Can I not curb the strong, defiant feeling 
 
 That struggles in my soul, 
 And scorns all forms and laws that cold convention 
 
 Would frame in Love's control ? 
 
 I strive in vain ; for all that Life could grant me, 
 
 Or Hope's bright vision greet, 
 My passionate heart would, haughty as an empress, 
 
 Fling proudly at your feet, 
 
 And ask no gift from you in compensation, 
 
 No love-thrill in return. 
 My own unsought from Life's rich depths must greet me, 
 
 All else my heart must spurn. 
 
 I bear no thought of shame for this strong passion 
 
 Of my best womanhood ; 
 Love bears God's seal, and its divine expression 
 
 Is always pure and good. 
 
 You are to me the noblest realization 
 
 Of manhood, grand and true, 
 The one man in God's universe. I care not 
 
 What I may be to you. 
 
 And thus to live swayed by a god-like passion, 
 
 That may not be expressed ; 
 To bravely strive, yet never quite subduing 
 
 Love's longing and unrest. 
 
 "She read the last words almost in a whisper, and I could feel 
 her form shiver, as she leaned against me. 
 
i8 
 
 " ' Rose ! Rose ! ' I said, with a feeling of agony that must have 
 expressed itself in my voice, c never sing that song again, or 
 think of it ! You must not ! Oh, my poor child ! you are tottering on 
 a fearful brink ! ' 
 
 " She bowed her head in my lap, trembling visibly, as she replied : 
 
 " * Sister Agnes, I am no longer on the brink. I am in the great, 
 deep abyss, God help me ! I love him as only one of my nature and 
 my race can love. I do not think he gives me a moment's thought ; 
 he does not care for me, why should he ? I do not want to desire 
 his love. He is all that is honorable and good ; and yet, I am con- 
 scious of only this, in every fiber of my soul and body, 1 love him, I 
 love him ! 
 
 " Hush ! Rose,' I cried, ' hush ! remember what he is the hus- 
 band of another woman.' 
 
 " ' As if I could ever forget it ! ' she replied passionately. * Sister 
 Agnes, the nature of a Spanish woman can no more be held in the 
 grooves of propriety and conventionalism than a mountain torrent. 
 God made me as I am, and He knows I am not to blame for loving 
 the husband of another woman.'' 
 
 " No, dear child,' I said, taking both her little, hot hands in 
 mine ; ' you are not to blame for that, but you are very much to 
 blame, if by one act or word, you do aught that could give one pang 
 to that other woman, were she the most loving and sensitive of 
 wives.' 
 
 "< Agnes, can you doubt me? I do not propose to do anything 
 but feel and suffer. You do not understand my nature. How can 
 one of your cold Northern blood understand our Southern intensity ? 
 Charles Howard is the soul of honor. He would die before he could 
 
do a dishonorable act. And I ? Why Agnes ! ' her low, impassioned 
 tones were like music as she spoke, ' it is no idle expression when I 
 say that I would give my life for his happiness, or his good, as readily 
 as I give you a rose ; and yet so proud am I that I would not by one 
 wave of my hand call him to my side, unless he came first of his 
 own free will. There is no sacrifice I would not make for him ; yet 
 I would not cross this room to win him, were he entirely free, unless 
 I knew that I am to him what he is to me. With this knowledge in 
 my heart, and no bonds of honor to bind me, there is no place in 
 God's universe where I would not go to him. There is no chasm 
 my love could not bridge, no heights or depths it would not pierce, 
 to bring me to his side his equal, his queen.' 
 
 " She had risen in speaking, and was standing before me like a 
 goddess ; the glory of the heavens was shining in her eyes, and the 
 strength of her emotion seemed to exalt her before me. I raised my 
 eyes to reply to her, when there before me, in one of the long, 
 open French windows, stood Charles Howard. His face was pale 
 as marble, and the light in his eyes made me think of an eruption of 
 Vesuvius I once witnessed. Rose stood with her back to him, and 
 was unconscious of his presence. I knew he had heard her last 
 words, and perhaps more. I felt myself getting faint and dizzy 
 at the situation ; but was prevented making any movement in the 
 matter by Howard, who did not notice me at all, but came towards 
 Rose with both arms held out, exclaiming, with a passionate ring in 
 his voice : 
 
 "'Then come to me, my darling! God knows the best love of 
 your glorious nature can be but a response to what I have felt for 
 you since I first knew you.' 
 
20 
 
 " Rose turned, and instantly the proud look and carriage were 
 gone. She was simply the loving woman, who, with a low cry, 
 sprang into his arms, where he held her as though he intended that 
 nothing should ever separate them again. 
 
 "For a 'moment I was so overcome by this terrible complication 
 of affairs, that I felt weak enough to run away and never come back 
 again. Then the whole magnitude of their danger seemed to rise 
 up before me and invest me with personal responsibility in this mat- 
 ter, and to give me strength beyond myself. I went to them, took 
 Rose from him and held her closely in my arms while I said, with a 
 force that arrested his attention : 
 
 " ' Mr. Howard, are you insane ? Do you stop one moment to 
 consider the full meaning of your words and act ? Would you blast 
 the life of this precious girl ? ' 
 
 u ' Mrs. Lee,' he replied, with a dignity that won my respect. ' you 
 misunderstand my motives. I would not allow a breath to mar the 
 purity of her fame, which is more sacred to me than anything inearth 
 or heaven. God knows you would seem to have a right to judge me 
 harshly, but I never intended to let Rose know my, feelings for her. 
 I know that every instinct of honor and principle would seem to for- 
 bid it. This betrayal of my true self was unintentional. But know- 
 ing what I do now, I shall have but one aim in life henceforth, to 
 make the way plain and straight to put myself in a position where I can 
 claim her before the world. Until then I shall not allow myself the 
 bliss of even clasping her hand or meeting her dear eyes. If you 
 knew the whole story of my life, Mrs. Lee, you would not blame me 
 as I feel you do. Sometime you may know more of me. I know you 
 love Rose, as she does you. Will you not try to have faith in me, and 
 
21 
 
 believe that I am an honorable man, a proud man who holds himself 
 above the contamination of the mire of sensuality ? I will prove it 
 to you and I will claim my darling one day in a manner that even 
 you will approve.' 
 
 " His tone and manner were so manly that somehow, despite my- 
 self, I found that I did have faith in his expressions. 
 
 " 'Mr. Howard,' I said as frankly as I felt, 'I have faith in you 
 now. I believe you mean just what you say. But humanity is weak. 
 You must go beyond the reach of temptation at once. I, of course 
 know nothing of your life story, but I feel an interest in you, and shall 
 pray that these tangled threads may all be made straight. I love 
 Rose as my own younger sister. Her welfare is as precious to me as 
 that of my own little daughter.' 
 
 " * I am glad it is so,' she replied ; c I had already made arrange- 
 ments to go away to Santa Barbara for an indefinite period. I shall 
 now hasten those plans. Let me assure you once more that you shall 
 never have reason to doubt my honor. Before I go away, may I not 
 see you for a few moments ? There is much I would say to you, if 
 you will hear it.' 
 
 " I gave him the desired promise. I was getting very nervous lest 
 some other members of the family, should return and guess by our 
 appearance that something unusual had occurred. 1'hen I hastened 
 his departure and took Rose off to my room just in time to avoid 
 observation. Once inside my door and the key safely turned she 
 sank down, faint and weak, and lay sobbing in my arms like a child. 
 I kept her with me all night, giving a nervous headache, that stereo- 
 typed excuse, as my reason for doing so. And now, do you wonder 
 at my anxiety ? Rose clings to me as her only refuge, and I feel 
 
22 
 
 that I must be brave and strong to support her. Write soon, dear 
 Kate, and give me the comfort of some of your strong, good words. 
 
 u Your loving AGNES." 
 
PART III. 
 
 From the arms held out to embrace us, 
 
 We shrink with a moan, to pray 
 For the pressure of arms that are folded, 
 
 Forever and ever away. 
 
 "SANTA BARBARA, Aug 2Qth. 
 HAVE neglected you, Kate, during these sunny 
 August days ; but I have had so much to fill my 
 mind and heart that I could not write. There 
 has been a severe epidemic of measles raging 
 among the children of Santa Barbara for some 
 weeks. Two of Don Ramon's little ones were 
 quite ill for several days, having been stricken 
 with the disease a day or two after my last letter 
 to you. My own precious lambs are exempt 
 from the contagion as you know you probably 
 not having forgotten their two weeks' illness a year ago, through 
 which you helped me to nurse them. Therefore, having no fears for 
 their welfare to deter me, I have gone much among the little sufferers 
 of our acquaintance. You know I have a sort of ' gift' in the line of 
 hospital work, and I remember how you used to say I was never 
 happier than when fondling some sick baby or soothing the ails of 
 some old woman. 
 
 " Two weeks ago last night, Mrs. Howard sent for me to go to 
 her, as both her little girls were sick. Charles Howard had been 
 called suddenly and unexpectedly to San Francisco upon business 
 
24 
 
 and she was alone. You may imagine I was somewhat surprised at 
 the summons, but went at once. She met me at the door saying, 
 * Excuse me for sending for you, Mrs. Lee, but I am told you know 
 just what to do for sick children, and I am a poor nurse. I know 
 my children are very sick,, and I am afraid old Dr. Simmons is not 
 helping them.' 
 
 " I went with her to the bedroom where the little girls were tossing 
 and moaning in the delirium of fever. I saw immediately that their 
 condition was serious. Jennie, the elder, who is about nine years of 
 age, seemed in a half stupor which I did not like ; but Maude, the 
 younger child, who is near seven, was very restless. A great many 
 bottles with formidable labels and directions stood on a little table. 
 After a few minutes' careful inspection I said : 
 
 " ' Mrs. Howard, the little girls are very sick. This room is too 
 hot and close. Your sitting-room is cooler and has better ventila- 
 tion. Can we not arrange two cots there, where the children will be 
 more comfortable ?' 
 
 " 'Anything you think best, Mrs. Lee,' she exclaimed. ' I know 
 so little about nursing that I feel helpless in this case Will you not 
 stay with me and advise we what to do ?' I readily gave the desired 
 promise and we soon had two cool, comfortable cots in the pleasant 
 sitting-room to which we carried the little sufferers out of the stifling 
 bedroom. I was not pleased with the amount of drugs prescribed 
 by Dr. Simmons, and earnestly desired to toss the whole array of 
 bottles into the kitchen fire. But you know how one feels about 
 suggesting anything contrary to a physician's directions, even if he is 
 antediluvian in his ideas. Therefore, I remained silent while dose 
 after dose of strong nauseous drugs was poured down each poor little 
 
2 5 
 
 parched throat. Sad hours of anxious watching followed, broken by 
 an occasional call from some friendly neighbor, and the regular visits 
 of the fussy old doctor, who seemed bewildered and uncertain in the 
 management of the cases. I remained through the night, going home 
 in the early morning for rest and sleep. As I came in at the gate of 
 Don Ramon's home I met Father Antonio walking among the roses. 
 I do not know what there is in that strong, quiet face of his that 
 inspires me with such a feeling of rest of refuge in distress. There 
 is a certain dignity of character, a certain holding himself above the 
 multitude, that would seem to repel any personal familiarity, and yet 
 sometimes there flashes over me the feeling that in any terrible emer- 
 gency, spiritual or physical, I should turn instinctively to him as to 
 a rock of refuge. In my anxiety for my poor little patients this feel- 
 ing prompted me to respond to his courteous greeting by giving him 
 a full account of the symptons and mode of treatment of the sick 
 children. His face became very serious as he listened, and when I 
 had finished the recital he paused a moment in thought before 
 answering : 
 
 " ' You are quite right, Mrs. Lee, in your opinion that the little 
 ones are in danger, more from an incompetent physician than from 
 the disease. But my dear madame, you are very weary. It is not 
 right for you to give too much from your fund of vitality, although it 
 is given in a noble cause. What a fine nurse you are,' he said, smil- 
 ing. I never noticed before what an amount of sunshine there was 
 in his smile ; and as I passed into the house, a something from his 
 personality, as an emanation, seemed to go with me to soothe and 
 quiet me. 
 
 " I slept some hours, and when I awoke, Rose, dear girl, had 
 
26 
 
 brought me a silver tray containing a cup of delicious chocolate and 
 some other refreshments. Uncle Antonio says you must take this 
 and when you go back to your patients, he will accompany you,' she 
 said with a little quiver in her voice ; Oh, Agnes, do you think there 
 is any danger?' and the tear drops glistened on her long lashes. 
 
 ' There is danger, dear,' I replied, 'danger in the amount of drugs 
 they are compelled to take. If your Uncle could have had the man- 
 agement of their cases from the beginning the children would have 
 fared no worse than your little brother and sister.' She remained 
 silent while I took my chocolate, then said with a tone of dignity and 
 sweetness : 
 
 " ' Sister Agnes, I want to aid you in the care of the little sick ones. 
 You must let me relieve you with them. There can be not the least 
 impropriety while their father is away. Oh ! Agnes they are his 
 children, and I cannot tell you how it hurts me to think of their 
 suffering. I must help you with them until he comes.' 
 
 " I was thoughtful a moment before replying. The children needed 
 just such help as Rose could give them ; there was no reason in the 
 eyes of the community why she should not act a neighborly part to 
 Mrs. Howard. That eventful scene in the parlor, described in my 
 last letter, no one besides ourselves suspected. I believe she would 
 be happier ministering to the needs of the little ones, than to be idle, 
 therefore I replied : 
 
 " 'You may help me Rose; there is no reason why you should not.' 
 Then we went down to her uncle, who awaited us on the great wide 
 veranda, and together went to Mrs. Howard's. 
 
 " I watched Father Antonio closely, as he examined the .little ones, 
 and I did not gather hope from his face. 
 
27 
 
 " It was necessary for the children to have careful attention day and 
 night. The neighbors who had children of their own were fearful of 
 exposing them by coming in to assist Mrs. Howard, and it was impos- 
 sible to hire the proper kind of nursing, Therefore it devolved upon 
 us to do all we could. The mother looked worn and exhausted from 
 lack of sleep. Father Antonio came to our aid at once in his firm, 
 quiet manner, arranging that he and Rose should watch through the 
 night, and insisting that Mrs. Howard and T should retire, and leave 
 everything to his care. He seemed to take my burden from me in a 
 way that relieved my anxious heart, immensely. It was but a short 
 distance to Don Ramon's and as I thought best to go back to my 
 own darling's instead of remaining at Mrs. Howard's, he accompan- 
 ied me to the gate, and then returned to Rose, and their vigil. 
 
 " ' Through the next day two of the neighbors aided the mother 
 in the care of the children who were no better. In the evening as I 
 was passing out of Don Ramon's gate on my way to Mrs. Howard's 
 I was joined by Father Antonio who remarked ' It is best that I 
 should remain through the night with our invalids. I do not think it 
 wise for you to be alone with them and the mother.' 
 
 " Towards midnight the children seemed more quiet, and Father 
 Antonio said to me in a low voice : 
 
 " * Mrs. Lee, insist upon Mrs. Howard taking some refreshment, and 
 then getting some sleep. She will need all her vitality to meet what 
 is coming soon.' I looked at him in a startled way, because I had 
 thought the children improving. 
 
 " ' And what of their father? ' I questioned, anxiously. 
 
 " ' His partner has telegraphed him to return at once ; and he re- 
 
28 
 
 sponded that he would leave immediately, returning overland. He is 
 undoubtedly on the road now.' 
 
 " I went into the little kitchen where there was a fire, made some 
 tea and toast which I prevailed upon the mother sharing with me. She 
 was weary and unstrung which must account, in part, for the singular 
 confidences upon her part which followed. She is a peculiar woman; 
 I am not attracted to her, and yet I pity her. She is dark and 
 sallow in appearance, and looks much older than her husband. 
 Her abundant black hair is coiled at the back of her head, usually in 
 a manner that gives her a sort of witch-like appearance, and there is a 
 peculiar glitter in her small, black eyes that does not tend to lessen 
 this impression. She has one of those long, pointed chins, and the 
 mouth which usually accompanies it, giving a shrewish appearance 
 to the face. Yet she has been a pretty girl, and is a model house- 
 keeper; but I never liked model house-keepers. Their realm is gen- 
 erally the kingdom of small things, and they are more troubled about 
 much serving, and the infinitesimals of existence than anything of a 
 broader nature. 
 
 " As we sat by -the kitchen table drinking our tea, she suddenly 
 broke into a passion of sobs. I attempted to soothe her, and in a 
 few moments she became more calm, saying : 
 
 " ' Mrs. Lee, you have been so good to me, I want to talk to you 
 to-night about something I have never mentioned in California.' 
 
 "I told her I should be glad to do her any good in my power by 
 sympathy or otherwise. Then followed this singular recital, which 
 was all the more surprising, following the strange events of the past 
 few weeks. 
 
 " 'I believe my children are going to die, Mrs. Lee. I feel that 
 
2 9 
 
 it will be God's punishment to me for some things of my past life, 
 which weigh upon me so heavily to-night, that I must tell you of them 
 to ease my heart. 
 
 " ' About twelve years ago I was living in my father's home in one 
 of the interior towns of New York. I had been something of a belle 
 in my girlhood, and then, at twenty-eight had much attention, for my 
 gayety of manner and vivacity, I presume, as much as for my father's 
 wealth. But I had never thought seriously about marriage, or met 
 one whom I cared for in that way, until the time I speak of. There 
 came to our town, partly upon business and partly for recreation, a 
 gentleman from New Orleans named Victor Ellerton. He was a 
 genuine Southerner of the noblest sort, so I thought, handsome, 
 chivalrous and manly. He was two or three years my senior, and, 
 from the hour I met him, I loved him as I never loved before, or 
 since. He was the one idol of my wayward heart, and my stubborn 
 will was completely conquered. He was attentive to me, in fact, 
 conspicuously so, and I was happy. But you will see by what I tell 
 you, that my happiness excited the jealousy and malice of a young 
 girl of the place, Julia Gregory, who had boldly tried to win his at- 
 tention from the first. One day he came to me much agitated, 
 saying he had just received a telegram of his mother's illness, and was 
 compelled to return at once to New Orleans. There were several per- 
 sons present at his call, but as I accompanied him to the door, and 
 stood a moment with him, he took my hand in his, and said in a low 
 tone, " Miss Wilson Jennie may I call you ? I have so much I want 
 to tell you. May I write to you ? " As I gave the permission, I know 
 my face betrayed my love for him. I looked forward with happy 
 anticipations to the coming of the expected letter. Every day I went 
 
3 
 
 to the postoffice, but it never came. I cannot tell the feelings I en- 
 dured as the long summer passed and no word came from him. 
 Then malicious persons began to whisper that I had been jilted, and 
 my irritation was at its height, when one day as I called at the post- 
 office, Julia Gregory, whose father was postmaster, handed me a New 
 Orleans paper with a marked paragraph, remarking : 
 
 " * And so, Jennie, our Southerner was a gay deceiver after all, 
 wasn't he? But you and I don't care, do we? We know there is just 
 as good fish in the sea.' 
 
 " ' I took the paper and read the marriage of Victor Ellerton to 
 Alice Irwin, of New Orleans. I went home with rage in my soul. I 
 determined to let everybody see I was not a victim. Charles How- 
 ard was a wealthy young law student, who had come from New York 
 City to spend the summer, and had seemed somewhat attentive to 
 me in a bashful, boyish fashion. He was about twenty years of age 
 at that time, and I knew, as women do, sometimes, that if I exerted 
 all my power, I could ensnare his boyish heart, marry him and leave 
 the place now so hateful to me. Well, I carried out my plans com- 
 pletely. Mrs. Lee, I entrapped him into that marriage, that is just 
 what I did. I do not believe he ever loved me. I hope he has not ; 
 for I have never loved him. My two little girls were born within two 
 years of each other. When Maude was two months old, we deter- 
 mined to come to California. We were then in New York City. I 
 was sitting in my room holding the baby one evening, when the door- 
 bell rang, and a woman asked to see me. It was Mrs. Gregory, 
 Julia's mother, dressed in deep mourning. She told me something 
 that nearly froze the blood in my heart. It was simply this : Victor 
 
Ellerton had written to me, as he promised, again and again, but 
 Julia, while acting as her father's assistant, had stolen the letters, and 
 not daring to destroy them, had hidden them. At last she wrote an 
 anonymous letter to Ellerton, telling him I was false to him, and was 
 to marry another. The marriage notice she gave me to read was 
 that of his cousin of the same name. He had never married. Julia 
 had died a month before her mother's visit, and during her last sick- 
 ness had confessed everything to her mother, asking her to find me 
 and obtain my forgiveness. At the end of the story she gave me the 
 package of sealed letters his letters, written nearly four years before. 
 
 " ( Oh ! Mrs. Lee, I cannot tell you what I suffered. At first I 
 could not forgive Julia. I nearly broke her poor mother's heart with 
 my angry words. But before she left me I was calmer, and promised 
 to try to forgive her. Then, I went to my room and read those let- 
 ters. The first told me of his love, and asked me to be his wife. 
 The others were filled with eager inquiries of my silence, and the 
 last bade me farewell, as he had heard of my intended marriage. 
 How I hated my folly, and my weak revengeful nature, that had not 
 only caused me to sacrifice Charles Howard, but had placed a bar 
 between me and the only man I loved. I shed bitter tears over those 
 letters, and when Charles came home that evening, I was honest 
 enough to confess everything to him, and give them to him to read. 
 I supposed he would leave me at once. I should have done so, had 
 I been in his place. But he read them all through ; then, putting his 
 hand on my head, like a brother might have done, said : 
 
 " Poor Jennie ! I am so sorry for you. I read your heart's his- 
 tory long ago. If I could make you happy by leaving you, I should 
 do so. But you need my care and protection to raise our little girls, 
 
32 
 
 and for the present it is better for us to remain before the world as 
 we are. When our separation is necessary for your happiness, then 
 we will consider it. I do not blame you, or feel harshly towards you; 
 never think so one moment. But, this I do feel, that we are not in the 
 true sense husband and wife. Let us not degrade that holiest of all 
 relationships by falsehood of word or act. We will offer no sacrifice 
 to false god. Henceforth, you may confide in me as a sister, and I 
 will be a brother to you. ' 
 
 " * Since that day we have been husband and wife only in name. 
 He is always thoughtful and kind to me, and one of the best of fa- 
 thers. The children he loves more intensely, I believe from having 
 missed the other love from his life.' 
 
 " You can imagine, Kate, with what feelings I heard this story. I 
 wondered if this selfish nature, that was so willing to accept the 
 strangely unselfish sacrifice from the man whose name she bore, could 
 ever rise to the height of being noble and generous in turn, did she 
 know the true condition of affairs. I doubt it. But, perhaps, I do 
 her injustice. 
 
 " I persuaded her to retire to her room, and I rejoined Father 
 Antonio in his watching. 
 
 " Silently we sat together through the mysterious hours of dying night 
 and coming dawn. It was evident that Jennie could not survive the 
 day. Maude might possibly get well, but we dared not hope too much. 
 With the first flush of daylight Rose came in at the gateway, seeming 
 the spirit of the dawn, in her gown of palest pink. Her eyes were 
 heavy, and she looked pale and anxious. As she came to the side 
 of little Jennie, the child opened her eyes, and whispered in a half- 
 dream like way : 
 
33 
 
 " ' My papa, I want my dear papa ! ' 
 
 " Father Antonio put his hand on her head and assured her that 
 her papa was coming to her soon. At this moment the mother came 
 into the room. In an instant she perceived the fatal change in the 
 little girl, and sinking into a chair by the side of the bed broke into 
 a passion of sobs. Father Antonio urged self-control for the sake of 
 the child. Rose stood by the little one with a goblet of water, 
 moistening the parched mouth occasionally as she struggled with 
 the parting breath. Raising her dim eyes to Rose she whispered $ 
 Take me up, Miss Rose.' The request was instantly obeyed, and 
 the dying child was held carefully in the loving arms, while the little 
 head was pillowed on the tender, womanly breast of Rose. I stood 
 beside the stricken mother, who buried her face in my garments in 
 an agony of weeping. 
 
 " ' Papa/ came faintly from the lips around which the grey shadows 
 were creeping. 
 
 " At this moment down the silent street came the rapid whirl of 
 wheels and a dust-covered buggy drawn by two foaming, quivering 
 horses stopped at the gate. Howard's partner, Mr. James, had 
 met the stage twenty miles from Santa Barbara with the swiftest 
 horses he could secure, and in this way brought the father to his 
 dying child. 
 
 "Howard, pale and haggard, sprang from the vehicle and came t 
 the door. Father Antonio met him with a silent hand-clasp. Not a 
 word was spoken as the father sank on his knees by the bedside. 
 
 " * Oh, my baby ! ' he sobbnd. The sobs of a man ! Surely 
 the most agonizing sound that can be voiced. 
 
 ^ ! 'came from the little one, a^d there was a glad quiver in 
 
34 
 
 the weak voice, and a faint light in the rapidly glazing eyes. Rose's 
 face was like that of a marble statue, as she held the little form ten- 
 derly, while her beautiful eyes held a passion of agony in their depths. 
 
 "Slowly and yet more slowly came the breath of the little girl, 
 the intervals between the faint sighs becoming longer. Lower and 
 lower drooped the lids over the pretty blue eyes. A faint flutter of 
 the breath as a newly awakened bird, and I whispered : 
 
 "'She is gone !' But no, the lids raised, the eyes turned first to 
 'the kneeling father, then to the mother, lastly toward heaven, and 
 opened with a glad joyous light. One little hand fell into Rose's 
 clasp, the other fluttered like a rose petal into the hand of her father. 
 The clock on the mantle chimed five. With that bright look in her 
 eyes, with the little hands as they fell, she was gone, and just the wee 
 shell of mortality that once enfolded her, was left to us. 
 
 " For some moments the silence was broken only by the sobs of 
 the mother, whose face was buried in my arms. Then, Father 
 Antonio reverently and tenderly lifted the lifeless form from Rose's 
 arms, and placed it on the couch, then, taking Rose's hand, led her 
 quietly away, while I drew the weeping mother into an adjoining 
 room. The father, after passionately kissing the little still face, 
 passed to the bedside of the other child, who was lying in a half-con- 
 scious condition at the farther side of the room, carefully attended 
 by a neighbor who had come in soon after his arrival. 
 
 "But why prolong the sorrowful details. Little Maude lived 
 until midnight, when she joined her sister. Side by side the little 
 white-robed sisters lay in their coffin, as though they had lain down 
 in their bed at night. I was with the father and mother until the 
 last. 
 
35 
 
 " And now Mrs. Howard will go to her New York home for rest 
 and change. Charles Howard will remove his business to San 
 Francisco, and the double grave at the Santa Barbara cemetery will 
 remain to them as a sacred memory forevermore. Oh, Life ! some 
 of thy details are stranger than fiction ! 
 
 " I am very tired, dear, from the events of the past weeks. I am 
 resting all I can. Col. Horton has returned from a two weeks' busi- 
 ness trip to San Buena Ventura and the valley of the Santa Clara. 
 He is very kind and thoughtful of my comfort, and is constantly 
 arranging pleasant things for me. They are all so good to me here. 
 
 "I see very little of Father Antonio now, as he is much occupied. 
 Yet, somehow, at any hour I can close my eyes, and see his strong, 
 refined face, and the vision strengthens me. It is a mysterious 
 thing, this power of one soul over another. 
 
 "You will perceive I have been two or three days writing this 
 letter. What a blessing you are to me, Kate, my refuge in perplexity 
 and sorrow. Lovingly, 
 
 "Agnes." 
 
 " SEPTEMBER 3RD. 
 
 " Fate ft dealing queerly with me lately, Kate. I have been sit- 
 ting by my window to-night in the moonlight, striving to get away 
 from myself, resolving to take my life in my own hands and shape 
 it to suit my designs. In the midst of such thoughts comes these 
 words of Owen Meredith : 
 
 ' By the laws 
 
 Of a fate I can neither control nor dispute 
 I am what I am ; ' 
 
36 
 
 and then all that is caged and bound in my nature rises in rebellion. 
 I must find work, work ; that is salvation. We women live too much 
 in our hearts. We must get out of this heart life and live in the 
 head, if we would not suffer. 
 
 " * What is it now ? ' you ask. I will tell you. Yesterday Rose 
 and I, accompanied by Don Ramon and Col. Horton, went down 
 the coast a few miles on horseback. We stopped for lunch at the 
 house of an acquaintance, where we learned of the illness of a sister 
 of Dona Inez, who lived near Montecito. I was anxious to make a 
 sketch of a certain point along the coast ; so Don Ramon proposed 
 that Col. Horton should accompany me to the desired place, while 
 he and Rose visited his sister-in-law ; each party going directly home 
 when the sketch was completed and the visit made. 
 
 " Don Ramon's passion for horses is remarkable, even for a Span- 
 iard, and we were riding two of his finest specimens. Mine had 
 been devoted to my use from my first arrival in the family. He is a 
 perfect model of horseflesh, of a dark cream color pelamino, the 
 Spanish call it with black mane and tail, and a black line along the 
 back from mane to tail. He has learned to know me, and I am 
 very much attached to him. The canter to the beach was exhilarat- 
 ing, and we were in the best of spirits when we arrived at the de- 
 sired spot. Taking my sketching materials from their pocket at the 
 side of my saddle, my companion fastened our horses to a tree, and 
 we went down to the beach. He arranged my seat on a rock, and I 
 was soon very busy. Taking a little volume of Owen Meredith's 
 Lucile ' from his pocket he said : 
 
 " ' May I read to you, Mrs. Lee, while you work ? ' to which I 
 replied : 
 
37 
 
 " ' I shall be really glad to have you, Col. Horton. " Lucile " is 
 always a favorite with me.' 
 
 " So as I worked he read, at first continuously, then an extract 
 here and there as he' turned the leaves. It was familiar to both of 
 us, therefore each fragment was understood. Gradually the reading 
 became more desultory and fragmentary, interspersed between peri- 
 ods of silent looking out across the great waters. Then he read in a 
 low voice this passage, descriptive of Lucile : 
 
 " ' Had her life been but blended 
 
 With some man's whose heart had her own comprehended, 
 All its wealth at his feet would have lavishly thrown. 
 For him she had then been ambitious alone ; 
 For him had aspired ; in him had transfused 
 All the gladness and grace of her nature ; and used 
 For him only the spells of its delicate power.' 
 
 " Something in the tone of voice, more in the manner of the 
 reader, sent a sharp thrill through my heart, and made me wish I had 
 not come to this lonely, dream-like place in this .way. 
 
 " After a moment's silence he said : 
 
 " Men and women often accomplish great works, stung by the 
 agony of being mis-mated ; but the best and truest work of man or 
 woman must be from the grander stimulus of being rightly mated; 
 Agnes Lee, your work is from the former impulse. Would to God I 
 could lift you out of this life to another world where you could be 
 impelled only by the latter motive. Through all these years in which 
 I have known you, and of you, I believe I have read your nature 
 perfectly, all its needs, and all the purity and nobility of its im- 
 pulses ; there has been an infinity of pleasure a great danger also 
 
to me in the perusal. I have read the cold, unresponsive nature 
 that would sacrifice all the grace and sweetness of your womanhood 
 to utilitarian and mercenary uses, and the knowledge has stung me 
 to agony. To me you are a queen amongst women. I could snatch 
 you from this existence, though my own life were the sacrifice. I 
 could say as the Duke de Luvois did to Lucile : 
 
 " ' Tis a soul that appeals 
 
 To a soul, 'tis a heart that cries out for a heart, 
 'Tis the man you yourself have created in part, 
 That implores you to sanction^ and save the new life 
 Which he lays at your feet with this prayer.' 
 
 " He had put his hand over mine as it lay on t he rock, and I had 
 not the power to change the position. I was dizzy and faint. A 
 wild, passionate response was ringing through my own heart, not to 
 this man, but to his sentiments, his cry. I felt the sands slipping, 
 slipping from beneath me. I became afraid of myself. All the pa- 
 gan in my nature rose up defiant and rebellious, demanding recog- 
 nition, demanding satisfaction of this fate that had made me as I am, 
 and denied the fulfillment of all the soul's possibilities ; that, when I 
 begged for bread, had given me a stone. 
 
 " Then a door stood wide open in my heart, and I realized this 
 truth, that had this man before me been what no man will ever be to 
 me here, a realization of that grand ideal that awaits me in some life 
 beyond this, I should have been swept away by his call> as the 
 branch of sea-weed was carried out by the rising tide. Then also 
 came the further knowledge, that, though I may never encounter this 
 ideal, yet 1 shall never bow to a lesser god. My womanhood can never 
 trail her white garments through the mire of sensuality in any form, 
 
39 
 
 or kneel at a less worthy shrine than that of divinest love. Welcome 
 death welcome starvation rather than feed upon the husks. 
 
 " Then I was strong again, my armor intact ; strong to save my- 
 self and him. I arose and stood before him, saying : 
 
 " ' My friend, I appreciate your esteem, your respect, more than I 
 can tell you. Nothing can ever change my life's pathway. That is 
 best which comes to each of us, how hard soever it may seem. 
 Let us each live for the duty we owe to life. Weak and com- 
 monplace people may stumble and fall, and arise with the mire of the 
 street upon their garments ; but, my friend, you and I are not weak 
 and commonplace. Let us go home now.' 
 
 " He held my hand a moment, reverently and tenderly ; then, with 
 a deep pathos in his voice, said, only : 
 
 " * God bless you, noblest of women ! You are always true and 
 right. We will go home.' 
 
 " As I entered, alone, the gate of home, again I met Father An- 
 tonio, walking among the roses. A passionate desire to touch the 
 hem of his garment, imploring his strength, came over me, and I al- 
 most sank to the ground. My nerves had been taxed almost beyond 
 their strength. His kindly greeting seemed like the blast of a trum- 
 pet calling to battle. I, unconsciously, reached my hand to him, 
 and said : 
 
 " ' Father Antonio, when a heart cries to you from out of its depths, 
 " Pray for me \ " do you know and understand ? ' 
 
 " He took my proffered hand just a moment, his dark eyes were 
 grave and compassionate, as he replied, slowly, 
 
 u ' I know ; I understand.' 
 
 " That was all, Kate, but Heaven's gates seemed open, and the 
 
40 
 
 soft breezes of Paradise calmed my troubled soul. All day those 
 words echo softly in my heart, like the sound of music : 
 " * I know ; I understand? 
 
 "Your AGNES." 
 
PART IV. 
 
 Could I but know that in some far sweet morning 
 
 We should stand side by side, 
 And in that hour find all Life's questions answered, 
 
 I would be satisfied. 
 
 " SANTA BARBARA, Sept. 3oth. 
 
 Y prayer for work has been answered, Kate> 
 most fully. And now I may tell you of the 
 long struggle through which I have been 
 passing, the knowledge of which I have 
 kept from you until I knew whether it would 
 end in victory or defeat for me. 
 
 "When I came to Santa Barbara the 
 conviction was strong within me, that hence- 
 forth I must fight alone the battle of life for myself and the dear 
 children. Not very long after my arrival here, a letter from their 
 father confirmed this impression. He had made arrangements to 
 remain permanently in China, and well, Kate, there is no use call- 
 ing up any ghosts by going into sad details. The bare facts are 
 these : I have my precious babies for which privilege I thank 
 God every hour my worldly possessions are not burdensome, but I 
 am strong and brave in spirit to work for my children ; and I have 
 some talents that can be utilized in the line of teaching. 
 
 " All the facts I put before my kind friends, Dona Inez and her 
 noble hearted husband. Their home was offered me for mine with 
 an earnestness and warmth that admitted no refusal. They 
 insisted that if I would teach, my coming here was a dispensation of 
 
42 
 
 Providence in their behalf. 'Were there not all the muchachitos and 
 muchachitas suffering for lack of instruction? Did they not need lessons 
 in English, and music and painting,and was there a more competent per- 
 son in all the Californiasthat nuestrahermana querida Agnes?' exclaim- 
 ed the dear, kind Dona, folding me in a genuine Spanish embrace. I 
 could not doubt the sincerity of their expressions. In conclusion 
 they positively forbade me to think of any other place than their 
 casa as the home of myself and children. So t^at part was settled 
 greatly to my satisfaction. A commodious school-room was fitted up 
 in their house, and devoted to my use. Gradually numerous nieces 
 and nephews and cousins, and other juvenile relatives of these kind 
 friends were added to my classes, the privilege of my instruction 
 always being solicited as a favor, until I became the centre of the 
 busiest little hive of workers in all Santa Barbara, The remuner- 
 ation which I have been compelled to take for this is really beyond 
 my most sanguine expectations. They all insist that I must not 
 think of leaving Santa Barbara, must establish a permanent institu- 
 tion here, and much more that is very pleasant for me to hear. So, 
 with the aid of Don Ramon, arrangements were completed by 
 which I have for a school-room a pretty little building owned by 
 him, situated a short distance from the residence ; and yesterday my 
 school was opened for pupils with due formality. I have promised 
 to continue the school for a year at least, and probably longer. 
 And, Kate, I began to feel to-day for the first time that I am stand- 
 ing upon a solid foundation of my own. I feel an infinite capacity 
 for work in my nature. It is a very interesting work to me, as 
 Spanish children are always well trained, obedient and loving. 
 
 " To-day, for the first time, I feel like telling you my true position 
 
43 
 
 which may possibly make clear to you some things in my former 
 letters that may have been somewhat obscure. 
 
 " Mrs. Howard sailed last week for New York, while Howard 
 remained in San Francisco. I think it is tacitly understood between 
 them that it is a final separation. The day before they went away, I 
 was at their house nearly all day, aiding her in the last preparations 
 for departure. It was a very sad day to both of them. Every spot 
 was sacred with mementoes of the little girls. A scrap of faded 
 ribbon that had once tied Jennie's hair, a broken doll that was 
 Maud's favorite, a little worn shoe in a closet, the dainty dresses in 
 which the mother was wont to array them with so much pride, and 
 which were now folded away with bitter tears ; all these things vvere 
 like daggers to the hearts of both parents. 
 
 " As I walked home in the evening, Howard went with me to my 
 own gate. Just before separating, he said to me : 
 
 " ' Mrs. Lee, Jennie has told me that she opened her heart to you 
 freely. It will not be necessary for me to say anything more to you ; 
 I think she feels there is no longer the shadow of a reason for our 
 remaining together. I believe she desires to go away for a final 
 separation. Believe me, I shall be just and honorable with her. I 
 could not do otherwise, not even to hasten the hour that will bring 
 me, a free man, to the sweet woman, who through sorrow, and suf- 
 fering, and death, must be forever the queen of my life. Strange as 
 it may seem to you to hear me say it, my feeling for her is the one 
 love of my strong manhood, the sweet fountain whose pure waters 
 have been to my soul as the baptism of God. I want you to under- 
 stand me, that I am a better man in every way for this feeling. It 
 has changed and purified my nature, and, despite all the conditions, 
 
44 
 
 I thank Heaven for having known it. I ask you to be a sister to 
 her, Mrs. Lee. You will be her constant companion. I know you 
 love her, and will cherish her happiness. Some day, I shall come to 
 her, and when I do, you will approve of my coming.' 
 
 "With that he wrung my hand in farewell. 
 
 " What a strange web of the irregular and the unconventional has 
 been woven around this place in the incidents of the past few weeks ! 
 The events of sober, real life are often more incredible than the 
 creations of fiction. 
 
 " Rose is paler and more quiet in her manner than before this 
 spiritual cyclone, but otherwise she is her old sweet self. We never 
 speak upon the one subject, but a mutual pressure of our clasped 
 hands, or the interchange of eloquent glances at times, reveal to each 
 the sympathy and understanding of the other. I am sure no one be- 
 side ourselves suspects the condition of affairs. 
 
 " Col. Horton went to Los Angeles two or three days after my last 
 letter to you. He has interests there that may keep him permanently. 
 He was very kind, very chivalrous and very respectful in his manner 
 to me all the time. 
 
 " Father Antonio I meet frequently, as he is an inmate of our 
 household. He refers occasionally to his return to Spain, which 
 elicits most earnest protestation from every member of our family. 
 He is a constant study to me, Kate ; he seems so different from any 
 other man I ever knew. I wonder if he suspects the peculiar influ- 
 ence he has upon me, which is a most singular psychological phe- 
 nomenon, and one entirely new to me. A subtle something shall 
 I call it soul-emanation ? seems to surround me from his spirit, 
 until there are hours and days in which I live and move and have 
 
45 
 
 my being only in this atmosphere. It is as though I were walking 
 in the clearer ether of great mountain heights. I arn uplifted and 
 exalted until I feel that fire and torture and martyrdom could not 
 disturb my serenity. I seem to have known him since the first dawn 
 of creation, more intimately than I have ever known any other em- 
 bodied spirit. It never appears necessary that I should speak my 
 thoughts to him : I fancy he reads my soul as an open scroll. There 
 is not an hour of the day in which I do not feel his presence, the 
 benediction of his hand, the inspiration of his glance. And yet, dear, 
 only the words of formal courtesy are ever exchanged between us. 
 He has been a help, a power to me in these desolate hours I have 
 known lately, greater, perhaps, than he can ever know. I imagine 
 mine are the feelings which weak mortals feel toward the saints in 
 heaven. But it is all new to your AGNES." 
 
 After this the letters for many weeks were filled with descriptions, 
 of her daily routine, incidents in the lives of her idolized children, 
 and little pen sketches of her surroundings. At last I come to this 
 one : 
 
 JANUARY I2TH. 
 
 " Kate, can you imagine yourself closing your eyes upon a certain 
 scene, and opening them to find every particular of that scene com- 
 pletely changed ? Can you picture one walking along a monotonous 
 little pathway which promises to continue indefinitely, and suddenly 
 finding the road stopped abruptly by a great fathomless abyss 
 which reveals only mysterious obscurity ? So has Life revealed itself 
 to me, suddenly, as a lightning-stroke. I wonder if I can give you 
 any clear idea of my meaning, by sober details? Let me try: 
 
4 6 
 
 " During my vacation, which commenced about the middle of 
 December, Don Ramon invited me with Rose, Father Antonio and 
 some other members of his family to accompany him to his extensive 
 ranch, which lies about forty miles from Santa Barbara, almost en- 
 tirely in the mountains. He goes there frequently upon matters of 
 business, and he was anxious to make this trip a pleasant affair in 
 honor of his brother who will soon return to Spain. 
 
 " They arranged the trip, for my sake, in the vacation, as Dona 
 Inez insisted that I needed the recreation. Heavy rains had fallen 
 in the mountains, and it was not without some misgivings that we 
 undertook the journey. But we arrived without any unpleasant in- 
 cident, and were soon comfortably domiciled for a week's stay in 
 the quaint old adobe farm-house, which was in charge of a Mexican 
 family. The gentlemen spent many hours each day in the saddle, 
 and sometimes Rose and I were their companions. But my delight 
 was the wonderful mountain scenery on every hand. One especial 
 rocky gorge I was fond of visiting frequently for sketching purposes. 
 It was peculiarly located, being but a narrow box-like ravine in one 
 portion, through which a little stream trickled, and upon each side 
 of which the mountains rose up almost perpendicularly. In order to 
 reach the point from which I desired to sketch, a mile or so from 
 the house, it was necessary to pass through this narrow gorge by the 
 merest thread of a pathway which lay along the edge of the stream. 
 Rose and I had been to the spot many times, and I was quite famil- 
 iar with the way. 
 
 " One afternoon, just before we were to take our departure from the 
 ranch, I was quite desirous of visiting the place to complete my last 
 
47 
 
 sketch of an interesting waterfall. Rose was feeling quite unwell, so 
 I took my sketch-book and went alone without the least hesitation. 
 The work required more time than I at first anticipated, and just as 
 I was closing my book I was surprised by falling rain-drops. Glanc- 
 ing up I became seriously alarmed at the appearance of the sky. 
 The whole northern heavens seemed a black vault that threatened to 
 engulf the earth. It was singularly grand and majestic, but I was 
 too much frightened to admire it. Hastening my steps through the 
 falling rain, I had but reached the narrow gorge when darkness 
 seemed to close me in as the walls of a prison. Reverberations of 
 thunder and flashes of lightning added to the terror of the scene. 
 Despite my fear I remembered the description in 'Lucile,' begin- 
 ning : 
 
 ' And the storm was abroad in the mountains.' 
 
 " I entered the gorge picking my way as carefully as I could, 
 when a low moan far up the mountain attracted my attention. So 
 faintly it came at first, that I scarcely noticed it, but gradually it grew 
 deeper and more distinct until I paused to listen. I was standing 
 midway in the gorge, at the time. The little stream was swollen con- 
 siderably and ran over my feet. The mysterious roar became almost 
 deafening. I knew not what to do. At this instant a bright flash of 
 lightning revealed just before me the form of Father Antonio hasten, 
 ing towards me. Without an instant of waiting 1 or word of warning 
 he caught me in his arms and sprang like an athlete through a provi- 
 dential opening in the wall of the ravine, which led to a sheltered 
 place about thirty feet above the stream. It was not an instant too 
 soon. We had barely reached the place of safety, when I caught the 
 
48 
 
 gleam of a white, electric wall of water and in a moment our placid, 
 little stream was a boiling cauldron, twenty feet in depth. There 
 had been a cloud-burst in the mountains, and this was the result. 
 This man had simply saved me from a most horrible death. I grew 
 dizzy with a realization of the situation, and for a moment all con- 
 sciousness forsook me. In that moment, dear, the old / died forever. 
 When complete consciousness came back to me the whole universe 
 was changed, with the rapidity and fierceness of the lightning darts 
 that played around the rock upon which we stood. I was aroused 
 by hearing my name, * Agnes? That was all ; but the word seemed 
 a signal that rolled away a great curtain from my soul, and I saw 
 that revealed which I thought could never be shown to me until 
 Time should be no more. I knew, with a knowledge as fixed as 
 Eternity, that the deepest love of which my nature was capable, was 
 given to this man, that is Antonio Carillo was realized the grandest 
 ideal possible to my soul's conception ; knew also that, even were it 
 possible that he could ever give me a thought beyond what was given 
 to any friend, there lay between us a gulf as broad as God's universe, 
 as impassable as the walls of fate. With one second of time this 
 knowledge came to me. And yet the moment in which I lay in 
 helpless consciousness in his arms was to me an infinity of joy the 
 life of centuries condensed into a single instant the epitome of 
 eternity.' 
 
 " By the glare of the lightning I could see distinctly every outline 
 of his face, the contour of his head, as the storm played around us. 
 He held me firmly and closely, for the place of our shelter was small 
 and by no means sure. He spoke no word to me, but gazed into 
 
49 
 
 the face of the tempest with an air of reverent admiration, as though 
 in it he recognized and adored the Omnipotent. 
 
 " For one wild moment I closed my eyes and prayed for instant 
 death. I begged the storm to absorb my being, the lightning to 
 extinguish with one kind stroke the pitiful torch of life. Only for a 
 moment. Then, like a great, calm river, there came to me from this 
 man a peace, deep and abiding. I was lifted above the spiritual 
 storm and placed upon heights which seething waves of earthly unrest 
 can never reach. I believe for a time my spirit was free from the 
 body, and stood revealed to his as it will be when earthly things are 
 put aside forever. Like the faint sound of distant music came the 
 memory of his words upon another occasion long ago ' / know ; / 
 understand? In that moment I bowed my head to a Hand that 
 consecrated me, for this life, to a work in which I must never feel the 
 sense of sacrifice ; in which I must feel that the complete satisfaction 
 of the reward that will come to me in the life beyond will be 
 sufficient for any loss that could be possible on earth. 
 
 " Then the storm died away as rapidly as it had come. The great 
 black clouds rolled slowly back and the full moon was revealed, 
 shining as placidly as though material or spiritual tempests were 
 unknown. Then he arose, his arm still supporting my trembling 
 form, and thus we made our way through the gorge and across its 
 stream which had returned almost to its usual insignificance. 
 
 "At the doorway of the house he clasped my hand firmly and 
 kindly for a brief instant, then saying only, ' May God bless you, 
 he turned away and went out into the night, alone. 
 
 "Through the long night I did not close my eyes, I lived an 
 
50 
 
 eternity. In the morning he had returned to Santa Barbara, whither 
 we all went the same day. 
 
 "This morning he sailed for San Francisco on his way to Spain. 
 With a brief word of farewell to me he placed in my hand a little 
 cluster of violets all wet with rain-drops. I pinned them on my 
 breast, where they are resting now. I have sat here by my window 
 all day bravely struggling with a part of my nature that I must hence- 
 forth hold in check with the firm hand of a master. All day I have 
 realized only this, that I shall never see him again in this life. The 
 clasping of his kindly hand must be to me but a memory henceforth. 
 Even should I meet him it must be with the quiet exterior of a pass- 
 ing acquaintance. And yet, oh, Kate ! Kate ! with my soul strung 
 to an agony of consciousness, I know that at one word from him, 
 at one glance of his eyes, the floodgates would be swept away 
 and I could no more stay the passionate surges of this feeling that 
 possesses me, than I could check the seething torrent of Vesuvius. 
 Did I hear his voice calling me, did I feel the magnetic attraction of 
 his presence desiring me, I should go to him, though from Heaven to 
 Hell. I could not stand alone against the invitation of his hand. I 
 am not ashamed to tell you this, Kate. There is nothing in my 
 heart that I would not lay before the Mother of God. This feeling 
 is so exalted, so ennobling, that it places me beyond the reach of 
 earthly temptation. I can never walk alone, though I tread the 
 wilderness of sorrow ; for, though I shall never see him in earth-life, 
 yet, strange incongruity, I can never lose his presence from my side. 
 He kneels beside me at every altar; he stands by my side on the 
 lonely sea shore, when the voice of God speaks from His ocean ; his 
 spirit-hand responds to the yearning pressure of my own in every 
 
5 1 
 
 scene that thrills my soul with joy or sorrow ; his eloquent glance will 
 go with me through eternity. 
 
 " Every pure, noble desire of my nature responds to this man, as 
 a harp to the hand of a master. Every act of his the strong, quiet 
 grace of his movements the dignity of his language the almost 
 haughtiness of his bearing are to me the perfection of harmony, the 
 music of existence. Until this revelation came to me, I could not 
 have conceived the possibility of one human being fulfilling so com- 
 pletely the highest ideal of another, as he does to me. 
 
 " All these things stand out in my soul with a distinctness that is tor- 
 ture, as I sit here amid the roses of Santa Barbara, and feel that 
 every pulsation of Time bears him farther from me away from me 
 forever. And I ask of Fate, Why has this experience come to me ? 
 Why have I been called to antedate Eternity, and stand hand- 
 clasped with that which should have come to me in the Life beyond 
 this? To-morrow I must take up the burden of life again ! Oh, my 
 beloved, pray for me ! AGNES." 
 
 After this, in all the letters that came from her, this one subject 
 was never mentioned. Her life was very full of work. The months 
 glided by, until a year had passed since the date of this last letter. 
 Then came a long one, telling of Howard's coming back. A quiet 
 divorce had been granted, and both parties to this singular union 
 were free. Jennie had been reunited to her old lover, Victor Ellerton, 
 soon after the divorce. And now this long letter from Agnes de- 
 scribed the marriage of Rose and Howard, and their departure for 
 their new home in San Francisco. During the year, the graves of 
 the two little girls had been tenderly cared for by Rose ; and before 
 
5 2 
 
 the final departure for their new home, she had knelt with the father 
 by the cherished mounds. 
 
 The years wore on, and Paul and Mary needed greater educational 
 advantages than could be obtained in Santa Barbara. The death of 
 a relative left Agnes in a much better financial condition than before.. 
 She was able to fulfill her dream of a trip to Italy with her children, 
 where she remained some years, until they were little ones no longer, 
 but a manly lad and winsome lass, who were as devoted to their ' pre- 
 cious mamma,' as the most loving heart could desire. Then they 
 returned to San Francisco, where she found her beloved Rose grown 
 a sweet, matronly woman, wearing most gracefully her crown of 
 maternity ; and Howard very happy, with his handsome boys and 
 girls, while his love for his wife had but gained strength and tender- 
 ness with the flight of the happy years of their married life. 
 
 Then came rumors of the terrible ravages of cholera in Spain, and 
 long accounts of the noble conduct of one whose name was a house- 
 hold word to the sorrowing and afflicted, not alone in his native city, 
 but beyond its walls Antonio Carilio. At last came a day when 
 this grand soldier in the noble army of God put off his armor, and 
 responded to the summons of the Master whom he had served so 
 gloriously. 
 
 After this the hold of life seemed weakened with her ; and one 
 sweet June day she folded her patient hands across her pure heart 
 in the eternal rest, and her sorrowing children laid her tenderly by 
 the side of the little baby that died so many years before. Their 
 father never returned to them, nor communicated with them. Before 
 her death she asked Mary to send me a package of papers, among 
 
53 
 
 which I found this poem, bearing date some years after the eventful 
 parting at Santa Barbara : 
 
 UN SUENO DE LA NOG HE. 
 
 You decked my breast with violets last night, 
 Their haunting sweetness thrills my pulses yet ; 
 
 You clasped my eager hands with warm caress, 
 And kissed the sadness from my eyelids wet. 
 
 My soul is sad at memory of your touch, 
 
 Your flowers' rich fragrance thrills my heart with pain ; 
 
 The look of pitying kindness in your eyes 
 May never come to gladden me again. 
 
 For, all the sweetness of that haunting scene 
 Your thrilling touch your violets' purple gleam 
 
 The glance of kindness from your speaking eyes 
 Were but the offspring of a strange, sweet dream. 
 
 I wake to know your hand can ne'er clasp mine 
 This side of life this side of Hope and Heaven, 
 
 To know that not one kindly glance of yours 
 Must ever to my longing eyes be given. 
 
 I wake to take my burden up again, 
 
 Forget for one sweet hour of dreaming night, 
 
 My weary burden of the heart and brain 
 And do my duty with my woman's might. 
 
 I would not look upon your face again 
 
 Your strong, grand face that is a god's tc me- 
 
 I would not hear the music of your voice, 
 I would not think of you, or hear or see 
 
54 
 
 One spoken, written word that could recall 
 Your memory. For only thus to me 
 
 Can come a strength to do my daily work 
 For which my spirit must be brave and free. 
 
 You came into my life for one brief hour, 
 Strong, noble, grand as any god could be ; 
 
 And all the currents of my being's tide 
 
 And life itself, henceforth were changed to me. 
 
 Yoa came and passed. Now never more to me 
 Can come the clasping of your firm, true hand, 
 
 Must shine the glory of your eloquent eyes, 
 No more to me, this side the Heavenly Land. 
 
 I pray for strength. I would be firm and brave 
 
 To put your very memory away ; 
 I pray for strength, and it is granted me 
 
 To meet the burdens of the toilful day. 
 
 Hut in the dreaming mystery of Night 
 
 Such visions come sometimes of bliss and pain. 
 
 That with the dawning of another day 
 
 The hard-won battle must be fought again. 
 
 And yet until the soul shall pass the bridge 
 That spans the mystic gulf from shore to shore, 
 
 There must remain between my soui and yours 
 The eloquence of silence evermore.