The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1869-03-02
THE BELLEOF SANTIAGO;
Or,
s A Y E D BY FL r E

As she slowly descended the steps OF
the church, the two men watched hel
with eager eyes, for the young girl was
beautiful, with the eloquent loveliness
of her nation. Under the mantilla
which could not hide the outlines of the
spirited little head, burdened with luxu-
RANT plaits of darkest hair, fastened by
golden pins, shone Southern eyes, brill
iant as stars, smiled lips as rosy as the
pomegranite flower behind her dainty
ear, and smoothl grounded cheeks glow
ed with soft bloom that warmed her
pale olive skin. A rosary hung from
the dimpled hand that gathered the man.
tilla across her bosom, and as she step
ped lightly dowH,- there were glimpses
of a charming foot in coquettish slip
per of black satin, which only Span
ish woman could have worn. A most
enchanting little creature, rich in youth,
beanty, innocence and grace. 1t was no
wonder that both priest and lover watch
ed her with such lingering glanccs, for
Dolores was the belle of Santiago.
Like spirits of light and darkness the
two men seemed for Philippe Arguel-
les stood in the blaze of the morning
sun, a gallant figure, full of vigor, come
illness, and the indescribable charm of
high birth and gentle breeding Ugarte,
the young priest, leaned in the deep
shadow of the doorway, with slender
brown hands locked tightly together,
dark eyes full of fire, and every line of
his worn face betraying a love as pass
ionate as its despair. He had flung his
missal at his feet, brushed the cap from
his crisp black curls s,and as he stood there,
his tall, strong frame moved impatiently
under his priestly robes, as if he longed
to cast them off and be himself Face,
figure and gesture told the story of a
proud, impetuous nature retelling
against a mistaken vocation with des-
perate despair, which could not yield up
the sweet hopes ofyouth without sharp
struggle and bitter self-scorn.
"See where she goes to meet him, for
getting me entirely he muttered, as
the girls slight figure vanished, with a
backward glance which Philippe SEEM
ed to understand and obey, springing
after her with lover-like alacrity. "Al-
ma mia, will you never give me a look
like dog, for one touch of her little
hand, one smile of her lovely face. Do
lores, Dolores, through thee 1 shall be
lost" and clasping his hands over his
eyes, the young priest hurried into the
vast, dim cathedral like one fleeing from
temptation.
While poor Ugarte, prone on the stone
floor of his cell, struggled vainly to
conquer the human craving for love,
happy Philippe was listening to the
sweetest words woman's lips can utter
or mans ear receive. In the sunny
garden of her father, Dolores walked
with her lover, telling him that her
heart was his, but that she feared her
hand never could be, since he was not
of her faith.
"My mother-thc saints pardon her
-renounced her religion and died a
Protestant My father never forgave
her, and more than once has vowed that
should expiate her sin by giving my
life to God" sighed the girl when the
| first rapture was over.
''But, carina, he will never keep his
word he cannot have the heart to i'm
mure such youth and beauty in con-
vent / swear he shall not! You are
mine now, and you shall wed me, not
heaven" cried Philippe, with the cour-
age of a successful lover.
"'Ah, YOU do not know him. That
cross has embittered all his life. He
hates those of your faith, and one word
of our love will separate us forever
Alas why did l listen? Why did / let
you follow me till l cannot live without
you? Oh, my heart, there is no happi-
ness for us, unless you return to the
true Church"
''Never, Dolores. Not even for your
sake will l perjure my soul. Is there
no one who possesses power to soften
your fathers heart? Surely he is hui
man. He has loved, and will not thwart
our passion for whim"
"Father Ugarte, our confessor, is the
OILY one who can persuade him, and,
thanks to the good priest, have escap-
ed my doom so long, for whenever my
father speaks of joining the sisterhood
of Mary l fly to Ugarte. He treasures
and consoles me, counsels my father tc
wait yet little longer, till 1 am more
fit to take the vows, and thus / ain spared
to enjoy this lovely world, and give my
heart to YOU
Sweet soul, you shall do both as long
as l have life to cherish and defend you
See, then, my Dolores, confide in Ugarte
Ask his help, and beseech him to ap
pease your father He has eloquenct
and the courage of lion; his power i:
great; plead to him, and he cannot re
fuse an angel"
Dolores drooped her eyes, half smiled
then knit her slender brows, and played
absently with the rose that she hat
hung on her lovers breast. He stoopeC
and looked into her downcast face, try
} ING to read the varying expressions tina
passed over it, for it was by turns shy
petulant, and sad.
'Now she has little secret to confid'
to me-a charming little secret. Come
make me thy confessor, ,amado (darling)
| he whispered, drawing her nearer, will
. most unconfessor- like tenderness for tn,
fair penitent.
"Nay; it is no secret, only foolisl
fancy; impious, perhaps, but it viii
come, and / must tell thee, because it il
so pleasant to confess to Father Phillip
pc" replied the girl, with captivating
} air of confidence, as she drew her man
tilla over both heads, and, under tina
light screen, whispered, laughingly -
"Ugarte is less kind to me of late. Hi
watches me as come and go, questions
me closely, gives me many penances fo
offenses which he used to pardon with ;
smile, and sometimes--now, wicked one
thou wilt say am vain coquette, but
in truth, ! cannot help 1.-THE looks a
me with those magnificent melancholy
eyes of his as if his severity was but ;
vail to hide more kindness than he dareC