Morris tribune. [volume] (Morris, Minn.) 1880-2000, 1881-05-12
AN EASTER SAINT.

AN EASTER SAINT.
The Tragic Romance of a California Town.
From the Argonaut
1t was Easter Sunday, and all the air held
a dreamy ,pensive influence. 1t was beau
tiful Sabbath morning in California, and l
was going to spend the morning hours in
the old mission church of Las Flores. AS
passed down the quaint street, where the
gray olive trees waved softly in the scented
air, the children with wonderful eyes
smiled at me as l went along. Glover grew
in the chinks of the old adobe walls, and
grass bordered the path that did duty as a
sidewalk. paused on the bridge across
the deep arroyo that ran through the town,
and leaning on the railing, looked at the
smooth, green hills to the south. My mus
ings we're broken by clash of bells that
set the whole air afutter. Five bells, brought
from Spain hundred years before, hung
under the mission tiles, and through all the
years between they had ruug for grief and
chimed for Joy, till sympathy and under
standing were blended with their tones
Sometimes as they clashed for some glad
festival fancied a sad spirit spoke under
the joy-sad because of the sadness of h1-
mainly with which they were so closely
bound: or, perhaps, because of the old land
turned and came out in front of the church,
whose red roof shone in the sun, with the
pigeons cooling mournfully above the bells.
l stood In the shadow of a great pillar at
the entrance, and watched the culver of
the acacia leaves, and the shadows on the
smooth stones that paved the porch Two
Spanish girls were whispering and giggling.
Leaning against the wall beside the door
lounged a man with serape drawn up to
his ears, and q broad s0mbrero slouched
over his face till only his eyes were visible.
The deep-toned chant inside became
audible and 1 entered and took a seat in
one of the high backed pews. Women in
black mantillas were kneeling on the cold
floor, absorbed in devotion. Through the
high, deep-set windows few strong sun
beams crept, but grew chilly in the dusk
beneath the lofty roof. There was a
solemn hush, and the silent kneeling.
Even the children sat silent and quiet as
the roses and lilies on the altar.
Across from me young girl knelt, as if
with no thought but of the risen Christ, to-
ward whose image above the lilies she pray
ed. She looked neither to the right nor to
the left; her face, pale and rapt, was stead
tasty turned toward the altar and the chant
ing priest; and when she looked down her
cheeks. She seemed being apart from
mortal cares and weaknesses.
After service there was a soft rustic as
the people glided silently out under the
acacias. The man in the long serape still
leaned against the door, and, as my young
tropic saint came past, he spoke to her in a
low, quick, almost fierce tone. She an
swered shortly, and, turning her back on
him, passed out into the street. He NUT
tered something, and followed her, with
his sombrero drawn low over his eyes, 1
was curious, for the girls face had strangely
interested me. l followed, Ind saw them
go down the street. across the bridge, and
up under the olive trees. A secluded by
street ran off to the south, and here the
girl pused to gather some of the
yellow acacia blossoms that bent the slish
branches with their delicate weight of
beauty. The man reached and broke the
tender things from the tree before she
seemed aware of his presence, and held
them to her with mixture of beseeching
and imperiousness in his manner that APP
parently irritated the girl, saint though I
had counted her. She refused the flowers
with gesture eloquent through displeas-
ure. He spoke, and she replied; when he
threw the blossoms on the ground, and put
his foot on the pretty yellow things, mar
ring all their fairness. A passionate con-
versation ensued, and saw the great eyes
of my devotee flash angrily as her excite
ment increased. Sudden the man grasp
ed her arm, though she strove to avoid his
hand, and saying something with his mouth
close to her ear, he turned and walked rap
idly down the small side street till the trees
hid him from view. The girl looked after
him moment, then she lifted the crushed
flowers, and, shaking off the dust regarded
them with apparent tenderness. was sur
prised, for, from her manner, had judged
the man was one she disliked. Yet still
greater was my surprise to see her press the
bruised blossoms to her breast, and then
kiss them in utter abandon. Then she
walked slowly up the street to where it was
lost in an orchard and vineyard surround
ing an abode house. Here she disappear
cd.
Early that evening again stood on the
bridge over the arroyo, watching the soft
evening lights over the western hills. Along
the bed of the stream the Spanish women
came to do their washing, A path had
been worn close to the bank, overgrown
with weeds and tall grasses, and crowned
above the brink with acacias and olive trees.
Twilight was growing deeper, and heard
voices somewhere. Soon 7 found that a
man and woman were coming down the
path below me, and as l drew near I saw
my puzzling beauty of Easter morning and
the man who had followed her. They
paused so close that could not help hear
ing them.
Then you do not believe me? I wonder
that can love you, when you look at me
with such unbelieving eyes. tell you the
girl is nothing to me. I never loved her,
never offered her attention. / do not care
if she dies tomorrow.
My father showed me letter that was
signed Ramon Aliones-a letter to this girl
"a letter that said love, only love, to her,
and told how short the time before you
would bend before her. could kill my
self and you, when I think of it. -
did not write the letter; can you not
believe me?" answered the man in voice
that st artled me, SO strained and stragled il
was. Must I repeat this again. Your
doubtsare insults, and tempt me to leave
you. But you know I can not, and you
use your power to make me suffer-cruel, as
women ALWAYS are. shall not repeat my
denial again, and think if you repeat your
ofense shall kill myself.
i will not repeat my ofense, but if I
find you are false, and did write that letter
will kill you-do you hear?-kill youIn
He laughed low, unpleasant laugh.
"No, my love. you will never kill me, SO do
not try It. I should hate you if you did.
Come we must not be missed at the
church."
There was ball on the night of Easter
Monday. 1t was held in low ceiled hall
of an old adobe that once made part of the
residence of former Spanish governor. I
was an early arrival. Invent early, the bet
terto study the people and their ways, for
both were interesting and new to me. Soon
after entered the ball-room, my Easter
saint appeared. noticed that she attract
ed all the men by her magnetic beauty, and
repealed them by her cold, naughty
manner. Her first partner was the
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