Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1910-12-17
THE STATEMENT
OF THE ACCUSED
A New Years Tragedy In the
Sierra Madre Foothills.


the sheep ON the foothills were scam
pering gayly away from the pathway
OF the herder and his broncho.
noticed that Jim was not as eager
MS once he had been to enter the cool
and cavernous depths OF the winding
gorge. He had for some time been
silent and, as 1t seemed to me, en-
barrassed, ever since, indeed, had
welcomed him at the Mission San Ga
briel, and now, l thought, he was al
most unwilling to enter the familiar
place, endeared as 1t was to both or
us by crowding memories OF over
whalming JOY and perfect happiness.
was always quick to comprehend, for
Concha Ramirez has In her veins Cas-
lillian blood, and Jim's thoughts,
through my long association with him
and my constant study Of his MOODS
were almost as soon communicated TO
my brain as given birth by his. And
so, had 1 been less occupied with my
delight at once more seeing him
loved, / might have been spared much
of the pain that was to come.
He was the same darling Jim as of
old. His years absence in the Ice
bound east had served to pale his cheek
a little, but in all else, except the ex-
change of the ranchero's coarse cloth
ing for the attire OF the gentleman.
he was Jim, my Jim, who would love
me always and whom In return loved
as they say only Spanish women can
All, how often l have striven to pic
ture while 1 prayed the plying face
of .Jesul But 1t was always Jim's-
always. If dreamed 1t was Jim who
occupied my fancy, and in the morn
ing when gave thanks to the blessed
Virgin for preserving me throughout
the night was grateful not that life
was still vouchsafed to me, but that
for yet another day I might love him
who was my life.
But at last as month followed month
and heard no word from him began
to fear, and when a woman fears she
doubts. 1t was full year before
letter came, and when Padre Antonio
read the sentence which told me he
was In Los Angeles and would come
to the mission the following day ! put
aside my evil thoughts and was over
come with delight. And now he was
by my side! Together we were tread
ing the familiar places. Together we
were about to call up the happy past
and make 1t real once more.
We seated ourselves upon the moss
grown ledge where soIoften we had
spoken words of love, and again | felt
his arms around me. again his lips
pressed mine. Yet 1t was not the same
this kiss. There was no sweet vio-
ha
east had numbed his heart as It had
nunibed his body. thought to warm
him with the fervor Of my love ana SO
drew closer. Nombre de dos! What
was this? He shrank away! kissed
him once again. He repulsed me! But
1 contained myself. ] did not strike
him. Then he put on a serious air and
said:
"Concha, forgive me. It Is my ia
Their. He has persuaded me. II have
promised to marry an American girl.
girl OF the gringo nation. AS say
l consented"
Mark this-I did not interrupt him,
I only looked. Well. he went on:
az thought could do It. thought
| l could forget you, so promised. But
live without you"
said nothing. He embraced me
and caressed me, and / accepted bis
caresses and embraces.
1t grew dark. Above the pines
sang the dirge Of day. The brook has
tened by to enjoy the last warm smile
of the departing sun. Far up the
canyon hooking bird was rehearsins
the vesper hymn of nature.
He lay In my arms asleep, he who
had been fnithless to me. 1t Is true
he was faithless but In thought, in Inn
pulse Nevertheless he had been faith
less. 1t Is the objectionable sin.
1t was keen knife, and as l drew
it from my bosom it caught the rays
of the rising moon. Slowly, as gazed
they grew less and less bright. Passed
q cloud across the heavens? No. not
SO; the moon was brilliant overhead
1t was the steel that was dulled. The
moisture of death had covered it.
He shrieked as / plunged the blade
into his breast
"Conchar' he cried His eyes opened
and when they closed my image was
painted upon each of them-not the
gringo woman's, you see. Influenced
by an unaccouptable impulse. threw
myself upon him. / kissed his lips
his cheeks, his brow, his eyelids.
"Conchap he whispered. 1t was my
name-his last word But he was yet
alive; he breathed, though family. ]
leaned over and spoke softly In his ear.
He had ceased to breathe. Carefully
bathed his wound with the icy wa
ter of the brook, which was chatter
ing like old Mother Lugo mt fiesta;
stanched the blood with piece of my
best red petticoat. which I had put on
in honor of his coming, and made OF
the moss pillow for his head. And
then for the last time kissed him.
Just as our lips met the bells OF the
mission began to toll the funeral knell.
When I passed the church l saw the
mission squirrels on the wall. all sit
ting erect as a major domo at rodeo.
They did not know Of the other body
lying uncoffined in the canyon.
A Question.