Ainslee's Magazine, February 1913 — page 136: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

126 “Stop howling!’ cried the. padre. “Stop this fright, and-tell me. Why did José confess?” “To save me from the almshouse!” wailed Tito; and the bladelike legs sprang open again, and in a fresh storm of tears he vanished up the highway whence he had come. The. padre did not follow him, but instead leaned heavily against old Rosa. “Did I have two hearts?” he asked weakly; and suddenly his head sank upon his hands, and great drops crept forth between the fingers. “Come, come!” exclaimed Rosa, half angry and half frightened. ‘Are you yourself a child? Come! Am Ia wet nurse, that | must, pet you, and ruin my apron doing it? You need rest. Go home at once, and drink some hot milk and wine, and lie down for two hours. I will come to you then, and we will straighten out the matter, I prom- ise it, and I promise I will not be cross! Come, God wants you to!” 3 “I am in your hands,” he answered, and started up the highway, going as slowly as a blind man. But not as slowly as Rosa went about her house, dressing herself in several colors, and applying finery that she had not worn in years. She put on her mother’s wedding skirt, which was still quite yellow; and above it a great shawl of Valencia lace, which had become so. For her mantilla she chose a snowy- white one from Madrid, and back of ‘t, sheltering her ear, fixed a rose of crim- son paper. When she was nearly satis- fied, she added three feathers, after the cheerful manner of the recent Princess of Wales, thrusting them into her hair through her mantilla. Then, after a last glance at her mirror, she stepped out into the sunlight, and, drawing her creamy laces close about her, went up the highway like a baby’s funeral. When she came to the door of Inés’ house, she did not knock at it, for she knew she would never pass it if she did; she pushed it open boldly and entered, closing it behind her. Inés began to bow very low, but in doing so she recognized Rosa, and straightened up in her astonishment. AINSLEE’S “My friend,” said Rosa, “you are sur- _ prised, but I have come to you with such news as you never have heard!’ “IT do not believe you!” gasped Inés. “You would not be here if you did not have some spite up your back! Get up off my chair!” “Sit yourself down on the other one,” said Rosa, “and it will bring our eyes on as good a level. As for what I have up my back, it would humble you lower than the chair if | were cruel enough to tell it suddenly.” “If you must tell me your news,” cried Inés, “tell it and quit my house!” “Now that you have obeyed me and sat down,” said Rosa, “I will. But I must do it gradually, lest you fall over onto the floor and injure yourself, Should you not fortify yourself with a little wine?” “You shall have none of my wine!” cried Inés. “What manners you have,” said Rosa, “when I have come to you in sheerest charity! If I had not the kind- est heart in Terassa, would I have been polite enough to wear all these lovely, expensive clothes, that have been in my family for two hundred years?” “Take the wine, then,” cried Inés, “and hurry, or I will put you out, and with very few of your clothes!” ‘My poor friend,” replied Rosa, sip- ping slowly, “your fate is pitiable, so I will not keep you in this terrible suspense, but tell you the worst in as few words as I can think of. Well, it is this: The padre knows you did it.” “You lel” screamed Inés: 3" Did what?” “He knows you defiled the statue, and he knows it on the best authority.” “You lie! You lie!’ screamed Inés again. ‘‘No one would have told him such a thing but you! Go home! I will have no gutter people in my house, and you are painted like an English- woman! As you run, beware the little boys, for you look like a piece of candy!” “T own it,” said Rosa. “T did not dare come otherwise, lest you paint me yourself, as you did the statue.” COMMUC OVOKO)|KK (C@