“Were you alone, Mary?” asked Mr. Hamilton.

“I was, most of the time.  As I came back, Dr. Bryant overtook me.  He spent the night at San Jose mission, with a sick Mexican, and was returning.  But where is Aunt Lizzy?” continued Mary, with an inquiring glance round the room.

“She went to mass this morning,” replied her cousin.

“Oh, yes!  It is St. ——­’s day.  I heard the bells at daybreak.”

“It is a savage, heathenish custom they have adopted here, of tearing up and down the streets from morning till night.  I wish, by Jove! they would ride over their canting Padre!  I think he would find some other mode of celebrating the festival!”

“He would lay claim to saintship on the strength of it,” replied Mary.

“You had better keep out of the street to-day, girls,” rejoined Mr. Hamilton, pushing his cup away, and rising from the table.

At this moment Aunt Lizzy entered; and after the morning salutation, turned toward the door.

“You are later than usual this morning, aunt.  Do sit down and eat your breakfast, or it will be so cold you cannot touch it,” said Mary.

“No really devout Catholic tastes food on this holy day,” she answered, motioning it from her.

“It must be quite a penance to abstain, after your long walk,” said Mr. Hamilton with a smile.

“Father Mazzolin said, this morning, that all who kept this holy day would add a bright jewel to their crown, and obtain the eternal intercession of the blessed saint;” and she left the room.

“That falsehood adds another stone to the many that will sink him in the lake of perdition, if there be one!” muttered Mr. Hamilton, as he departed for the counting-room.  The last few sentences had fallen unheeded on Florence’s ear, for she sat looking out the window, her thoughts evidently far away.  But every trace of merriment vanished from Mary’s face, and instead of her bright smile, a look of painful anxiety settled there.  A long silence ensued; Mary stood by the table, wiping the cups as Aunt Fanny rinsed them, and occasionally glancing at her cousin.  At length she said,

“Florry, will you walk over to Mrs. Carlton’s with me?  I promised to go, and the walk will do you good, for indeed your cheeks are paler than I like to see them.”

“Certainly, Mary, but do you remember what father said about our remaining at home, to-day?”

“There is no danger, Florry, if we only look about us, and I really must go.”

“Well then, let us start at once.”

In a few moments they set out, equipped in large straw hats, and equally large gloves; in addition, Mary carried in her hand a basket, filled with herbs and flowers.

“If we walk briskly, we shall get there before any of the riders set forth.  Ah!  I am mistaken, there they come.  Florry, don’t go so near the street:  that horseman in blue, looks as though he were riding on ice—­see how his horse slides about!”