Inez bent low, while he spread his hands above her head and pronounced the Latin text to that effect, then bade her rise, and dismissed her with a blessing.

The sun was just visible over the eastern hills, as Inez stepped upon the Plaza.  Her face was deadly pale, and the black eyes glittered strangely.

“I have knelt to thee for the last time, Father Mazzolin.  Long enough you have crushed me to the earth; one short month of seeming servitude, and I am free.  Think you I too cannot see the gathering tempest? for long I have watched it rise.  It may be that happiness is denied me; but yonder gurgling waters shall receive my body ere I become a lasting inmate of your gloomy cell.  My plan works well; even my wily Padre thinks me penitent for the past!  But dearly have I bought my safety.  I have played false! lied! where is my conscience?  Have I one?  No, no! ’tis dead.  Dead from the hour I listened to the Padre’s teachings!  If there be a hereafter, and, oh! if there is a God, what will become of me?” And the girl shuddered convulsively.  “Yet I have heard him lie.  I know that even he heeds not the laws of his pretended God!  He bade me follow his teachings, and I did, and I deceived him!  Hal he thinks the game all at his fingers’ ends.  But I will neither marry Manuel, nor be a holy sister of Jose.  There will come a time for me.  Now I must work, keep him in the dark, spend the month in seclusion; by that time the troubles here will begin, and who may tell the issue?”

A quick step behind her caused Inez to turn in the midst of her soliloquy.  Dr. Bryant was hastening by, but paused at sight of her face.

“Ah, Senorita!  How do you do this beautiful morning?” He looked at her earnestly, and added, “You are too pale, Inez—­much too pale.  Your midnight vigils do not agree with you; believe me, I speak seriously, you will undermine your health.”  Her eyes were fixed earnestly on his noble face, beaming with benevolence, and a slight flush tinged her cheek, as she replied, “Dr. Bryant, I am not the devout Catholic you suppose me.  The Padre thinks me remiss in many of my duties, and I am going for a short time to San Jose.  You need not look at me so strangely, I have no idea of becoming a nun, I assure you.”

“Inez, one of your faith can never be sure of anything; let me entreat you not to go to the convent.  You need recreation, and had much better mount your pony, and canter a couple of miles every morning; it would insure a more healthful state of both body and mind.”

“I must go, Dr. Bryant.”

“Well then, good-by, if you must, yet I fear you will not return looking any better.”

“Adios,” and they parted.

Inez’s eye followed the retreating form till an adjoining corner intervened.  Then pressing her hand on her heart, as if to still some exquisite pain, she murmured in saddened tones—­“Oh!  I would lay down my life for your love, yet it is lavished on one who has no heart to give in return.  Oh, that I may one day be able to serve you!”