Remember the Alamo [24]
with
oleanders, and they met in a light, waving arch above her
head. At this season they were one mass of pale pink
blossoms and dark glossy leaves. The vivid sunshine through
them made a rosy light which tinged her face and her white
gown with an indescribable glow. If a mortal woman can ever
look like an angel, the fair, swiftly moving Antonia had at
that moment the angelic expression of joy and love; the
angelic unconsciousness of rapid and graceful movement; the
angelic atmosphere that was in itself a dream of paradise;
rose-tinted, divinely sweet and warm.
Dare saw her coming, and suddenly ceased speaking{.??} He was
in the midst of a sentence, but he forgot what he was saying.
He forgot where he was. He knew nothing, felt nothing, saw
nothing, heard nothing but Antonia. And yet he did not fall
at her feet, and kiss her hands and whisper delightful
extravagances; all of which things an Iberian lover would have
done, and felt and looked in the doing perfectly graceful and
natural.
Dare Grant only clasped both the pretty hands held out to him;
only said "Antonia! Antonia!" only looked at her with eyes
full of a loving question, which found its instant answer in
her own. In that moment they revealed to each other the
length and breadth, the height and the depth of their
affection. They had not thought of disguising it; they made
no attempt to do so; and Robert Worth needed not the
confession which, a few hours later, Grant thought it right to
make to him.
When they entered the house together, a happy, noisy group,
Rachela had left her chair and was going hurriedly upstairs to
tell the Senora her surmise; but Jack passed her with a bound,
and was at his mother's side before the heavy old woman had
comprehended his passing salutation.
"Madre! Mother, I am here!
The Senora was on her couch in her darkened room. She had
been at the very earliest mass, had a headache, and had come
home in a state of rebellion against heaven and earth. But
Jack was her idol, the one child for whose presence she
continually pined, the one human creature to whose will and
happiness she delighted to sacrifice her own. When she heard
his voice she rose quickly, crying out:
"A miracle! A miracle! Grace of God and Mary, a miracle!
Only this morning, my precious, my boy! I asked the Holy
Mother to pity my sorrows, and send you to me. I vow to
Mary a new shrine. I vow to keep it, and dress it for one
whole year. I will give my opal ring to the poor. Oh, Juan!
Juan! Juan I am too blessed."
Her words were broken into pieces by his kisses. He knelt at
her knees, and stroked her face, and patted her hands, and did
all with such natural fervor and grace, that anything else, or
anything less, must have seemed cold and unfilial.
"Come, my beautiful mother, and see my friend. I have told
him so much about you; and poor Dare has no mother. I have
promised him that you will be his mother also. Dare is so
good--the finest fellow in all the world; come down and see
Dare, and let us have a real Mexican dinner, madre. I have
not tasted an olla since I left you."
She could not resist him. She made Rachela lay out her
prettiest dress, and when Jack said "how beautiful your hair
is, mother; no one has hair like you!" she drew out the great
shell pins, and let it fall like a cloud around her, and with
a glad pride gave Rachela the order to get out her jewelled
comb and gilded fan and finest mantilla. And oh! how
happy is that mother who has such pure and fervent admiration
from her son; and how happy is that son to whom his mother is
ever beautiful!
Jack's presence drove all the evil spirits out of the house.
The windows were thrown open; the sunshine came in. He was
running after Isabel, he was playing the mandolin; his voice,
his laugh, his quick footstep, were everywhere.
In spite of the trouble in the city, there was a real festival
in the house. The Senora came down in her sweetest temper and
her finest garments. She arranged Jack's dinner
oleanders, and they met in a light, waving arch above her
head. At this season they were one mass of pale pink
blossoms and dark glossy leaves. The vivid sunshine through
them made a rosy light which tinged her face and her white
gown with an indescribable glow. If a mortal woman can ever
look like an angel, the fair, swiftly moving Antonia had at
that moment the angelic expression of joy and love; the
angelic unconsciousness of rapid and graceful movement; the
angelic atmosphere that was in itself a dream of paradise;
rose-tinted, divinely sweet and warm.
Dare saw her coming, and suddenly ceased speaking{.??} He was
in the midst of a sentence, but he forgot what he was saying.
He forgot where he was. He knew nothing, felt nothing, saw
nothing, heard nothing but Antonia. And yet he did not fall
at her feet, and kiss her hands and whisper delightful
extravagances; all of which things an Iberian lover would have
done, and felt and looked in the doing perfectly graceful and
natural.
Dare Grant only clasped both the pretty hands held out to him;
only said "Antonia! Antonia!" only looked at her with eyes
full of a loving question, which found its instant answer in
her own. In that moment they revealed to each other the
length and breadth, the height and the depth of their
affection. They had not thought of disguising it; they made
no attempt to do so; and Robert Worth needed not the
confession which, a few hours later, Grant thought it right to
make to him.
When they entered the house together, a happy, noisy group,
Rachela had left her chair and was going hurriedly upstairs to
tell the Senora her surmise; but Jack passed her with a bound,
and was at his mother's side before the heavy old woman had
comprehended his passing salutation.
"Madre! Mother, I am here!
The Senora was on her couch in her darkened room. She had
been at the very earliest mass, had a headache, and had come
home in a state of rebellion against heaven and earth. But
Jack was her idol, the one child for whose presence she
continually pined, the one human creature to whose will and
happiness she delighted to sacrifice her own. When she heard
his voice she rose quickly, crying out:
"A miracle! A miracle! Grace of God and Mary, a miracle!
Only this morning, my precious, my boy! I asked the Holy
Mother to pity my sorrows, and send you to me. I vow to
Mary a new shrine. I vow to keep it, and dress it for one
whole year. I will give my opal ring to the poor. Oh, Juan!
Juan! Juan I am too blessed."
Her words were broken into pieces by his kisses. He knelt at
her knees, and stroked her face, and patted her hands, and did
all with such natural fervor and grace, that anything else, or
anything less, must have seemed cold and unfilial.
"Come, my beautiful mother, and see my friend. I have told
him so much about you; and poor Dare has no mother. I have
promised him that you will be his mother also. Dare is so
good--the finest fellow in all the world; come down and see
Dare, and let us have a real Mexican dinner, madre. I have
not tasted an olla since I left you."
She could not resist him. She made Rachela lay out her
prettiest dress, and when Jack said "how beautiful your hair
is, mother; no one has hair like you!" she drew out the great
shell pins, and let it fall like a cloud around her, and with
a glad pride gave Rachela the order to get out her jewelled
comb and gilded fan and finest mantilla. And oh! how
happy is that mother who has such pure and fervent admiration
from her son; and how happy is that son to whom his mother is
ever beautiful!
Jack's presence drove all the evil spirits out of the house.
The windows were thrown open; the sunshine came in. He was
running after Isabel, he was playing the mandolin; his voice,
his laugh, his quick footstep, were everywhere.
In spite of the trouble in the city, there was a real festival
in the house. The Senora came down in her sweetest temper and
her finest garments. She arranged Jack's dinner