Madre Moreno never came again to my house, but always seemed to take an
interest in me, who, when I reached an age when I could be trusted away
from the garden, would wander with her through the woods while she was
gathering her herbs, and from her I learned much that was of great
benefit to me in after years. After my return from Mexico, we greeted in
friendly manner, and she seemed to take great pleasure in my company.
I never approached the ruin without a strange foreboding of something
terrible about to happen, which always disappeared after I had been
there a while and the charming beauty of the quiet spot had turned my
thoughts into pleasanter channels; perhaps the feeling of fear was
attributable to the stories I had heard during childhood, and had never
outgrown.
One day I saw Madre Moreno's red cloak showing out brightly from behind
the rank growths of nightshade, the tenderer leaves of which she seemed
to be carefully gathering. She was muttering to herself words
unintelligible to me, and did not seem to notice me, although I stood
for a long time very near where she was at work.
"Good morning, Madre; you are very busy to-day," I said, after a while.
She looked up, nodding in a friendly way, but not answering, while she
continued her jargon as she carefully laid in the basket the
oval-shaped, pointed leaves. As I drew nearer I noticed for the first
time that it was not the common nightshade, which grew wild about the
country, but was the atropa, a plant not indigenous to California. It
was in flower; the bell-shaped blossoms, of a dead, violet-brown colour,
with the green leaves about them, made a disagreeable combination seldom
seen in any of nature's pictures.
When she had completely filled her basket she turned to me and spoke: "I
am glad to see thee, Carlos, for it has been long since we have met, and
I began to think that thou hadst forgotten thy old friend, or, perhaps,
hadst learned all about flowers and herbs, so that she could teach thee
no more."
"No, Madre; I shall never know so much about them as you do. I can learn
their names and values only, while you put them all to so many good
uses," I answered. "What do you do with the leaves you have just
gathered? They are very poisonous, and you should wash your hands well
after touching them, and especially after getting the juice on your
fingers!"
"But thou knowest poison makes little difference with one like me, who
hath a charmed life," replied Madre Moreno, as she handed me the basket
to carry while she nimbly stepped from stone to stone and climbed out of
the hollow, here and there startling a snake or lizard that lay in the
sunshine.
"It is well done!" she abruptly said, and looking at me, burst into a
fit of laughter which was so spontaneous and hearty that I joined with
her, though I knew not at what I was laughing. My own laugh sounded
strangely, however, and seemed to me to echo with another tone from the
vine-covered walls as if some one were there, and like Madre Moreno,
were also laughing at me. I stopped suddenly, and I felt my face change
colour, and the same awe which I so often felt when about the ruined
house came upon me with a force I had never known before; I trembled as
I stood there beside this strange woman, who laughed louder and louder,
striking her little hands together in seeming ecstacy, while the sounds
echoed and re-echoed among the fig trees and heaps of stones, yet
seeming all the time less like echoes than like the voices of
innumerable, invisible creatures darting everywhere about the grove. The
place grew darker, for clouds just then obscured the sun and covered the
hills beyond Tamalpais. Madre Moreno came nearer to me and touched my
forehead. . . . . . . . . Suddenly the sun shown bright as ever upon the
fig and olive trees and gleamed from thousands of silver drops hanging
from every leaf; the snakes and lizards lay quietly upon the steaming
rocks and half burnt beams, while the rank vegetation sent forth a sweet
scent of green life.
"Why do you laugh at me, Madre?" I asked.
"Only, Carlos," she answered, "because it is so odd to see thee carrying
the old witch's basket with all the charms and thou knowing nothing
about it all; oh it is very odd!" and the Madre laughed again. "The
storm has gone over," she continued, "I feared it would last long, but
winter is almost gone, and it passed without much rain falling here."
"What storm?" I asked.
"The storm which has just passed, hast thou not noted it?"
"I saw no storm, you must be dreaming Madre, or trying some of your
spells upon me. There has been no storm for the sun has been shining
brightly, except when that cloud passed for a moment," I answered as I
handed her the basket.
"Whence came the drops of water which lie upon the leaves, Señor Carlos,
if not from the clouds which thou canst still see passing over the hills
toward San Anselmo? Thou knowest not all the power Ambrosia Moreno, thy
little madre, hath. So thou hast held the basket with the flat green
leaves."
"Oh! Madre Moreno, I can never understand you, but you must be careful
of the leaves you have just gathered, for they contain a most powerful
poison. I am more afraid, since the plant is rare or even unknown in the
Californias, that you do not know its power; you surely can never have
found it before, and how it came to be growing here is incomprehensible
to me."
The witch bent her head and looking into my face from under her
overhanging reboso, raised her finger and shook it before me saying as
she did so, "Thou art a learned señorito, Carlos Sotos, but although
Ambrosia Moreno hath never been in the college, she knows more of the
little flowers and bright leaves of this plant thou speakest of than all
the Jesuits or thy people shall ever learn. The very plant growing here
among these fallen stones is as old as thou art, Carlos Sotos, and that
almost to a year. It has ever grown on, season after season, and shall
live until its duty is performed, then let it wither when it shall no
longer be needed here. Thou must come down and see me, Carlos," she
continued in an altered voice, "for I have some new flowers which thou
shalt have; come for I am lonely and like young company, though I be a
witch as they say. Where goest thou to-day?"
"Above on the divide where I hope to find some of the Indian pinks for
my new collection."
"When doest thou return, before sundown?" asked Madre Moreno as she
prepared to go.
"Before that, surely," I answered, "I shall be back here at the ruin by
four o'clock, though I had no idea that the time had gone so fast, it is
almost noon; I must hurry or I shall have Catalina very hot waiting with
a cold supper. By the way Madre, she sent her best respects to you and
hopes that you will not bewitch any more of her poultry, for if you do,
they will be a headless lot in a short time."
Madre Moreno nodded knowingly, and closed one eye slyly as she answered,
"Thou art the cleverest señorito in these parts, but little as thou
believest in my influence with el bueno Diablo, as the old women call
him, I could disclose to thee many strange events which shall come after
this day, and from this meeting thou shall date thy future." She started
but turned and said, "My son, I have learned to love thee, yet I have a
duty beyond love; say that thou believest that my sainted father was
unjustly treated, and thy life shall be blessed."
"I cannot, Madre Moreno, I am sorry for the sad result of the case at
court, but as you know, it was only justice."
She said no more, but with a laugh, half broken by a sigh, the little
woman walked briskly under the olives and down over the brow of the
hill.
The grass and trees were all wet, the great laurels by the path shown as
if varnished, the huge madroño leaves each held a jewel on its tip; all
evidences of a heavy rain were about me, yet I had not been aware of it
falling. In a short time I was deep in the redwood forest, away from the
world in companionship with God.