The green December hills, with flaming spots of toyones, had long been
inviting me to make a stroll among them to renew old acquaintanceship,
and many a day I felt like starting out from the rancho and throwing
myself into their great arms. The care of the flocks needed much of my
attention in winter, and I had been greatly alarmed at the news of the
terrible influx of "Yankees," as well as of the plots of the English,
and the future of my beloved California was dark enough to cast my life
in shadow.
One day, however, I broke away. Gentle breezes from the purple canoñs
floated by me laden with the scent of redwoods, and by the roadside the
clumps of laurel gave out their vigourous perfume as their branches were
stirred; then in the quietness of the air between these breaths, the
steaming earth yielded to my grateful sense its own peculiar and rich
odour. Few wild flowers were out, but on the gay manzanitas hung
millions of little pink and white bells, so delicate that they seemed
more like the bloom of some rare exotic than the winter gift of so hardy
and rugged a shrub.
I did not stop to rest until I had reached a high point of the path
where a sudden turn along the edge of a precipice threw open the whole
view of the valley. It was yet early morning, and I watched the floating
bits of mist drifting above the dark canoñs, canoñs so narrow that the
sun never reached their beds. Through clumps of leafless oaks the noisy
arroyo could be seen hidden here and there by the thick foliage of some
glistening madroño, with its red branches, or by dark, lustrous laurels.
Bunches of mistletoe upon the dry branches of the oaks smiled fresh and
green from their stolen perches like little oases in a desert of gray.
Sometimes an early bee flew by me with hungry humming, and the sharp
call of the jay would rise from the depths to mingle with the steady
sighing of the wind through the giant redwoods. I had taken my favourite
little mare, who never needed the bridle, being guided by my voice or
slightest motion, and as I sat with arms akimbo under my poncho I felt
as I were free again from all the trouble of life and could not but
halloa for very exuberance of joy. Presently there came an answer from
the cliffs above, and looking up I beheld Ysidria, mounted on the black
horse I had some months before given to Madre Moreno, to be used by her
niece, who was not so strong as she had been, and unable to walk so much
as formerly.
"Wait, and I will come down," she called and disappeared among the
shrubs.
Ysidria was much changed, she had grown thin and nervous during the
year; yet, failing as she did in body, her eyes seemed every day to
become more beautiful, as if they absorbed all her life. With the
growing brilliancy of her eyes, increased also their defective sight,
and she was quite unable to read, yet her power of extended vision was
wonderful.
Lately, I had cherished the thought of having Ysidria go to Santa Clara,
or even to Mexico, to be under the care of some experienced occulist,
and the fear of her becoming blind, when it might be too late to have
anything done, made me very anxious, and Pedirpozza, whom I might have
called, had gone for a time to the Colorado country.
The day before this, on which I met Ysidria in the mountains, I had
spoken to Madre Moreno of the subject nearest my heart. I had spoken but
a few words when she said:
"Thou needst not go any further, Señor Carlos, I know thy thoughts and
have read them for a long time. Thou hast no one to ask for Ysidria but
herself and the old witch, who is her only relative. I give my consent."
I was so delighted that I could only express myself by kissing the
forehead of Madre Moreno.
"Be careful my Señorito!" she cried starting back and then laughing, "be
careful how thou kissest the love of el bueno Diablo, or he may be
jealous and play thee a bad trick."