When I parted from Ysidria at Madre Moreno's that evening, after the
destruction of the plant, I looked into her blue eyes, and suddenly the
pupil spread over the entire iris.
"Oh! Ysidria, your eyes are beautiful," and I pressed a kiss upon them,
"good-bye, till we meet to-morrow. I am happy."
"Good night," she answered, "I shall see you in the morning. I will rise
as the first rays of the sun, come through my window, and my first
thought will be of you."
We parted, and I watched her graceful form as she walked up the path to
the door; she turned and waved her hand to me as she passed from sight.
"Her eyes, alas, are all the light I know!" I said aloud, and, with an
indefinable feeling of sadness, walked briskly home.
I told Catalina all, that evening, but the good woman said nothing to
sadden me, but I could see sorrow in her face.
There were clouds in the sky at sunset, and every prospect of a storm;
the wind howled through the trees and rattled the doors of the old
house. I sat till late watching the collecting clouds which were rolling
on in turbulent masses, and very low, till all was dark, as the last
rent was filled, through which the moon had been shining. It was a
terrible storm, the worst I had ever known, and Catalina came to my door
at about two o'clock, in great fright, saying that she had seen a figure
like Madre Mareno, going by the house as if floating in the air, and had
heard a loud report as if there had been thunder in the distance, coming
from Tamalpais. I could hear the rumbling and could not tell what it
was; but I laughed at her fears and told her that it must have been a
shadow, for no human being even a witch, would be out in such a night,
if they could help it.
Catalina went back to her room, but was far from reassured, and sat the
rest of the night with her beads in her hand, praying by candle light.
The next morning the storm was over, though through the sky the clouds
were driving fast, but the rising sun touched them with gold and all the
trees looked bright and new. Early, after breakfast, I gathered some
flowers, and, mounting my mare, rode down to Madre Moreno's cottage.
The storm seemed to have been more severe here than at the rancho, for
the garden was destroyed and the vines by the house were hanging, torn
from the trellises.
Knocking at the half open door, I waited some minutes, but receiving no
answer, stepped into the room. Upon the table lay a sheet of paper, I
took it up to read what was written on it, thinking it would tell where
the Madre and Ysidria had gone.
All that was upon it was my name, but under the sheet was an envelope
addressed to me. I hurriedly broke the seal and spread the sheets before
me; they read--
My dear Carlos:
Scarcely do I know how to begin this letter to you, whom I love so
much. My aunt, Ambrosia, came to me last night, soon after you left
me at the gate; she was smiling and very happy, and resting her
hand on my shoulder said:
"Ysidria thou hast done well, thou couldst not have done better had
I trained thee to it." I was surprised at her manner, and asked her
to explain. She sat down beside me and taking my hand in hers
began:
"I know thou art willing to do much for thy old aunt, and I have
made thee, unknowingly, do it, though then wilt not blame me when I
tell the why I have." She then related to me a tale of her father's
time, when he had some trouble with your grandfather, and of the
curse which she had pronounced upon each generation of de Sotos;
you know all this. I listened in surprise and disgust, for she
seemed to gloat over the thought of avenging the fancied wrong.
"I have had revenge upon two generations through that plot of
ground, and now I must have it from the present, from their child,
Carlos de Sotos, through that same plot and through thee."
"Do you expect me to deceive him?" I cried in horror, "I will
rather leave your house than that." She laughed loudly at this, and
said: "It is too late now, Ysidria, the deed is already done." And
then she related to me a story so full of scheming and horror that
I can but write it in outline. She planned the terrible revenge
many years ago, and would alas, have made you the victim.
There is a plant called the atropa belladonna, a very poisonous
shrub, which is rare in this country, but Ambrosia obtained one and
planted it beside the little stream which runs by the ruined house.
It was that which we destroyed. From this she extracted the juices
as she well knows how. Now begins the awful scheme. She sent for
me, who was living at the Convent de Santa Clara, to come and be
her companion, as she was growing old. She knew that I was
beautiful, and thinking to gain your love for me, tried in every
way to bring us together. We met, and heaven knows we truly loved.
Ever since my arrival she has given me a sweetmeat, of which I once
told you. In this confection was the smallest quantity of the
extract of the poisonous atropa, and some Chinese drug unknown to
me, the taking of which in time became a necessity of my being, but
not till to-night did I know the contents of these drops or the
awful power to which I am a slave. The extract affected my eyes,
causing their unnatural brilliancy and impaired vision. Having
fixed this terrible habit upon me, she would wed me to you, and
thus make your future life miserable, for in a few years the drug
would ruin me in soul and body, and its only substitute could be
found in the fatal opium. The revenge is the height of cruelty, and
alas, I was to be the helpless medium. She thought that I should be
proud of the use to which she had put me, for she said it was as
much my duty to avenge the death of my grandfather as for her that
of her father. I know not what I said, but my anger gave me words.
I told her of the enormity of her crime, the inhumanity she had
shown, and that I would do no more nor longer remain with her.
She laughed and left the room. Presently returning, she handed me a
packet of the confections and with a mocking smile said: "Make thy
husband happy while these sweets last; they are my wedding present
to thee." She left me. I know the terrible power this drug has over
me, and nothing can ever cure. Even if the habit be not indulged
in, I have gone so far that my existence would be worse than death.
I will not make your life miserable; the dread of being blind is
nothing to this. May the Holy Mother forgive me for all I have been
the cause, innocent as I am, of bringing upon you. I love you too,
too well, and it is thus that I destroy Ambrosia Moreno's curse. No
more shall misfortune come upon you or yours, for with my life I
have bought your freedom, I have gone to the old adobe, and this
wedding gift of Ambrosia shall be my means of saving you. May good
St. Joseph shield you and all the Saints bless you. I will meet you
in the morning, Carlos, as I promised. Thank you deeply, heartily,
for your love, and when some time you are happily wedded, think of
Ysidria, and teach your wife to bless her for her love for you. One
last request. Give whatever I have to the good sisters in the
convent to take care of the statue of Our Lady of Santa Clara, and
ask them to keep me in their prayers.