THE STRANGER FROM AMERICA.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XIX, Issue 20, 13 February 1891, Page 21

THE STRANGER FROM AMERICA.

(Translated from the Spanish of Fulgosio by Mrs. Helen S. CONANT.) The Bay of Corunna was lying blue and placid in the afternoon sun. The polished cannon of the two old forts caught the sunbeams and glistened in peaceful splendour, and the great glass windows of the Tower of Hercules, the tall ligtthouse which lights the harbour, caught them, too, and shone as if the lamps were all ablaze. A ship was swinging with the tide in the offing. The sailors were climbing up and down the masts unfurling the sails and preparing for departure. The pier was crowded with men, women, and children, and small boats were plying back and forth, carrying the passengers on board. The crowd was composed of the poorer classeß, who, lacking means to farm their native land, were bound for South America in eeirch of fortune. There were tie uiual sorrowful leave-takings. Anxious looks »vere cast toward the ves^jl which was to bear its living freight across the sea, R3 if it could tell the secrete of the tempestuous waves which awaited n between haven and haven. Men and women were embracing, children weie cryin_', and as each boatload departed carrying the emigrants and the chests containing tueir scanty possessions, a wail arose from those who were to remaiu bemud. Antonio, an old sailor who had been ordered by the Captain to remain on the pier until the last emigrant was aboard, to bee that no cuildreu and no packages were let l behind in the general confusion, declared that he would rather face <i dozen Java pirates than such an army ot weeping women. ■• Come, good people, this is no time for ceremony,' 1 he called, briskly . " buny into the boats and get on board." Ho stopped and turned away his head to avoid the sight of a mother who was clinging to her «on and saying good-bye for the hundredth time. ■' Come, my good woman. let him go. The Madonna will protect him,' 1 he '-aid, ' This way, my dear" — addressing a pretty girl — " Bueui'S Ayus will hi better than ever if you are going to live there. Come into the boat quick, all of you. Hello ! my son, what is the matter with you / Have you lost your chest .' ' " I havn't any," replied a boy. who stoo t holdiag a little bundle tied up in a red cotton handkerchief. " Where are your folks— your father and mother ."' " There is nobody belonging to me,"' said the boy. His vo ci was so weary and bis wlule appearance so utterly forlorn and hopeless that the sailor looked at him shaiply. '• My eyes ! If my heatt was not as hard as a cocoanut I should pity you, ' hj exclaimed. • luto th>> bo it with you, and shame, I bay, upoi those who sent sj young a lad oil into the world alone.'' The good sailor wis too much ot a dipljmatist to express his opinion ot the boy's chances of success in the strange world beyond the sea, but he ad ied — " Jump into t lie boat, quick ; and it anyone on boird teases you, just remember Hi it my name is Antonio, do you hear ? If you gut into tuubic and do i,ot com' 1 to me, by heaven I I'll catch you and beat you black and blue Heilo, baby, what arc you doing here / 1 don't suppose you hue th — fie— goo 1 forcune to Mil with us," he continued, addressing a lovely httl : 4<rl ot auo'i< MKyetrs, who was holding U c boy a h tud and crj ing bitterly. The child di I not .mswor. and he turne 1 ag iin to the boy. '■ Who is ihin little gul .' Aud what is your name, boy ? ' he asked. " They c ill me Jos' l>eni o," said the boy. " That is a good m>me. But tbe baby, who is she t" 1 "bhe is Maria.'"

" That is a good name, too. Is she going on board, or does she ■tay ashore!" 4 " She stays ashore. Tes, sir," said Jose Benito, his voice breaking with sobs as he looked down at the child, who waa atill clinging to his hand. 11 Who are you little girl ? " asked the sailor, kindly. " I am Maria," she said. Under his rough exterior, Antoaio carried the tender heart of a child. Although he swore valiantly at the crowd of weeping women, he pitied every single one of them, and the passioaata <-ob% of this little girl came near making him cry as he had not cried Bince the day, years before, when he left the paternal cottage to begin the life of a sailor ol the seas. Maria waß a lovely child. Her large brown eyes, glistening with t»ars, looked up imploringly into the sailor's face. She clung with all her strength to the boy's hand, and as Antonio tried gently to draw her away she threw herself at his feet, and, clasping her little hands, begged him not to separate her from Jose. Here was a nice situation. The passengers, with the exception of the boy, were all on board, an! the last boat was waiting for Antonio. He could hear the creaking of the chains as the sailors weighed anchor. There was not a moment to lose, and still Maria clung to him with all the frenzy of childish grief. Put her away roughly he could not. "You must kiss your brother good-bye and run home, little girl. There is no help for it," he said. "She is not my sister," said Jose Benito. "You poor little thing, who are you, then?" a9ked the sailor. "And why do you care so much for this boy? " " I am Maria," sobbed the child. Poor Antonio was in despair. " The fact that you are Maria does not help matters in the least," he said, desperately. Then, turning to the boy— " Here, you, Jose, or Benito, or whoever yon are, tell me who is this little gin, and be quick abjut it. She is dressed better than you are. Who is she ? " "She is Maria ; that is all I know, sir," said the boy, still sobbing. " She lives ia the house where I lived. They say she is the nipce of the lady there ; but nobody cares for her." " Poor little thing," said Aatouio, drawing his roagh hand over his eyes. " You can comi aboard, little one," he added ; " there are women who will look after you, and when you gou grow up, if you still love your friend, you can marry him. But if we wait here any longer the captain will scold us. Will you come, Maria V " Yes, yes," said the child, eagerly, smiling through her tears " Jose Benito is all I lore in the world, for he is the only one who loves me. The others hate the sight of me. Oh, I know it all the time." As Antonio seized the two children tj hurry them into the boat, a woman came running down the pier. " Maria 1 Maria 1' s^ecilled Her voice was loud and angry. The little mrl trembled wita terror. If Antonio had not caujht her in his arms she would have fallen tj the ground. •' la this child your^ ?" ho asked, scowling at the woman. " She belongs to niv mistreat-, an 1 i nave orders to take her away from this fool ot a boy, ' replud tne woman. She was dress»l like a servant, and her face was as repelling as her harsh, ugly voice " I have no right to keep her," said the sailor fiercely, " but I must say that leaving her with you is like throwing acmary in o the jaws of a shark." " Wretch I" screamed the woman ; " but then who could expect anything decent and civil from an ugly sailor like you ? ' " If 1 am as ugly as you are may the L ;rd have mercy on me I" replied Autonio. He kissed the weeping child and spraag into the boat. "Good-bye, Maria. 1 will come back some day," called Jose Benito as the boat left. " Good-bye, Maiia," celled Antonio. And as he saw the womin with the ugly face dragging the child away he muttered a malediction between bis teeth, and swore by all the saints in the calendar that if there was any justice in Galicia that woman would end on the gallows. Yeais came and went. The suns of twelve summers had scorch d the old pier at Corunna, «Ipii on-: morning a ship's boat, rowed by two sailors, grated its keel on the beach, and a young man, the only passenger, sprang lightly ashore He was a tall, gracelul young fellow with wavy auburn hair, frank blue eyes, and a handsjme face, but hiß garments were old and threadbare. His trousers were of coarse, gray, cloth, and tjo long for him ; his coit, ehiny with much usage, was buttoned up to his throat as if to conceal the lack of starched linen ; his straw ha', broadbrimmed like those worn an ths South American plains, was frayed at the c Iges, and his heavy shoes were covered with patches, although they had been polished until they shone like a mirror. The utter poverty of his appe trance combined with its cleanliness and neatness was extremely pathetic. Ihe young man stood still for a moment running bis eyes over the different streets which led from the water, as if striving to recall old memories Then turning into one of them he bent his steps toward the main street of the town. The main 6treet was where all the life of the small seaport centred. Here were the handsomest houses, and before one of the largest the stranger stopped and timidly rang tha btll. " D.ies the widow Sanchez live here?" he asked, as a servant opened tLe door. "Yes, she lives here," waa the curt reply. "■ fell her that Joec Benito wishes to see her," said the young man. Without asking the stranger to enter, the servant turned away, when from the interior of the house came a gweet, eager voice : " Jose Benito 1 Can it be true ?" " S-> true, Senorita, that I am here to prove it," said the youn? man, lifting his ta'tered straw hat as a beautiful young girl appeared in the doorway.

" Where is Jose Beaito ? Where is he I" she exclaimed. " Here, Sanorita," b« replied, with a graceful bow. " You I Bat— but Jose Beaito was a boy when — " she hesitited. " Yes, SeDorita, he was a boy whea Maria bade him good-bye, bat that was twelve years ago." " When I bade him good-bye 1 True, it was years ago," she said with a weary sigh. " You, Ssoorita — are you Maria ?" " I am Maria " "I am Maria !" Tno9« were the very words you said when poor old Antonio asked your name." "Yes, yes, I remember. Are you, then, Jose Benito? lam sare of it now," cried the girl, her lovely face radiant with delight. She seized bis hand and drew him into a small reception room near the door. "It is such a long time since we parted," she Mid, catching her breath. As she looked at his handsome face ncr cheeks were covered with blushes. '• Yes, Senorita, twelve long weary years," he replied without raising his eyes. " Senorua ! Why do you address me a 9 Senorita ? Am I not always Maria to you /" The young man could not refrain from seizing and pressing the little hand which abe extended to him. Then drawing away from her, he said sadly : " In those days Ion? ago Jose B:nito was a boy and Maria a little child. Now 'ose Benito is a man, but ai poor as when he wept at parting with the child who is now a beautiful woman." " Supposing you are poor that is nothing," she said, blushing. " I know by your dress that fortune has not been kind to you before yon told me ; but for all that, dear old friend, you have improved. You talk better and have better manners than many a man who has gold in bis purse." Jose Ben'to's handsome face flushed crimson. " Still, after so many years a mm ought to bring money to show for bis work," he said with a sigh. " Your bands are soft and white, still I am sure you have been industrious," she said, smiling sweetly. He made no reply ; he did not even raise his eyes to her face. " Tell me, where is that sailor with the ugly face, wqo was going to carry me away with him ?" she asked. " He had an ugly face, it is true, Senorita, but he had a good heart , Poor old Antonio was a noble man." " Oh, yes, I remember how kindly he spoke to me. Where is ha?" " Ah, Senorita, who can tell ? In so many years the wind blows a sailor in all directions." '■ Poor old man I 1 shouUl like to 83e him again," she said. There was a rustling v ihe hallway, and a tall, elderly womaa eatere 1 the room, followed by twogirls, who resembled her so m ica that it was evident that they were her daughters. All three were richly dretiseJ in trailing silk attire ani covered with jewellery, in striking contiaic to Maria, who wore a cnaap cotton gown with no ornam u.s. '' \Vh»t is this 1 Who is th's man, Maria ?" exclaimed the woman is a sb.irp, disdainful voice. B foro Maria could rep'y, Jose Renito came forward. ' in this Senora b'anctiez ?" he asked politely. " Toat is my name," rephei the woman, tossing her head proudly. " 1 am Jose Benito," he said, " May the saints have mercy on us ' she exclaimed. Then turning to her daughters, she aided : " What do you think of this good-for-nothing 1 ' " That he has come back as poor ani saiftlesa as he went away," said Petra. " And as big a fool," added R imona, with a scornful laugh. " Yes, more stupid than ever," said tbeir mother, " look how he stands there like a log. Ho scarcely hea rs what we say." '■ And you, what are you doing here alone with tois man," asked Petra, turning toward Maria. " I was only winning him welcome," said the poor girl, blushing violently. " You cannot call this fellow a man," said Bamona, looking at him witD a contemptuous toss of her head. " I should think Maria would remember too well the trouble she bad for saying good-bje to that b;y to ever wish to set eyes on him again," exclaimed Petra. " That cost her not only a good whipping, but three days' solitary confinement on bread ani water." "What is ihe mater with you. Wny are you stiring at my daughter in such an impudent fashion?" exclaimed Wiiow Sinchea, addressing the young man, who stooi gaz'.ng at Petra, his eyes blaring with indignation. ♦' And let me tell you, " she added, "if this bold girl Maria was punished for siying good-bye to ym, she will be puuistied still more now for talking tjyou here alone. She will not only receive a sound scolding, but whenever my daughters and myself go to the promenade she will bo locked in her room that we may not return to find her disgracing herself talking with a beggar." " Tha Senorita Maria is not to blame, Senora. It was I who," began the young mau. She interrupted him. "That makes no difference. She bad no right to listen to you And as for you, the sooner you take yourself away the better." " I must wait until you read this," said the young man, handing her a letier. " Had 1 not been ordered to bring it to you, I should not have entered your house without your permission." "I am glad you have decency enough to apologise. Give the letter to me. Who sent it ?" " It is from my master." " Who is your master ?" " A generous, noble-hearted man, Senora ; and a very rich man too. He found me on board ship and he pitied me for my poverty and misfortunes. He offered to take me as bis servant and I was only too glad to accept."

ir" H'm 1 It he is rich and generous I should think he would give you better clothes to wear." "No doubt he will, Senora : but we only reached port an hour ago." "Whit br<sine«s has yo'ir m<*st°r wit-h m\ in such a hurry, too?" " I do n it know, Senora,'' replied ihe yo ing man ; but it did nit escape hie notice that the widow turned pale, and the hand that held the letter trembled. •' Are you to wait for an answer I" she asked. " Yes, Senora." " Then go and wait at the door until I call you." The young man turned to ob-'y, when the widow, wlio had hastily opened the letter, started violently. "Jose Beniio, Jose Benito, coaae here quick !" plie called. Her daughters rushed to her side, qu 'Stioning her eagerly, but she ordered them from the room to 3 r etuer with M .na. Then closing the door she turned to Jose Benito. • % Wbo is your mister / What is his name?" shj asked sharply. •• Don Jose de Z iyas, Senora." •' Is he a respectab c person ?" "He is said to be worth 5,000,000 dols." " But is be a gentleman ?" "Ah, Senora, witn si much money he — " " Very well, lhat is enough," she said, impatiently. " Tell him I will receive him at once." " Thank you, Senora," sud poor Jose Baiito as hi went away. A half hour later as the wi low Sanchez, .Ut're 1 in her ricbest costume, sat waiting in her parlour, the maii announced the arrival of the expected guest. As the man entered th 1 room the widow bit her lips t~> restrain a Bmile at his extraordinary figure. He wjs tall and stout, with stooping shoulders; he had an enormous re 1 nose, and his wrinkled skin was brown and weather-beaten ; a stiff, bristkng grey beard covered the lower part of his tace, and his hair was reduced to a grey fringe across the back of his neck leaving the r.-st of his head bare. His costume was of fine black broadclotu, with the exception of the vest, which was of yellow velvet shotted with red. Across his broid and ample breast he wore a gold watch chain as massive as a ship's cable, his fat fingers were covered with costly rings, and in his shut front J sparkled a magnificent diamond. At the widow's request he seated himself upon tbe sofa, while his long legs stretched halfway across he parlour." For a few moments nut i word was spokeu . each sat eyeiug the other with evident distrust and suspicion. " Have I the honour of addressing Do j Jose de Zayas 1 " said the i widow at length. "Your servant. Senora. An! I suppose I am addressing the widow Sanchtz I " said the stranger with an awkward bow. He was evidently embarrassed. H; coughed several times, ran his fingers nervously througn his beard, ant then eat gazing at his bejewelled hands. At length, summoning up courage he said . " I am a plain man, of f^w woras, Senora, an i we will procee 1 to business at once, What is your answer, yes or no i " The widow hen ate J. She had already formed her own plan^ to appropriate th a man's millions, and they dill mi materially trom thus- which he bail propo-el. Her object now was to gain time. " When I rrad this lttter wiiich your servant — " "My secretary. 1 hive male the young man my stcro'ary,' he interrupted her grufilv. " 1 beg your paidun, Si_nora, your sacretary. Wnen I read thU this let'er I thought a' first it was a cruel ] Ke some malicious person was playing on an unp. ad widow, but — "As I told the tiuth v saw that it was in dead earnest— eb, Senora ? ' " I have been very unfortunate,'' she sai 1 pies-ing her handkerchief to her eyes, •■ a-.d rouca as I shrink from doiuu' so, I aii compelled to accept your off-red aid. *hmk I ein make tre tcims eatisfhetory to you," sne added with iisiu.j ring smile. "I wi'it nothing, Senon, except wuat l'j letter state 1 ; that, or our business is at .mend Do you undersUud ! I thought the letter was plain enough. Listen ' He leaved forwn'd su ideuly, aid taking the 1 ttei from lur hand, beg^n to read : " Respected Senoia I know that n;tonly tne hous which you live, but your j.weis and all your prjperty have been m .tgaged and the money squander d. You have also appropnat^d to your own use the property of your niece and w.ird, Mam, which has also been lost. Your creditors are pressing you, and within a week your house will be sold over jour head to satisfy their demands. 1 will pay off your mortgages and place you v comfortable circumstances on one condition — that you give me the baud of vuur niece, Maria, in marriage." The old man laid the letttr on the table and sat awaitin^ her reply. •• But, Senor, Ido not know \sho you ?re. You may be unable to do all this " si c gasptd. "Look 1 he said, drawing a pickige of pipers trom his pocket, which he carefull} uiifulued ana he.d at a sat,, distance for her to see. They were nil tIK m jp gages and a^te win -h were outstanding «ainst her. " I have bought all these and now I am your creditor," h s said, chuckling to hiais°lt i.s he saw her cheeks grow pa'e. " And 1 have Still more," he went on, "I Lave lull proof of your theft ot>our ward's money. You thought that you had destroyed them, "bu\ Senor.i, such actions are sure to corns to lu'ht. On the- day tint Maria uecomts my wife, 1 will burn all ihcsa in sour pres't.ce. Tf you refuse my pwpoh.il 1 shall „ioe c i au'tin^t >ou 'o the full extent of the law. Vow, uko jour choice. MeaiiAhile I will Ull you all jou need to know at my history. I weut to South Americn a poor boy. Tb»ie a kmd man took me into his service, I nursed him through a

terrible illne«, an 1 In became so fond of me that, as he had not a relative in the world, he adopted me and pave me his name, which I hope t ) carry with honour as long as I live. When my benefactor died I found he !i;ul made me heir to his immense fortune. I then wont" in ''tlifornn wp^, by Incky investment?, T doubled my money. If we were in California now I should marry Maria and leave you t > starve, but I kuow that here in Spain her marriage would not ba legal without the consent of her guardian. Now, what have you to say ? " Tne wuiow was cornered. Sue nuved uneasily in her chair as she replied : '■ Rut, Senor, you arrived only a few hours ago ; you have not even seen my niece. Wny do jou wish to marry her? '• I have been in Coruuna before, Senora, and I know more about your nicc9 :han you think and then the wh'jle town speaks of Senora Waria dp Hivera as >* model of beauty and virtue. lam an old man, and my only wish is to settle down with a young and pretty wife for my cjmpanion. If you have any further doubta of my wealth you are at liberty to go to my bankers here in Corunna. But time is pressing, Senora, you must give me an answer at once." The eld man arose and Btood watching her, with his small twinkling eyes. The widow had no alternative. Furious as she was over what she conside r ed Maria's good fortune, she was compelled to acquiesce in it. That the girl herself would resist it never entered her mind, but liana, hitherto the meekest and most submissive of maidens, declared that she would throw herself heidlong from the Tower of Hercules sooner than becomo the wife of such a hideous old man. The wi low's commands and entreaties were of no avail, and in despur she finally locked the \oung girl in her room, declaring that she should remain a prisoner until she came to her senses. In the morning Jose Bcnito appeared with a note from his master. He was dressed in a new suit ot cl >thes as became the secretary of a millionaire and looked handsomer than ever. 1c the note Sinor Z^yas requested permission to visit his bride, which t ho widow di 1 not dare to refuse. Then she set to work to prepare the obstinate girl for the interview. It was not an easy task. Only after a storm of tnreats and abuse did Maria allow herself to be arrayed in a silk gown belonging tj one of her cousms and conducted to the parlour to await the arrival of the dreided bridegroom. Ihe widow met bitn at the door. She thought it wise to inform him of Maria's rebellious state of mind before he saw her. '• H'm 1 So she objects to the marriage, does she ? That is venous," siid the ola man thoughtfully. " Please allow me to see htr alone for a tew moments. I think I can tame the little rebel," ne added, wrh a stli-satisfied smile. A solitary interview wjs contrary to all laws of Spanish etiquette, but this was an extreme case and the widow was forced to give way. Although the was dying to be presenc sac took the old mau to the parlour and left him alone wi.h the unfortunate girl. When the returned to the room half an hour latter she found Maria weeping bitt,rly, but the old man was sitting at her side, holding her dainty band in his rougo, red paws. He had evidently conquered, In the days that toilowed Maria crept about the house, pale and si cut. Jose Beuito ciiiie constantly, bunging Mowers and rich pie- [ seats irom his, m is'.er ;o the bride. Every evening tbe old man was I at Ma.iis siu ', .»rjd strange as n m.i/ seem, 3 ie wa.s evidently growI mg lo dof him. Her lovely e>es sparkled when he appeared and his wh.sji.rt. i v ids ottcu brought a rosy b.ush to ncr fair cheeks. As loi the wiloa" an i uer daughters, the old man's ugly face was gilded oy his gold. The} neclai d 'hit he \%a3 the most elegant of gentlemen and their bared .ml jet.ousy of Maria increased every mom. ut. But ihey were helple-s and darul not say a word. Not far irom Coruuna an elegant villa stood in the midst of an I extent. \e park. Its o>vner lived in Madrid, and the place had been I foi bale for many years, but do one in Coiunna was rich enough to puiohase buch a magnificent pioperty. It st >od in solitary state, while the sunoun in g sjroun'is had become a wi d tangle, or shrubbery and f ,iet>t undergiuwth. among which tquirrels and wild deer roamed at wil'. 0 :e morning the gossips of Coruuna became wildly excited over the rumour tint u.e nch stranger from America had purchased the cutue esiatt 1 , aud would lit up the mansion with the utmost splendour to rtceive his bnde. That this rumour was true was soon proved by the anui s of cai {..enter-, masons, punters, and gardeners which | swarmed about the villa, an 1 by the great vans which were being lo.dcdwth furniture ot the nchest description, which a ship had brought from London to Corunua. Se.,or Zayas and his secretary, Jose Iknito, directed all the improvements in person, *-nd the old mau took a special interest in the lenovatiun and decoiation of fie chapel, for it was here that he mttndtd the marriage ceremony to take place. From nine tj time he went in an elegant carriage drawn by a span (if m iguihcent English horses, to take his bride to show the progreat) cf the work. On these occasions Mam was always accompanied, as was pi iper, by the Widow S niche/ and her daughters, to whom the ol 1 mau was most courteous, although certain people declared that they had slcu Mm iv ike lunoua grimaces behiud toeir backs which reveale i quite a dillertnt sate ut feeling. Maria apparently took lit t c u.t res*, in these piep orations for her future luxury. Still, the rotes wtre beginuin^ to bloom on her cheeks, aud the gossips 8-ud that when talk.u o ' with the handsome secretary of her future lord her lips weie much more smiling tl an the occasion called for. The widow and her daughters, on the contrary, treated Jose Beoito with gr^a' rude ls-. ; iv tact, they ignore 1 him completely ; but iho\ were loud in their prai-es of tne vnla, and bj.ved djwn to Don Jo=e tie Z i} as as did the Ist ichtes of old to the golden calf. "Ah, fseuor, 1 fe r love has mide you bhad,'' said the widow» viui Ijii bWceiLst buiilc. "1 am positive that M^iia cares nothing tot >ou. She if! nianjing you only to escape trooi us, Although we cave prott clcd h<_r ai I net lite, the uugra etui gin has Always hated us. Ihen, too, she h a girl with no manners , she is unfit to be the taig«

tress of an elegant mansion like yours. She will not make you happy, i Ben or. I ehonld be proud to see you married to some lady of a good Cornnn* family, and if she were not a chit of a child like Maria, but some .person of age and intelligence, surely she would be more companionable for you." Tne widow had made a bold stroke, and she waited to watch the effect of her words, but the old man's face was immovable. He stood watching her with his little, sharp, piercing grey eyes, and Baict not a word. " Ah, Senor, do you not answer me ; yon cinnot," she persisted, encouraged by his silence. " You, too, have notic°d that Maria is not fit to be year wife. Now, if jou really desire a young mid pretty wife, you select one with some style about her, like my Pi tra or my Ba mona; sot Buch an awkward, ignorant creature as Maria, who might make a decent wife for your stupid Eecretary, but not for you. ' " Caramba I Senora," roared the old maa . " I shall marry whom I please. I have loved Maria ever since 6he was a child, and that's the end of it. As to my secretary, lam fond of the young man, and must beg you to epeak respectfully of htm ; and, let me tell you, he is qnite able lo manage bis own love f flair when he chooses to have one." The widow trembled with rage, but Bhe dared not say another word. Tbe old man bad her tight in his clutchep. At last all the preparations were complete. The villa was a bower of luxury and beauty, the adjoining chapel was magnificently decorated, and the grounds were a paradise of sparkling fountains and flowers. For three successive Sundays the banns between Senor Don i Jose de Zayas and Senorita Don Maria de Rivera had been pro3laimed in the Cathedral of Coruona, and nothing remained but the ceremony of the priest's blessing on the marriage. On a sunny morning in early morniDg Don Jose's carriage stool before tbe widow's door, and the crowd, which always gathers upon such occasions, waited impatiently to witness the departure of the bride. She appeared at last — lovely apparition in a cloud of white lace and orange blossoms. It was easy to gee that she was trembling. A bright red spot gleamed on each of her cheeks, and she entered the carriage without raising her eyes from the ground. The widow and her daughters followed, and Maria was whirled away from the home where she bad toiled and suffered for so many sad years. When the biidal party reached the chapel it was already crowded with the invited guests. Jose Benito, atiired in the most elegant fasbioo, was at tbe door to receive the bride and conduct her to the altar, where the priest stood waiting. The happy bridegroom had not yet appeared. As they ascended the altar stairs a commotion waa seen in the middle aisle, and an old man, clad in a sailor's suit of blue flannel, embroidered with many anchors, came elbowing his way through the crowd. " Blessed be the day on wl ich I was born in the shadow of tbe Tower of Hercules ; blessed be the bridal pair, and most blessed of all be tbe hour in which I have fora off my toggery and put ou decent clothes!" be cried, in a loud, hearty voice, which rang to every corotr of the chapel. The excitement was intense. Men sprang to their feet ; the guest?, who all recognised tha old man at once, thought tbe bridegroom bad suddenly gi ne insane, and began each talking to the other. " Silence, all 1" thundered tbe old man. "Ibis plac> in i this hour are sacred, lieven n t Father, proceed with thj creuuny." The solemn voice- cf the priest was in* heard ie-iduig the marriage service, and tbe a^ moled guctts became still, lley were stupefied with as tm«hment. and not ur.nl the piust hid spokm the. final words which made the handsome joung pair kneflm^ before him husbind and wife did evt n the widow r< cover herstlf sufficiently to speak. Then springing to her f^et. sn- screamed : " Wbat outrageous bur csque is th's ? \\"h it "' She was silenced at om c by the brcbLTOoin, who, af er kissing his briJe, turnea unl factd the gut sts. "Senora nnd friends/Me said, 'I nm Jo ; c a. Zayas, tbe millionaire ; this lady is Maria my wife, aid this der.r old man— laying his hand affiCionatcly on the sailor's shoulder — is mv noble and faithful friend, Antonio. Reverend F ther, pro ounce the benediction."—New York Frrrman.