The Velvet Glove

se terrible erections of white stone and plaster which now disfigure the high land to the south of the city had not yet burst upon the calm of ancient architectural Spain. H

and not yet finished; assuredly conceived by a Moorish love of clear water in high p

on the sunny slope, lies the long low house of the Convent School of the Sisters of the True Faith. Here, amid the quiet of orchards--white in spring with blossom, the haunt of countless nightingales, heavy with fruit in autu

ain threw out the Jesuits. The flow was at its height so late as 1814, when Ferdinand VII --a Bourbon, of course--restored Jesuitism and the Inquisition at one stroke. And before and

l monastic orders were rigidly suppressed by Mendizabal, minister to Queen Christina. In 1851 they were all allowed to live again by the same Queen's daughter, Isabel II. So wags this world into which there came nineteen hundred ye

r hours. His great house on the Paseo del Ebro had not been thrown open for this brief visit, and he had been content to inhabit two rooms at the back of the house. From the balcony of one he had seen the incident related i

nds. In the fruit-trees on the lower land the nightingales were singing as they only sing in Spain. It was nearly dark, a warm evening of late spring, and there was no wind. Amid the thousand scents of blossom, of openin

ch assuredly had a Moorish ring in it. The little town of Sarrion lies far to the south, on the borders of Valencia, in the heart of the Moorish country. And to look at the face of Ramon de Sarrion and of his son, the still, brown-faced Marcos de Sarrion, was to conjure up some old romance of that sun-scorched height

ld with the fierce eyes and somewhat of the air of an eagle, which resemblance was further accentuated

ck or crevice through which the curious might peep, he drew rein, and sat motionless on his well-trained horse, listening. The clock at San Fernando immediately vouchsafed the informati

e, and then waited, posting himself immediately opposite a little grating let into the solid wood of the door. The window

atience. He waited a long time before the heavy doors were at length opened. The horse passed timorously within, with jerking ears and a distended nostril, looking fro

just inside the gates. No one spoke. The two nuns noiselessly replaced the heavy bo

table now. There were three or four chairs, and that was all. The bare walls were whitewashed. The Convent School of the Sisters of the True Faith did not err, at all events,

m, in the manner of a man who knew his su

e was tall, and within the shadow of her cap her eyes loomed darkly. She closed the door, and, throwing back her veil, came for

For Spanish women understand above all others the calling of love and motherhood. And it seemed that Sor Teresa--kno

her closely. Her face, framed by a spotles

hom she is really interested. She knows without asking. She stood before him with her hands crossed within the folds of her ample sleeves. Her face was lost again in the encircling shadow of her cap a

e as usual. Is it safe, after nightf

he snows are melting and the fishing is good. It is unusual t

of this house seemed to arouse a sense

hough I am aware that the affections are

t imperceptibly

"It is unusual, I know, but in this place you are al

They go to bed a

You can arouse her and bring her to me and no one need know that she has had

shrug of t

one. I am not a secretive man. All the world knows my opini

uietly as he loo

I supp

ed his

me see her alone. It may save compli

in the doorway a

which were in deep shadow, and she left him

oments the door of the waiting-room was again opened and a young girl hastened breathlessly in. She w

od Sister had to drag me out of bed before I would wake up. And then, of c

s as she spoke, tying the ribbon at the throat

ng good the omission with a friendly nonchalance. Then she turned

it is against the rules. What a joke! We are not allowed to see visitors a

of a peach that has ripened quickly in the glow of a southern sun. Her eyes were dark and very bright; the bird-like shallow vivacity of childhood still sparkled in them. It seemed that they were

d Sarrion, "as I may be leaving S

I wonder why! She has been cross with me lat

r hands with a ge

ripped over the foot of that stupid

for a moment at th

answered

she added hurriedly. "I hope he will be nice. One of the girls told me the other day that she disliked her father, which seems odd, doesn't it? Milagros de Villanueva--do you kn

ughed rath

d from your fa

rd from him since. He said he hoped to give me a surprise, he trust

rion, thoughtfully

he walls. He is afraid of all nuns. I know he is, though he denies it. Some day, in the h

expect it would. Tell me," he went on a

the lamp, the sword-stick he had

and then at him w

You ordered it yourself from Toledo. See, here is the crest. Where did you

hands on his dusty riding co

"I think not. The stick must have been stolen from him and found its way back to Saragossa in the hand of the thief. I

nto darkness. He was afraid of those quick, bright eyes--almost afr

d heard from your father and to hear t

ll that she wore was of the best that Saragossa could provide, and she wore it carelessly, as i

g me," she said, with the ever-ready laugh twi

ht, my child. Go

looking back, her face all shaded by

you have not h

ad," he added when the do