In that hour she stepped outside all of
her childhood's immaturities. She became a woman. She
accepted with joyful tears a woman's lot of love and sorrow.
She said to Antonia:
"Luis was in my heart before; now, I have put him in my soul.
My soul will never die. So I shall never forget him--never
cease to love him."
Rachela faithfully kept her agreement. For one hour she was
asleep to all her charge did, and Isabel was in her own room
when the precious sixty minutes were over. Happy? So happy
that her soul seemed to have pushed her body aside, as a thing
not to be taken into account. She sang like a bird for very
gladsomeness. It was impossible for her to be still, and as
she went about her room with little dancing, balancing
movements of her hands and feet, Antonia knew that they were
keeping their happy rhythmic motion to the melody love sang in
her heart.
And she rejoiced with her little sister, though she was not
free from a certain regret for her concession, for it is the
after-reckoning with conscience that is so disagreeably strict
and uncomfortable. And yet, why make an element of anger and
suspicion between Isabel and her mother when there appeared to
be no cause to do so? Don Luis was going away. He was in
disgrace with his family--almost disinherited; the country was
on the point of war, and its fortunes might give him some
opportunities no one now foresaw.
Pages:
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75