“In the morning my head and
heart both ached with the strain of thought which
had racked them so piteously. I shrank nervously
from appearing before any of my tormentors. But
they came to my door, wondering what kept me so late.
There was to be a splendid religious procession that
day. All the churches of Seville were to send
forth their imaged Madonnas in great splendor, with
attending priests, that their worshipers might see
them by broad daylight. Great preparations had
been made on this occasion, for one Madonna of wonderful
potency was to be brought forth from her convent for
the first time in ninety years. The convent Montes
Serat being one of most holy repute, and at a distance
from the city, had not, for nearly a century, joined
in the procession of the holy week; but now its famous
Madonna was coming forth from her sacred privacy,
rich in the gifts of her votaries, resplendent with
the jewels which attested her superior sanctity.
“The advent of no crowned monarch
into his capital ever produced a greater sensation
than this coming of our Lady of Montes Serat.
It awoke a strong spirit of rivalry in all the churches
of Seville. Fair devotees emptied their jewel
cases in behalf of their favorite Madonnas nothing
was withheld which female pride could bestow on the
object of its religious idolatry. So, for a time,
all Seville was in a tumult of ambitious rivalry,
and out of this was sure to come the most brilliant
day of the holy week. I had not cared to go to
this exhibition, but General Harrington had secured
a balcony overlooking that of the Infanta and her
suite. It was to be a splendid procession, they
said, and I should regret it forever if they permitted
me to remain at home.
“I found it easier to submit
than to contend, but still hesitated, when James Harrington
came up to the verandah where we were sitting, and
leaning over my chair, whispered a request that I should
go. His manner was almost caressing, and there
thrilled through his voice such genuine anxiety, that
I could hardly suppress the quick leaping of my heart,
or speak at first, it throbbed so loudly. The
rest had left us and we were alone.
“‘Do go! It seems
an age since I have seen you except in a crowd,’
he said, drawing a chair to mine.
“‘But this will be a crowd, also!’
“‘Not for us.’
“I looked up suddenly and felt
the warm crimson leap to my face, when my eyes met
his.
“‘Let us be happy this
once,’ he said, ’the crowd itself will
be well worth seeing. Besides, the Infanta will
be there, with her husband, Le Duc de
Montpensier. Then remember that the Princess Clementina,
wife of the Prince of Saxe Coburg will be of the party, quite
a nest of royalty, you will find; just the persons
that I for one should like to see.’
“’And so would I. My heart
always warms toward the children of that good man,
Louis Philippe,’ I answered.
“‘Then you will go?’
“’Yes, I will certainly
go; the promise of seeing all these interesting persons
makes me almost impatient.’
“’Ah, how bright you look;
we shall have a pleasant day. Mother is getting
ready. She seems to be feeling young as a girl.
Did you ever see any one change as she has since we
came to Seville?’
“‘The General was speaking
of it this morning,’ I replied. ’She
is so well and happy,’ he said, ’that
I can hardly think of moving yet. The very air
of Seville carries balm with it.’
“Harrington turned away and
walked to a window, as if I had said something to
disturb him. After a little he came back again
with the air of a man who had flung aside some unpleasant
burden, and began to talk of the country we were in.
“‘What a calm, delicious
climate it is,’ he said, ’I wonder people
can get angry or very much in earnest here. For
myself this country life seems like floating at will
on some lake, with scarcely air enough to stir a sail,
or ripple foam wreaths around the prow of one’s
boat; the very breath we draw is a luxury.’
“‘A sad one sometimes,’
I answered, ’the very solitude and repose which
steal over one, enfeebles the spirit and makes life
too harmonious for improvement either of the mind
or heart. Continued life in a place like this,
would rob an American of his last attribute, a
love of progression. Rest and sensuous enjoyment
were not intended for a people like us. Yet the
place is so lovely, I feel like a traitor while saying
this.’
“He looked at me with unconscious
earnestness, sighed gently and paced the room once
or twice before he resumed the subject.
“’You are right; a soul
worth having would never content itself with the drowsy
sweetness of a life like this. After all, the
great glory of existence lies in action.’
“‘And the greatest happiness;’
I answered, with a dreamy sense of the inaction to
which I, as a woman, was forever consigned.
“‘You speak with the feeling
of a man, shut out from his proper career,’
he said, ’there, I think you and I can have sympathy;
only the life of a woman should be restful, and full
of love.’
“‘And I of a man?’ I questioned.
“’You must not ask that
question of a man shut out from action, and and
even from the woman’s privilege of loving.’
“What was there in my expression
that changed his so instantly? Could he discover
in my eyes the brightness that had come over me with
the sound of his voice, tender and impressive as it
had been that day among the water lilies? I do
not know, but in a moment a cloud crept over his face,
and a chill into his voice.
“‘Excuse me, if I have
pressed you over much,’ he said. ’But
it is a lovely day and the procession will be well
worth seeing. If it would not be considered sacrilegious
among so many good Catholics, I should say, there
would be a rivalry among the Madonnas. You will
go?’
“‘Yes,’ I answered,
sinking into depression again, ’as well there
as here. Who will be of our party?’
“’Oh, the General, and
my mother, of course, with the Eatons. That will
be enough to fill the balcony.’
“I felt the blood growing warm
in my cheeks. Why must those Eatons forever compose
a portion of our party? Could no one see how I
detested this eternal companionship with persons who
had not a single idea or principle in common with
us?
“Just then Miss Eaton came into
the balcony her transparent muslin dress
looped up at the sleeves and throat with delicate blue
ribbons, floating like a cloud around her, and a wreath
of forget-me-nots relieving the snow-white chip of
her bonnet. Her parasol was frosted over with
soft Brussels lace, and a better dressed or more beautiful
creature I have seldom set my eyes upon. James
Harrington left my chair the moment she appeared.
Taking the parasol from her hand, he commenced playing
with it as he conversed with her, lightly, carelessly,
and with such smiles as he had not given me in many
a long day.
“At times one gets in love with
pain, to abridge it seems like cowardice. What
mattered it whether I suffered a little more or less,
since suffering was so early become my destiny?
This girl, with her bright beauty and soft words,
superseded me every where; yet she did not seem to
prize the homage for which I famished, but stood there,
smiling up in his face, and dropping a sweet word
now and then, carelessly, as she would have given
sugar to a parrot.”