"Now I am ready," said the mother, evidently very happy herself. "Ah, señor, you are too good," as we slipped a substantial coin into the boy's hand and bade him buy his mother a fairing and himself chestnuts and ambitions. "But after all, the pleasure of conferring happiness is the most exquisite in the world. There is nothing like it. So perhaps I should envy, not chide you."
They went off together, the boy taking his mother's arm with that confidential affection and good understanding so often seen abroad. To him the world was still a paradise, and his mother at the head of all good angels. _Les beaux jours de la vie_--short-lived, but eternally remembered. So, parents, indulge your children but do not spoil them. The one is quite possible without the other.
It was to be a day of encounters. We followed our happy pair down the deserted street, admiring the graceful walk of the mother, the boy's tall, straight, well-knit form and light footstep. As they disappeared round the corner leading to the noisy scene of action, a quiet figure issued from beneath the wonderful arcades and approached in our direction. She was dressed as a Sister of Mercy and seemed to glide along with noiseless movements.
"Rosalie," we breathed, turning to H. C. for confirmation.
"Without doubt," he replied. "There could not be two Rosalies in one town."
On the impulse of the moment we went up and, bareheaded, spoke to her; felt we knew her--had known her long. Anselmo's vivid confession had taken the place of time and custom.
Yes, it was Rosalie. A more beautiful face was seldom seen, never a more holy; all the refinement and repose of Anselmo's added to an infinite feminine grace and softness. They were even strangely alike, as though the same impulse in their lives, a constant dwelling upon each other, their fervent, though purified, affection had created a similarity of feature and expression. Hers was the face of one whose life is turned steadily heavenwards, to whom occasionally, whether waking or sleeping, a momentary glimpse of unseen glories is vouchsafed, one whose daily work on earth is that of a ministering spirit. As far as it is possible or permitted here, Rosalie bore the evidence of a perfect and unalloyed life that had never looked back or attempted to serve two masters. Perhaps she might have become a mystic, but the serious and practical nature of her work kept her mind in a healthy groove, free from introspection. She was walking her lonely pilgrimage along the narrow road of her dream with firm, unflinching steps. The end, far off though it might yet be for Anselmo and for her, could not be doubted.