"Indeed." said the Padre, coldly. "The things are ready
to go, I think." For the vessel called for mail and certain boxes that
the mission sent away. Felipe left the room in wonder at the Padre's
manner. But the priest was laughing secretly to see how little it was to
him where the barkentine was, or whether it should be coming or going.
But in the afternoon, at his piano, he found himself saying, "Other
ships call here, at any rate." And then for the first time he prayed to
be delivered from his thoughts. Yet presently he left his seat and looked
out of the window for a sight of the barkentine; but it was gone.
The season of the wine-making passed, and the preserving of all the
fruits that the mission fields grew. Lotions and medicines was distilled
from garden herbs. Perfume was manufactured from the petals of flowers
and certain spices, and presents of it despatched to San Fernando and
Ventura, and to friends at other places; for the Padre had a special
recepit. As the time ran on, two or three visitors passed a night with
him; and presently there was a word at various missions that Padre
Ignacio had begun to show his years. At Santa Ysabel del Mar they
whispered, "The Padre is not well." Yet he rode a great deal over the
hills by himself, and down the canyon very often, stopping where he had
sat with Gaston, to sit alone and look up and down, now at the hills
above, and now at the ocean below.
Pages:
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50