"I'm very glad! I have a letter for him, and if a happy chance had not brought me here, I should have come expressly to see him." Meanwhile the "happy chance," that is to say, poor Maria Clara, had awakened. "Come, de Espadana, come, see Clarita," said Dona Victorina. "It is for you he does this," she went on, turning to Captain Tiago; "my husband attends only people of quality." The sick-room was almost in obscurity, the windows closed, for fear of draughts; two candles, burning before an image of the Virgin of Antipolo, sent out feeble glimmers. Enveloped in multiple folds of white, the lovely figure of Maria lay on her bed of kamagon, behind curtains of jusi and pina. Her abundant hair about her face increased its transparent pallor, as did the radiance of her great, sad eyes. Beside her were her two friends, and Andeng holding a lily branch. De Espadana felt her pulse, examined her tongue, asked a question or two, and nodded his head. "Sh--she is s--sick, but she can be c--cured." Dona Victorina looked proudly at their audience. "Lichen with m--m--milk, for the m--m--morning, syrup of m--m--marshmallow, and two tablets of cynoglossum." "Take courage, Clarita," said Dona Victorina, approaching the bed, "we have come to cure you. I'm going to present to you our cousin." Linares, absorbed, was gazing at those eloquent eyes, which seemed to be searching for some one; he did not hear Dona Victorina. "Senor Linares," said the curate, drawing him out of his abstraction, "here is Father Damaso." It was indeed he; but it was not the Father Damaso of heretofore, so vigorous and alert. He walked uncertainly, and he was pale and sad. XXXVI. PROJECTS. With no word for any one else, Father Damaso went straight to Maria's bed and took her hand. "Maria," he said with great tenderness, and tears gushed from his eyes, "Maria, my child, you must not die!" Maria Clara looked at him with some astonishment. No one of those who knew the Franciscan would have believed him capable of such display of feeling. He could not say another word, but moved aside the draperies and went out among the plants of Maria's balcony, crying like a child. "How he loves his god-daughter!" every one thought. Father Salvi, motionless and silent, watched him intently. When the father's grief seemed more controlled, Dona Victorino presented young Linares. Father Damaso, saying nothing, looked him over from head to foot, took the letter, read it without appearing to comprehend, and asked: "Well, who are you?" "Alfonso Linares, the godson of your brother-in-law----" stammered the young fellow. Father Damaso threw back his head and examined him anew, his face clearing.