One time, he charged his calamities to the score of having eaten turtle, which was only half fish, on a Friday; at another, it was upon that unlucky day the journey had been begun; then he remembered that the Mexican was only a half-breed, who possibly, if baptized at all, was only an irregular kind of a Christian, admitted into the fold by some stray missionary, more trapper than priest. Then he bethought him that his patron, Saint Michel of Pavia, was of an uncertain humor, and often tormented his votaries, by way of trying their fidelity. These various doubts assumed the form of open grumblings, which certainly inspired very different sentiments in Donna Maria and myself than edification. As evening closed in, and darkness favored us, these ghostly lamentations afforded us many a low, quiet laugh. A soft pressure of the hand, which now, by mere accident, of course, she had let fall near me, would sometimes show how we concurred in our sentiments, till at length as the thicker gloom of night fell around, such was our unanimity that her hand remained clasped in my own, without any further attempt to remove it. If the Fra's gratitude burst forth eloquently as we came in sight of some spangled lights glittering through the gloom, our sensations were far more akin to disappointment. "Bexar at last, praised be Saint Michel!" exclaimed he. "It has been a long and dreary journey." Here I pressed Donna Maria's hand, and she returned the pressure. "Two days of disaster and sore suffering!" Another squeeze of the Señhora's fingers. "A time I shall never forget," muttered he. "Nor I," whispered I to my fair companion. "A season of trouble and distress!" quoth the Fra. "Of love and happiness!" muttered I. "And now, my worthy young friend," said he, addressing me, "as we are so soon to part,--for yonder is Bexar,--how shall we best show our gratitude? Would you like a 'novena' to 'Our Lady of Tears,' whose altar is here? or shall we vow a candle to Saint Nicomedè of Terapia?" "Thanks, holy Father, there is no need for either; mine was a slight service, more than requited by the pleasure of travelling in your company and that of this pious maiden. I have learned many a goodly lesson by the way, and will think over them as I wander on my future pilgrimage." "And whither may that tend, Señhor?" "To the shrine of 'Our Lady of Sorrows' at Aguaverde, by the help of Saint Francis." "Aguaverde!" exclaimed Fra Miguel, with a voice that bespoke anything rather than pleasure; "it is a long and a dangerous journey, young man!" "The greater the merit, Father!" "Trackless wastes and deep rivers, hostile Indians and even more cruel half-breeds. These are some of the perils," said he, in a voice of warning; but a gentle pressure from the Señhora's fingers was more than an answer to such terrors.