Teresa, who was indeed tired out with the care of Catalina, and who was very sensitive to warm weather, was no less happy than we were, for she, too, was to go with us. Only Catalina manifested no enthusiasm over the coming visit. My father observing this said to her anxiously, "You have nothing to say, daughter mine?" "I'm not going, father." "What's that you say? You've been much better these last days and are well able to stand the trip. You weren't very well last year, and yet you went to 'Las Lilas' and found it so beneficial to your health." "Yes, I know, father," answered poor Catalina, "but I know also that I've always been a source of great trouble for you, and Teresa would never have a minute's peace because of me. I shall go a little later, father, when I'm stronger, if grandmother will have me. She knows very well how I long to go to 'Las Lilas' but I fear that the trip would only bring on an especial spell of weariness and that would spoil the fun of everybody. Maria, who works in the garden here, can look after me for a day or two. She is very kind and thoughtful, and I know she'll care for me very well." We all stared at Catalina! It was the first time in all her history that I had ever seen her forget herself. It was a great struggle, for she had become so accustomed to think only of her own comfort. Tears welled up in her eyes as she smilingly awaited father's decision. "But this is going to be a great disappointment to you," he said, passing his hand over the feverish forehead of the invalid. "No, father; it will give me great pleasure this time," came Catalina's brave answer. "Be it therefore as you wish," he said. Pleasure? I couldn't understand what pleasure there would be for Catalina to stay behind alone with Maria, especially at this time of the great event of the year. My father looked at Catalina tenderly as if he read her very heart, and saw there something he had never seen before. "Thou hast changed much, daughter mine, since your last sickness." "For better or worse?" asked Catalina with a mischievous smile. "For better, my daughter. Indeed, far better!" "It's because I'm older than I was, perhaps, father." "No, no; it's more than that." "I wonder if I could dare tell you the truth." "Never fear. Tell me what's on your mind, Catalina." "Well, it's this, father dear. God has spoken to me and I have answered Him." "How has He spoken to thee?" said my father, and there was no sternness in his look either. Catalina pointed furtively at Paula. "And how hast thou answered Him?" "I've asked Him that He might save me and that He might make me a real Christian." There was a strange look in my poor father's face as he answered quietly, "If I could believe that there was a God, I would say that He had heard thee." Catalina wrote a long letter to grandmother, the contents of which she did not care to show us. So it was as Catalina wished, and Maria promised to take good care of the invalid.