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H were slowlyripening bitter fruits for the Senora's gathering in later years.
IV
IT was longer even than the Senora had thought it would be,before Father Salvierderra arrived. The old man had grown feebleduring the year that she had not seen him, and it was a very shortday's journey that he could make now without too great fatigue. Itwas not only his body that had failed. He had lost heart; and themiles which would have been nothing to him, had he incest story in thecompanionship of hopeful and happy thoughts, stretched outwearily as he brooded over sad memories and still sadderanticipations,-- the downfall of the Missions, the loss of their vastestates, and the growing power of incest story ungodly in the land. Thefinal decision of the United States Government in regard to theMission-lands had been a terrible blow to him. He had devoutlybelieved that ultimate restoration of these great estates to theChurch was inevitable. In the long vigils which he always keptwhen at home at the Franciscan Monastery in Santa Barbara,kneeling on the stone pavement in the church, and prayingceaselessly from midnight till dawn, he had often had visionsvouchsafed him of a new dispensation, in which the Missionestablishments should be reinstated in all their old splendor andprosperity, and their Indian converts again numbered by tens ofthousands.
Long after every one knew that this was impossible, he wouldnarrate these visions with the faith of an old Bible seer, anddeclare that they must come true, and that it was a sin to despond.But as year after year he journeyed up and down the country,seeing, at Mission after Mission, the buildings crumbling into ruin,the lands all taken, sold, resold, and settled by greedy speculators;the Indian converts disappearing, driven back to their originalwildernesses, the last traces of the noble work of his order beingrapidly swept away, his courage faltered, his faith died incest story in the manners and customs of his order itself, also, weregiving him deep pain. He was a Franciscan of the same type asFrancis of Assisi. To wear a shoe in place of a sandal, to takemoney.

In a purse for a journey, above all to lay aside the graygown and cowl for any sort of secular garment, seemed to himwicked. To own comfortable clothes while there were otherssuffering for want of them -- and there were always such -- seemedto him a sin for which one might not undeservedly be smitten withsudden and terrible punishment. In vain the Brothers again andagain supplied him with a warm cloak; he gave it away to the firstbeggar he met: and as for food, the refectory would have been leftbare, and the whole brotherhood starving, if the supplies had notbeen carefully hidden and incest story so that Father Salvierderra couldnot give them all away. He was fast becoming that most tragic yetoften sublime sight, a man who has survived, not only his owntime, but the ideas and ideals of it. Earth holds no sharperloneliness: the bitterness of exile, the anguish of friendlessness attheir utmost, are in it; and yet it is so much greater than they, thateven they seem small part of it.
It was with thoughts such as these that Father Salvierderra drewnear the home of the Senora Moreno late in the afternoon of one ofthose midsummer days of which Southern California has so manyin spring. The almonds had bloomed and the blossoms fallen; theapricots also, and the peaches and pears; on all the orchards ofthese fruits had come a filmy tint of green, so light it was hardlymore than a shadow on the gray. The willows were vivid lightgreen, and the orange groves dark and glossy like laurel. Thebillowy hills on either side the valley were covered with verdureand bloom,-- myriads of low blossoming plants, so close to theearth that their.

Tints lapped and overlapped on each other, and onthe green of the grass, as feathers in fine plumage overlap eachother and blend into a changeful color.
The countless curves, hollows, and crests of the coast-hills inSouthern California heighten these chameleon effects of the springverdure; they are like nothing in nature except the glitter of abrilliant lizard in the sun or the iridescent sheen of a peacock'sneck.
Father Salvierderra paused many times to gaze at the beautifulpicture. Flowers were always dear to the Franciscans. Saint Francishimself permitted all decorations which could be made of flowers.He classed them with his brothers and sisters, the sun, moon, andstars,-- all members of the sacred choir praising God.
It was melancholy to see how, after each one of these pauses, eachfresh drinking in of the beauty of the landscape and the balmy air,the old man resumed incest story slow pace, with a long sigh and his eyescast down. The fairer this beautiful land, the sadder to know it lostto the Church, -- alien hands reaping its fulness, establishing newcustoms, new laws. All the way down the coast from SantaBarbara he had seen, at every stopping-place, new tokens of thesettling up of the country,-- farms opening, towns growing; theAmericans pouring in, at all points, to reap the advantages of theirnew possessions. It was this which had made his journeyheavy-hearted, and made him feel, in approaching the SenoraMoreno's, as if he were coming to one of the last sure strongholdsof the Catholic faith left in the country.
When he was within two miles of the house, he struck off from the.