Part 4

One evening the lovers were walking together near the Alamo when he asked: “Do you remember once hanging a Christmas lamp in the angle of that corner?” “Of course I do. It is one of the dearest of my childish memories.” “And do you remember a little boy who once knelt to you in your father’s office and implored you to protect his sister?” “Oh!” said she, the light of memory restoring the boyish cast to his features, and recalling as if by magic that exciting scene, “Can it be? Yes, you must be, you are Cano.” “The dream of my life, Jesusa, has been to meet you again, and meeting you, the most cherished hope of my heart has been to win your love.” “Well, you have succeeded,” said she archly.

Of course, Padre Ignacio, her life-long friend and confessor, who had christened her and blessed her at her first communion, officiated at the Nuptial Mass, and who could wonder if amid the decorations transforming the San Fernando altar into a mass of fragrant bloom there hung a Christmas lamp, whose flickering light, though obscured by the glorious sunshine flooding the church, cast a mild benison-like radiance over the young couple--brave soldier boy and maiden fair--plighting their wedded troth there, a radiance betokening faith, hope and undying love.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.