In the main, however, it is
well authenticated and runs parallel to fact.
Dona Rosa Varona lived barely long enough to learn that she had
given birth to twins. Don Esteban, whom people knew as a grim man,
took the blow of his sudden bereavement as became one of his
strong fiber. Leaving the priest upon his knees and the doctor
busied with the babies, he strode through the house and out into
the sunset, followed by the wails of the slave women. From the
negro quarters came the sound of other and even louder
lamentations, for Dona Rosa had been well loved and the news of
her passing had spread quickly.
Don Esteban was at heart a selfish man, and now, therefore, he
felt a sullen, fierce resentment mingled with his grief. What
trick was this? he asked himself. What had he done to merit such
misfortune? Had he not made rich gifts to the Church? Had he not
gone on foot to the shrine of Our Lady of Montserrate with a
splendid votive offering--a pair of eardrops, a necklace, and a
crucifix, all of diamonds that quivered in the sunlight like drops
of purest water? Had he not knelt and prayed for his wife's safe
delivery and then hung his gifts upon the sacred image, as Loyola
had hung up his weapons before that other counterpart of Our Lady?
Don Esteban scowled at the memory, for those gems were of the
finest, and certainly of a value sufficient to recompense the
Virgin for any ordinary miracle.
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