My great-uncle will tell you what to do; and my father will not blame you for following his advice.

Perhaps even he may offer his home.

You are the child of his sister." Fray Ignatius walked towards the fire-place and stood rubbing slowly his long, thin hands before the blaze, while the Senora and her daughters discussed this proposal.

The half-frantic mother was little inclined to make any further effort to resist the determined will of her old confessor; but the tears of Isabel won from her a promise to see her uncle.
"Then, my daughter, lose no time.

I cannot promise you many days in which choice will be left you.