He had the Senora's wasted hand in his own, and was talking to her.

She sat in apathetic silence.

It was impossible to tell whether she heard or understood him.
"I wonder where Isabel is," said Antonia; and with the words the girl entered the room.

She had in her arms a little lad of four years old, suffering the tortures of croup.
"Mi madre," she cried, "you know how to save him! He is dying! Save him! Listen to me! The Holy Mother says so"; and she laid the child on her knee.
A change like a flash of light passed over the Senora's face.

"The poor little one!" Her motherly instincts crushed down everything else.