Even the crumbling wreaths which had been placed on
some of the statues' heads at the time of the last ceremonial at
which they had figured in the Mission, had been brought away
with them by the devout sacristan, and the Senora had replaced
each one, holding it only a degree less sacred than the statue itself.
This chapel was dearer to the Senora than her house. It had been
built by the General in the second year of their married life. In it
her four children had been christened, and from it all but one, her
handsome Felipe, had been buried while they were yet infants. In
the General's time, while the estate was at its best, and hundreds of
Indians living within its borders, there was many a Sunday when
the scene to be witnessed there was like the scenes at the
Missions,-- the chapel full of kneeling men and women; those who
could not find room inside kneeling on the garden walks outside;
Father Salvierderra, in gorgeous vestments, coming, at close of the
services, slowly down the aisle, the close-packed rows of
worshippers parting to right and left to let him through, all looking
up eagerly for his blessing, women giving him offerings of fruit or
flowers, and holding up their babies that he might lay his hands on
their heads.
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