was something extraordinary in this.  Hush! was uttered by every voice almost at the same moment.  A dead silence followed,—­you would think, from their intent looks, that they listened with their very eyes.  This deep silence, contrasted with the splendor of the feast, and the light effused from torches held by the domestics, produced a singular effect,—­it seemed for some moments like an assembly of the dead.  The silence was interrupted, though the cause of wonder had not ceased, by the entrance of Father Olavida, the Confessor of Donna Isabella, who had been called away previous to the feast, to administer extreme unction to a dying man in the neighborhood.  He was a priest of uncommon sanctity, beloved in the family, and respected in the neighborhood, where he had displayed uncommon taste and talents for exorcism;—­in fact, this was the good Father’s forte, and he piqued himself on it accordingly.  The devil never fell into worse hands than Father Olavida’s, for when he was so contumacious as to resist Latin, and even the first verses of the Gospel of St. John in Greek, which the good Father never had recourse to but in cases of extreme stubbornness and difficulty,—­ (here Stanton recollected the English story of the Boy of Bilson, and blushed even in Spain for his countrymen),—­then he always applied to the Inquisition; and if the devils were ever so obstinate before, they were always seen to fly out of the possessed, just as, in the midst of their cries (no doubt of blasphemy), they were tied to the stake.  Some held out even till the flames surrounded them; but even the most stubborn must have been dislodged when the operation was over, for the devil himself could no longer tenant a crisp and glutinous lump of cinders.  Thus Father Olavida’s fame spread far and wide, and the Cardoza family had made uncommon interest to procure him for a Confessor, and happily succeeded.  The ceremony he had just been performing had cast a shade over the good Father’s countenance, but it dispersed as he mingled among the guests, and was introduced to them.  Room was soon made for him, and he happened accidentally to be seated opposite the Englishman.  As the wine was presented to him, Father Olavida (who, as I observed, was a man of singular sanctity) prepared to utter a short internal prayer.  He hesitated,—­ trembled,—­desisted; and, putting down the wine, wiped the drops from his forehead with the sleeve of his habit.  Donna Isabella gave a sign to a domestic, and other wine of a higher quality was offered to him.  His lips moved, as if in the effort to pronounce a benediction on it and the company, but the effort again failed; and the change in his countenance was so extraordinary, that it was perceived by all the guests.  He felt the sensation that his extraordinary appearance excited, and attempted to remove it by again endeavoring to lift the cup to his lips.  So strong was the anxiety with which the company watched him, that the only sound