[Illustration: In the name of the Church he would serve these humblepeople. --Book 2, Page 77. ]

CARMEN ARIZA

BY

CHARLES FRANCIS STOCKING, E. M. 

Author of THE DIARY OF JEAN EVARTS, THE MAYOR OF FILBERT, Etc. 

CHICAGO

THE MAESTRO CO. 

1921

Copyright 1915

BY

CHARLES FRANCIS STOCKING

ISSUED JANUARY 1916

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

TWENTY-FIFTH EDITION

PRINTED IN U. S. A. 

CARMEN ARIZA

BOOK 1

 Doth this offend you?--the words that I speak unto you, they are spirit, and they are life. 

 --_Jesus. _

CARMEN ARIZA

CHAPTER 1

The tropical sun mounted the rim of the golden Caribbean, quiveredfor a moment like a fledgeling preening its wings for flight, thenlaunched forth boldly into the vault of heaven, shattering thelowering vapors of night into a myriad fleecy clouds of every formand color, and driving them before it into the abysmal blue above. Leaping the sullen walls of old Cartagena, the morning beams began toglow in roseate hues on the red-tiled roofs of this ancient metropolisof New Granada, and glance in shafts of fire from her glitteringdomes and towers. Swiftly they climbed the moss-grown sides of churchand convent, and glided over the dull white walls of prison andmonastery alike. Pouring through half-turned shutters, they plashedupon floors in floods of gold. Tapping noiselessly on closedportals, they seemed to bid tardy sleepers arise, lest the hurryingmidday _siesta_ overtake them with tasks unfinished. The dormitory ofthe ecclesiastical college, just within the east wall of the city, glowed brilliantly in the clear light which it was reflecting tothe mirror of waters without. Its huge bulk had caught the first raysof the rising sun, most of which had rebounded from its drab, incrusted walls and sped out again over the dancing sea. A few, however, escaped reflection by stealing through the slantingshutters of a window close under the roof of the building. Within, they fell upon a man kneeling on the tiled floor beside a rude cotbed. 

In appearance the man was not more than twenty-five years of age. Hisblack, close-curling hair, oval face, and skin of deep olive tintindicated a Latin origin. His clerical garb proclaimed him a son ofthe Church. The room was a small, whitewashed cell of stone, mustywith the dampness which had swept in from the sea during the night. Itwas furnished with Spartan simplicity. Neither image, crucifix, norpainting adorned its walls--the occupant's dress alone suggested hiscalling. A hanging shelf held a few books, all evidently used astexts in the adjoining college. A table, much littered; a woodendressing stand, with a small mirror; and an old-fashioned, hairclothtrunk, bearing numerous foreign labels, eked out the paucity offurnishings. 

If the man prayed, there was only his reverent attitude to indicateit, for no words escaped his lips. But the frequent straining of histense body, and the fierce clenching of his thin hands, as he threwhis arms out over the unopened bed, were abundant evidence of a soultugging violently at its moorings. His was the attitude of one who hasceased to inveigh against fate, who kneels dumbly before the cup ofDestiny, knowing that it must be drained. 

With the break of day the bells awoke in the church towers throughoutthe old city, and began to peal forth their noisy reminder of thevirility of the Holy Catholic faith. Then the man raised his head, seemingly startled into awareness of his material environment. For afew moments he listened confusedly to the insistent clatter--but hemade no sign of the cross, nor did his head bend with the weight of ahollow _Ave_ on his bloodless lips while the clamoring muezzins filledthe warm, tropical air with their jangling appeal. Rising with an airof weary indifference, he slowly crossed the room and threw wide theshutters of the solitary window, admitting a torrent of sunlight. Ashe did this, the door of the cell softly opened, and a young novitiateentered. 

"With your permission, Padre, " said the boy, bowing low. "His Gracesummons you to the Cathedral. "

The man made a languid gesture of dismissal, and turned from the ladto the rare view which greeted him through the open window. The dustyroad below was beginning to manifest the city's awakening. Barefooted, brown-skinned women, scantily clad in cheap calico gowns, wereswinging along with shallow baskets under their arms to the _plaza_for the day's marketing. Some carried naked babes astride their hips;some smoked long, slender cigars of their own rolling. Half-cladchildren of all ages, mixtures of _mestizo_, Spaniard, and Jamaicannegro, trotted along beside them; and at intervals a blustering_cochero_ rattled around the corner in a rickety, obsolete type oftrap behind a brace of emaciated horses. 

The lively gossip of the passing groups preluded the noisy chafferingto follow their arrival at the market place. 

"_Caramba_, little pig!" shrilled a buxom matron, snatching her nakedoffspring away from a passing vehicle. "Think you I have money towaste on Masses for your naughty soul?"

"_Na, señora_, " bantered another, "it will cost less now than later toget him out of purgatory. "

"But, _comadre_, do you stop at the Cathedral to say a _Pater-noster_?"

"To be sure, _amiga_, and an _Ave_, too. And let us return by way ofthe Hotel España, for, _quien sabe_? we may catch a glimpse of thefamous _matador_. "

"Señor Varilla?"

"Yes. He arrived from Barranquilla last night--so my Pedro tellsme--and will fight in the arena this Sunday. I have saved fifty_pesos_ to see him. _Madre de Dios!_ but I would sell my soul to seehim slay but a single bull. And do you go?"

"God willing!"

The soft air, tempered by the languid ocean breeze, bore aloft thelaughter and friendly bantering of the marketers, mingled with theawakening street sounds and the morning greetings which issued fromopening doors and windows. The scent of roses and the heaviersweetness of orchids and tropical blooms drifted over the ancient cityfrom its innumerable _patios_ and public gardens. The age-incrustedbuildings fused in the mounting sun into squares of dazzling white, over which the tiled roofs flowed in cinctures of crimson. Far off atsea the smoke of an approaching vessel wove fantastic designs againstthe tinted sky. Behind the city the convent of Santa Candelaria, crowning the hill of La Popa, glowed like a diamond; and stretchingfar to the south, and merging at the foot of the _Cordilleras_ intothe gloom-shrouded, menacing jungle, the steaming llanos offeredfleeting glimpses of their rich emerald color as the morning breezestirred the heavy clouds of vapor which hung sullenly above them. 

To all this the man, looking vacantly out across the city walls towhere the sea birds dipped on the rippling waves, was apparentlyoblivious. Nor did he manifest the slightest interest in the animatedscene before him until a tall, heavy-set young priest emerged from theentrance of the dormitory below and stopped for a moment in the middleof the road to bask in the brilliant sunlight and fill his lungs withthe invigorating ocean breeze. Turning his eyes suddenly upward, thelatter caught sight of the man at the window. 

"Ah, _amigo_ Josè!" he called in friendly greeting, his handsome faceaglow with a cordial smile. "Our good Saint Claver has not lobbied forus in vain! We shall yet have a good day for the bulls, no?"

"An excellent one, I think, Wenceslas, " quickly replied the manaddressed, who then turned abruptly away as if he wished to avoidfurther conversation. The priest below regarded the empty window for amoment. Then, with a short, dry laugh and a cynical shrug of his broadshoulders, he passed on. 

As the man above turned back into the room his face, wearing the lookof one far gone in despair, was contorted with passion. Fear, confusion, and undefined soul-longing seemed to move rapidly acrossit, each leaving its momentary impression, and all mingling at timesin a surging flood that swelled the veins of his temples to the pointof rupture. Mechanically he paced his narrow cell, throwing frequentfurtive glances at the closed door, as if he suspected himselfwatched. Often he stopped abruptly, and with head bowed and browsfurrowed, seemed to surrender his soul to the forces with which it waswrestling. Often he clasped his head wildly in his hands and turnedhis beseeching eyes upward, as if he would call upon an invisiblepower above to aid him, yet restrained by the deadening conviction ofexperience that such appeal would meet with no response, and that hemust stand in his own strength, however feeble. 

Hours passed thus. The sun gained the zenith and the streets wereablaze. Belated marketers, with laden baskets atop their heads, werehurrying homeward, hugging the scanty shade of the glaring buildings. Shopkeepers were drawing their shutters and closing their heavy doors, leaving the hot noon hour asleep on the scorching portals. The midday_Angelus_ called from the Cathedral tower. Then, as if shaken intoremembrance of the message which the boy had brought him at daybreak, the man hurriedly took his black felt hat from the table, and withoutfurther preparation left the room. 

The stone pavements and narrow brick walks, above which the intenseheat hung in tremulous waves, were almost deserted as he hastenedtoward the Cathedral. The business of the morning was finished; tradewas suspended until the sun, now dropping its fiery shafts straight asplummets, should have sunk behind La Popa. As he turned into the CalleLozano an elderly woman, descending the winding brick stairway visiblethrough the open door of one of the numerous old colonial houses inthe lower end of this thoroughfare, called timidly to him. 

"Marcelena, " the priest returned, stopping. "The girl--is she--?"

"She is dying, " interrupted the woman in a voice broken with sobs. 

"Dying! Then the child--?"

"Yes, Padre, born an hour ago--a boy. It lives. Ah, _Santa Virgen_, such suffering! Pray for us, Mother of God!" murmured the weepingwoman, bending her head and repeatedly making the sign of the cross. 

"Who is with her now?" the priest continued hurriedly. 

"Only Catalina. The doctor said he would return. He is good to theblessed child. And Padre Lorenzo came--but he would not shrive herlittle white soul--"

"And the father--?"

"He does not know, " the woman sobbed. "Who would dare to tell him!Think you he would come? That he would own the babe? He would not giveone blessed candle to set beside the little mother's poor sweet body!Ah, _Santa Maria_! who will buy Masses for her little soul? Who--?"

"But he _shall_ know!" cried the priest, his face livid. "And he shallacknowledge his child and care for it! _Dios--!_ But wait, Marcelena. I can do nothing now. But I will return. " Leaving the woman sobbingprayers to the Virgin Mother, the priest hurried on. 

Within the Cathedral the cool atmosphere met him with a sweet calm, which flowed over his perturbed soul like a benediction. He drew achair from a pile in a corner and sat down for a moment near one ofthe little side chapels, to recover from the stifling heat without andprepare his thought for the impending interview with the Bishop. A dimtwilight enveloped the interior of the building, affording a gratefulrelief from the blinding glare of the streets. It brought him atransient sense of peace--the peace which his wearied soul had neverfully known. Peace brooded over the great nave, and hovered in thesoft air that drifted slowly through the deserted aisle up to the HighAltar, where lay the Sacred Host. A few votive candles were strugglingto send their feeble glow through the darkness. The great images ofthe suffering Christ, of the Saints and the Virgin Mother had mergedtheir outlines into the heavy shadows which lay upon them. 

The haunting memory of years of soul-struggle with doubt and fear, ofpassionate longing for the light of truth in the gloom of superstitionand man-made creeds, for guidance among the devious paths of humanconjecture which lead nowhither--or to madness--seemed to fade intothe darkness which wrapped him in that holy calm. After all, what hadhe won in his lifelong warfare with human beliefs? What had he gainedby his mad opposition to Holy Church? There she stood, calm, majestic, undisturbed. Had not the Christ himself declared that the gates ofhell should not prevail against her? Was not the unfoldment of truth amatter, not of years, but of ages? And were the minds of men to-dayprepared for higher verities than those she offered? Did not theChurch plant the seed as rapidly as the barren soil of the human mindwas tilled and made fallow? True, her sons, whom he had so obstinatelyopposed, were blindly zealous. But were they wholly without wisdom?Had not his own zeal been as unreasoningly directed to the forcing ofevents? And still, through it all, she had held her indulgent armsextended to him, as to all erring mankind. Why not now, like a tiredchild, weary of futile resistance, yield to her motherly embrace andbe at last at peace? Again the temptation which he had stubbornlyresisted for a lifetime urged upon him with all its mesmericinsistence. 

He looked up, and his glance fell upon a small, glass-covered case, dimly visible in the uncertain light at one side of the little altar. The case was filled with tiny images of gold--_milagros_. Each hadreceived priestly blessing, and each was believed to have worked amiraculous cure. The relaxed lines of the priest's care-worn faceinstantly drew into an expression of hard austerity. Like the ebb ofthe ocean, his recalcitrant thought surged back again in a toweringflood. 

"What a spectacle!" he murmured. "Holy Church, assuming spiritualleadership of the world, sunken in idolatry, and publicly parading herfetishism in these lingering echoes of primitive demon-worship!"

Ah, the Master taught the omnipotence of God, whose ways he declaredas high above the blind grovelings of man as the dome of heaven swingsabove earth. But how long, gentle Master, shall such as this bedeclared thy Father's ways? How long shall superstition and idolatryretain the power to fetter the souls of men? Is there no end to theblack curse of ignorance of Truth, which, after untold centuries, still makes men sink with vain toil and consume with disease? And--arethose who sit about Peter's gorgeous tomb and approve these thingsunerring guides to a right knowledge of God, to know whom, the Christhas said, is life eternal?

A step behind him broke the flow of his dark revery. 

"Our good Josè dreams below, while His Grace bites his nails above, "said a soft, mellifluous voice. "_Qué chiste!_ It is--"

The priest sprang to his feet and faced the speaker. For a moment themen regarded each other, the one uncertain as to the impending event, but supremely confident of his ability to meet it; the other sick insoul and torn with mental struggle, but for the moment fired anew withthe righteous wrath which his recent brief interview with the woman, Marcelena, had kindled. 

"Wenceslas--" The priest spoke in a strained, uncertain tone, strivingto hold his emotions in leash. "I have learned to-day--The girl, Maria--"

"_Caro amigo_, " interrupted Wenceslas smoothly, "what you have learnedto-day, or any other day, of the girl, Maria, is a lie. "

"_Hombre!_" The priest turned livid. Stepping closer to Wenceslas--

"Do you think, inhuman! that I have not long known of your relationswith this girl? Who has not! And, further, I know--and Cartagena shallknow--that to-day she lies dying beside your child!"

Wenceslas recoiled. His face flushed, and the veins of his foreheadswelled with a purple flood. Then a pallor spread over his features, and beads of perspiration started from his pores. 

It was but momentary. Recovering himself, he laid a large hand on thepriest's shoulder, and, his face assuming its wonted smile, said inhis usual low tone, "_Amigo_, it seems that you have a penchant forspreading gossip. Think you I am ignorant of the fact that because ofit Rome spewed you out for a meddlesome pest? Do you deceive yourselfthat Cartagena will open her ears to your garbled reports? The hag, Marcelena, lies! She has long hoped to gain some advantage from me, Ihave told you-- But go now above and learn from His Grace, whom youhave had the impudence to keep waiting all morning, how tongues thatwag too freely can be silenced. " He checked himself suddenly, as if hefeared he had said too much. Then, turning on his heel, he quicklyleft the Cathedral. 

The priest's head sank upon his breast, and he stood, infirm ofpurpose and choking with words which he could not voice. The whirl inwhich his confused brain had revolved for months--nay, years--had madethe determination of conduct with him a matter of hours, of days, ofweeks. Spontaneity of action had long since ceased within his fetteredmind, where doubt had laid its detaining hand upon his judgment. Uncertainty of his steps, fear of their consequence, and dread lest heprecipitate the calamity which he felt hung always just above him, hadsapped the courage and strength of will which his soul needed for adetermined stand, and left him incapable of decisive action, even inthe face of grossest evil. The mordant reply of Wenceslas onlystrengthened his conviction of the futility of massing his own feebleforces against those of one so thoroughly entrenched as this man, whohad the ear of the Bishop--nay, whose resourceful mind was now said tobe actually directing the policies of the feeble old ecclesiastic whoheld the bishopric of Cartagena. 

As if groping through the blackness of midnight, he moved slowly downthe deserted nave of the Cathedral and mounted the winding stairs tothe ambulatory above. Pausing at the door of the _sanctum_ for amoment to gather up his remnant of moral strength, he entered andstood hesitant before the waiting Bishop. 

CHAPTER 2

The long War of Independence which destroyed the last vestige ofSpanish control over the Peruvian colonies of South America wasvirtually brought to a close by the terrific battle of Ayacucho, fought on the plains between Pizarro's city of Lima and the ancientInca seat of Cuzco in the fall of 1824. The result of this battle hadbeen eagerly awaited in the city of Cartagena, capital of the newlyformed federation of Colombia. It was known there that the Royalistarmy was concentrating for a final stand. It was known, too, that itsveterans greatly outnumbered the nondescript band of patriots, many ofwhom were provided only with the _arma blanca_, the indispensable_machete_ of tropical America. This fact lent a shred of encouragementto the few proud Tory families still remaining in the city andclinging forlornly to their broken fortunes, while vainly hoping for areëstablishment of the imperial regimen, as they pinned their fate tothis last desperate conflict. Among these, none had been prouder, nonemore loyal to the Spanish Sovereign, and none more liberal indispensing its great wealth to bolster up a hopeless cause than theancient and aristocratic family at whose head stood Don Ignacio JosèMarquez de Rincón, distinguished member of the _Cabildo_, and mostloyal subject of his imperial majesty, King Ferdinand VII. Of Spain. 

The house of Rincón traced its lineage back to the ferociousadventurer, Juan de Rincón, favorite lieutenant of the renowned_Conquistador_, Pedro de Heredia. When the latter, in the year 1533, obtained from Charles V. The concession of New Andalusia, the wholeterritory comprised between the mouths of the Magdalena and Atratorivers in what is now the Republic of Colombia, and undertook theconquest of this enormously rich district, the fire-eating Juan, whomthe chroniclers of that romantic period quaintly described as "causingthe same effects as lightning and quicksilver, " was his mostdependable support. Together they landed at the Indian village ofCalamari, and, after putting the pacific inhabitants to the sword--amanner of disposal most satisfactory to the practical Juan--laid thefoundations of the present city of Cartagena, later destined to becomethe "Queen of the Indies, " the pride, as it was the despair, of thehaughty monarchs of Spain. 

For his eminent services in this exploit Juan received a large tractof land in the most fertile part of the Magdalena valley--which heimmediately staked and lost at the gaming-table. As a measure ofconsolation, and doubtless with the view of checking Juan's gamblingpropensities, Pedro de Heredia then bestowed upon him a strip of bleakand unexplored mountain country adjacent to the river Atrato. Stung byhis sense of loss, as well as by the taunts of his boisterouscompanions, and harassed by the practical conclusion that life'sbrevity would not permit of wiping out their innumerable insultssingly by the sword, the raging Juan gathered together a fewblood-drinking companions of that ilk and set out to find diversion ofmind on his possessions. 

Years passed. One day Juan again appeared on the streets of Cartagena, and this time with gold enough to buy the city. The discovery of richauriferous sands on his estates adjoining the Atrato, which wereworked extensively for him by the natives whom he and his companionshad forced into subjection, had yielded him enormous wealth. Hesettled in Cartagena, determined to make it his future home, and atonce set about buying great blocks of houses and erecting a palace forhimself. He began to acquire lands and mines in all directions. Heerected a sumptuous summer residence in what is now the suburb ofTurbaco. He built an _arena_, and bred bulls for it from famous stockwhich he imported from the mother-country. He gave _fêtes_ and publicentertainments on the most lavish scale imaginable. In short, hequickly became Cartagena's most influential and distinguished citizen, as he was easily her richest. 

But far more important to mention than all these dry details was theundoubted change of character which had come over the man himself. Perhaps it was the awful heat of the steaming Atrato valley that drewthe fire from his livid soul. Perhaps it was a dawning appreciation ofthe opportunities made possible by his rapid acquisition of wealththat had softened his character. Some said he had seen a vision of theVirgin Mary. Others laid it to a terrible fever, in which for days hehad lain delirious in the shadow of death. Be that as it may, thebloodthirsty _Conquistador_, who a few years before angrily shook thedust of Cartagena from his feet, had now returned a changed man. 

At once Juan began to manifest in an ever increasing degree aninterest in matters religious. In this respect his former charactersuffered a complete reversal. He assiduously cultivated the clergy, and gave large sums for the support of the Cathedral and the religiousorders of the city. The Bishop became a frequent guest at hissumptuous table; and as often he in turn sought the Bishop forconsultation anent his benefactions and, in particular, forconsolation when haunted by sad memories of his devilish exploits inearly life. When the great-hearted Padre Bartolomé de las Casas, infirm but still indefatigable in his work for the protection anduplift of the Indians, arrived one memorable day in his little canoewhich his devoted native servants had paddled through the _dique_ fromthe great river beyond, Juan was the first to greet him and insistthat he make his home with him while in the city. And on the night ofthe Padre's arrival it is said that Juan, with tears streaming downhis scarred and wrinkled face, begged to be allowed to confess to himthe awful atrocities which he had committed upon the innocent andharmless aborigines when, as was his wont, his breath hot with thelust of blood, he had fallen upon them without provocation and hewedthem limb from limb. 

In his old age the now gentle Juan, his former self almost obliterated, expressed a desire to renounce the world, bestow his great wealth uponthe Church, and enter a monastery to pass his remaining years. Despitethe protestations of his numerous family, for whom his religious zealwould permit him to leave but scanty provision, he was alreadyformulating plans toward this end when death overtook him, and his vastestates descended intact to the family which he had founded. 

So complete had been the transformation of Juan de Rincón during themany years that he lived after his return to Cartagena that thecharacteristics which he transmitted to his posterity were, ingeneral, quite the reverse of those which he himself had manifested soabundantly in early life. Whereas, he had formerly been atrociouslycruel, boastingly impious, and a scoffer at matters religious, hislater descendants were generally tender of heart, soft of manner, andof great piety. Whereas, in early manhood he had been fiery andimpulsive, quick of decision and immovable of opinion, his progenywere increasingly inclined to be deliberate in judgment andvacillating of purpose. So many of his descendants entered thepriesthood that the family was threatened with extinction, for in thecourse of time it had become a sacred custom in the Rincón family toconsecrate the first-born son to the Church. This custom at lengthbecame fixed, and was rigidly observed, even to the point of bigotry, despite the obliteration of those branches where there was but asingle son. 

The family, so auspiciously launched, waxed increasingly rich andinfluential; and when the smoldering fires of revolution burst intoflame among the oppressed South American colonies, late in the year1812, the house of Rincón, under royal and papal patronage, was foundoccupying the first position of eminence and prestige in the proud oldcity of Cartagena. Its wealth had become proverbial. Its sons, educated by preceptors brought from Paris and Madrid, were prominentat home and abroad. Its honor was unimpeachable. Its fair name was oneof the most resplendent jewels in the Spanish crown. And Don Ignacioepitomized loyalty to Sovereign and Pope. 

With the inauguration of hostilities no fears were felt by theRincón family for the ultimate success of the royalist arms, andDon Ignacio immediately despatched word to his Sovereign in Madridthat the wealth and services of his house were at the royaldisposal. Of this offer Ferdinand quickly availed himself. The Rincónfunds were drawn upon immediately and without stint to furnish menand muniments for the long and disastrous struggle. Of the familyresources there was no lack while its members held their vastpossessions of lands and mines. But when, after the first successesof the patriots, reprisals began to be visited upon the Tories ofCartagena, and their possessions fell, one after another, into thehands of the successful revolutionists, or were seized by formerslaves, Don Ignacio found it difficult to meet his royal master'sdemands. The fickle King, already childish to the verge of imbecility, gave scant thanks in return for the Rincón loyalty, and when at last, stripped of his fortune, deserted by all but the few Tory familieswho had the courage to remain in Cartagena until the close of thewar, Don Ignacio received with sinking heart the news of the battleof Ayacucho, he knew full well that any future appeal to Ferdinand forrecognition of his great sacrifices would fall upon unhearing ears. 

But to remain in republican Cartagena after the final success of therevolutionists was to the royalist Don Ignacio quite impossible. Evenif permitted the attempt, he was so attached to the ancient order ofthings that he could not adjust himself to the radically changedconditions. So, gathering about him the sorrowing remnant of hisfamily, and converting into a pitifully small sum his few remainingpossessions, he took passage on an English trader and sailed for themother-country, to begin life anew among those whose speech andcustoms were most familiar to him. 

He settled in Seville, where the elder of his two sons, Rafaél deRincón, a lad of fifteen, was studying for the priesthood, under thepatronage of the Archbishop. There he established himself in the winebusiness, associating with him his second son, Carlos, only a year thejunior of his brother. But, broken in spirit as well as in fortune, hemade little headway, and two years later died pitiably in poverty andobscurity. 

Through the influence of the Archbishop, the business, which Carloswas far too young and immature to conduct, was absorbed by largerinterests, and the young lad retained as an employe. As the yearspassed the boy developed sufficient commercial ability to enable himto retain his position and to extract from it enough to provide forthe needs of himself and his dependents. He married, late in life, awoman whose family had fled from Cartagena with his own and settled inSeville. She was but a babe in arms at the time of the exodus, andmany years his junior. A year after the marriage a child was born tothem, a son. The babe's birth was premature, following a fright whichthe mother received when attacked by a beggar. But the child lived. And, according to the honored family custom, which the father insistedon observing as rigidly in Spain as it had been formerly in Cartagena, this son, Josè Francisco Enrique de Rincón, was at birth consecratedto the service of God in the Holy Catholic Church. 

CHAPTER 3

If, as Thoreau said, "God is on the side of the most sensitive, " thenHe should have been very close to the timid, irresolute lad inSeville, in whom the softer traits of character, so unexpectedlydeveloped in the adventurous founder of the Rincón family, now stoodforth so prominently. Somber, moody, and retiring; delicatelysensitive and shrinking; acutely honest, even to the point ofmorbidity; deeply religious and passionately studious, with aconsuming zeal for knowledge, and an unsatisfied yearning for truth, the little Josè early in life presented a strange medley ofcharacteristics, which bespoke a need of the utmost care and wisdom onthe part of those who should have the directing of his career. Forcedinto the world before his time, and strongly marked by his mother'sfear; afflicted with precarious health, and subjected to long anddesperate illnesses in childhood, his little soul early took on agloom and asceticism wholly unnatural to youth. Fear was constantlyinstilled into his acutely receptive mind by his solicitous, dotingparents; and his life was thereby stunted, warped, and starved. He wasreared under the constant reminder of the baleful effects of food, ofair, of conduct, of this and that invisible force inimical to health;and terror and anxiety followed him like a ghost and turned about allhis boyish memories. Under these repressing influences his mind couldnot but develop with a lack of stamina for self-support. Hesitancy andvacillation became pronounced. In time, the weight of any importantdecision gave him acute, unendurable agony of mind. Called upon todecide for himself a matter of import, his thought would becomeconfused, his brain torpid, and in tears and perplexity the tormentedlad would throw himself into the arms of his anxious parents and begto be told what course to pursue. 

Thus his nature grew to depend upon something stronger than itself totwine about. He sought it in his schoolmates; but they misread him. The little acts which were due to his keen sensitiveness or to hisexaggerated reticence of disposition were frequently interpreted bythem as affronts, and he was generally left out of their games, oravoided entirely. His playmates consequently became fewer and moretransient as the years gained upon him, until at length, trodden upon, but unable to turn, he withdrew his love from the world and bestowedit all upon his anxious mother. She became his only intimate, and fromher alone he sought the affection for which he yearned with anintensity that he could not express. Shunning the boisterous, frolicking children at the close of the school day, he would seek her, and, nestling at her side, her hand clasped in his, would beg her totalk to him of the things with which his childish thought wasstruggling. These were many, but they revolved about a commoncenter--religion. 

The salient characteristics already mentioned were associated withothers, equally prominent, and no less influential in the shaping ofhis subsequent career. With the development of his deep, inwardearnestness there had appeared indications of latent powers of mindthat were more than ordinary. These took the form of childishprecocity in his studies, clearness of spiritual vision, andmaturity in his conduct and mode of life. The stunting of hisphysical nature threw into greater prominence his exaggeratedsoul-qualities, his tenderness, his morbid conscientiousness, and aprofound emotionalism which, at the sight of a great painting, orthe roll of the Cathedral organ, would flood his eyes and fill histhroat with sobs. When the reckless founder of the family experienceda reversal of his own dark traits of soul, nearly three centuriesbefore, it was as if the pendulum had swung too far in the oppositedirection, and at the extreme point of its arc had left the littleJosè, with the sterner qualities of the old _Conquistador_ whollyneutralized by self-condemnation, fear, infirmity of purpose, a highdegree of intellectuality, and a soul-permeating religious fervor. 

At the mention of religion the timid lad at once became passionate, engrossed--nay, obsessed. In his boyhood years, before the pall ofsomber reticence had settled over him, he had been impressed with themajesty of the Church and the gorgeousness of her material fabric. Thereligious ideals taught him by his good mother took deep root. But theday arrived when the expansion of his intellect reached such a pointas to enable him to detect a flaw in her reasoning. It was but alittle rift, yet the sharp edge of doubt slipped in. Alas! from thathour he ceased to drift with the current of popular theologicalbelief; his frail bark turned, and launched out upon the storm-tossedsea, where only the outstretched hand of the Master, treading theheaving billows through the thick gloom, saved it at length fromdestruction. 

The hungry lad began to question his parents incessantly regarding thethings of the spirit. His teachers in the parochial school he pliedwith queries which they could not meet. Day after day, while otherboys of his tender age romped in the street, he would steal into thegreat Cathedral and stand, pathetically solitary, before the statuesof the Christ and the Virgin Mary, yearning over the problems withwhich his childish thought was struggling, and the questions to whichno one could return satisfying replies. 

Here again the boy seemed to manifest in exaggerated form the reversedcharacteristics of the old _Conquistador_. But, unlike that of thepious Juan, the mind of the little Josè was not so simple as to permitit to accept without remonstrance the tenets of his family's faith. Blind acceptance of any teaching, religious or secular, early becamequite impossible to him. This entailed many an hour of suffering tothe lad, and brought down upon his little head severe punishments fromhis preceptors and parents. But in vain they admonished andthreatened. The child demanded proofs; and if proofs were not at hand, his acceptance of the mooted teaching was but tentative, generallyonly an outward yielding to his beloved mother's inexorableinsistence. Many the test papers he returned to his teachers whereonhe had written in answer to the questions set, "I am taught to replythus; but in my heart I do not believe it. " Vainly the teachersappealed to his parents. Futilely the latter pleaded and punished. Theplacid receptiveness of the Rincón mind, which for more than threehundred years had normally performed its absorptive functions andimbibed the doctrines of its accepted and established humanauthorities, without a trace of the heresy of suspecting theirgenuineness, had at last experienced a reversal. True, the boy hadbeen born in the early hours of nineteenth century doubt and religiousskepticism. The so-called scientific spirit, buried for ages beneaththe _débris_ of human conjecture, was painfully emerging and preeningits wings for flight. The "higher criticism" was nascent, and ancienttraditions were already beginning to totter on the foundations whichthe Fathers had set. But Spain, close wrapped in mediaeval dreams, hadsuffered no taint of "modernism. " The portals of her mind were wellguarded against the entrance of radical thought, and her dreamers wereyet lulled into lethargic adherence to outworn beliefs and mustycreeds by the mesmerism of priestly tradition. The peculiar cast ofmind of the boy Josè was not the product of influences from without, but was rather an exemplification of the human mind's reversion totype, wherein the narrow and bigoted mentality of many generations hadexpanded once more into the breadth of scope and untrammeled freedomof an ancient progenitor. 

As the boy grew older his ability to absorb learning increasedastonishingly. His power of analysis, his keen perception andretentive memory soon advanced him beyond the youths of his own age, and forced him to seek outside the pale of the schoolroom for themeans to satisfy his hunger for knowledge. He early began to haunt thebookstalls of Seville, and day after day would stand for hourssearching the treasures which he found there, and mulling over bookswhich all too frequently were _anathema_ to the orthodox. Often theowner of one of these shops, who knew the lad's parents, and whoseinterest had been stirred by his passion for reading, would let himtake one or more of the coveted volumes home over night, for theslender family purse would not permit him to purchase what his heartcraved. Then came feasts for his famished little soul which oftenlasted until daybreak. 

It happened one evening that, when he crept off to his little room topeer into one of these borrowed treasures, his father followed him. Pushing the chamber door softly open the parent found the boy proppedagainst his pillow in bed, absorbed in a much-thumbed volume which hewas reading by the pale light of the single candle. 

"Is it thus that you deceive your poor parents?" the fond fatherbegan, in a tone of mock severity. 

The startled lad stifled a cry and hastily thrust the book beneath hispillow. The father's interest now became genuine. Leaning over theterrified boy he drew forth the volume. 

"Voltaire!"

The doting father stood petrified. Voltaire, _Antichrist_, Archfiendof impiety--and in the hands of his beloved son!

Sleep fled the little household that night. In his father's arms, while the distressed mother hung over them, the boy sobbed out hisconfession. He had not intended to deceive. He had picked up this bookin the stall without knowing its nature. He had become so interestedin what it said about the Virgin Mary that he forgot all else. Theshopkeeper had found him reading it, and had laughed and winked at hisclerk when he bade the boy take it home for the night. The book hadfascinated him. He himself--did not his father know?--had so oftenasked how the Virgin could be the mother of God, and why men prayed toher. Yes, he knew it mocked their faith--and the sacred Scriptures. Heknew, too, that his father would not approve of it. That was why hehad tried to hide it beneath his pillow. He had been wicked, desperately wicked, to deceive his dear parents--But the book--It madehim forget--It said so many things that seemed to be true--And--and--

"Oh, _padre mío_, forgive me, forgive me! I want to know the truthabout God and the world!" The delicate frame of the young lad shook inparoxysms of grief. 

Alas! it was but the anguished soul-cry which has echoed through thehalls of space since time began. What a mockery to meet it with emptycreed and human dogma! Alas! what a crime against innocence to stiflethe honest questionings of a budding mind with the musty cloak ofundemonstrable beliefs. 

"But, my son, have I not often told you? The Holy Church gives us thetruth, " replied the father, frightened by the storm which raged withinthe childish soul, yet more alarmed at the turn which the mind of hischerished son was apparently taking--his only son, dedicated to theservice of God from the cradle, and in whom the shattered hopes ofthis once proud family were now centered. 

"But this book laughs at us because we pray to a woman!" sobbed theboy. 

"True. But does not its author need the prayers of so pure a woman asthe Virgin? Do we not all need them? And is it not likely that one sogood as she would have great influence with God--much greater than weourselves, or even the best of men, could have?"

"But how can she be the mother of God? The Bible does not teachthat!"

"How do you know that the Bible does not teach it, my son?"

"I--I--have read--the Bible, " faltered the lad. 

"You have read the Bible!" cried the astonished father. "And wherehave you done that, you wicked boy?"

"At the bookstore of Mariano, " confessed the trembling child. 

"_Madre de Dios!_" burst from the father, as he started to his feet. "Mariano is a wicked infidel! The Bishop shall hear of this! Ah, wellmay the Holy Father in Rome grieve to see his innocent babes ledastray by these servants of hell! But, my son, " returning to the boyand clasping him again in his arms, "it is not too late. The VirginMother has protected you. You meant no harm. Satan covets your purelittle soul--But he shall not have it!" The father's tremulous voicemounted high, "No, by the Saints in heaven, he shall not have it!"

The boy's assurance slowly returned under the influence of hisfather's tender solicitude, even though he remained dimly conscious ofthe rift widening little by little between his parents' settledconvictions and his own groping thought. With the assuaging of hisgrief came again those insistent questions which throughout his lifehad tormented his peace and driven him even to the doors of infidelsin search of truth. 

"Father, " he began timidly, "why was I wicked to read the Bible?"

"Because, my son, in doing so you yielded to the temptations of Satan. The Bible is a great and mysterious book, written by God himself. Hemeant it to be explained to us by the Holy Father, who is the head ofthe Church which the good Saint Peter founded. We are not great enoughnor good enough to understand it. The Holy Father, who cares for God'sChurch on earth, he is good enough, and he alone can interpret it tous. Satan tries to do with all men just what he did with you, mychild. He seeks to make them read the Bible so that he can confusethem and rob them of their faith. Then when he gets possession oftheir souls he drags them down with him to hell, where they are lostforever. "

"And does the Holy Father really believe that Mary is the mother ofGod?" persisted the boy, raising his tear-stained face. 

"Yes--is she not? The blessed Saviour said that he and God were one. And, as Mary is the mother of Christ, she is also the mother ofGod--is she not? Let us read what the good Saint John Chrysostomsays. " He rose and went into another room, returning in a few minuteswith a little volume. Taking the boy again on his knee, he continued, "The blessed Saint tells us that the Virgin Mary was made the motherof God in order that she might obtain salvation for many who, onaccount of their wicked lives, could not be saved, because they had sooffended divine justice, but yet, by the help of her sweet mercy andmighty intercession, might be cleansed and rendered fit for heaven. Mylittle son, you have always been taught that Mary is heaven's Queen. And so she is ours, and reigns in heaven for us. Jesus loves to haveher close to him, and he can never refuse her requests. He alwaysgrants what she asks. And that is the reason why we pray to her. Shenever forgets us--never!"

A troubled look crossed the boy's face. Then he began anew. "Fatherdear, God made everything, did He not? The Bible says that, anyway. "

"Yes, child. "

"Did He make Satan?"

The father hesitated. The child hurried on under the lash of his holyinquisitiveness. "Father, how did evil come into the world? Is Godboth good and bad? And how can a good God punish us forever for sinscommitted here in only a few short years?"

"Ah, _queridito_!" cried the harassed father. "Such questions shouldnot have entered your little head for years to come! Why can you notrun and play as do other children? Why are you not happy as they are?Why must you spend your days thinking of things that are far too deepfor you? Can you not wait? Some day you shall know all. Some day, whenyou have entered the service of God, perhaps you may even learn thesethings from the Holy Father himself. Then you will understand how thegood God lets evil tempt us in order that our faith in Him may beexercised and grow strong--"

"And He lets Satan harm us purposely?" The boy's innocent dark eyeslooked up appealingly into his father's face. 

"It is only for a short time, little son. And only those who are neverfit for heaven go down with Satan. But you are not one of those, " hehastily added, straining the boy to him. "And the Masses which thegood priests say for us will lift us out of purgatory and into heaven, where the streets are pure gold and the gates are pearl. And there wewill all live together for--"

"Father, " interrupted the boy, "I have thought of these things for along, long time. I do not believe them. And I do not wish to become apriest. "

The father fell silent. It was one of those tense moments which everyman experiences when he sees a withering frost slowly gathering overthe fondest hopes of a lifetime. The family of Rincón, aristocratic, intensely loyal to Church and State, had willingly laid itself uponthe sacrificial altar in deference to its honored traditions. Customhad become law. Obedience of son to parent and parent to Sovereign, spiritual or temporal, had been the guiding star of the family'sdestinies. To think was lawful; but to hold opinions at variance withtradition was unspeakable heresy. Spontaneity of action wascommendable; but conduct not prescribed by King or Pope wasunpardonable crime. Loss of fortune, of worldly power and prestige, were as nothing; deviation from the narrow path trodden by theillustrious scions of the great Juan was everything. That this lad, towhom had descended the undying memories of a long line of gloriousdefenders of kingly and papal power, should presume to shatter thesacred Rincón traditions, was unbelievable. It was none other than thework of Satan. The boy had fallen an innocent victim to the devil'swiles. 

But the house of Rincón had withstood the assaults of the son ofperdition for more than three centuries. It would not yield now! Theall-powerful Church of Rome stood behind it--and the gates of hellcould not prevail against her! The Church would save her own. Yes, thefather silently argued, through his brother's influence the caseshould be laid before His Eminence, the Archbishop. And, if need be, the Holy Father himself should be called upon to cast the devil out ofthis tormented child. To argue with the boy now were futile, evendangerous. The lad had grown up with full knowledge of his parents'fond hopes for his future. He had never openly opposed them, althoughat times the worried mother would voice her fears to the father whenher little son brought his perplexing questions to her and failed tofind satisfaction. But until this night the father had felt no alarm. Indeed, he had looked upon the child's inquisitiveness as but alogical consequence of his precocity and unusual mental powers, inwhich he himself felt a father's swelling pride. To his thought itaugured rapid promotion in the Church; it meant in time a Cardinal'shat. Ah, what glorious possibilities! How the prestige of the nowsunken family would soar! Happily he had been aroused to anappreciation of the boy's really desperate state in time. The caseshould go before the Archbishop to-morrow, and the Church should hearhis call to hasten to the rescue of this wandering lamb. 

CHAPTER 4

Seville is called the heart of Spain. In a deeper sense it is hersoul. Within it, extremes touch, but only to blend into a harmoniousunit which manifests the Spanish temperament and character more trulythere than in any other part of the world. In its Andalusianatmosphere the religious instinct of the Spaniard reaches its fullestembodiment. True, its bull-fights are gory spectacles; but they arealso gorgeous and solemn ceremonies. Its _ferias_ are tremendouslyworldly; but they are none the less stupendous religious _fêtes_. Itspicturesque Easter processions, when colossal images of the Virgin arecarried among bareheaded and kneeling crowds, smack of paganism; butwe cannot question the genuineness of the religious fervor thusdisplayed. Its Cathedral touches the _arena_; and its Archbishopwashes the feet of its old men. Its religion is still the living forcewhich unites and levels, exalts and debases. And its religion isRome. 

On the fragrant spring morning following the discovery of theexecrated Voltaire, the little Josè, tightly clutching his father'shand, threaded the narrow Sierpes and crossed the Prado de SanSebastian, once the _Quemador_, where the Holy Inquisition was wont topurge heresy from human souls with fire. The father shuddered, and hisstern face grew dark, as he thought of the revolting scenes onceenacted in that place in the name of Christ; and he inwardly voiced aprayer of gratitude that the Holy Office had ceased to exist. Yet heknew that, had he lived in that day, he would have handed his belovedson over to that awful institution without demurral, rather than seehim develop those heretical views which were already rising from thesoil of his fertile, inquisitive mind. 

The tinkling of a bell sounded down the street. Father and son quicklydoffed their hats and knelt on the pavement, while a priest, mountedon a mule, rode swiftly past on his way to the bedside of a dyingcommunicant, the flickering lights and jingling bell announcing thefact that he bore with him the Sacred Host. 

"Please God, you will do the same some day, my son, " murmured thefather. But the little Josè kept his eyes to the pavement, and wouldmake no reply. 

Meanwhile, at a splendidly carved table in the library of his palatialresidence, surrounded by every luxury that wealth and ecclesiasticalinfluence could command, the Archbishop, pious shepherd of a restlessflock, sat with clouded brow and heavy heart. The festive ceremonialsof Easter were at hand, and the Church was again preparing to displayher chief splendors. But on the preceding Easter disturbances hadinterrupted the processions of the Virgin; and already rumors hadreached the ears of the Archbishop of further trouble to be incitedduring the approaching Holy Week by the growing body of skeptics andanticlericals. To what extent these liberals had assumed theproportions of a propaganda, and how active they would now showthemselves, were questions causing the holy man deep concern. Heavysighs escaped him as he voiced his fears to his sympathetic secretaryand associate, Rafaél de Rincón, the gaunt, ascetic uncle of thelittle Josè. 

"Alas!" he murmured gloomily. "Since the day that our Isabella yieldedto her heretic ministers and thrust aside the good Sister Patrocinio, Spain has been in a perilous state. After that unholy act thedethronement and exile of the Queen were inevitable. "

"True, Your Eminence, " replied the secretary. "But is there no causefor hope in the elevation of her son, Alfonso, to the throne?"

"He is but seventeen--and absent from Spain six years. He lacks theforce of his talented mother. And there is no longer a SisterPatrocinio to command the royal ear. "

"Unfortunate, I admit, Your Eminence. She bore the _stigmata_, thevery marks of our Saviour's wounds, imprinted on her flesh, and workedhis miracles. But, in Alfonso--"

"No, no, " interrupted the Archbishop impatiently; "he has styledhimself the first Republican in Europe. He will make Catholicism thestate religion; but he will extend religious toleration to all. He isconsumptive in mind as well as in body. And the army--alas! what maywe look for from it when soldiers like this Polo Hernandez refuse tokneel during the Mass?"

"The man has been arrested, Your Eminence, " the secretary offered inconsolation. 

"But the court-martial acquitted him!"

"True. Yet he has now been summoned before the supreme court inMadrid. "

The Archbishop's face brightened somewhat. "And the result--what thinkyou?"

The secretary shrugged his drooping shoulders. "They will condemnhim. "

Yes, doubtless he would be condemned, for mediaevalism dies hard inSpain. But the incident was portentous, and the Archbishop and hiskeen secretary heard in it an ominous echo. 

A servant appeared at the heavy portieres, and at a sign from thesecretary ushered Josè and his father into the august presenceawaiting them. 

An hour later the pair emerged from the palace and started homeward. His Eminence, rousing himself from the profound revery in which he hadbeen sunk for some moments, turned to his expectant secretary. 

"A Luther in embryo!" he ejaculated. 

"I feared as much, Your Eminence, " returned the austere secretary. 

"And yet, a remarkable intellect! Astonishing mental power! But alltainted with the damnable so-called scientific spirit!"

"True, Your Eminence. "

"But marked you not his deep reverence for God? And his sturdyhonesty? And how, despite his embarrassment, the religious zeal of hissoul shown forth?"

"He is morbidly honest, Your Grace. "

"A trait I wish we might employ to our own advantage, " mused thechurchman. Then, continuing, "He is learned far beyond his years. Indeed, his questions put me to some stress--but only for thedifficulty of framing replies intelligible to a mind so immature, " headded hastily. "Either he feared my presence, or he is naturallyshrinking. "

"He is so by nature, Your Eminence. "

The Archbishop reflected. "Naïve--pure--simple--mature, yet childish. Have we covered the ground?"

"Not fully, Your Eminence. We omitted to mention his absorbing filialdevotion. "

"True. And that, you tell me, is most pronounced. "

"It is his strongest characteristic, Your Eminence. He has no will tooppose it. "

"Would that his devotion were for Holy Church!" sighed the Archbishop. 

"I think it may be so directed, Your Eminence, " quickly returned thesecretary. 

"But--would he ever consent to enter the priesthood? And once in, would he not prove a most dangerous element?"

The secretary made a deprecating gesture. "If I may suggest, such aman as he promises to become is far more dangerous outside of theChurch than within, Your Eminence. "

The Archbishop studied the man's face for a few moments. "There istruth in your words, my friend. Yet how, think you, may he besecured?"

"Your Eminence, " replied the secretary warmly, "pardon thesesuggestions in matters where you are far better fitted to pass soundjudgment than a humble servant of the Church like myself. But in thiscase intimacy with my brother's family affords me data which may beserviceable in bringing this matter to a conclusion. If I may bepermitted--"

The Archbishop nodded an unctuous and patronizing appreciation of hiselderly secretary's position, and the latter continued--

"Your Eminence, Holy Week is approaching, and we are beset with fearslest the spirit of heresy which, alas! is abroad in our fair city, shall manifest itself in such disturbances as may force us to abandonthese religious exercises in future. I need not point out the seriousnature of these demonstrations. Nor need I suggest that their relativeunimportance last year was due solely to lack of strong leadership. Already our soldiers begin to refuse to kneel during the Mass. TheHoly Church is not yet called upon to display her weapons. But whoshall say to what measures she may not be forced when an able andfearless leader shall arise among the heretics? To-day there has stoodbefore Your Eminence a lad possessing, in my opinion, the latentqualifications for such leadership. I say, latent. I use the termadvisedly, for I know that he appears to manifest the Rincón lack ofdecision. But so did I at his age. And who can say when the unfoldingof his other powers, now so markedly indicated, may not force thedevelopment of those certain traits of character in which he now seemsdeficient, but which, developed, would make him a power in the world?Shall the Church permit this promising lad to stray from her, possiblylater to join issue with her enemies and use his great gifts topropagate heresy and assault her foundations? Are we faithful to ourbeloved Mother if we do not employ every means, foul or fair, todestroy her enemies, even in the cradle? Remember, 'He who gains theyouth, possesses the future, ' as the saying goes. "

"Loyally spoken, faithful son, " replied the Archbishop, shifting intoa more comfortable position. "And you suggest--?"

"This: that we wisely avail ourselves of his salient characteristics--hisweaknesses, if you wish--and secure him now to the Church. "

"And, more specifically--?" with increasing animation. 

"Your Eminence is already aware of the custom in our family ofconsecrating the first-born son to the service of God. This boy hasbeen so consecrated from birth. It is the dearest hope of his parents. At present their wishes are still his law. Their judgments yetformulate his conduct. His sense of honor is acute. Your Eminence cansee that his word is sacred. His oath once taken would bind himeternally. _It is for us to secure that oath!_"

"And how?" The Archbishop leaned forward eagerly. 

"We, coöperating with his parents, will cater to his consuming passionfor learning, and offer him the education which the limited resourcesof his family cannot provide. We save him from the drudgery ofcommercialism, and open to him the life of the scholar. We suggest tohim a career consecrated to study and holy service. The Churcheducates him--he serves his fellow-men through her. Once ordained, hischaracter is such, I believe, that he could never become an apostate. And, whatever his services to Holy Church may be thereafter, she atleast will have effectually disposed of a possible opponent. She hasall to gain, and nothing to lose by such procedure. Unless I greatlymistake the Rincón character, the lad will yield to our inducementsand his mother's prayers, the charm of the Church and the bias of hertutelage, and ultimately take the oath of ordination. After that--"

"My faithful adviser, " interrupted the Archbishop genially, as visionsof the Cardinal's hat for eminent services hovered before him, "writeimmediately to Monsignor, Rector of the _Seminario_, in Rome. Say thathe must at once receive, at our expense and on our recommendation, alad of twelve, who greatly desires to be trained for the priesthood. "

CHAPTER 5

Thus did the Church open her arms to receive her wandering child. Thusdid her infallible wisdom, as expressed through her zealous agents inSeville, essay to solve the perplexing problems of this agitatedlittle mind, and whisper to its confused throbbing, "Peace, be still. "The final disposition came to the boy not without some measure ofrelief, despite, his protest. The long days of argument and pleading, of assurance that within the Church he should find abundant andsatisfactory answers to his questions, and of explanations which hewas adjured to receive on faith until such time as he might be able toprove their soundness, had utterly exhausted his sensitive littlesoul, and left him without the combative energy or will for furtherremonstrance. 

Nor was the conflict solely a matching of his convictions againstthe desires of his parents and the persuasions of the Archbishop andhis loyal secretary. The boy's hunger for learning alone might havecaused him to yield to the lure of a broad education. Moreover, hisnature contained not one element of commercialism. The impossibilityof entering the wine business with his father, or of spending his lifein physical toil for a bare maintenance, was as patent to himself, even at that early age, as to his parents. His bent was whollyintellectual. But he knew that his father could not afford him aneducation. Yet this the Church now offered freely. Again, his naturewas essentially religious. The Church now extended all her learning, all her vast resources, all her spiritual power, to develop and fosterthis instinct. Nay, more, to protect and guide its development intoright channels. 

The fact, too, that the little Josè was a child of extreme emotionsmust not be overlooked in an estimate of the influences which boreupon him during these trying days. His devotion to an object uponwhich he had set his affections amounted to obsession. He adored hisparents--reverenced his father--worshiped his mother. The latter hewas wont to compare to the flowers, to the bright-plumed birds, to thebutterflies that hovered in the sunlight of their little _patio_. Heindited childish poems to her, and likened her in purity and beauty tothe angels and the Virgin Mary. Her slightest wish was his inflexiblelaw. Not that he was never guilty of childish faults of conduct, oflittle whims of stubbornness and petulance; but his character restedon a foundation of honesty, sincerity, and filial love that was nevershaken by the summer storms of naughtiness which at times made theirlittle disturbances above. 

The parents breathed a sigh of relief when the tired child at lastbowed to their wishes and accepted the destiny thrust upon him. Thecoming of a son to these loyal royalists and zealous Catholics hadmeant the imposition of a sacred trust. That he was called to highservice in the Church of God was evidenced by Satan's early andmalicious attacks upon him. There was but one course for them topursue, and they did not for a moment question its soundness. To theirthought, this precocious child lacked the wisdom and balance whichcomes only with years. The infallible Church, their all-wise spiritualguide, supported their contentions. What they did was for her and forthe eternal welfare of the boy. Likewise, for the maintenance offamily pride and honor in a generation tainted with liberalism anddistrust of the sacred traditions. 

The Church, on the other hand, in the august person of the Archbishop, had accomplished a triumph. She had recognized the child's unusualgifts of mind, and had been alert to the dangers they threatened. Ifsecured to herself, and their development carefully directed, theywould mold him into her future champion. If, despite her carefulweeding and pruning, they expanded beyond the limits which she set, _they should be stifled_! The peculiar and complex nature of the childoffered her a tremendous advantage. For, if reactionary, his ownhighly developed sense of honor, together with his filial devotion andhis intense family pride, should of themselves be forced to choke allactivity in the direction of apostasy and liberalism. Heaven knew, theChurch could not afford to neglect any action which promised to securefor her a loyal son; or, failing that, at least effectually check inits incipiency the development of a threatened opponent! Truly, as theastute secretary had said, this boy might prove troublesome within thefold; but he might also prove more dangerous without. Verily, it wasa triumph for the cause of righteousness! And after the finaldisposition, the good Archbishop had sat far into the night in thecomfort of his _sanctum_, drowsing over his pleasant meditations onthe rewards which his unflagging devotion to the cause of Holy Churchwas sure some day to bring. 

Time sped. The fragrant Sevillian spring melted into summer, andsummer merged with fall. The Rincón family was adjusting itself to theturn in the career of its heir, the guardian and depository of itsrevived hopes. During the weeks which intervened between his firstinterview with the Archbishop and his final departure for Rome, Josèhad been carefully prepared by his uncle, who spared no effort tostimulate in the boy a proper appreciation of his high calling. He wastaught that as a priest of the Holy Catholic Church he would become arepresentative of the blessed Christ among men. His mission would beto carry on the Saviour's work for the salvation of souls, and, withthe power of Christ and in His name, to instruct mankind in truebeliefs and righteous conduct. He would forgive sins, imposepenalties, and offer sacrificial atonement in the body of theSaviour--in a word, he was to become _sacerdos alter Christus_, another Christ. His training for this exalted work would cover aperiod of six or eight years, perhaps longer, and would fit him tobecome a power among men, a conserver of the sacred faith, and anensample of the highest morality. 

"Ah, _sobrinito_, " the sharp-visaged, gray-haired uncle had said, "truly a fortunate boy are you to hear this grandest of opportunitiesknocking at your door! A priest--a God! Nay, even more than God, foras priest God gives you power over Himself!"

The boy's wondering eyes widened, and a look of mingled confusion andastonishment came into his wan face. "I do not see, _tío mío_--I donot see, " he murmured. 

"But you shall, you shall! And you shall understand the awfulresponsibility which God thus reposes upon you, when He gives youpower to do greater things than He did when He created the world. Youshall command the Christ, and He shall come down at your bidding. Ah, _chiquito_, a fortunate boy!" But the lad turned wearily away, withoutsharing his uncle's enthusiasm. 

The day before his departure Josè was again conducted before theArchbishop, and after listening to a lengthy résumé of what the Churchwas about to do for him, and what she expected in return, two solemnvows were exacted from him--

"First, " announced the uncle, in low, deliberate tones, "you willsolemnly promise your mother and your God that, daily praying to bedelivered from the baneful influences which now cause doubt andquestioning in your mind, and refraining from voicing them to yourteachers or fellow-students, you will strive to accept all that istaught you in Rome, deferring every endeavor to prove the teachingsyou are to receive until the end of your long course, when, bytraining and discipline, you shall have so developed in goodness, purity, and power, that you shall be found worthy to receive spiritualconfirmation of the great tenets upon which the Holy Roman CatholicChurch has been founded and reared. "

He paused for a moment to catch his breath and let his portentouswords sink into the quivering brain of the lad before him. Then heresumed--

"Second, keeping ever in mind your debt of gratitude to the Church, you promise faithfully to finish your course, and at the end offeryourself to the service of God in the holy priesthood. "

The solemn hush that lay over the room when he finished was brokenonly by the muffled sobs of the mother. 

Tender in years, plunged into grief at the impending separation fromhome and all that he held dear, the boy knelt before the secretary andgave his trembling word to observe these obligations. Then, after hehad kissed the Bible and the Archbishop's extended hand, he threwhimself upon the floor in a torrent of tears. 

On the following morning, a bright, sparkling November day, the littleJosè, spent with emotion, tore himself from his mother's clingingembrace and set out for Rome, accompanied by his solicitous uncle. 

"And, _queridito_, " were the mother's last words, "I have your promisethat never will you voluntarily leave the Church?"

The appeal which his beseeching look carried back to her was notgranted. He slowly bowed his acquiescence, and turned away. A weeklater he had entered upon the retreat with which the school year opensin the _Seminario_. 

CHAPTER 6

Rome, like a fallen gladiator, spent and prostrate on the Albanhills, still awaits the issue of the conflict between the forces oflife and death within. Dead, where the blight of pagan and mediaevalsuperstition has eaten into the quivering tissues; it lives wherethe pulsing current of modernism expands its shrunken arteries andbears the nourishing truth. Though eternal in tradition andcolossal in material achievement, the glory of the Imperial Citynevertheless rests on a foundation of perishable human ambitions, creeds, and beliefs, manifested outwardly for a time in brilliantdeeds, great edifices, and comprehensive codes, but always bearingwithin themselves the seeds of their own decay. No trophy brought toher gates in triumph by the Caesars ever approached in worth thesimple truth with which Paul of Tarsus, chained to his jailer, illumined his gloomy dungeon. Had the religious principles which heand his devoted associates labored so unselfishly to impart to abenighted world for its own good been recognized by Rome as the"pearl without price, " she would have built upon them as foundationstones a truer glory, and one which would have drawn the nations ofthe earth to worship within her walls. But Rome, in her master, Constantine, saw only the lure of a temporal advantage to be gainedby fettering the totally misunderstood teachings of Jesus with theshackles of organized politics. From this unhallowed marriage ofreligion and statecraft was born that institution unlike eitherparent, yet exhibiting modified characteristics of each, the HolyChurch. To this institution, now mighty in material riches andpower, but still mediaeval in character, despite the assaults ofcenturies of progress, a combination of political maneuver, bigotry, and weakness committed the young Josè, tender, sensitive, receptive, and pure, to be trained as an agent to further its world-embracingpolicies. 

The retreat upon which the boy at once entered on his arrival atthe seminary extended over ten days. During this time there wereperiods of solitary meditation--hours when his lonely heart cried outin anguish for his beloved mother--visits to the blessed sacrament, recitations of the office, and consultations with his spiritualadvisers, at which times his promises to his parents and theArchbishop, coupled with his natural reticence and the embarrassmentoccasioned by his strange environment, sealed his lips and preventedthe voicing of his honest questions and doubts. It was soughtthrough this retreat to so bring the lad under the influence of thegreat religious teachings as to most deeply impress his heart andmind with the importance of the seminary training upon which he hadentered. His day began with the dreaded meditation at five in themorning, followed by hearing the Mass and receiving Communion. Itclosed, after study and class work, with another visit to the blessedsacrament, recital of the Rosary, spiritual reading, and prayer. OnSundays he assisted at solemn High Mass in the church of the_Seminario Pio_. One day a week was a holiday; but only in thesense that it was devoted to visiting hospitals and charitableinstitutions, in order to acquire practical experience and aforetaste of his future work among the sick and needy. Clad in hislittle violet cassock, low-crowned, three-cornered hat, and_soprana_, he might be seen on these holidays trotting along withhis fellow-students in the wake of their superior, his browgenerally contracted, and his childish face seldom lighted by a happysmile. 

The first year passed without special incident. The boy, filled withthat quenchless ambition to know, which characterizes the finestminds, entered eagerly upon his studies and faithfully observed hispromises. If his tender soul warped and his fresh, receptive mindshriveled under the religious tutelage he received, no one but himselfknew it, not even his fond mother, as she clasped him again in herarms when he returned home for the first summer vacation. With thesecond year there began studies of absorbing interest to the boy, andthe youthful mind fed hungrily. This seemed to have the effect ofexpanding somewhat his self-contained little soul. He appeared to growout of himself to a certain extent, to become less timid, lessreticent, even more sociable; and when he returned to Seville again atthe close of the year he had apparently lost much of the somberness ofdisposition which had previously characterized him. The Archbishopexamined him closely; but the boy, speaking little, gave no hint ofthe inner working of his thought; and if his soul seethed andfermented within, the Rincón pride and honor covered it with a placiddemeanor and a bearing of outward calm. When the interview ended andthe lad had departed, the Archbishop descended to the indignity ofroundly slapping his ascetic secretary on his emaciated back, as anindication of triumphant joy. The boy certainly was being charmed intodeep devotion to the Church! He was fast being bound to her altars!Again the glorious spectacle of the Church triumphant in molding awavering youth into a devoted son!

Four years passed thus, almost in silence on the boy's part. Yet hischaracter suffered little change. At home he strove to avoid allmention of the career upon which he was entering, although he gaveslight indication of dissatisfaction with it. He was punctilious inhis attendance upon religious services; but to have been otherwisewould have brought sorrow to his proud, happy parents. His days werespent in complete absorption in his books, or in writing in hisjournal. The latter he had begun shortly before entering the seminary, and it was destined to exert a profound influence upon his life. Oftenhis parents would playfully urge him to read to them from it; but theboy, devotedly obedient and filial in every other respect steadfastlybegged permission to refuse these requests. In that little whim thefond parents humored him, and he was left largely alone to his booksand his meditations. 

During Josè's fourth summer vacation a heavy sorrow suddenly fell uponhim and plunged him into such an excess of grief that it was fearedhis mind would give way. His revered father, advanced in years, andweakened by overwork and business worries, succumbed to the malaria soprevalent in Seville during the hot months and passed away, after abrief illness. The blow descended with terrific force upon themorbidly disposed lad. It was his first intimate experience withdeath. For days after the solemn events of the mourning and funeral hesat as one stunned, holding his mother's hand and staring dumbly intospace; or for hours paced to and fro in the little _patio_, his facerigidly set and his eyes fixed vacantly on the ground beneath. Thework of four years in opening his mind, in expanding his thought, indrawing him out of his habitual reticence and developing within himthe sense of companionship and easy tolerance, was at one strokerendered null. Brought face to face with the grim destroyer, all thedoubt and confusion of former years broke the bounds which had heldthem in abeyance and returned upon him with increased insistence. Never before had he felt so keenly the impotence of mortal man and thefutility of worldly strivings. Never had he seen so clearly the fataldefects in the accepted interpretation of Christ's mission on earth. His earlier questionings returned in violent protests against theemptiness of the beliefs and formalities of the Church. In times pasthe had voiced vague and dimly outlined perceptions of her spiritualneeds. But now to him these needs had suddenly taken definite form. Jesus had healed the sick of all manner of disease. He himself wasbeing trained to represent the Christ on earth. Would he, too, betaught to heal the sick as the Master had done? The blessed Savioursaid, "The works that I do, ye shall do also. " But the priests, hisrepresentatives, clearly were not doing the works of the Master. Andif he himself had been an ordained priest at the time of his father'sdeath, could he have saved him? No, he well knew that he could not. And yet he would have been the Saviour's representative among men. Alas! how poor a one he well knew. 

In his stress of mind he sought his uncle, and by him was again ledbefore the Archbishop. His reticence and timidity dispersed by hisgreat sorrow, the distraught boy faced the high ecclesiastic withquestions terribly blunt. 

"Why, my Father, after four years in the _Seminario_, am I not beingtaught to do the works which our blessed Saviour did?"

The placid Archbishop stared at the boy in dumb astonishment. Again, after years of peace that had promised quiescence on these mootedpoints! Well, he must buckle on his armor--if indeed he had notoutgrown it quite--and prepare to withstand anew the assaults of thedevil!

"H'm!--to be specific, my son--you mean--?" The great man wassparring. 

"Why do we not heal the sick as he did?" the boy explained tersely. 

"Ah!" The peace-loving man of God breathed easier. How simple! Thedevil was firing a cracked blunderbuss. 

"My son, " he advanced with paternal unction, "you have been taught--orshould have been, ere this--that the healing miracles of our blessedSaviour belong to a dispensation long past. They were special signsfrom God, given at the time of establishing His Church on earth, toconvince an incredulous multitude. They are not needed now. Weconvince by logic and reason and by historical witnesses to the deedsof the Saints and our blessed Saviour. " As he pronounced this sacredname the holy man devoutly crossed himself. "Men would believe no morereadily to-day, " he added easily, "even if they should see miracles ofhealing, for they would attribute them to the human mentality, tosuggestion, hypnotism, hallucination, and the like. Even the mightydeeds of Christ were attributed to Beelzebub. " The complacent Fathersettled back into his chair with an air of having disposed for alltime of the mooted subject of miracles. 

"That begs the question, my Father!" returned the boy quickly andexcitedly. "And as I read church history it is thus that the questionhas been begged ever since the first century!"

"What!" The Archbishop was waxing hot. "Do you, a mere child ofsixteen, dare to dispute the claims of Holy Church?"

"My Father, " the boy spoke slowly and with awful earnestness, "I havebeen four years in the _Seminario_. I do not find the true Christthere; nor do I think I shall find him within the Church. "

"_Sanctissima Maria!_" The Archbishop bounded to his feet "Have yousold yourself to the devil?" he exploded. "Have you fed these years atthe warm breasts of the Holy Mother, only to turn now and rend her?Have you become a Protester? Apostate and forsworn!"

"My Father, " the boy returned calmly, "did Jesus tell the truth--ordid he lie? If he spoke truth, then I think he is _not_ in theChurch to-day. She has wholly misunderstood him--or else she--shedeliberately falsifies. "

The Archbishop sank gasping into his chair. 

Josè went on. "You call me apostate and forsworn. I am neither. Onecannot become apostate when he has never believed. As to beingforsworn--I am a Rincón!"

The erect head and flashing eyes of the youth drew an involuntaryexclamation of approval from the anxious secretary, who had stoodstriving to evolve from his befuddled wits some course adequate to thestrained situation. 

But the boy's proud bearing was only momentary. The wonted look oftroubled wistfulness again settled over his face, and his shouldersbent to their accustomed stoop, as if his frail body were slowlycrushing beneath a tremendous burden. 

"My Father, " he continued sadly, "do not the Gospels show that Jesusproved the truth of all he taught by doing the works which we callmiracles? But does the Church to-day by any great works prove a singleone of her teachings? You say that Christianity no longer needs thehealing of the sick in order to prove its claims. I answer that, ifso, it likewise no longer needs the preaching of the gospel, for Icannot find that Jesus made any distinction between the two. Always hecoupled one with the other. His command was ever, 'Preach the gospel, heal the sick!' His works of healing were simply signs which showedthat he understood what he taught. They were his proofs, and theyfollowed naturally his great understanding of God. But what proofs doyou offer when you ask mankind to accept your preaching? Jesus said, 'He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also. ' Ifyou do not do the works which he did, it shows plainly that you do notbelieve on him--that is, that you do not understand him. When I am anordained priest, and undertake to preach the gospel to the world, mustI confess to my people that I cannot prove what I am teaching? Must Iconfess that there is no proof within the Church? Is it not so, thattrue believers in Jesus Christ believe exactly in the proportion inwhich they obey him and do his works?"

The boy paused for breath. The Archbishop and his secretary satspellbound before him. Then he resumed--

"How the consecrated wafer through the words of a priest becomes thereal body of Christ, I am as yet unable to learn. I do not believe itdoes. How priests can grant absolution for sins when, to me, sins areforgiven only when they are forsaken, I have not been taught. I do notbelieve they can. The Church assumes to teach these things, but itcannot prove them. From the great works of Jesus and his apostles ithas descended to the blessing of _milagros_ and candles, to theworship of the Virgin and man-made Saints, to long processions, toshow and glitter--while without her doors the poor, the sick and thedying stretch out their thin, white hands and beseech her to savethem, not from hell or purgatory in a supposed life to come, but frommisery, want and ignorance right here in this world, as Jesus told hisfollowers they should do. If you can show forth the omnipotence of Godby healing the sick and raising the dead, I could accept that as proofof your understanding of the teachings of Jesus--and what you _really_understand you can demonstrate and teach to others. Theologicalquestions used to bother me, but they do so no longer. Holy oil, holywater, blessed candles, incense, images and display do not interest meas they did when a child, nor do they any longer seem part of anintelligent worship of God. But"--his voice rising in animation--"totouch the blind man's eyes and see them open; to bid the leper beclean, and see his skin flush with health--ah! that is to worship Godin spirit and in truth--that is to prove that you understand whatJesus taught and are obeying, not part, but _all_ of his commands. Iam not apostate"--he concluded sadly--"I never did fully believe thatthe religion of Jesus is the religion which the Church to-day preachesand pretends to practice. I do not believe in her heaven, herpurgatory or her hell, nor do I believe that her Masses move God torelease souls from torment. I do not believe in her powers to pardonand curse. I do not believe in her claims of infallibility. But--"

He hesitated a moment, as if not quite sure of his ground. Then hisface glowed with sudden eagerness, and he cried, "My Father, theChurch needs the light--do you not see it?--do you not, my uncle?"turning appealingly to the hard-faced secretary. "Can we not work tohelp her, and through her reach the world? Should not the Churchrightly be the greatest instrument for good? But how can she teach thetruth when she herself is so filled with error? How can she preach thegospel when she knows not what the gospel is? But Jesus said that ifwe obeyed him we should know of the doctrine, should know the truemeaning of the gospel. But we must first obey. We must not onlypreach, but we must become spiritually minded enough to heal thesick--"

"_Dios nos guarde!_" interrupted the Archbishop, attempting to rise, but prevented by his secretary, who laid a restraining hand on hisarm. The latter then turned to the overwrought boy. 

"My dear Josè, " he said, smiling patronizingly upon the youth, although his cold eyes glittered like bits of polished steel, "HisEminence forgives your hasty words, for he recognizes your earnestness, and, moreover, is aware how deeply your heart is lacerated by yourrecent bereavement. But, further--and I say this in confidence toyou--His Eminence and I have discussed these very matters to which yourefer, and have long seen the need of certain changes within theChurch which will redound to her glory and usefulness. And you must knowthat the Holy Father in Rome also recognizes these needs, and sees, too, the time when they will be met. However, his great wisdomprevents him from acting hastily. You must remember that our blessedSaviour suffered many things to be so for the time, although he knewthey would be altered in due season. So it is with the Church. Herchildren are not all deep thinkers, like yourself, but are for the mostpart poor and ignorant people, who could not understand your highviews. They must be led in ways with which they are familiar untilthey can be lifted gradually to higher planes of thought and conduct. Is it not so? You are one who will do much for them, my son--but youwill accomplish nothing by attempting suddenly to overthrow theestablished traditions which they reverence, nor by publicly pratingabout the Church's defects. Your task will be to lead them gently, imperceptibly, up out of darkness into the light, which, despite youraccusations, _does_ shine in the Church, and is visible to all whorightly seek it. You have yet four years in the _Seminario_. You gaveus your promise--the Rincón word--that you would lay aside thesedoubts and questionings until your course was completed. We do nothold you--_but you hold yourself to your word_! Our sincere adviceis that you keep your counsel, and silently work with us for the Churchand mankind. The Church will offer you unlimited opportunities forservice. She is educating you. Indeed, has she not generously given youthe very data wherewith you are enabled now to accuse her? You willfind her always the same just, tolerant, wise Mother, leading herchildren upward as fast as they are able to journey. Her work isuniversal, and she is impervious to the shafts of envy, malice, andhatred which her enemies launch at her. She has resources of which youas yet know nothing. In the end she will triumph. You are offered anopportunity to contribute toward that triumph and to share in it. His Eminence knows that you will not permit Satan to make you rejectthat offer now. "

The secretary's sharp, beady eyes looked straight into those of theyouth, and held him. His small, round head, with its low brow andgrizzled locks, waved snake-like on the man's long neck. His tallform, in its black cassock, bent over the lad like a spectre. Hisslender arms, of uncanny length, waved constantly before him; and thelong, bony fingers seemed to reach into the boy's very soul and chokethe springs of life at their origin. His reasoning took the form ofsuggestion, bearing the indisputable stamp of authority. Again, theboy, confused and uncertain, bowed before years and worldlyexperience, and returned to his solitude and the companionship of hisbooks and his writing. 

"Occupy till I come, " the patient Master had tenderly said. Fromearliest boyhood Josè had heard this clarion call within his soul. Andstriving, delving, plodding, he had sought to obey--struggling towardthe distant gleam, toward the realization of something better andnearer the Master's thought than the childish creeds of hisfellow-men--something warmer, more vital than the pulseless decrees ofecumenical councils--something to solve men's daily problems here onearth--something to heal their diseases of body and soul, and liftthem into that realm of spiritual thinking where material pleasures, sensations, and possessions no longer form the single aim andexistence of mankind, and life becomes what in reality it is, eternalecstasy! The Christ had promised! And Josè would occupy and wait infaith until, with joy inexpressible, he should behold the shining formof the Master at the door of his opened tomb. 

"With Your Eminence's permission I will accompany the boy back toRome, " the secretary said one day, shortly before Josè's return to theseminary. "I will consult with the Rector, and suggest that certainand special tutelage be given the lad. Let them bring their powers ofreasoning and argument to bear upon him, to the end that his thinkingmay be directed into proper channels before it is too late. _Hombre!_"he muttered, as with head bent and hands clasped behind his back heslowly paced before the Archbishop. "To think that he is a Rincón! Andyet, but sixteen--a babe--a mere babe!"

CHAPTER 7

It must have been, necessarily, a very complex set of causes thatcould lay hold on a boy so really gifted as Josè de Rincón and, against his instincts and, on the part of those responsible for thedeed, with the certain knowledge of his disinclination, urge him intothe priesthood of a religious institution with which congenitally hehad but little in common. 

To begin with, the bigoted and selfish desires of his parents found inthe boy's filial devotion a ready and sufficient means of compellinghim to any sacrifice of self. Only a thorough understanding of theSpanish temperament will enable one to arrive at a just estimate ofJosè's character, and the sacredness of the promises given his mother. Though the child might pine and droop like a cankered rosebud, yet hewould never cease to regard the sanctity of his oath as eternallybinding. And the mother would accept the sacrifice, for her love forher little son was clouded by her great ambitions in respect to hisearthly career, and her genuine solicitude for his soul's eternalwelfare. 

Family tradition, sacred and inviolable, played its by no meanssmall part in this affair. Custom, now as inviolable as the Jewishlaw, decreed that the first-born son should sink his individualityinto that of the Mother Church. And to the Spaniard, _costumbre_is law. Again, the vacillating and hesitant nature of the boyhimself contributed largely to the result; for, though supremelygifted in receptivity and broadness of mind, in critical analysisand keenness of perception, he nevertheless lacked the energy of willnecessary to the shaping of a life-course along normal lines. The boyknew what he preferred, yet he said _Amen_ both to the prayers ofhis parents and the suggestions of doubt which his own mind offered. He was weakest where the greatest firmness was demanded. His loveof study, his innate shrinking from responsibility, and hisrepugnance toward discord and strife--in a word, his lack offighting qualities--naturally caused him to seek the lines of leastresistance, and thus afforded a ready advantage to those who soughtto influence him. 

But why, it may be asked, such zeal on the part of the Archbishop andhis secretary in forcing upon the boy a career to which they knew hewas disinclined? Why should loyal agents of the Church so tirelesslyurge into the priesthood one who might prove a serpent in her bosom?

The Archbishop may be dismissed from this discussion. That his motiveswere wholly above the bias of worldly ambition, we may not affirm. Yetwe know that he was actuated by zeal for the Church; that he had itsadvancement, its growth in power and prestige always at heart. And weknow that he would have rejoiced some day to boast, "We have saved tothe Church a brilliant son who threatened to become a redoubtableenemy. " The forces operating for and against this desideratum seemedto him about equally matched. The boy was still very young. His mindwas as yet in the formative period, and would be for some years. Ifthe Church could secure her hold upon him during this period she woulddoubtless retain it for all time; for, as the sagacious secretary sooften quoted to his superior, "Once a priest, always a priest, "emphasizing the tenet that the character imprinted by ordination isineffaceable. 

As for the secretary, he was a Rincón, proud and bigoted, and withalfanatically loyal to the Church as an institution, whatever its orhis own degree of genuine piety. It was deeply galling to hisecclesiastical pride to see the threatened development of hereticaltendencies in a scion of his house. These were weeds which mustand should be choked, cost what it might! To this end any means werejustified, for "What doth it profit a man to gain the whole worldand lose his own soul?" And the Rincón soul had been molded centuriesago. The secretary hated the rapidly developing "scientific" spiritof the age and the "higher criticism" with a genuine and deadlyhatred. His curse rested upon all modern culture. To him, the Jesuitcollege at Rome had established the level of intellectual freedom. He worshiped the landmarks which the Fathers had set, and he wouldhave opposed their removal with his life. No, the Rincón traditionsmust be preserved at whatever cost! The heretical buddings within Josèshould be checked; he should enter the priesthood; his thinkingshould be directed into proper channels; his mind should be bent intoconformity with Holy Church! If not--but there was no alternative. The all-powerful Church could and would accomplish it. 

In the choice of Rafaél de Rincón as secretary and assistant, theArchbishop had secured to himself a man of vast knowledge ofecclesiastical matters, of great acumen, and exceptional ability. Theman was a Jesuit, and a positive, dynamic representative of all thatthe order stands for. He was now in his sixty-eighth year, but asvigorous of mind and body as if he bore but half his burden of age. For some years prior to his connection with the See of Seville he hadserved in the royal household at Madrid. But, presumably at therequest of Queen Isabella, he had been peremptorily summoned to Romesome three years before her exile; and when he again left the EternalCity it was with the tentative papal appointment to Seville. 

Just why Padre Rafaél had been relieved of his duties in Madrid wasnever divulged. But gossip supplied the paucity of fact with the usualdelectable speculations, the most persistent of which had to do withthe rumored birth of a royal child. The deplorable conduct of theQueen after her enforced marriage to Don Francisco D'Assis had thrownthe shadow of suspicion on the legitimacy of all her children; andwhen it began to be widely hinted that Padre Rafaél, were he sodisposed, might point to a humble cottage in the sunlit hills ofGranada where lay a tiny _Infanta_, greatly resembling the famoussinger and favorite of the Queen, Marfori, Marquis de Loja, Isabella'salarm was sufficient to arouse the Vatican to action. With the removalof Padre Rafaél, and the bestowal of the "_Golden Rose of Faith andVirtue_" upon the Queen by His Holiness, Pio Nono, the rumor quicklysubsided, and was soon forgotten. 

Whether because of this supposed secret Padre Rafaél was in favor atthe court of Pio Nono's successor, we may not say. The man's characterwas quite enigmatical, and divulged nothing. But, if we may againappeal to rumor, he did appear to have influence in papal circles. Andwe are not sure that he did not seek to augment that influence bysecuring his irresolute little nephew to the Church. And yet, thesincerity of his devotion to the papacy cannot be questioned, aswitness his services to Pius IX. , "the first Christian to achieveinfallibility, " during the troublesome years of 1870-71, when theFrench _débâcle_ all but scuttled the papal ship of state. And if nowhe sought to use his influence at the Vatican, we shall generouslyattribute it to his loyalty to Rincón traditions, and his genuineconcern for the welfare of the little Josè, rather than to any desireto advance his own ecclesiastical status. 

But, it may be asked, during the eight years of Josè's course in theseminary, did his tutors not mark the forces at work in the boy'ssoul? And if so, why did they not urge his dismissal as unfit for thecalling of the priesthood?

Because, true to his promises, and stubbornly hugging the fetish offamily pride, the boy gave but little indication during the first fouryears of his course of the heretical doubts and disbeliefs fermentingwithin his troubled mind. And when, after the death of his father andits consequent release of the flood of protest and mental disquiet solong pent up within him, the uncle returned to Rome with the lad toadvise his instructors to bring extra pressure to bear upon him inorder to convince him of the truths upon which the Church rested, Josèsubsided again into his wonted attitude of placid endurance, even ofpartial acceptance of the religious tutelage, and seldom gave furthersign of inner discord. Acting upon the suggestions of the uncle, Josè's instructors took special pains to parade before him theevidence and authorities supporting the claims of Holy Church and thegrand tenets upon which the faith reposed. In particular were thearguments of Cardinal Newman cited to him, and the study of thelatter's Apology was made a requirement of his course. The writings ofthe great Cardinal Manning also were laid before him, and he was toldto find therein ample support for all assumptions of the Church. 

Silently and patiently the boy to outward appearance acquiesced; butoften the light of his midnight candle might have revealed a wan face, frowning and perplexed, while before him lay the Cardinal's argumentfor belief in the miraculous resuscitation of the Virgin Mary--theargument being that the story is a beautiful one, and a comfort tothose pious souls who think it true!

Often, too, there lay before him the words of the great Newman:

 "You may be taken away young; you may live to fourscore; you may die in your bed, or in the open field--but if Mary intercedes for you, that day will find you watching and ready. All things will be fixed to secure your salvation, all dangers will be foreseen, all obstacles removed, all aid provided. "

And as often he would close the book and drop his head in wonder thata man so humanly great could believe in an infinite, omnipotent Godamenable to influence, even to that of the sanctified Mary. 

"The Christ said, 'These signs shall follow them that believe, '" hesometimes murmured, as he sat wrapped in study. "But do the Master'ssigns follow the Cardinals? Yet these men say they believe. What canthey do that other men can not? Alas, nothing! What boots theirsterile faith?"

The limitations with which the lad was hedged about in the _Seminario_quite circumscribed his existence there. All lay influences werecarefully excluded, and he learned only what was selected for himby his teachers. Added to this narrowing influence was his promiseto his mother that he would read nothing proscribed by the Church. OfBible criticism, therefore, he might know nothing. For originalinvestigation of authorities there was neither permission noropportunity. He was taught to discount historical criticism, and toregard anarchy as the logical result of independence of thought. He was likewise impressed with the fact that he must not question theofficial acts of Holy Church. 

"But, " he once remonstrated, "it was by an ecumenical council--a groupof frail human beings--that the Pope was declared infallible! And thatonly a few years ago!"

"The council but set its seal of affirmation to an already great andestablished fact, " was the reply. "As the supreme teacher and definerof the Church of God no Pope has ever erred, nor ever can err, in theexposition of revealed truth. "

"But Tito Cennini said in class but yesterday that many of the Popeshad been wicked men!"

"You must learn to distinguish, my son, between the man and theoffice. No matter what the private life of a Pope may have been, thevalidity of his official acts is not thereby affected. Nor is thedoctrine of the Church. "

"But, --"

"Nay, my son; this is what the Church teaches; and to slight it is toemperil your soul. "

But, despite his promises to his mother and the Archbishop, and indespite, too, of his own conscientious endeavor to keep everycontaminating influence from entering his mind, he could not preventthis same Tito from assiduously cultivating his friendship, andvoicing the most liberal and worldly opinions to him. 

"_Perdio_, but you are an ignorant animal, Josè!" ejaculated thelittle rascal one day, entering Josè's room and throwing himself uponthe bed. "Why, didn't you know that the Popes used to raise money byselling their pardons and indulgences? That fellow Tetzel, back inLuther's time, rated sacrilege at nine ducats, murder at seven, witchcraft at six, and so on. Ever since the time of Innocent VIII. Immunity from purgatory could be bought. It was his chamberlain whoused to say, 'God willeth not the death of a sinner, but that heshould pay and live. ' Ha! ha! Those were good old days, _amico mío_!"

But the serious Josè, to whom honor was a sacred thing, saw not hiscompanion's cause for mirth. "Tito, " he hazarded, "our instructortells us that we must distinguish--"

"Ho! ho!" laughed the immodest Tito, "if the Apostolic virtue has beenhanded down from the great Peter through the long line of Bishops ofRome and later Popes, what happened to it when there were two or threePopes, in the Middle Ages? And which branch retained the unbrokensuccession? Of a truth, _amico_, you are very credulous!"

Josè looked at him horrified. 

"And which branch now, " continued the irrepressible Tito, "holds amonopoly of the Apostolic virtue, the Anglican Church, the Greek, orthe Roman Catholic? For each claims it, and each regards its rivalclaimants as rank heretics. "

Josè could not but dwell long and thoughtfully on this. Then, later, he again sought the graceless Tito. "_Amico_, " he said eagerly, "whydo not these claimants of the true Apostolic virtue seek to provetheir claims, instead of, like pouting children, vainly spendingthemselves in denouncing their rivals?"

"_Prove them!_" shouted Tito. "And how, _amico mío_?"

"Why, " returned Josè earnestly, "by doing the works the Apostles did;by healing the sick, and raising the dead, and--"

Tito answered with a mocking laugh. "_Perdio, amico!_ know you notthat if they submitted to such proof not one of the variouscontestants could substantiate his claims?"

"Then, oh, then how could the council declare the Pope to beinfallible?"

Tito regarded his friend pityingly. "My wonder is, _amico_, " hereplied seriously, "that they did not declare him _immortal_ as well. When you read the true history of those exciting days and learnsomething of the political intrigue with which the Church was thenconnected, you will see certain excellent reasons why the Holy Fathershould have been declared infallible. But let me ask you, _amico_, ifyou have such doubts, why are you here, of all places? Surely it isnot your own life-purpose to become a priest!"

"My life-purpose, " answered Josè meditatively, "is to find my soul--my_real_ self. "

Tito went away shaking his head. He could not understand such acharacter as that of Josè. But, for that matter, no one everfathoms a fellow-being. And so we who have attempted a sketch ofthe boy's mentality will not complain if its complexity preventsus from adequately setting it forth. Rather shall we feel that wehave accomplished much if we have shown that the lad had no slightjustification for the budding seeds of religious doubt within hismind, and for concluding that of the constitution of God menknow nothing, despite their fantastical theories and their boldaffirmations, as if He were a man in their immediate neighborhood, with whom they were on the most intimate terms. 

In the course of time Josè found the companionship of Tito increasinglyunendurable, and so he welcomed the formation of another friendshipamong his mates, even though it was with a lad much older than himself, Bernardo Damiano, a candidate for ordination, and one thoroughlyindoctrinated in the faith of Holy Church. With open and receptiveheart our young Levite eagerly availed himself of his new friend'svoluntary discourses on the mooted topics about which his own thoughtincessantly revolved. 

"Fear not, Josè, to accept all that is taught you here, " said Bernardoin kindly admonition; "for if this be not the very doctrine of theChrist himself, where else will you find it? Among the Protesters?Nay, they have, it is true, hundreds of churches; and they callthemselves Christians. But their religion is as diverse as theirchurches are numerous, and it is not of God or Jesus Christ. They haveimpiously borrowed from us. Their emasculated creeds are onlyassumptions of human belief. They recognize no law of consistency, andso they enjoy unbridled license. They believe what they please, andeach interprets Holy Writ to suit his own fantastical whims. "

"But, the Popes--" began Josè, returning again to his troublesometopic. 

"Yes, and what of them?" replied his friend calmly. "Can you not seebeyond the human man to the Holy Office? The Holy Father is thesuccessor of the great Apostle Peter, whom our blessed Saviourappointed his Vicar on earth, and constituted the supreme teacher andjudge in matters of morals. Remember, _Jesus Christ founded theCatholic religion_! He established the Church, which he commanded allmen to support and obey. That Church is still, and always will be, theinfallible teacher of truth, for Jesus declared that it should neverfall. Let not Satan lead you to the Protesters, Josè, for their creedsare but snares and pitfalls. "

"I know nothing of Protestant creeds, nor want to, " answered Josè. "IfJesus Christ established the Catholic religion, then I want to acceptit, and shall conclude that my doubts and questionings are but thewhisperings of Satan. But--"

"But what, my friend? The Popes again?" Bernardo laughed, and put hisarm affectionately about the younger lad. "The Pope, Josè, is, alwayshas been, and always will be, supreme, crowned with the triple crownas king of earth, and heaven, and hell. We mortals have not made himso. Heaven alone did that. God himself made our Pontiff of the HolyCatholic Church superior even to the angels; and if it were possiblefor them to believe contrary to the faith, he could judge them and laythe ban of excommunication upon them. "

Josè's eyes widened while his friend talked. Was he losing his ownsenses? Or was it true, as his lamented father had said, that he hadbeen cast under the spell of the devil's wiles? Had he beenforeordained to destruction by his own heretical thought? For, if whathe heard in Rome was truth, then was he damned, irrevocably!

"Come, " said his friend, taking his arm; "let us go to the library andread the _Credo_ of the Holy Father, Pius the Fourth, wherein is setforth in detail the doctrinal system of our beloved Church. And let meurge you, my dear young friend, to accept it, unreservedly, and be atpeace, else will your life be a ceaseless torment. "

Oh, that he could have done so! That he could have joined thosethousands of faithful, loyal adherents to Holy Church, who find in itsdoctrines naught that stimulates a doubt, nor urges against the divineinstitution of its gorgeous, material fabric!

But, vain desire! "I cannot! I cannot!" he wailed in the dark hours ofnight upon his bed. "I cannot love a God who has to be prayed to bySaints and Virgin, and persuaded by them not to damn His own children!I cannot believe that the Pope, a mere human being, can canonizeSaints and make spiritual beings who grant the prayers of men andintercede with God for them! Yes, I know there are multitudes of goodpeople who believe and accept the doctrines of the Church. But, alas!I am not one of them, nor can be. "

For, we repeat, the little Josè was morbidly honest. And this gaverise to fear, a corroding fear that he might not do right by hisGod, his mother, and himself, the three variants in his complexlife-equation. His self-condemnation increased; yet his doubtskept pace with it. He more than ever distrusted his own powers afterhis first four years in the seminary. He more than ever lackedself-confidence. He was more than ever vacillating, hesitant, andinfirm of purpose. He even at times, when under the pall ofmelancholia, wondered if he had really loved his deceased father, and whether it was real grief which he felt at his parent's demise. Often, too, when fear and doubt pressed heavily, and his companionsavoided him because of the aura of gloom in which he dwelt, hewondered if he were becoming insane. He seemed to become obsessedwith the belief that his ability to think was slowly paralyzing. Andwith it his will. And yet, proof that this was not the case wasfound in his stubborn opposition to trite acquiescence, and in hisinfrequent reversals of mood, when he would even feel an intense, if transient, sense of exaltation in the thought that he was doingthe best that in him lay. 

It was during one of these lighter moods, and at the close of a schoolyear, that a great joy came to him in an event which left a lastingimpress upon his life. Following close upon a hurried visit which hisuncle paid to Rome, the boy was informed that it had been arranged forhim to accompany the Papal Legate on a brief journey through Germanyand England, returning through France, in order that he might gain afirst-hand impression of the magnitude of the work which the Churchwas doing in the field, and meet some of her great men. Thebroadening, quieting, confidence-inspiring influence of such a journeywould be, in the opinion of Padre Rafaél, incalculable. And so, witheager, bubbling hope, the lad set out. 

Whatever it may have been intended that the boy should see on thisecclesiastical pilgrimage, he returned to Rome at the end of threemonths with his quick, impressionable mind stuffed with food forreflection. Though he had seen the glories of the Church, worshiped inher matchless temples, and sat at the feet of her great scholars, nowin the quiet of his little room he found himself dwelling upon asingle thought, into which all of his collected impressions weregathered: "The Church--Catholic and Protestant--is--oh, God, theChurch is--not sick, not dying, but--_dead_! Aye, it has served bothGod and Mammon, and paid the awful penalty! And what is left?_Caesarism_!" The great German and British nations were not Catholic. But worse, the Protestant people of the German Empire were sadlyindifferent to religion. He had seen, in Berlin, men of family tryingto resell the Bibles which their children had used in preparation forconfirmation. He had found family worship all but extinct. He hadmarked the widespread indifference among Protestant parents in regardto the religious instruction of their young. He had been told therethat parents had but a slight conception of their duty as moralguides, and that children were growing up with only sensuous pleasuresand material gain as their life-aims. Again and again he was shownwhere in whole districts it was utterly impossible to secure young menfor ordination to the Protestant ministry. And he was furnished withstatistics setting forth the ominous fact that within a few years, were the present decline unchecked, there would be no students in theProtestant universities of the country. 

"Do you not see in this, my son, " said the Papal Legate, "the blightof unbelief? Do you not mark the withering effects of the modernso-called scientific thought? What think you of a religion wherein thechief interest centers in trials for heresy; whose ultimate effectupon human character is a return to the raw, primitive, immature senseof life that once prevailed among this great people? What think younow of Luther and his diabolical work?"

The wondering boy hung his head without reply. Would Germany at lengthcome to the true fold? And was that fold the Holy Catholic Church?

And England--ah! there was the Anglican church, Catholic, but notRoman, and therefore but a counterfeit of the Lord's true Church. Would it endure? "No, " the Legate had said; "already defection has setin, and the prodigal's return to the loving parent in Rome is but amatter of time. "

Then came his visit to the great abbey of Westminster, and theimpression which, to his last earthly day, he bore as one of his mostsacred treasures. There in the famous Jerusalem Chamber he had sat, his eyes suffused with tears and his throat choked with emotion. Inthat room the first Lancastrian king long years before had closed hisunhappy life. There the great Westminster Confession had been framed. There William of Orange had held his weighty discussion of thePrayer-Book revision, which was hoped to bring Churchmen andDissenters again into harmony. And there, greatest of all, hadgathered, day after day, and year after year, the patient, devotedgroup of men who gave to the world its Revised Edition of the HolyBible, only a few brief years ago. As the rapt Josè closed his eyesand listened to the whispered conversation of the scholarly men abouthim, he seemed to see the consecrated Revisers, seated again at thelong table, deep in the holy search of the Scriptures for the profoundsecrets of life which they hold. He saw with what sedulous care theypursued their sacred work, without trace of prejudice or religiousbias, and with only the selfless purpose always before them to renderto mankind a priceless benefit in a more perfect rendition of the Wordof God. Why could not men come together now in that same generousspirit of love? But no, Rome would never yield her assumptions. Butwhen the lad rose and followed his guides from the room, it was with anew-born conviction, and a revival of his erstwhile firm purpose totranslate for himself, at the earliest opportunity, the GreekTestament, if, perchance, he might find thereby what his yearning soulso deeply craved, the truth. 

That the boy was possessed of scholarly instincts, there could be nodoubt. His ability had immediately attracted his instructors onentering the seminary. And, but for his stubborn opposition todogmatic acceptance without proofs, he might have taken and maintainedthe position of leader in scholarship in the institution. Literatureand the languages, particularly Greek, were his favorite studies, andin these he excelled. Even as a child, long before the eventful nightwhen his surreptitious reading of Voltaire precipitated events, he haddetermined to master Greek, and some day to translate the NewTestament from the original sources into his beloved Castilian tongue. Before setting out for Rome he had so applied himself to the wornlittle grammar which the proprietor of the bookstall in Seville hadloaned him, that he was able to make translations with comparativefluency. In the seminary he plunged into it with avidity; and when hereturned from his journey with the Papal Legate he began in earnesthis translation of the Testament. This, like so much of the boy's workand writing, was done secretly and in spare moments. And his zeal wassuch that often in the middle of the night it would compel him to riseand, after drawing the shades carefully and stopping the crack underthe door with his cassock, light his candle and dig away at hisTestament until dawn. 

This study of the New Testament in the Greek resulted in manytranslations differing essentially from the accepted version, as couldnot but happen when a mind so original as that of the boy Josè wasconcentrated upon it. His first stumbling block was met in the prayerof Jesus in an attempt to render the petition, "Give us this day ourdaily bread, " into idiomatic modern thought. The word translated"daily" was not to be found elsewhere in the Greek language. Evidently the Aramaic word which Jesus employed, and of which thisGreek word was a translation, must have been an unusual one--a coinedexpression. And what did it mean? No one knows. Josè found means toput the question to his tutor. He was told that it doubtless meant"super-supernal. " But what could "super-supernal" convey to theworld's multitude of hungry suppliants for the bread of life! And sohe rendered the phrase "Give us each day a better understanding ofThee. " Again, going carefully through his Testament the boy crossedout the words translated "God, " and in their places substituted"divine influence. " Many of the best known and most frequentlyquoted passages suffered similarly radical changes at his hands. Forthe translation "truth, " the boy often preferred to substitute"reality"; and such passages as "speaking the truth in love" wererendered by him, "lovingly speaking of those things which are real. ""Faith" and "belief" were generally changed to "understanding" and"real knowing, " so that the passage, "O ye of little faith, "became in his translation, "O ye of slight understanding. " The word"miracle" he consistently changed to "sign" throughout. The command toask "in the name of Jesus" caused him hours of deep and perplexingthought, until he hit upon the, to him, happy rendering, "in hischaracter. " Why not? In the character of the Christ mankind might askanything and it would be given them. But to acquire that charactermen must repent. And the Greek word "metanoia, " so generallyrendered "repentance, " would therefore have to be translated "radicaland complete change of thought. " Again, why not? Was not a completechange of thought requisite if one were to become like Jesus? Couldmortals think continually of murder, warfare, disaster, failure, crime, sickness and death, and of the acquisition of materialriches and power, and still hope to acquire the character of themeek but mighty Nazarene? Decidedly no! And so he went on delvingand plodding, day after day, night after night, substituting andchanging, but always, even if unconsciously, giving to the Scripturea more metaphysical and spiritual meaning, which displaced in itstranslation much of the material and earthy. 

Before the end of his seminary training the translation was complete. What a new light it seemed to throw upon the mission of Jesus! Howfully he realized now that creeds and confessions had never even begunto sound the profound depths of the Bible! What a changed message itseemed to carry for mankind! How he longed to show it to hispreceptors and discuss it with them! But his courage failed when hefaced this thought. However, another expedient presented: he wouldwrite a treatise on the New Testament, embodying the salient facts ofhis translation, and send it out into the world for publication in thehope that it might do much good. Again, night after night in holy zealhe toiled on the work, and when completed, sent it, under his name, toa prominent literary magazine published in Paris. 

Its appearance--for it was accepted eagerly by the editor, who wasbitterly hostile to the Church--caused a stir in ecclesiasticalcircles and plunged the unwise lad into a sea of trouble. The essay ingeneral might have been excusable on its distinct merits and thereally profound scholarship exhibited in its composition. But when theboy, a candidate for holy orders, and almost on the eve of hisordination, seized upon the famous statement of Jesus in which he isreported to have told Peter that he was the rock upon which the Lord'schurch should be eternally founded, and showed that Jesus called Petera stone, "_petros_, " a loose stone, and one of many, whereas he thensaid that his church should be founded upon "_petra_, " the living, immovable rock of truth, thus corroborating Saint Augustine, butconfuting other supposedly impregnable authority for the superiorityand infallibility of the Church, it was going a bit too far. 

The result was severe penance, coupled with soul-searing reprimand, and absolute prohibition of further original writing. His translationof the Testament was confiscated, and he was commanded to destroyall notes referring to it, and to refrain from making furthertranslations. His little room was searched, and all references andpapers which might be construed as unevangelical were seized andburned. He was then transferred to another room for the remainder ofhis seminary course, and given a roommate, a cynical, sneeringbully of Irish descent, steeped to the core in churchly doctrine, who did not fail to embrace every opportunity to make the sufferingpenitent realize that he was in disgrace and under surveillance. Theeffect was to drive the sensitive boy still further into himself, and to augment the sullenness of disposition which had earliercharacterized him and separated him from social intercourse withthe world in which he moved apart from his fellow-men. 

Thus had Josè been shown very clearly that implicit obedience would atall times be exacted from him by the Church. He had been shown quiteunmistakably that an inquisitive and determined spirit would not betolerated if it led to deductions at variance with accepted tradition. He might starve mentally, if his prescribed food did not satisfy hishunger; but he must understand, once for all, that truth had longsince been revealed, and that it was not within his province toattempt any further additions to the revelation. 

Once more, for the sake of his mother, and that he might learn allthat the Church had to teach him, the boy conscientiously tried toobey. He was reminded again that, though taught to obey, he was beingtrained to lead. This in a sense pleased him, as offering surceasefrom an erking sense of responsibility. Nevertheless, though heconstantly wavered in decision; though at times the Church won him, and he yielded temporarily to her abundant charms; the spirit ofprotest did wax steadily stronger within him as the years passed. Backand forth he swung, like a pendulum, now drawn by the power andinfluence of the mighty Church; now, as he approached it, repelled bythe things which were revealed as he drew near. In the last two yearsof his course his soul-revolt often took the form of open protest tohis preceptors against indulgences and the sacramental graces, againstthe arbitrary Index Expurgatorius, and the Church's stubbornopposition to modern progression. Like Faust, his studies wereconvincing him more and more firmly of the emptiness of humanhypotheses and undemonstrable philosophy. The growing conviction thatthe Holy Church was more worldly than spiritual filled his shrinkingsoul at times with horror. The limiting thought of Rome was oftenstifling to him. He had begun to realize that liberty of thought andconscience were his only as he received it already outlined from theChurch. Even his interpretation of the Bible must come from her. Hisvery ideas must first receive the ecclesiastical stamp before he mightadvance them. His opinions must measure up--or down--to those of histutors, ere he might even hold them. In terror he felt that the Churchwas absorbing him, heart and mind. His individuality was seeping away. In time he would become but a link in the great worldly system whichhe was being trained to serve. 

These convictions did not come to him all at once, nor were they asyet firmly fixed. They were rather suggestions which becameincreasingly insistent as the years went on. He had entered theseminary at the tender age of twelve, his mind wholly unformed, butprotesting even then. All through his course he had sought whatthere was in Christianity upon which he could lay firm hold. Inthe Church he had found an ultra-conservative spirit and extremereverence for authority. Tito had told him that it was the equivalentof ancestor-worship. But when he one day told his instructors that hewas not necessarily a disbeliever in the Scriptures because he didnot accept their interpretation of them, he could not but realizethat Tito had come dangerously near the truth. His translation ofthe Greek Testament had forced him to the conclusion that much of thematerial contained in the Gospels was not Jesus' own words, but thecommentaries of his reporters; not the Master's diction, buttheological lecturing by the writers of the Gospels. Moreover, inthe matter of prayer, especially, he was all at sea. As a child he hadspent hours formulating humble, fervent petitions, which did not seemto draw replies. And so there began to form within his mind aconcept, faint and ill-defined, of a God very different from thatcanonically accepted. He tried to believe that there was a Creatorback of all things, but that He was inexorable Law. And the ladwas convinced that, somehow, he had failed to get into harmony withthat infinite Law. But, in that case, why pray to Law? And, mostfoolish of all, why seek to influence it, whether through Virgin orSaint? And, if God is a good Father, why ask Him to _be_ good? Then, to his insistent question, "_Unde Deus_?" he tried to formulatethe answer that God is Spirit, and omnipresent. But, alas! thatmade the good God include evil. No, there was a terrible humanmisunderstanding of the divine nature, a woeful misinterpretation. He must try to ask for light in the character of the Christ. Butthen, how to assume that character? Like a garment? Impossible! "Oh, God above, " he wailed aloud again and again, "I don't know what tobelieve! I don't know what to think!" Foolish lad! Why did he thinkat all, when there were those at hand to relieve him of thatonerous task?

And so, at last, Josè sought to resign himself to his fate, and, thrusting aside these mocking questions, accept the opportunities forservice which his tutors so wisely emphasized as the Church's specialoffering to him. He yielded to their encouragement to plunge heartilyinto his studies, for in such absorption lay diversion from dangerouschannels of thought. Slowly, too, he yielded to their carefulinsistence that he must suffer many things to be so for the nonce, even as Jesus did, lest a too radical resistance now should delay thefinal glorious consummation. 

Was the boy actuated too strongly by the determination that hiswidowed mother's hopes should never be blasted by any assertion ofhis own will? Was he passively permitting himself to be warped andtwisted into a minion of an institution alien to his soul in bigotedadherence to his morbid sense of integrity? Was he for the presentcountenancing a lie, rather than permit the bursting of a bombwhich would rend the family and bring his beloved mother in sorrow tothe grave? Or was he biding his time, an undeveloped David, whowould some day sally forth like the lion of the tribe of Juda, tomatch his moral courage against the blustering son of Anak? Timeonly would tell. The formative period of his character was not yetended, and the data for prognostication were too complex andconflicting. We can only be sure that his consuming desire to knowhad been carefully fostered in the seminary, but in such a manner asunwittingly to add to his confusion of thought and to increase hisfear of throwing himself unreservedly upon his own convictions. Thathe grew to perceive the childishness of churchly dogma, we know. That he appreciated the Church's insane license of affirmation, itsimpudent affirmations of God's thoughts and desires, its coarseassumptions of knowledge of the inner workings of the mind ofOmnipotence, we likewise know. But, on the other hand, we knowthat he feared to break with the accepted faith. The claims ofProtestantism, though lacking the pomp and pageantry of Catholicismto give them attractiveness, offered him an interpretation of Christ'smission that was little better than the teachings he was receiving. And so his hesitant and vacillating nature, which hurled him into thelists to-day as the resolute foe of dogma and superstition, andto-morrow would leave him weak and doubting at the feet of theenemy, kept him wavering, silent and unhappy, on the thin edge ofresolution throughout the greater part of his course. His lack offorce, or the holding of his force in check by his filial honesty andhis uncertainty of conviction, kept him in the seminary for eightyears, during which his being was slowly, imperceptibly descendinginto him. At the age of twenty he was still unsettled, but furtherthan even he himself realized from Rome. Who shall say that he wasnot at the same time nearer to God?

On the day that he was twenty, three things of the gravest importhappened to the young Josè. His warm friend, Bernardo, died suddenly, almost in his arms; his uncle, Rafaél de Rincón, paid an unexpectedvisit to the Vatican; and the lad received the startling announcementthat he would be ordained to the priesthood on the following day. 

The sudden demise of the young Bernardo plunged Josè into an excess ofgrief and again encompassed him with the fear and horror of death. Heshut himself up in his room, and toward the close of the day took hiswriting materials and penned a passionate appeal to his mother, begging her to absolve him from his promises, and let him go out intothe world, a free man in search of truth. But scarcely had he finishedhis letter when he was summoned into the Rector's office. There it wasexplained to him that, in recognition of his high scholarship, of hispenitence and loyal obedience since the Testament episode, and of theadvanced work which he was now doing in the seminary and the splendidpromise he was giving, the Holy Father had been asked to grant aspecial indult, waiving the usual age requirement and permitting theboy to be ordained with the class which was to receive the holy orderof the priesthood the following day. It was further announced thatafter ordination he should spend a year in travel with the PapalLegate, and on his return might enter the office of the PapalSecretary of State, as an under-secretary, or office assistant. Whilethere, he would be called upon to teach in the seminary, and latermight be sent to the University to pursue higher studies leading tothe degree of Doctor. 

Before the boy had awakened to his situation, the day of hisordination arrived. The proud mother, learning from the secretary ofthe precipitation of events, and doting on the boy whom she had neverunderstood; in total ignorance of the complex elements of his soul, and little realizing that between her and her beloved son there wasnow a gulf fixed which would never be bridged, saw only the happyfruition of a life ambition. Fortunately she had been kept inignorance of the dubious incident of the Testament translation and itsresults upon the boy; and when the long anticipated day dawned hereyes swam in tears of hallowed joy. The Archbishop and his grimsecretary each congratulated the other heartily, and the latter, breaking into one of his rare smiles, murmured gratefully, "At last!And our enemies have lost a champion!"

The night before the ordination Josè had begged to occupy a roomalone. The appeal which emanated from his sad face, his thin andstooping body, his whole drawn and tortured being, would have meltedflint. His request was granted. Throughout the night the boy, on hisknees beside the little bed, wrestled with the emotions which weretearing his soul. Despondency lay over him like a pall. A vaguepresentiment of impending disaster pressed upon him like a millstone. Ceaselessly he weighed and reviewed the forces which had combined todrive him into the inconsistent position which he now occupied. Inconsistent, for his highest ideal had been truth. He was by natureconsecrated to it. He had sought it diligently in the Church, and nowthat he was about to become her priest he could not make himselfbelieve that he had found it. Now, when bound to her altars, he faceda life of deception, of falsehood, as the champion of a faith which hecould not unreservedly embrace. 

But he had accepted his education from the Church; and would he shrinkfrom making payment therefor? Yet, on the other hand, must hesacrifice honor--yea, his whole future--to the payment of a debtforced upon him before he had reached the age of reason? The oath ofordination, the priest's oath, echoed in his throbbing ears like asoul-sentence to eternal doom; while spectral shades of moving priestsand bishops, laying cold and unfeeling hands upon him, sealing him toendless servitude to superstition and deception, glided to and frothrough the darkness before his straining eyes. Could he receive theordination to-morrow? He had promised--but the assumption of itsobligations would brand his shrinking soul with torturing falsehood!If he sank under doubt and fear, could he still retract? What then ofhis mother and his promise to her? What of the Rincón honor and pride?Living disgrace, or a living lie--which? Sacrifice of self--or mother?God knew, he had never deliberately countenanced a falsehood--yet, through circumstances which he did not have the will to control, hewas a living one!

Fair visions of a life untrammeled by creed or religious conventionhovered at times that night before his mental gaze. He saw a cottage, rose-bowered, glowing in the haze of the summer sun. He saw before itsdoor a woman, fresh and fair--his wife--and children--his--shoutingtheir joyous greetings as they trooped out to welcome him returningfrom his day's labors. How he clung to this picture when it faded andleft him, an oath-bound celibate, facing his lonely and cheerlessdestiny! God! what has the Church to offer for such sacrifice as this!An education? Yea, an induction into relative truths and mortalopinions, and the sad record of the devious wanderings of the humanmind! An opportunity for service? God knows, the free, unhamperedmind, open to truth and progress, loosed from mediaeval dogma andignorant convention, seeing its brothers' needs and meeting in themits own, has opportunities for rich service to-day outside the Churchthe like of which have never before been offered!

To and fro his heaving thought ebbed and flowed. Back and forth thearguments, pro and con, surged through the still hours of thenight. After all, had he definite proof that the tenets of HolyChurch were false? No, he could not honestly say that he had. Thequestion still stood in abeyance. Even his conviction of theirfalsity at times had sorely wavered. And if his heart cried outagainst their acceptance, it nevertheless had nothing tangiblydefinite to offer in substitution. But--the end had come sosuddenly! With his life free and untrammeled he might yet find thetruth. Oath-bound and limited to the strictures of the Church, whathope was there but the acceptance of prescribed canons of humanbelief? Still, the falsities which he believed he had found within theChurch were not greater than those against which she herself fought inthe world. And if she accepted him, did it not indicate on her parta tacit recognition of the need of just what he had to offer, asearching spirit of inquiry and consecration to the unfoldment oftruth? Alas! the incident of the Greek translation threw itsshadow of doubt upon that hope. 

But if the Church accepted him, she _must_ accept his stand! He_would_ raise his voice in protest, and would continually point to thetruth as he discerned it! If he received the order of priesthood fromher it was with the understanding that his acceptance of her tenetswas tentative! But--forlorn expedient! He knew something ofecclesiastical history. He thought he knew--young as he was--that theChurch stood not for progress, not for conformity to changing ideals, not for alignment with the world's great reforms, but for _herself_, first, midst, and last!

Thus the conflict raged, while thoughts, momentous for even a maturethinker, tore through the mind of this lad of twenty. Prayers forlight--prayers which would have rent the heart of an Ivan--burst attimes from the feverish lips of this child of circumstance. InfiniteFather--Divine Influence--Spirit of Love--whatever Thou art--wilt Thounot illumine the thought-processes of this distracted youth and thusprovide the way of escape from impending destruction? Can it be Thywill that this fair mind shall be utterly crushed? Do the agonizedwords of appeal which rise to Thee from his riven soul fall brokenagainst ears of stone?

"Occupy till I come!" Yea, beloved Master, he hears thy voice andstrives to obey--but the night is filled with terror--the clouds oferror lower about him--the storm bursts--and thou art not there!

Day dawned. A classmate, sent to summon the lad, roused him from thefitful sleep into which he had sunk on the cold floor. His mind was nolonger active. Dumbly following his preceptors at the appointed hour, he proceeded with the class to the chapel. Dimly conscious of hissurroundings, his thought befogged as if in a dream, his eyeshalf-blinded by the gray haze which seemed to hang before them, hecelebrated the Mass, like one under hypnosis, received the holyorders, and assumed the obligations which constituted him a priest ofHoly Church. 

CHAPTER 8

On a sweltering midsummer afternoon, a year after the events justrelated, Rome lay panting for breath and counting the interminablehours which must elapse before the unpitying sun would grant her ashort night's respite from her discomfort. Her streets were desertedby all except those whose affairs necessitated their presence inthem. Her palaces and villas had been abandoned for weeks by theirfortunate owners, who had betaken themselves to the seashore or to themore distance resorts of the North. The few inexperienced touristswhose lack of practical knowledge in the matter of globe-trotting hadbrought them into the city so unseasonably were hastily andindignantly assembling their luggage and completing arrangements toflee from their over-warm reception. 

In a richly appointed suite of the city's most modern andultra-fashionable hotel two maids, a butler, and the head porter werepacking and removing a formidable array of trunks and suit cases, while a woman of considerably less than middle age, comely in personand tastefully attired in a loose dressing gown of flowered silk, alternated between giving sharp directions to the perspiring workersand venting her abundant wrath and disappointment upon the chiefclerk, as with evident reluctance she filled one of a number of signedchecks to cover the hotel expenses of herself and servants for aperiod of three weeks, although they had arrived only the day beforeand, on account of the stifling heat, were leaving on the nightexpress for Lucerne. The clerk regretted exceedingly, but on MadamAmes' order the suite had been held vacant for that length of time, during which the management had daily looked for her arrival, and hadreceived no word of her delay. Had Madam herself not just admittedthat she had altered her plans en route, without notifying the hotel, and had gone first to the Italian lakes, without cancelling her orderfor the suite? And so her sense of justice must convince her that themanagement was acting wholly within its rights in making this demand. 

While the preparations for departure were in progress the woman'stwo children played about the trunks and raced through the roomsand adjoining corridor with a child's indifference to climatalconditions. 

"Let's ring for the elevator and then hide, Sidney!" suggested thegirl, as she panted after her brother, who had run to the far end ofthe long hall. 

"No, Kathleen, it wouldn't be right, " objected the boy. 

"Right! Ho! ho! What's the harm, goody-goody? Go tell mother, if youwant to!" she called after him, as he started back to their rooms. Refusing to accompany him, the girl leaned against the balustrade of astairway which led to the floor below and watched her brother until hedisappeared around a turn of the corridor. 

"Baby!" burst from her pouting lips. "'Fraid of everything! It's nofun playing with him!" Then, casting a glance of inquiry about her, "I'd just like to hide down these stairs. Mother and nurse never letme go where I want to. "

Obeying the impulse stimulated by her freedom for the moment, thechild suddenly turned and darted down the stairway. On the floorbeneath she found herself at the head of a similar stairway, downwhich she likewise hurried, with no other thought than to annoy herbrother, who was sure to be sent in search of her when her motherdiscovered her absence. Opening the door below, the child unexpectedlyfound herself in an alley back of the hotel. 

Her sense of freedom was exhilarating. The sunlit alley beckoned to adelightful journey of discovery. With a happy laugh and a toss of heryellow curls she hurried along the narrow way and into the streetwhich crossed it a short distance beyond. Here she paused and lookedin each direction, uncertain which way to continue. In one direction, far in the distance, she saw trees. They looked promising; she wouldgo that way. And trotting along the blazing, deserted street, she atlength reached the grateful shade and threw herself on the soft grassbeneath, tired and panting, but happy in the excitement of her littleadventure. 

Recovering quickly, the child rose to explore her environment. She wasin one of those numerous public parks lining the Tiber and forming thecity's playground for her less fortunate wards. Here and there werescattered a few people, mostly men, who had braved the heat of thestreets in the hope of obtaining a breath of cool air near the water. At the river's edge a group of ragged urchins were romping noisily;and on a bench near them a young priest sat, writing in a notebook. Asshe walked toward them a beggar roused himself from the grass andlooked covetously through his evil eyes at the child's rich clothes. 

The gamins stopped their play as the girl approached, and stared ather in expectant curiosity. One of them, a girl of apparently her ownage, spoke to her, but in a language which she did not understand. Receiving no reply, the urchins suddenly closed together, and holdinghands, began to circle around her, shouting like little Indians. 

The child stood for a moment perplexed. Then terror seized her. Hurling herself through the circle, she fled blindly, with the gaminsin pursuit. With no sense of direction, her only thought to escapefrom the dirty band at her heels, she rushed straight to the river andover the low bank into the sluggish, yellow water. A moment later thepriest who had been sitting on the bench near the river, startled bythe frenzied cries of the now frightened children, rushed into theshallow water and brought the girl in safety to the bank. 

Speaking to her in her own language, the priest sought to soothe thechild and learn her identity as he carried her to the edge of the parkand out into the street. But his efforts were unavailing. She couldonly sob hysterically and call piteously for her mother. A civil guardappeared at the street corner, and the priest summoned him. Butscarcely had he reported the details of the accident when, suddenlyuttering a cry, the priest thrust the girl into the arms of theastonished officer and fled back to the bench where he had beensitting. Another cry escaped him when he reached it. Throwing himselfupon the grass, he searched beneath the bench and explored the groundabout it. Then, his face blanched with fear, he rose and traversed theentire park, questioning every occupant. The gamins who had caused theaccident had fled. The beggar, too, had disappeared. The park was allbut deserted. Returning again to the bench, the priest sank upon itand buried his head in his hands, groaning aloud. A few minutes laterhe abruptly rose and, glancing furtively around as if he feared to beseen, hastened out to the street. Then, darting into a narrowcrossroad, he disappeared in the direction of the Vatican. 

At midnight, Padre Josè de Rincón was still pacing the floor of hisroom, frantic with apprehension. At the same hour, the small girl whohad so unwittingly plunged him into the gravest danger was safelyasleep in her mother's arms on the night express, which shrieked andthundered on its way to Lucerne. 

CHAPTER 9

Always as a child Josè had been the tortured victim of a vague, unformed apprehension of impending disaster, a presentiment that someday a great evil would befall him. The danger before which he now grewwhite with fear seemed to realize that fatidic thought, and hangsuspended above him on a filament more tenuous than the hair whichheld aloft the fabled sword of Damocles. That filament was the slenderchance that the notebook with which he was occupied when the terrifiedchild precipitated herself into the river, and which he had hastilydropped on seeing her plight and rushing to the rescue, had beenpicked up by those who would consider its value _nil_ as an instrumentof either good or evil. Before the accident occurred he had beenabsorbed in his writing and was unaware of other occupants of the parkthan himself and the children, whose boisterous romping in such closeproximity had scarce interrupted his occupation. Then their frightenedcries roused him to an absorbing sense of the girl's danger. Nor didhe think again of the notebook until he was relating the details ofthe accident to the guard at the edge of the park, when, like a blowfrom above, the thought of it struck him. 

Trembling with dread anticipation, he had hurried back to the bench, only to find his fears realized. The book had disappeared! Hisfrenzied search yielded no hint of its probable mode of removal. Overcome by a sickening sense of misfortune, he had sunk upon thebench in despair. But fear again roused him and drove him, slinkinglike a hunted beast, from the park--fear that the possessor of thebook, appreciating its contents, but with no thought of returning it, might be hovering near, with the view of seeing what manner of priestit could be who would thus carelessly leave such writings as these inthe public parks and within the very shadow of St. Peter's. 

But to escape immediate identification as their author did not removehis danger. Their character was such that, should they fall intocertain hands, his identity must surely be established. Even thoughhis name did not appear, they abounded in references which couldhardly fail to point to him. But, far worse, they cited names ofpersonages high in political and ecclesiastical circles in referenceswhich, should they become public, must inevitably set in motion forceswhose far-reaching and disastrous effects he dared not even imagine. 

For the notebook contained the soul-history of the man. It wasthe _journal intime_ which he had begun as a youth, and continuedand amplified through succeeding years. It was the repository ofhis inmost thoughts, the receptacle of his secret convictions. It held, crystallized in writing, his earliest protests againstthe circumstances which were molding his life. It voiced thesubsequent agonized outpourings of his soul when the holy order ofpriesthood was conferred upon him. It recorded his views of life, of religion, of the cosmos. It held in burning words his thoughtsanent the Holy Catholic faith--his sense of its virtues, itsweaknesses, its assumptions, its fallacies. It set forth hisconfession of helplessness before circumstances too strong forhis feeble will, and it cited therewith, as partial justificationfor his conduct, his tender love for his mother and his firmintention of keeping forever inviolable his promises to her. Itvoiced his passionate prayers for light, and his dim hopes forthe future, while portraying the wreck of a life whose elementshad been too complex for him to sift and classify and combine intheir normal proportions. 

A year had passed since the unhappy lad had opened his mouth toreceive the iron bit which Destiny had pressed so mercilessly againstit. During that time the Church had conscientiously carried outher program as announced to him just prior to his ordination. Associated with the Papal Legate, he had traveled extensively throughEurope, his impressionable mind avidly absorbing the customs, languages, and thought-processes of many lands. At Lourdes he hadstood in deep meditation before the miraculous shrine, surroundedwith its piles of discarded canes and crutches, and wondered whatcould be the principle, human or divine, that had effected suchcures. In Naples he had witnessed the miraculous liquefaction ofthe blood of St. Januarius. He had seen the priests pass through thegreat assemblage with the little vial in which the red clot slowlydissolved into liquid before their credulous eyes; and he had turnedaway that they might not mark his flush of shame. In the Cathedral atCologne he had gazed long at the supposed skulls of the three Magi whohad worshipped at the rude cradle of the Christ. Set in brilliantjewels, in a resplendent gilded shrine, these whitened relics, which Bishop Reinald is believed to have discovered in the twelfthcentury, seemed to mock him in the very boldness of the pious fraudwhich they externalized. Was the mystery of the Christ involved insuch deceit as this? And perpetrated by his Church? In unhappy Irelandhe had been forced to the conviction that misdirected religious zealmust some day urge the sturdy Protesters of the North into armedconflict with their Catholic brothers of the South in another ofthose deplorable religious--nay, rather, _theological_--conflictswhich have stained the earth with human blood in the name of thePrince of Peace. It was all incomprehensible to him, incongruous, and damnably wicked. Why could not they come together to submit theircreeds, their religious beliefs and tenets, to the test of practicaldemonstration, and then discard those which world-history has longsince shown inimical to progress and happiness? Paul urged this verything when he wrote, "_Prove_ all things; hold fast to that which isgood. " But, alas! the human doctrine of infallibility now stoodsquarely in the way. 

From his travels with the Legate, Josè returned to Rome, burning withthe holy desire to lend his influence to the institution of thosereforms within the Church of which now he so clearly saw the need. Savonarola had burned with this same selfless desire to reform theChurch from within. And his life became the forfeit. But the presentage was perforce more tolerant; and was likewise wanting in thosepeculiar political conditions which had combined with the religiousissue to send the great reformer to a martyr's death. 

As Josè entered Rome he found the city in a state of turmoil. Theoccasion was the march of the Catholic gymnastic associations fromthe church where they had heard the Mass to St. Peter's, where theywere to be received by the Holy Father. Cries of "Long livefree-thinking!" were issuing from the rabble which followed hooting inthe wake of the procession. To these were retorted, "Viva il Papa Re!"Josè had been caught in the _mêlée_, and, but for the interference ofthe civil authorities, might have suffered bodily injury. With hiscorporeal bruises he now bore away another ineffaceable mentalimpression. Were the Italian patriots justified in their hostilitytoward the Vatican? Had United Italy come into existence with thesupport of the Papacy, or in despite of it? Would the Church foreverset herself against freedom of thought? Always seek to imprison thehuman mind? Was her unreasonably stubborn attitude directlyaccountable for the presence of atheism in the place, of all places, where her own influence ought to be most potent, the city of St. Peter?

For reasons which he could only surmise--perhaps because of his highscholarship--perhaps because of his remarkable memory, whichconstituted him a living encyclopedia in respect of all that enteredit--Josè was now installed in the office of the Papal Secretary ofState as an office assistant. He had received the appointment withindifference, for he was wholly devoid of ecclesiastical ambition. Andyet it was with a sense of relief that he now felt assured of a careerin the service of the Administrative Congregation of the Church, andfor all time removed from the likelihood of being relegated to theperformance of merely priestly functions. He therefore prepared tobide his time, and patiently to await opportunities to lend hiswilling support to the uplift of the Church and his fellow-men. 

The limitations with which he had always been hedged about had notpermitted the lad to know much, if anything, of the multitude of bookson religious and philosophical subjects annually published throughoutthe world; and his oath of obedience would have prevented him fromreading them if he had. But he saw no reason why, as part preparationfor his work of moral uplift, he should not continue to seek, at firsthand, the answer to the world-stirring query, What does the Biblemean? If God gave it, if the theory of verbal inspiration is correct, and if it is infallible, why then was it necessary to revise it, ashad been done in the wonderful Jerusalem Chamber which he had oncevisited? Were those of his associates justified who had scoffed atthat work, and, with a sneer on their lips, voiced the caustic query, "Fools! Why don't they let the Bible alone?" If the world is to beinstructed out of the old sensual theology, does the Bible contain thetruth with which to replace it? For to tear down an ideal withoutsubstituting for it a better one is nothing short of criminal. And soJosè plunged deeply into the study of Scriptural sources. 

He had thought the rich treasures of the Vatican library unrestrictedlyopen to him, and he therefore brought his fine Latin and Greekscholarship to bear on its oldest uncial manuscripts. He began the studyof Hebrew, that he might later read the Talmud and the ancient Jewishrabbinical lore. He pursued unflaggingly his studies of the English, French, and German languages, that he might search for the truthcrystallized in those tongues. As his work progressed, the flush ofhealth came to his cheeks. His eyes reflected the consuming fire whichglowed in his eager soul. As he labored, he wrote; and his discoveriesand meditations all found lodgment in his sole confidant, his journal. 

If the Church knew what Christianity was, then Josè was forced toadmit that he did not. He, weak, frail, fallible, _remit sins_?Preposterous! What was the true remission of sins but their utterdestruction? He change the wafer and wine into the flesh and bloodof Jesus? Nay, he was no spiritual thaumaturgus! He could not do eventhe least of the works of the Master, despite his priestly character!Yet, it was not he, but the Christ, operating through him as achannel, who performed the work. Then why did not the Christthrough him heal the sick and raise the dead? "Nay, " he deplored, as he bent over his task, "the Church may teach that the bones, theteeth, the hair, and other human relics of canonized Saints can healthe sick--but even the Cardinals and the Holy Father when they fallill demand the services, not of these, but of earthly physicians. They seek not the Christ-healing then; nor can they by their boastedpowers heal themselves. "

Israel's theme was: Righteousness is salvation. But Josè knew not howto define righteousness. Surely it did not mean adherence to humancreeds! It was vastly more than observance of forms! "God is aspirit, " he read; "and they that worship Him must worship Him inspirit and in truth. " Then, voicing his own comments, "Why, then, thiscrass materializing of worship? Are images of Saviour, Virgin, andSaint necessary to excite the people to devotion? Nay, would not thehealing of the sick, the restoration of sight to the blind, and theperformance of the works of the Master by us priests do more thanwooden or marble images to lead men to worship? Proof! proof! proof!'Show us your works, and we will show you our faith, ' cry the people. 'Then will we no longer sacrifice our independence of thought to themerciless tyranny of human tradition. '" And he knew that this relatedto Catholic and Protestant, Jew and Mohammedan alike. 

One day a Cardinal, passing through the library, saw the diligentstudent at work, and paused to inquire into his labors. "And what doyou seek, my son?" was the kindly query of the aged churchman. 

"Scriptural justification for the fundamental tenets of our faith, "Josè replied quickly, carried away by his soul's animation. 

"And you find it, without doubt?"

"Nay, Father, except through what is, to me, unwarranted license andassumption. "

The Cardinal silently continued his way. But permission to translatefurther from the Vatican manuscripts was that day withdrawn fromJosè. 

Again the youth lapsed into his former habit of moody revery. Shackledand restless, driven anew into himself, he increasingly poured histurbulent thought into his journal, not for other and profane eyes toread--hardly, either, for his own reference--but simply because he_must_ have some outlet for the expression of his heaving mind. Heturned to it, as he had in other crises in his life, when his pentsoul cried out for some form of relief. He began to revise the recordof the impressions received on his travels with the Papal Legate. Herecorded conversations and impressions of scenes and people which hisabnormally developed reticence would not permit him to discussverbally with his associates. He embodied his protests against therestrictions of ecclesiastical authority. And he noted, too, many aprotest against the political, rather than religious, character ofmuch of the business transacted in the office to which he wasattached. In the discharge of his ordinary duties he necessarilybecame acquainted with much of the inner administrative polity of theVatican, and thus at times he learned of policies which stirred hisalien soul to revolt. In his inferior position he could not hope toraise his voice in protest against these measures which excited hisindignation; but in the loneliness of his room, or on his frequentlong walks after office hours, he was wont to brood over them untilhis mind became surcharged and found relief only in emptying itselfinto this journal. And often on summer days, when the intense heatrendered his little room in the dormitory uninhabitable, he would takehis books and papers to some one of the smaller parks lining theTiber, and there would lose himself in study and meditation and therecording of the ceaseless voicing of his lonely soul. 

On this particular afternoon, however, his mind had been occupied withmatters of more than ordinary import. It happened that a Bishop fromthe United States had arrived in Rome the preceding day to pay hisdecennial visit to the Vatican and report on the spiritual conditionof his diocese. While awaiting the return of the Papal Secretary, hehad engaged in earnest conversation with a Cardinal-Bishop of theAdministrative Congregation, in a small room adjoining the one whereJosè was occupied with his clerical duties. The talk had beenanimated, and the heavy tapestry at the door had not prevented much ofit from reaching the ears of the young priest and becoming fixed inhis retentive memory. 

"While I feel most keenly the persecution to which the Church mustsubmit in the United States, " the Bishop had said, "neverthelessYour Eminence will admit that there is some ground for complaint inthe conduct of certain of her clergy. It is for the purpose ofremoving such vantage ground from our critics that I again urge aninvestigation of American priests, with the view of improving theirmoral status. "

"You say, 'persecution to which the Church _must_ submit. ' Is thatquite true?" returned the Cardinal-Bishop. "That is, in the face ofyour own gratifying reports? News from the American field is not onlyencouraging, but highly stimulating. The statistics which are just athand from Monsignor, our Delegate in Washington, reveal the trulyastonishing growth of our beloved cause for the restoration of allthings in Christ. Has not God shown even in our beloved America thatour way of worshiping Him is the way He approves?"

"But, Your Eminence, the constant defections! It was only last weekthat a priest and his entire congregation went over to the Episcopalfaith. And--"

"What of that? 'It must needs be that offenses come. ' Where one dropsout, ten take his place. "

"True, while we recruit our depleted ranks from the Old World. But, with restricted immigration--"

"Which is not restricted, as yet, " replied the Cardinal-Bishop with asapient smile. "Nor is there any restriction upon the inspiration, political as well as spiritual, which the American Government drawsfrom Rome--an inspiration much more potent, I think, than ourProtestant brethren would care to admit. "

"Is that inspiration such, think you, as to draw the AmericanGovernment more and more into the hands of the Church?"

"Its effect in the past unquestionably has been such, " said theCardinal-Bishop meditatively. 

"And shall our dreams of an age be fulfilled--that the Holy Fatherwill throw off the shackles which now hold him a prisoner within theVatican, and that he will then personally direct the carrying out ofthose policies of world expansion which shall gather all mankind intothe fold of Holy Church?"

"There is a lessening doubt of it, " was the tentative reply. 

"And--" the Bishop hesitated. "And--shall we say that thoseall-embracing policies ultimately will be directed by the Holy Fatherfrom Washington itself?"

A long pause ensued, during which Josè was all ears. 

"Why not?" finally returned the Cardinal-Bishop slowly. "Why not, ifit should better suit our purposes? It may become advisable to removethe Holy See from Rome. "

"But--impossible!"

"Not at all--quite possible, though I will not say probable. But letus see, can we not say that the time has arrived when no President ofthe United States can be elected without the Catholic vote? Having ourvote, we have his pledges to support our policies. These statisticsbefore us show that already seventy-five per cent of all Governmentemployes in Washington are of our faith. We control Federal, State, County and City offices without number. I think--I think the time isnot distant when we shall be able to set up a candidate of our faithfor the Presidency, if we care to. And, " he mused, "we shall electhim. But, all in good time, all in good time. "

"And is that, " the Bishop interrogated eagerly, "what the Holy Fatheris now contemplating?"

"I cannot say that it is, " answered the noncommittal Cardinal-Bishop. "But the Holy Father loves America. He rejoices in your report ofprogress in your diocese. The successes attained by Catholiccandidates in the recent elections are most gratifying to him. Thisnot only testifies to the progress of Catholicism in America, but istangible proof of the growth of tolerance and liberal-mindedness inthat great nation. The fact that the Catholic Mass is now being saidin the American army affords further proof. "

"Yes, " meditated the Bishop. "Our candidates who receive election arequite generally loyal to the Church. "

"And should constitute a most potent factor in the holy work of makingAmerica dominantly Catholic, " added the older man. 

"True, Your Eminence. And yet, this great desideratum can never comeabout until the youth are brought into the true fold. And that means, as you well know, the abolishing of the public school system. "

"What think you of that?" asked the Cardinal-Bishop off-handedly. 

The Bishop waxed suddenly animated. A subject had been broached whichlay close to his heart. "The public schools constitute a godless sinkof pollution!" he replied heatedly. "They are nurseries of vice! Theyare part of an immoral and vicious system of education which isundermining the religion of American children! I have always contendedthat we, the Holy Catholic Church, _must_ control education! I holdthat education outside of the Church is heresy of the most damnablekind! We have heretofore weakly protested against this pernicioussystem, but without success, excepting"--and here he smiledcynically--"that we have very generally succeeded in forcing thediscontinuance of Bible reading in the public schools. And in certaintowns where our parochial schools do not instruct beyond the eighthgrade, it looks as if we might force the introduction of a form of theCatholic Mass to be read each morning in the High School. "

"Excellent!" exclaimed the Cardinal-Bishop. "Your voice thrills melike a trumpet call. "

"I would it were such, " cried the Bishop excitedly, "summoning thefaithful to strike a blow which shall be felt! What right have theUnited States, or any nation, to educate the young? None whatever!Education belongs to the Church! Our rights in this respect have beenusurped! But they shall be restored--if need be, at the point ofthe--"

"You positively make my old heart leap to the fray, " interrupted thesmiling, white-haired churchman. "But I feel assured that we shallaccomplish just that without violence or bloodshed, my son. You echomy sentiments exactly on the pregnant question. And yet, by gettingCatholics employed in the public schools as teachers, and by electingour candidates to public offices, we quietly accomplish our ends, dowe not?"

"But when will the Holy Father recognize the time as propitious for amore decisive step in that respect?"

"Why, my son, I think you fail to see that we keep continuallystepping. We are growing by leaps and bounds in America. At the closeof the War of Independence the United States numbered some forty-fivethousand adherents to the Catholic faith. Now the number has increasedto twelve or fifteen millions. Of these, some four millions arevoters. A goodly number, is it not?"

"Then, " cried the Bishop, "let the Holy Father boldly make the demandthat the States appropriate money for the support of our parochialschools!"

Josè's ears throbbed. Before his ordination he had heard the Liturgyfor the conversion of America recited in the chapel of the seminary. And as often he had sought to picture the condition of the New Worldunder the religio-political influence which has for centuriesdominated the Old. But he had always dismissed the idea of suchdomination as wholly improbable, if not quite impossible in America. Yet, since coming into the Papal Secretary's office, his views wereslowly undergoing revision. The Church was concentrating on America. Of that there could be no doubt. Indeed, he had come to believe itssuccess as a future world-power to be a function of the stand which itcould secure and maintain in the United States. Now, as he strainedhis ears, he could hear the aged Cardinal-Bishop's low, tense words--

"There can be no real separation of Church and State. The Church is_not_ inferior to the civil power, nor is it in any way dependentupon it. And the Church can never be excluded from educating andtraining the young, from molding society, from making laws, andgoverning, temporally and spiritually. From this attitude we shall_never_ depart! Ours is the only true religion. England and Germanyhave been spiritually dead. But, praise to the blessed Virgin whohas heard our prayers and made intercession for us, England, afterlong centuries of struggle with man-made sects and indefinite dogma, its spiritually-starving people fast drifting into atheism andinfidelity because of nothing to hold to, has awakened, and in thesefirst hours of her resurrection is fast returning to the HolyChurch of Rome. America, in these latter days, is rousing from theblight of Puritanism, Protestantism, and their inevitable result, free-thinking and anarchy, and is becoming the brightest jewel inthe Papal crown. "

The Bishop smiled dubiously. "And yet, Your Eminence, " he replied, "weare heralded from one end of the land to the other as a menace toRepublican institutions. "

"Ah, true. And you must agree that Romanism is a distinct menace tothe insane license of speech and press. It is a decided menace to theinsanity of Protestantism. But, " he added archly, while his eyestwinkled, "I have no doubt that when Catholic education has advanced alittle further many of your American preachers, editors, andChautauqua demagogues will find themselves behind the bars ofmadhouses. Fortunately, that editor of the prominent American magazineof which you were speaking switched from his heretic Episcopal faithin time to avoid this unpleasant consequence. "

The Bishop reflected for a moment. Then, deliberately, as ifmeditating the great import of his words, "Your Eminence, in view ofour strength, and our impregnable position as God's chosen, cannot theHoly Father insist that the United States mails be barred against theinfamous publications that so basely vilify our Church?"

"And thereby precipitate a revolution?" It was the firm voice of thePapal Secretary himself, who at that moment entered the room. 

"But, Monsignor, " said the Bishop, as he rose and saluted thenewcomer, "how much longer must we submit to the gross injustice andindignities practiced upon us by non-believers?"

"As long as the infallible Holy Father directs, " replied that eminentpersonage. "Obey him, as you would God himself, " the Secretarycontinued. "And teach your flock to do likewise. The ballot will dofor us in America what armed resistance never could. Listen, friend, my finger is on the religious pulse of the world. Nowhere does thispulse beat as strongly as in that part which we call the UnitedStates. For years I have been watching the various contending forcesin that country, diligently and earnestly studying the elements actingand reacting upon our Church there. I have come to the conclusion thatthe success of Holy Church throughout the world depends upon itsadvance in the United States during the next few years. I have becomean American enthusiast! The glorious work of making America Catholicis so fraught with consequences of vastest import that my blood surgeswith the enthusiasm of an old Crusader! But there is much still to bedone. America is a field white for the harvest, almost unobstructed. "

"Then, " queried the Bishop, "you do not reckon Protestantism anobstruction?"

"Protestantism!" the Secretary rejoined with a cynical laugh. "No, Ireckon it as nothing. Protestantism in America is decadent. It hassplit, divided, and disintegrated, until it is scarcely recognizable. Its adherents are falling away in great numbers. Its weak tenets andsenile faith hold but comparatively few and lukewarm supporters. Ithas degenerated into a sort of social organization, with musicals, pink teas, and church suppers as attractions. No, America is _bound_to be classed as a Catholic nation--and I expect to live to see itthus. Our material and spiritual progress in the United States isamazing, showing how nobly American Catholics have responded to theHoly Father's appeal. New dioceses are springing up everywhere. Churches are multiplying with astonishing rapidity. The discouragingoutlook in Europe is more, far more, than counterbalanced by ourwonderful progress in the United States. We might say that theVatican now rests upon American backs, for the United States sendmore Peter's Pence to Rome than all other Catholic countriestogether. We practically control her polls and her press. America wasdiscovered by Christopher Columbus, a Catholic in the service of aCatholic ruler. It is Catholic in essence, and it shall so berecognized! The Holy Catholic Church always has been and always willbe the sole and _only_ Christian authority. The Catholic religion byrights ought to be, and ultimately shall be, the exclusivelydominant religion of the world, and every other sort of worship shallbe banished--interdicted--destroyed!"

For a while Josè heard no more. His ears burned and his brainthrobbed. He had become conscious of but one all-absorbing thought, the fact of his vassalage to a world-embracing political system, working in the name of the Christ. Not a new thought, by anymeans--indeed an old one, often held--but now driven home to him mostemphatically. He forgot his clerical duties and sank into profoundrevery on his inconsistent position in the office of the highestfunctionary of Holy Church aside from the Supreme Pontiff himself. 

He was aroused at length from his meditations by the departure of theAmerican Bishop. "It is true, as you report, " the Papal Secretary wassaying earnestly. "America seems rife with modernism. Free-masonry, socialism, and countless other fads and religious superstitions arewidely prevalent there. Nor do I underestimate their strength andinfluence. And yet, I fear them not. There are also certain freakreligions, philosophical beliefs, wrung from the simple teachings ofour blessed Saviour, the rapid spread of which at one time did give mesome concern. The Holy Father mentioned one or two of them to-day, inreference to his contemplated encyclical on modernism. But I now seethat they are cults based upon human personality; and with theirleaders removed, the fabrics will of themselves crumble. "

He took leave of the Bishop, and turned again to address theCardinal-Bishop within. "A matter of the gravest import has arisen, "he began in a low voice; "and one that may directly affect ournegotiations in regard to the support which the Holy Father will needin case he issues a _pronunciamento_ that France, Spain, and Austriashall no longer exercise the right of veto in papal elections. Thatrumor regarding Isabella's daughter is again afloat. I have summonedFather Rafaél de Rincón to Rome to state what he knows. But--" He roseand looked out through the door at Josè, bending over his littereddesk. Then he went back, and resumed his conversation with theCardinal-Bishop, but in a tone so low that Josè could catch onlydisconnected scraps. 

"What, Colombia?" he at length heard the Cardinal-Bishop exclaim. 

"Yes, " was the Secretary's reply. "And presumably at the instigationof that busybody, Wenceslas Ortiz. Though what concern he might havein the _Infanta_ is to me incomprehensible--assuming, of course, thatthere is such a royal daughter. "

"But--Colombia elects a President soon, is it not so?"

"On the eve of election now, " replied the Secretary. "And if theinfluence of Wenceslas with the Bishop of Cartagena is what I amalmost forced to admit that it is, then the election is in his hands. But, the _Infanta_--" The sound of his voice did not carry the rest ofhis words to Josè's itching ears. 

An hour later the Secretary and the Cardinal-Bishop came out of theroom and left the office together. "Yes, " the Secretary was saying, "in the case of Wenceslas it was 'pull and percuniam' that secured himhis place. The Church did not put him there. "

The Cardinal-Bishop laughed genially. "Then the Holy Ghost was notconsulted, I take it, " he said. 

"No, " replied the Secretary grimly. "And he has so complicated thealready delicate situation in Colombia that I fear Congress will tablethe bill prohibiting Free-masonry. It is to be deplored. Among all theLatin Republics none has been more thoroughly Catholic thanColombia. "

"Is the Holy Father's unpublished order regarding the sale anddistribution of Bibles loyally observed there?" queried theCardinal-Bishop. 

The door closed upon them and Josè heard no more. His day's dutiesended, he went to his room to write and reflect. But the intenseafternoon heat again drove him forth to seek what comfort he mightnear the river. With his notebook in hand he went to the little park, as was his frequent wont. An hour or so later, while he was jottingdown his remembrance of the conversation just overheard, together withhis own caustic and protesting opinions, his absorption was broken bythe strange child's accident. A few minutes later the notebook haddisappeared. 

And now the thought of all this medley of personal material and secretmatters of Church polity falling into the hands of those who mightmake capital of it, and thereby drag the Rincón honor through themire, cast the man prostrate in the dust. 

CHAPTER 10

Days passed--days whose every dawn found the priest staring insleepless, wide-eyed terror at the ceiling above--days crowded withtorturing apprehension and sickening suggestion--days when his kneesquaked and his hands shook when his superiors addressed him in theperformance of his customary duties. No mental picture was toofrightful or abhorrent for him to entertain as portraying a possibleconsequence of the loss of his journal. He cowered in agony beforethese visions. He dared not seek the little park again. He feared toshow himself in the streets. He dreaded the short walk from hisdormitory to the Vatican. His life became a sustained torture--aconsuming agony of uncertainty, interminable suspense, fearfulforeboding. The cruelty of his position corroded him. His healthsuffered, and his cassock hung like a bag about his emaciated form. 

Then the filament snapped and the sword fell. On a dismal, rainymorning, some two months after the incident in the park, Josè wassummoned into the private office of the Papal Secretary of State. Asthe priest entered the small room the Secretary, sitting alone at hisdesk, turned and looked at him long and fixedly. 

"So, my son, " he said in a voice that froze the priest's blood, "youare still alive?" Then, taking up a paper-covered book of medium sizewhich apparently he had been reading, he held it out without comment. 

Josè took it mechanically. The book was crudely printed and showedevidence of having been hastily issued. It came from the press of aViennese publisher, and bore the startling title, "Confessions of aRoman Catholic Priest. " As in a dream Josè opened it. A cry escapedhim, and the book fell from his hands. _It was his journal!_

There are sometimes crises in human lives when the storm-spent mind, tossing on the waves of heaving emotion, tugs and strains at the tieswhich moor it to reason, until they snap, and it sweeps out into theunknown, where blackness and terror rage above the fathomless deep. Such a crisis had entered the life of the unhappy priest, who now heldin his shaking hand the garbled publication of his life's most sacredthoughts. Into whose hands his notes had fallen on that black day whenhe had sacrificed everything for an unknown child, he knew not. Howthey had made their way into Austria, and into the pressroom of theheretical modernist who had gleefully issued them, twisted, exaggerated, but unabridged, he might not even imagine. The terriblefact remained that there in his hands they stared up at him in hideousmockery, his soul-convictions, his heart's deepest and most inviolablethoughts, details of his own personal history, secrets of state--allruthlessly exposed to the world's vulgar curiosity and the rapacity ofthose who would not fail to play them up to the certain advantages towhich they lent themselves all too well. 

And there before him, too, were the Secretary's sharp eyes, burninginto his very soul. He essayed to speak, to rise to his own defense. But his throat filled, and the words which he would utter died on histrembling lips. The room whirled about him. Floods of memory began tosweep over him in huge billows. The conflicting forces which hadculminated in placing him in the paradoxical position in which he nowstood raced before him in confused review. Objects lost their definiteoutlines and melted into the haze which rose before his strainingeyes. All things at last merged into the terrible presence of thePapal Secretary, as he slowly rose, tall and gaunt, and with armextended and long, bony finger pointing to the yellow river in thedistance, said in words whose cruel suggestion scorched the raw soulof the suffering priest:

"My son, be advised: the Tiber covers many sins. "

Then pitying oblivion opened wide her arms, and the tired priest sankgently into them. 

CHAPTER 11

Rome again lay scorching beneath a merciless summer sun. But theenergetic uncle of Josè was not thereby restrained from making anotherhurried visit to the Vatican. What his mission was does not appear inpapal records; but, like the one which he found occasion to make justprior to the ordination of his nephew, this visit was not extended toinclude Josè, who throughout that enervating summer lay tossing indelirium in the great hospital of the Santo Spirito. We may be sure, however, that its influence upon the disposition of the priest's caseafter the recent _dénoûement_ was not inconsiderable, and that it waslargely responsible for his presence before the Holy Father himselfwhen, after weeks of racking fever, wan and emaciated, and leaningupon the arm of the confidential valet of His Holiness, the youngpriest faced that august personage and heard the infallible judgmentof the Holy See upon his unfortunate conduct. 

On the throne of St. Peter, in the heavily tapestried private audienceroom of the great Vatican prison-palace, and guarded from intrusion byarmed soldiery and hosts of watchful ecclesiastics of all grades, satthe Infallible Council, the Vicar-General of the humble Nazarene, theaged leader at whose beck a hundred million faithful followers bent inlowly genuflection. Near him stood the Papal Secretary of State andtwo Cardinal-Bishops of the Administrative Congregation. 

Josè dragged himself wearily before the Supreme Pontiff and bent low. 

"_Benedicite_, my erring son. " The soft voice of His Holiness floatednot unmusically through the tense silence of the room. 

"Arise. The hand of the Lord already has been laid heavily upon you inwholesome chastening for your part in this deplorable affair. And thesame omnipotent hand has been stretched forth to prevent the banefuleffects of your thoughtless conduct. We do not condemn you, my son. Itwas the work of the Evil One, who has ever found through yourweaknesses easy access to your soul. "

Josè raised his blurred eyes and gazed at the Holy Father in perplexedastonishment. But the genial countenance of the patriarch seemed toconfirm his mild words. A smile, tender and patronizing, in which Josèread forgiveness--and yet with it a certain undefined something whichaugured conditions upon which alone penalty for his culpability wouldbe remitted--lighted up the pale features of the Holy Father andwarmed the frozen life-currents of the shrinking priest. 

"My son, " the Pontiff continued tenderly, "our love for our wanderingchildren is but stimulated by their need of our protecting care. Fearnot; the guilty publisher of your notes has been awakened to hisfault, and the book which he so thoughtlessly issued has been quitesuppressed. "

Josè bent his head and patiently awaited the conclusion. 

"You have lain for weeks at death's door, my son. The words which youuttered in your delirium corroborated our own thought of yourinnocence of intentional wrong. And now that you have regained yourreason, you will confess to us that your reports, and especially youraccount of the recent conversation between the Cardinal-Secretary ofState and the Cardinal-Bishop, were written under that depression ofmind which has long afflicted you, producing a form of mentalderangement, and giving rise to frequent hallucination. It is thiswhich has caused us to extend to you our sympathy and protection. Longand intense study, family sorrow, and certain inherited traits ofdisposition, whose rapid development have tended to lack of normalmental balance, account to us for those deeds of eccentricity on yourpart which have plunged us into extreme embarrassment and yourselfinto the illness which threatened your young life. Is it not so, myson?"

The priest stared up at the speaker in bewilderment. This unexpectedturn of affairs had swept his defense from his mind. 

"The Holy Father awaits your reply, " the Papal Secretary spoke withseverity. His own thought had been greatly ruffled that morning, andhis patience severely taxed by a threatened mutiny among the Swissguards, whose demands in regard to the quantity of wine allowed themand whose memorial recounting other alleged grievances he had justflatly rejected. The muffled cries of "_Viva Garibaldi!_" as thepetitioners left his presence were still echoing in the Secretary'sears, and his anger had scarce begun to cool. 

"We are patient, my Cardinal-Nephew, " the Pontiff resumed mildly. "Ourlove for this erring son enfolds him. " Then, turning again to Josè, "We have correctly summarized the causes of your recent conduct, havewe not?"

The priest made as if to reply, but hesitated, with the wordsfluttering on his lips. 

"My dear son"--the Holy Father bent toward the wondering priest in anattitude of loving solicitation--"our blessed Saviour was ofttimesconfronted with those possessed of demons. Did he reject them? No;and, despite the accusations against us in your writings, for which weknow you were not morally responsible, we, Christ's representative onearth, are still touched with his love and pity for one so unfortunateas you. With your help we shall stop the mouths of calumny, and setyou right before the world. We shall use our great resources to savethe Rincón honor which, through the working of Satan within you, isnow unjustly besmirched. We shall labor to restore you to your rightmind, and to the usefulness which your scholarly gifts make possibleto you. We indeed rejoice that your piteous appeal has reached ourears. We rejoice to correct those erroneous views which you, in thetemporary aberration of reason, were driven to commit to writing, andwhich so unfortunately fell into the hands of Satan's alertemissaries. Your ravings during these weeks of delirium shed muchlight upon the obsessing thoughts which plunged you into mildinsanity. And they have stirred the immeasurable depths of pity withinus. "

The Holy Father paused after this unwontedly long speech. A dumb senseof stupefaction seemed to possess the priest, and he passed hisshrunken hands before his eyes as if he would brush away a mist. 

"That this unfortunate book is but the uttering of delirium, we havealready announced to the world, " His Holiness gently continued. "Butout of our deep love for a family which has supplied so manyillustrious sons to our beloved Church we have suppressed mention ofyour name in connection therewith. "

The priest started, as he vaguely sensed the impending issue. What wasit that His Holiness was about to demand? That he denounce hisjournal, over his own signature, as the ravings of a man temporarilyinsane? He was well aware that the Vatican's mere denial of theallegations therein contained, and its attributing of them to a madpriest, would scarcely carry conviction to the Courts of Spain andAustria, or to an astonished world. But, for him to declare them thegarbled and unauthentic utterances of an aberrant mind, and to makepublic such statement in his own name, would save the situation, possibly the Rincón honor, even though it stultify his own. 

His Holiness waited a few moments for the priest's reply; butreceiving none, he continued with deep significance:

"You will not make it necessary, we know, for us to announce that amad priest, a son of the house of Rincón, now confined in an asylum, voiced these heretical and treasonable utterances. "

The voice of His Holiness flowed like cadences of softest music, charming in its tenderness, winning in its appeal, but momentous inits certain implication. 

"In our solicitude for your recovery we commanded our own physiciansto attend you. To them you owe your life. To them, too, we owe ourgratitude for that report on your case which reveals the true natureof the malady afflicting you. "

The low voice vibrated in rhythmic waves through the dead silence ofthe room. 

"To them also you now owe this opportunity to abjure the writingswhich have caused us and yourself such great sorrow; to them you owethis privilege of confessing before us, who will receive yourrecantation, remit your unintentional sins, and restore you to honorand service in our beloved Church. "

Josè suddenly came to himself. Recant! Confess! In God's name, what?Abjure his writings, the convictions of a lifetime!

"These writings, my son, are not your sane and rational convictions, "the Pontiff suggested. 

Josè still stood mute before him. 

"You renounce them now, in the clear light of restored reason; and youswear future lealty to us and to Holy Church, " the aged Fathercontinued. 

"Make answer!" commanded one of the Cardinal-Bishops, starting towardthe wavering priest. "Down on your knees before the Holy Father, whowaits to forgive your venial sin!"

Josè turned swiftly to the approaching Cardinal and held up a hand. The man stopped short. The Pontiff and his associates bent forward ineager anticipation. The valet fell back, and Josè stood alone. In thattense mental atmosphere the shrinking priest seemed to be transformedinto a Daniel. 

"No, Holy Father, you mistake!" His voice rang through the room like aclarion. "I do not recant! My writings _do_ express my deepest andsanest convictions!"

The Pontiff's pallid face went dark. The eyes of the other auditorsbulged with astonishment. A dumb spell settled over the room. 

"Father, my guilt lies not in having recorded my honest convictions, nor in the fact that these records fell into the hands of those whoeagerly grasp every opportunity to attack their common enemy, theChurch. It lies rather in my weak resistance to those influences whichin early life combined to force upon me a career to which I was bytemperament and instinct utterly disinclined. It lies in my havingsacrificed myself to the selfish love of my mother and my ownexaggerated sense of family pride. It lies in my still remainingoutwardly a priest of the Catholic faith, when every fiber of my soulrevolts against the hypocrisy!"

"You are a subject of the Church!" the Papal Secretary interrupted. "You have sworn to her and to the Sovereign Pontiff as loyal andunquestioning obedience as to the will of God himself!"

Josè turned upon him. "Before my ordination, " he cried, "I was avoluntary subject of the Sovereign of Spain. Did that ceremony renderme an unwilling subject of the Holy Father? Does the ceremony ofordination constitute the Romanizing of Spain? No, I am not a subjectof Rome, but of my conscience!"

Another dead pause followed, in which for some moments nothingdisturbed the oppressive silence. Josè looked eagerly into thedelicate features of the living Head of the Church. Then, withdecreased ardor, and in a voice tinged with pathos, he continued:

"Father, my mistakes have been only such as are natural to one ofmy peculiar character. I came to know, but too late, that mylife-motives, though pure, found not in me the will for theirdirection. I became a tool in the hands of those stronger thanmyself. For what ultimate purpose, I know not. Of this only am Icertain, that my mother's ambitions, though selfish, were the onlypure motives among those which united to force the order ofpriesthood upon me. "

"Force!" burst in one of the Cardinal-Bishops. "Do you assume to makethe Holy Father believe that the priesthood can be _forced_ upon aman? You assumed it willingly, gladly, as was your proper return forthe benefits which the Mother Church had bestowed upon you!"

"In a state of utmost confusion, bordering a mental breakdown, Iassumed it--outwardly, " returned the priest sadly, "but my heart neverceased to reject it. Once ordained, however, I sought in my feeble wayto study the needs of the Church, and prepare myself to assist in theinauguration of reforms which I felt she must some day undertake. "

The Pontiff's features twitched with ill-concealed irritation at thisconfession; but before he could speak Josè continued:

"Oh, Father, and Cardinal-Princes of the Church, does not the need ofyour people for truth wring your hearts? Turn from your zealous dreamsof world-conquest and see them, steeped in ignorance and superstition, wretched with poverty, war, and crime, extending their hands to you astheir spiritual leaders--to you, Holy Father, who should be theirMoses, to smite the rock of error, that the living, saving truth maygush out!"

He paused, as if fearful of his own rushing thought. Then: "Is not thepast fraught with lessons of deepest import to us? Is not the Churchbeing rejected by the nations of Europe because of our intolerance, our oppression, our stubborn clinging to broken idols and effete formsof faith? We are now turning from the wreckage which the Church haswrought in the Old World, and our eyes are upon America. But can wedeceive ourselves that free, liberty-loving America will bow her neckto the mediaeval yoke which the Church would impose upon her? Why, oh, why cannot we see the Church's tremendous opportunities for good inthis century, and yield to that inevitable mental and moralprogression which must sweep her from her foundations, unless sheconform to its requirements and join in the movement toward universalemancipation! Our people are taught from childhood to be led; they arewilling followers--none more willing in the world! But why lead theminto the pit? Why muzzle them with fear, oppress them with threats, fetter them with outworn dogma and dead creed? Why continue to dazzlethem with pagan ceremonialism and oriental glamour, and then, ourexactions wrung from them, leave them to consume with disease anddecay with moral contagion?"

"The man is mad with heresy!" muttered the Pontiff, turning to theCardinal-Bishops. 

"No, it is not I who is mad with heresy, but the Holy Church, of whichyou are the spiritual Head!" cried the priest, his loud voicetrembling with indignation and his frail body swaying under hisrapidly growing excitement. "She is guilty of the damnable heresyof concealing knowledge, of hiding truth, of stifling honestquestionings! She is guilty of grossest intolerance, of deadliesthatred, of impurest motives--she, the self-constituted, self-endowedspiritual guide of mankind, arrogating to herself infallibility, superiority, supreme authority--yea, the very voice of God himself!"

The priest had now lost all sense of environment, and his voice waxedlouder as he continued:

"The conduct of the Church throughout the centuries has made herthe laughing-stock of history, an object of ridicule to every manof education and sense! She is filled with superstition--do you notknow it? She is permeated with pagan idolatry, fetishism, andcarnal-mindedness! She is pitiably ignorant of the real teachings ofthe Christ! Her dogmas have been formed by the subtle wits of Churchtheologians. They are in this century as childish as her politicaland social schemes are mischievous! Why have we formulated ourdoctrine of purgatory? Why so solicitous about souls in purgatorialtorment, and yet so careless of them while still on earth? Where isour justification for the doctrine of infallibility? Is liberty tothink the concession of God, or of the Holy Father? Where, oh, where is the divine Christ in our system of theology? Is he to befound in materialism, intolerance, the burning of Bibles, inhatred of so-called heretics, and in worldly practices? Are we notkeeping the Christ in the sepulcher, refusing to permit him toarise?"

His speech soared into the impassioned energy of thundered denunciation. 

"Yes, Holy Father, and Cardinal-Bishops, I _am_ justified incriticizing the Holy Catholic Church! And I am likewise justified incondemning the Protestant Church! All have fallen woefully short ofthe glory of God, and none obeys the simple commands of the Christ. The Church throughout the world has become secularized, and worship isbut hollow consistency in the strict performance of outward acts ofdevotion. Our religion is but a hypocritical show of conformity. Ourasylums, our hospitals, our institutions of charity? Alas! they butevidence our woeful shortcoming, and our persistent refusal to riseinto the strength of the healing, saving Christ, which would renderthese obsolete institutions unnecessary in the world of to-day! TheHoly Catholic Church is but a human institution. Its worldliness, itsscheming, its political machinations, make me shudder--!"

"Stop, madman!" thundered one of the Cardinal-Bishops, rushing uponthe frail Josè with such force as to fell him to the floor. ThePontiff had risen, and sunk again into his chair. The valet hurried tohis assistance. The Papal Secretary, his face contorted with rage, andhis throat choking with the press of words which he strove to utter, hastened to the door to summon help. "Remove this man!" he commanded, pointing out the prostrate form of Josè to the two Swiss guards whohad responded to his call. "Confine him! He is violent--a ragingmaniac!"

A few days later, Padre Josè de Rincón, having been pronounced by theVatican physicians mentally deranged, as the result of acute cerebralanaemia, was quietly conveyed to a sequestered monastery atPalazzola. 

 * * * * *

Two summers came, and fled again before the chill winds which blewfrom the Alban hills. Then one day Josè's uncle appeared at themonastery door with a written order from His Holiness, effecting thepriest's conditional release. Together they journeyed at once toSeville, the uncle alert and energetic as ever, showing but slighttrace of time's devastating hand; Josè, the shadow of his former selfphysically, and his mind clouded with the somber pall of melancholia. 

Toward the close of a quiet summer, spent with his mother in hisboyhood home, Josè received from his uncle's hand another letter, bearing the papal insignia. It was evident that it was not unexpected, for it found the priest with his effects packed and ready for aconsiderable journey. A hurried farewell to his mother, and thelife-weary Josè, combining innocence and misery in exaggeratedproportions, and still a vassal of Rome, set out for the port ofCadiz. There, in company with the Apostolic Delegate and EnvoyExtraordinary to the Republic of Colombia, he embarked on the WestIndian trader Sarnia, bound for Cartagena, in the New World. 

CHAPTER 12

There is no region in the Western Hemisphere more invested with thespirit of romance and adventure than that strip of Caribbean coaststretching from the Cape of Yucatan to the delta of the Orinoco andknown as the Spanish Main. No more superb setting could have beenchosen for the opening scenes of the New World drama. Skies of profoundestblue--the tropical sun flaming through massive clouds of vapor--a seaof exuberant color, foaming white over coral beaches--waving cocoapalms against a background of exotic verdure marking a tortuous shoreline, which now rises sheer and precipitous from the water's edge todizzy, snowcapped, cloud-hung heights, now stretches away into vastreaches of oozy mangrove bog and dank cinchona grove--here flecked withstagnant lagoons that teem with slimy, crawling life--there flattenedinto interminable, forest-covered plains and untrodden, primevalwildernesses, impenetrable, defiant, alluring--and all perennially bathedin dazzling light, vivid color, and soft, fragrant winds--witheverywhere redundant foliage--humming, chattering, screaminglife--profusion--extravagance--prodigality--riotous waste! Small wonderthat when this enticing shore was first revealed to the astonished_Conquistadores_, where every form of Nature was wholly different fromanything their past experience afforded, they were childishly receptive toevery tale, however preposterous, of fountains of youth, of magicallakes, or enchanted cities with mountains of gold in the depths of thefrowning jungle. They had come with their thought attuned to enchantment;their minds were fallow to the incredible; they were fresh from theirconquest of the vast _Mare Tenebrosum_, with its mysteries and terrors. At a single stroke from the arm of the intrepid Genoese the mediaevalsuperstitions which peopled the unknown seas had fallen like fettersfrom these daring and adventurous souls. The slumbering spirit ofknight-errantry awoke suddenly within their breasts; and when from theirfrail galleons they beheld with ravished eyes this land of magic andalluring mystery which spread out before them in such gorgeouspanorama, they plunged into the glittering waters with waving swordsand pennants, with shouts of praise and joy upon their lips, andinaugurated that series of prodigious enterprise, extravagant deeds ofhardihood, and tremendous feats of prowess which still remainunsurpassed in the annals of history for brilliancy, picturesqueness, and wealth of incident. 

With almost incredible rapidity and thoroughness the Spanish armsspread over the New World, urged by the corroding lust of gold and thesharp stimulus afforded by the mythical quests which animated thesimple minds of these hardy searchers for the Golden Fleece. Neithertrackless forests, withering heat, miasmatic climate nor savageIndians could dampen their ardor or check their search for riches andglory. They penetrated everywhere, steel-clad and glittering, withlance and helmet and streaming banner. Every nook, every promontory ofa thousand miles of coast was minutely searched; every island wasbounded; every towering mountain scaled. Even those vast regions ofNew Granada which to-day are as unknown as the least explored parts ofdarkest Africa became the scenes of stirring adventure and brilliantexploit of these daring crusaders of more than three centuries ago. 

The real wonders yielded by this newly discovered land of enchantmentfar exceeded the fabled Manoa or El Dorado of mythical lore; and theadventurous expeditions that were first incited by these chimeras soonchanged into practical colonizing and developing projects of real andpermanent value. Amazing discoveries were made of empires which hadalready developed a state of civilization, mechanical, military, andagricultural, which rivaled those of Europe. Natural resources wererevealed such as the Old World had not even guessed were possible. Great rivers, vast fertile plains, huge veins of gold and copper ore, inexhaustible timber, a wealth of every material thing desired by man, could be had almost without effort. Fortunate, indeed, was the Spanish_Conquistador_ in the possession of such immeasurable riches;fortunate, indeed, had he possessed the wisdom to meet the supremetest of character which this sudden accession of wealth and power wasto bring!

With the opening of the vast treasure house flanked by the SpanishMain came the Spaniard's supreme opportunity to master the world. Soon in undisputed possession of the greater part of the WesternHemisphere; with immeasurable wealth flowing into his coffers;sustained by dauntless courage and an intrepid spirit of adventure;with papal support, and the learning and genius of the centuries athis command, he faced the opportunity to extend his sway over theentire world and unite all peoples into a universal empire, bothtemporal and spiritual. That he failed to rise to this possibilitywas not due to any lack of appreciation of his tremendous opportunity, nor to a dearth of leaders of real military genius, but to amisapprehension of the great truth that the conquest of the world isnot to be wrought by feats of arms, but by the exercise of thosemoral attributes and spiritual qualities of heart and soul which hedid not possess--or possessing, had prostituted to the carnalinfluences of lust of material riches and temporal power. 

In the immediate wake of the Spanish _Conqueros_ surged the drift andflotsam of the Old World. Cities soon sprang up along the Spanish Mainwhich reflected a curious blend of the old-time life of Seville andMadrid with the picturesque and turbulent elements of the adventurerand buccaneer. The spirit of the West has always been synonymous witha larger sense of freedom, a shaking off of prejudice and traditionand the trammels of convention. The sixteenth century towns of the NewWorld were no exception, and their streets and _plazas_ earlyexhibited a multicolored panorama, wherein freely mingled knight andpredaceous priest, swashbuckler and staid _hidalgo_, timid Indian andveiled _doncella_--a potpourri of merchant, prelate, negro, thief, thebroken in fortune and the blackened in character--all poured into themelting pot of the new West, and there steaming and straining, scheming and plotting, attuned to any pitch of venturesome project, sobe it that gold and fame were the promised emoluments thereof. 

And gold, and fame of a certain kind, were always to be had by thosewhose ethical code permitted of a little straining. For the greatships which carried the vast wealth of this new land of magic back tothe perennially empty coffers of Old Spain constituted a temptationfar more readily recognized than resisted. These huge, slow-movinggalleons, gilded and carved, crawling lazily over the surface of thebright tropical sea, and often so heavily freighted with treasure asto be unsafe in rough weather, came to be regarded as specialdispensations of Providence by the cattle thieves and driers of beefwho dwelt in the pirates' paradise of Tortuga and Hispaniola, andlittle was required in way of soul-alchemy to transform the_boucanier_ into the lawless and sanguinary, though picturesque, corsair of that romantic age. The buccaneer was but a naturalevolution from the peculiar conditions then obtaining. Where humansociety in the process of formation has not yet arrived at thenecessity of law to restrain the lust and greed of its members; andwhere at the same time untold wealth is to be had at the slight costof a few lives; and, too, where even the children are taught thatwhosoever aids in the destruction of Spanish ships and Spanish livesrenders a service to the Almighty, the buccaneer must be regarded asthe logical result. He multiplied with astonishing rapidity in thesewarm, southern waters, and not a ship that sailed the Caribbean wassafe from his sudden depredations. So extensive and thorough was hiswork that the bed of the Spanish Main is dotted with traditionaltreasure ships, and to this day remnants of doubloons or "pieces ofeight" and bits of bullion and jewelry are washed up on the shiningbeaches of Panamá and northern Colombia as grim memorials of hislawless activities. 

The expenditure of energy necessary to transport the gold, silver andprecious stones from the New World to the bottomless treasury of Spainwas stupendous. Yet not less stupendous was the amount of treasuretransported. From the distant mines of Potosi, from the Pilcomayo, from the almost inaccessible fastnesses of what are now Bolivia andEcuador, a precious stream poured into the leaking treasure box ofSpain that totalled a value of no less than ten billion dollars. Muchof the wealth which came from Peru was shipped up to the isthmus ofPanamá, and thence transferred to plate-fleets. But the buccaneersbecame so active along the Pacific coast that water shipment wasfinally abandoned, and from that time transportation had to be madeoverland by way of the Andean plateau, sometimes a distance of twothousand miles, to the strongholds which were built to receive andprotect the treasure until the plate-fleets could be made up. Of thesestrongholds there were two of the first importance, the old city ofPanamá, on the isthmus, and the almost equally old city of Cartagena, on the northern coast of what is now the Republic of Colombia. 

The spirit of ancient Carthage must have breathed upon this "VeryRoyal and Loyal City" which Pedro de Heredia in the sixteenth centuryfounded on the north coast of New Granada, and bequeathed to it aportion of its own romance and tragedy. Superbly placed upon a narrow, tongue-shaped islet, one of a group that shield an ample harbor fromthe sharp tropical storms which burst unheralded over the sea without;girdled by huge, battlemented walls, and guarded by frowningfortresses, Cartagena commanded the gateway to the exhaustless wealthof the _Cordilleras_, at whose feet she still nestles, bathed inperpetual sunshine, and kissed by cool ocean breezes which temper thewinds blowing hot from the steaming _llanos_ of the interior. By themiddle of the sixteenth century she offered all that the adventurousseeker of fame and fortune could desire, and attracted to herself notonly the chivalry, but the beauty, wealth and learning which, mingledwith rougher elements, poured into the New World so freely in theopening scenes of the great drama inaugurated by the arrival of thetiny caravels of Columbus a half century before. 

The city waxed quickly rich and powerful. Its natural advantages oflocation, together with its massive fortifications, and its wonderfulharbor, so extensive that the combined fleets of Spain might readilyhave found anchorage therein, early rendered it the choice of theSpanish monarch as his most dependable reservoir and shipping pointfor the accumulated treasure of his new possessions. The island uponwhich the city arose was singularly well chosen for defense. Fortifiedbridges were built to connect it with the mainland, and subterraneanpassageways led from the great walls encircling it to the impregnablefortress of San Felipe de Barajas, on Mount San Lázaro, a few hundredyards back of the city and commanding the avenues and approaches ofthe land side. To the east, and about a mile from the walls, theabrupt hill of La Popa rises, surmounted by the convent of SantaCandelaria, likewise connected by underground tunnels to the interiorof the city, and commanding the harbor and its approaches from thesea. The harbor formerly connected with the open sea through twoentrances, the Boca Grande, a wide, fortified pass between the islandof Tierra Bomba and the tongue on which the city stands, and the BocaChica, some nine miles farther west, a narrow, tortuous pass, wideenough to permit entry to but a single vessel at a time, and commandedby forts San Fernando and San Josè. 

By the middle of the seventeenth century Cartagena, "Queen of theIndies and Queen of the Seas, " had expanded into a proud and beautifulcity, the most important mart of the New World. Under royal patronageits merchants enjoyed a monopoly of commerce with Spain. Under thespecial favor of Rome it became an episcopal See, and the seat of theHoly Inquisition. Its docks and warehouses, its great centers ofcommerce, its sumptuous dwellings, its magnificent Cathedral, itscolleges and monasteries, and its proud aristocracy, all reflected thespirit of enterprise which animated its sons and found expression in acity which could boast a pride, a culture, and a wealth almostunrivalled even in the Old World. 

But, not unlike her ancient prototype, Cartagena succumbed to the veryinfluences which had made her great. Her wealth excited the cupidityof freebooters, and her power aroused the jealousy of her formidablerivals. Her religion itself became an excuse for the plundering handsof Spain's enemies. Again and again the city was called upon to defendthe challenge which her riches and massive walls perpetually issued. Again and again she was forced to yield to the heavy tributes anddisgraceful penalties of buccaneers and legalized pirates who, likeDrake, came to plunder her under royal patent. Cartagena rose andfell, and rose again. But the human heart which throbs beneath thelash of lust or revenge knows no barriers. Her great forts availednothing against the lawless hordes which swarmed over them. Neitherwere her tremendous walls proof against starvation. Again and again, her streets filled with her gaunt dead, she stubbornly held her gatesagainst the enemies of Spain who assaulted her in the name ofreligion, only at last to weaken with terror and throw them open indisgraceful welcome to the French de Pontis and his maudlin, rag-tagfollowers, who drained her of her last drop of life blood. As hergates swung wide and this nondescript band of marauders streamed inwith curses and shouts of exultation, the glory of this royalmediaeval city passed out forever. 

Almost from its inception, Cartagena had been the point of attack ofevery enterprise launched with the object of wresting from Spain herrich western possessions, so much coveted by her jealous andrevengeful rivals. It was Spain herself who fought for very existencewhile Cartagena was holding her gates against the enemies of HolyChurch. And these enemies knew that they had pierced the Spanish heartwhen the "Queen of the Indies" fell. And in no small measure did Spaindeserve the fate which overtook her. For, had it not been for thestupendous amount of treasure derived from these new possessions, thedramatic and dominant part which she played in the affairs of Europeduring the sixteenth century would have been impossible. This treasureshe wrested from her South American colonies at a cost in thedestruction of human life, in the outraging of human instincts, inthe debauching of ideals and the falsifying of hope, in hellishoppression and ghastly torture, that can never be adequatelyestimated. Her benevolent instruments of colonization were cannon andsaintly relics. Her agents were swaggering soldiers and bigotedfriars. Her system involved the impression of her language and herundemonstrable religious beliefs upon the harmless aborigines. Thefruits of this system, which still linger after three centuries, aresuperstition, black ignorance, and woeful mental retardation. To theterrified aborigines the boasted Spanish civilization meant littlemore than "gold, liquor, and sadness. " Small wonder that the simpleIndians, unable to comprehend the Christian's lust for gold, pouredthe molten metal down the throats of their captives, crying, "Eat, Christian, eat!" They had borrowed their ideals from the ChristianSpaniards, who by means of the stake and rack were convincing themthat God was not in this western land until they came, bringing theirdebauched concept of Christianity. 

And so Cartagena fell, late in the seventeenth century, never toregain more than a shadow of her former grandeur and prestige. Butagain she rose, in a semblance of her martial spirit, when her nativesons, gathering fresh courage and inspiration from the waning powersof the mother-country in the early years of the century just closed, organized that federation which, after long years of almost hopelessstruggle, lifted the yoke of Spanish misrule from New Granada andproclaimed the Republic of Colombia. Cartagena was the first city ofColombia to declare its independence from Spain. And in the great warwhich followed the "Heroic City" passed through terrible vicissitudes, emerging from it still further depleted and sunken, a shell of massivewalls and battered defenses, with desolated homes and empty streetsechoing the tread of the mendicant _peon_. 

As the nineteenth century, so rich in invention, discovery, andstirring activity in the great States to the north, drew to a close, achance visitor to this battle-scarred, mediaeval city would have foundher asleep amid the dreams of her former greatness. Approaching fromthe harbor, especially if he arrived in the early hours of morning, his eyes would have met a view of exquisite beauty. Seen thus, greatmoss-grown structures rise from within the lofty encircling walls, with many a tower and gilded dome glittering in the clear sunlight andstanding out in sharp relief against the green background offorest-plumed hills and towering mountains. The abysmal blue of theuntainted tropical sky overhead contrasts sharply with the red-tiledroofs and dazzling white exteriors of the buildings beneath; and thevivid tints, mingling with the iridescence of the scarcely ripplingwaters of the harbor, blend into a color scheme of rarest lovelinessin the clear atmosphere which seems to magnify all distant objects andintensify every hue. 

A closer approach to the citadel which lies within the landlockedharbor reveals in detail the features of the stupendous walls whichguard this key to Spain's former treasure house. Their immensity andtheir marvelous construction bear witness to the genius of her famousmilitary engineers, and evoke the same admiration as do the greattemples and monuments of ancient Egypt. These grim walls, in placessixty feet through, and pierced by numerous gates, are frequentlywidened into broad esplanades, and set here and there with bastionsand watch towers to command strategic points. At the north end of thecity they expand into an elaborately fortified citadel, within whichare enormous fresh water tanks, formerly supplied by the rains, andmade necessary by the absence of springs so near the coast. Within thewalls at various points one finds the now abandoned barracks, storerooms, and echoing dungeons, the latter in the days of thestirring past too often pressed into service by the Holy Inquisition. Underground tunnels, still intact, lead from the walls to theCathedral, the crumbling fortress of San Felipe de Barajas, and thedeserted convent on the summit of La Popa. Time-defying, grim, dramatic reliques of an age forever past, breathing poetry and romancefrom every crevice--still in fancy echoing from moldering tower andscarred bulwark the clank of sabre, the tread of armored steed, andthe shouts of exulting _Conquistadores_--aye, their ghostly echoessinking in the fragrant air of night into soft whispers, which bear tothe tropical moon dark hints of ancient tragedies enacted within thesedim keeps and gloom-shrouded tunnels!

The pass of Boca Grande--"large mouth"--through which Drake's band ofmarauders sailed triumphantly in the latter part of the sixteenthcentury, was formerly the usual entrance to the city's magnificentharbor. But its wide, deep channel, only two miles from the citywalls, afforded too easy access to undesirable visitors in the heydayof freebooters; and the harassed Cartagenians, wearied of theinnumerable piratical attacks which this broad entrance constantlyinvited, undertook to fill it up. This they accomplished after yearsof heroic effort and an enormous expenditure of money, leaving theharbor only the slender, tortuous entrance of Boca Chica--"littlemouth"--dangerous to incoming vessels because of the almost torrentialflow of the tide through it, but much more readily defended. The twocastles of San Fernando and San Josè, frowning structures of stonedominating this entrance, have long since fallen into disuse, but arestill admirably preserved. Beneath the former, and extending far belowthe surface of the water, is the old Bastile of the Inquisition, occasionally pressed into requisition now to house recalcitrantpoliticians, and where no great effort of the imagination is requiredstill to hear the groans of the tortured and the sighs of thecondemned, awaiting in chains and _san benitos_ the approaching _autoda fé_. 

But the greater distance from the present entrance of the harbor tothe city walls affords the visitor a longer period in which to enjoythe charming panorama which seems to drift slowly out to meet him ashe stands entranced before it. The spell of romance and chivalry isupon him long ere he disembarks; and once through the great gateway ofthe citadel itself, he yields easily to the ineluctable charm whichseems to hover in the balmy air of this once proud city. Everywhereare evidences of ancient grandeur, mingling with memories of enormouswealth and violent scenes of strife. The narrow, winding streets, characteristic of oriental cities; the Moorish architecture displayedin the grandiose palaces and churches; the grated, unglazed windows, through which still peep timid _señoritas_, as in the romantic days ofyore; the gaily painted balconies, over which bepowdered _doncellas_lean to pass the day's gossip in the liquid tongue of Cervantes, alltransport one in thought to the chivalrous past, when this picturesquesurvival of Spain's power in America was indeed the very Queen of thewestern world and the proud boast of the haughty monarchs of Castile. 

Nor was the city more dear to the Spanish King than to the spiritualSovereign who sat on Peter's throne. The Holy See strove to makeCartagena the chief ecclesiastical center of the New World; andchurches, monasteries, colleges, and convents flourished there asluxuriantly as the tropical vegetation. The city was early elevated toa bishopric. A magnificent Cathedral was soon erected, followed byother churches and buildings to house ecclesiastical orders, includingthe Jesuit college, the University, the women's seminary, and thehomes for religious orders of both sexes. The same lavish expenditureof labor and wealth was bestowed upon the religious structures as onthe walls and fortifications. The Cathedral and the church of San Juande Dios, the latter the most conspicuous structure in the city, withits double towers and its immense monastery adjoining, became thespecial recipients of the liberal outpourings of a community rich notonly in material wealth, but in culture and refinement as well. Thelatter church in particular was the object of veneration of thepatrons of America's only Saint, the beneficent Pedro Claver, whosewhitened bones now repose in a wonderful glass coffin bound withstrips of gold beneath its magnificent marble altar. In the central_plaza_ of the city still stands the building erected to house theHoly Inquisition, so well preserved that it yet serves as a dwelling. Adjacent to it, and lining the _plaza_, are spacious colonialedifices, once the homes of wealth and culture, each shaded bygraceful palms and each enclosing its inner garden, or patio, wheretropical plants and aromatic shrubs riot in richest color andfragrance throughout the year. 

In the halcyon days of Cartagena's greatness, when, under theprotection of the powerful mother-country, her commerce extended tothe confines of the known world, her streets and markets presented ascene of industry and activity wholly foreign to her in these latterdays of her decadence. From her port the rich traffic which oncecentered in this thriving city moved, in constantly swelling volume, in every direction. In her marts were formulated those audacious planswhich later took shape in ever-memorable expeditions up the Magdalenaand Cauca rivers in search of gold, or to establish new colonies andextend the city's sphere of influence. From her gates were launchedthose projects which had for their object the discovery of themysterious regions where rivers were said to flow over sands of puregold and silver, or the kingdom of El Dorado, where native potentatessprinkled their bodies with gold dust before bathing in the streamssacred to their deities. From this city the bold Quesada set out onthe exploits of discovery and conquest which opened to the world therich plateau of Bogotá, and ranked him among the greatest of the_Conquistadores_. In those days a canal had been cut through theswamps and dense coast lowlands to the majestic Magdalena river, somesixty-five miles distant, where a riverine town was founded and giventhe name of Calamar, the name Pedro de Heredia had first bestowed uponCartagena. Through this _dique_ the city's merchant vessels passed tothe great arterial stream beyond, and thence some thousand miles southinto the heart of the rich and little known regions of upper Colombia. To-day, like the grass-grown streets of the ancient city, this canal, choked with weeds and _débris_, is but a green and turbid pool, butyet a reminder of the faded glory of the famous old town which playedsuch a dramatic _rôle_ in that age of desperate courage. 

In the finished town of Cartagena Spain's dreams of imperial pomp andmagnificence were externalized. In her history the tragedy of theNew World drama has been preserved. To-day, sunk in decadence, surrounded by the old mediaeval flavor, and steeped in the romance ofan age of chivalry forever past, her muniments and donjons, hergray, crenelated walls and time-defying structures continue to expressthat dogged tenacity of belief and stern defiance of unorthodoxopinion which for two hundred years maintained the Inquisitionwithin her gates and sacrificed her fair sons and daughters to anundemonstrable creed. The heavy air of ecclesiasticism still hangsover her. The priests and monks who accompanied every sanguinaryexpedition of the _Conquistadores_, ready at all times to absolveany desperado who might slay a harmless Indian in the name of Christ, have their successors to-day in the astute and untiring sons ofRome, who conserve the interests of Holy Church within thesebattered walls and guard their portals against the entrance of radicalthought. Heredia had scarcely founded the city when King Philip sentit a Bishop. And less than a decade later the Cathedral, which to-daystands as the center of the episcopal See, was begun. 

The Cathedral, though less imposing than the church of San Juan deDios, is a fine example of the ecclesiastical architecture of thecolonial era. Occupying a central position in the city, itsever-open doors invite rich and poor alike, citizen and stranger, to enter and linger in the refreshing atmosphere within, where thesubdued light and cool shadows of the great nave and chapels afford agrateful respite from the glare and heat of the streets without. Massive in exterior appearance, and not beautiful within, theCathedral nevertheless exhibits a construction which is at oncebroad, simple and harmonious. The nave is more than usually widebetween its main piers, and its rounded arches are lofty and wellproportioned. Excellent portraits of former Bishops adorn its whitewalls, and narrow rectangular windows at frequent intervals admita dim, mellow light through their dark panes. Before one of thesewindows--apparently with no thought of incongruity in the exhibitionof such a gruesome object attached to a Christian church--therehas been affixed an iron grating, said to have served the HolyInquisition as a gridiron on which to roast its heretical victims. Within, an ambulatory, supported on the first tier of arches, affords a walk along either side of the nave, and leads to thewinding stairway of the bell tower. At one end of this ambulatory, its entrance commanding a full view of the nave and the _capillamayor_, with its exquisitely carved marble altar, is located theBishop's _sanctum_. It was here that the young Spanish priest, Josè deRincón, stood before the Bishop of Cartagena on the certain middayto which reference was made in the opening chapter of this recital, and received with dull ears the ecclesiastical order which removedhim still farther from the world and doomed him to a living burialin the crumbling town of Simití, in the wilderness of forgottenGuamocó. 

CHAPTER 13

"At last, you come!"

The querulous tones of the aged Bishop eddied the brooding silencewithin the Cathedral. Without waiting for a reply he turned again tohis table and took up a paper containing a list of names. 

"You wait until midday, " he continued testily; "but you give me timeto reflect and decide. The parish of Simití has long been vacant. Ihave assigned you to it. The Honda touches at Calamar to-morrow, goingup-river. You will take it. "

"Simití! Father--!"

"_Bien_; and would you dispute this too!" quavered the ill-humoredBishop. 

"But--Simití--you surely cannot mean--!"

The Bishop turned sharply around. "I mean that after what I learn fromRome I will not keep you here to teach your heresies in ourUniversity! I mean that after what I hear this morning of your evilpractices I will not allow you to spend another day in Cartagena!" Theangry ecclesiastic brought his bony fist hard against the table toemphasize the remark. 

"_Madre de Dios!_" he resumed, after some moments of nursing hischoleric feelings. "Would you debate further! The Holy Father for someunexplained reason inflicts a madman upon me! And I, innocent of whatyou are, obey his instructions and place you in the University--withwhat result? You have the effrontery--the madness--to lecture to yourclasses on the heresies of Rome!"

"But--"

"And as if that were not burden enough for these old shoulders, I mustlearn that I have taken a serpent to my bosom--but that you are stillsane enough to propagate heresies--to plot revolution with theRadicals--and--shame consume you!--to wantonly ruin the fair daughtersof our diocese! But, do you see now why I send you where you can doless evil than here in Cartagena?"

The priest slowly petrified under the tirade. 

"The fault is not mine if I must act without instruction fromRome, " the Bishop went on petulantly. "Twice have I warned youagainst your teachings--but I did not suspect then, for onlyyesterday did I learn that before coming to me you had been confinedin a monastery--insane! But--_Hombre_! when you bring the blush ofshame to my cheeks because of your godless practices--it is timeto put you away without waiting for instruction!"

Godless practices! Was the Bishop or the priest going mad?

"Go now to your room, " the Bishop added, turning again to his table. "You have little enough time to prepare for your journey. Wenceslaswill give you letters to the Alcalde of Simití. "

Wenceslas! The priest's thought flew back over the events of themorning. Marcelena--Maria--the encounter below with--! _Dios!_ Couldit be that Wenceslas had fastened upon him the stigma of his owncrime? The priest found his tongue. 

"Father!--it is untrue!--these charges are false as hell!" heexclaimed excitedly. "I demand to know who brings them against me!"

The testy Bishop's wrath flared up anew. "You demand! Am I to sit hereand be catechised by _you_? It is enough that I know what occurs in mydiocese, and am well informed of your conduct!"

The doorway darkened, and the priest turned to meet the object of hissuspecting thought. 

Bestowing a smile of patronage upon Josè, and bowing obsequiouslybefore the Bishop, Wenceslas laid some papers upon the table, remarking as he did so, "The letters, Your Grace, to introduce ourJosè to his new field. Also his instructions and expense money. "

"Wenceslas!" The priest confronted him fiercely. "Do you accuse mebefore the Bishop?"

"Accuse, _amigo_?" Wenceslas queried in a tone of assumed surprise. "Have I not said that your ready tongue and pen are your accusers?But, " with a conciliatory air, "we must remember that our good Bishopmercifully views your conduct in the light of your recent mentalaffliction, traces of which, unfortunately, have lingered to cause himsorrow. And so he graciously prepares a place for you, _caro amigo_, where rest and relief from the strain of teaching will do you muchgood, and where life among simple and affectionate people will restoreyou, he hopes, to soundness of mind. "

The priest turned again to the Bishop in a complexity of appeal. Thesoft speech of Wenceslas, so full of a double _entendu_, so markedlyin contrast with the Bishop's harsh but at least sincere tirade, leftno doubt in his mind that he was now the victim of a plot, whoseramifications extended back to the confused circumstances of his earlylife, and the doubtful purposes of his uncle and his influence uponthe sacerdotal directors in Rome. And he saw himself a helpless andhopelessly entangled victim. 

"Father!" In piteous appeal Josè held out his hands to the Bishop, whohad turned his back upon him and was busy with the papers on histable. 

"_Amigo_, the interview is ended, " said Wenceslas quietly, steppingbetween the priest and his superior. 

Josè pushed wildly past the large form of Wenceslas and seized theBishop's hand. 

"_Santa Maria!_" cried the petulant churchman. "Do you obey me, or no?If not, then leave the Church--and spend your remaining days as ahounded ex-priest and unfrocked apostate, " he finished significantly. "Go, prepare for your journey!"

Wenceslas slipped the letter and a few _pesos_ into the hand of thesmitten, bewildered Josè, and turning him to the door, gently urgedhim out and closed it after him. 

 * * * * *

Just why the monastery gates had opened to him after two years'deadening confinement, Josè had not been apprised. All he knew wasthat his uncle had appeared with a papal appointment for him to theUniversity of Cartagena, and had urged his acceptance of it as theonly course likely to restore him both to health and position, and tomeet the deferred hopes of his sorrowing mother. 

"Accept it, _sobrino mío_, " the uncle had said. "Else, pass yourremaining days in confinement. There can be no refutation of thecharges against you. But, if these doors open again to you, think notever to sever your connection with the Church of Rome. For, if theRincón honor should prove inadequate to hold you to your oath, beassured that Rincón justice will follow you until the grave wipes outthe stain upon our fair name. "

"Then, _tío mío_, let the Church at once dismiss me, as unworthy to beher son!" pleaded Josè. 

"What, excommunication?" cried the horrified uncle. "Never! Deathfirst! Are you still mad?"

Josè looked into the cold, emotionless eyes of the man and shuddered. The ancient spirit of the Holy Inquisition lurked there, and hecowered before it. But at least the semblance of freedom had beenoffered him. His numbed heart already had taken hope. He were indeedmad not to acquiesce in his uncle's demands, and accept the profferedopportunity to leave forever the scenes of his suffering and disgrace. And so he bowed again before the inexorable. 

Arriving in Cartagena some months before this narrative opens, he hadgradually yielded himself to the restorative effects of changedenvironment and the hope which his uncle's warm assurances aroused, that a career would open to him in the New World, unclouded by theclimacteric episode of the publishing of his journal and hissubsequent arrogant bearing before the Holy Father, which had provokedhis fate. Under the beneficent influences of the soft climate and thenew interests of this tropic land he began to feel a budding ofsomething like confidence, and the suggestions of an unfamiliarambition to retrieve past failure and yet gratify, even if in smallmeasure, the parental hope which had first directed him as a childinto the fold of the Church. The Bishop had assigned him at once topedagogical work in the University; and in the teaching of history, the languages, and, especially, his beloved Greek, Josè had found anabsorption that was slowly dimming the memory of the dark days whichhe had left behind in the Old World. 

But the University had not afforded him the only interest in his newfield. He had not been many weeks on Colombian soil when his awakeningperceptions sensed the people's oppression under the tyranny ofecclesiastical politicians. Nor did he fail to scent the approach of atremendous conflict, in which the country would pass through violentthroes in the struggle to shake off the galling yoke of Rome. Maintaining an attitude of strict neutrality, he had striven quietlyto gauge the anticlerical movement, and had been appalled to find itso widespread and menacing. Only a miracle could save unhappy Colombiafrom being rent by the fiercest of religious wars in the near future. Oh, if he but had the will, as he had the intellectual ability, tothrow himself into the widening breach!

"There is but one remedy, " he murmured aloud, as he sat one evening ona bench in the _plaza_ of Simón Bolívar, watching the stream of gailydressed promenaders parading slowly about on the tesselated walks, buthearing little of their animated conversation. 

"And what is that, may I ask, friend?"

The priest roused up with a start. He had no idea that his audiblemeditations had been overheard. Besides, he had spoken in English. Butthis question had been framed in the same tongue. He looked around. Atall, slender man, with thin, bronzed face and well-trimmed Van Dykebeard, sat beside him. The man laughed pleasantly. 

"Didn't know that I should find any one here to-night who could speakmy lingo, " he said cordially. "But, I repeat, what is the remedy?"

"Christianity, " returned the amazed Josè, without knowing what hesaid. 

"And the condition to be remedied?" continued the stranger. 

"This country's diseased--but to whom have I the honor of speaking?"drawing himself up a little stiffly, and glancing about to see whomight be observing them. 

"Oh, my credentials?" laughed the man, as he caught Josè's wonderinglook. "I'm quite unknown in Cartagena, unfortunately. You must pardonmy Yankee inquisitiveness, but I've watched you out here for severalevenings, and have wondered what weighty problems you were wrestlingwith. A quite unpardonable offense, from the Spanish viewpoint, butwholly forgivable in an uncouth American, I'm sure. Besides, when Iheard you speak my language it made me a bit homesick, and I wanted tohear more of the rugged tongue of the Gentiles. "

Laughing again good-naturedly, he reached into an inner pocket anddrew out a wallet. "My name's Hitt, " he said, handing Josè his card. "But I didn't live up to it. That is, I failed to make a hit up north, and so I'm down here. " He chuckled at his own facetiousness. "Amos A. Hitt, " he went on affably. "There used to be a 'Reverend' before it. That was when I was exploring the Lord's throne. I've dropped it, nowthat I'm humbly exploring His footstool instead. "

Josè yielded to the man's friendly advances. This was not the firstAmerican he had met; yet it seemed a new type, and one that drew himstrongly. 

"So you think this country diseased, eh?" the American continued. 

Josè did not answer. While there was nothing in the stranger'sappearance and frank, open countenance to arouse suspicion, yet hemust be careful. He was living down one frightful mistake. He couldnot risk another. But the man did not wait for a reply. 

"Well, I'm quite agreed with you. It has _priest-itis_. " He stoppedand looked curiously at Josè, as if awaiting the effect of his boldwords. Then--"I take it you are not really one of 'em?"

Josè stared at the man in amazement. Hitt laughed again. Then he drewforth a cigar and held it out. "Smoke?" he said. The priest shook hishead. Hitt lighted the cigar himself, then settled back on the bench, his hands jammed into his trousers pockets, and his long legs stuckstraight out in front, to the unconcealed annoyance of the passers-by. But, despite his _brusquerie_ and his thoughtlessness, there wassomething about the American that was wonderfully attractive to thelonely priest. 

"Yes, sir, " Hitt went on abstractedly in corroboration of his formerstatement, "Colombia is absolutely stagnant, due to Jesuiticalpolitics, the bane of all good Catholic countries. If she could shakeoff priestcraft she'd have a chance--provided she didn't fall intoorthodox Protestantism. "

Josè gasped, though he strove to hide his wonder. "You--" he beganhesitatingly, "you were in the ministry--?"

"Yes. Don't be afraid to come right out with it. I was a Presbyteriandivine some six years ago, in Cincinnati. Ever been there?"

Josè assured him that he had never seen the States. 

"H'm, " mused the ex-preacher; "great country--wonderful--none like itin the world! I've been all over, Europe, Asia, Africa--seen 'em all. America's the original Eden, and our women are the only truedescendants of mother Eve. No question about it, that apple incidenttook place up in the States somewhere--probably in Ohio. "

Josè caught the man's infectious humor and laughed heartily. Surely, this American was a tonic, and of the sort that he most needed. "Then, you are--still touring--?"

"I'm exploring, " Hitt replied. "I'm here to study what ancient recordsI may find in your library; then I shall go on to Medellin and Bogotá. I'm on the track of a prehistoric Inca city, located somewhere in theAndes--and no doubt in the most inaccessible spot imaginable. Tradition cites this lost city as the cradle of Inca civilization. Tampu Tocco, it is called in their legends, the place from which theIncas went out to found that marvelous empire which eventuallyincluded the greater part of South America. The difficulty is, " headded, knotting his brows, "that the city was evidently unknown to theSpaniards. I can find no mention of it in Spanish literature, and I'vesearched all through the libraries of Spain. My only hope now is thatI shall run across some document down here that will allude to it, orsome one who has heard likely Indian rumors. "

Josè rubbed his eyes and looked hard at the man. "Well!" heejaculated, "you are--if I may be permitted to say it--an originaltype. "

"I presume I am, " admitted the American genially. "I've been all sortsof things in my day, preacher, teacher, editor. My father used to be acircuit rider in New England forty years ago or more. Pious--goodLord! Why, he was one of the kind who believe the good book 'fromkiver to kiver, ' you know. Used to preach interminable sermons aboutthe mercy of the Lord in holding us all over the smoking pit and notdropping us in! Why, man! after listening to him expound theScriptures at night I used to go to bed with my hair on end and myskin all goose-flesh. No wonder I urged him to send me to thePresbyterian Seminary!"

"And you were ordained?" queried Josè, dark memories rising in his ownthought. 

"Thoroughly so! And glad I was of it, too, for I had grown up as piousand orthodox as my good father. I considered the ordination a throughticket to paradise. "

"But--now--"

"Oh, I found myself in time, " continued the man, answering Josè'sunspoken thought. "Then I stopped preaching beautiful legends, andtried to be genuinely helpful to my congregation. I had a fine churchin Cincinnati at that time. But--well, I mixed a trifle too muchheresy into my up-to-date sermons, I guess. Anyway, the Assemblydidn't approve my orthodoxy, and I had as little respect for itsheterodoxy, and the upshot of it was that I quit--cold. " He laughedgrimly as he finished the recital. "But, " he went on gravely, "I nowsee that it was due simply to my desire to progress beyond theacceptance of tradition and allegory as truth, and to find some betterfoundation upon which to build than the undemonstrable articles offaith embraced in the Westminster Confession. To me, that confessionof faith had become a confession of ignorance. " He turned his shrewdeyes upon Josè. "I was in somewhat the same mental state that I thinkyou are in now, " he added. 

"And why, if I may ask, are you now exploring?" asked Josè, disregarding the implication. 

"Oh, as for that, " replied the American easily, "I used to teachhistory and became especially interested in ancient civilizations, lost cities, and the like, in the Western Hemisphere. Long before Ileft the ministry oil was struck on our little Pennsylvania farm, and--well, I didn't have to work after that. So for some years I'vedevoted myself strictly to my particular hobby of travel. And in mywork I find it necessary to discard ceremony, and scrape acquaintancewith all sorts and conditions. I especially cultivate clergymen. I'vewanted to know you ever since I first saw you out here. But I couldn'twait for a formal introduction. And so I broke in unceremoniously uponyour meditations a few moments ago. "

"I am grateful to you for doing so, " said Josè frankly, holding out ahand. "There is much that you can tell me--much that I want to know. But--" He again looked cautiously around. 

"Ah, I understand, " said Hitt, quickly sensing the priest'suneasiness. "What say you, shall we meet somewhere down by the citywall? Say, at the old Inquisition cells?"

Josè nodded his acquiescence, and they separated. A few minutes laterthe two were seated in one of the cavernous archways of the long, echoing corridor which leads to the deserted barracks and the gloomy, bat-infested cells beneath. A vagrant breeze drifted now and thenacross the grim wall above them, and the deserted road in front laydrenched in the yellow light of the tropic moon. There was littlelikelihood of detection here, where the dreamy plash of the seadrowned the low sound of their voices; and Josè breathed more freelythan in the populous _plaza_ which they had just left. 

"Good Lord!" muttered the explorer, returning from a peep into thefoul blackness of a subterranean tunnel, "imagine what took place heresome three centuries ago!"

"Yes, " returned Josè sadly; "and in the reeking dungeons of SanFernando, out there at the harbor entrance. And, what is worse, my ownancestors were among the perpetrators of those black deeds committedin the name of Christ. "

"Whew! You don't say! Tell me about it. " The explorer drew closer. Josè knew somehow that he could trust this stranger, and so he brieflysketched his ancestral story to his sympathetic listener. "And no oneknows, " he concluded in a depressed tone, "how many of the thousandsof victims of the Inquisition in Cartagena were sent to their doom bythe house of Rincón. It may be, " he sighed, "that the sins of myfathers have been visited upon me--that I am now paying in part thepenalty for their criminal zeal. "

The explorer sat for some time in silent meditation. "Perhaps, " hesaid, "your family fell under the spell of old Saint Dominic. Youknow the legend? How God deliberated long whether to punish thewickedness of mankind by sending down war, plague, or famine, and wasfinally prevailed upon by Saint Dominic to send, instead, the HolyInquisition. Another choice example of the convenient way theworld has always had of attributing the foulest deeds of men to theAlmighty. No wonder religion has so woefully declined!"

"But is it so up in the great North?" asked Josè. "Tell me, what isthe religious status there? My limitations have been such that Ihave--I have not kept abreast of current theological thought. "

"In the United States the conventional, passive submission toorthodox dogma is rapidly becoming a thing of the past, " the explorerreplied. "The people are beginning to think on these topics. Allhuman opinion, philosophical, religious, or scientific, is in astate of liquefaction--not yet solidified. Just what will crystallizeout of the magma is uncertain. The country is experiencing areligious crisis, and an irresistible determination to _know_ isabroad in the land. Everything is being turned upside-down, and onehardly dares longer say what he believes, for the dogma of to-day isthe fairy-tale of to-morrow. And, through it all, as some one hastersely said, 'orthodoxy is hanging onto the coat-tails of progress ina vain attempt to stop her. ' We are facing in the United Statesthe momentous question, Is Christianity a failure? Although no oneknows what Christianity really is. But one thing is certain, thebrand of Christianity handed out by Protestant and Catholic alike ismighty close to the borderline of dismal failure. "

"But is there in the North no distinct trend in religious belief?"queried Josè. 

The explorer hesitated. "Yes, " he said slowly, "there is. The man whoholds and promulgates any belief, religious or scientific, is beingmore and more insistently forced to the point of demonstration. Thecitation of patristic authority is becoming daily more thoroughlyobsolete. "

"And there is no one who demonstrates practical Christianity?"

"No. Do you? Is there any one in your Church, or in the Protestantfaith, who does the works which Christ is reported to have done? Isthere any one who really tries to do them? Or thinks he could if hetried? The good church Fathers from the third century down couldfigure out that the world was created on the night before thetwenty-third of October, four thousand and four B. C. , and that Adam'sfall occurred about noon of the day he was created. They could dilate_ad nauseam_ on transubstantiation, the divine essence, and themystery of the Trinity; they could astonishingly allegorize the Biblelegends, and read into every word a deep, hidden, incomprehensiblesense; they could prove to their own satisfaction that Adam composedcertain of the Psalms; that Moses wrote every word of the Pentateuch, even the story of his own death and burial; and that the entire Biblewas delivered by God to man, word for word, just as it stands, including the punctuation. And yet, not one of them followed thesimple commands of Jesus closely enough to enable him to cure atoothache, to say nothing of generally healing the sick and raisingthe dead! Am I not right?"

"Yes--I am sorry to have to admit, " murmured Josè. 

"Well, " went on the explorer, "that's what removed me from thePresbyterian ministry. It is not Christianity that is a dismalfailure, but men's interpretation of it. Of true Christianity, Iconfess I know little. Oh, I'm a fine preacher! And yet I amrepresentative of thousands of others, like myself, all at sea. Only, the others are either ashamed or afraid to make this confession. But, in my case, my daily bread did not depend upon my continuance in thepulpit. "

"But supposing that it had--"

"The result doubtless would have been the same. The orthodox faith wasutterly failing to supply me with a satisfying interpretation oflife, and it afforded me no means of escaping the discords of mundaneexistence. It could only hold out an undemonstrable promise of a lifeafter death, provided I was elected, and provided I did not toogreatly offend the Creator during the few short years that I mightspend on earth. If I did that, then, according to the gloriousWestminster Confession, I was doomed--for we are not so fortunate asyou in having a purgatory from which we may escape through thesuffrages of the faithful, " he concluded with a chuckle. 

Josè knew, as he listened, that his own Church would hold this man ablasphemer. The man by his own confession was branded a Protestantheretic. And he, Josè, was _anathema_ for listening to these sincere, brutally frank confidences, and tendering them his warm sympathy. Yethe sat spellbound. 

"And so I retired from the ministry, " continued the explorer. "I hadbecome ashamed of tearing down other men's religious beliefs. I wasweary of having to apologize constantly for the organization to whichI was attached. At home I had been taught a devout faith in revealedreligion; in the world I was thrown upon its inquiring doubts; Iyearned for faith, yet demanded scientific proof. Why, I would havebeen satisfied with even the slight degree of proof which we are ableto advance for our various physical sciences. But, no, it was notforthcoming. I must believe because the Fathers had believed. Istruggled between emotion and reason, until--well, until I had tothrow it all over to keep from going mad. "

Josè bowed in silence before this recital of a soul-experience soclosely paralleling his own. 

"But, come, " said the explorer cheerily, "I'm doing all the talking. Now--"

"No! no!" interrupted the eager Josè. "I do not wish to talk. I wantto hear you. Go on, I beg of you! Your words are like rain to aparched field. You will yet offer me something upon which I can buildwith new hope. "

"Do not be so sanguine, my friend, " returned the explorer in a kindlytone. "I fear I shall be only the reaper, who cuts the weeds andstubble, and prepares the field for the sower. I have said that I aman explorer. But my field is not limited to this material world. I aman explorer of men's thoughts as well. I am in search of a religion. Imanifest this century's earnest quest for demonstrable truth. And so Istop and question every one I meet, if perchance he may point me inthe right direction. My incessant wandering about the globe is, if Imay put it that way, but the outward manifestation of my ceaselesssearch in the realm of the soul. "

He paused. Then, reaching out and laying a hand upon the priest'sknee, he said in a low, earnest voice, "My friend, _something_happened in that first year of our so-called Christian era. What itwas we do not know. But out of the smoke and dust, the haze and mistof that great cataclysm has proceeded the character Jesus--absolutelyunique. It is a character which has had a terrific influence upon theworld ever since. Because of it empires have crumbled; a hundredmillion human lives have been destroyed; and the thought-processes ofa world have been overthrown or reversed. Just what he said, just whathe did, just how he came, and how he went, we may not know with anyhigh degree of accuracy. But, beneath all the myth and legend, thelore and childish human speculation of the intervening centuries, there _must_ be a foundation of eternal truth. And it must bebroad--very broad. I am digging for it--as I dug on the sites ofancient Troy and Babylon--as I have dug over the buried civilizationsof Mexico and Yucatan--as I shall dig for the hidden Inca towns on thewooded heights of the Andes. And while I dig materially I am alsodigging spiritually. "

"And what have you found?" asked Josè hoarsely. 

"I am still in the overburden of _débris_ which the sedulous, tirelessFathers heaped mountain high upon the few recorded teachings of Jesus. But already I see indications of things to come that would make themembers of the Council of Trent and the cocksure framers of theWestminster Confession burst from their graves by sheer force ofastonishment! There are even now foreshadowings of such revolutionarychanges in our concept of God, of the universe, of matter, and thehuman mind, of evil, and all the controverted points of theologicaldiscussion of this day, as to make me tremble when I contemplate them. In my first hasty judgment, after dipping into the 'Higher Criticism, 'I concluded that Jesus was but a charlatan, who had learnedthaumaturgy in Egypt and practiced it in Judea. Thanks to a betterappreciation of the same 'Higher Criticism' I am reconstructing myconcept of him now, and on a better basis. I once denounced God as thecreator of both good and evil, and of a man who He knew mustinevitably fall, even before the clay of which he was made had becomefairly dry. I changed that concept later to Matthew Arnold's 'thatsomething not ourselves that makes for righteousness. ' But mighty fewto-day recognize such a God! Again, in Jesus' teaching that sinbrought death into the world, I began to see what is so dimlyforeshadowed to-day, the _mental_ nature of all things. 'Sin' is theEnglish translation of the original '_hamartio_, ' which means, 'tomiss the mark, ' a term used in archery. Well, then, missing the markis the mental result of nonconformity to law, is it not? And, goingfurther, if death is the result of missing the mark, and that isitself due to mental cause, and, since death results from sickness, old age, or catastrophe, then these things must likewise be mental. Sickness, therefore, becomes wholly mental, does it not? Death becomesmental. Sin is mental. Spirit, the Creator, is mental. Matter ismental. And we live and act in a mental realm, do we not? The sickman, then, becomes one who misses the mark, and therefore a sinner. Ithink you will agree with me that the sick man is not at peace withGod, if God is 'that which makes for righteousness. ' Surely the makerof that old Icelandic sixteenth-century Bible must have been inspiredwhen, translating from Luther's Bible, he wrote in the first chapterof Genesis, 'And God created man after His own likeness, in thelikeness of _Mind_ shaped He him. ' Cannot you see the foreshadowing towhich I have referred?"

Josè kept silence. The current of his thought seemed about to swervefrom its wonted course. 

"What is coming is this, " continued the explorer earnestly, "atremendous broadening of our concept of God, a more exalted, a moreworthy concept of Him as spirit--or, if you will, as mind. Anabandonment of the puerile concept of Him as a sort of magnified man, susceptible to the influence of preachers, or of Virgin and Saints, and yielding to their petitions, to their higher sense of justice, andto money-bought earthly ceremonies to lift an imaginary curse from Hisown creatures. And with it will come that wonderful consciousness ofHim which I now begin to realize that Jesus must have had, aconsciousness of Him as omnipotent, omnipresent good. As I to-day readthe teachings of Jesus I am constrained to believe that he wasconscious _only_ of God and God's spiritual manifestation. And in thatremarkable consciousness the man Jesus realized his own life--indeed, that consciousness _was_ his life--and it included no sense of evil. The great lesson which I draw from it is that evil must, therefore, beutterly unreal and non-existent. And heaven is but the acquisition ofthat mind or consciousness which was in Christ Jesus. "

"But, Mr. Hitt, such ideas are revolutionary!"

"True, if immediately and generally adopted. And so you see why theChurch strives to hold the people to its own archaic and innocuousreligious tenets; why your Church strives so zealously to hold itsadherents fast to the rules laid down by pagan emperors and ignorant, often illiterate churchmen, in their councils and synods; and why theProtestant church is so quick to denounce as unevangelical everythingthat does not measure to its devitalized concept of Christianity. Theydo not practice what they preach; yet they would not have youpractice anything else. The human mind that calls itself a Christianis a funny thing, isn't it?"

He laughed lightly; then lapsed into silence. The sea breeze rose andsighed among the great, incrusted arches. The restless waves moaned intheir eternal assault upon the defiant walls. The moon clouded, and awarm rain began to fall. Josè rose. "I must return to the dormitory, "he announced briefly. "When you pass me in the _plaza_ to-morrowevening, come at once to this place. I will meet you here. You have--Imust--"

But he did not finish. Pressing the explorer's hand, he turnedabruptly and hurried up the dim, narrow street. 

CHAPTER 14

All through the following day the priest mused over the conversationof the preceding night. The precipitation with which this newfriendship had been formed, and the subsequent abrupt exchange ofconfidences, had scarcely impressed him as unusual. He was whollyabsorbed by the radical thought which the man had voiced. He mulledover it in his wakeful hours that night. He could not prevent it fromcoloring the lecture which he delivered to his class in ancienthistory that day. And when the sun at length dropped behind La Popa, he hurried eagerly to the _plaza_. A few minutes later he and theex-clergyman met in the appointed rendezvous. 

"I dropped in to have a look at the remains of Pedro Claver to-day, "his new friend remarked. "The old sexton scraped and bowed with hugejoy as he led me behind the altar and lighted up the grewsome thing. Isuppose he believed that Pedro's soul was up in the clouds makingintercession with the Lord for him, while he, poor devil, was totingtourists around to gaze at the Saint's ghastly bones in their glasscoffin. The thing would be funny were it not for its sad side, namely, the dense and superstitious ignorance in which such as this poorsexton are held all their lives by your Church. It's a shame to feedthem with the bones of dead Saints, instead of with the bread of life!But, " he reflected, "I was myself just as bigoted at one time. And myzeal to convert the world to Protestantism was just as hot as any thatever animated the missionaries of your faith. "

He paused and looked quizzically at Josè. He seemed to be studying thelength to which he could go in his criticism of the ancient faith ofthe house of Rincón. But Josè remained in expectant silence. 

"Speaking of missionaries, " the man resumed, "I shall never forget anexperience I had in China. My wealthy and ultra-aristocraticcongregation decided that I needed rest, and so sent me on a worldtour. It was a member of that same congregation, by the way, a stuffyold dame whose wealth footed up to millions, who once remarked to mein all confidence that she had no doubt the aristocracy of heaven wascomposed of Presbyterians. Poor, old, empty-headed prig! What could Ido but assure her that I held the same comforting conviction! Well, through influential friends in Pekin I was introduced to the eminentChinese statesman, Wang Fo, of delightful memory. Our conversationturned on religion, and then I made the most inexcusable _faux pas_that a blithering Yankee could make, that of expressing regret that hewas not of our faith. Good heavens! But he was the most graciousgentleman in the world, and his biting rebuke was couched in tones ofsilken softness. 

"'What is it that you offer me?' he said mildly. 'Blind opinion?Undemonstrated and undemonstrable theory? Why, may I ask, do youcome over here to convert us heathen, when your own Christian landis rife with evil, with sedition, with religious hatred of man forman, with bloodshed and greed? If your religious belief is true, then you can demonstrate it--prove it beyond doubt. Do you saythat the wonderful material progress which your great countrymanifests is due to Christianity? I answer you, no. It is due tothe unfettering of the human mind, to the laying off of much ofthe mediaeval superstition which in the past ages has blightedmankind. It is due largely to the abandonment of much of what youare still pleased to call Christianity. The liberated human mindhas expanded to a degree never before seen in the world. We Chineseare still mentally fettered by our stubborn resistance to change, to progression. Your great inventors and your great men of financeare but little hampered by religious superstition. Hence themental flights which they so boldly undertake, and the stupendousachievements they attain. Is it not so?'

"What could I say? He had me. But he hadn't finished me quite. 

"'I once devoted much time to the study of Chemistry, ' he went onblandly, 'and when I tell you that there is a law to the effect thatthe volume of a gas is a function of its pressure I do so with thefull knowledge that I can furnish you indisputable proof therefor. Butwhen you come to me with your religious theories, and I mildly requestyour proofs, you wish to imprison or hang me for doubting theabsurdities which you cannot establish!'

"He laughed genially, then took me kindly by the arm. 'Proof, myzealous friend, proof, ' he said. 'Give me proof this side of the gravefor what you believe, and then you will have converted the heathen. And can your Catholic friend--or, shall I say enemy?--prove hislaughable doctrine of purgatory? The dead in purgatory dependent uponthe living! Why, I tell him, that smacks of Shintoism, wherein theliving feed the dead! Then he points in holy indignation to the Bible. Bah! Cannot I prove anything I may wish from your Bible? What willyou have? Polygamy? Incest? Murder? Graft? Hand me your Bible, andI will establish its divinity. No, my good friend. When you come tome with proofs that you really do the works of him whom you professto follow, then will I gladly listen, for I, too, seek truth. Butin the present deplorable absence of proofs I take much more comfortin the adoration of my amiable ancestors than I could in yourlaughable and undemonstrable religious creeds. '

"I left his presence a saddened but chastened man, and went home to doa little independent thinking. When I approached my Bible without thebias of the Westminster Confession I discovered that it did serveadmirably as a wardrobe in which to hang any sort of religiousprejudice. Continued study made me see that religious faith isgenerally mere human credulity. I discovered that in my pityingcontempt for those of differing belief I much resembled the Yankee whoridiculed a Chinaman for wearing a pig-tail. 'True, ' the Celestialreplied, 'we still wear the badge of our former slavery. But youemancipated Americans, do you not wear the badge of a present and muchworse form of slavery in your domination by Tammany Hall, by yourcorrupt politicians, and your organizers and protectors of crime?'

"As time passed I gradually began to feel much more kindly toward MatthewArnold, who said, 'Orthodox theology is an immense misunderstanding ofthe Bible. ' And I began likewise to respect his statement that our Biblelanguage is 'fluid and passing'--that much of it is the purest poetry, beautiful and inspiring, but symbolical. "

"But, " broke in Josè, "you must admit that there is something awfullywrong with the world, with--"

"Well, " interrupted Hitt, "and what is it? As historical fact, thatstory about Adam and Eve eating an apple and thereby bringing downGod's curse upon the whole innocent human race is but a figment oflittle minds, and an insult to divine intelligence. But, assymbolizing the dire penalty we pay for a belief in the reality ofboth good and evil--ah, that is a note just beginning to be sounded inthe world at large. And it may account for the presence of the world'sevil. "

"Yet, our experience certainly shows that evil is just as real andjust as immanent as good! And, indeed, more powerful in this life. "

"If so, " replied the explorer gravely, "then God created or institutedit. And in that case I must break with God. "

"Then you think it is all a question of our own individual idea ofGod?"

"Entirely. And human concepts of Him have been many and varied. Butthat worst of Old Testament interpreters of the first century, Philo, came terribly close to the truth, I think, when, in a burst ofinspiration, he one day wrote: 'Heaven is mind, and earth issensation. ' Matthew Arnold, I think, likewise came very close to thetruth when he said that the only God we can recognize is 'thatsomething not ourselves that makes for righteousness. ' And, as forevil, up in the United States there are some who are now lumping itall under the head of 'mortal mind, ' considering it all but the 'onelie' which Jesus so often referred to, and regarding it as the'suppositional opposite' of the mind that is God, and so, powerless. Not a bad idea, I think. But whether the money-loving Yankee will everleave his mad chase for gold long enough to live this premise and sodemonstrate it, is a question. I'm watching its development withintense interest. We in the States have wonderful, exceptionalopportunities for study and research. We ought to uncover the truth, if any people should. "

He fell into thoughtfulness again. Josè drew a long sigh. "I wish--Iwish, " he murmured, "that I might go there--that I might live and workand search up there. "

The explorer roused up. "And why not?" he asked abruptly. "Look here, come with me and spend a year or so digging around for buried Incatowns. Then we will go back to the States. Why, man! it would make youover. I'll take you as interpreter. And in the States I'll find aplace for you. Come. Will you?"

For a moment the doors of imagination swung wide, and in the burst oflight from within Josè saw the dreams of a lifetime fulfilled. Emancipation lay that way. Freedom, soul-expansion, truth. It was hisGod-given privilege. Who had the right to lay a detaining hand uponhim? Was not his soul his own, and his God's?

Then a dark hand stole out from the surrounding shadows and closed thedoors. From the blackness there seemed to rise a hollow voice, uttering the single word, _Honor_. He thrust out an arm, as if to wardoff the assaults of temptation. "No, no, " he said aloud, "I am boundto the Church!"

"But why remain longer in an institution with which you are quite outof sympathy?" the explorer urged. 

"First, to help the Church. Who will uplift her if we desert her? And, second, to help this, my ancestral country, " replied Josè in deepearnestness. 

"Worthy aims, both, " assented Hitt. "But, my friend, what will youaccomplish here, unless you can educate these people to think? I havelearned much about conditions in this country. I find that the priestin Colombia is even more intolerant than in Ireland, for here he has amonopoly, no competition. He is absolute. The Colombian is the logicalproduct of the doctrines of Holy Church. It is so in Mexico. It is sowherever the curse of a fixed mentality is imposed upon a people. Forthat engenders determined opposition to mobility. It quenchesresponsiveness to new concepts and new ideas. It throttles a nation. The bane of mental progress is the _Semper Idem_ of your Church. "

"Christianity will remove the curse. "

"I have no doubt whatever of that. It probably is the future cure forall social ills and evils of every sort. But if so, it must be theChristianity which Jesus taught and demonstrated--not the theologicalchaff now disseminated in his name. Do not forget that we no longerknow what Christianity is. It is a lost science. "

"It can and will be recovered!" cried Josè warmly. 

"I have said that is foreshadowed. But we must have the whole garmentof the Christ, without human _addenda_. He is reported as having said, 'The works that I do bear witness of me. ' Now the works of theChristian Church bear ample witness that she has not the trueunderstanding of the Christ. Nor has that eminent Protestant divine, now teaching in a theological seminary in the States, who recentlysaid that, although Jesus ministered miraculously to the physical man, yet it was not his intention that his disciples should continue thatsort of ministry; that the healing which Jesus did was whollyincidental, and was not an example to be permanently imitated. Goodheavens! how these poor theologians hide their inability to do theworks of the Master by taking refuge in such ridiculously unwarrantedassertions. To them the rule seems to be that, if you can't do a thingyou must deny the possibility of its being done. Great logic, isn'tit?

"And yet, " he went on, "the Church has had nearly two thousand yearsin which to learn to do the works of the Master. Pretty dull pupil, Ithink. And we've had nearly two thousand years of theology from thisslow pupil. Would that she would from now on give us a little realChristianity! Heavens! the world needs it. And yet, do you know, sectarian feeling is still so bitter in the so-called Church of Godthat if a Bishop of the Anglican Church should admit Presbyterians, Methodists, or members of other denominations to his communion table ascream of rage would go up all over England, and a mighty demand wouldbe raised to impeach the Bishop for heresy! Think of it! God above!the puny human mind. Do you wonder that the dogma of the Church haslost force? That, despite its thunders, thinking men laugh? I freelyadmit that our great need is to find an adequate substitute for theauthority which others would like to impose upon us. But where shallwe find such authority, if not in those who demonstrate their abilityto do the works of the Master? Show me your works, and I'll show youmy faith. This is my perpetual challenge. 

"But, now, " he said, "returning to the subject so near your heart: thecondition of this country is that of a large part of South America, where the population is unsettled, even turbulent, and where apriesthood, fanatical, intolerant, often unscrupulous, pursue theirdevious means to extend and perpetuate unhindered the sway of yourChurch. Colombia is struggling to remove the blight which Spain laidupon her, namely, mediaeval religion. It is this same blightingreligion, coupled with her remorseless greed, which has brought Spainto her present decrepit, empty state. And how she did strive to forcethat religion upon the world! Whole nations, like the Incas, forexample, ruthlessly slaughtered by the papal-benisoned riffraff ofSpain in her attempts to foist herself into world prestige and tobolster up the monstrous assumptions of Holy Church! The Incas were agrand nation, with a splendid mental viewpoint. But it withered underthe touch of the mediaeval narrowness fastened upon it. Whole nationswasted in support of papal assumptions--and do you think that the endis yet? Far from it! War is coming here in Colombia. It may come inother parts of this Western Hemisphere, certainly in Mexico, certainlyin Peru and Bolivia and Chili, rocked in the cradle of Holy Church forages, but now at last awaking to a sense of their backward conditionand its cause. If ever the Church had a chance to show what she coulddo when given a free hand, she has had it in these countries, particularly in Mexico. In all the nearly four centuries of herunmolested control in that fair land, oppressed by sword and crucifix, did she ever make an attempt worth the name to uplift and emancipatethe common man? Not one. She took his few, hard-earned _pesos_ to gethis weary soul out of an imagined purgatory--but she left him to rotin peonage while on earth! But, friend, I repeat, the struggle iscoming here in Colombia. And look you well to your own escape when itarrives!"

"And can I do nothing to help avert it?" cried the distressed Josè. 

"Well, " returned the explorer meditatively, "such bondage is removableeither through education or war. But in Colombia I fear the latterwill overtake the former by many decades. "

"Then rest assured that I shall in the meantime do what in me lies toinstruct my fellow-countrymen, and to avoid such a catastrophe!"

"Good luck to you, friend. And--by the way, here is a little book thatmay help you in your work. I'm quite sure you've never read it. Underthe ban, you know. Renan's _Vie de Jésus_. It can do you no harm, andmay be useful. "

Josè reached out and took the little volume. It was _anathema_, heknew, but he could not refuse to accept it. 

"And there is another book that I strongly recommend to you. I'm sorryI haven't a copy here. It once created quite a sensation. It iscalled, 'Confessions of a Roman Catholic Priest. ' Publishedanonymously, in Vienna, but unquestionably bearing the earmarks ofauthenticity. It mentions this country--"

Without speaking, Josè had slowly risen and started down the mustycorridor, his thought aflame with the single desire to get away. Downpast the empty barracks and gaping cells he went, without stopping topeer into their tenebrous depths--on and on, skirting the grim wallsthat typified the mediaevalism surrounding and fettering his restlessthought--on to the long incline which led up to the broad esplanade onthe summit. Must he forever flee this pursuing Nemesis? Or should hehurl himself from the wall, once he gained the top? At the upper endof the incline he heard the low sound of voices. A priest and a younggirl who sat there on the parapet rose as he approached. He stoppedabruptly in front of them. "Wenceslas!" he exclaimed. "And Maria!"

"Ah, _amigo_, a quiet stroll before retiring? It is a sultry night. "

"Yes, " slowly replied Josè, looking at the girl, who drew back intothe shadow cast by the body of her companion. Then, bowing, he passedon down the wall and disappeared in the darkness that shrouded thedistance. 

A few minutes later the long form of the explorer appeared above theincline. Wenceslas and the girl had departed. Seeing no one, theAmerican turned and descended to the ground, shaking his head in deepperplexity. 

CHAPTER 15

The next day was one of the Church's innumerable feast-days, and Josèwas free to utilize it as he might. He determined on a visit to thesuburb of Turbaco, some eight miles from Cartagena, and once the siteof Don Ignacio's magnificent country home. Although he had been somemonths in Cartagena, he had never before felt any desire to passbeyond its walls. Now it seemed to him that he must break thelimitation which those encircling walls typified, that his restlessthought might expand ere it formulated into definite concepts andplans for future work. This morning he wanted to be alone. The oldinjury done to his sensitive spirit by the publication of his journalhad been unwittingly opened anew. The old slowness had crept againinto his gait since the evening before. Over night his countenance hadresumed its wonted heaviness; and his slender shoulders bent againbeneath their former burden. 

When Josè arrived in Cartagena he had found it a city of vividcontrasts. There mediaevalism still strove with the spirit of modernprogress; and so it suited well as an environment for the dilation ofhis shrunken soul-arteries. The lethal influence of the monastery longlay over him, beneath which he continued to manifest those eccentrichabits which his prolonged state of loneliness had engendered. Helooked askance at the amenities which his associates tentatively heldout to him. He sank himself deep in study, and for weeks, even months, he shunned the world of people and things. He found no stimulus to asearch for his ancestral palace within the city, nor for a study ofthe Rincón records which lay moldering in the ancient city'sarchives. 

But, as the sunlit days drifted dreamily past with peaceful, unvaryingmonotony, Josè's faculties, which had always been alert until he hadbeen declared insane, gradually awakened. His violently disturbedbalance began to right itself; his equilibrium became in a measurerestored. The deadening thought that he had accomplished nothing inhis vitiated life yielded to a hopeful determination to yet retrievepast failure. The pride and fear which had balked the thought ofself-destruction now served to fan the flame of fresh resolve. Hedared not do any writing, it was true. But he could delve and study. And a thousand avenues opened to him through which he could serve hisfellow-men. The papal instructions which his traveling companion, theApostolic Delegate, had brought to the Bishop of Cartagena, evidentlyhad sufficed for his credentials; and the latter had made no occasionto refer to the priest's past. An order from the Vatican was law; andthe Bishop obeyed it with no other thought than its inerrancy andinexorability. And with the lapse of the several months which hadslipped rapidly away while he sought to forget and to clear from hismind the dark clouds of melancholia which had settled over it, Josèbecame convinced that the Bishop knew nothing of his career prior tohis arrival in Colombia. 

And it is possible that the young priest's secret would have died withhim--that he would have lived out his life amid the peaceful scenes ofthis old, romantic town, and gone to his long rest at last with theconsciousness of having accomplished his mite in the service of hisfellow-beings; it is possible that Rome would have forgotten him; andthat his uncle's ambitions, to which he knew that he had been regardedas in some way useful, would have flagged and perished over the waterywaste which separated the New World from the Old, but for theintervention of one man, who crossed Josè's path early in his newlife, found him inimical to his own worldly projects, and removed him, therefore, as sincerely in the name of Christ as the ancient_Conquistadores_, with priestly blessing, hewed from their paths ofconquest the simple and harmless aborigines. 

That man was Wenceslas Ortiz, trusted servant of Holy Church, who had established himself in Cartagena to keep a watchful eye onanticlerical proceedings. That he was able to do this, and at thesame time turn them greatly to his own advantage, marks him as a manof more than usually keen and resourceful mentality. He was anative son, born of prosperous parents in the riverine town ofMompox, which, until the erratic Magdalena sought for itself a newchannel, was the chief port between Barranquilla and the distantHonda. There had been neither family custom nor parental hopesto consider among the motives which had directed him into theChurch. He was a born worldling, but with unmistakable talents forand keen appreciation of the art of politics. His love of money wassubordinate only to his love of power. To both, his talents madeaccess easy. In the contemplation of a career in his early yearshe had hesitated long between the Church and the Army; but hadfinally thrown his lot with the former, as offering not onlyequal possibilities of worldly preferment and riches, but fargreater stability in those periodic revolutions to which hiscountry was so addicted. The Army was frequently overthrown; theChurch, never. The Government changed with every successfulpolitical revolution; the Church remained immovable. And so withthe art of a trained politician he cultivated his chosen field withsuch intensity that even the Holy See felt the glow of his ardor, and in recognition of his marked abilities, his pious fervor andgreat influence, was constrained to place him just where he wishedto be, at the right hand of the Bishop of Cartagena, and probablesuccessor to that aged incumbent, who had grown to lean heavilyand confidingly upon him. 

As coadjutor, or suffragan to the Bishop of Cartagena, Wenceslas Ortizhad at length gathered unto himself sufficient influence of diversnature as, in his opinion, to ensure him the See in case the bishopricshould, as was contemplated, be raised eventually to the status of aMetropolitan. It was he, rather than the Bishop, who distributedparishes to ambitious pastors and emoluments to greedy politicians. His irons in ecclesiastical, political, social and commercial fireswere innumerable. The doctrine of the indivisibility of Church andState had in him an able champion--but only because he thereby found asure means of increasing his prestige and augmenting his power andwealth. His methods of work manifested keenness, subtlety, shrewdnessand skill. His rewards were lavish. His punishments, terrible. Thelatter smacked of the Inquisition: he preferred torture to quickdespatch. 

It had not taken Wenceslas long to estimate the character of thenewcomer, Josè. Nor was he slow to perceive that this liberal pietistwas cast in an unusual mold. Polity necessitated the cultivation ofJosè, as it required the friendship--or, in any event, the thoroughappraisement--of every one with whom Wenceslas might be associated. But the blandishments, artifice, diplomacy and hints of advancementswhich he poured out in profusion upon Josè he early saw would failutterly to penetrate the armor of moral reserve with which the priestwas clad, or effect in the slightest degree the impression which theywere calculated to make. 

In the course of time the priest became irritating; later, annoying;and finally, positively dangerous to the ambitions of Wenceslas. For, to illustrate, Josè had once discovered him, in the absence of theBishop, celebrating Mass in a state of inebriation. This irritated. Wenceslas had only been careless. Again, Josè had several times shownhimself suspicious of his fast-and-loose methods with the rivalpolitical factions of Cartagena. This was annoying. Finally, he hadcome upon Josè in the market place a few weeks prior, in earnestconference with Marcelena and the girl, Maria; and subsequentconversation with him developed the fact that the priest had otherdark suspicions which were but too well founded. This was dangerous. It was high time to prepare for possible contingencies. 

And so, in due time, carefully wording his hint that Padre Josè deRincón might be a Radical spy in the ecclesiastical camp, Wenceslasfound means to obtain from Rome a fairly comprehensive account ofthe priest's past history. He mused over this until an idea suddenlyoccurred to him, namely, the similarity of this account with many ofthe passages which he had found in a certain book, "The Confessionsof a Roman Catholic Priest"--a book which had cast the shadow ofdistrust upon Wenceslas himself in relation to certain matters ofecclesiastical politics in Colombia nearly three years before, andat a most unfortunate time. Indeed, this sudden, unheraldedexposure had forced him to a hurried recasting of certain cherishedplans, and drawn from him a burning, unquenchable desire to lay hispious hands upon the writer. 

His influence with Rome at length revealed the secret of the wretchedbook's authorship. And from the moment that he learned it, Josè's fatewas sealed. The crafty politician laughed aloud as he read thepriest's history. Then he drew his plans and waited. But in theinterim he made further investigations; and these he extended far backinto the ancestral history of this unfortunate scion of the oncepowerful house of Rincón. 

Meantime, a few carefully chosen words to the Bishop aroused a dullinterest in that quarter. Josè had been seen mingling freely with menof very liberal political views. It would be well to warn him. Again, weeks later, Wenceslas was certain, from inquiries made among thestudents, that Josè's work in the classroom bordered a trifle tooclosely on radicalism. It were well to admonish him. And, still later, happening to call at Josè's quarters just above his own in theecclesiastical dormitory, and not finding him in, he had been struckby the absence of crucifix or other religious symbol in the room. Wasthe young priest becoming careless of his example?

And now, on this important feast-day, where was Padre Josè? On thepreceding evening, as Wenceslas leaned over the parapet of the wallafter his surprise by Josè, he had noted in the dim light the salientfeatures of a foreigner who, he had just learned, was registered atthe Hotel Mariano from the United States. Moreover, Wenceslas had justcome from Josè's room, whither he had gone in search of him, and--maythe Saints pardon his excess of holy zeal which impelled him toexamine the absent priest's effects!--he had returned now to theBishop bearing a copy of Renan's _Vie de Jésus_, with the American'sname on the flyleaf. It certainly were well to admonish Padre Josèagain, and severely!

The Bishop, hardly to the surprise of his crafty coadjutor, flew intoa towering rage. He was a man of irascible temper, bitterlyintolerant, and unreasoningly violent against all unbelievers, especially Americans whose affairs brought them to Colombia. In thisrespect he was the epitome of the ecclesiastical anti-foreignsentiment which obtained in that country. His intolerance of hereticswas such that he would gladly have bound his own kin to the stake hadhe believed their opinions unorthodox. Yet he was thoroughlyconscientious, a devout churchman, and saturated with the beliefs ofpapal infallibility and the divine origin of the Church. In theobservance of church rites and ceremonies he was unremitting. In thesoul-burning desire to witness the conversion of the world, andespecially to see the lost children of Europe either coaxed or beatenback into the embrace of Holy Church, his zeal amounted to fanaticism. In the present case--

"Your Eminence, " suggested the suave Wenceslas to his exasperatedsuperior, "may I propose that you defer action until I can discoverthe exact status of this American?"

And the Bishop forthwith placed the whole matter in his trustedassistant's helpful hands. 

Meantime, Josè and the American explorer sat in the shade of amagnificent palm on a high hill in beautiful Turbaco, looking out overthe shimmering sea beyond. For Hitt had wandered into the _Plaza deCoches_ just as Josè was taking a carriage, and the latter could notwell refuse his proffered companionship for the day. Yet Josè fearedto be seen in broad daylight with this stranger, and he involuntarilymurmured a _Loado sea Dios_! when they reached Turbaco, as hebelieved, unobserved. He did not know that a sharp-eyed youngnovitiate, whom Wenceslas had detailed to keep the priest undersurveillance, had hurried back to his superior with the report ofJosè's departure with the _Americano_ on this innocent pleasurejaunt. 

"Say no more, my friend, in apology for your abrupt departure lastevening, " the explorer urged. "But tell me, rather, about yourillustrious grandfather who had his country seat in this delightfulspot. Why, man! this is paradise. I've a notion to come here to livesome day. "

Josè cast his apprehensions upon the soft ocean breeze, and gavehimself up to the inspiriting influence of his charming environment. He dwelt at length upon the Rincón greatness of mediaeval days, andexpressed the resolve sometime to delve into the family records whichhe knew must be hidden away in the moldering old city of Cartagena. "But now, " he concluded, after another reference to the Church, "isColombia to witness again the horror of those days of carnage? Andover the human mind's interpretation of the Christ? God forbid!"

The American shook his head dubiously. "There is but oneremedy--education. Not sectarian, partisan, worldly education--notinstruction in relative truths and the chaff of materialisticspeculation--but that sort of education whereby the selfish human mindis lifted in a measure out of itself, out of its petty jealousies andenvyings, out of sneaking graft and touting for worldly emolument, andinto a sense of the eternal truth that real prosperity and soundnessof states and institutions are to be realized only when theChrist-principle, 'Love thy neighbor as thyself, ' is made the measureof conduct. There is a tremendous truth which has long since beendemonstrated, and yet which the world is most woefully slow to grasp, namely, that the surest, quickest means of realizing one's ownprosperity and happiness is in that of others--not in a world to come, but right here and now. "

"But that means the inauguration of the millennium, " protested Josè. 

"Well, and why not so?" returned the explorer calmly. "Has not thatbeen the ultimate aim of Christianity, and of all serious effort forreform for the past two thousand years? And, do you know, themillennium could be ushered in to-morrow, if men only thought so?Within an incredibly short time evil, even to death itself, could becompletely wiped off the earth. But this wiping-off process must takeplace in the minds and thoughts of men. Of that I am thoroughlyconvinced. But, tell me, have you ever expressed to the Bishop yourviews regarding the condition of this country?"

Josè flushed. "Yes, " he replied in embarrassment. "Only a week ago Itried again to convince him of the inevitable trend of events hereunless drastic measures were interposed by the Church. I had evenlectured on it in my classes. "

"Well, what did he say?"

"The Bishop is a man of very narrow vision, " replied Josè. "He rebukedme severely and truculantly bade me confine my attention to theparticular work assigned me and let affairs of politics alone. Ofcourse, that meant leaving them to his assistant, Wenceslas. Mr. Hitt, Colombia needs a Luther!"

"Just so, " returned the explorer gravely. "Priestcraft from the veryearliest times has been one of the greatest curses of mankind. Itsabuses date far back to Egyptian times, when even prostitution wascountenanced by the priests, and when they practiced all sorts ofimpostures upon the ignorant masses. In the Middle Ages they turnedChristianity, the richest of blessings, into a snare, a delusion, arank farce. They arrogated to themselves all learning, all science. InPeru it was even illicit for any one not belonging to the nobility toattempt to acquire learning. That was the sole privilege of priestsand kings. In all nations, from the remotest antiquity, and whethercivilized or not, learning has been claimed by the priests as theunique privilege of their caste--a privilege bestowed upon them by thespecial favor of the ruling deity. That's why they always sought tosurround their intellectual treasures with a veil of mystery. RogerBacon, the English monk, once said that it was necessary to keep thediscoveries of the philosophers from those unworthy of knowing them. How did he expect a realization of 'Thy kingdom come, ' I wonder?"

"They didn't expect it to come--on earth, " said Josè. 

"No. They relegated that to the imagined realm which was to be enteredthrough the gateway of death. It's mighty convenient to be able torelegate your proofs to that mysterious realm beyond the grave. Thathas always been a tremendous power in the hands of priests of alltimes and lands. By the way, did you know that the story of Abel'sassassination was one of many handed down, in one form or another, bythe priests of India and Egypt?"

"Do you mean it?" inquired Josè eagerly. 

"Certainly. The story doubtless comes from the ancient Egyptian talewhich the priests of that time used to relate regarding the murderof Osiris by his brother, Set. It was a deed of jealousy. The storylater became incorporated into the sacred books of India and Egypt, and was afterward taken over by the Hebrews, when they were captivesin Egypt. The Hebrews learned much of Egyptian theology, and theirown religion was greatly tinctured by it subsequently. The legend ofthe deluge, for example, is another tradition of those primitivedays, and credited by the nations of antiquity. But here there is thelikelihood of a connection with the great cataclysm of antiquity, the disappearance of the island of Atlantis in consequence of aviolent earthquake and volcanic action. This alleged island, supposed to be a portion of the strip at one time connecting SouthAmerica with Africa, is thought to have sunk beneath the waters ofthe present Atlantic ocean some nine thousand years before Solonvisited Egypt, and hence, some eleven thousand years ago. Anyway, the story of this awful catastrophe got into the Egyptian recordsin the earliest times, and was handed down to the Hebrews, whoprobably based their story of the flood upon it. You see, there is afoundation of some sort for all those legends in the book of Genesis. The difficulty has been that humanity has for centuries childishlyaccepted them as historical fact. For example, the serpent story. Now in very primitive times the serpent was the special emblem ofKneph, the creator of the world, and was regarded as a sort ofgood genius. It is still so regarded by the Chinese, who make of itone of their most beautiful symbols, the dragon. Later it became theemblem of Set, the slayer of Osiris; and after that it was lookedupon with horror as the enemy of mankind, the destroyer, the evilprinciple. Hence, in Egypt, the Hebrew captives adopted the serpentas emblematical of evil, and later used it in their scripturalrecords as the evil genius that tempted Eve and brought about thefall of man. And so all people whose religious beliefs are foundedupon the Hebrew Bible now look upon the serpent as the symbol ofevil. Jews, Christians, and Mohammedans thus regard it. "

Josè gazed at the man with rapt interest. "Don't stop!" he urged. "Goon! go on!"

Hitt laughed. "Well, " he resumed, "the tree and the serpent wereworshiped all through eastern countries, from Scandinavia to theAsiatic peninsula and down into Egypt. And, do you know, we even findvestiges of such worship in America? Down in Adams county, Ohio, onthe banks of Brush creek, there is a great mound, called the serpentmound. It is seven hundred feet long, and greatly resembles the one inGlen Feechan, Argyleshire, Scotland. It also resembles the one I foundin the ancient city of Tiahuanuco, whose ruins lie at an elevation ofsome thirteen thousand feet above the Pacific ocean, on the shores ofLake Titicaca, near the Bolivian frontier. This ancient city ages agosent out colonists all over North and South America. These primitivepeople believed that a serpent emitted an egg from its mouth, and thatthe earth was born of that egg. Now the serpent mound in Ohio has anegg in its mouth. What is the logical inference?"

"You don't mean it!" exclaimed Josè, his eyes wide with astonishment. 

Hitt laughed again in evident enjoyment of the priest's wonder. Thenhe resumed: "It has been established to my entire satisfaction thatthe ancient Egyptians and the Mayas of Central and South America usedalmost identical symbols. And from all antiquity, and by all nations, the symbols of the tree and serpent and their worship have been soclosely identified as to render it certain that their origin is thesame. What, then, are the serpent and tree of knowledge in the HebrewBible but an outgrowth of this? The tree of life, of civilization, ofknowledge, was placed in the middle of the land, of the 'garden, ' ofthe primitive country of the race, Mayax. And the empire of the Mayaswas situated between the two great continents of North and SouthAmerica. These people spread out in all directions. They populated thethen existing island of Atlantis. And when the terrible earthquakeoccurred, whereby this island was sunk beneath the waves of theAtlantic ocean, why, to these people the world had been drowned! Thestory got to Egypt, to Chaldea, and to India. Hence the deluge recordof Genesis. "

"But, these primitive people, how ancient are they?" queried Josè. 

"No one can form any adequate estimate, " said Hitt in reply. "Thewonderful city of Tiahuanuco was in ruins when Manco Capac laid thefoundations of the Inca empire, which was later devastated by theSpaniards. And the Indians told the Spaniards that it had beenconstructed by giants before the sun shone in heaven. "

"Astonishing!" exclaimed Josè. "Such facts as these--if facts theybe--relegate much of the Scriptural authority to the realm of legendand myth!"

"Quite so, " returned the explorer. "When the human mind of thiscentury forces itself to approach a subject without prejudice or bias, and without the desire to erect or maintain a purely human institutionat whatever cost to world-progress, then it finds that much of thehampering, fettering dogma of mediaevalism now laid upon it by theChurch becomes pure fiction, without justifiable warrant or basis. Remember, the Hebrew people gave us the Old Testament, in which theyhad recorded for ages their tribal and national history, their poetry, their beliefs and hopes, as well as their legends, gathered from allsources. We have likewise the historical records of other nations. Butthe Hebrew possessed one characteristic which differentiated him fromall other people. He was a monotheist, and he saw his God in everything, every event, every place. His concept of God was hislife-motif. This concept evolved slowly, painfully, throughout thecenturies. The ancient Hebrew patriarchs saw it as a variable God, changeful, fickle, now violently angry, now humbly repentant, nowmaking contracts with mankind, now petulantly destroying His ownhandiwork. He was a God who could order the slaughter of innocentbabes, as in the book of Samuel; or He was a tender, merciful Father, as in the Psalms. He could harden hearts, wage bloody wars, walk withmen 'in the cool of the day, ' create a universe with His fist, orspend long days designing and devising the material utensils andfurniture of sacrifice to be used in His own worship. In short, mensaw in Him just what they saw in themselves. They saw but their mentalconcept. The Bible records humanity's changing, evolving concept ofGod, of that 'something not ourselves which makes for righteousness. 'And this concept gradually changed from the magnified God-man of theOld Testament, a creature of human whims and passions, down to thatheld by the man of Nazareth, a new and beautiful concept of God aslove. This new concept Jesus joyously gave to a sin-weary world thathad utterly missed the mark. But it cost him his earthly life to doit. And the dark record of the so-called Christian Church, bothProtestant and Catholic, contains the name of many a one who has paidthe same penalty for a similar service of love. 

"The Chaldeans and Egyptians, " he went on, after a moment's reflectivepause, "gave the Hebrews their account of the creation of theuniverse, the fall of man, the flood, and many other bits of mythicallore. And into these stories the Hebrews read the activity of theirGod, and drew from them deep moral lessons. Egypt gave the Hebrews atleast a part of the story of Joseph, as embodied in the hieroglyphicswhich may be read on the banks of the Nile to-day. They probably alsogave the Hebrews the account of the creation found in the secondchapter of Genesis, for to this day you can see in some of the oldestEgyptian temples pictures of the gods making men out of lumps of clay. The discovery of the remains of the 'Neanderthal man' and the 'Ape-manof Java' now places the dawn of human reason at a period some three tofive hundred thousand years prior to our present century, and, combined with the development of the science of geology, which showsthat the total age of the earth's stratified rocks alone cannot bemuch less than fifty-five millions of years, serves to cast additionalridicule upon the Church's present attitude of stubborn adherence tothese prehistoric scriptural legends as literal, God-given fact. But, to make the right use of these legends--well, that is another thing. "

"And that?"

The explorer hesitated. "I find it difficult to explain, " he said atlength. "But, remember what I have already said, there is, there_must_ be, a foundation beneath all these legends which admonishmankind to turn from evil to good. And, as I also said, thatfoundation must be very broad. I have said that I was in search of areligion. Why not, you may ask, accept the religious standard whichJesus set? That was the new concept of God as love. Very good. I amquite convinced that love is _the_ religion, _the_ tie which binds allthings together and to a common source and cause. And I am equallyconvinced that Jesus is the only person recorded in history who everlived a life of pure reflection of the love which he called God. Andso you see why I am chipping and hewing away at the theologicalconception of the Christ, and trying to get at the reality buried deepbeneath in the theological misconceptions of the centuries. I am quiteconvinced that if men loved one another, as Jesus bade them do, allwar, strife, disease, poverty, and discord of every sort would vanishfrom human experience. But--and here is a serious question--did Jesusask the impossible? Did he command us to love the sinful, erringmortal whom we see in our daily walk--or did he--did he have a newthought, namely, that by loving the real man, for which, perhaps, thishuman concept stands in the human mind, _that this very act wouldchange that distorted concept and cause it to yield its place to thereal one_? I believe Jesus to have been the wisest man who ever trodthis earth. But I likewise believe that no man has ever been moredeplorably misunderstood, misquoted, and misinterpreted than he. Andso I am delving down, down beneath the mass of human conjecture andridiculous hypothesis which the Church Fathers and our own theologianshave heaped up over this unique character, if perchance I may some daydiscover just what he was, just what he really said, and just what themessage which he sought to convey to mankind. "

He leaned over and laid a hand on Josè's arm. "My young friend, " hesaid earnestly, "I believe there are meanings in the life and words ofJesus of which the Church in its astounding self-sufficiency has nevereven dreamed. Did he walk on the water? Did he feed the multitude witha few loaves? Did he raise Lazarus? Did he himself issue from thetomb? No more momentous questions were ever asked than these. For, ifso, _then the message of Jesus has a bearing on the material universe, on the human mind, and the whole realm of thought that is utterlyrevolutionary_! What was that message? Did the man's own apostles andimmediate followers understand it? Did Paul? Certain we are, however, that the theology which Rome gave to her barbarian conquerors waswholly different from that taught by Jesus and his disciples. And weknow that the history of Europe from the fall of the Roman Empire downto the Franco-Prussian war is largely a recital of the development ofthe religious beliefs which Rome handed down to her conquerors, andtheir influence upon the human mind. These beliefs constitute theworking hypothesis of that institution known to-day as the Holy RomanCatholic Church, and its separated offshoots, the Greek Catholic andthe Protestant Churches, including the numberless ramifications anddivisions of the latter. The question as to whether eternal salvationis a function of complete immersion of the human body, or only agentle sprinkling, appears most lamentably puerile in the face of thetremendous revolutionary truths hinted by the deeds of Jesus, assumingthat he has been correctly reported in the Gospels. No; Renan, in his_Vie de Jésus_, which I gave you last night, missed it. Before him, Voltaire and countless other critics of man-made theology missed it. The writings of these men do serve, however, to mow down thetheological stubble in the world's field of thought. What is it, thisgigantic truth which Jesus brought? I do not know. But he himself isreported to have said, 'If ye keep my commands, ye shall know of thedoctrine. ' And his chief command was, _that we love God and ourfellow-men_. I have no doubt whatever that, when we follow thiscommand, we shall know of the doctrine which he came to establish inthe hearts of men. "

"But his message was the brotherhood of man, " said Josè. 

"Nay, " replied the explorer, "it was the _fatherhood_ of God, rather. For that includes the brotherhood of man. But, while we agreethus far, who can say what the fatherhood of God implies? Who, realizing that this was Jesus' message, knows how to make itpractical, as he did? To him it meant--ah, what did it not mean! Itmeant a consciousness that held _not one trace of evil_. It meant aconsciousness of God as omnipotent power, the irresistible powerof good, which, in the form of spirit, or mind, as some will have it, is ever present. Is it not so? Well, then, who is there to-day, within the Church or without, who understands the divine message ofthe fatherhood of God sufficiently to acquire such a consciousness, and to make the intensely practical application of the message toevery problem of mind, or body, or environment? Who to-day in yourChurch or mine, for example, realizes that Jesus must have seensomething in matter far different from the solid, indestructible thingthat we think we see, and that this was due to his understanding ofthe immanence of his Father as spirit--an understanding which enabledhim to walk on the waves, and to treat material things as if theywere not? No, my friend, the Christ-message of the fatherhood of Godis hardly apprehended in the world to-day in the slightest degree bypriest or prelate, church or sect. And yet, the influence of Jesus istremendous!"

Josè's brow knit in perplexity. "I--I don't believe I follow you, quite, " he said. 

"I am not surprised, " replied the explorer gently. "I sometimes wonderif I understand myself just what it is that I am trying to express. Mybelief is still in a state of transition. I am still searching. Thefield has been cleared. And now--now I am waiting for the new seed. Ihave abandoned forever the sterile, non-productive religious beliefsof current theology. I have abandoned such belittling views of God asthe Presbyterian sublapsarian view of election. I have turned wearilyfrom the puerile dogma of your Church as unworthy of the Father ofJesus. From delving into the mysteries of the Brahminism of India, ofancestor-worship in Japan, of Confucianism in China, of Islamism inthe far East, I have come back to the wonderful man of Nazareth. Andnow I am trying to see what Christianity would be if purged of itsadulterations--purged of the Greek philosophy of the early Fathers; ofthe forgeries of the Middle Ages; of the pagan ceremonialism andpriestly rites and assumptions of power to save or damn in thispresent century. And what do I find, after all this rubbish has beenfiltered out? Love, friend--love; the unfathomable love of the Fatherof Jesus, who knows no evil, no sin, no sickness, no death, no hell, no material heaven, but whose kingdom is the harmonious realm ofspirit, or mind, wherein the individual consciousness knows no discordof any name or nature. "

The afternoon haze had been long gathering when Josè roused the sleeping_cochero_ and prepared to return to the stifling ecclesiasticalatmosphere from which for a brief day he had been so happily free. Acold chill swept over him when he took his seat in the carriage, andhe shuddered as if with an evil presentiment. 

"And you still adhere to your determination to remain in the Church?"his friend asked, as they turned from the green hills and noddingpalms of Turbaco, and set their course, toward the distant mediaevalcity. 

"Yes, " came the scarcely audible reply. But as Josè spoke, he knewthat his mind had that day been stripped of its last remaining vestigeof the old theology, leaving it bare, exposed--and receptive. 

 * * * * *

A week passed. The explorer had gone, as silently and unannounced ashe had come. The evening before his departure he and Josè had satagain in the thick shadows of the old wall. The next morning he was onthe mighty river; and the priest was left with a great void in hisheart. 

One noon, as Josè was returning from his classes, he pondered deeplythe last words of the explorer, "Remember, nothing that has beeninvented by mankind or evolved by the human mind can stand, or remain. We might just as well accept that great fact now as later, and adjustourselves to it. But the things of the spirit remain. And Paul hastold us what they are. "

As he passed slowly along the winding little street toward thedormitory, a messenger approached him with a summons from the Bishop. He turned and started wonderingly toward the Cathedral. He had beenreprimanded once, twice, for the liberal views which he had expressedto his classes. Was he to receive another rebuke now? He had tried tobe more careful of late. Had he been seen with the explorer?

An hour later, his eyes set and unseeing, and his thin lips trembling, Josè dragged himself up the stone steps to his little room and threwhimself upon the bed. The bonds which had been slowly, imperceptiblytightening during these few months of precious liberty had been drawnsuddenly taut. The Bishop, in the _rôle_ of _Inquisitor Natus_, hadjust revealed a full knowledge of his dismal past, and had summarilydismissed him from the University faculty. Josè, bewildered andstunned, had tried vainly to defend himself. Then, realizing hisimpotence before the uncompromising bigotry of this cholericecclesiastic, he had burst suddenly into a torrent of frenzieddeclarations of his undeserved wrongs, of his resolve now to renouncehis oath, to leave the Church, to abandon honor, family, everythingthat held or claimed him, and to flee into unknown and unknowingparts, where his harassed soul might find a few years of rest beforeits final flight! The Bishop became bitterly and implacablyinfuriated, and remanded the excited priest to his room to reflectupon his wild words, and to await the final disposition of hiscase--unless he should have determined already to try the deviousroute of apostasy. 

Rising the next morning at dawn from the chill floor where he hadspent the torturing hours of an interminable night, and still clingingforlornly to his battered sense of honor and family pride, Josè againreceived the Bishop's summons; and, after the events of the morningalready related, faced the angry churchman's furious tirade, and withit, what he could not have imagined before, a charge of hideousimmorality. Then had been set before him a choice between apostasy andacceptance of the assignment to the parish of far-off Simití. 

"And now, unpitying Fate, " he murmured, as the door of the Bishop's_sanctum_ closed behind him, and he wandered down through the gloom ofthe quiet Cathedral, "receive your victim. You have chosen well yourcarnal instruments--pride--ecclesiasticism--lust! My crimes? Aye, thevery lowest; for I have loved liberty of thought and conscience; Ihave loved virtue and honor; the pursuits of intellect; the fair; thenoble; yea, the better things of life. I have loved my fellow-men; andI have sought their emancipation from the thraldom of ignorance. Ihave loved truth, and the Christ who revealed it to the dull minds ofmortals. Enough! I stand convicted! And--I accept the sentence--I haveno desire to resist it. For the end is now not distant!"

CHAPTER 16

The tropical moon shone in her fullness from an unclouded sky. Throughthe ethereal atmosphere which bathed the storied city her beams fell, plashing noiselessly upon the grim memorials of a stirring past. Witha mantle of peace they gently covered the former scenes of violenceand strife. With magic, intangible substance they filled out the rentsin the grassy walls and smoothed away the scars of battle. The paleluster, streaming through narrow barbican and mildewed arch, touchedthe decaying ruin of San Felipe with the wand of enchantment, andrestored it to pristine freshness and strength. Through the stillnessof night the watery vapor streamed upward from garden and _patio_, andmingled with the scent of flushing roses and tropical buds in afragrant mist suffused with the moon's yellow glow. 

On the low parapet bordering the eastern esplanade of the city wallthe solitary figure of the priest cast a narrow shadow in the palemoonlight. The sounds which eddied the enveloping silence seemed toecho in his ears the tread of mediaeval warriors. In the wraith-likeshadows he saw the armored forms of _Conquistadores_ in mortal strifewith vulpine buccaneers. In the whirring of the bats which flouted hisface he heard the singing of arrows and the hiss of hurled rocks. Inthe moan of the ocean as it broke on the coral reef below sounded theboom of cannon, the curses of combatants, and the groans of the dying. Here and there moved tonsured monks, now absolving in the name of thepeaceful Christ the frenzied defenders of the Heroic City, now turningto hurl curses at the swarming enemy and consign their blackened soulsto deepest hell, while holding images of the crucified Saviour to thequivering lips of stricken warriors. 

In the fancied combat raging in the moonlight before him he saw thesons of the house of Rincón manifesting their devotion to Sovereignand Pope, their unshaken faith in Holy Church, their hot zeal whichmade them her valiant defenders, her support, her humble and devotedslaves for more than three centuries. 

What was the charm by which she had held them? And why had its potencyfailed utterly when directed to him? But they were men of physicalaction, not thought--men of deeds which called only for brave heartsand stout bodies. It is true, there had been thinkers in those days, when the valiant sons of Rincón hurled the enemy from Cartagena'swalls--but they lay rotting in dungeons--they lay broken on the rack, or hung breathing out their souls to God amid the hot flames which Hisself-appointed vicars kindled about them. The Rincóns of that day hadnot been thinkers. But the centuries had finally evolved from theirnumber a man of thought. Alas! the evolution had developed intellect, it is true--but the process had refined away the rugged qualities ofanimal strength which, without a deeper hold on Truth and the way todemonstrate it than Josè possessed, must leave him the plaything ofFate. 

Young in years, but old in sorrow; held by oaths which his ever-accusingsense of honor would not let him break; trembling for his mother'ssake, and for the sake of Rincón pride, lest the ban of excommunicationfall upon him; yet little dreaming that Rome had no thought of thiswhile his own peculiar elements of character bound him as they didto her; the man had at last yielded his life to the system which hadwrecked it in the name of Christ, and was now awaiting the morrow, whenthe boat should bear him to far-off Simití. He went resignedly--evenwith a dull sense of gladness--for he went to die. Life had yieldedhim nothing--and constituted as he was, it could hold nothing for himin the future. 

The glorious moon poured its full splendor upon the quiet city. Through the haze the convent on La Popa sparkled like an enchantedcastle, with a pavement of soft moonbeams leading up to its doors. Thetrill of a distant nightingale rippled the scented air; and from the_llanos_ were borne on the warm land breeze low feral sounds, brokennow and then by the plaintive piping of a lonely toucan. The cocoapalms throughout the city stirred dreamily in the tempered moonlight;and the banana trees, bending with their luscious burden, cast great, mysterious shadows, wherein insect life rustled and scampered innocturnal activity. 

"Padre Josè!"

A woman's voice called from below. The priest leaned over the wall. 

"It is Catalina. I have been hunting everywhere. Maria is calling foryou. She cannot live long. You will come?"

Come? Yes--ah, why did he let his own misery blind him to the sorrowof others even more unfortunate! Why had he forgotten the littleMaria! Descending the broad incline to the road below, Josè hurriedwith the woman to the bedside of the dying girl. On the way thewarm-hearted, garrulous Catalina relieved her troubled and angeredsoul. 

"Padre Lorenzo came this morning. He would not shrive her unless wewould pay him first. He said he would do it for ten _pesos_--thenfive--and then three. And when we kept telling him that we had nomoney he told us to go out and borrow it, or he would leave the littleMaria to die as she was. He said she was a vile sinner anyway--thatshe had not made her Easter duty--that she could not have theSacrament--and her soul would go straight to hell--and there was noredemption! Then he came again this afternoon and said she must die;but he would shrive her for two _pesos_. And when we told him we couldnot borrow the money he was terribly angry, and cursed--and Marcelenawas frightened--and the little Maria almost died. But I told him togo--that her little soul was whiter than his--and if he went to heavenI didn't want Maria to go there too--and--!"

The woman's words burned through the priest's ears and into hissickened soul. Recovering her breath, Catalina went on:

"It is only a few days ago that the little Maria meets Sister Isabelin the _plaza_. 'Ah, ' says Sister Isabel, 'you are going to be amother. '

"'Yes, Sister, ' answers the little Maria, much confused; and she triesto hide behind Marcelena. 

"'It is very dangerous and you will suffer much unless you have asacred cord of Saint Frances, ' says the Sister. 'I will bring youone. '

"And then she asks where the little Maria lives; and that very day shebrings a piece of rope, with knots in it, which she says the priesthas blessed, and it is a sacred cord of Saint Frances, and if thelittle Maria will wear it around her waist she will not suffer at theparturition; and the little Maria must pay a _peso oro_ for it--andthe scared little lamb paid it, for she had saved a little money whichDon Carlos Ojeda gave her for washing--and she wore it when the babewas born; but it didn't help her--"

"_Dios!_" ejaculated the priest. 

"And Marcelena had paid a _peso y medio_, " continued the excitedwoman, "for a candle that Sister Natalia told her had come from thealtar of the Virgin of Santander and was very holy and would help onethrough confinement. But the candle went out; and it was only a roundstick of wood with a little piece of candle on the end. And I--Padre, I could not help it, I would do anything for the poor child--I paidtwo _pesos oro_ for a new _escapulario_ for her. Sister Natalia saidit was very holy--it had been blessed by His Grace, the Bishop, justfor women who were to be mothers, and it would carry them through--butif they died, it would take them right out of purgatory--and--!"

"Catalina!" interrupted the tortured priest. "Say no more!"

"But, Padre, the babe, " the woman persisted. "What will become of it?And--do you know?--Padre Lorenzo says _it is yours!_ He told Juanitaso--she lives below us. But Maria says no. She has told onlyMarcelena--and Marcelena will never tell. Who is its father, Padre?"

The priest, recognizing the inevitable, patiently resigned himself tothe woman's talk without further reply. Presently they turned into theCalle Lazano, and entering the house where Marcelena had greeted himthat morning, mounted to the chamber above where lay the littleMaria. 

A single candle on a table near the head of the bed shed a flickering, uncertain light. But the window was open, and the moon's beams pouredinto the room in golden profusion. Aside from the girl, there were noother occupants than Marcelena and the new-born child. 

"Padre, " murmured the passing girl, "you will not let me die withoutthe Sacrament?"

"No, child, " replied the priest, bending over her, hot tears streamingdown his cheeks as she kissed his hand. 

The girl had been beautiful, a type of that soft, southern beauty, whose graces of form, full, regular features, and rich olive tint markthem as truly Spanish, with but little admixture of inferior blood. Her features were drawn and set now; but her great, brown eyes whichshe raised to the priest were luminous with a wistful eagerness thatin this final hour became sacred. 

"Marcelena, " the priest hurriedly whispered to the woman. "I haveno--but it matters not now; she need not know that I come unprepared. She must pass out of the world happy at last. "

"There is a drop of wine that the doctor left; and I will fetch a bitof bread, " replied the woman, catching the meaning of the priest'swords. 

"Bring it; and I will let her confess now. "

Bending over the sinking girl, the priest bade her reveal the burdenresting on her conscience. 

"_Carita_, " he said tenderly, when the confession was ended, "fearnot. The blessed Saviour died for you. He went to prepare a place foryou and for us all. He forgave the sinful woman--_carita_, he forgivesyou--yes, freely, gladly. He loves you, little one. Fear not whatPadre Lorenzo said. He is a sinful priest. Forget all now but the goodSaviour, who stands with open arms--with a smile on his beautifulface--to welcome his dear child--his little girl--you, _carita_, you. "

"Padre--my babe?"

"Yes, child, it shall be cared for. "

"But not by the Sisters"--excitedly--"not in an asylum--Padre, promiseme!"

"There, _carita_, it shall be as you wish. "

"And you will care for it?"

"I, child?--ah, yes, I will care for it. "

The girl sank back again with a smile of happiness. A deep silencefell upon the room. At the feet of the priest Catalina huddled andwept softly. Marcelena, in the shadow of the bed where she might notbe seen, rocked silently back and forth with breaking heart. 

"Padre--you will--say Masses for me?" The words were scarcelyaudible. 

"Yes, _carita_. "

"I--have no money--no money. He promised to give me--money--andclothes--"

"There, _carita_, I will say Masses for you without money--every day, for a year. And you shall have clothes--ah, carita, in heaven youshall have everything. "

The candle sputtered, and went out. The moon flooded the room withethereal radiance. 

"Padre--lift me up--it grows dark--oh, Padre, you are so good tome--so good. "

"No, child, it is not I who am good to you, but the blessed Christ. See him, _carita_--there--there in the moonlight he stands!"

The smoke from a neighboring chimney drifted slowly past the windowand shone white in the silvery beams. The girl, supported by the armof the priest, gazed at it through dimming eyes in reverent awe. 

"Padre, " she whispered, "it is the Saviour! Pray to him for me. "

"Yes, child. " And turning toward the window the priest extended hishand. 

"Blessed Saviour, " he prayed, "this is one of thy stricken lambs, lured by the wolf from the fold. And we have brought her back. Dostthou bid her come?"

The sobs of the weeping woman at his feet floated through the room. 

"Ah, thou tender and pitying Master--best friend of the sinning, thesick, and the sorrowing--we offer to thee this bruised child. We findno sin, no guile, in her; for after the ignorant code of men she haspaid the last farthing for satisfying the wolf's greed. Dost thou bidher come?"

In the presence of death he felt his own terrible impotence. Of whatavail then was his Christianity? Or the Church's traditional words ofcomfort? The priest's tears fell fast. But something within--perhapsthat "something not ourselves"--the voice of Israel's almost forgottenGod--whispered a hope that blossomed in this petition of tenderestlove and pity. He had long since ceased to pray for himself; but inthis, the only prayer that had welled from his chilled heart inmonths, his pitying desire to humor the wishes of a dying girl hadunconsciously formulated his own soul's appeal. 

"Blessed Saviour, take her to thine arms; shield her forever morefrom the carnal lust of the wolf; lift her above the deadeningsuperstitions and hypocritical creeds of those who touch but tostain; take her, Saviour, for we find her pure, innocent, clean;suffering and sorrow have purged away the sin. Dost thou bid hercome?"

The scent of roses and orange blossoms from the garden below driftedinto the room on the warm breeze. A bird, awakened by the swaying ofits nest, peeped a few sweet notes of contentment, and slept again. 

"We would save her--we would cure her--but we, too, have strayed fromthee and forgotten thy commands--and the precious gift of healingwhich thou didst leave with men has long been lost. But thou arthere--thy compassionate touch still heals and saves. Jesus, unique sonof God, behold thy child. Wilt thou bid her come?"

"What says he, Padre?" murmured the sinking girl. 

The priest bent close to her. 

"He says come, _carita_--come!"

With a fluttering sigh the tired child sank back into the priest'sarms and dropped softly into her long sleep. 

CHAPTER 17

The twisted, turbid "Danube of New Granada, " under the gentle guidanceof its patron, Saint Mary Magdalene, threads the greater part of itssinuous way through the heart of Colombia like an immense, slow-movingmorass. Born of the arduous tropic sun and chill snows, and imbued bythe river god with the nomadic instinct, it leaps from its pinnacledcradle and rushes, sparkling with youthful vigor, down precipice andperpendicular cliff; down rocky steeps and jagged ridges; whirling inmerry, momentary dance in shaded basins; singing in swirling eddies;roaring in boisterous cataracts, to its mad plunge over the lofty wallof Tequendama, whence it subsides into the dignity of broad maturity, and begins its long, wandering, adult life, which slowly draws to asluggish old age and final oblivion in the infinite sea. Toward theclose of its meandering course, long after the follies and excesses ofearly life, it takes unto itself a consort, the beautiful Cauca; andtogether they flow, broadening and deepening as life nears its end;merging their destinies; sharing their burdens; until at last, withlabors ended, they sink their identities in the sunlit Caribbean. 

When the simple-minded _Conquistadores_ first pushed their frailcockleshells out into the gigantic embouchure of this tawny stream andlooked vainly for the opposite shore, veiled by the dewy mists of aglittering morn, they unconsciously crossed themselves and, forgetfulfor the moment of greed and rapine and the lust of gold, stood inreverent awe before the handiwork of their Creator. Ere the Spaniardhad laid his fell curse upon this ancient kingdom of the Chibchas, theflowering banks of the Magdalena, to-day so mournfully characterizedby their frightful solitudes, were an almost unbroken village from thepresent coast city of Barranquilla to Honda, the limit of navigation, some nine hundred miles to the south. The cupidity of the heartless, bigoted rabble from mediaeval slums which poured into this wonderlandlate in the sixteenth century laid waste this luxuriant vale andexterminated its trustful inhabitants. Now the warm airs that sigh atnight along the great river's uncultivated borders seem still to echothe gentle laments of the once happy dwellers in this primitiveparadise. 

Sitting in the rounded bow of the wretched riverine steamer Honda, Padre Josè de Rincón gazed with vacant eyes upon the scenery on eitherhand. The boat had arrived from Barranquilla that morning, and was nowexperiencing the usual exasperating delay in embarking from Calamar. He had just returned to it, after wandering for hours through theforlorn little town, tormented physically by the myriad mosquitoes, and mentally by a surprising eagerness to reach his destination. Hecould account for the latter only on the ground of completeresignation--a feeling experienced by those unfortunate souls who havelost their way in life, and, after vain resistance to moldingcircumstances, after the thwarting of ambitions, the quenching ofideals, admit defeat, and await, with something of feverishanticipation, the end. He had left Cartagena early that morning on theramshackle little train which, after hours of jolting over anundulating roadbed, set him down in Calamar, exhausted with the heatand dust-begrimed. He had not seen the Bishop nor Wenceslas since theinterview of the preceding day. Before his departure, however, he hadmade provision for the burial of the girl, Maria, and the disposal ofher child. This he did at his own expense; and when the demands ofdoctor and sexton had been met, and he had provided Marcelena withfunds for the care of herself and the child for at least a few weeks, his purse was pitiably light. 

Late in the afternoon the straggling remnant of a sea breeze driftedup the river and tempered the scorching heat. Then the captain of theHonda drained his last glass of red rum in the _posada_, reiterated tohis political affiliates with spiritous bombast his condensed opinionanent the Government, and dramatically signaled the pilot to get underway. 

Beyond the fact that Simití lay somewhere behind the liana-veiledbanks of the great river, perhaps three hundred miles from Cartagena, the priest knew nothing of his destination. There were no passengersbound for the place, the captain had told him; nor had the captainhimself ever been there, although he knew that one must leave the boatat a point called Badillo, and thence go by canoe to the town inquestion. 

But Josè's interest in Simití was only such as one might manifest in aprison to which he was being conveyed. And, as a prisoner of theChurch, he inwardly prayed that his remaining days might be few. Theblows which had fallen, one after another, upon his keen, raw nerveshad left him benumbed. The cruel bruises which his faith in man hadreceived in Rome and Cartagena had left him listless, and withoutpain. He was accepting the Bishop's final judgment mutely, for he hadalready borne all that human nature could endure. His severance from alife of faith and love was complete. 

Nor could Josè learn when he might hope to reach Badillo, though hemade listless inquiry. 

"_Na, Señor Padre_, " the captain had said, "we never know where tofind the water. It is on the right to-day; on the left to-morrow. There is low tide to-night; the morning may see it ten feet higher. And Badillo--_quien sabe_? It might be washed away when we arrive. "And he shrugged his shoulders in complete disclaimer of anyresponsibility therefor. 

The captain's words were not idle, for the channel of the mighty riverchanges with the caprice of a maiden's heart. With irresistiblemomentum the tawny flood rolls over the continent, now impatientlyploughing its way across a great bend, destroying plantations andabruptly leaving towns and villages many miles inland; now savagelyfilching away the soft loam banks beneath little settlements andgreedily adding broad acres to the burden of its surcharged waters. Mighty giants of the forest, wrested from their footholds ofcenturies, plunge with terrifying noise into the relentless stream;great masses of earth, still cohering, break from their moorings andglide into the whirling waters, where, like immense islands, theyjourney bobbing and tumbling toward the distant sea. 

Against the strong current, whose quartzose sediment tinkledmetallically about her iron prow, the clumsy Honda made slow headway. She was a craft of some two hundred tons burden, with iron hull, stern paddle wheel, and corrugated metal passenger deck and roof. Below the passenger deck, and well forward on the hull, stood thehuge, wood-burning boiler, whose incandescent stack pierced the openspace where the gasping travelers were forced to congregate to getwhat air they might. Midway on this deck she carried a few cabins ateither side. These, bare of furnishings, might accommodate a dozenpassengers, if the insufferable heat would permit them to beoccupied. Each traveler was obliged to supply his own bedding, andlikewise hammock, unless not too discriminating to use the soiledcot provided. Many of those whose affairs necessitated rivertravel--and there was no other mode of reaching the interior--werecontent at night to wrap a light blanket about them and lie downunder their mosquito nets on the straw mats--_petates_--with whichevery _peon_ goes provided. Of service, there was none that might beso designated. A few dirty, half-dressed negro boys from the streetsof Barranquilla performed the functions of steward, waiting on tablewith unwashed hands, helping to sling hammocks, or assisting with thecarving of the freshly killed beef on the slippery deck below. Accustomed as he had been to the comforts of Rome, and to the lesselaborate though still adequate accommodations which Cartagenaafforded, Josè viewed his prison boat with sinking heart. Iron hull, and above it the glowing boiler; over this the metal passenger deck;and above that the iron roof, upon which the fierce tropical sunpoured its flaming heat all day; clouds of steam and vapor fromthe hot river enveloping the boat--had the Holy Inquisition itselfsought to devise the most refined torture for a man of delicatesensibilities like Josè de Rincón, it could not have done better thansend him up the great river at this season and on that miserablecraft, in company with his own morbid and soul-corroding thoughts. 

The day wore on; and late in the evening the Honda docked at thepretentious town of Maganguey, the point of transfer for the riverCauca. Like the other passengers, from whom he had held himselfreservedly aloof, Josè gladly seized the opportunity to divert histhoughts for a few moments by going ashore. But the moments stretchedinto hours; and when he finally learned that the boat would not leaveuntil daybreak, he lapsed into a state of sullen desperation which, but for the Rincón stubbornness, would have precipitated him into thedark stream. Aimlessly he wandered about the town, avoiding anypossible _rencontre_ with priests, or with his fellow-passengers, manyof whom, together with the bacchanalian captain, he saw in the various_cantinas_, making merry over rum and the native _anisado_. 

The moon rose late, bathing the whitewashed town in a soft sheen andcovering with its yellow veil the filth and squalor which met thepriest at every turn as he wandered through its ill-lighted streets. Maganguey in plan did not depart from the time-honored custom of theSpaniards, who erected their cities by first locating the church, andthen building the town around it. So long as the church had a goodlocation, the rest of the town might shift for itself. Some of thebetter buildings dated from the old colonial period, and had tileroofs and red brick floors. Many bore scars received in theinternecine warfare which has raged in the unhappy country with butbrief intervals of peace since the days of Spanish occupation. Butmost of the houses were of the typical mud-plastered, palm-thatchedvariety, with dirt floors and scant furniture. Yet even in many ofthese Josè noted pianos and sewing machines, generally of German make, at which the housewife was occupied, while naked babes and squealingpigs--the latter of scarcely less value than the former--fought forplaces of preferment on the damp and grimy floors. 

Wandering, blindly absorbed in thought, into a deserted road whichbranched off from one of the narrow streets on the outskirts of thetown, Josè stumbled upon a figure crouching in the moonlight. Almostbefore he realized that it was a human being a hand had reached up andcaught his. 

"_Buen Padre!_" came a thick voice from the mass, "for the love of thegood Virgin, a few _pesos_!"

A beggar--perhaps a bandit! Ah, well; Josè's purse was light--and hislife of no value. So, recovering from his start, he sought in hispockets for some _billetes_. But--yes, he remembered that afterpurchasing his river transportation in Calamar he had carefully puthis few remaining bills in his trunk. 

"_Amigo_, I am sorry, but I have no money with me, " he saidregretfully. "But if you will come to the boat I will gladly give yousomething there. "

At this the figure emitted a scream of rage, and broke into a torrentof sulphurous oaths. "_Na_, the Saints curse you beggarly priests! Youhave no money, but you rob us poor devils with your lies, and thenleave us to rot to death!"

"But, _amigo_, did I not say--" began Josè soothingly. 

"_Maldito!_" shrilled the figure; "may Joseph and Mary and Jesus curseyou! A million curses on you, _maldito_!" Pulling itself upward, theshapeless thing sank its teeth deep into the priest's hand. 

With a cry of pain the startled Josè tore himself loose, his handdripping with blood. At the same time the figure fell over into theroad and its enveloping rags slipped off, disclosing in the brightmoonlight a loathsome, distorted face and elephantine limbs, coveredwith festering sores. 

"Good God!" cried Josè, recoiling. "A leper!"

Turning swiftly from the hideous object, his brain awhirl with thehorrible nightmare, the priest fled blindly from the scene. Nauseated, quivering with horror, with the obscene ravings of the leper stillringing in his ears, he stumbled about the town until daybreak, whenthe boat's shrieking whistle summoned him to embark. 

The second day on the river seemed to Josè intolerable, as he shiftedabout the creaking, straining tub to avoid the sun's piercing rays andthe heat which, drifting back from the hot stack forward, envelopedthe entire craft. There were but few passengers, some half dozen menand two slatternly attired women. Whither they were bound, he knewnot, nor cared; and, though they saluted him courteously, hestudiously avoided being drawn into their conversations. The emotionalappeal of the great river and its forest-lined banks did not at firstaffect him. Yet he sought forgetfulness of self by concentrating histhought upon them. 

The massed foliage constituted an impenetrable wall on either side. Everywhere his eyes met a maze of _lianas_, creeping plants, begonias, and bizarre vegetable forms, shapes and hues of which he had neverbefore had any adequate conception. Often he caught the glint ofgreat, rare butterflies hovering in the early sunlight which filteredthrough the interlaced fronds and branches. Often when the boat huggedthe bank he saw indescribable buds and blossoms, and multicoloredorchids clinging to the drooping _bejucos_ which festooned theenormous trees. As the afternoon waned and the sun hung low, the magicstillness of the solitude began to cast its spell about him, and hecould imagine that he was penetrating a fairy-land. The vast stream, winding, broadening, ramifying round wooded islets, throwing out long, dusky lagoons and swampy arms, incessantly plying its numberlessactivities, at length held him enraptured. As he brooded over it all, his thought wandered back to the exploits of the intrepid Quesada andhis stalwart band who, centuries before, had forced their perilous wayalong this same river, amid showers of poisoned arrows from hostilenatives, amid the assaults of tropical storms and malarial fevers, tothe plateau of Cundinamarca, the home of the primitive Muiscas; andthere gathering fresh strength and inspiration, had pushed on to thesite of Santa Fé de Bogotá. 

A cry suddenly rang through the boat. "Man overboard!"

The clang of the pilot's bell stopped the clumsy craft; but not beforethe ragged little negro boy who had served at Josè's table as stewardhad been swept far away by the rapid current. 

The utmost confusion immediately prevailed. Every one of the rabblerout of stokers, stewards, and stevedores lost his wits and set up afrenzied yell. Some who remembered that there was such a thing, toreat the ropes which held the single lifeboat. But the boat had been puton for appearance's sake, not for service, and successfully resistedall efforts at removal. No one dared risk his life in attemptedrescue, for the river swarmed with crocodiles. There was vain racing, counseling and gesticulating; but at length, the first wave ofexcitement over, passengers and crew settled down to watch the outcomeof the boy's struggle for life, while the pilot endeavored to turn theunwieldy steamer about. 

"Now is the time to put up a prayer for the youngster, Padre, " said avoice behind Josè. 

The priest turned. The speaker was evidently a native Colombian. Josèhad noticed him on the boat when he embarked at Calamar, and surmisedthat he had probably come up from Barranquilla. 

"An excellent opportunity to try the merits of a prayer to the Virgin, no? If she can fish us out of purgatory she ought to pull this boy outof the river, eh?" continued the speaker with a cynical smile. 

"I would rather trust to a canoe and a pair of stout arms than aprayer at present, " returned Josè with candor. 

"_Corriente!_" replied the man; "my way of thinking, exactly! But if Ihad a good rifle now I'd put that little fellow out of his misery, forhe's going down, sure!"

It was not unkindly said; and Josè appreciated the man's rudesentiment. Minutes passed in strained silence. 

"_Hombre!_" cried the man. "He's going!"

The lad was evidently weakening. The rapid, swirling currentcontinually frustrated his efforts to reach the shore. Again the headwent under. 

"_Dios!_" Josè exclaimed. "Is there no help?"

Jesus had walked the waves. Yet here his earthly representative, trained in all the learning and culture of Holy Church to be an _AlterChristus_, stood helplessly by and watched a child drown! God above!what avail religious creed and churchly dogma? How impotent thebeliefs of men in such an hour! Could the Holy Father himself, withall his assumptions, spiritual and temporal--with all his power toloose from sin and from the imaginary torments of purgatory--save thisdrowning boy?

Josè turned away in bitterness of heart. As he did so a murmur of awearose from the spectators. The priest looked again down the river. Impelled from below, the body of the boy was hurled out of the water. Then, as it fell, it disappeared. 

"_Cayman!_" gasped the horrified crew. 

Josè stood spellbound, as the ghastly truth dawned upon him. Acrocodile, gliding beneath the struggling lad, had tossed him upward, and caught him in its loathsome jaws when he fell. Then it had draggedhim beneath the yellow waters, where he was seen no more. 

Life is held cheaply by the Magdalena negro--excepting his own. Shiftless and improvident child of the tropics, his animal wantsare readily satisfied by the fruits and fish which nature providesfor him so bountifully. Spiritual wants he has none--until calamitytouches him and he thinks he is about to die. Then witchcraft, charm, incantation, the priest--anything that promises help is hurriedlypressed into requisition to prolong his useless existence. If herecovers, he forgets it all as hurriedly. The tragedy which hadjust been enacted before the Honda's crew produced a ripple ofexcitement--a momentary stirring of emotion--and was then speedilyforgotten, while the boat turned and drove its way up-stream againstthe muddy waters. 

But Josè could not forget. Nature had endowed him with a memory whichrecorded as minutely and as lastingly as the phonographic cylinder. The violent death of the boy haunted him, and mingled with therecurrent memories of the sad passing of the little Maria, and his ownbitter life experience. Oh, the mystery of it all! The tragedy oflife! The sudden blighting of hopes! The ruthless crushing of hearts!What did it mean? Did this infinite variety of good and evil which wecall life unite to manifest an infinite Creator? Nay, for then wereGod more wicked than the lowest sinner! Was evil as real as good, andmore powerful? Yes. Did love and the soul's desire to be and do goodcount for nothing in the end? No; for the end is death--always death!And after that--who knows?

"We are coming to Banco, Padre, " said the man who had addressed Josèbefore, rousing him from his doleful meditations and pointing to thelights of the distant town, now shimmering through the gatheringdusk. 

As the boat with shrilly shrieking whistle drew near the landing, acrowd hurriedly gathered on the bank to receive it. Venders of guavajelly, rude pottery, and straw mats hastily spread out theirmerchandise on the muddy ground and began to dilate loudly on theirmerits. A scantily clad man held aloft a rare leopard skin, which hevigorously offered for two _pesos_ gold. Slatternly women, peddlingqueer delectables of uncertain composition, waved their thin, barearms and shrilly advertised their wares. Black, naked children bobbedexcitedly about; and gaunt dogs and shrieking pigs scamperedrecklessly through the crowd and added to the general confusion. Hereand there Josè could see dignified looking men, dressed in whitecotton, and wearing straw--_jipijapa_--hats. These were merchants, patiently awaiting consignments which they had perhaps ordered monthsbefore. Crazy, ramshackle dwellings, perched unsteadily upon long, slender stilts, rose from the water's edge; but substantial brickbuildings of fair size, with red-tile roofs and whitewashed walls, mingled at intervals with the thatched mud huts and rude hovelsfarther within the town. In a distant doorway he descried a womannursing a babe at one breast and a suckling pig at the other. Convention is rigid in these Colombian river towns; but it is widelyinclusive. 

"Come ashore with me, Padre, and forget what is worrying you, " saidJosè's new acquaintance, taking him by the arm. "I have friendshere--_Hola!_ Padre Diego Guillermo!" he suddenly called, catchingsight of a black-frocked priest standing in the crowd on the shore. 

The priest addressed, a short, stout, coarse-featured man of perhapsforty, waved back a vigorous salutation. 

"_Hombre!_" the man ejaculated, holding Josè's arm and starting downthe gangplank. "What new deviltry is the rogue up to now!"

The man and the priest addressed as Diego embraced warmly. 

"Padre Diego Guillermo Polo, I have the extreme honor to present myfriend, the eminent Padre--" ceremoniously waving a hand toward Josè. 

"Josè de Rincón, " supplied the latter, bowing. 

"Rincón!" murmured the priest Diego. Then, abruptly, "Of Cartagena?"

"Yes, " returned Josè, with awakened interest. 

"Not of Don Ignacio--?"

"My grandfather, " Josè replied promptly, and with a touch of pride. 

"Ha! he owned much property--many _fincas_--about here; and fartherwest, in the Guamocó country, many mines, eh, Don Jorge?" exchanging asignificant look with the latter. 

"But, " he added, glancing at the perspiring Honda, "this old tub isgoing to hang up here for the night. So do me the honor, señores, tovisit my little cell, and we will fight the cursed mosquitoes over asip of red rum. I have some of very excellent quality. "

Josè and Don Jorge bowed their acquiescence and followed him up themuddy road. The cell referred to consisted of a suite of severalrooms, commodiously furnished, and looking out from the second storyof one of the better colonial houses of the town upon a richlyblooming interior _patio_. As the visitors entered, a comely youngwoman who had just lighted an oil-burning "student" lamp and placed itupon the center table, disappeared into one of the more remote rooms. 

"My niece, " said the priest Diego, winking at Don Jorge as he set outcigars and a _garrafón_ of Jamaica rum. "I have ordered a case ofAmerican beer, " he continued, lighting a cigar. "But that was twomonths ago, and it hasn't arrived yet. _Diablo!_ but the good _médico_tells me I drink too much rum for this very Christian climate. "

Don Jorge swept the place with an appraising glance. "H'm, " hecommented, as he poured himself a liberal libation from the_garrafón_. "The Lord surely provides for His faithful children. "

"Yes, the Lord, that's right, " laughed Padre Diego; "still I am dailyrendering no small thanks to His Grace, Don Wenceslas, future Bishopof Cartagena. "

"And eminent services into the bargain, I'll venture, " added DonJorge. 

Padre Diego's eyes twinkled merrily. Josè started. Then even in thisremote town the artful Wenceslas maintained his agent!

"But our friend is neither drinking nor smoking, " said Padre Diego, turning inquiringly to Josè, who had left his glass untouched. 

"With your permission, " replied the latter; "I do not use liquor ortobacco. "

"Nor women either, eh?" laughed Padre Diego. "_Por Dios!_ what is itthe Dutchman says?

 'Wer nicht liebt Wein, Weib und Gesang, Der bleibt ein Narr sein Lebenlang. '

"_Caramba!_ but my German has all slipped from me. "

"Don't worry, " commented Don Jorge cynically; "for I'll wager it tooknothing good with it. "

"_Hombre!_ but you are hard on a loyal servant of the Lord, " exclaimedPadre Diego in a tone of mock injury, as he drained another glass ofthe fiery liquor. 

"Servant of the Lord!" guffawed Don Jorge. "Of the Lord Pope, LordWenceslas, or the Lord God, may we ask?"

"_Qué chiste!_ Why, stupid, all three. I do not put all my eggs intoone basket, however large. But tell me, now, " he inquired, turning theconversation from himself, "what is it brings you into this regionforsaken of the gods?"

"_Sepulcros_, " Don Jorge briefly announced. 

"Ha! Indian graves again! But have you abandoned your quest of _LaTumba del Diablo_, in the Sinu valley?"

"Naturally, since the records show that it was opened centuries ago. And I spent a good year's search on it, too! _Dios!_ They say ityielded above thirty thousand _pesos_ gold. "

"_Diablo!_"

"But I am on the track of others. I go now to Medellin; then toRemedios; and there outfit for a trip of grave hunting through the oldGuamocó district. "

"Guamocó! Then you will naturally come down the Simití trail, whichbrings you out to the Magdalena. "

"Simití?" interrupted Josè eagerly, turning to the speaker. "Do youknow the place?"

"Somewhat!" replied Padre Diego, laughing. "I had charge of thatparish for a few months--"

"But found it highly convenient to leave, no?" finished the mercilessDon Jorge. 

"_Caramba!_ Would you have me die of _ennui_ in such a hell-hole?"cried Diego with some aspersion. 

"Hell-hole!" echoed Josè. "Is it so bad as that?"

"_Hombre!_ Yes--worse! They say that after the good Lord createdheaven and earth He had a few handfuls of dirt left, and these Hethrew away. But crafty Satan, always with an eye single to going theLord one better, slyly gathered this dirt together again and madeSimití. " Diego quickly finished another glass of rum, as if he woulddrown the memory of the town. 

Josè's heart slowly sank under the words. 

"But why do you ask? You are not going there?" Padre Diego inquired. Josè nodded an affirmative. 

"_Diablo!_ Assigned?"

"Yes, " in a voice scarcely audible. 

The Padre whistled softly. "Then in that case, " he said, brightening, "we are brother sinners. So let us exchange confidences. What was yourcrime, if one may ask?"

"Crime!" exclaimed Josè in amazement. 

"Aye; who was she? Rich? Beautiful? Native? Or foreign? Come, thestory. We have a long night before us. " And the coarse fellow settledback expectantly in his chair. 

Josè paled. "What do you mean?" he asked in a trembling voice. 

"_Caramba!_" returned the Padre impatiently. "You surely know that norespectable priest is ever sent to Simití! That it is the goodBishop's penal colony for fallen clergy--and, I may add, the refuge ofpolitical offenders of this and adjacent countries. Why, the presentschoolmaster there is a political outcast from Salvador!"

"No, I did not know it, " replied Josè. 

"_Por Dios!_ Then you are being jobbed, _amigo_! Did Don Wenceslasgive you letters to the Alcalde?"

"Yes. "

"And--by the way, has Wenceslas been misbehaving of late?--for when hedoes, somebody other than himself has to settle the score. "

Josè remained silent. 

"Ah, " mused Diego, "but Don Wenceslas is artful. And yet, I think Isee the direction of his trained hand in this. " Then he burst into arude laugh. "Come, _amigo_, " he said, noting Josè's dejected mien;"let us have your story. We may be able to advise. And we've hadexperience--eh, Don Jorge?"

But Josè slowly shook his head. What mattered it now? Simití wouldserve as well to bury him as any other tomb. He knew he was sent as alamb to the slaughter. But it was his affair--and his God's. Honor andconscience had presented the score; and he was paying in full. His wasnot a story to be bandied about by lewd priests like Padre Diego. 

"No, " he replied to the Padre's insistent solicitations; "with yourpermission, we will talk of it no more. "

"But--_Hombre_!" cried the Padre at last, in his coarse way stirred byJosè's evident truthfulness. "Well--as you wish--I will not pry intoyour secrets. But, take a bit of counsel from one who knows: when youreach Simití, inquire for a man who hates me, one Rosendo Ariza--"

At this juncture the Honda's diabolical whistle pierced the murkynight air. 

"_Caramba!_" cried Don Jorge, starting up. "Are they going to try theriver to-night?" And the men hurried back to the landing. 

The moon was up, and the boat was getting under way. Padre Diego wentaboard to take leave of his friends. 

"_Bien, amigo_, " he said to Don Jorge; "I am sorry your stay is soshort. I had much to tell you. Interesting developments are forward, and I hope you are well out of Guamocó when the trouble starts. Forthe rivals of Antioquia and Simití will pay off a few scores in thenext revolution--a few left over from the last; and it would be wellnot to get caught between them when they come together. "

"And so it is coming?" said Don Jorge thoughtfully. 

"Coming! _Hombre!_ It is all but here! The Hercules went up-riveryesterday. You will pass her. She has gone to keep a look-out in thevicinity of Puerto Berrio. I am sorry for our friend, " nodding towardJosè, who was leaning over the boat's rail at some distance; "butthere is a job there. He doesn't belong in this country. And Simitíwill finish him. "

"Bah! only another priest less--and a weak-kneed one at that, " saidDon Jorge with contempt; "and we have too many of them now, Lordknows!"

"You forget that I am a priest, " chuckled Diego. 

"You! Yes, so you are, " laughed Don Jorge; "but of the diocese ofhell! Well, we're off. I'll send a runner down the trail when I reachthe Tiguí river; and if you will have a letter in Simití informing meof the status of things political, he can bring it up. _Conque_, _adios_, my consummate villain. "

The Honda, whistling prodigiously, swung out into mid-stream and sether course up-river, warily feeling through the velvety darkness forthe uncertain channel. Once she grated over a hidden bar and hung fora few moments, while her stack vomited torrents of sparks and hergreat wheel angrily churned the water into creamy foam in the clearmoonlight. Once, rounding a sharp bend, she collided squarely with ahuge mahogany tree, rolling and plunging menacingly in the seawardrushing waters. 

"_Diablo!_" muttered Don Jorge, as he helped Josè swing his hammockand adjust the mosquito netting. "I shall offer a candle a foot thickto the blessed Virgin if I reach Puerto Berrio safely! _Santo Dios!_"as the boat grazed another sand bar. "I've heard tell of steamershanging up on bars in this river for six weeks! And look!" pointing tothe projecting smoke-stack of a sunken steamer. "_Caramba!_ That iswhat we just escaped!"

But Josè manifested slight interest in the dangers of rivernavigation. His thoughts were revolving about the incidents of thepast few days, and, more especially, about Padre Diego and hissignificant words. Don Jorge had volunteered no further explanation ofthe man or his conversation; and Josè's reticence would not permit himto make other inquiry. But, after all, his thought-processes alwaysevolved the same conclusion: What mattered it now? His interest inlife was at an end. He had not told Don Jorge of his experience withthe leper in Maganguey. He was trying to forget it. But his hand achedcruelly; and the pain was always associated with loathsome andrepellant thoughts of the event. 

 * * * * *

The eastern sky was blushing at the approach of the amorous sun whenJosè left his hammock and prepared to endure another day on the river. To the south the deep blue vault of heaven was dotted with downyclouds. Behind the laboring steamer the river glittered through adazzling white haze. Ahead, its course was traceable for miles by thethin vapor always rising from it. The jungle on either side wasbrilliant with color and resonant with the songs of forest lyrists. Inthe lofty fronds of venerable palms and cedars noisy macaws gossipedand squabbled, and excited monkeys discussed the passing boat andcommented volubly on its character. In the shallow water at the marginof the river blue herons and spindle-legged cranes were searching outtheir morning meal. Crocodiles lay dozing on the _playas_, with mouthsopened invitingly to the stupid birds which were sure to yield to themesmerism. Far in the distance up-stream a young deer was drinking atthe water's edge. 

The charm of the rare scene held the priest spellbound. As he gazedupon it a king vulture--called by the natives the Vulture Papa, orPope Vulture--suddenly swooped down from the depths of heaven and, lighting upon the carcass of a monster crocodile floating down theriver, began to feast upon the choicest morsels, while the buzzardswhich had been circling about the carrion and feeding at willrespectfully withdrew until the royal appetite should be satiated. 

"Holy graft, eh, Padre?" commented Don Jorge, coming up. "Thosebrainless buzzards, if they only knew it and had sense enough tounite, could strip every feather off that swaggering vulture and sendhim packing. Fools! And we poor Colombians, if we had the courage, could as easily throw the Church into the sea, holy candles, holyoils, holy incense and all! _Diablo!_ But we are fleeced like sheep!"

To Josè it did not seem strange that this man should speak so franklyto him, a priest. He felt that Don Jorge was not so much lacking incourtesy and delicate respect for the feelings and opinions of othersas he was ruggedly honest and fearlessly sincere in his hatred of thedissimulation and graft practiced upon the ignorant and unsuspecting. For the rest of the day Don Jorge was busy with his maps and papers, and Josè was left to himself. 

The character of the landscape had altered with the narrowing of thestream, and the river-plain now lay in a great volcanic basin flankedby distant verdure-clad hills. Far to the southwest Josè could see thefaint outlines of the lofty _Cordilleras_. Somewhere in that directionlay Simití. And back of it lay the ancient treasure house of Spain, where countless thousands of sweating slaves had worn out theirstraining bodies under the goad and lash, that the monarchs of Castilemight carry on their foolish religious wars and attempt their vainprojects of self-aggrandizement. 

The day wore on without interest, and darkness closed in quickly whenthe sun dropped behind the _Sierras_. It was to be Josè's last nighton the Magdalena, for the captain had told him that, barring disaster, the next afternoon should find them at Badillo. After the evening mealthe priest took his chair to the bow of the steamer and gave himselfover to the gentle influences of the rare and soothing environment. The churning of the boat was softly echoed by the sleeping forest. Thelate moon shimmered through clouds of murky vapor, and cast ghostlyreflections along the broad river. The balmy air, trembling with theradiating heat, was impregnated with sweetest odors from the myriadbuds and balsamic plants of the dark jungle wilderness on either hand, where impervious walls rose in majestic, deterrant, awesome silencefrom the low shore line, and tangled shrubs and bushes, rioting inwild profusion, jealously hung to the water's edge that they mighthide every trace of the muddy banks. What shapes and forms the blackdepths of that untrodden bush hid from his eyes, Josè might onlyimagine. But he felt their presence--crawling, creeping things thatlay in patient ambush for their unwitting prey--slimy lizards, gorgeously caparisoned--dank, twisting serpents--elephantinetapirs--dull-witted sloths--sleek, wary jaguars--fierce formicidae, poisonous and carnivorous. He might not see them, but he felt that hewas the cynosure of hundreds of keen eyes that followed him as theboat glided close to the shore and silently crept through the shadowswhich lay thick upon the river's edge. And the matted jungle, with itscolossal vegetation, he felt was peopled with other things--influencesintangible, and perhaps still unreal, but mightily potent with thesymbolized presence of the great Unknown, which stands back of allphenomena and eagerly watches the movements of its children. Theseinfluences had already cast their spell upon him. He was yielding, slowly, to the "lure of the tropics, " which few who come under itsattachment ever find the strength to dispel. 

No habitations were visible on the dark shores. Only here and there inthe yellow glow of the boat's lanterns appeared the customary pilesof wood which the natives sell to the passing steamers for boilerfuel, and which are found at frequent intervals along the river. Atone of these the Honda halted to replenish its supply. The usualbickering between the negro owner and the boat captain resulted in abargain, and the half-naked stevedores began to transfer the wood tothe vessel, carrying it on their shoulders in the most primitivemanner, held in a strip of burlap. The rising moon had at last thrownoff its veil of murky clouds, and was shining in undimmed splendor ina starry sky. Josè went ashore with the passengers; for the boat mightremain there for hours while her crew labored leisurely, with muchbantering and singing, and no anxious thought for the morrow. 

The strumming of a _tiple_ in the distance attracted him. Followingit, he found a small settlement of bamboo huts hidden away in abeautiful grove of moriche palms, through which the moonbeams filteredin silvery stringers. Little gardens lay back of the dwellings, andthe usual number of goats and pigs were dozing in the heavy shadows ofthe scarcely stirring trees. Reserved matrons and shy _doncellas_appeared in the doorways; and curious children, naked and chubby, hidin their mothers' scant skirts and peeped cautiously out at thenewcomers. The tranquil night was sweet with delicate odors waftedfrom numberless plants and blossoms in the adjacent forest, and withthe fragrance breathed from the roses, gardenias and dahlias withwhich these unpretentious dwellings were fairly embowered. A spirit ofcalm and peaceful contentment hovered over the spot, and the round, white moon smiled down in holy benediction upon the gentle folk whopassed their simple lives in this bower of delight, free from the goadof human ambition, untrammeled by the false sense of wealth and itsentailments, and unspoiled by the artificialities of civilization. 

One of the passengers suggested a dance, while waiting for the boat totake on its fuel. The owner of the wood, apparently the chiefauthority of the little settlement, immediately procured a _tom-tom_, and gave orders for the _baile_. At his direction men, women andchildren gathered in the moonlit clearing on the river bank and, whilethe musician beat a monotonous tattoo on the crude drum, circled aboutin the stately and dignified movements of their native dance. 

It was a picture that Josè would not forget. The balmy air, soft asvelvet, and laden with delicious fragrance; the vast solitude, stretching in trackless wilderness to unknown reaches on either hand;the magic stillness of the tropic night; the figures of the dancersweirdly silhouetted in the gorgeous moonlight; with the low, unvariedbeat of the _tom-tom_ rising dully through the warm air--all mergedinto a scene of exquisite beauty and delight, which made an indelibleimpression upon the priest's receptive mind. 

And when the sounds of simple happiness had again died into silence, and he lay in his hammock, listening to the spirit of the junglesighing through the night-blown palms, as the boat glided gentlythrough the lights and shadows of the quiet river, his soul voiced anameless yearning, a vague, unformed longing for an approach to thelife of simple content and child-like happiness of the kind and gentlefolk with whom he had been privileged to make this brief sojourn. 

 * * * * *

The crimson flush of the dawn-sky heralded another day of implacableheat. The emerald coronals of palms and towering _caobas_ burned inthe early beams of the torrid sun. Light fogs rose reluctantly fromthe river's bosom and dispersed in delicate vapors of opal and violet. The tangled banks of dripping bush shone freshly green in the mistylight. The wilderness, grim and trenchant, reigned in unchallengeddespotism. Solitude, soul-oppressing, unbroken but for the calls offeathered life, brooded over the birth of Josè's last day on theMagdalena. About midday the steamer touched at the little village ofBodega Central; but the iron-covered warehouse and the whitewashed mudhovels glittered garishly in the fierce heat and stifled all desire togo ashore. The call was brief, and the boat soon resumed its coursethrough the solitude and heat of the mighty river. 

Immediately after leaving Bodega Central, Don Jorge approached Josèand beckoned him to an unoccupied corner of the boat. 

"_Amigo_, " he began, after assuring himself that his words would notcarry to the other passengers, "the captain tells me the next stop isBadillo, where you leave us. If all goes well you will be in Simitíto-night. No doubt a report of our meeting with Padre Diego hasalready reached Don Wenceslas, who, you may be sure, has no thought offorgetting you. I have no reason to tell you this other than the factthat I think, as Padre Diego put it, you are being jobbed--not by theChurch, but by Wenceslas. I want to warn you, that is all. I hatepriests! They got me early--got my wife and girl, too! I hate theChurch, and the whole ghastly farce which it puts over on the ignorantpeople of this country! But--, " eying him sharply, "I would hardlyclass you as a _real_ priest. There, never mind!" as Josè was about tointerrupt. "I think I understand. You simply went wrong. You meantwell, but something happened--as always does when one means well inthis world. But now to the point. "

Shifting his chair closer to Josè, the man resumed earnestly. 

"Your grandfather, Don Ignacio, was a very rich man. The war strippedhim. He got just what he deserved. His _fincas_ and herds and minesmelted away from him like grease from a holy candle. And nobodycared--any more than the Lord cares about candle grease. Most of hisproperty fell into the hands of his former slaves--and he had hundredsof them hereabouts. But his most valuable possession, the great mineof La Libertad, disappeared as completely as if blotted from the faceof the earth. 

"That mine--no, not a mine, but a mountain of free gold--was locatedsomewhere in the Guamocó district. After the war this whole countryslipped back into the jungle, and had to be rediscovered. The Guamocóregion is to-day as unknown as it was before the Spaniards came. Somewhere in the district, but covered deep beneath brush and forestgrowth, is that mine, the richest in Colombia. 

"Now, as you know, Don Ignacio left this country in considerable of ahurry. But I think he always intended to come back again. Death killedthat ambition. I don't know about his sons. But the fact remains thatLa Libertad has never been rediscovered since Don Ignacio's day. Theold records in Cartagena show the existence of such a mine in Spanishtimes, and give a more or less accurate statement of its production. _Diablo_! I hesitate to say how much! The old fellow had _arrastras_, mills, and so on, in which slaves crushed the ore. The bullion wasmelted into bars and brought down the trail to Simití, where he hadagents and warehouses and a store or two. From there it was shippeddown the river to Cartagena. But the war lasted thirteen years. Andduring that time everything was in a state of terrible confusion. Theexistence of mines was forgotten. The plantations were left unworked. The male population was all but killed off. And the country sank backinto wilderness. 

"_Bueno_; so much for history. Now to your friends on the coast--andelsewhere. Don Wenceslas is quietly searching for that mine--has beenfor years. He put his agent, Padre Diego, in Simití to learn what hemight there. But the fool priest was run out after he had ruined awoman or two. However, Padre Diego is still in close touch with thetown, and is on the keen search for La Libertad. Wenceslas thinksthere may be descendants of some of Don Ignacio's old slaves stillliving in Simití, or near there, and that they know the location ofthe lost mine. And, if I mistake not, he figures that you will learnthe secret from them in some way, and that the mine will again come tolight. Now, if you get wind of that mine and attempt to locate it, orpurchase it from the natives, you will be beaten out of it in a hurry. And you may be sure Don Wenceslas will be the one who will eventuallyhave it, for there is no craftier, smoother, brighter rascal inColombia than he. And so, take it from me, if you ever get wind of thelocation of that famous property--which by rights is yours, havingbelonged to your grandfather--_keep the information strictly toyourself_!

"I do not know Simití. But I shall be working in the Guamocó districtfor many months to come, hunting Indian graves. I shall have myrunners up and down the Simití trail frequently, and may get in touchwith you. It may be that you will need a friend. There! The boat iswhistling for Badillo. A last word: Keep out of the way of bothWenceslas and Diego--cultivate the people of Simití--and keep yourmouth closed. "

A few minutes later Josè stood on the river bank beside his littlehaircloth trunk and traveling bag, sadly watching the steamer drawaway and resume her course up-stream. He watched it until itdisappeared around a bend. And then he stood watching the smoke riseabove the treetops, until that, too, faded in the distance. No one hadwaved him a farewell from the boat. No one met him with a greeting ofwelcome on the shore. He was a stranger among strangers. 

He turned, with a heavy heart, to note his environment. It was atypical riverine point. A single street, if it might be so called; ahalf dozen bamboo dwellings, palm-thatched; and a score of natives, with their innumerable gaunt dogs and porcine companions--this wasBadillo. 

"_Señor Padre. _" A tall, finely built native, clad in soiled whitecotton shirt and trousers, approached and addressed him in a kindlytone. "Where do you go?"

"To Simití, " replied the priest, turning eagerly to the man. "But, " inbewilderment, "where is it?"

"Over there, " answered the native, pointing to the jungle on the farside of the river. "Many leagues. "

The wearied priest sat down on his trunk and buried his face in hishands. Faintness and nausea seized him. It was the after-effect of hislong and difficult river experience. Or, perhaps, the deadly malariawas beginning its insidious poisoning. The man approached and laid ahand on his shoulder. 

"Padre, why do you go to Simití?"

Josè raised his head and looked more closely at his interlocutor. Thenative was a man of perhaps sixty years. His figure was that of anathlete. He stood well over six feet high, with massive shoulders, anda waist as slender as a woman's. His face was almost black in color, and mottled with patches of white, so common to the natives of the hotinlands. But there was that in its expression, a something thatlooked out through those kindly black eyes, that assured Josè andbespoke his confidence. 

The man gravely repeated his question. 

"I have been sent there by the Bishop of Cartagena. I am to havecharge of the parish, " Josè replied. 

The man slowly shook his finely shaped head. 

"We want no priest in Simití, " he said with quiet firmness. His mannerof speaking was abrupt, yet not ungracious. 

"But--do you live there?" inquired Josè anxiously. 

"Yes, Padre. "

"Then you must know a man--Rosendo, I think his name--"

"I am Rosendo Ariza. "

Josè looked eagerly at the man. Then he wearily stretched out a hand. 

"Rosendo--I am sick--I think. And--I have--no friends--"

Rosendo quickly grasped his hand and slipped an arm about hisshoulders. 

"I am your friend, Padre--" He stopped and appeared to reflect for amoment. Then he added quickly, "My canoe is ready; and we must hurry, or night will overtake us. "

The priest essayed to rise, but stumbled. Then, as if he had been achild, the man Rosendo picked him up and carried him down the bank toa rude canoe, where he deposited him on a pile of empty bags in thekeel. 

"Escolastico!" he called back to a young man who seemed to be thechief character of the village. "Sell the _panela_ and yuccas _á buenprecio_; and remind Captain Julio not to forget on the next trip tobring the little Carmen a doll from Barranquilla. I will be over againnext month. And Juan, " addressing the sturdy youth who was preparingto accompany him, "set in the Padre's baggage; and do you take thepaddle, and I will pole. _Conque, adioscito!_" waving his batteredstraw hat to the natives congregated on the bank, while Juan pushedthe canoe from the shore and paddled vigorously out into the river. 

"_Adioscito! adioscito! Don Rosendo y Juan!_" The hearty farewells ofthe natives followed the canoe far out into the broad stream. 

Across the open river in the livid heat of the early afternoon thecanoe slowly made its way. The sun from a cloudless sky viciouslypoured down its glowing rays like molten metal. The boat burned; theriver steamed; the water was hot to his touch, when the priest feeblydipped his hands into it and bathed his throbbing brow. Badillo fadedfrom view as they rounded a densely wooded island and entered a longlagoon. Here they lost the slight breeze which they had had on themain stream. In this narrow channel, hemmed in between lofty forestwalls of closely woven vines and foliage, it seemed to Josè that theyhad entered a flaming inferno. The two boatmen sat silent andinscrutable, plying their paddles without speaking. 

Down the long lagoon the canoe drifted, keeping within what scantshade the banks afforded, for the sun stood now directly overhead. Theheat was everywhere, insistent, unpitying. It burned, scalded, warped. The foliage on either side of the channel merged into the hot wavesthat rose trembling about them. The thin, burning air enveloped thelittle craft with fire. Josè gasped for breath. His tongue swelled. His pulse throbbed violently. His skin cracked. The quiveringappearance of the atmosphere robbed him of confidence in his ownvision. A cloud of insects hung always before his sight. Dead silencelay upon the scene. Not a sound issued from the jungle. Not a bird oranimal betrayed its presence. The canoe was edging the Colombian"hells, " where even the denizens of the forest dare not venture forthon the low, open _savannas_ in the killing heat of midday. 

Josè sank down in the boat, wilting and semi-delirious. Through hisdimmed eyes the boatman looked like glowing inhuman things set inflames. Rosendo came to him and placed his straw hat over his face. Hours, interminable and torturing, seemed to pass on leaden wings. Then Juan, deftly swerving his paddle, shot the canoe into a narrowarm, and the garish sunlight was suddenly lost in the denselyintertwined branches overhanging the little stream. 

"The outlet of _La Cienaga_, Padre, " Rosendo offered, laying aside hispaddle and taking his long boat pole. "Lake Simití flows through thisand into the Magdalena. " For a few moments he held the canoe steady, while from his wallet he drew a few leaves of tobacco and deftlyrolled a long, thick cigar. 

The real work of the _boga_ now began, and Rosendo with his longpunter settled down to the several hours' strenuous grind which wasnecessary to force the heavy canoe up the little outlet and into thedistant lake beyond. Back and forth he traveled through thehalf-length of the boat, setting the pole well forward in the softbank, or out into the stream itself, and then, with its end againsthis shoulder, urging and teasing the craft a few feet at a timeagainst the strong current. Josè imagined, as he dully watched him, that he could see death in the pestiferous effluvia which emanatedfrom the black, slimy mud which every plunge of the long pole broughtto the surface of the narrow stream. 

The afternoon slowly waned, and the temperature lowered a few degrees. A warm, animal-like breath drifted languidly out from the moistjungle. The outlet, or _caño_, was heavily shaded throughout itslength. Crocodiles lay along its muddy banks, and slid into the waterat the approach of the canoe. Huge _iguanas_, the gorgeously coloredlizards of tropical America, scurried noisily through the overarchingbranches. Here and there monkeys peeped curiously at the intruders andchattered excitedly as they swung among the lofty treetops. But forhis exhaustion, Josè, as he lay propped up against his trunk, gazingvacantly upon the slowly unrolling panorama of marvelous plant andanimal life on either hand, might have imagined himself in a realm ofenchantment. 

At length the vegetation abruptly ceased; the stream widened; and thecanoe entered a broad lake, at the far end of which, three milesdistant, its two whitewashed churches and its plastered housesreflecting the red glow of the setting sun, lay the ancient anddecayed town of Simití, the northern outlet of Spain's mediaevaltreasure house, at the edge of the forgotten district of Guamocó. 

Paddling gently across the unruffled surface of the tepid waters, Rosendo and Juan silently urged the canoe through the fast gatheringdusk, and at length drew up on the shaly beach of the old town. Asthey did so, a little girl, bare of feet and with clustering browncurls, came running out of the darkness. 

"Oh, padre Rosendo, " she called, "what have you brought me?"

Then, as she saw Rosendo and Juan assisting the priest from the boat, she drew back abashed. 

"Look, Carmencita, " whispered Juan to the little maid; "we've broughtyou a _big_ doll, haven't we?"

Night fell as the priest stepped upon the shore of his new home. 

CARMEN ARIZA

BOOK 2

 Ay, to save and redeem and restore, snatch Saul, the mistake, Saul, the failure, the ruin he seems now, --and bid him awake from the dream, the probation, the prelude, to find himself set clear and safe in new light and new life, --a new harmony yet to be run and continued and ended. 

 --_Browning. _

CARMEN ARIZA

CHAPTER 1

Josè de Rincón opened his eyes and turned painfully on his hard bed. The early sun streamed through the wooden grating before the unglazedwindow. A slight, tepid breeze stirred the mosquito netting over him. He was in the single sleeping room of the house. It contained anotherbed like his own, of rough _macana_ palm strips, over which lay astraw mat and a thin red blanket. Bed springs were unknown in Simití. On the rude door, cobwebbed and dusty, a scorpion clung torpidly. Fromthe room beyond he heard subdued voices. His head and limbs acheddully; and frightful memories of the river trip and the awful journeyfrom Badillo sickened him. With painful exertion he stood upon themoist dirt floor and drew on his damp clothes. He had only a vaguerecollection of the preceding night, but he knew that Rosendo had halfled, half dragged him past rows of dimly lighted, ghostly white housesto his own abode, and there had put him to bed. 

"_Muy buenos dias, Señor Padre_, " Rosendo greeted him, as the priestdragged himself out into the living room. "You have slept long. Butthe señora will soon have your breakfast. Sit here--not in the sun!"

Rosendo placed one of the rough wooden chairs, with straight cowhideback and seat, near the table. 

"Carmencita has gone to the boat for fresh water. But--here she comes. Pour the _Señor Padre_ a cup, _carita_, " addressing a little girl whoat that moment entered the doorway, carrying a large earthen bottle onher shoulder. It was the child who had met the boat when the priestarrived the night, before. 

"Fill the basin, too, _chiquita_, that the Padre may wash his hands, "added Rosendo. 

The child approached Josè, and with a dignified little courtesy and afrank smile offered him a cup of the lukewarm water. The priestaccepted it languidly. But, glancing into her face, his eyes suddenlywidened, and the hand that was carrying the tin cup to his lipsstopped. 

The barefoot girl, clad only in a short, sleeveless calico gown, stoodbefore him like a portrait from an old master. Her skin was almostwhite, with but a tinge of olive. Her dark brown hair hung in curls toher shoulders and framed a face of rarest beauty. Innocence, purity, and love radiated from her fair features, from her beautifully roundedlimbs, from her soft, dark eyes that looked so fearlessly into hisown. 

Josè felt himself strangely moved. Somewhere deep within his soul achord had been suddenly struck by the little presence; and the soundwas unfamiliar to him. Yet it awakened memories of distant scenes, ofold dreams, and forgotten longings. It seemed to echo from realms ofhis soul that had never been penetrated. The tumult within died away. The raging thought sank into calm. The man forgot himself, forgot thathe had come to Simití to die. His sorrow vanished. His sufferingsfaded. He remained conscious only of something that he could notoutline, something in the soul of the child, a thing that perhaps heonce possessed, and that he knew he yet prized above all else onearth. 

He heard Rosendo's voice through an immeasurable distance--

"Leave us now, _chiquita_; the Padre wishes to have his breakfast. "

The child without speaking turned obediently; and the priest's eyesfollowed her until she disappeared into the kitchen. 

"We call her 'the smile of God, '" said Rosendo, noting the priest'sabsorption, "because she is always happy. "

Josè remained sunk in thought. Then--

"A beautiful child!" he murmured. "A wonderfully beautiful child! Ihad no idea--!"

"Yes, Padre, she is heaven's gift to us poor folk. I sometimes thinkthe angels themselves left her on the river bank. "

"On the river bank!" Josè was awake now. "Why--she was not bornhere?"

"Oh, no, Padre, but in Badillo. "

"Ah, then you once lived in Badillo?"

"_Na, Señor Padre_, she is not my child--except that the good God hasgiven her to me to protect. "

"Not your child! Then whose is she?" The priest's voice was unwontedlyeager and his manner animated. 

But Rosendo fell suddenly quiet and embarrassed, as if he realizedthat already he had said too much to a stranger. A shade of suspicionseemed to cross his face, and he rose hurriedly and went out into thekitchen. A moment later he returned with the priest's breakfast--twofried eggs, a hot corn _arepa_, fried _platanos_, dried fish, andcoffee sweetened with _panela_. 

"When you have finished, Padre, we will visit the Alcalde, " he saidquietly. "I must go down to the lake now to speak with Juan before hegoes out to fish. "

Josè finished his meal alone. The interest which had been aroused bythe child continued to increase without reaction. His torpid soul hadbeen profoundly stirred. For the moment, though he knew not why, lifeseemed to hold a vague, unshaped interest for him. He began to noticehis environment; he even thought he relished the coarse food setbefore him. 

The house he was in was a typical native three-room dwelling, built ofstrips of _macana_ palm, set upright and tied together with pieces ofslender, tough _bejuco_ vine. The interstices between the strips werefilled with mud, and the whole whitewashed. The floors were dirt, trodden hard; the steep-pitched roof was thatched with palm. A fewchairs like the one he occupied, the rude, uncovered table, some cheapprints and a battered crucifix on the wall, were the only furnishingsof the living room. 

While he was eating, the people of the town congregated quietlyabout the open door. Friendly curiosity to see the new Padre, andsincere desire to welcome him animated their simple minds. Nakedbabes crawled to the threshold and peeped timidly in. Coarselyclad women and young girls, many of the latter bedizened with bitsof bright ribbon or cheap trinkets, smiled their gentle greetings. Black, dignified men, bare of feet, and wearing white cotton trousersand black _ruanas_--the cape affected by the poor males of theinlands--respectfully doffed their straw hats and bowed to him. Rosendo's wife appeared from the kitchen and extended her hand tohim in unfeigned hospitality. Attired in a fresh calico gown, herblack hair plastered back over her head and tied with a clean blackribbon, her bare feet encased in hemp sandals, she bore herselfwith that grace and matronly dignity so indicative of her Spanishforbears, and so particularly characteristic of the inhabitants ofthis "valley of the pleasant 'yes. '"

Breakfast finished, the priest stepped to the doorway and raised hishand in the invocation that was evidently expected from him. 

"_Dominus vobiscum_, " he repeated, not mechanically, not insincerely, but in a spirit of benevolence, of genuine well-wishing, which hiscontact with the child a few minutes before seemed to have aroused. 

The people bent their heads piously and murmured, "_Et cum spiritutuo. _"

The open door looked out upon the central _plaza_, where stood a largechurch of typical colonial design and construction, and with a singlelateral bell tower. The building was set well up on a platform ofshale, with broad shale steps, much broken and worn, leading up to iton all sides. Josè stepped out and mingled with the crowd, firstregarding the old church curiously, and then looking vainly for thelittle girl, and sighing his disappointment when he did not see her. 

In the _plaza_ he was joined by Rosendo; and together they went tothe house of the Alcalde. On the way the priest gazed about him withgrowing curiosity. To the north of the town stretched the lake, knownto the residents only by the name of _La Cienaga_. It was a body ofwater of fair size, in a setting of exquisite tropical beauty. Ina temperate climate, and a region more densely populated, thislake would have been priceless. Here in forgotten Guamocó it lay likean undiscovered gem, known only to those few inert and passive folk, who enjoyed it with an inadequate sense of its rare beauty andimmeasurable worth. Several small and densely wooded isles rosefrom its unrippled bosom; and tropical birds of brilliant colorhovered over it in the morning sun. Near one of its margins Josèdistinguished countless white _garzas_, the graceful herons whoseplumes yield the coveted aigrette of northern climes. They fedundisturbed, for this region sleeps unmolested, far from the beatenpaths of tourist or vandal huntsman. To the west and south lay thehills of Guamocó, and the lofty _Cordilleras_, purpling in thelight mist. Over the entire scene spread a damp warmth, like theatmosphere of a hot-house. By midday Josè knew that the heat wouldbe insufferable. 

The Alcalde, Don Mario Arvila, conducted his visitors through hisshabby little store and into the _patio_ in the rear, exclaimingrepeatedly, "Ah, _Señor Padre_, we welcome you! All Simití welcomesyou and kisses your hand!" In the shade of his arbor he sat down toexamine Josè's letters from Cartagena. 

Don Mario was a large, florid man, huge of girth, with brown skin, heavy jowls, puffed eyes, and bald head. As he read, his eyes snapped, and at times he paused and looked up curiously at the priest. Then, without comment, he folded the letters and put them into a pocket ofhis crash coat. 

"_Bien_, " he said politely, "we must have the Padre meet Don FelipeAlcozer as soon as he returns. Some repairs are needed on thechurch; a few of the roof tiles have slipped, and the rain enters. Perhaps, _Señor Padre_, you may say the Mass there next Sunday. Wewill see. A--a--you had illustrious ancestors, Padre, " he added withhesitation. 

"Do the letters mention my ancestry?" asked Josè with something ofmingled surprise and pride. 

"They speak of your family, which was, as we all know, quiterenowned, " replied the Alcalde courteously. 

"Very, " agreed Josè, wondering how much the Alcalde knew of hisfamily. 

"Don Ignacio was not unknown in this _pueblo_, " affably continued theAlcalde. 

At these words Rosendo started visibly and looked fixedly at thepriest. 

"The family name of Rincón, " the Alcalde went on, "appears on the oldrecords of Simití in many places, and it is said that Don Ignaciohimself came here more than once. Perhaps you know, _Señor Padre_, that the Rincón family erected the church which stands in the _plaza_?And so it is quite appropriate that their son should officiate in itafter all these centuries, is it not?"

No, Josè had not known it. He could not have imagined such a thing. Heknew little of his family's history. Of their former vast wealth hehad a vague notion. But here in this land of romance and tragedy heseemed to be running upon their reliques everywhere. 

The conversation drifted to parish matters; and soon Rosendo urgedtheir departure, as the sun was mounting high. 

Seated at the table for the midday lunch, Josè again became lost incontemplation of the child before him. Her fair face flushed under hissearching gaze; but she returned a smile of confidence and sweetinnocence that held him spellbound. Her great brown eyes were ofinfinite depth. They expressed a something that he had never seenbefore in human eyes. What manner of soul lay behind them? What was itthat through them looked out into this world of evil? Childishinnocence and purity, yes; but vastly more. Was it--God Himself? Josèstarted at his own thought. Through his meditations he heard Rosendo'svoice. 

"Simití is very old, Padre. In the days of the Spaniards it was alarge town, with many rich people. The Indians were all slaves then, and they worked in the mines up there, " indicating the distantmountains. "Much gold was brought down here and shipped down theMagdalena, for the _caño_ was wider in those days, and it was not sohard to reach the river. This is the end of the Guamocó trail, whichwas called in those days the _Camino Real_. "

"You say the mines were very rich?" interrogated Josè; not that thequestion expressed a more than casual interest, but rather to keepRosendo talking while he studied the child. 

But at this question Rosendo suddenly became less loquacious. Josèthen felt that he was suspected of prying into matters which Rosendodid not wish to discuss with him, and so he pressed the topic nofurther. 

"How many people did Don Mario say the parish contained?" he asked byway of diverting the conversation. 

"About two hundred, Padre. "

"And it has been vacant long?"

"Four years. "

"Four years since Padre Diego was here, " commented Josè casually. 

It was an unfortunate remark. At the mention of the former priest'sname Doña Maria hurriedly left the table. Rosendo's black face greweven darker, and took on a look of ineffable contempt. He did notreply. And the meal ended in silence. 

It was now plain to Josè that Rosendo distrusted him. But it matteredlittle to the priest, beyond the fact that he had no wish to offendany one. What interest had he in boorish Simití, or Guamocó? The placewas become his tomb--he had entered it to die. The child--the girl!Ah, yes, she had touched a strange chord within him; and for a time hehad seemed to live again. But as the day waned, and pitiless heat anddeadly silence brooded over the decayed town, his starving soul sankagain into its former depression, and revived hope and interest diedwithin him. 

The implacable heat burned through the noon hour; the dusty streetswere like the floor of a stone oven; the shale beds upon which the oldtown rested sent up fiery, quivering waves; the houses seethed; earthand sky were ablaze. How long could he endure it?

And the terrible _ennui_, the isolation, the utter lack of every traceof culture, of the varied interests that feed the educated, trainedmind and minister to its comfort and growth--could he support itpatiently while awaiting the end? Would he go mad before the finalrelease came? He did not fear death; but he was horror-stricken at thethought of madness! Of losing that rational sense of the Ego whichconstituted his normal individuality!

Rosendo advised him to retire for the midday _siesta_. Through theseemingly interminable afternoon he lay upon his hard bed with hisbrain afire, while the events of his warped life moved before him inspectral review. The week which had passed since he left Cartagenaseemed an age. When he might hope to receive word from the outsideworld, he could not imagine. His isolation was now complete. Evenshould letters succeed in reaching Simití for him, they must firstpass through the hands of the Alcalde. 

And what did the Alcalde know of him? And then, again, what did itmatter? He must not lose sight of the fact that his interest in theoutside world--nay, his interest in all things had ceased. This wasthe end. He had yielded, after years of struggle, to pride, fear, doubt. He had bowed before his morbid sense of honor--a pervertedsense, he now admitted, but still one which bound him in fetters ofsteel. His life had been one of grossest inconsistency. He was utterlyout of tune with the universe. His incessant clash with the world ofpeople and events had sounded nothing but agonizing discord. And hisconfusion of thought had become such that, were he asked why he was inSimití, he could scarcely have told. At length he dropped into afeverish sleep. 

The day drew to a close, and the flaming sun rested for a brief momenton the lofty tip of Tolima. Josè awoke, dripping with perspiration, his steaming blood rushing wildly through its throbbing channels. Blindly he rose from his rough bed and stumbled out of the stiflingchamber. The living room was deserted. Who might be in the kitchen, hedid not stop to see. Dazed by the garish light and fierce heat, herushed from the house and over the burning shales toward the lake. 

What he intended to do, he knew not. His weltering thought held but asingle concept--water! The lake would cool his burning skin--he wouldwade out into it until it rose to his cracking lips--he would lie downin it, till it quenched the fire in his head--he would sleep in it--hewould never leave it--it was cool--perhaps cold! What did the wordmean? Was there aught in the world but fire--flames--fierce, withering, smothering, consuming heat? He thought the shales crackledas they melted beneath him! He thought his feet sank to the ankles inmolten lava, and were so heavy he scarce could drag them! He thoughtthe blazing sun shot out great tongues of flame, like the arms of amonster devilfish, which twined about him, transforming his blood tovapor and sucking it out through his gaping pores!

A blinding light flashed before him as he reached the margin of thelake. The universe burst into a ball of fire. He clasped his head inhis hands--stumbled--and fell, face down, in the tepid waters. 

CHAPTER 2

"It was the little Carmen, Padre, who saw you run to the lake. She wassitting at the kitchen door, studying her writing lesson. "

The priest essayed to rise from his bed. Night had fallen, and thefeeble light of the candle cast heavy shadows over the room, and madegrotesque pictures of the black, anxious faces looking in at thegrated window. 

"But, Rosendo, it--was--a dream--a terrible dream!"

"_Na_, Padre, it was true, for I myself took you from the lake, "replied Rosendo tenderly. 

Josè struggled to a sitting posture, but would have fallen back againhad not Rosendo's strong arm supported him. He passed his hand slowlyacross his forehead, as if to brush the mental cobwebs from hisawakening brain. Then he inquired feebly:

"What does the doctor say?"

"Padre, there is no doctor in Simití, " Rosendo answered quietly. 

"No doctor!"

Josè kept silence for a few moments. Then--

"But perhaps I do not need one. What time did it occur?"

"It did not happen to-day, Padre, " said Rosendo with pityingcompassion. "It was nearly a week ago. "

"Nearly a week! And have I lain here so long?"

"Yes, Padre. "

The priest stared at him uncomprehendingly. Then--

"The dreams were frightful! I must have talked--raved! Rosendo--youheard me--?" His voice betrayed anxiety. 

"There, Padre, think no more about it. You were wild--I fought to keepyou in bed--we thought you must die--all but Carmen--but you have yoursenses now--and you must forget the past. "

Forget the past! Then his wild delirium had laid bare his soul! Andthe man who had so faithfully nursed him through the crisis nowpossessed the sordid details of this wretched life!

Josè struggled to orient his undirected mind. A hot wave of angerswept over him at the thought that he was still living, that hisbattered soul had not torn itself from earth during his delirium andtaken flight. Was he fated to live forever, to drag out an endlessexistence, with his heart written upon his sleeve for the world toread and turn to its own advantage? Rosendo had stood between him anddeath--but to what end? Had he not yet paid the score in full--goodmeasure, pressed down and running over? His thoughts ran rapidly fromone topic to another. Again they reverted to the little girl. He haddreamed of her in that week of black night. He wondered if he had alsotalked of her. He had lain at death's door--Rosendo had said so--buthe had had no physician. Perhaps these simple folk brewed their ownhomely remedies--he wondered what they had employed in his case. Abovethe welter of his thoughts this question pressed for answer. 

"What medicine did you give me, Rosendo?" he feebly queried. 

"None, Padre. "

Josè's voice rose querulously in a little excess of excitement. "What!You left me here without medical aid, to live or die, as might be?"

The gentle Rosendo laid a soothing hand upon the priest's feverishbrow. "_Na_, Padre, "--there was a hurt tone in the soft answer--"wedid all we could for you. We have neither doctors nor medicines. Butwe cared for you--and we prayed daily for your recovery. The littleCarmen said our prayers would be answered--and, you see, they were. "

Again the child!

"And what had she to do with my recovery?" Josè demanded fretfully. 

"_Quien sabe?_ It is sometimes that way when the little Carmen sayspeople shall not die. And then, " he added sadly, "sometimes they dodie just the same. It is strange; we do not understand it. " The gentlesoul sighed its perplexity. 

Josè looked up at him keenly. "Did the child say I should not die?" heasked softly, almost in a whisper. 

"Yes, Padre; she says God's children do not die, " returned Rosendo. 

The priest's blood stopped in its mad surge and slowly began to chill. God's children do not die! What uncanny influence had he met with herein this crumbling, forgotten town? He sought the index of his memoryfor the sensations he had felt when he looked into the girl's eyes onhis first morning in Simití. But memory reported back only impressionsof goodness--beauty--love. 

Then a dim light--only a feeble gleam--seemed to flash before him, butat a great distance. Something called him--not by name, but by againtouching that unfamiliar chord which had vibrated in his soul when thechild had first stood before him. He felt a strange psychicpresentiment as of things soon to be revealed. A sentiment akin to awestole over him, as if he were standing in the presence of a greatmystery--a mystery so transcendental that the groveling minds ofmortals have never apprehended it. He turned again to the man sittingbeside his bed. 

"Rosendo--where is she?"

"Asleep, Padre, " pointing to the other bed. "But we must not wakeher, " he admonished quickly, as the priest again sought to rise; "wewill talk of her to-morrow. I think--"

Rosendo stopped abruptly and looked at the priest as if he wouldfathom the inmost nature of the man. Then he continued uncertainly:

"I--I may have some things to say to you to-morrow--if you arewell enough to hear them. But I will think about it to-night, and--if--_Bien_! I will think about it. "

Rosendo rose slowly, as if weighted with heavy thoughts, and went outinto the living room. Presently he returned with a rude, homemadebroom and began to sweep a space on the dirt floor in the corneropposite Josè. This done, he spread out a light straw mat for hisbed. 

"The señora is preparing you a bowl of chicken broth and rice, Padre, "he said. "The little Carmen saved a hen for you when you should awake. She has fed it all the week on rice and goat's milk. She said she knewyou would wake up hungry. "

Josè's eyes had closely followed Rosendo's movements, although heseemed not to hear his words. Suddenly he broke forth in protest. 

"Rosendo, " he cried, "have I your bed? And do you sleep there on thefloor? I cannot permit this!"

"Say nothing, Padre, " replied Rosendo, gently forcing Josè back againupon his bed. "My house is yours. "

"But--the señora, your wife--where does she sleep?"

"She has her _petate_ in the kitchen, " was the quiet answer. 

Only the two poor beds, which were occupied by the priest and thechild! And Rosendo and his good wife had slept on the hard dirt floorfor a week! Josè's eyes dimmed when he realized the extent of theirunselfish hospitality. And would they continue to sleep thus on theground, with nothing beneath them but a thin straw mat, as long as hemight choose to remain with them? Aye, he knew that they would, uncomplainingly. For these are the children of the "valley of thepleasant 'yes. '"

Josè awoke the next morning with a song echoing in his ears. He haddreamed of singing; and as consciousness slowly returned, thedream-song became real. It floated in from the living room on a clear, sweet soprano. When a child he had heard such voices in the choir loftof the great Seville cathedral, and he had thought that angels weresinging. As he lay now listening to it, memories of his childishdreams swept over him in great waves. The soft, sweet cadences roseand fell. His own heart swelled and pulsated with them, and his barrensoul once more surged under the impulse of a deep, potential desire tomanifest itself, its true self, unhampered at last by limitation andconvention, unfettered by superstition, human creeds and falseambition. Then the inevitable reaction set in; a sickening sense ofthe futility of his longing settled over him, and he turned his faceto the wall, while hot tears streamed over his sunken cheeks. 

Again through his wearied brain echoed the familiar admonition, "Occupy till I come. " Always the same invariable response to hisstrained yearnings. The sweet voice in the adjoining room floated inthrough the dusty palm door. It spread over his perturbed thought likeoil on troubled waters. Perhaps it was the child singing. At thisthought the sense of awe seemed to settle upon him again. A child--ababe--had said that he should live! If a doctor had said it he wouldhave believed. But a child--absurd! It was a dream! But no; Rosendohad said it; and there was no reason to doubt him. But what had thischild to do with it? Nothing! And yet--was that wholly true? Thenwhence his sensations when first he saw her? Whence that feeling ofstanding in the presence of a great mystery? "Out of the mouths ofbabes and sucklings--" Foolishness! To be sure, the child may havesaid he should not die; but if he were to live--which God forbid!--hisown recuperative powers would restore him. Rosendo's livelyimagination certainly had exaggerated the incident. 

Exhausted by his mental efforts, and lulled by the low singing, thepriest sank into fitful slumber. As he slept he dreamed. He wasstanding alone in a great desert. Darkness encompassed him, and afearful loneliness froze his soul. About him lay bleaching bones. Neither trees nor vegetation broke the dull monotony of the cheerlessscene. Nothing but waste, unutterably dreary waste, over which a chillwind tossed the tinkling sand in fitful gusts. In terror he criedaloud. The desert mocked his hollow cry. The darkness thickened. Againhe called, his heart sinking with despair. 

Then, over the desolate waste, through the heavy gloom, a voice seemedborne faint on the cold air, "Occupy till I come!" He sank to hisknees. His straining eyes caught the feeble glint of a light, but atan immeasurable distance. Again he called; and again the sameresponse, but nearer. A glow began to suffuse the blackness about him. Nearer, ever nearer drew the gleam. The darkness lifted. The rocksbegan to bud. Trees and vines sprang from the waste sand. As if in atremendous explosion, a dazzling light burst full upon him, shatteringthe darkness, fusing the stones about him, and blinding his sight. Agreat presence stood before him. He struggled to his feet; and as hedid so a loud voice cried, "Behold, I come _quickly_!"

"_Señor Padre_, you have been dreaming!"

The priest, sitting upright and clutching at the rough sides of hisbed, stared with wooden obliviousness into the face of the littleCarmen. 

CHAPTER 3

"You are well now, aren't you, Padre?"

It was not so much an interrogation as an affirmation, an assumptionof fact. 

"Now you must come and see my garden--and Cucumbra, too. AndCantar-las-horas; have you heard him? I scolded him lots; and I knowhe wants to mind; but he just thinks he can't stop singing theVespers--the old stupid!"

While the child prattled she drew a chair to the bedside and arrangedthe bowl of broth and the two wheat rolls she had brought. 

"You are real hungry, and you are going to eat all of this and getstrong again. Right away!" she added, emphatically expressing herconfidence in the assumption. 

Josè made no reply. He seemed again to be trying to sound theunfathomable depths of the child's brown eyes. Mechanically he tookthe spoon she handed him. 

"See!" she exclaimed, while her eyes danced. "A silver spoon! MadreAriza borrowed it from Doña Maria Alcozer. They have lots of silver. Now eat. "

From his own great egoism, his years of heart-ache, sorrows, andshames, the priest's heavy thought slowly lifted and centered upon thechild's beautiful face. The animated little figure before him radiatedsuch abundant life that he himself caught the infection; and with ithis sense of weakness passed like an illusion. 

"And look, Padre! The broth--isn't it good?"

Josè tasted, and declared it delicious. 

"Well, you know"--the enthusiastic little maid clambered up on thebed--"yesterday it was Mañuela--she was my hen. I told her a week agothat you would need her--"

"And you gave up your hen for me, little one?" he interrupted. 

"Why--yes, Padre. It was all right. I told her how it was. And sheclucked so hard, I knew she was glad to help the good _Cura_. And shewas so happy about it! I told her she really wouldn't die. You know, things never do--do they?"

The priest hesitated. To hide his confusion and gain time he began toeat rapidly. 

"No, they don't, " said the girl confidently, answering her ownquestion. "Because, " she added, "God is _everywhere_--isn't He?"

What manner of answer could he, of all men, make to such terriblydirect questions as these! And it was well that Carmen evidentlyexpected none--that in her great innocence she assumed for him thesame beautiful faith which she herself held. 

"Doña Jacinta didn't die last week. But they said she did; and so theytook her to the cemetery and put her in a dark _bóveda_. And the blackbuzzards sat on the wall and watched them. Padre Rosendo said she hadgone to the angels--that God took her. But, Padre, God doesn't makepeople sick, does He? They get sick because they don't know who He is. Every day I told God I knew He would cure you. And He did, didn'tHe?"

While the girl paused for breath, her eyes sparkled, and her faceglowed with exaltation. Child-like, her active mind flew from onetopic to another, with no thought of connecting links. 

"This morning, Padre, two little green parrots flew across the lakeand perched on our roof. And they sat there and watched Cucumbra eathis breakfast; and they tried to steal his fish; and they scolded soloud! Why did they want to steal from him, when there is so much toeat everywhere? But they didn't know any better, did they? I don'tthink parrots love each other very much, for they scold so hard. Padre, it is so dark in here; come out and see the sun and the lakeand the mountains. And my garden--Padre, it is beautiful! Esteban saidnext time he went up the trail he would bring me a monkey for a pet;and I am going to name it Hombrecito. And Captain Julio is going tobring me a doll from down the river. But, " with a merry, musicaltrill, "Juan said the night you came that _you_ were my doll! Isn't hefunny!" And throwing back her little head, the child laughedheartily. 

"Padre, you must help padre Rosendo with his arithmetic. Every nighthe puts on his big spectacles and works so hard to understand it. Hesays he knows Satan made fractions. But, Padre, that isn't so, is it?Not if God made everything. Padre, you know _everything_, don't you?Padre Rosendo said you did. There are lots of things I want you totell me--such lots of things that nobody here knows anything about. Padre, "--the child leaned toward the priest and whispered low--"thepeople here don't know who God is; and you are going to teach them!There was a _Cura_ here once, when I was a baby; but I guess he didn'tknow God, either. "

She lapsed into silence, as if pondering this thought. Then, clappingher hands with unfeigned joy, she cried in a shrill little voice, "Oh, Padre, I am _so_ glad you have come to Simití! I just _knew_ God wouldnot forget us!"

Josè had no reply to make. His thought was busy with the phenomenonbefore him: a child of man, but one who, like Israel of old, saw Godand heard His voice at every turn of her daily walk. Untutored in theways of men, without trace of sophistication or cant, unblemished asshe moved among the soiled vessels about her, shining with celestialradiance in this unknown, moldering town so far from the world'sbeaten paths. 

The door opened softly and Rosendo entered, preceded by a cheerygreeting. 

_"Hombre!_" he exclaimed, surveying the priest, "but you mend fast!You have eaten all the broth! But I told the good wife that the littleCarmen would be better than medicine for you, and that you must haveher just as soon as you should awake. "

Josè's eyes dilated with astonishment. Absorbed in the child, he hadconsumed almost his entire breakfast. 

"He is well, padre Rosendo, he is well!" cried the girl, bounding upand down and dancing about the tall form of her foster-father. Then, darting to Josè, she seized his hand and cried, "Now to see my garden!And Cucumbra! And--!"

"Quiet, child!" commanded Rosendo, taking her by the arm. "The good_Cura_ is ill, and must rest for several days yet. "

"No, padre Rosendo, he is well--all well! Aren't you, Padre?"appealing to Josè, and again urging him forth. 

The rapidity of the conversation and the animation of the beautifulchild caused complete forgetfulness of self, and, together with therestorative effect of the wholesome food, acted upon the priest like amagical tonic. Weak though he was, he clung to her hand and, struggling out of the bed, stood uncertainly upon the floor. InstantlyRosendo's arm was about him. 

"Don't try it, Padre, " the latter urged anxiously. "The heat will betoo much for you. Another day or two of rest will make you right. "

But the priest, heedless of the admonition, suffered himself to be ledby the child; and together they passed slowly out into the livingroom, through the kitchen, and thence into the diminutive rose garden, the pride of the little Carmen. 

Doña Maria, wife of Rosendo, was bending over the primitive fireplace, busy with her matutinal duties, having just dusted the ashes from acorn _arepa_ which she had prepared for her consort's simple luncheon. She was a woman well into the autumn of life; but her form possessedsomething of the elegance of the Spanish dames of the colonial period;her countenance bore an expression of benevolence, which emanatedfrom a gentle and affectionate heart; and her manner combined bothdignity and suavity. She greeted the priest tenderly, and expressedmingled surprise and joy that he felt able to leave his bed so soon. But as her eyes caught Rosendo's meaning glance, and then turned tothe child, they seemed to indicate a full comprehension of thesituation. 

The rose garden consisted of a few square feet of black earth, bordered by bits of shale, and seemingly scarce able to furnishnourishment for the three or four little bushes. But, though small, these were blooming in profusion. 

"Padre Rosendo did this!" exclaimed the delighted girl. "Every nighthe brings water from _La Cienaga_ for them!"

Rosendo smiled patronizingly upon the child; but Josè saw in theglance of his argus eyes a tenderness and depth of affection for herwhich bespoke nothing short of adoration. 

Carmen bent over the roses, fondling and kissing them, and addressingthem endearing names. 

"She calls them God's kisses, " whispered Rosendo to the priest. 

At that moment a low growl was heard. Josè turned quickly andconfronted a gaunt dog, a wild breed, with eyes fixed upon the priestand white fangs showing menacingly beneath a curling lip. 

"Oh, Cucumbra!" cried the child, rushing to the beast and throwing herarms about its shaggy neck. "Haven't I told you to love everybody? Andis that the way to show it? Now kiss the _Cura's_ hand, for he lovesyou. "

The brute sank at her feet. Then as she took the priest's hand andheld it to the dog's mouth, he licked it with his rough tongue. 

The priest's brain was now awhirl. He stood gazing at the child as iffascinated. Through his jumbled thought there ran an insistent strain, "He that hath seen me hath seen the Father. The Father dwelleth in meand I in Him. " He did not associate these words with the Nazarene now, but with the barefoot girl before him. Again within the farthestdepths of his soul he heard the soft note of a vibrating chord--thatchord which all the years of his unhappy life had hung mute, untilhere, in this moldering town, in the wilderness of forgotten Guamocó, the hand of Love had swept it. 

The sun stood at the zenith. The day was white-hot. Doña Mariasummoned her little family to the midday repast. Rosendo brought achair for Josè and placed it near the rose garden in the shade of thehouse, for, despite all protest, the priest had stubbornly refused toreturn to his bed. Left now to himself, his thought hovered about thechild, and then drifted out across the incandescent shales to thebeautiful lake beyond. The water lay like shimmering glass. In thedistance the wooded slopes of the San Lucas mountains rose like greenbillows. Brooding silence spread over the scene. It was Nature's hourof _siesta_. In his own heart there was a great peace--and a strangeexpectancy. He seemed to be awaiting a revelation of things close athand. In a way he felt that he had accomplished his purpose of comingto Simití to die, and that he was now awaiting the resurrection. 

The peaceful revery was interrupted by Rosendo. "Padre, if you willnot return to your bed--" He regarded the priest dubiously. 

"No, Rosendo. I grow stronger every minute. But--where is Carmen?"

"She must help her mother. "

A long pause ensued, while Josè impatiently waited for Rosendo tocontinue. The child was becoming his obsession. He was eager to talkof her, to learn her history, to see her, for her presence meantcomplete obliteration of self. 

"Padre, " Rosendo at length emerged from his meditation. "I would liketo speak of the little Carmen. "

"Yes, " responded Josè with animation. Life and strength seemed toreturn to him with a bound. 

"But--what say you? Shall we visit the church, which is only acrossthe road? There we can talk without interruption. No one will be inthe streets during the heat. And I will carry you over. "

"Let us go to the church, yes; but I can walk. It is only a step. "

Josè leaned upon Rosendo, the latter supporting him with his greatarm, and together they crossed the road and mounted the shale platformon which stood the ancient edifice. Rosendo produced a huge key ofantique pattern; and the rusty lock, after much resistance, yieldedwith a groan, and the heavy door creaked open, emitting an odor ofdampness and must. Doffing their hats, the men entered the long, barn-like room. Rosendo carefully closed and locked the door behindthem, a precaution necessary in a drowsing town of this nature, wherethe simple folk who see day after day pass without concern or event tobreak the deadening monotony, assemble in eager, buzzing multitudes atthe slightest prospect of extraordinary interest. 

The room was dimly lighted, and was open to the peak of the roof. Fromthe rough-hewn rafters above hung hundreds of hideous bats. At the farend stood the altar. It was adorned with decrepit images, and held alarge wooden statue of the Virgin. This latter object was veiled withtwo flimsy curtains, which were designed to be raised and lowered withgreat pomp and the ringing of a little bell during service. The imagewas attired in real clothes, covered with tawdry finery, gilt paper, and faded ribbons. The head bore a wig of hair; and the face waspainted, although great sections of the paint had fallen, away, leaving the suggestion of pockmarks. Beneath this image was locatedthe _sagrario_, the little cupboard in which the _hostia_, the sacredwafer, was wont to be kept exposed in the _custodia_, a cheapreceptacle composed of two watch crystals. At either side of thisstood half consumed wax tapers. A few rough benches were strewn aboutthe floor; and dust and green mold lay thick over all. 

At the far right-hand corner of the building a lean-to had beenerected to serve as the _sacristía_, or vestry. In the worm-eatenwardrobe within hung a few vestments, adorned with cheap finery, andheavily laden with dust, over which scampered vermin of manyvarieties. An air of desolation and abandon hung over the wholechurch, and to Josè seemed to symbolize the decay of a sterile faith. 

Rosendo carefully dusted off a bench near one of the windows and badeJosè be seated. 

"_Padre_, " he began, after some moments of deep reflection, "thelittle Carmen is not an ordinary child. "

"I have seen that, Rosendo, " interposed Josè. 

"We--we do not understand her, " Rosendo went on, carefully weighinghis words; "and we sometimes think she is not--not altogether likeus--that her coming was a miracle. But you do not believe inmiracles, " he added quizzically. 

"Why do you say that, Rosendo?" Josè returned in surprise. 

Rosendo paused before replying. 

"You were very sick, Padre; and in the fever you--" the impeccablyhonest fellow hesitated. 

"Yes, I thought so, " said Josè with an air of weary resignation. "Andwhat else did I say, Rosendo?"

The faultless courtesy of the artless Rosendo, a courtesy so genuinethat Josè knew it came right from the heart, made conversation on thistopic a matter of extreme difficulty to him. 

"Do not be uneasy, Padre, " he said reassuringly. "I alone heard you. Whenever you began to talk I would not let others listen; and I stayedwith you every day and night. But--it is just because of what you saidin the _calentura_ that I am speaking to you now of the littleCarmen. "

Because of what he had said in his delirium! Josè's astonishment grewapace. 

"Padre, many bad priests have been sent to Simití. It has been ourcurse. Priests who stirred up revolution elsewhere, who committedmurder, and ruined the lives of fair women, have been put upon us. Andwhen in Badillo I learned that you had been sent to our parish, I wasfilled with fear. I--I lost a daughter, Padre--"

The good man hesitated again. Then, as a look of stern resolutionspread over his strong, dark face, he continued:

"It was Padre Diego! We drove him out of Simití four years ago. But mydaughter, my only child, went with him. " The great frame shook withemotion, while he hurried on disconnectedly. 

"Padre, the priest Diego said that the little Carmen should become aSister--a nun--that she must be sent to the convent in Mompox--thatshe belonged to the Church, and the Church would some day have her. But, by the Holy Virgin, the Church shall _not_ have her! And I myselfwill slay her before this altar rather than let such as Padre Diegolay their slimy paws upon the angel child!"

Rosendo leaped to his feet and began to pace the floor with greatstrides. The marvelous frame of the man, in which beat a heart too bigfor the sordid passions of the flesh, trembled as he walked. Josèwatched him in mute admiration, mingled with astonishment and aheightened sense of expectancy. Presently Rosendo returned and seatedhimself again beside the priest. 

"Padre, I have lived in terror ever since Diego left Simití. Formyself I do not fear, for if ever I meet with the wretch I shall wringhis neck with my naked hands! But--for the little Carmen--_Dios!_ theymight steal her at any time! There are men here who would do it for afew _pesos_! And how could I prevent it? I pray daily to the Virgin toprotect her. She--she is the light of my life. I watch over herhourly. I neglect my _hacienda_, that I may guard her--and I am a poorman, and cannot afford not to work. "

The man buried his face in his huge hands and groaned aloud. Josèremained pityingly silent, knowing that Rosendo's heaving heart mustempty itself. 

"Padre, " Rosendo at length raised his head. His features were drawn, but his eyes glowed fiercely. "Priests have committed dark deeds here, and this altar has dripped with blood. When a child, with my own eyesI saw a priest elevate the Host before this altar, as the people kneltin adoration. While their heads were bowed I saw him drive a knifeinto the neck of a man who was his enemy; and the blood spurted overthe image of the Virgin and fell upon the Sacred Host itself! Andwhat did the wicked priest say in defense? Simply that he took thistime to assassinate his man because then the victim could die adoringthe Host and under the most favorable circumstances for salvation!_Hombre!_ And did the priest pay the penalty for his crime? No! TheBishop of Cartagena transferred him to another parish, and told him todo better in future!"

Josè started in horror. But Rosendo did not stop. 

"And I remember the story my father used to tell of the priest whopoisoned a whole family in Simití with the communion wafer. Theirestates had been willed to the Church, and he was impatient to havethe management of them. Again nothing was done about it. "

"But, Rosendo, if Simití has been so afflicted by bad priests, why areyou confiding in me?" Josè asked in wonder. 

"Because, Padre, " Rosendo replied, "in the fever you said many thingsthat made me think you were not a bad man. I did suspect you atfirst--but not after I heard you talk in your sleep. You, too, havesuffered. And the Church has caused it. No, not God; but the men whosay they know what He thinks and says. They make us all suffer. Andafter I heard you tell those things in your fever-sleep, I said toMaria that if you lived I knew you would help me protect the littleCarmen. Then, too, you are a--" He lapsed abruptly into silence. 

Josè pressed Rosendo's hand. "Tell me about her. You have said she isnot your daughter. I ask only because of sincere affection for youall, and because the child has aroused in me an unwonted interest. "

Rosendo looked steadily into the eyes of the priest for some moments. Josè as steadily returned the glance. From the eyes of the one thereemanated a soul-searching scrutiny; from those of the other ananswering bid for confidence. The bid was accepted. 

"Padre, " began Rosendo, "I place trust in you. Something makes mebelieve that you are not like other priests I have known. And I haveseen that you already love the little Carmen. No, she is not my child. One day, about eight years ago, a steamer on its way down the rivertouched at Badillo to put off a young woman, who was so sick that thecaptain feared she would die on board. He knew nothing of her, exceptthat she had embarked at Honda and was bound for Barranquilla. Hehoped that by leaving her in the care of the good people of Badillosomething might be done. The boat went its way; and the next morningthe woman died, shortly after her babe was born. They buried her backof the village, and Escolastico's woman took the child. They tried tolearn the history of the mother; but, though the captain of the boatmade many inquiries, he could only find that she had come from Bogotáthe day before the boat left Honda, and that she was then very sick. Some weeks afterward Escolastico happened to come to Simití, and toldme the story. He complained that his family was already large, andthat his woman found the care of the babe a burden. I love children, Padre, and it seemed to me that I could find a place for the littleone, and I told him I would fetch her. And so a few days later Ibrought her to Simití. But before leaving Badillo I fixed a woodencross over the mother's grave and wrote on it in pencil the name'_Dolores_, ' for that was the name in the little gold locket which wefound in her valise. There were some clothes, better than the average, and the locket. In the locket were two small pictures, one of a youngman, with the name '_Guillermo_' written beneath it, and one of thewoman, with '_Dolores_' under it. That was all. Captain Julio took thelocket to Honda when he made inquiries there; but brought it backagain, saying that nobody recognized the faces. I named the babeCarmen, and have brought her up as my own child. She--Padre, I adoreher!"

Josè listened in breathless silence. 

"But we sometimes think, " said Rosendo, resuming his dramaticnarrative, "that it was all a miracle, perhaps a dream; that it wasthe angels who left the babe on the river bank, for she herself is notof the earth. "

"Tell me, Rosendo, just what you mean, " said Josè reverently, layinghis hand gently upon the older man's arm. 

Rosendo shook his head slowly. "Talk with her, Padre, and you willsee. I cannot explain. Only, she is not like us. She is like--"

His voice dropped to a whisper. 

"--she is like--God. And she knows Him better than she knows me. "

Josè's head slowly sank upon his breast. The gloom within the mustychurch was thick; and the bats stirred restlessly among the dustyrafters overhead. Outside, the relentless heat poured down upon thedeserted streets. 

"Padre, " Rosendo resumed. "In the _calentura_ you talked of wonderfulthings. You spoke of kings and popes and foreign lands, of beautifulcities and great marvels of which we know nothing. It was wonderful!And you recited beautiful poems--but often in other tongues than ours. Padre, you must be very learned. I listened, and was astonished, forwe are so ignorant here in Simití, oh, so ignorant! We have noschools, and our poor little children grow up to be only _peones_ andfishermen. But--the little Carmen--ah, she has a mind! Padre--"

Again he lapsed into silence, as if fearful to ask the boon. 

"Yes, Rosendo, yes, " Josè eagerly reassured him. "Go on. "

Rosendo turned full upon the priest and spoke rapidly. "Padre, willyou teach the little Carmen what you know? Will you make her a strong, learned woman, and fit her to do big things in the world--andthen--then--"

"Yes, Rosendo?"

"--then get her away from Simití? She does not belong here, Padre. And--?" his voice sank to a hoarse whisper--"will you help me keep herfrom the Church?"

Josè sat staring at the man with dilating eyes. 

"Padre, she has her own Church. It is her heart. "

He leaned over and laid a hand upon the priest's knee. His dark eyesseemed to burn like glowing coals. His whispered words were fraughtwith a meaning which Josè would some day learn. 

"Padre, _that_ must be left alone!"

A long silence fell upon the two men, the one massive of frame andblack of face, but with a mind as simple as a child's and a heart aswhite as the snow that sprinkled his raven locks--the other ayouth in years, but bowed with disappointment and suffering; yet nowlistening with hushed breath to the words that rolled with a mightyreverberation through the chambers of his soul:

"I am God, and there is none else! Behold, I come quickly! Arise, shine, for thy light is come!"

The sweet face of the child rose out of the gloom before the priest. The years rolled back like a curtain, and he saw himself at her tenderage, a white, unformed soul, awaiting the sculptor's hand. God forbidthat the hand which shaped his career should form the plastic mind ofthis girl!

Of a sudden a great thought flashed out of the depths of eternity andinto his brain, a thought which seemed to illumine his whole pastlife. In the clear light thereof he seemed instantly to read meaningsin numberless events which to that hour had remained hidden. Hiscomplex, misshapen career--could it have been a preparation?--and forthis? He had yearned to serve his fellow-men, but had miserablyfailed. For, while to will was always present with him, even as withPaul, yet how to perform that which was good he found not. Butnow--what an opportunity opened before him! What a beautiful offeringof self was here made possible? God, what a privilege!

Rosendo sat stolid, buried in thought. Josè reached out through thedim light and grasped his black hand. His eyes were lucent, his heartburned with the fire of an unknown enthusiasm, and speech stumbledacross his lips. 

"Rosendo, I came to Simití to die. And now I know that I _shall_die--to myself. But thereby shall I live. Yes, I shall live! And herebefore this altar, in the sight of that God whom she knows so well, Ipledge my new-found life to Carmen. My mind, my thought, my strength, are henceforth hers. May her God direct me in their right use for Hisbeautiful child!"

Josè and Rosendo rose from the bench with hands still clasped. In thathour the priest was born again. 

CHAPTER 4

"He that loseth his life for my sake shall find it. "

The reporters of the unique Man of Galilee, upon whose straining earsthese words fell, noted them for future generations of footsorepilgrims on life's wandering highway--for the rich, satiated withtheir gorgeous gluttonies; for the proud Levite, with his feetenmeshed in the lifeless letter of the Law; for the loathsome andoutcast beggar at the gates of Dives. And for Josè de Rincón, priestof the Holy Catholic Church and vicar of Christ, scion of aristocracyand worldly learning, now humbled and blinded, like Paul on the roadto Damascus, begging that his spiritual sight might be opened to theglory of the One with whom he had not known how to walk. 

Returning in silence from the church to Rosendo's humble cottage, Josèhad asked leave to retire. He would be alone with the great Presencewhich had come to him across the desert of his life, and now stoodbefore him in the brightness of the undimmed sun. He no longer feltill nor exhausted. Indeed, quite the contrary; a quickened sense oflife, an eagerness to embrace the opportunity opening before him, caused his chest to heave and his shrunken veins to throb. 

On his bed in the darkened room he lay in a deep silence, broken onlyat intervals by the hurried scampering of lizards darting through theinterstices of the dry walls. His uncomprehending eyes were fixed uponthe dust-laden thatch of the roof overhead, where droning wasps toiledupon their frail abodes. He lay with the portals of his mind openedwide. Through them, in ceaseless flow, passed two streams which didnot mingle. The one, outward bound, turbid with its burden of egoism, fear, perplexity, and hopelessness, which, like barnacles, hadfastened to his soul on its chartless voyage; the other, a stream ofhope and confidence and definite purpose, a stream which leaped andsang in the warm sunlight of Love as it poured into his receptivebrain. 

The fresh thought which flowed into his mental chambers rapidly formedinto orderly plans, all centering upon the child, Carmen. What couldhe teach her? The relative truths and worldly knowledge--purified, as far as in him lay, from the dross of speculation and humanopinion--which lay stored in the archives of his mind? Yes; but thatwas all. History, and its interpretation of human progress; thelanguages; mathematics, and the elements of the physical sciences;literature; and a knowledge of people and places. With these hisretentive mind was replete. But beyond this he must learn of her. And her tutor, he now knew, was the Master Mind, omniscient God. And he knew, more, that she possessed secrets whose potency he mightas yet scarcely imagine. For, in an environment which for dearth ofmental stimulus and incentive could scarcely be matched; amidpoverty but slightly raised above actual want; untouched by thetemperamental hopelessness which lies just beneath the surface ofthese dull, simple folk, this child lived a life of such ecstasy asmight well excite the envy of the world's potentates. 

But meantime, what should be his attitude toward the parish? He fullyrealized that he and the Church were now as far apart as the poles. Yet this was become his parish, the first he had ever held; and thesewere his people. And he must face them and preach--what? If not theCatholic faith, then would he be speedily removed. And that meantcomplete disruption of his rapidly formulating plans. But might he notin that event flee with Carmen, renounce the Church, and--

Impossible! Excommunication alone could sever the oath by which theChurch held him. And for that he could not say that he was ready. Forexcommunication meant disgrace to his mother--perhaps the snapping ofa heart already sorely strained. To renounce his oath was dishonor. Topreach the Catholic faith without sincerity was scarcely less. Yetamid present circumstances this seemed the only course open to him. 

But what must he teach Carmen in regard to the Church? Could hemaintain his position in it, yet not of it; and at the same time rearher without its pale, yet so as not to conflict with the people ofSimití, nor cause such comment as might reach the ears of the Bishopof Cartagena? God alone knew. It must be attempted, at any rate. Therewas no other way. And if it was God's plan, he might safely trust Himfor the requisite strength and wisdom. For this course the isolationof Simití and the childish simplicity of its people afforded atremendous advantage. On the other hand, he knew that both he andCarmen had powerful enemies. Yet, one with God might rout a host. AndCarmen walked with God. 

Thus throughout the afternoon the priest weighed and pondered thethoughts that sought admission to his reawakened mind. He was notinterrupted until sundown; and then Carmen entered the room with abowl of chocolate and some small wheaten loaves. Behind her, with anamusing show of dignity, stalked a large heron, an elegant bird, withlong, scarlet legs, gray plumage, and a gracefully curved neck. Whenthe bird reached the threshold it stopped, and without warning gavevent to a prolonged series of shrill, unmusical sounds. The startledpriest sat up in his bed and exclaimed in amazement. 

"It is only Cantar-las-horas, Padre, " laughed the little maid. "Hefollows me wherever I go, unless he is off fishing. Sometimes when Igo out in the boat with padre Rosendo he flies clear across the laketo meet us. He is lots older than I, and years ago, when there were_Curas_ here, he learned his song. Whenever the _Angelas_ rang hewould try to sing just like it; and now he has the habit and can'thelp it. But he is such a dear, wise old fellow, " twining a chubby armlovingly about the bird's slender neck; "and he always sings just atsix o'clock, the time the _Angelas_ used to ring. "

The heron manifested the deepest affection for the child as she gentlystroked its plumage and caressed its long, pointed bill. 

"But how do you suppose he knows when it is just six o'clock, _chiquita_?" asked Josè, deeply interested in the strange phenomenon. 

"God tells him, Padre, " was the direct and simple reply. 

Assuredly, he should have known that! But he was fast learning of thisunusual child, whose every movement was a demonstration of Immanuel. 

"Does God tell you what to do, Carmen?" he asked, seeking to draw outthe girl's strange thought, that he might probe deeper into herreligious convictions. 

"Why, yes, Padre. " Her tone expressed surprise. "Doesn't He tell you, too?" Her great eyes searched him. He was a _Cura_; he should be veryclose to God. 

"Yes, _chiquita_--that is, He has told me to-day what to do. "

There was a shade of disappointment in her voice when she replied: "Iguess you mean you listened to Him to-day, don't you, Padre? I thinksometimes you don't want to hear Him. But, " she finished with a littlesigh, "there are lots of people here who don't; and that is why theyare sick and unhappy. "

Josè was learning another lesson, that of guarding his speech to thisingenuous girl. He discreetly changed the subject. 

"What have you been doing this afternoon, little one?"

Her eyes instantly brightened, and the dark shade that had crossed herface disappeared. 

"Well, after the _siesta_ I helped madre Maria clean the yuccas forsupper; and then I did my writing lesson. Padre Rosendo told me to-daythat I could write better than he. But, Padre, will you teach madreMaria to read and write? And there are just lots of poor people herewho can't, too. There is a school teacher in Simití, but he charges awhole _peso oro_ a month for teaching; and the people haven't themoney, and so they can't learn. "

Always the child shifted his thought from herself to others. Again sheshowed him that the road to happiness wound among the needs of hisfellow-men. The priest mentally recorded the instruction; and the girlcontinued:

"Padre Rosendo told madre Maria that you said you had come to Simitíto die. You were not thinking of us then, were you, Padre? People whothink only of themselves always want to die. That was why Don Luisdied last year. He had lots of gold, and he always wanted more, and hewas cruel and selfish, and he couldn't talk about anything but himselfand how rich he was--and so he died. He didn't really die; but hethought about himself until he thought he died. And so they buriedhim. That's what always happens to people who think about themselvesall the time--they get buried. "

Josè was glad of the silence that fell upon them. Wrapped so long inhis own egoism, he had now no worldly wisdom with which to match thisgirl's sapient words. He waited. He felt that Carmen was but thechannel through which a great Voice was speaking. 

"Padre, " the tones were tender and soft, "you don't always think ofgood things, do you?"

"I? Why, no, little girl. I guess I haven't done so. That is, notalways. But--"

"Because if you had you wouldn't have been driven into the lake thatday. And you wouldn't be here now in Simití. "

"But, child, even a _Cura_ cannot always think of good things, when hesees so much wickedness in the world!"

"But, Padre, God is good, isn't He?"

"Yes, child. " The necessity to answer could not be avoided. 

"And He is everywhere?"

"Yes. " He had to say it. 

"Then where is the wickedness, Padre?"

"Why--but, _chiquita_, you don't understand; you are too young toreason about such things; and--"

In his heart Josè knew he spoke not the truth. He felt the greatbrown eyes of the girl penetrate his naked soul; and he knew that inthe dark recesses of the inner man they fell upon the grinningskeleton of hypocrisy. Carmen might be, doubtless was, incapable ofreasoning. Of logical processes she knew nothing. But by what crassassumption might he, admittedly woefully defeated in his combat withFate, oppose his feeble shafts of worldly logic to this child'sinstinct, an instinct of whose inerrancy her daily walk was a livingdemonstration? In quick penitence and humility he stretched out hisarm and drew her unresisting to him. 

"Dear little child of God, " he murmured, as he bent over her andtouched his lips to her rich brown curls, "I have tried my life longto learn what you already know. And at last I have been led to you--toyou, little one, who shall be a lamp unto my feet. Dearest child, Iwant to know your God as you know Him. I want you to lead me to Him, for you know where He is. "

"He is _everywhere_, Padre dear, " whispered the child, as shenestled close to the priest and stole her soft arms gently about hisneck. "But we don't see Him nor hear Him if we have bad thoughts, andif we don't love everybody and everything, even Cucumbra, andCantar-las-horas, and--"

"Yes, _chiquita_, I know now, " interrupted Josè. "I don't wonder theyall love you. "

"But, Padre dear, I love them--and I love you. "

The priest strained her to him. His famished heart yearned for love. Love! first of the tender graces which adorned this beautiful child. Verily, only those imbued with it become the real teachers of men. Thebeloved disciple's last instruction to his dear children was thetender admonition to love one another. But why, oh, why are we biddento love the fallen, sordid outcasts of this wicked world--thewretched, sinning pariahs--the greedy, grasping, self-centered mass ofhumanity that surges about us in such woeful confusion of good andevil? Because the wise Master did. Because he said that God was Love. Because he taught that he who loves not, knows not God. And because, oh, wonderful spiritual alchemy! because Love is the magical potionwhich, dropping like heavenly dew upon sinful humanity, dissolves thevice, the sorrow, the carnal passions, and transmutes the brutishmortal into the image and likeness of the perfect God. 

Far into the night, while the child slept peacefully in the bed nearhim, Josè lay thinking of her and of the sharp turn which she hadgiven to the direction of his life. Through the warm night air thehoarse croaking of distant frogs and the mournful note of the toucanfloated to his ears. In the street without he heard at intervals thepattering of bare feet in the hot, thick dust, as tardy fishermenreturned from their labors. The hum of insects about his _toldo_lulled him with its low monotone. The call of a lonely jaguar driftedacross the still lake from the brooding jungle beyond. A great peacelay over the ancient town; and when, in the early hours of morning, asthe distorted moon hung low in the western sky, Josè awoke, the softbreathing of the child fell upon his ears like a benediction; and deepfrom his heart there welled a prayer--

"My God--_her_ God--at last I thank Thee!"

CHAPTER 5

The day following was filled to the brim with bustling activity. Josèplunged into his new life with an enthusiasm he had never knownbefore. His first care was to relieve Rosendo and his good wife of theburden of housing him. Rosendo, protesting against the intimation thatthe priest could in any way inconvenience him, at last suggested thatthe house adjoining his own, a small, three-room cottage, was vacant, and might be had at a nominal rental. Some repairs were needed; themud had fallen from the walls in several places; but he would plasterit up again and put it into habitable condition at once. 

During the discussion Don Mario, the Alcalde, called to pay hisrespects to Josè. He had just returned from a week's visit to Ocaña, whither he had gone on matters of business with Simití's most eminentcitizen, Don Felipe Alcozer, who was at present sojourning there forreasons of health. Learning of the priest's recent severe illness, DonMario had hastened at once to pay his _devoirs_. And now the HolyVirgin be praised that he beheld the _Cura_ again fully restored! Yes, the dismal little house in question belonged to him, but would the_Cura_ graciously accept it, rent free, and with his most sincerecompliments? Josè glanced at Rosendo and, reading a meaning in theslight shake of his head, replied that, although overwhelmed by theAlcalde's kindness, he could take the cottage only on the conditionthat it should become the parish house, which the Church must support. A shade of disappointment seemed to cross the heavy face of Don Mario, but he graciously acquiesced in the priest's suggestion; andarrangements were at once concluded whereby the house became thedwelling place of the new _Cura_. 

Rosendo thereupon sent out a call for assistants, to which the entireunemployed male population of the town responded. Mud for the wallswas hastily brought from the lake, and mixed with manure and driedgrass. A half dozen young men started for the islands to cut freshthatch for the roof. Others set about scraping the hard dirt floors;while Don Mario gave orders which secured a table, several roughchairs, together with iron stewpans and a variety of enameled metaldishes, all of which Rosendo insisted should be charged against theparish. The village carpenter, with his rusty tools and rough, undressed lumber, constructed a bed in one of the rooms; and Juan, theboatman, laboriously sought out stones of the proper shape and size tosupport the cooking utensils in the primitive dirt hearth. 

Often, as he watched the progress of these arrangements, Josè'sthoughts reverted longingly to his father's comfortable house infar-off Seville; to his former simple quarters in Rome; and to theless pretentious, but still wholly sufficient _ménage_ of Cartagena. Compared with this primitive dwelling and the simple husbandry whichit would shelter, his former abodes and manner of life had beenextravagantly luxurious. At times he felt a sudden sinking of heart ashe reflected that perhaps he should never again know anything betterthan the lowly life of this dead town. But when his gaze rested uponthe little Carmen, flying hither and yon with an ardent, anticipatoryinterest in every detail of the preparations, and when he realizedthat, though her feet seemed to rest in the squalid setting affordedby this dreary place, yet her thought dwelt ever in heaven, his heartwelled again with a great thankfulness for the inestimable privilegeof giving his new life, in whatever environment, to a soul so fair ashers. 

While his house was being set in order under the direction of Rosendo, Josè visited the church with the Alcalde to formulate plans for itsimmediate repair and renovation. As he surveyed the ancient pile andreflected that it stood as a monument to the inflexible religiousconvictions of his own distant progenitors, the priest's sensibilitieswere profoundly stirred. How little he knew of that long line ofillustrious ancestry which preceded him! He had been thrust from underthe parental wing at the tender age of twelve; but he could not recallthat even before that event his father had ever made more than casualmention of the family. Indeed, in the few months since arriving onancestral soil Josè had gathered up more of the threads which boundhim to the ancient house of Rincón than in all the years whichpreceded. Had he himself only been capable of the unquestioningacceptance of religious dogma which those old _Conqueros_ and earlyforbears exhibited, to what position of eminence in Holy Church mighthe not already have attained, with every avenue open to still greaterpreferment! How happy were his dear mother then! How glorious theirhonored name!--

With a sigh the priest roused himself and strove to thrust thesedisturbing thoughts from his mind by centering his attention upon thework in hand. Doña Maria came to him for permission to take the moldyvestments from the _sacristía_ to her house to clean them. TheAlcalde, bustling about, panting and perspiring, was distributingcountless orders among his willing assistants. Carmen, who throughoutthe morning had been everywhere, bubbling with enthusiasm, nowappeared at the church door. As she entered the musty, ill-smellingold building she hesitated on the threshold, her childish face screwedinto an expression of disgust. 

"Come in, little one; I need your inspiration, " called Josè cheerily. 

The child approached, and slipped her hand into his. "Padre Rosendosays this is God's house, " she commented, looking up at Josè. "He saysyou are going to talk about God here--in this dirty, smelly old place!Why don't you talk about Him out of doors?"

Josè was becoming innured to the embarrassment which her directquestions occasioned. And he was learning not to dissemble in hisreplies. 

"It is because the people want to come here, dear one; it is theircustom. "

Would the people believe that the wafer and wine could be changed intothe flesh and blood of Jesus elsewhere--even in Nature's temple?

"But _I_ don't want to come here!" she asseverated. 

"That was a naughty thing to say to the good _Cura_, child!"interposed Don Mario, who had overheard the girl's remark. "You see, Padre, how we need a _Cura_ here to save these children; otherwise theChurch is going to lose them. They are running pretty wild, andespecially this one. She is already dedicated to the Church; but shewill have to learn to speak more reverently of holy things if sheexpects to become a good Sister. "

The child looked uncomprehendingly from, one to the other. 

"Who dedicated her to the Church?" demanded Josè sharply. 

"Oh, Padre Diego, at her baptism, when she was a baby, " replied DonMario in a matter of fact tone. 

Josè shuddered at the thought of that unholy man's loathsome handsresting upon the innocent girl. But he made no immediate reply. Ofall things, he knew that the guarding of his own tongue was now mostimportant. But his thought was busy with Rosendo's burning words ofthe preceding day, and with his own solemn vow. He reflected on hispresent paradoxical, hazardous position; on the tremendous problemwhich here confronted him; and on his desperate need of wisdom--yea, superhuman wisdom--to ward off from this child the net which he knewthe subtlety and cruel cunning of shrewd, unscrupulous men would someday cause to be cast about her. A soul like hers, mirrored in a bodyso wondrous fair, must eventually draw the devil's most envenomedbarbs. 

To Josè's great relief Don Mario turned immediately from the presenttopic to one relating to the work of renovation. Finding a pretext forsending Carmen back to the house, the priest gave his attentionunreservedly to the Alcalde. But his mind ceased not to revolve theimplications in Don Mario's words relative to the girl; and when themidday _siesta_ came upon him his brow was knotted and his eyes gazedvacantly at the manifestations of activity about him. 

Hurrying across the road to escape the scalding heat, Josè's earsagain caught the sound of singing, issuing evidently from Rosendo'shouse. It was very like the clear, sweet voice which had floated intohis room the morning after he awoke from his delirium. He approachedthe door reverently and looked in. Carmen was arranging the few poordishes upon the rough table, and as she worked, her soul flowed acrossher lips in song. 

The man listened astonished. The words and the simple melody whichcarried them were evidently an improvisation. But the voice--did thatissue from a human throat? Yes, for in distant Spain and far-off Rome, in great cathedrals and concert halls, he had sometimes listenedentranced to voices like this--stronger, and delicately trained, butreared upon even less of primitive talent. 

The girl caught sight of him; and the song died on the warm air. 

The priest strode toward her and clasped her in his arms. "Carmen, child! Who taught you to sing like that?"

The girl smiled up in his face. "God, Padre. "

Of course! He should have known. And in future he need never ask. 

"And I suppose He tells you when to sing, too, as He doesCantar-las-horas?" said Josè, smiling in amusement. 

"No, Padre, " was the unaffected answer. "He just sings Himself inme. "

The man felt rebuked for his light remark; and a lump rose in histhroat. He looked again into her fair face with a deep yearning. 

Oh, ye of little faith! Did you but know--could you but realize--thatthe kingdom of heaven is within you, would not celestial melody flowfrom your lips, too?

Throughout the afternoon, while he labored with his willing helpers inthe church building and his homely cottage, the child's song lingeredin his brain, like the memory of a sweet perfume. His eyes followedher lithe, graceful form as she flitted about, and his mind was busydevising pretexts for keeping her near him. At times she would stealup close to him and put her little hand lovingly and confidingly intohis own. Then as he looked down into her upturned face, wreathed withsmiles of happiness, his breath would catch, and he would turnhurriedly away, that she might not see the tears which suffused hiseyes. 

When night crept down, unheralded, from the _Sierras_, the priest'shouse stood ready for its occupant. Cantar-las-horas had dedicated itby singing the _Angelus_ at the front door, for the hour of six hadovertaken him as he stood, with cocked head, peering curiously within. The dwelling, though pitifully bare, was nevertheless as clean asthese humble folk with the primitive means at their command couldrender it. Instead of the customary hard _macana_ palm strips for thebed, Rosendo had thoughtfully substituted a large piece of tough whitecanvas, fastened to a rectangular frame, which rested on posts wellabove the damp floor. On this lay a white sheet and a light blanket ofred flannel. Rosendo had insisted that, for the present, Josè shouldtake his meals with him. The priest's domestic arrangements, therefore, would be simple in the extreme; and Doña Maria quietlyannounced that these were in her charge. The church edifice would notbe in order for some days yet, perhaps a week. But of this Josè wassecretly glad, for he regarded with dread the necessity of dischargingthe priestly functions. And yet, upon that hinged his stay in Simití. 

"Simití has two churches, you know, Padre, " remarked Rosendo duringthe evening meal. "There is another old one near the eastern edge oftown. If you wish, we can visit it while there is yet light. "

Josè expressed his pleasure; and a few minutes later the two men, withCarmen dancing along happily beside them, were climbing the shalyeminence upon the summit of which stood the second church. On the waythey passed the town cemetery. 

"The Spanish cemetery never grows, " commented Josè, stopping at thecrumbling gateway and peering in. The place of sepulture was theepitome of utter desolation. A tumbled brick wall surrounded it, andthere were a few broken brick vaults, in some of which whitening boneswere visible. In a far corner was a heap of human bones and bits ofdecayed coffins. 

"Their rent fell due, Padre, " said Rosendo with a little laugh, indicating the bones. "The Church rents this ground to the people--itis consecrated, you know. And if the payments are not made, why, thebones come up and are thrown over there. "

"Humph!" grunted Josè. "Worse than heathenish!"

"But you see, Padre, the Church is only concerned with souls. And itis better to pay the money to get souls out of purgatory than to renta bit of ground for the body, is it not?"

Josè wisely vouchsafed no answer. 

"Come, Padre, " continued Rosendo. "I would not want to have to spendthe night here. For, you know, if a man spends a night in a cemeteryan evil spirit settles upon him--is it not so?"

Josè still kept silence before the old man's inbred superstition. Afew minutes later they stood before the old church. It was in theSpanish mission style, but smaller than the one in the central_plaza_. 

"This was built in the time of your great-grandfather, Padre, thefather of Don Ignacio, " offered Rosendo. "The Rincón family had manypowerful enemies throughout the country, and those in Simití evencarried their ill feeling so far as to refuse to hear Mass in thechurch which your family built. So they erected this one. No one everenters it now. Strange noises are sometimes heard inside, and thepeople are afraid to go in. You see there are no houses built near it. They say an angel of the devil lives here and thrashes around at timesin terrible anger. There is a story that many years ago, when I wasbut a baby, the devil's angel came and entered this church one darknight, when there was a terrible storm and the waves of the lake wereso strong that they tossed the crocodiles far up on the shore. Andwhen the bad angel saw the candles burning on the altar before thesacred wafer he roared in anger and blew them out. But there was abeautiful painting of the Virgin on the wall, and when the lights wentout she came down out of her picture and lighted the candles again. But the devil's angel blew them out once more. And then, they say, theHoly Virgin left the church in darkness and went out and locked thewicked angel in, where he has been ever since. That was to show herdispleasure against the enemies of the great Rincóns for erecting thischurch. The _Cura_ died suddenly that night; and the church has neverbeen used since The Virgin, you know, is the special guardian Saint ofthe Rincón family. "

"But you do not believe the story, Rosendo?" Josè asked. 

"_Quien sabe?_" was the noncommittal reply. 

"Do you really think the Virgin could or would do such a thing, Rosendo?"

"Why not, Padre? She has the same power as God, has she not? The framewhich held her picture"--reverting again to the story--"was found outin front of the church the next morning; but the picture itself wasgone. "

Josè glanced down at Carmen, who had been listening with a tense, raptexpression on her face. What impression did this strange story makeupon her? She looked up at the priest with a little laugh. 

"Let us go in, Padre, " she said. 

"No!" commanded Rosendo, seizing her hand. 

"Are you afraid, Rosendo?" queried the amused Josè. 

"I--I would--rather not, " the old man replied hesitatingly. "TheVirgin has sealed it. " Physical danger was temperamental to this nobleson of the jungle; yet the religious superstition which Spain hadbequeathed to this oppressed land still shackled his limbs. 

As they descended the hill Carmen seized an opportunity to speak toJosè alone. "Some day, Padre, " she whispered, "you and I will open thedoor and let the bad angel out, won't we?"

Josè pressed her little hand. He knew that the door of his own mindhad swung wide at her bidding in these few days, and many a bad angelhad gone out forever. 

CHAPTER 6

The dawn of a new day broke white and glistering upon the ancient_pueblo_. From their hard beds of palm, and their straw mats on thedirt floors, the provincial dwellers in this abandoned treasure houseof Old Spain rose already dressed to resume the monotonous routine oftheir lowly life. The duties which confronted them were few, scarceextending beyond the procurement of their simple food. And for all, excepting the two or three families which constituted the shabbyaristocracy of Simití, this was limited in the extreme. Indian corn, _panela_, and coffee, with an occasional addition of _platanos_ orrice, and now and then bits of _bagre_, the coarse fish yielded by theadjacent lake, constituted the staple diet of the average citizen ofthis decayed hamlet. A few might purchase a bit of lard at rareintervals; and this they hoarded like precious jewels. Someoccasionally had wheat flour; but the long, difficult transportation, and its rapid deterioration in that hot, moist climate, where swarmsof voracious insects burrow into everything not cased in tin or iron, made its cost all but prohibitive. A few had goats and chickens. Somepossessed pigs. And the latter even exceeded in value the black, nakedbabes that played in the hot dust of the streets with them. 

Josè was up at dawn. Standing in the warm, unadulterated sunlight inhis doorway he watched the village awaken. At a door across the_plaza_ a woman appeared, smoking a cigar, with the lighted end in hermouth. Josè viewed with astonishment this curious custom whichprevails in the _Tierra Caliente_. He had observed that in Simitínearly everybody of both sexes was addicted to the use of tobacco, andit was no uncommon sight to see children of tender age smoking heavy, black cigars with keen enjoyment. From another door issued twofishermen, who, seeing the priest, approached and asked his blessingon their day's work. Some moments later he heard a loud tattoo, andsoon the Alcalde of the village appeared, marching pompously throughthe streets, preceded by his tall, black secretary, who was beatinglustily upon a small drum. At each street intersection the littleprocession halted, while the Alcalde with great impressivenesssonorously read a proclamation just received from the centralGovernment at Bogotá to the effect that thereafter no cattle might bekilled in the country without the payment of a tax as therein setforth. Groups of _peones_ gathered slowly about the few little storesin the main street, or entered and inspected for the thousandth timethe shabby stocks. Matrons with black, shining faces cheerily greetedone another from their doorways. Everywhere prevailed a gentle decorumof speech and manners. For, however lowly the station, however pinchedthe environment, the dwellers in this ancient town were ever gentle, courteous and dignified. Their conversation dealt with the simpleaffairs of their quiet life. They knew nothing of the complexproblems, social, economic, or religious, which harassed theirbrethren of the North. No dubious aspirations or ambitions stirredtheir breasts. Nothing of the frenzied greed and lust of materialaccumulation touched their child-like minds. They dwelt upon a planefar, far removed, in whatever direction, from the mental state oftheir educated and civilized brothers of the great States, who fromtime to time undertake to advise them how to live, while ruthlesslyexploiting them for material gain. And thus they have been exploitedever since the heavy hand of the Spaniard was laid upon them, fourcenturies ago. Thus they will continue to be, until that distant daywhen mankind shall have learned to find their own in another's good. 

As his eyes swept his environment, the untutored folk, the old church, the dismally decrepit mud houses, with an air of desolation and utterabandon brooding over all; and as he reflected that his own complexnature, rather than any special malice of fortune, had brought this tohim, Josè's heart began to sink under the sting of a condemningconscience. He turned back into his house. Its pitiful emptiness smotehim sore. No books, no pictures, no furnishings, nothing thatministers to the comfort of a civilized and educated man! And yet, amid this barrenness he had resolved to live. 

A song drifted to him through the pulsing heat of the morning air. Itsifted through the mud walls of his poor dwelling, and poured into theopen doorway, where it hovered, quivering, like the dust motes in thesunbeams. Instantly the man righted himself. It was Carmen, the childto whom his life now belonged. Resolutely he again set his wanderingmind toward the great thing he would accomplish--the protection andtraining of this girl, even while, if might be, he found his lifeagain in hers. Nothing on earth should shake him from that purpose!Doubt and uncertainty were powerless to dull the edge of his efforts. His bridges were burned behind him; and on the other side of the greatgulf lay the dead self which he had abandoned forever. 

A harsh medley of loud, angry growls, interspersed with shrill yelps, suddenly arose before his house, and Josè hastened to the door just intime to see Carmen rush into the street and fearlessly throw herselfupon two fighting dogs. 

"Cucumbra! Stop it instantly!" she exclaimed, dragging the angry brutefrom a thoroughly frightened puppy. 

"Shame! shame! And after all I've talked to you about loving thatpuppy!"

The gaunt animal slunk down, with its tail between its legs. 

"Did you ever gain anything at all by fighting? You know you neverdid! And right down in your heart you know you love that puppy. You've_got_ to love him; you can't help it! And you might as well beginright now. "

The beast whimpered at her little bare feet. 

"Cucumbra, you let bad thoughts use you, didn't you? Yes, you did; andyou're sorry for it now. Well, there's the puppy, " pointing to thelittle dog, which stood hesitant some yards away. "Now go and playwith him, " she urged. "Play with him!" rousing the larger dog andpointing toward the puppy. "Play with him! You _know_ you love him!"

Cucumbra hesitated, looking alternately at the small, resolute girland the smaller dog. Her arm remained rigidly extended, anddetermination was written large in her set features. The puppy uttereda sharp bark, as if in forgiveness, and began to scamper playfullyabout. Cucumbra threw a final glance at the girl. 

"Play with him!" she again commanded. 

The large dog bounded after the puppy, and together they disappearedaround the street corner. 

The child turned and saw Josè, who had regarded the scene in muteastonishment. 

"_Muy buenos dias, Señor Padre_, " dropping a little courtesy. "Butisn't Cucumbra foolish to have bad thoughts?"

"Why, yes--he certainly is, " replied Josè slowly, hard pressed by theunusual question. 

"He has just _got_ to love that puppy, or else he will never be happy, will he, Padre?"

Why would this girl persist in ending her statements with aninterrogation! How could he know whether Cucumbra's happiness would beimperfect if he failed in love toward the puppy?

"Because, you know, Padre, " the child continued, coming up to him andslipping her hand into his, "padre Rosendo once told me that God wasLove; and after that I knew we just had to love everything andeverybody, or else He can't see us--can He, Padre?"

He can't see us--if we don't love everything and everybody! Well! Josèwondered what sort of interpretation the Vatican, with its fieryhatred of heretics, would put upon this remark. 

"Can He, Padre?" insisted the girl. 

"Dear child, in these matters you are teaching me; not I you, " repliedthe noncommittal priest. 

"But, Padre, you are going to teach the people in the church, " thegirl ventured quizzically. 

Ah, so he was! And he had wondered what. In his hour of need theanswer was vouchsafed him. 

"Yes, dearest child--and I am going to teach them what I learn from_you_. "

Carmen regarded him for a moment uncertainly. "But, padre Rosendo saysyou are to teach _me_, " she averred. 

"And so I am, little one, " the priest replied; "but not one half asmuch as I shall learn from you. "

Doña Maria's summons to breakfast interrupted the conversation. Throughout the repast Josè felt himself subjected to the closestscrutiny by Carmen. What was running through her thought, he couldonly vaguely surmise. But he instinctively felt that he was beingweighed and appraised by this strange child, and that she was findinghim wanting in her estimate of what manner of man a priest of Godought to be. And yet he knew that she embraced him in her great love. Oftentimes his quick glance at her would find her serious gaze bentupon him. But whenever their eyes met, her sweet face would instantlyrelax and glow with a smile of tenderest love--a love which, he felt, was somehow, in some way, destined to reconstruct his shattered life. 

Josè's plans for educating the girl had gradually evolved intocompletion during the past two days. He explained them at length toRosendo after the morning meal; and the latter, with dilating eyes, manifested his great joy by clasping the priest in his brawny arms. 

"But remember, Rosendo, " Josè said, "learning is not _knowing_. I canonly teach her book-knowledge. But even now, an untutored child, sheknows more that is real than I do. "

"Ah, Padre, have I not told you many times that she is not like us?And now you know it!" exclaimed the emotional Rosendo, his eyessuffused with tears of joy as he beheld his cherished ideals and hislonging of years at last at the point of realization. What he, too, had instinctively seen in the child was now to be summoned forth; andthe vague, half-understood motive which had impelled him to take theabandoned babe from Badillo into the shelter of his own great heartwould at length be revealed. The man's joy was ecstatic. With a finalclasp of the priest's hand, he rushed from the house to plunge intothe work in progress at the church. 

Josè summoned Carmen into the quiet of his own dwelling. She camejoyfully, bringing an ancient and obsolete arithmetic and a muchtattered book, which Josè discovered to be a chronicle of the heroicdeeds of the early _Conquistadores_. 

"I'm through decimals!" she exclaimed with glistening eyes; "and I'veread some of this, but I don't like it, " making a little _moue_ ofdisgust and holding aloft the battered history. 

"Padre Rosendo told me to show it to you, " she continued. "But it isall about murder, you know. And yet, " with a little sigh, "he hasnothing else to read, excepting old newspapers which the steamerssometimes leave at Bodega Central. And they are all about murder, andstealing, and bad things, too. Padre, why don't people write aboutgood things?"

Josè gazed at her reverently, as of old the sculptor Phidias mighthave stood in awe before the vision which he saw in the unchiseledmarble. 

"Padre Rosendo helped me with the fractions, " went on the girl, flitting lightly to another topic; "but I had to learn the decimalsmyself. He couldn't understand them. And they are so easy, aren'tthey? I just love arithmetic!" hugging the old book to her littlebosom. 

Both volumes, printed in Madrid, were reliques of Spanish colonialdays. 

"Read to me, Carmen, " said Josè, handing her the history. 

The child took the book and began to read, with clear enunciation, thenarrative of Quesada's sanguinary expedition to Bogotá, undertaken inthe name of the gentle Christ. Josè wondered as he listened whatinterpretation this fresh young mind would put upon the motives ofthat renowned exploit. Suddenly she snapped the book shut. 

"Tell me about Jesus, " she demanded. 

The precipitation with which the question had been propounded almosttook his breath away. He raised his eyes to hers, and looked long andwonderingly into their infinite depths. And then the vastness of theproblem enunciated by her demand loomed before him. What, after all, did he know about Jesus? Had he not arrived in Simití in a state ofagnosticism regarding religion? Had he not come there enveloped inconfusion, baffled, beaten, hopeless? And then, after his wonderfultalk with Rosendo, had he not agreed with him that the child's thoughtmust be kept free and open--that her own instinctive religious ideasmust be allowed to develop normally, unhampered and unfettered by theexternal warp and bias of human speculation? It was part of his planthat all reference to matters theological should be omitted fromCarmen's educational scheme. Yet here was that name on her lips--thefirst time he had ever heard it voiced by her. And it smote him like ahammer. He made haste to divert further inquiry. 

"Not now, little one, " he said hastily. "I want to hear you read morefrom your book. "

"No, " she replied firmly, laying the volume upon the table. "I don'tlike it; and I shouldn't think you would, either. Besides, it isn'ttrue; it never really happened. "

"Why, of course it is true, child! It is history, the story of how thebrave Spaniards came into this country long ago. We will read a greatdeal more about them later. "

"No, " with a decisive shake of her brown head; "not if it is likethis. It isn't true; I told padre Rosendo it wasn't. "

"Well, what do you mean, child?" asked the uncomprehending priest. 

"It is only a lot of bad thoughts printed in a book, " she repliedslowly. "And it isn't true, because God is _everywhere_. "

Clearly the man was encountering difficulties at the outset; and apart, at least, of his well-ordered curriculum stood in grave dangerof repudiation at the hands of this earnest little maid. 

The girl stood looking at him wistfully. Then her sober little facemelted in smiles. With childish impulsiveness she clambered into hislap, and twining her arms about his neck, impressed a kiss upon hischeek. 

"I love you, Padre, " she murmured; "and you love me, don't you?"

He pressed her to him, startled though he was. "God knows I do, littleone!" he exclaimed. 

"Of course He does, " she eagerly agreed; "and He knows you don't wantto teach me anything that isn't true, doesn't He, Padre dear?"

Yea, and more; for Josè was realizing now, what he had not seenbefore, that _it was beyond his power to teach her that which was nottrue_. The magnitude and sacredness of his task impressed him as neverbefore. His puzzled brain grappled feebly with the enormous problem. She had rebuked him for trying to teach her things which, if heaccepted the immanence of God as fact, her logic had shown him wereutterly false. Clearly the grooves in which this child's pure thoughtran were not his own. And if she would not think as he did, whatrecourse was there left him but to accept the alternative and thinkwith her? For he would not, even if he could, force upon her his ownthought-processes. 

"Then, Carmen, " he finally ventured, "you do not wish to learn aboutpeople and what they have done and are doing in the big world aboutyou?"

"Oh, yes, Padre; tell me all about the good things they did!"

"But they did many wicked things too, _chiquita_. And the good and thebad are all mixed up together. "

"No, " she shook her head vigorously; "there isn't any bad. There isonly good, for God is everywhere--isn't He?"

She raised up and looked squarely into the priest's eyes. Dissimulation, hypocrisy, quibble, cant--nothing but fearless truth could meet thatgaze. 

Suddenly a light broke in upon his clouded thought. This girl--thistender plant of God--why, she had shown it from the very beginning!And he, oh, blind that he was! he could not see nor accept it. Thesecret of her power, of her ecstasy of life--what was it butthis?--_she knew no evil!_

And the Lord God commanded the man, saying, "Of every tree of thegarden thou mayest freely eat: but of the tree of the knowledge ofgood and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thoueatest thereof thou shalt surely die. "

Oh, great God! It was the first--the very first--lesson which Thoudidst teach Thy child, Israel, as the curtain rose upon the drama ofhuman life! And the awful warning has rung down through the corridorsof time from the mouths of the prophets, whom we slew lest they wakeus from our mesmeric sleep! Israel forgot Thy words; and the world hasforgotten them, long, long since. Daily we mix our perfumed draft ofgood and evil, and sink under its lethal influence! Hourly we eat ofthe forbidden tree, till the pangs of death encompass us!

And when at last the dark angel hovered over the sin-stricken earthand claimed it for his own, the great Master came to sound again thewarning--"As a man thinketh in his heart, _so is he_!" But they wouldhave none of him, and nailed him to a tree!

Oh, Jerusalem! Oh, ye incarnate human mind! Even the unique Son of Godwept as he looked with yearning upon you! Why? Because of yourstubborn clinging to false ways, false beliefs, false thoughts of Godand man! Because ye would not be healed; ye would not be made whole!Ye loved evil--ye gave it life and power, and ye rolled it like asweet morsel beneath your tongue--and so ye died! So came death intothis fair world, through the heart, the brain, the mind of man, _whosought to know what God could not_!

"Padre dear, you are so quiet. " The girl nestled closer to the awedpriest. Aye! And so the multitude on Sinai had stood in awed quiet asthey listened to the voice of God. 

This child knew no evil! The man could not grasp the infiniteimport of the marvelous fact. And yet he had sought to teach herfalsities--to teach her that evil did exist, as real and as potentas good, and that it was to be accepted and honored by mankind! Butshe had turned her back upon the temptation. 

"Padre, are you going to tell me about Jesus?"

The priest roused from his deep meditation. 

"Yes, yes--I want to know nothing else! I will get my Bible, and wewill read about him!"

"Bible? What is that, Padre dear?"

"What! You don't know what the Bible is?" cried the astonishedpriest. 

"No, Padre. "

"But have you never--has your padre Rosendo never told you that it isthe book that tells--?"

"No, " the girl shook her head. "But, " her face kindling, "he told methat Jesus was God's only son. But we are all His children, aren'twe?"

"Yes--especially you, little one! But Jesus was the greatest--"

"Did Jesus write the Bible, Padre?" the girl asked earnestly. 

"No--we don't know who did. People used to think God wrote it; but Iguess He didn't. "

"Then we will not read it, Padre. "

The man bent reverently over the little brown head and prayed againfor guidance. What could he do with this child, who dwelt withJehovah--who saw His reflection in every flower and hill and fleecycloud--who heard His voice in the sough of the wind, and the ripple ofthe waters on the pebbly shore! And, oh, that some one had bent overhim and prayed for guidance when he was a tender lad and his heartburned with yearning for truth!

"God wrote the arithmetic--I mean, He told people how to write it, didn't He, Padre?"

Surely the priest could acquiesce in this, for mathematics is purelymetaphysical, and without guile. 

"Yes, _chiquita_. And we will go right through this little book. Then, if I can, I will send for others that will teach you wonderful thingsabout what we call mathematics. "

The child smiled her approval. The priest had now found the only pathwhich she would tread with him, and he continued with enthusiasm. 

"And God taught people how to talk, little one; but they don't alltalk as we do. There is a great land up north of us, which we call theUnited States, and there the people would not understand us, for wespeak Spanish. I must teach you their language, _chiquita_, and I mustteach you others, too, for you will not always live in Simití. "

"I want to stay here always, Padre. I love Simití. " "No, Carmen; Godhas work for you out in His big world. You have something to tell Hispeople some day, a message for them. But you and I have much work todo here first. And so we will begin with the arithmetic and English. Later we will study other languages, and we will talk them to eachother until you speak them as fluently as your own. And meanwhile, Iwill tell you about the great countries of the world, and about thepeople that live in them. And we will study about the stars, and therocks, and the animals; and we will read and work and read and workall day long, every day!" The priest's face was aglow with animation. 

"But, Padre, when shall I have time to think?"

"Why, you will be thinking all the time, child!"

"No, you don't understand. I have to think about other things. "

Josè looked at her with a puzzled expression. "What other things doyou have to think about, _chiquita_?"

"About all the people here who are sick and unhappy, and who quarreland don't love one another. "

"Do you think about people when they are sick?" he asked withheightened curiosity. 

"Yes, always!" she replied vigorously "When they are sick I go wherenobody can find me and then just think that it isn't so. "

"_Hombre!_" the priest ejaculated, his astonishment soaring Then--

"But when people are sick it is really so, isn't it, _chiquita_?"

"No!" emphatically. "It can't be--not if God is everywhere. Does Hemake them sick?" The child drove the heart-searching question straightinto him. 

"Why--no, I can't say that He does. And yet they somehow get sick. "

"Because they think bad things, Padre. Because they don't think aboutGod. They don't think He is here. And they don't care about Him--theydon't love Him. And so they get sick, " she explained succinctly. 

Josè's mind reverted to what Rosendo had told him. When he lay tossingin delirium Carmen had said that he would not die. And yet that wasperfectly logical, if she refused to admit the existence of evil. 

"I thought lots about you last week, Padre. "

The soft voice was close to his ear, and every breath swept over hisheartstrings and made them vibrate. 

"Every night when I went to sleep I told God I _knew_ He would cureyou. "

The priest's head sank upon his breast. 

Verily, I have not seen such faith, no, not in Israel! And the faithof this child had glorified her vision until she saw "the heavens openand the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man. "

"Carmen"--the priest spoke reverently--"do the sick ones always getwell when you think about them?"

There was not a shade of euphemism in the unhesitating reply--

"They are never really sick, Padre. "

"But, by that you mean--"

"They only have bad thoughts. "

"Sick thoughts, then?" he suggested by way of drawing out her fullmeaning. 

"Yes, Padre--for God, you know, really _is_ everywhere. "

"Carmen!" cried the man. "What put such ideas into your little head?Who told you these things?"

Her brown eyes looked full into his own. "God, Padre dear. "

God! Yes, of a verity she spoke truth. For nothing but her constantcommunion with Him could have filled her pure thought with a deeper, truer lore than man has ever quaffed at the world's great fountains oflearning. He himself, trained by Holy Church, deeply versed inletters, science, and theology, grounded in all human learning, sat inhumility at her feet, drinking in what his heart told him he had atlength found--Truth. 

He had one more question to ask. "Carmen, how do you know, how are yousure, that He told you?"

"Because it is true, Padre. "

"But just how do you know that it is true?" he insisted. 

"Why--it comes out that way; just like the answers to the problems inarithmetic. I used to try to see if by thinking only good thoughtsto-day I would be better and happier to-morrow. "

"Yes, and--?"

"Well, I always was, Padre. And so now I don't think anything but goodthoughts. "

"That is, you think only about God?"

"I always think about Him _first_, Padre. "

He had no further need to question her proofs, for he knew she wastaught by the Master himself. 

"That will be all for this morning, Carmen, " he said quietly, as heput her down. "Leave me now. I, too, have some thinking to do. "

When Carmen left him, Josè lapsed into profound meditation. Musingover his life experiences, he at last summed them all up in the vainattempt to evolve an acceptable concept of God, an idea of Him thatwould satisfy. He had felt that in Christianity he had hold ofsomething beneficent, something real; but he had never been able toformulate it, nor lift it above the shadows into the clear lightof full comprehension. And the result of his futile efforts to thisend had been agnosticism. His inability conscientiously to acceptthe mad reasoning of theologians and the impudent claims of Rome hadbeen the stumbling block to his own and his family's dearest earthlyhopes. He knew that popular Christianity was a disfigurement of truth. He knew that the theological claptrap which the Church, with suchoracular assurance, such indubitable certainty and gross assumptionof superhuman knowledge, handed out to a suffering world, was atravesty of the divinely simple teachings of Jesus, and that it hadestranged mankind from their only visible source of salvation, theBible. He saw more clearly than ever before that in the actualachievements of popular theology there had been ridiculously littlethat a seriously-minded man could accept as supports to its claimsto be a divinely revealed scheme of salvation. Yet there was novital question on which certainty was so little demanded, andseemingly of so little consequence, as this, even though thejoints of the theologians' armor flapped wide to the assaults ofunprejudiced criticism. 

But if the slate were swept clean--if current theological dogma wereoverthrown, and the stage set anew--what could be reared in theirstead? Is it true that the Bible is based upon propositions which canbe verified by all? The explorer in Cartagena had given Josè a newthought in Arnold's concept of God as "the Eternal, not ourselves, that makes for righteousness. " And it was not to be denied that, fromfirst to last, the Bible is a call to righteousness. 

But what is righteousness? Ethical conduct? Assuredly something vastlymore profound, for even that "misses the mark. " No, righteousness wasright conduct until the marvelous Jesus appeared. But he swept it atonce from the material into the mental; from the outward into theinward; and defined it as _right-thinking_!

"Righteousness!" murmured Josè, sitting with head buried in his hands. "Aye, the whole scheme of salvation is held in that one word! And thewreck of my life has been caused by my blind ignorance of itstremendous meaning! For righteousness is salvation. But Carmen, wiselittle soul, divined it instinctively; for, if there is one thing thatis patent, it is that if a thing is evil it does not exist for her. Righteousness! Of course it means _thinking no evil_! Jesus lived histhorough understanding of it. And so does Carmen. And so would theworld, but for the withering influence of priestly authority!"

At that moment Carmen reappeared to summon him to lunch. 

"Come here, little girl, " said Josè, drawing her to him. "You asked meto tell you about Jesus. He was the greatest and best man that everlived. And it was because he never had a bad thought. "

"Did he know that God was everywhere?" The little face turned lovinglyup to his. 

"He did, sweet child. And so do I--now; for I have found Him even indesolate Simití. "

CHAPTER 7

Carmen's studies began in earnest that afternoon. In the quiet of hishumble cottage Josè, now "a prisoner of the Lord, " opened the door ofhis mental storehouse and carefully selected those first bits ofknowledge for the foundation stones on which to rear for her, littleby little, a broad education. 

He found her a facile learner; her thorough ease in the rudimentsof arithmetic and in the handling of her own language delighted him. His plan of tutelage, although the result of long contemplation, andinvolving many radical ideas regarding the training of children, ideas which had been slowly developing in his mind for years, henevertheless felt in her case to be tentative. For he was dealingwith no ordinary child; and so the usual methods of instruction werehere wholly out of the question. 

But on several points he was already firmly resolved. First, he wouldget well below the surface of this child's mind, and he would endeavorto train her to live in a depth of thought far, far beneath the frothand superficiality of the every-day thinking of mankind. Fortunately, she had had no previous bad training to be counteracted now. Naturehad been her only tutor; and Rosendo's canny wisdom had kept out allhuman interference. Her associates in Simití were few. Her unusual andmature thought had set up an intellectual barrier between herself andthe playmates she might have had. Fortunately, too, Josè had now todeal with a child who all her life had thought vigorously--and, he wasforced to conclude, correctly. Habits of accurate observation andquick and correct interpretation would not be difficult to form insuch a mind. Moreover, to this end he would aim to maintain herinterest at the point of intensity in every subject undertaken; yetwithout forcing, and without sacrifice of the joys of childhood. Hewould be, not teacher only, but fellow-student. He would strive tolearn with her to conceive the ideal without losing sight of the factthat it was a human world in which they dwelt. When she wished toplay, he would play with her. But he would contrive and direct theiramusements so as to carry instruction, to elucidate and exemplify it, to point morals, and steadily to contribute to her store of knowledge. His plan was ideal, he knew. But he could not know then thatNature--if we may thus call it--had anticipated him, and that thechild, long since started upon the quest for truth, would quicklyoutstrip him in the matter of conceiving the ideal and living in thisworld of relative fact with an eye single to the truth which shines sodimly through it. 

Josè knew, as he studied Carmen and planned her training, thatwhatever instruction he offered her must be without taint of evil, sofar as he might prevent. And yet, the thought of any attempt towithhold from her a knowledge of evil brought a sardonic smile to hislips. She had as yet everything to learn of the world about her. Couldsuch learning be imparted to her free from error or hypothesis, andapart from the fiat of the speculative human mind? It must be; for heknew from experience that she would accept his teaching only as hepresented every apparent fact, every object, every event, as areflection in some degree of her immanent God, and subject to rigiddemonstration. Where historical events externalized only the evilmotives of the carnal mind, he must contrive to omit them entirely, orelse present them as unreality, the result of "bad thoughts" andforgetfulness of God. In other words, only as he assumed to be thechannel through which God spoke to her could he hope for success. Toimpart to her a knowledge of both good and evil was, at least atpresent, impossible. To force it upon her later would be criminal. Moreover, _why not try the audacious experiment of permitting andaiding this child to grow up without a knowledge of evil_?--that is, in her present conviction that only good is real, potent andpermanent, while evil is impotent illusion and to be met and overcomeon that basis. Would the resultant training make of her a tower ofstrength--or would it render her incapable of resisting the onslaughtsof evil when at length she faced the world? His own heart sanctionedthe plan; and--well, the final judgment should be left to Carmenherself. 

The work proceeded joyously. At times Cucumbra interrupted by boundingin, as if impatient of the attention his little mistress was givingher tutor. Frequently the inquisitive Cantar-las-horas stalked throughthe room, displaying a most dignified and laudable interest in theproceedings. Late in the afternoon, when the sun was low, Bosendoappeared at the door. As he stood listening to Josè's narrative of menand places in the outside world, his eyes bulged. At length hisuntutored mind became strained to its elastic limit. 

"Is that true, Padre?" he could not refrain from interrupting, whenJosè had spoken of the fast trains of England. "Why, the Simití trailto Tachí is one hundred and fifty miles long; and it always took mesix days to walk it. And do you say there are trains that travel thatdistance in as many hours?"

"There are trains, Rosendo, that traverse the distance in threehours. "

"_Na_, Padre, it can't be done!" cried the incredulous Rosendo, shaking his head. 

"Leave us, unbeliever!" laughed Josè, motioning him away. "I have morepliable material here to handle than you. "

But Rosendo remained; and it was evident to the priest that he hadcome on an errand of importance. Moreover, the supper hour was athand, and perhaps Doña Maria needed Carmen's help. So, dismissing thechild, Josè turned to Rosendo. 

"You were right, " he began, as if taking up the thread of a brokendiscourse. "Carmen _was_ left on the river bank by the angels. "

"Then you do think it was a miracle!" said Rosendo in a voice of awe, as he sank into a chair. 

The priest smiled. "Everything is a miracle, friend; for a miracle issimply a sign of God's presence. And finding Carmen in this musty, forgotten place is one of the greatest. For where she is, He is. "

"Yes, Padre, that is true, " assented Rosendo gravely. 

"I was led here, " continued Josè; "I see it now. Rosendo, all my lifeI have regarded evil as just as real and powerful as good. And my lifehas been one of bitterness and woe. Carmen sees only the good Godeverywhere. And she dwells in heaven. What is the logical inference?Simply that my mental attitude has been all wrong, my views erroneous, my thinking bad. I have tried to know both good and evil, to eat ofthe forbidden tree. And for so doing I was banished from paradise. Doyou understand me?"

"Why--well, no, Padre--that is, I--" The honest fellow was becomingconfused. 

"Well, just this, then, " explained the priest with animation. "Ihaven't gotten anywhere in life, and neither have you, because we havelimited ourselves and crippled our efforts by yielding to fear, pride, ignorance, and the belief in evil as a real power opposed to good. "

"I have often wondered myself, Padre, how there could be a devil ifGod is almighty. For in that case He would have had to make the devil, wouldn't He?"

"Just so!" cried Josè enthusiastically. "And as He did makeeverything, then either He made the devil, or else there isn't any. "

"But that is pretty hard to see, Padre, " replied the puzzled Rosendo. "Something makes us do wicked things. "

"Simply the belief that there is a power apart from God. "

"But doesn't that belief come from the devil?"

"Surely--the devil of imagination! Listen, Rosendo: Carmen is dailyputting into practice her instinctive knowledge of a mighty fact. Shewill reveal it all to us in due time. Let us patiently watch her, andtry to see and understand and believe as she does. But in themeantime, let us guard our minds as we would a treasure house, andstrive never to let a thought of evil get inside! My past life shouldserve as a perpetual warning. "

Rosendo did not reply at once, but sat staring vacantly at the ground. Josè knew that his thoughts were with his wayward daughter. Then, asif suddenly remembering the object of his call, he took from hiswallet two letters, which he handed to Josè with the comment: "Juanbrought them up from Bodega Central this morning. "

Josè took them with quickening pulse. One was from Spain, from hisuncle. He devoured it eagerly. It was six weeks old when it arrived inSimití, and had been written before the news of his removal fromCartagena had reached Seville. His mother was well; and her hopes forher son's preferment were steadily reviving, after the cruel blowwhich his disgrace in Rome had given them. For his uncle's part, hehoped that Josè had now seen the futility of opposition to HolyChurch, and that, yielding humbly to her gentle chastisement for thegreat injury he had inflicted upon her, he would now make amends andmerit the favors which she was sure to bestow upon him in due season. To this end the uncle would bring to bear his own influence and thatof His Eminence, the Archbishop of Seville. The letter closed with aninvocation to the Saints and the ever-blessed Virgin. 

Josè opened the second letter. It was nominally from the Bishop ofCartagena, although written, he well knew, by Wenceslas. His Reverenceregretted that Josè had not come to him again before leavingCartagena. He deplored exceedingly the necessity of assigning him toso lowly a parish; but it was discipline. His tenure of the parishwould be a matter of probation. Assuming a penitent desire on the partof the priest to make reparation for past indiscretions, His Graceextended assurances of his support and tender consideration. And, regarding him still as a faithful son, he was setting forth herewithcertain instructions which Josè would zealously carry out, to theglory of the sacred Mother Church and the blessed Virgin, and to hisown edification, to wit: In the matter of the confessional he must beunremittingly zealous, not failing to put such questions to the peopleof Simití as would draw out their most secret thoughts. In the presentcrisis it was especially necessary to learn their political views. Likewise, he must not fail to impress upon them the sin of concealingwealth, and of withholding contributions to the support of theglorious Mother. He, as priest of the parish, would be held personallyresponsible for the collection of an adequate "Peter's Pence, " whichmust be sent to Cartagena at frequent intervals for subsequentshipment to Rome. For all contributions he was to allow liberalplenary indulgences. In the matter of inciting zeal for the salvationof those unfortunate souls lingering in the torments of purgatory, Josè must be unflagging. Each family in the parish should beconstantly admonished and threatened, if necessary, to have Massessaid for their deceased members; and he must forward the proceeds fromsuch Masses at once to Cartagena. No less important, he must keepconstantly before him the great fact that the hope of the blessedMother lay in her young. To this end he must see that all children inhis parish were in due time confirmed, and every effort made to havethe females sent to the convent of Mompox. To encourage hisparishioners, he might assure them of His Reverence's tender regardfor them as his beloved children, and that he had certain specialfavors to grant to them in due time. Also, that a statue of theVirgin, which had arrived from Rome, and which carried the most potentblessing of the Holy Father, was to be bestowed upon that church inthe diocese which within the next twelve months should contribute thelargest amount of Peter's Pence in proportion to population. This planshould be especially attractive to the people of Simití, as the townlay on the confines of a district renowned in the ancient annals forits mineral wealth. Herein, too, lay a great opportunity for thepriest; and His Reverence rejoiced in the certain knowledge that hewould embrace it. Invoking the Sacred Heart of Jesus and theEver-Blessed Virgin and Saint Joseph, His Grace awaited with interestthe priest's first report from the parish of Simití. 

The letter fell like a wet blanket upon Josè, chilling him to themarrow, for it revived with cruel poignancy the fact that he was stilla servant of Rome. In the past few happy days he had dwelt apart fromthe world in the consciousness of a new heaven and a new earth, revealed by Carmen. This sudden call to duty was like a summons fromMephistopheles to the fulfillment of a forgotten pact. 

He carefully read the letter again. Beneath the specious kindliness ofWenceslas lay sinister motives, he knew. Among them, greed, of course. But--a darker thought--did Wenceslas know of Carmen's existence? CouldCartagena have received any intimation of his plans for her? Refusalto comply with these instructions meant--he dared not think what! Onthe other hand, strict compliance with them certainly was out of thequestion. 

As for Peter's Pence, what could the impoverished folk of thisdecrepit town furnish! And yet, if a reasonable sum could only becontributed at frequent intervals, would not the vampire Wenceslasrest content, at least for a while? Oh, for a fortune of his own, thathe might dump it all into the yawning maw of Holy Church, and thusgain a few years' respite for himself and Carmen!

"Bad news, Padre?" Rosendo inquired, anxiously regarding the priest'sstrained features. 

What could the man do or say, limited, hounded, and without resources?Could he force these simple people to buy Masses? Could he take theirmoney on a pretext which he felt to be utterly false? Yet Cartagena_must_ be kept quiet at any hazard!

"Rosendo, " he asked earnestly, "when you had a priest in Simití, didthe people have Masses offered for their dead?"

"_Na_, Padre, we have little money for Masses, " replied Rosendosadly. 

"But you have bought them?"

"At times--long ago--for my first wife, when she died without apriest, up in the Tiguí country. But not when Padre Diego was here. Icouldn't see how Masses said by that drunken priest could please God, or make Him release souls from purgatory--and Padre Diego was drunkmost of the time. "

Josè became desperate. "Rosendo, we _must_ send money to the Bishop inCartagena. I _must_ stay here--I _must_! And I can stay only bysatisfying Wenceslas! If I can send him money he will think me toovaluable to remove. It is not the Church, Rosendo, but Wenceslas whois persecuting me. It is he who has placed me here. He is using theChurch for his own evil ends. It is he who must be placated. But I--Ican't make these poor people buy Masses! And--but here, read hisletter, " thrusting it into Rosendo's hand. 

Rosendo shook his head thoughtfully, and a cloud had gathered over hisstrong face when he returned the Bishop's letter to Josè. 

"Padre, we will be hard pressed to support the church and you, withoutbuying Masses. There are about two hundred people here, perhaps fiftyfamilies. But they are very, very poor. Only a few can afford to payeven a _peso oro_ a month to the schoolmaster to have their childrentaught. They may be able to give twenty _pesos_ a month to support youand the church. But hardly more. "

It seemed to Josè that his soul must burst under its limitations. 

"Rosendo, let us take Carmen and flee!" he cried wildly. 

"How far would we get, Padre? Have you money?"

No, Josè had nothing. He lapsed into silence-shrouded despair. 

The sun dropped below the wooded hills, and Cantar-las-horas had sunghis weird vesper song. Dusk was thickening into night, though upon thedistant _Sierras_ a mellow glow still illumined the frosted peaks. Moments crept slowly through the enveloping silence. 

Then the mental gloom parted, and through it arose the great soul ofthe black-faced man sitting beside the despairing priest. 

"Padre"--Rosendo spoke slowly and with deep emotion. Tears trickleddown his swart cheeks--"I am no longer young. More than sixty years ofhardship and heavy toil rest upon me. My parents--I have not told youthis--were slaves. They worked in the mines of Guamocó, under hardmasters. They lived in bamboo huts, and slept on the damp ground. Atfour each morning, year after year, they were driven from their hardbeds and sent out to toil under the lash fourteen hours a day, washinggold from the streams. The gold went to the building of Cartagena'swalls, and to her Bishop, to buy idleness and luxury for him and hisfat priests. When the war came it lasted thirteen years; but we drovethe Christian Spaniards into the sea! Then my father and mother wentback to Guamocó; and there I was born. When I was old enough to use a_batea_ I, too, washed gold in the Tiguí, and in the little streams sonumerous in that region. But they had been pretty well washed outunder the Spaniards; and so my father came down here and made a little_hacienda_ on the hills across the lake from Simití. Then he and mypoor mother lay down and died, worn out with their long years of toilfor their cruel masters. "

He brushed the tears from his eyes; then resumed: "The district ofGuamocó gradually became deserted. Revolution after revolution brokeout in this unhappy country, sometimes stirred up by the priests, sometimes by political agitators who tried to get control of theGovernment. The men and boys went to the wars, and were killed off. Guamocó was again swallowed up by the forest--"

He stopped abruptly, and sat some moments silent. 

"I have been back there many times since, and often I have washed goldagain along the beautiful Tiguí, " he continued. "But the awfulloneliness of the jungle, and the memories of those gloomy days when Itoiled there as a boy, and the thoughts of my poor parents' sufferingsunder the Spaniards, made me so sad that I could not stay. And then Igot too old for that kind of work, standing bent over in the coldmountain water all day long, swinging a _batea_ heavy with gravel. "

He paused again, and seemed to lose himself in the memory of thosedark days. 

"But there is still gold in the Tiguí. I can find it. It means hardwork--but I can do it. Padre, I will go back there and wash out goldfor you to send to the Bishop of Cartagena, that you may stay here andprotect and teach the little Carmen. Perhaps in time I can wash enoughto get you both out of the country; but it will take many months, itmay be, years. "

O, you, whose path in life winds among pleasant places, where rosesnod in the scented breeze and fountains play, picture to yourself, ifyou may, the self-immolation of this sweet-souled man, who, in thewinter of life, the shadows of eternity fast gathering about him, bends his black shoulders again to the burden which Love would layupon them. Aye, Love, into which all else merged--Love for the unknownbabe, left helpless and alone on the great river's bank--Love for theradiant child, whose white soul the agents of carnal greed and lustwould prostitute to their iniquitous system. 

Night fell. By the light of their single candle the priest and Rosendoate their simple fare in silence. Carmen was asleep, and the angelswatched over her lowly bed. 

The meal ended, Rosendo took up the candle, and Josè followed him intothe bedroom. Reverently the two men approached the sleeping child andlooked down upon her. The priest's hand again sought Rosendo's in agrasp which sealed anew the pact between them. 

CHAPTER 8

Like the great Exemplar in the days of his preparation, Josè wasearly driven by the spirit into the wilderness, where temptationsmote him sore. But his soul had been saved--"yet so as by fire. "Slowly old beliefs and faiths crumbled into dust, while the newremained still unrevealed. The drift toward atheism which had set induring his long incarceration in the convent of Palazzola had notmade him yield to the temptation to raise the mask of hypocrisy andplunge into the pleasures of the world, nor accept the speciousproffer of ecclesiastical preferment in exchange for his honestconvictions. Honor, however bigoted the sense, bound him to hisoath, or at least to a compromising observance of it harmless to theChurch. Pride contributed to hold him from the degradation of arenegade and apostate priest. And both rested primarily on anunshaken basis of maternal affection, which fell little short ofobsession, leaving him without the strength to say, "Woman, whathave I to do with thee?"

But, though atheism in belief leads almost inevitably to disintegrationof morals, Josè had kept himself untainted. For his vital problems hehad now, after many days, found "grace sufficient. " In what he hadregarded as the contemptible tricks of fate, he was beginning todiscern the guiding hand of a wisdom greater than the world's. Thedanger threatened by Cartagena was, temporarily, at least, avertedby Rosendo's magnificent spirit. Under the spur of that sacrifice hisown courage rose mightily to second it. 

Rosendo spent the day in preparation for his journey into the Guamocócountry. He had discussed with Josè, long and earnestly, its probableeffect upon the people of Simití, and especially upon Don Mario, theAlcalde; but it was decided that no further explanation should be madethan that he was again going to prospect in the mineral districtsalready so familiar to him. As Rosendo had said, this venture, together with the unannounced and unsolicited presence of the priestin the town, could not but excite extreme curiosity and raise the mostlively conjectures, which might, in time, reach Wenceslas. On theother hand, if success attended his efforts, it was more than probablethat Cartagena would remain quiet, as long as her itching palm wasbrightened with the yellow metal which he hoped to wrest from thesands of Guamocó. "It is only a chance, Padre, " Rosendo saiddubiously. "In the days of the Spaniards the river sands of Guamocóproduced from two to ten _reales_ a day to each slave. But the rivershave been almost washed out. "

Josè made a quick mental calculation. A Spanish _real_ was equivalentto half a franc. Then ten _reales_ would amount to five francs, thevery best he could hope for as a day's yield. 

"And my supplies and the support of the señora and Carmen must comeout of that, " Rosendo added. "Besides, I must pay Juan for working the_hacienda_ across the lake for me while I am away. "

Possibly ten _pesos oro_, or forty francs, might remain at the end ofeach month for them to send to Cartagena. Josè sighed heavily as hebusied himself with the preparations. 

"I got these supplies from Don Mario on credit, Padre, " explainedRosendo. "I thought best to buy from him to prevent making him angry. I have coffee, _panela_, rice, beans, and tobacco for a month. He wasvery willing to let me have them--but do you know why? He wants me togo up there and fail. Then he will have me in his debt, and I becomehis _peon_--and I would never be anything after that but his slave, for never again would he let me get out of debt to him. "

Josè shuddered at the thought of the awful system of peonage prevalentin these Latin countries, an inhuman custom only a degree removed fromthe slavery of colonial times. This venture was, without doubt, adesperate risk. But it was for Carmen--and its expediency could not bequestioned. 

Josè penned a letter to the Bishop of Cartagena that morning, andsent it by Juan to Bodega Central to await the next down-riversteamer. He did not know that Juan carried another letter for theBishop, and addressed in the flowing hand of the Alcalde. Josèbriefly acknowledged the Bishop's communication, and replied that hewould labor unflaggingly to uplift his people and further theirspiritual development. As to the Bishop's instructions, he wouldendeavor to make Simití's contribution to the support of HolyChurch, both material and spiritual, fully commensurate with thepopulation. He did not touch on the other instructions, but closedwith fervent assurances of his intention to serve his little flockwith an undivided heart. Carmen received no lesson that day, andher rapidly flowing questions anent the unusual activity in thehousehold were met with the single explanation that her padreRosendo had found it necessary to go up to the Tiguí river, ajourney which some day she might perhaps take with him. 

During the afternoon Josè wrote two more letters, one to his uncle, briefly announcing his appointment to the parish of Simití, and hisalready lively interest in his new field; the other to his belovedmother, in which he only hinted at the new-found hope which served ashis pillow at night. He did not mention Carmen, for fear that hisletter might be opened ere it left Cartagena. But in tenderestexpressions of affection, and regret that he had been the unwittingcause of his mother's sorrow, he begged her to believe that his lifehad received a stimulus which could not but result in great happinessfor them both, for he was convinced that he had at last found his_métier_, even though among a lowly people and in a sequestered partof the world. He hoped again to be reunited to her--possibly she mightsome day meet him in Cartagena. And until then he would always holdher in tenderest love and the brightest and purest thought. 

He brushed aside the tears as he folded this letter; and, lest regretand self-condemnation seize him again, hurried forth in search ofCarmen, whose radiance always dispelled his gloom as the rushing dawnshatters the night. 

She was not in Rosendo's house, and Doña Maria said she had seen thechild some time before going in the direction of the "shales. " Thesewere broad beds of rock to the south of town, much broken and deeplyfissured, and so glaringly hot during most of the day as to beimpassable. Thither Josè bent his steps, and at length came upon thegirl sitting in the shade of a stunted _algarroba_ tree some distancefrom the usual trail. 

"Well, what are you doing here, little one?" he inquired in surprise. 

The child looked up visibly embarrassed. "I was thinking, Padre, " shemade slow reply. 

"But do you have to go away from home to think?" he queried. 

"I wanted to be alone; and there was so much going on in the housethat I came out here. "

"And what have you been thinking about, Carmen?" pursued Josè, suspecting that her presence in the hot shale beds held some deepersignificance than she had as yet revealed. 

"I--I was just thinking that God is everywhere, " she faltered. 

"Yes, _chiquita_. And--?"

"That He is where padre Rosendo is going, and that He will take careof him up there, and bring him back to Simití again. "

"And were you asking Him to do it, little one?"

"No, Padre; I was just _knowing_ that He would. "

The little lip quivered, and the brown eyes were wet with tears. ButJosè could see that faith had conquered, whatever the struggle mighthave been. The child evidently had sought solitude, that she mightmost forcibly bring her trust in God to bear upon the little problemconfronting her--that she might make the certainty of His immanenceand goodness destroy in her thought every dark suggestion of fear ordoubt. 

"God will take care of him, won't He, Padre?"

Josè had taken her hand and was leading her back to the house. 

"You have said it, child; and I believe you are a law unto yourself, "was the priest's low, earnest reply. The child smiled up at him; andJosè knew he had spoken truth. 

That evening, the preparations for departure completed, Rosendo andJosè took their chairs out before the house, where they sat late, eachloath to separate lest some final word be left unsaid. The tepidevening melted into night, which died away in a deep silence that hungwraith-like over the old town. Myriad stars rained their shimmeringlustre out of the unfathomable vault above. 

"_Un canasto de flores_, " mused Rosendo, looking off into the infiniteblue. 

"A basket of flowers, indeed, " responded Josè reverently. 

"Padre--" Rosendo's brain seemed to struggle with a tremendousthought--"I often try to think of what is beyond the stars; and Icannot. Where is the end?"

"There is none, Rosendo. "

"But, if we could get out to the last star--what then?"

"Still no end, no limit, " replied Josè. 

"And they are very far away--how far, Padre?"

"You would not comprehend, even if I could tell you, Rosendo. But--howshall I say it? Some are millions of miles from us. Others so far thattheir light reaches us only after the lapse of centuries. "

"Their light!" returned Rosendo quizzically. 

"Yes. Light from those stars above us travels nearly two hundredthousand miles a second--"

"_Hombre!_" ejaculated the uncomprehending Rosendo. 

"And yet, even at that awful rate of speed, it is probable that thereare many stars whose light has not yet reached the earth since itbecame inhabited by men. "

"_Caramba!_"

"You may well say so, friend. "

"But, Padre--does the light never stop? When does it reach an end--astopping-place?"

"There is no stopping-place, Rosendo. There is no solid sky above us. Go whichever way you will, you can never reach an end. "

Rosendo's brow knotted with puzzled wonder: Even Josè's own mindstaggered anew at its concept of the immeasurable depths of space. 

"But, Padre, if we could go far enough up we would get to heaven, wouldn't we?" pursued Rosendo. "And if we went far enough down wewould reach purgatory, and then hell, is it not so?"

Restraint fell upon the priest. He dared not answer lest he reveal hisown paucity of ideas regarding these things. Happily the loquaciousRosendo continued without waiting for reply. 

"Padre Simón used to say when I was a child that the red we saw in thesky at sunset was the reflection of the flames of hell; so I havealways thought that hell was below us--perhaps in the center of theearth. "

For a time his simple mind mused over this puerile idea. Then--

"What do you suppose God looks like, Padre?"

Josè's thought flew back to the galleries and chapels of Europe, wherethe masters have so often portrayed their ideas of God in the shape ofan old, gray-haired man, partly bald, and with long, flowing beard. Alas! how pitifully crude, how lamentably impotent such childishconcepts. For they saw in God only their own frailties infinitelymagnified. Small wonder that they lived and died in spiritual gloom!

"Padre, " Rosendo went on, "if there is no limit to the universe, thenit is--"

"Infinite in extent, Rosendo, " finished Josè. 

"Then whoever made it is infinite, too, " Rosendo added hypothetically. 

"An infinite effect implies an infinite cause--yes, certainly, " Josèanswered. 

"So, if God made the universe, He is infinite, is He not, Padre?"

"Yes. "

"Then He can't be at all like us, " was the logical conclusion. 

Josè was thinking hard. The universe stands as something created. Andscientists agree that it is infinite in extent. Its creator thereforemust be infinite in extent. And as the universe continues to exist, that which called it into being, and still maintains it, must likewisecontinue to exist. Hence, God _is_. 

"Padre, what holds the stars in place?" Rosendo's questions were aspersistent as a child's. 

"They are held in place by laws, Rosendo, " the priest repliedevasively. But as he made answer he revolved in his own mind that thelaws by which an infinite universe is created and maintained mustthemselves be infinite. 

"And God made those laws?"

"Yes, Rosendo. "

But, the priest mused, a power great enough to frame infinite lawsmust be itself all-powerful. And if it has ever been all-powerful, itcould never cease to be so, for there could be nothing to deprive itof its power. Omnipotence excludes everything else. Or, what is thesame thing, is all-inclusive. 

But laws originate, even as among human beings, in mind, for a law isa mental thing. So the infinite laws which bind the stars together, and by which the universe was designed and is still maintained, couldhave originated only in a mind, and that one infinite. 

"Then God surely must know everything, " commented Rosendo, by way ofsimple and satisfying conclusion. 

Certainly the creator of an infinite universe--a universe, moreover, which reveals intelligence and knowledge on the part of its cause--theoriginator of infinite laws, which reveal omnipotence in theirmaker--must have all knowledge, all wisdom, at his command. But, onthe other hand, intelligence, knowledge, wisdom, are ever mentalthings. What could embrace these things, and by them create aninfinite universe, but an infinite _mind_?

Josè's thought reverted to Cardinal Newman's reference to God as "aninitial principle. " Surely the history of the universe reveals thepatent fact that, despite the mutations of time, despite growth, maturity, and decay, despite "the wreck of matter and the crash ofworlds, " _something_ endures. What is it--law? Yes, but more. Ideas?Still more. Mind? Yes, the mind which is the _anima mundi_, theprinciple, of all things. 

"But if He is so great, Padre, and knows everything, I don't see whyHe made the devil, " continued Rosendo; "for the devil fights againstHim all the time. "

Ah, simple-hearted child of nature! A mind so pure as yours shouldgive no heed to thoughts of Satan. And the man at your side is now toodeeply buried in the channels which run below the superficiality ofthe world's thought to hear your childish question. Wait. The cause ofan infinite effect must itself be infinite. The framer of infinitelaws must be an infinite mind. And an infinite mind must contain allknowledge, and have all power. But were it to contain any seeds orgerms of decay, or any elements of discord--in a word, any evil--itmust disintegrate. Then it would cease to be omnipotent. Verily, to beeternal and perfect _it must be wholly good_! "And so, " the priestmused aloud, "we call it God. "

But, he continued to reflect, when we accept the conclusion that theuniverse is the product of an infinite mind, we are driven to certainother inevitable conclusions, if we would be logical. The minds of menmanifest themselves continually, and the manifestation is in mentalprocesses and things. Mental activity results in the unfolding ofideas. Does the activity of an infinite mind differ in this respect?And, if not, can the universe be other than a mental thing? For, if aninfinite mind created a universe, it must have done so _by theunfolding of its own ideas_! And, remaining infinite, filling allspace, this mind must ever continue to contain those ideas. And theuniverse--the creation--is mental. 

The burden of thought oppressed the priest, and he got up from hischair and paced back and forth before the house. But still hissearching mind burrowed incessantly, as if it would unearth a livingthing that had been buried since the beginning. 

In order to fully express itself, an infinite mind would have tounfold an infinite number and variety of ideas. And this unfoldingwould go on forever, since an infinite number is never reached. Thisis "creation, " and it could never terminate. 

"Rosendo, " said Josè, returning to his chair, "you have asked whatGod looks like. I cannot say, for God must be mind, unlimited mind. Hehas all knowledge and wisdom, as well as all power. He is necessarilyeternal--has always existed, and always will, for He is entirelyperfect and harmonious, without the slightest trace or taint ofdiscord or evil. "

"Then you think He does not look like us?" queried the simpleRosendo. 

"Mind does not look like a human body, Rosendo. And an infinite causecan be infinite only by being mind, not body. Moreover, He isunchanging--for He could not change and remain eternal. Carmen insiststhat He is everywhere. To be always present He must be what the Biblesays He is spirit. Or, what is the same thing, mind. Rosendo, Hemanifests Himself everywhere and in everything--there is no otherconclusion admissible. And to be eternal He has got to be _absolutelygood_!"

"But, Padre, " persisted Rosendo, "who made the devil?"

"There is no devil!"

"But there is wickedness--"

"No!" interrupted Josè emphatically. "God is infinite good, and therecan be no real evil. "

"But how do you know that, Padre?"

"I can't say how I know it--it reasons out that way logically. I thinkI begin to see the light. Can you not see that for some reason Carmendoesn't admit the existence of evil? And you know, and I know, thatshe is on the right track. I have followed the opposite path all mylife; and it led right into the slough of despond. Now I have turned, and am trying to follow her. And do you put the thought of Satan outof your mentality and do likewise. "

"But, the Virgin Mary--she has power with God?" Rosendo's primitiveideas were in a hopeless tangle. 

"Good friend, forget the Virgin Mary, " said Josè gently, laying hishand on Rosendo's arm. 

"Forget her! _Hombre!_ Why--she has all power--she works miraclesevery hour--she directs the angels--gives commands to God himself!Padre Simón said she was the absolute mistress of heaven and earth, and that men and animals, the plants, the winds, all health, sickness, life and death, depended upon her will! He said she did not die as wemust, but that she was taken up into heaven, and that her body was notallowed to decay and return to dust, as ours will. _Hombre!_ She is inheaven now, praying for us. What would become of us but for her?--forshe prays to God for us--she--!"

"No, Rosendo, she does nothing of the kind. God is infinite, unchanging. He could not be moved or influenced by the Virgin Mary orany one else. He is unlimited _good_. He is not angry with us--Hecouldn't be, for He could not know anger. Did not Jesus say that Godwas Love? Love does not afflict--Love does not need to be importunedor prayed to. I see it now. I see something of what Carmen sees. Wesuffer when we sin, because we 'miss the mark. ' But the punishmentlasts only as long as the sin continues. And we suffer only until weknow that God is infinite good, and that there is no evil. That is thetruth, I feel sure, which Jesus came to teach, and which he said wouldmake us free. Free from what? From the awful beliefs that use us, andto which we are now subject, until we learn the facts about God andHis creation. Don't you see that infinite good could never createevil, nor ever permit evil to be created, nor allow it to reallyexist?"

"Well, then, what is evil? And where did it come from?"

"That we must wait to learn, Rosendo, little by little. You know, theSpanish proverb says, 'Step by step goes a great way. ' But meantime, let us go forward, clinging to this great truth: God is infinitegood--He is love--we are His dear children--and evil was _not_ made byHim, and does not have His sanction. It therefore cannot be real. Itmust be illusion. And, being such, it can be overcome, as Jesus saidit could. "

"_Na_, Padre--"

"Wait, Rosendo!" Josè held up his hand. "Carmen is doing just what Iam advising you to do--is she not?"

"Yes, Padre. "

"Do you think she is mistaken?"

"Padre, she knows God better than she knows me, " the man whispered. 

"It was you who first told her that God was everywhere, was it not?"

"Yes, Padre. "

And the mind of the child, keenly sensitive and receptive to truth, had eagerly grasped this dictum and made it the motif of her life. Sheknew nothing of Jesus, nothing of current theology. Divine Wisdom hadused Rosendo, credulous and superstitious though he himself was, toguard this girl's mind against the entrance of errors which weretaught him as a child, and which in manhood held him shackled inchains which he might not break. 

"Rosendo, " Josè spoke low and reverently, "I believe now that you andI have both been guided by that great mind which I am calling God. Ibelieve we are being used for some beneficent purpose, and that it hasto do with Carmen. That purpose will be unfolded to us as we bow toHis will. Every way closed against me, excepting the one that led toSimití. Here I found her. And now there seems to be but one way opento you--to go back to Guamocó. And you go, forgetful of self, thinkingonly that you serve her. Ah, friend, you are serving Him whom youreflect in love to His beautiful child. "

"Yes, Padre. "

"But, while we accept our tasks gratefully, I feel that we shall betried--and we may not live to see the results of our labors. There areinfluences abroad which threaten danger to Carmen and to us. Perhapswe shall not avert them. But we have given ourselves to her, andthrough her to the great purpose with which I feel she is concerned. "

Rosendo slowly rose, and his great height and magnificent physiquecast the shadow of a Brobdignan in the light as he stood in thedoorway. 

"Padre, " he replied, "I am an old man, and I have but few years left. But however many they be, they are hers. And had I a thousand, I woulddrag them all through the fires of hell for the child! I cannot followyou when you talk about God. My mind gets weary. But this I know, theOne who brought me here and then went away will some day call forme--and I am always ready. "

He turned into the house and sought his hard bed. The great soul knewnot that he reflected the light of divine Love with a radiance unknownto many a boasting "vicar of Christ. "

CHAPTER 9

At the first faint flush of morn Rosendo departed for the hills. Theemerald coronels of the giant _ceibas_ on the far lake verge burnedsoftly with a ruddy glow. From the water's dimpling surface downyvapors rose languidly in delicate tints and drew slowly out innebulous bands across the dawn sky. The smiling softness of thevelvety hills beckoned him, and the pungent odor of moist earthdilated his nostrils. He laughed aloud as the joyousness of youthsurged again through his veins. The village still slumbered, and noone saw him as he smote his great chest and strode to the boat, whereJuan had disposed his outfit and was waiting to pole him across. Onlythe faithful Doña Maria had softly called a final "_adioscito_" to himwhen he left his house. A half hour later, when the dugout poked itsblunt nose into the ooze of the opposite shore, he leaped out andhurriedly divested himself of his clothing. Then he lifted his chairwith its supplies to his shoulders, and Juan strapped it securely tohis back, drawing the heavy band tightly across his forehead. With afarewell wave of his hand to the lad, the man turned and plunged intothe Guamocó trail, and was quickly lost in the dense thicket. Six dayslater, if no accident befell, he would reach his destination, thesinging waters of the crystal Tiguí. 

His heart leaped as he strode, though none knew better than he whathardships those six days held for him--days of plunging throughfever-laden bogs; staggering in withering heat across open savannas;now scaling the slippery slopes of great mountains; now swimming thechill waters of rushing streams; making his bed where night overtookhim, among the softly pattering forest denizens and the swarminginsect life of the dripping woods. His black skin glistened withperspiration and the heavy dew wiped from the close-growing bush. Withone hand he leaned upon a young sapling cut for a staff. With theother he incessantly swung his _machete_ to clear the dim trail. Hiseyes were held fixed to the ground, to escape tripping over low vines, and to avoid contact with crawling creatures of the jungle, whosesting, inflicted without provocation, might so easily prove fatal. Hisactive mind sported the while among the fresh thoughts stimulated by. His journey, though back of all, as through a veil, the vision ofCarmen rose like the pillar of cloud which guided the wanderingIsrael. Toil and danger fled its presence; and from it radiated a warmglow which suffused his soul with light. 

When Josè arose that morning he was still puzzling over the logicalconclusions drawn from his premise of the evening before, and tryingto reconcile them with common sense and prevalent belief. In a way, heseemed to be an explorer, carving a path to hidden wonders. Doña Mariagreeted him at the breakfast table with the simple announcement ofRosendo's early departure. No sign of sorrow ruffled her quiet anddignified demeanor. Nor did Carmen, who bounded into his arms, freshas a new-blown rose, manifest the slightest indication of anxietyregarding Rosendo's welfare. Josè might not divine the thoughts whichthe woman's placid exterior concealed. But for the child, he well knewthat her problem had been met and solved, and that she had laid itaside with a trust in immanent good which he did not believe all theworldly argument of pedant or philosopher could shake. 

"Now to business once more!" cried Josè joyously, the meal finished. "Just a look-in at the church, to get the boys started; and thento devote the day to you, señorita!" The child laughed at theappellation. 

Returning from the church some moments later, Josè found Carmenbending over the fireplace, struggling to remove a heavy kettle fromthe hot stones. 

"Careful, child!" he cried in apprehension, hurrying to herassistance. "You will burn your fingers, or hurt yourself!"

"Not unless you make me, Padre, " Carmen quickly replied, rising andconfronting the priest with a demeanor whose every element spelledrebuke. 

"Well, I certainly shall not _make_ you!" the man exclaimed insurprise. 

"No, Padre. God will not let you. He does not burn or hurt people. "

"Certainly not! But--"

"And nothing else can, for He is everywhere--isn't He?"

"Well--perhaps so, " the priest retorted impatiently. "But somehowpeople get burnt and hurt just the same, and it is well to becareful. "

The child studied him for a moment. Then she said quietly--

"I guess people burn and hurt themselves because they are afraid--don'tthey? And I am not afraid. "

She tossed her brown curls as if in defiance of the thought of fear. Yet Josè somehow felt that she never really defied evil, but rathermet its suggestions with a firm conviction of its impotence in thepresence of immanent good. He checked the impulse to furtherconversation. Bidding the child come to him as soon as possible tobegin the day's work, he went back to his own abode to reflect. 

He had previously said that this child should be brought up to know noevil. And yet, was he not suggesting evil to her at every turn? Didnot his insistence upon the likelihood of hurting or burning herselfemphasize his own stalwart belief in evil as an immanent power andcontingency? Was he thus always to maintain a house divided againstitself? But some day she _must_ know, whether by instruction or direexperience, that evil is a fact to be reckoned with! And as herprotector, it was his duty to--But he had not the heart to shattersuch beautiful confidence!

Then he fell to wondering how long that pure faith could endure. Certainly not long if she were subjected to the sort of instructionwhich the children of this world receive. But was it not his duty withproper tutelage to make it last as long as possible? Was it not evennow so firmly grounded that it never could be shaken?

He dwelt on the fact that nearly all children at some period early inlife commune with their concept of God. He had, himself. As a veryyoung child he had even felt himself on such terms of familiarity withGod that he could not sleep without first bidding Him good night. As ayoung child, too, he had known no evil. Nor do any children, untiltheir perfect confidence in good is chilled by the false instructionof parents and teachers, who parade evil before them in all itshideous garb. 

Alas! for the baneful belief that years bring wisdom. How pitiable, and how cruelly detrimental to the child are an ignorant parent'sassumptions of superiority! How tremendous the responsibility that nowlay at his own door! Yet no greater than that which lies at the doorof every parent throughout the world. 

It is sadly true, he reflected, that children are educated almostentirely along material lines. Even in the imparting of religiousinstruction, the spiritual is so tainted with materialism, and itsconcomitants of fear and limitation, that the preponderance of faithis always on the material side. Josè had believed that as he had grownolder in years he had lost faith. Far from it! The quantity of hisfaith remained fixed; but the quality had changed, through education, from faith in good to faith in evil. And though trained as a priest ofGod, in reality he had been taught wholly to distrust spiritualpower. 

But how could a parent rely on spiritual power to save a child aboutto fall into the fire? Must not children be warned, and taught toprotect themselves from accident and disaster, as far as may be?True--yet, what causes accident and disaster? Has the parent's thoughtaught to do with it? Has the world's thought? Can it be traced to theuniversal acceptance of evil as a power, real and operative? Doesmankind's woeful lack of faith in good manifest itself in accident, sickness, and death?

A cry roused Josè from his revery. It came from back of the house. Hastening to the rear door he saw Doña Maria standing petrified, looking in wide-eyed horror toward the lake. Josè followed her gaze, and his blood froze. Carmen had been sent to meet the canoe that dailysupplied fresh water to the village from the Juncal river, whichflowed into the lake at the far north end. It had not yet arrived, andshe had sat down beside her jar at the water's edge, and was lost indreams as she looked out over the shimmering expanse. A huge crocodilewhich had been lying in the shadow of a shale ledge had marked thechild, and was steadily creeping up behind her. The reptile was but afew feet from her when Doña Maria, wondering at her delay, had gone tothe rear door and witnessed her peril. 

In a flash Josè recalled the tale related to him but a few days beforeby Fidel Avila, who was working in the church. 

"Padre, " Fidel had said, "as soon as the church is ready I shalloffer a candle to good _Santa Catalina_ for protecting my sister. "

"How was that, my son?" inquired Josè. 

"She protected her from a crocodile a year ago, Padre. The girl hadgone to the lake to get water to wash our clothes, and as she sat inthe stern of the boat dipping the water, a great crocodile rose andseized her arm. I heard her scream, and I was saying the rosary at thetime. And so I prayed to _Santa Catalina_ not to let the crocodile eather, and she didn't. "

"Then your sister was saved?"

"The crocodile pulled her under the water, Padre, and she was drowned. But he did not eat her; and we got her body and buried her here in thecemetery. We were very grateful. "

_Sancta simplicitas!_ That such childish credulity might be turnedinto proper channels!

But there were times when fish were scarce in the lake. Then thecrocodiles became bold; and many babes had been seized and dragged offby them, never to return. The fishing this season had been very poor. And more than one fisherman had asked Josè to invoke the Virgin in hisbehalf. 

Nearer crept the monster toward the unsuspecting girl. Suddenly sheturned and looked squarely at it. She might almost have touched itwith her hand. For Josè it was one of those crises that "crowdeternity into an hour. " The child and the reptile might have beenpainted against that wondrous tropic background. The great brute stoodbolt upright on its squat legs, its hideous jaws partly open. The girlmade no motion, but seemed to hold it with her steady gaze. Then--thecreature dropped; its jaws snapped shut; and it scampered into thewater. 

"God above!" cried Josè, as he rushed to the girl and clasped her inhis arms. "Forgive me if I ever doubted the miracles of Jesus!"

Doña Maria turned and quietly resumed her work; but the man wascompletely unstrung. 

"What is it, Padre?" Carmen asked in unfeigned surprise. "I am notafraid of crocodiles--are you? You couldn't be, if you knew that Godis everywhere. "

"But don't you know, child, that crocodiles have carried off--"

He checked himself. No--he would not say it. He had had his lesson. 

"What, Padre?"

"Nothing--nothing--I forgot--that's all. A--a--come, let us begin ourlessons now. "

But his mind refused to be held to the work. Finally he had to ask--hecould not help it. 

"Carmen, what did you do? Did you talk to the crocodile?"

"Why, no, Padre--crocodiles don't talk!" And throwing her little headback she laughed heartily at the absurd idea. 

"But--you did something! What was it? Tell me. "

"No, Padre, I did nothing, " the child persisted. 

He saw he must reach her thought in another way. "Why did thecrocodile come up to you, Carmen?" he asked. 

"Why--I guess because it loved me--I don't know. "

"And did you love it as you sat looking at it?"

"Of course, Padre. We have just got to love _everything_. Don't youknow that?"

"Y--yes--that is so, _chiquita_. I--I just thought I would ask you. Now let us begin the arithmetic lesson. "

The child loved the hideous saurian! And "perfect love casteth outfear. " What turned the monster from the girl and drove it into thelake? Love, again, before which evil falls in sheer impotence? Had sheworked a miracle? Certainly not! Had God interposed in her behalf?Again, no. "He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most Highshall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. " And would divine Lovealways protect her? There could be no question about it, _as long asshe knew no evil_. 

The morning hours sped past. From arithmetic, they turned to theEnglish lesson. Next to perfection in her own Castilian, Josè feltthat this language was most important for her. And she delighted init, although her odd little pronunciations, and her vain attempts tomanipulate words to conform to her own ideas of enunciation broughtmany a hearty laugh, in which she joined with enthusiasm. Theafternoon, as was his plan for future work, was devoted to narrativesof men and events, and to descriptions of places. It was a ceaselesswonder to Josè how her mind absorbed his instruction. 

"How readily you see these things, Carmen, " he said, as he concludedthe work for the day. 

"See them, Padre? But not with my outside eyes. "

The remark seemed to start a train of thought within her mentality. "Padre, " she at length asked, "how do we see with our eyes?"

"It is very simple, _chiquita_, " Josè replied. "Here, let me draw apicture of an eye. "

He quickly sketched a rough outline of the human organ of sight. "Now, " he began, "you know you cannot see in the dark, don't you?"

"Yes, Padre?"

"In order to see, we must have light. "

"What is light, Padre dear?"

"Well--light is--is vibrations. That is, rapid movement. "

"What moves?"

"A--a--a--well, nothing--that is, light is just vibrations. Thependulum of the old clock in Don Mario's store vibrates, youknow--moves back and forth. "

"And light does that?"

"Yes; light _is_ that. Now that chair there, for example, reflectslight, just as a mirror does. It reflects vibrations. And these areall of just a certain length, for vibrations of just that length andmoving up and down just so fast make light. The light enters the eye, like this, " tracing the rays on his sketch. "It makes a little pictureof the chair on the back of the eye, where the optic nerve isfastened. Now the light makes the little ends of this nerve vibrate, too--move very rapidly. And that movement is carried along the nerveto some place in the brain--to what we call the center of sight. Andthere we see the chair. "

The child studied the sketch long and seriously. 

"But, Padre, is the picture of the chair carried on the nerve to thebrain?"

"Oh, no, _chiquita_, only vibrations. It is as if the nerve moved justa little distance, but very, very fast, back and forth, or up anddown. "

"And no picture is carried to the brain?"

"No, there is just a vibration in the brain. "

"And that vibration makes us see the chair?"

"Yes, little one. "

A moment of silence. Then--

"Padre dear, I don't believe it. "

"Why, _chiquita_!"

"Well, Padre, what is it that sees the chair, anyway?"

"The mind, dear. "

"Is the mind up there in the brain?"

"Well--no, we can't say that it is. "

"Where is it, then?"

"A--a--well, no place in particular--that is, it is right here all thetime. "

"Well, then, when the mind wants to see the chair does it have toclimb up into the brain and watch that little nerve wiggle?"

The man was at a loss for an answer. Carmen suddenly crumpled thesketch in her small hand and smiled up at him. 

"Padre dear, I don't believe our outside eyes see anything. We justthink they do, don't we?"

Josè looked out through the open door. Carmen's weird heron wasstalking in immense dignity past the house. 

"I think Cantar-las-horas is getting ready to sing the Vespers, _chiquita_. And so Doña Maria probably needs you now. We will talkmore about the eye to-morrow. "

By the light of his sputtering candle that night Josè sat with elbowspropped on the table, his head clasped in his hands, and a sketch ofthe human eye before him. In his confident attempt to explain toCarmen the process of cognition he had been completely baffled. Certainly, light coming from an object enters the eye and casts apicture upon the retina. He had often seen the photographic cameraexhibit the same phenomenon. The law of the impenetrability of matterhad to be set aside, of course--or else light must be pure vibration, without a material vibrating concomitant. Then, too, it was plain thatthe light in some way communicated its vibration to the littleprojecting ends of the optic nerve, which lie spread out over the rearinner surface of the eye. And equally patent that this vibration is insome way taken up by the optic nerve and transmitted to the center ofsight in the brain. But after that--what? He laughed again at Carmen'spertinent question about the mind climbing up into the brain to seethe vibrating nerve. But was it so silly a presumption, after all? Isthe mind within the brain, awaiting in Stygian darkness the advent ofthe vibrations which shall give it pictures of the outside world? Oris the mind outside of the brain, but still slavishly forced to lookat these vibrations of the optic nerve and then translate them intoterms of things without? What could a vibrating nerve suggest to awell-ordered mind, anyway? He might as logically wave a piece of meatand expect thereby to see a world! He laughed aloud at the thought. Why does not the foolish mind leave the brain and look at the pictureon the retina? Or why does it not throw off its shackles and lookdirectly at the object to be cognized, instead of submitting todependence upon so frail a thing as fleshly eyes and nerves?

As he mused and sketched, unmindful of the voracious mosquitoes or theblundering moths that momentarily threatened his light, it dawnedslowly upon him that the mind's awareness of material objects couldnot possibly depend upon the vibrations of pieces of nerve tissue, sominute as to be almost invisible to the unaided sight. Still moreabsurd did it appear to him that his own mind, of which he mightjustly boast tremendous powers, could be prostituted to such a degreethat its knowledge of things must be served to it on waving pieces offlesh. 

And how about the other senses--touch, hearing? Did the ear hear, orthe hand feel? He had always accepted the general belief that man isdependent absolutely upon the five physical senses for his knowledgeof an outside world. And now a little thought showed that from thesefive senses man could not possibly receive anything more than a seriesof disconnected vibrations! And, going a step further, anything thatthe mind infers from these vibrations is unquestionably inferred_without a particle of outside authority_!

He rose and paced the floor. A tremendous idea seemed to be knockingat the portal of his mentality. 

What can the mind know? Assuredly nothing but the contents of itself. But the contents of mind are thoughts, ideas, mental things. Do solidmaterial objects enter the mind? Certainly not! Then the mind knowsnot things, but its _thoughts of things_. And instead of seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and feeling solid material objects, themind sees, hears, smells, tastes, and feels--what? The contents ofitself! Its own thoughts and ideas! And the outer world? Is only whatthe mind _believes_ it to be. But surely his mind saw an outer worldthrough the medium of his eye! No. His mind saw only its own conceptsof an outer world--and these concepts, being mental, might take onwhatever hue and tinge his mind decreed. In other words, instead ofseeing a world of matter, he was seeing only a mental picture of aworld. And that picture was in his own mind, _and formed by thatmind_!

The man seized his hat and hurried out into the night. He walkedrapidly the full length of the town. His mind was wrestling withstupendous thoughts. 

An hour later he returned to his house, and seizing a pencil, wroterapidly: Matter is mental. We do not see or feel matter, but we_think_ it. It is formed and held as a mental concept in every humanmind. The material universe is but the human mind's concept of auniverse, and can only be this mentality's translation to itself ofinfinite Mind's purely mental Creation. 

"And so, " he commented aloud, sitting back and regarding his writing, "all my miserable life I have been seeing only my own thoughts! And Ihave let them use me and color my whole outlook!"

He extinguished the candle and threw himself, fully dressed, upon hisbed. 

CHAPTER 10

Momentous changes, of far-reaching effect, had come swiftly upon Josède Rincón during the last few days, changes which were destined aftermuch vacillation and great mental struggle to leave a reversedoutlook. But let no one think these changes fortuitous or casual, thechance result of a new throw of Fate's dice. Josè, seeing them dimlyoutlined, did not so regard them, but rather looked upon them as theworking of great mental laws, still unknown, whose cumulative effecthad begun a transformation in his soul. How often in his seminary dayshe had pondered the scripture, "He left not Himself without witness. "How often he had tried to see the hopeless confusion of good and evilin the world about him as a witness to the One who is of purer eyesthan to behold evil. And he had at last abandoned his efforts indespair. Yet that there must be something behind the complex phenomenawhich men call life, he knew. Call it what he would--law, force, mind, God, or even X, the great unknown quantity for which life's intricateequations must be solved--yet _something_ there was in it all whichendured in an eternal manifestation. But could that something endurein an expression both good and evil?

He had long since abandoned all study of the Bible. But in these lastdays there had begun to dawn upon him the conviction that within thatstrange book were locked mysteries which far transcended the wildestimaginings of the human mind. With it came also the certainty thatJesus had been in complete possession of those sacred mysteries. Therecould be no question now that his mission had been woefullymisunderstood, often deliberately misinterpreted, and too frequentlymaliciously misused by mankind. His greatest sayings, teachings sopregnant with truth that, had they been rightfully appropriated bymen, ere this would have dematerialized the universe and revealed thespiritual kingdom of God, had been warped by cunning minds into crudesystems of theology and righteous shams, behind which the world'smoney-changers and sellers of doves still drove their wicked trafficand offered insults to Truth in the temple of the Most High. 

Oh, how he now lamented the narrowness and the intellectuallimitations with which his seminary training had been hedged about!The world's thought had been a closed book to him. Because of hismorbid honesty, only such pages reached his eye as had passed thebigoted censorship of Holy Church. His religious instruction had beenserved to him with the seal of infallible authority. Of other systemsof theology he had been permitted only the Vatican's biasedinterpretation, for the curse of Holy Church rested upon them. Ofcurrent philosophical thought, of Bible criticism and the results ofindependent scriptural research, he knew practically nothing--littlebeyond what the explorer had told him in their memorable talks a fewweeks before in Cartagena. But, had he known it, these had unbarredthe portals of his mind to the reception of the new ideas which, undera most powerful stimulus, were now flowing so steadily through them. That stimulus was Carmen. 

To meet with a child of tender years who knows no evil is, after all, a not uncommon thing. For, did we but realize it, the world abounds inthem. They are its glory, its radiance--until they are taught to heedthe hiss of the serpent. Their pure knowledge of immanent good wouldendure--ah, who may say how long?--did not we who measure our wisdomby years forbid them with the fear-born mandate: "Thus far!" Whatmanner of being was he who said, "Suffer little children to come untome, and forbid them not?" Oh, ye parents, who forbid your little onesto come to the Christ by hourly heaping up before them the limitationsof fear and doubt, of faith in the power and reality of sin and evil, of false instruction, and withering material beliefs! Would not theChrist pray for you to-day, "Father, forgive them, for they know notwhat they do"?

When Josè met Carmen she was holding steadfastly to her vision--theimmanence and allness of God. Each day she created the morrow; and sheknew to a certainty that it would be happy. Would he, clanking hisfetters of worldly beliefs, be the one to shatter her illusion, ifillusion it be? Nay, rather should he seek to learn of her, if; haplyshe be in possession of that jewel for which he had searched a vainlifetime. Already from the stimulus which his intercourse with thechild had given his mental processes there had come a suddenliberation of thought. Into his freer mentality the Christ-idea nowflowed. 

Mankind complain that they cannot "prove" God. But Paul long sincedeclared emphatically that to prove Him the human mind must betransformed. In the light of the great ideas which had dawned upon himin the past few days--the nature of God as mind, unlimited, immanent, eternal, and good; and the specious character of the five physicalsenses, which from the beginning have deluded mankind into the falsebelief that through them comes a true knowledge of the cosmos--Josè'smentality was being formed anew. 

Hegel, delving for truth in a world of illusion, summed up a lifetimeof patient research in the pregnant statement, "The true knowledge ofGod begins when we know that things as they are have no truth inthem. " The testimony of the five physical senses constitutes "thingsas they are. " But--if Josè's reasoning be not illogical--the humanmind receives no testimony from these senses, which, at most, canoffer but insensate and meaningless vibrations in a pulpy mass calledthe brain. The true knowledge of God, for which Josè had yearned andstriven, begins only when men turn from the mesmeric deception of thephysical senses, and learn that there is something, knowable andusable, behind them, and of whose existence they give not theslightest intimation. 

It was Saturday. The church edifice was so far put in order that Josèfound no reason for not holding service on the morrow. He thereforeannounced the fact, and told Carmen that he must devote the day topreparation. Their lessons must go over to Monday. Seeking thesolitude of his house, Josè returned to his Bible. 

He began with Genesis. "In the beginning--God. " Not, as in the codesof men, God last, and after every material expedient has beenexhausted--but "to begin with. " Josè could not deny that for all thatexists there is a cause. Nor can the human mind object to theimplication that the cause of an existing universe must itselfcontinue to exist. Even less can it deny that the framer of theworlds, bound together in infinite space by the unbreakable cables ofinfinite laws, must be omnipotent. And to retain its omnipotence, thatcause must be perfect--absolutely good--every whit pure, sound, andharmonious; for evil is demonstrably self-destructive. And, lastly, what power could operate thus but an infinite intelligence, anall-inclusive mind?

Now let the human mentality continue its own reasoning, if so be thatit hold fast to fact and employ logical processes. If "likeproduces like"--and from thistles figs do not grow--that which mindcreates must be mental. And a good cause can produce only a goodeffect. So the ancient writer, "And God saw every thing that He hadmade, and, behold, it was very good. " The inspired scribe--inspired?Yes, mused Josè, for inspiration is but the flow of truth into one'smentality--stopped not until he had said, "So God created man inHis own image"--

Wait! He will drive that home. 

--"in the image of God"--not in the image of matter, not in thelikeness of evil--"created He him. " But what had now become of thatman?

So Jesus, centuries later, "God is spirit, " and, "That which is bornof the Spirit is spirit. " Or, man--true man--expresses mind, God, andis His eternal and spiritual likeness and reflection. But, to makethis still clearer to torpid minds, Paul wrote, "For in Him we live, and move, and have our being. " Then he added, "To be spirituallyminded is life. " As if he would say, True life is the _consciousness_of spiritual things only. 

Is human life aught but a series of states of consciousness? And isconsciousness aught but mental activity?--for when the mind's activityceases, the man dies. But mental activity is the activity of thought. 

"It is the activity of thought, " said Josè aloud, "that makes usbelieve that fleshly eyes see and ears hear. We see only our thoughts;and in some way they become externalized as our environment. "

His reasoning faculty went busily on. Thought builds images, or mentalconcepts, within the mind. These are the thought-objects which mankindbelieve they see as material things in an outer world. And so theworld is within, not without. Jesus must have known this when he said, "The kingdom of heaven is within you. " Did he not know the tremendouseffects of thought when he said, "For as a man thinketh, so is he"? Inother words, a man builds his own mental image of himself, and conveysit to the fellow-minds about him. 

Josè again opened his Bible at random. His eye fell upon thewarning of Jeremiah, "Hear, O earth, behold I will bring evilupon this people, _even the fruit of their thoughts_!" Alas! heneeded no warning to show him now the dire results of his own pastwrong thinking. Evil is but wrong thinking wrought out in lifeexperience. And so the chief of sins is the breaking of the veryfirst Commandment, the belief in other powers than God, theinfinite mind that framed the spiritual universe. 

"But we simply can't help breaking the Commandment, " cried Josè, "whenwe see nothing but evil about us! And yet--we are seeing only thethoughts in our own minds. True--but how came they there? And whence?From God?"

Josè was quite ready to concede a mental basis for everything; tobelieve that even sin is but the thought of sin, false thoughtregarding God and His Creation. But, if God is all-inclusive mind, Hemust be _the only thinker_. And so all thought must proceed from Him. All thought, both good and evil? No, for then were God maintaining ahouse divided against itself. And that would mean His ultimatedissolution. 

Infinite, omnipotent mind is by very logic _compelled_ to be perfect. Then the thoughts issuing from that mind must be good. So it mustfollow that evil thoughts come from another source. But if God isinfinite, there is no other source, no other cause. Then there is butthe single alternative left--_evil thoughts must be unreal_. 

What was it that the explorer had said to him in regard to Spencer'sdefinition of reality? "That which endures. " But, for that matter, evil seems to be just as enduring as good, and to run its course asundeviatingly. After all, what is it that says there is evil? The fivephysical senses. But that again reduces to the thought of evil, formen see only their thoughts. These so-called senses say that the worldis flat--that the sun circles the earth--that objects diminish in sizewith distance. They testify not to truth. Jesus said that evil, or the"devil, " was "a liar and the father of lies. " Then the testimony ofthe physical senses to evil--and there is no other testimony to itsexistence and power--is a lie. A lie is--what? Nothing. Reason has hadto correct sense-testimony in the field of astronomy and show that theearth is not flat. Where, indeed, has reason not had to correctsense-testimony? For Josè could now see that all such testimony wasessentially false. "Things as they are have no truth in them. " Inother words, sense-testimony is false belief. Again, a lie. And thehabitat of a lie is--nowhere. Did the world by clinging to evil andtrying to make something of it, to classify it and reduce it todefinite rules and terms, thus tend to make it real? Assuredly so. Andas long as the world held evil to be real, could evil be overcome?Again, no. A reality endures forever. 

Josè arose from his study. He believed he was close to the discoveryof that solid basis of truth on which to stand while teaching Carmen. At any rate, her faith, which he could no longer believe to bebaseless illusion, would not be shattered by him. 

CHAPTER 11

Two weeks after his arrival in Simití Josè conducted his firstservices in the ancient church. After four years of silence, the rustybell sent out its raucous call from the old tower that still morningand announced the revival of public worship. 

As the priest stepped from the sacristy and approached the altar hisheart experienced a sudden sinking. Before him his little flock bowedreverently and expectantly. Looking out at them, a lump rose in histhroat. He was their pastor, and daily his love had grown for thesekindly, simple folk. And now, what would he not have given could hehave stretched forth his hands, as did the Master, to heal them oftheir ills and lift them out of the shadows of ignorance! Ah, if hecould have thrown aside the mummery and pagan ceremonialism which hewas there to conduct, and have sat down among them, as Jesus was wontto do on those still mornings in Galilee! Instead, he stood beforethem an apostate vassal of Rome, hypocritically using the Church toshield and maintain himself in Simití while he reared away from herthe child Carmen. 

Yet, what could he do? He had heard the call; and he had answered, "Master, here am I. " And now he was occupying, while waiting to beled, step by step, out of his cruelly anomalous position and into hisrightful domain. A traitor to Holy Church? Nay, he thought he wouldhave been a traitor to all that was best and holiest within himselfhad he done otherwise. In the name of the Church he would serve thesehumble people. Serving them, he honored the Master. And honoringChrist, he could not dishonor the Church. 

Josè's conduct of the Mass was perfunctory. Vainly he strove to holdin thought the symbolism of the service, the offering of Christ as apropitiation for the world's sins. But gradually the folly of Milton'sextravagant, wild dream, which the poet clothed in such imperishablebeauty, stole over him and blinded this vision. He saw the HolyTrinity sitting in solemn council in the courts of heaven. He heardtheir perplexed discussion of the ravages of Satan in the terrestrialparadise below. He heard the Father pronounce His awful curse uponmankind. And he beheld the Son rise and with celestial magnanimityoffer himself as the sacrificial lamb, whose blood should wash awaythe serpent-stain of sin. How inept the whole drama!

And then he thought of Carmen. He had seen her, as he looked out overhis people, sitting with Doña Maria, arrayed in a clean white frock, and swinging her plump bare legs beneath the bench, while wonder andamazement peered out from her big brown eyes as she followed his everymove. What would such things mean to her, whose God was ever-presentgood? What did they mean to the priest himself, who was beginning tosee Him as infinite, divine mind, knowing no evil--the One whosethoughts are not as ours?

He took up the holy water and sprinkled the assemblage. "Purge me withhyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter thansnow. " But how is the human mind purged of error? By giving it truth. And does the infinite mind purge the thought of men in any other way?His mind was full as he took up the Missal. "_Kyrie Eleison_, _ChristeEleison_. "

He hesitated. With a tug he pulled his mind back to the work beforehim. But why was he invoking clemency from One who knows no evil?Heretofore he had always thought that God knew evil, that He mustrecognize it, and that He strove Himself to overcome it. But if Godknew evil, then evil were real and eternal! Dreamily he began tointone the _Gloria in Excelsis Deo_. All hail, thou infinite mind, whose measureless depths mortal man has not even begun to sound! Hissoul could echo that strain forever. 

He turned to the Lesson and read: "But there went up a mist from theearth, and watered the whole face of the ground. And the Lord Godformed man of the dust of the ground. " He stopped a moment forthought. The _Lord_ God! The mist of error watered the falsethought--the one lie about God--and out of it formed the man of flesh, the false concept which is held in the minds of mortals. Aye, it wasthe lie, posing as the Lord of creation, which had formed its falseman out of the dust of the ground, and had forced it upon theacceptance of mankind! Josè turned back and read the whole of thefirst chapter of Genesis, where he felt that he stood upon truth. 

The tapers on the altar flickered fitfully. The disturbed batsblundered among the rafters overhead. Outside, the dusty roads burnedwith a white glare. Within, he and the people were worshiping God. Worship? This? "God is a spirit, and they that worship Him mustworship Him in spirit and in truth. " In _Truth_!

Josè recited the Nicene creed, with the thought that its man-madefetters had bound the Christian world for dreary centuries. Then, thePreface and Canon concluded, he pronounced the solemn words ofconsecration which turned the bread and wine before him into the fleshand blood of Christ Jesus. He looked at the wafer and the chalice longand earnestly. He--Josè de Rincón--mortal, human, a weakling amongweaklings--could he command God by his "_Hoc est enim corpus meum_" todescend from heaven to this altar? Could he so invoke the power of theChrist as to change bread and wine into actual flesh and blood? Andyet, with all the priestly powers which Holy Church had conferred uponhim, he could not heal a single bodily ill, nor avert one humanmisfortune!

Ah, pagan Rome! Well have you avenged yourself upon those who wroughtyour fall, for in the death conflict you left the taint of yourpaganism upon them, and it endures in their sons even to this fairday!

Josè deferred his sermon until the close of the service. He wantedtime to think over again what he could say to these simple people. They sat before him, dull, inert, yet impressionable--bare of feet, orwearing hempen sandals, and clad in cheap cottons and calicos, withhere and there a flash of bright ribbon among the women, andoccasionally a parasol of brilliant hue, which the owner fondlyclasped, while impatiently awaiting the close of the service that shemight proudly parade it. A few of the men wore starched linen shirts, but without collars. The Alcalde, with his numerous family, and thefamily of Don Felipe Alcozer, sat well in front. The former regardedJosè expectantly, as the priest turned to deliver his simple sermon. 

"My children, " Josè began, "when the good man whom we call the Savioursent his disciples out into the world he told them to preach thegospel and heal the sick. We have no record that he asked them to domore, for that included his whole mission. I am here to do his work. And, as I believe myself to have been led to you, so I shall preachwhat I believe to be given me by the great Father of us all. I shallteach you the Christ as I comprehend him. I would I could heal thesick as well. But the gift of healing which Jesus bestowed has beenlost to mankind. " He paused and seemed to think deeply. Then hecontinued:

"I am your servant, and your friend. I want you to believe thatwhatever I do in your midst and whatever I say to you follows onlyafter I have prayerfully considered your welfare. As time has passed Ihave seemed to see things in a clearer light than before. What I maysee in the future I shall point out to you as you are able tounderstand me. To that end we must suffer many things to be as theyare for the present, for I am learning with you. I shall give you asingle thought to take with you to-day. Jesus once said, 'As a manthinketh, so is he. ' I want you to remember that, if you would be welland happy and prosperous, you must think only about good things. Someday you will see why this is so. But go back now to your _fincas_ andyour fishing, to your little stores and your humble homes, firmlyresolving never to think a bad thought, whether about yourself or yourneighbor. And pray for yourselves and me--"

He looked off into the gloom overhead. Again he seemed to hear the Manof Galilee: "Ask and ye shall receive. "

"And, my children--"

He thought suddenly of Carmen and her visits to the shales. His faceshone for a moment with a new light. 

"--let your prayers be no mere requests that God will bless us, butrather let them be statements that He is infinite good, and that Hecannot do otherwise than give us all we need. No, I ask not that youintercede for me; nor shall I do so for you. But I do ask that youjoin with me in trying to realize that God is good; that He loves usas His dear children; and that He is daily, hourly pouring out Hisinexhaustible goodness upon us. We shall all see that goodness when welearn to think no evil. "

His eyes rested upon Carmen as he spoke these last words. Then with asimple invocation he dismissed the congregation. 

The Alcalde carried Josè off to dinner with him, much against theinclination of the priest, who preferred to be alone. But the Alcaldewas the chief influence in the town, and it was policy to cultivatehim. 

"The blessed Virgin shows that she has not forgotten Simití, Padre, bysending you here, " said Don Mario, when they were seated in the shadeof the ample _patio_. 

Josè knew the Alcalde was sounding him. "Yes, friend, " with just atrace of amusement in his voice. "It was doubtless because of theVirgin that I was directed here, " he replied, thinking of Carmen. 

"Excellent advice that you gave the people, Padre; but it is notlikely they understood you, poor fools! Now if Padre Diego had beenpreaching he would have ranted like a windstorm; but he would havemade an impression. I am afraid soft words will not sink into theirthick skulls. "

Dinner was served in the open, during which the Alcalde chatteredvolubly. 

"Don Rosendo returns soon?" he finally ventured. Josè knew that forsome time he had been edging toward the question. 

"_Quien sabe, señor!_" replied the priest, with a careless shrug ofhis shoulders. 

"But--_Caramba_! he is old to prospect for gold--and alone, too!" DonMario eyed Josè sharply. 

"Ah, you priests!" he burst out laughing. "You are all alike when itcomes to money. Padre Diego was up to the same schemes; and before heleft he had a hat full of titles to mines. "

"But I am not seeking to acquire mineral property!" exclaimed Josèwith some aspersion. 

"No? Then you had nothing to do with Rosendo's trip?"

Josè kept silence. 

"_Na_, Padre, let us be confidential, " said the Alcalde, hitching hischair closer to the priest. "Look, I understand why Rosendo went intothe Guamocó country--but you can trust me to say nothing about it. Only, Padre, if he should find the mine he will have trouble enoughto hold it. But I can help you both. You know the denouncementpapers must go through my hands, and I send them to Cartagena forregistration. "

He sat back in his chair with a knowing look. 

"There is only one man here to be afraid of, " he resumed; "and that isDon Felipe Alcozer; although he may never return to Simití. " Hereflected a few moments. Then:

"Now, Padre, let us have some understanding about interests in themine, should Rosendo find it. The mine will be useless to us unless wework it, for there is no one to buy it from us. To work it, we musthave a stamp-mill, or _arrastras_. The Antioquanians are skilled inthe making of wooden stamp-mills; but one would cost perhaps twothousand _pesos oro_. Nobody here can furnish so much money but DonFelipe. I will arrange with him for a suitable interest. And I willfix all the papers so that the title will be held by us three. Rosendois only a _peon_. You can pay him for his trouble, and he need nothave an interest. "

Josè breathed easier while this recital was in progress. So Don Mariobelieved Rosendo to have gone in search of the lost mine, La Libertad!Good; for Cartagena would soon get the report, and his own tenure ofthe parish would be rendered doubly sure thereby. The monthly greasingof Wenceslas' palm with what Rosendo might extract from the Guamocósands, coupled with the belief that Josè was maintaining a man in thefield in search of Don Ignacio's lost mine, rendered Cartagena'sinterference a very remote contingency. He almost laughed as hereplied:

"Rosendo will doubtless prospect for some months, Don Mario, and I amsure we shall have plenty of time to discuss any arrangement ofinterests later, should occasion arise. But this is the Sabbath day. So let us not talk business any further. "

When the afternoon heat began to wane, Josè left the Alcalde andreturned to his cottage. Since the service of the morning he had beenfighting a constantly deepening sense of depression. An awfulloneliness now gripped his heart, and dank gloom was again sweepingthrough the corridors of his soul. God, what a sacrifice, to remainburied in that dismal town! His continuance in the priesthood of anabjured faith was violative of every principle of honesty! The timewould come when the mask of hypocrisy would have to be raised, and theresultant exposure would be worse then than open apostasy now!

He entered his dreary little abode and threw himself upon a chair. There had been no reaction like this for days. He looked out into thedeserted street. Mud hovels; ragged, thatched roofs; lowly _peones_drowsing away life's little hour within! There was scarcely a book inthe town. Few of its inhabitants could even read or write. Culture, education, refinement--all wanting. Nothing but primal existence--thebarest necessities of real life. He could not stand it! He had been afool all his years! He would throw everything to the winds and go outinto the world to live his life as it had been intended he should liveit. He would send his resignation to the Bishop to-morrow. Then hewould hire Juan to take him to Bodega Central; and the few _pesos_ hehad left would get him to Barranquilla. There he would work until hehad earned enough for his passage to the great States up north, ofwhich the explorer had told such wonderful tales. Once there, he couldteach, or--

His thought turned to Rosendo. He saw him, bent with age, and weariedwith toil, alone in the awful solitude of the jungle, standing kneedeep in the cold mountain water, while from early dawn till sunset heincessantly swung the heavy _batea_ to concentrate the few flakes ofprecious gold it might contain. And the old man was facing years ofjust such loneliness and heavy toil--facing them gladly. 

He thought of Carmen. Was she worth such sacrifice as he and Rosendowere making? God forgive him! Yes--a thousand times yes! If hebetrayed Rosendo's confidence and fled like a coward now, leaving herto fall into the sooty hands of men like Padre Diego, to be crushed, warped, and squeezed into the molds of Holy Church, could he everagain face his fellow-men?

He jumped to his feet. "Get thee behind me, Satan!" he cried in avoice that echoed through the barren rooms. He smote his chest andpaced the floor. Then he stopped still. He heard Carmen's voice again. It was the same simple melody she had sung the day he awoke from hisfever. He stood listening. His eyes filled. Then--

 "Love took up the harp of life, and smote on all the chords with might, Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed in music out of sight. "

CHAPTER 12

In the days that followed, while at times Josè still struggleddesperately against the depression of his primal environment, andagainst its insidious suggestions of license, Carmen moved before himlike the shechinah of Israel, symbolizing the divine presence. Whenthe dark hours came and his pronounced egoism bade fair to overwhelmhim; when his self-centered thought clung with the tenacity of alimpet to his dreary surroundings and his unfilled longings; whenself-condemnation and self-pity rived his soul, and despair of solvinglife's intricate problems settled again like a pall upon him, heturned to her. Under the soft influence of her instinct for primitivegood, he was learning, even if slowly, to jettison his heavily ladensoul, and day by day to ride the tossing waves of his stormy thoughtwith a lighter cargo. Her simple faith in immanent good was workingupon his mind like a spiritual catharsis, to purge it of its cloggingbeliefs. Her unselfed love flowed over him like heavenly balm, salvingthe bleeding wounds of the spiritual mayhem which he had suffered atthe violent hands of Holy Church's worldly agents. 

Carmen's days were filled to the brim with a measure of joy thatconstantly overflowed upon all among whom she moved. Her slightdependence upon her impoverished material environment, her contemptof its _ennui_, were constant reminders to Josè that heaven is buta state of mind. Even in desolate Simití, life to her was anendless series of delightful experiences, of wonderful surprisesin the discovery of God's presence everywhere. Her enthusiasms werealways ardent and inexhaustible. Sparkling animation and aboundingvitality characterized her every movement. Her thought was free, unstrained, natural, and untrammeled by those inherited and educatedbeliefs in evil in which Josè had early been so completely swamped. In worldly knowledge she was the purest novice; and the engaging_naïveté_ with which she met the priest's explanations of historicalevents and the motives from which they sprang charmed him beyondmeasure, and made his work with her a constant delight. Her sense ofhumor was keen, and her merriment when his recitals touched herrisibility was extravagant. She laughed at danger, laughed at theweaknesses and foibles of men, when he told of the political andsocial ambitions which stirred mankind in the outside world. But heknew that her merriment proceeded not from an ephemeral sense ofthe ludicrous, but from a righteous appraisal of the folly andlittleness of those things for which the world so sorely strives. 

And daily the little maid wrapped herself about his heart. Daily herwondrous love coiled its soft folds tighter around him, squeezing fromhis atrabilious soul, drop by drop, its sad taciturnity and inherentmorbidness, that it might later fill his empty life with a spiritualrichness which he had never known before. 

On the day following the opening of the church Carmen had askedmany questions. It was the first religious service she had evervoluntarily attended. To her former queries regarding the functionof the church edifice, Rosendo had vouchsafed but one reply: it wasthe house of God, and in it the people used to gather to learn of Him. But she protested that she had no need of the musty, ramshackle, barn-like old building as a locus in which to center her thought uponGod. She walked with Him, and she much preferred the bright, sunlitout-of-doors in which to commune with Him. Josè explained the needof a central gathering place as a shelter from the hot sun. But theimages--the pictures of Saints and Virgin--and the Mass itself?

"They are what the people are accustomed to, dear child, to directtheir thought toward God, " he explained. "And we will use them untilwe can teach them something better. " He had omitted from the churchservice as far as possible the collects and all invocations addressedto the Virgin and the Saints, and had rendered it short and extremelysimple. Carmen seemed satisfied with his explanation, and with hisinsistence that, for the sake of appearance, she attend the Sundayservices. He would trust her God to guide them both. 

The days sped by silently and swiftly. Josè and the child dwelttogether apart from the world, in a universe purely mental. As hetaught her, she hung upon his every word, and seized the profferedtutelage with avidity. Often, after the day's work, Josè, in hiscustomary strolls about the little town, would come across the girl inthe doorway of a neighboring house, with a group of wide-eyedyoungsters about her, relating again the wonder-tales which she hadgathered from him. Marvelous tales they were, too, of knight and_hidalgo_, of court and camp, of fairies, pyxies, gnomes and sprites, of mossy legend and historic fact, bubbling from the girl's childishlips with an engaging _naïveté_ of interpretation that held the manenchanted. Even the schoolmaster, who had besought Josè in vain toturn Carmen over to him, was often a spellbound listener at theselittle gatherings. 

The result was that in a short time a delegation, headed by theAlcalde himself, waited upon Josè and begged him to lecture to thepeople of Simití in the church building at least two or three eveningsa week upon places and people he had seen in the great world of whichthey knew nothing. Josè's eyes were moist as he looked at the great, brawny men, stout of heart, but simple as children. He grieved to giveup his evenings, for he had formed the habit of late of devoting themto the study of his Bible, and to meditation on those ideas which hadso recently come to him. But the appeal from these innocent, untutoredpeople again quenched the thought of self, and he bade them be assuredthat their request was granted. 

The new ideas which had found entrance into Josè's liberated mentalityin the past few days had formed a basis on which he was not afraid tostand while teaching Carmen; and his entire instruction wasthenceforth colored by them. He knew not why, in all the precedingyears, such ideas had not come to him before. But he was to learn, some day, that his previous tenacious clinging to evil as a reality, together with his material beliefs and his worldly intellectuality, had stood as barriers at the portals of his thought, and kept thetruth from entering. His mind had been already full--but its contentswere unbelief, fear, the conviction of evil as real and operative, andthe failure to know God as immanent, omnipotent and perfect mind, towhom evil is forever unknown and unreal. Pride, egoism, and his morbidsense of honesty had added their portion to the already impassableobstruction at the gateway of his thought. And so the error had beenkept within, the good without. The "power of the Lord" had not beenabsent; but it had remained unapplied. Thus he had wandered throughthe desolate wilderness; but yet sustained and kept alive, that heshould not go down to the pit. 

Josè's days were now so crowded that he was forced to borrow heavilyfrom the night. The Alcalde continued his unctuous flattery, and thepriest, in turn, cultivated him assiduously. To that official's queryas to the restitution of the confessional in the church, the priestreplied that he could spare time to hear only such confessions fromhis flock as might be necessary to elicit from him the advice orassistance requisite for their needs. He was there to help them solvetheir life problems, not to pry into their sacred secrets; and theirconfessions must relate only to their necessities. 

The Alcalde went away with a puzzled look. Of a truth a new sort ofpriest had now to be reckoned with in Simití--a very different sortfrom Padre Diego. 

In the first days of Josè's incumbency he found many serious mattersto adjust. He had learned from Rosendo that not half the residents ofSimití were married to the consorts with whom they lived, and thatmany of the children who played in the streets did not know who theirfathers were. So prevalent was this evil condition that the customamong the men of having their initials embroidered upon the bosoms oftheir shirts was extended to include the initial of the mother'sfamily name. Josè had questioned Rosendo as to the meaning of theletters R. A. S. Upon his shirt. 

"The S, Padre, is the initial of my mother's family name. I am RosendoAriza, son of the daughter of Saurez. My parents were married by apriest. But half the people of Simití have never been reallymarried. "

Josè sought the cause of this dereliction. Fidel Avila was living witha woman, by whom he had three children. The priest summoned him to theparish house. 

"Fidel, " he questioned sternly, "Jacinta, the woman you live with, isyour wife?"

"Yes, _Señor Padre_. "

"And you were married by the Church?"

"No, Padre. "

"But was there a priest here when you began to live with Jacinta?"

"Yes, Padre. The _Cura_, Don Diego Polo, was here. "

"Then why were you not married by him? Do you not know how wicked itis to live as you are doing? Think of your children!"

"Yes, Padre, and I asked the _Cura_, Don Diego, to marry us. But hecharged twenty _pesos oro_ for doing it; and I could not afford it. Iloved Jacinta. And so we decided to live together without themarriage. "

"But--!" Josè stopped. He knew that the Church recognized no marriageunless it were performed by a priest. The civil magistrate had nojurisdiction in such a case. And a former priest's rapacity hadresulted in forcing illegitimacy upon half the children of thisbenighted hamlet, because of their parents' inability to afford theluxury of a canonical marriage. 

"Fidel, were your father and mother married?" he asked in kindertones. 

"I do not know, Padre. Only a few people in Guamocó can afford to payto be married. The men and women live together, perhaps for all time, perhaps for only a few months. If a man wishes to leave his woman andlive with another, he does so. If there are children, the woman alwayshas to keep and care for them. "

"And could you leave Jacinta if you wished, and live with anotherwoman?"

"Yes, Padre. "

"And she would have to lake care of your children?"

"Yes. "

"And all because you are not married?"

"I think so, Padre. "

"_Hombre!_ But that will do, Fidel. "

Oh, the sordid greed of those who abuse their sacred commission! Whatpunishment is mete for such as exploit these lowly folk in the name ofreligion! Josè strode off to consult the Alcalde. 

"Don Mario, the men in Simití who are living with women have _got_ tobe married to them! It is shameful! I shall make a canvass of the townat once!"

The Alcalde laughed. "_Costumbre_, Padre. You can't change it. "

_Costumbre del país!_ It is a final answer all through South America. No matter how unreasonable a thing may be, if it is the custom of thecountry it is a Medean law. 

"But you know this is subversive of Church discipline!" Josè retortedwarmly. "Look you, Don Mario, " he added suggestively, "you and I areto work together, are we not?"

The Alcalde blinked his pig eyes, but thought hard about La Libertad. _"Cierto, Señor Padre!"_ he hastened to exclaim. 

"Then I demand that you summon before me every man and woman who areliving together unmarried. "

With a thought single to his own future advantage, the wary Alcaldecomplied. Within the week following this interview Josè married twentycouples, and without charge. Some offered him a few _pesos_. These hetook and immediately turned over to Don Mario as treasurer of theparish. Those couples who refused to be married were forced by theAlcalde to separate. But of these there were few. Among them was oneJulio Gomez. Packing his few household effects upon his back, andmuttering imprecations against the priest, Gomez set out for thehills, still followed by his woman, with a babe slung over hershoulders and two naked children toddling at her bare heels. 

Verily, the ancient town was being profoundly stirred by the man whohad sought to find his tomb there. Gradually the people lost theirsuspicions and distrust, bred of former bitter experience withpriests, and joined heartily with Josè to ameliorate the social statusof the place. His sincere love for them, and his utter selflessness, secured their confidence, and ere his first month among them closed, he had won them, almost to a man. 

Meantime, six weeks had passed since Rosendo had departed to take uphis lonely task of self-renouncing love. Then one day he returned, worn and emaciated, his great frame shaking like a withered leaf in achill blast. 

"It is the _terciana_, Padre, " he said, as he sank shuddering uponhis bed. "It comes every third day. I went as far as Tachí--fiftyleagues from Simití--and there the fever overtook me. I have beeneight days coming back; and day before yesterday I ran out offood. Last evening I found a wild melon at the side of the trail. Acoral snake struck at me when I reached for it, but he hit my_machete_ instead. _Caramba!_"

Josè pressed his wet hand, while Doña Maria laid damp cloths upon hisburning forehead. 

"The streams are washed out, Padre, " Rosendo continued sadly. "Iworked at Colorado, Popales, and Tambora. But I got no more than five_pesos_ worth. And that will not pay for half of my supplies. It isthere in a little bag, " pointing to his soaked and muddy kit. 

Josè's heart was wrung by the suffering and disappointment of the oldman. Sadly he carried the little handful of gold flakes to Don Mario, and then returned to the exhausted Rosendo. 

All through the night the sick man tossed and moaned. By morning hewas delirious. Then Josè and Doña Maria became genuinely alarmed. Thetoil and exposure had been too much for Rosendo at his advanced age. In his delirium he talked brokenly of the swamps through which he hadfloundered, for he had taken the trail in the wet season, and fullyhalf of its one hundred and fifty miles of length was oozy and all butimpassable bog. 

By afternoon the fever had greatly increased. Don Mario shook his headas he stood over him. 

"I have seen many in that condition, Padre, and they didn't wake up!If we had quinine, perhaps he might be saved. But there isn't a flakein the town. "

"Then send Juan to Bodega Central at once for it!" cried Josè, wildwith apprehension. 

"I doubt if he would find it there either, Padre. But we can try. However, Juan cannot make the trip in less than two days. And I fearRosendo will not last that long. "

Doña Maria sat by the bedside, dumb with grief. Josè wrung his handsin despair. The day drew slowly to a close. The Alcalde had dispatchedJuan down to the river to signal any steamer that he should meet, ifperchance he might purchase a few grains of the only drug that couldsave the sick man. Carmen had absented herself during the day; butshe returned in time to assist Doña Maria with the evening meal, after which she went at once to her bed. 

Late at night, when the sympathizing townsmen had sorrowfully departedand Josè had induced Doña Maria to seek a few moments rest on her_petate_ in the living room, Carmen climbed quietly out of her bed andcame to where the priest sat alone with the unconscious Rosendo. 

Josè was bending over the delirious man. "Oh, if Jesus were only herenow!" he murmured. 

"Padre dear. "

Josè looked down into the little face beside him. 

"People don't die, you know. They don't really die. " The little headshook as if to emphasize the words. 

Josè was startled. But he put his arm about the child and drew her tohim. "_Chiquita_, why do you say that?" he asked sorrowfully. 

"Because God doesn't die, you know, " she quickly replied. "And we arelike Him, Padre, aren't we?"

"But He calls us to Him, _chiquita_. And--I guess--He is--is callingyour padre Rosendo now. "

Does God kill mankind in order to give them life? Is that His way?Death denies God, eternal Life. And--

"Why, no, Padre, " returned the innocent child. "He is always here; andwe are always with Him, you know. He can not call people away fromwhere He is, can He?"

_Lo, I am with you alway, even to the end of the world. _ TheChrist-principle, the saving truth about God and man, is ever presentin an uncomprehending world. 

Josè knew that there was no material dependence now. Something toldhim that Rosendo lay dying. There was no physician, no drug, in theisolated little town. There was none but God to save. And He--

But only sinners are taught by priests and preachers to look to Godfor help. The sick are not so taught. How much more deplorable, then, is their condition than that of the wicked!

"I told God out on the shales this afternoon that I just knew padreRosendo wouldn't die!" The soft, sweet voice hovered on the silencelike celestial melody. 

_If ye ask anything in my name_--in my character--_it shall be givenyou_. Carmen asked in the character of the sinless Christ, for herasking was an assertion of what she instinctively knew to be truth, despite the evidence of the physical senses. Her petitions wereaffirmations of Immanuel--God with us. 

"Carmen, " whispered the priest hoarsely, "go back to your bed, andknow, just _know_ that God is here! Know that He did not make padreRosendo sick, and that He will not let him die! Know it for him--andfor me!"

"Why, Padre, I know that now!" The child looked up into the priest'sface with her luminous eyes radiating unshaken trust--a trust thatseemed born of understanding. Yea, she knew that all good was there, for God is omnipotent. They had but to stretch forth their hands totouch the robe of His Christ. The healing principle which cleansed thelepers and raised the dead was even with them there in that quietroom. Josè had only to realize it, nothing doubting. Carmen had doneher work, and her mind now was stayed on Him. Infinite Intelligencedid not know Rosendo as Josè was trying to know him, sick and dying. God is Life--and there is no death!

Carmen was again asleep. Josè sat alone, his open Bible before him andhis thought with his God. 

Oh, for even a slight conception of Him who is Life! Moses worked "asseeing Him who is invisible. " Carmen lived with her eyes on Him, despite her dreary mundane encompassment. And Josè, as he sat therethroughout the watches of the night, facing the black terror, wasstriving to pierce the mist which had gone up from the face of theground and was separating him from his God. Through the long, darkhours, with the quiet of death upon the desolate chamber, he sat mutebefore the veil that was "still untaken away. "

What was it that kept telling him that Rosendo lay dying before him?Does matter talk? Did the serpent talk to Eve? Do fleshly nerves andfrail bodily organs converse with men? Can the externalization ofthought report back to the thought itself? Nay, the report came to himfrom the physical senses--naught else. And they reported--nothing! Hewas seeing but his own thoughts of mixed good and evil. And they werefalse, because they testified against God. 

Surely God knew Rosendo. But not as the physical senses were trying tomake Josè know him, sick and dying. Surely the subjective determinesthe objective; for as we think, so are we--the Christ said that. Fromhis human standpoint Josè was seeing his thoughts of a dying mortal. And now he was trying to know that those thoughts did not come fromGod--that they had no authority back of them--that they were childrenof the "one lie" about God--that they were false, false as hell, andtherefore impotent and unreal. 

What, then, had he to fear? Nothing, for truth is beyond the reach ofpersonal sense. So God and His ideas, reflected by the real Rosendo, were beyond the reach of evil. 

If this were true, then he must clear his own mentality--even as henow knew Carmen had done out on the shales that afternoon. He was nolonger dealing with a material Rosendo, but with false beliefs about ason of God. He was handling mental concepts. And to the serpent, error, he was trying to say: "What is your authority?"

If man lives, he never dies. If man is, then he always has been. Andhe was never born--and never passes into oblivion. A fact neverchanges. If two and two make four to-day, they always have done so, and always will. 

Can good produce evil? Then evil can have no creator. Rosendo, whenmoved by good, had gone into the wilds of Guamocó on a mission oflove. Did evil have power to smite him for his noble sacrifice?

What is this human life of ours? Real existence? No, but a sense ofexistence--and a false sense, for it postulates a god of evil opposedto the one supreme Creator of all that really is. Then the testimonythat said Rosendo must die was cruelly false. And, more, it waspowerless--unless Josè himself gave it power. 

Did Carmen know that? Had she so reasoned? Assuredly no! But she knewGod as Josè had never known Him. And, despite the testimony of thefleshly eyes, she had turned from physical sense to Him. 

"It is not practicable!" the world cries in startled protest. 

But, behold her life!

Josè had begun to see that discord was the result of unrighteousness, false thought. He began to understand why it was that Jesus alwayslinked disease with sin. His own paradoxical career had furnishedample proof of that. Yet his numberless tribulations were not duesolely to his own wrong thinking, but likewise to the wrong thought ofothers with respect to him, thought which he knew not how toneutralize. And the channels for this false, malicious, carnal thoughthad been his beloved parents, his uncle, the Archbishop, his tutors, and, in fact, all with whom he had been associated until he came toSimití. There he had found Carmen. And there the false thought had meta check, a reversal. The evil had begun to destroy itself. And he wasslowly awaking to find nothing but good. 

The night hours flitted through the heavy gloom like spectralacolytes. Rosendo sank into a deep sleep. The steady roll of the frogsin the lake at length died away. A flush stole timidly across theeastern sky. 

"Padre dear, he will not die. "

It was Carmen's voice that awoke the slumbering priest. The childstood at his side, and her little hand clasped his. Rosendo slept. His chest rose and fell with the rhythmic breathing. Josè looked downupon him. A great lump came into his throat, and his voice trembled ashe spoke. 

"You are right, _chiquita_. Go, call your madre Maria now, and I willgo home to rest. "

CHAPTER 13

That day Rosendo left his bed. Two days later he again set out forGuamocó. 

"There _is_ gold there, and I must, I _will_ find it!" he repeatedlyexclaimed as he pushed his preparations. 

The courage of the man was magnificent. On its rebound it carried himover the protest of Doña Maria and the gloomy forebodings of hisfellow-townsmen, and launched him again on the desolate trail. 

But Josè had uttered no protest. He moved about wrapped in undefinableawe. For he believed he had seen Rosendo lifted from the bed of death. And no one might tell him that it was not by the same power that longago had raised the dead man of Nain. Carmen had not spoken of theincident again; and something laid a restraint upon Josè's lips. 

The eyes of the Alcalde bulged with astonishment when Rosendo enteredhis store that morning in quest of further supplies. 

"_Caramba!_ Go back to your bed, _compadre_!" he exclaimed, boundingfrom his chair. "You are walking in your delirium!"

"_Na, amigo_, " replied Rosendo with a smile, "the fever has left me. And now I must have another month's supplies, for I go back to Guamocóas soon as my legs tremble less. "

_"Caramba! caramba!"_

The Alcalde acted as if he were in the presence of a ghost. But atlength becoming convinced that Rosendo was there on matters ofbusiness, and in his right mind, he checked further expression ofwonder and, with a shrug of his fat shoulders, assumed his wonted airof a man of large affairs. 

"I can allow you five _pesos oro_ on account of the gold which the_Cura_ brought me yesterday, " he said severely. "But that leaves youstill owing ten _pesos_ for your first supplies; and thirty if I giveyou what you ask for now. If you cannot pay this amount when youreturn, you will have to work it out for me. "

His little eyes grew steely and cold. Rosendo well knew what thethreat implied. But he did not falter. 

"_Bien, compadre_, " he quietly replied, "it will be as you say. "

Late that afternoon Juan returned from Bodega Central with a halfounce of quinine. He had made the trip with astonishing celerity, andhad arrived at the riverine town just as a large steamer was docking. The purser supplied him with the drug, and he immediately started onhis return. 

The Alcalde set out to deliver the drug to Rosendo; but not findinghim at home, looked in at the parish house. Josè and Carmen were deepin their studies. 

"A thousand pardons, _Señor Padre_, but I have the medicine youordered for Rosendo, " placing the small package upon the table. 

"You may set it down against me, Don Mario, " said Josè. 

"No!" exclaimed the Alcalde, "this must not be charged to theparish!"

"I said to me, _amigo_, " replied the priest firmly. 

"It is the same thing, Padre!" blurted the petty merchant. 

The priest's anger began to rise, but he restrained it. "Padre Diegois no longer here, you must remember, " he said quietly. 

"But the parish pays your debts; and it would not pay the full valueof this and Juan's trip, " was the coarse retort. 

"Very well, then, Don Mario, " answered Josè. "You may charge it toRosendo. But tell me first how much you will place against him forit. "

The Alcalde reflected a moment. "The quinine will be five _pesos oro_, and Juan's trip three additional. Is it not worth it?" he demanded, blustering before Josè's steady gaze. "If Rosendo had been really sickit would have saved his life!"

"Then you do not believe he was dangerously ill?" asked Josè with somecuriosity. 

"He couldn't have been really sick and be around to-day--could he?"the Alcalde demanded. 

The priest glanced at Carmen. She met the look with a smile. 

"No, " he said slowly, "not _really_ sick. " Then he quickly added:

"If you charge Rosendo eight _pesos_ for that bit of quinine, DonMario, you and I are no longer working together, for I do not takebase advantage of any man's necessities. "

The Alcalde became confused. He was going too far. "_Na, SeñorPadre_, " he said hastily, with a sheepish grin. "I will leave thequinine with you, and do you settle the account with Juan. " With whichhe beat a disordered retreat. 

Josè was thankful that, for a few months, at least, he would have apowerful hold on this man through his rapacity. What would happenwhen the Alcalde at length learned that Rosendo was not searching forDon Ignacio's lost mine, he did not care to conjecture. That matterwas in other hands than his, and he was glad to leave it there. Heasked now only to see each single step as he progressed. 

"Did Don Mario say that stuff would cure padre Rosendo?" asked Carmen, pointing to the quinine. 

"Yes, _chiquita_. "

"Why did he say so, Padre?"

"Because he really believed it, _carita_. "

"But what is it, Padre--and how can it cure sick people?"

"It is the bark of a certain tree, little one, that people take asmedicine. It is a sort of poison which people take to counteractanother poison. A great school of medicine is founded upon thatprinciple, Carmen, " he added. And then he fell to wondering if itreally was a principle, after all. If so, it was evil overcoming evil. But would the world believe that both he and Rosendo had been curedby--what? Faith? True prayer? By the operation of a great, almostunknown principle? Or would it scoff at such an idea?

But what cared he for that? He saw himself and Rosendo restored, andthat was enough. He turned to the child. "They think the quinine curesfever, little one, " he resumed. 

"And does it?" The little face wore an anxious look as she put thequestion. 

"They think it does, _chiquita_, " replied the priest, wondering whathe should say. 

"But it is just because they think so that they get well, isn't it?"the girl continued. 

"I guess it is, child. "

"And if they thought right they would be cured without this--is it notso, Padre dear?"

"I am sure of it--now, " replied the priest. "In fact, if they alwayskept their thoughts right I am sure they would never be sick. "

"You mean, if they always thought about God, " the child amended. 

"Yes--I mean just that. If they knew, _really knew_, that God iseverywhere, that He is good, and that He never makes people sick, theywould always be well. "

"Of course, Padre. It is only their bad thoughts that make them sick. And even then they are not really sick, " the child concluded. "Theythink they are, and they think they die--and then they wake up andfind it isn't so at all. "

Had the child made this remark to him a few weeks before, he hadcrushed it with the dull, lifeless, conventional formulæ of humanbelief. To-day in penitent humility he was trying to walk hand in handwith her the path she trod. For he was learning from her thatrighteousness is salvation. A few weeks ago he had lain at death'sdoor, yearning to pass the portal. Yesterday he believed he had againseen the dark angel, hovering over the stricken Rosendo. But in eachcase _something_ had intervened. Perhaps that "something not ourselvesthat makes for righteousness, " the unknown, almost unacknowledgedforce that ceases not to combat evil in the human consciousness. Clinging to his petty egoisms; hugging close his shabby convictions ofan evil power opposed to God; stuffed with worldly learning and prideof race and intellect, in due season, as he sank under the burden ofhis imaginings, the veil had been drawn aside for a fleetingmoment--and his soul had frozen with awe at what it beheld!

For, back of the density of the human concept, the fleeting, inexplicable medley of good and evil which constitutes the phenomenonof mortal existence, _he had seen God_! He had seen Him as all-inclusivemind, omnipotent, immanent, perfect, eternal. He had caught a moment'sglimpse of the tremendous Presence which holds all wisdom, allknowledge, yet knows no evil. He had seen a blinding flash of that"something" toward which his life had strained and yearned. With it hadcome a dim perception of the falsity of the testimony of physicalsense, and the human life that is reared upon it. And though hecounted not himself to have apprehended as yet, he was struggling, even with thanksgiving, up out of his bondage, toward the gleam. Theshafts of error hissed about him, and black doubt and chill despairstill felled him with their awful blows. But he walked with Carmen. Withhis hand in hers, he knew he was journeying toward God. 

On the afternoon before his departure Rosendo entered the parish housein apprehension. "I have lost my _escapulario_, Padre!" he exclaimed. "The string caught in the brush, and the whole thing was torn from myneck. I--I don't like to go back without one, " he added dubiously. 

"Ah, then you have nothing left but Christ, " replied Josè with fineirony. "Well, it is of no consequence. "

"But, Padre, it had been blessed by the Bishop!"

"Well, don't worry. Why, the Holy Father himself once blessed thisrepublic of ours, and now it is about the most unfortunate country inthe whole world! But you are a good Catholic, Rosendo, so you need notfear. "

Rosendo was, indeed, a good Catholic. He accepted the faith of hisfathers without reserve. He had never known any other. Simple, superstitious, and great of heart, he held with rigid credulity toall that had been taught him in the name of religion. But until Josè'sadvent he had feared and hated priests. Nevertheless, his faith insigns and miracles and the healing power of blessed images waschild-like. Once when he saw in the store of Don Mario a coloredchromo of Venus and Cupid, a cheap print that had come with goodsimported from abroad, he had devoutly crossed himself, believing it tobe the Virgin Mary with the Christ-child. 

"But I will fix you up, Rosendo, " said Josè, noting the man's genuineanxiety. "Have Doña Maria cut out a cloth heart and fasten it to astout cord. I will take it to the church altar and bless it before theimage of the Virgin. You told me once that the Virgin was the Rincónfamily's patron, you know. "

"_Bueno!_" ejaculated the pleased Rosendo, as he hastened off toexecute the commission. 

Several times before Rosendo went back to Guamocó Josè had sought todraw him into conversation about his illness, and to get his view ofthe probable cause of his rapid recovery. But the old man seemed loathto dwell on the topic, and Josè could get little from him. At anymention of the episode a troubled look would come over his face, andhe would fall silent, or would find an excuse to leave the presence ofthe priest. 

"Rosendo, " Josè abruptly remarked to him as he was busy with his packlate the night before his departure, "will you take with you thequinine that Juan brought?"

Rosendo looked up quickly. "I can not, Padre. "

"And why?"

"On account of Carmen. "

"But what has she to do with it, _amigo_?" Josè asked in surprise. 

Rosendo looked embarrassed. "I--_Bien_, Padre, I promised her I wouldnot. "

"When?"

"To-day, Padre. "

Josè reflected on the child's unusual request. Then:

"But if you fell sick up in Guamocó, Rosendo, what could you do?"

"_Quien sabe_, Padre! Perhaps I could gather herbs and make a tea--Idon't know. She didn't say anything about that. " He looked at Josè andlaughed. Then, in an anxious tone:

"Padre, what can I do? The little Carmen asks me not to take thequinine, and I can not refuse her. But I may get sick. I--I havealways taken medicine when I needed it and could get it. But the onlymedicine we have in Simití is the stuff that some of the womenmake--teas and drinks brewed from roots and bark. I have never seen adoctor here, nor any real medicines but quinine. And even that is hardto get, as you know. I used to make a salve out of the livers of_mápina_ snakes--it was for the rheumatism--I suffered terribly when Iworked in the cold waters in Guamocó. I think the salve helped me. Butif I should get the disease now, would Carmen let me make the salveagain?"

He bent over his outfit for some moments. "She says if I trust God Iwill not get sick, " he at length resumed. "She says I must not thinkabout it. _Caramba!_ What has that to do with it? People get sickwhether they think about it or not. Do you believe, Padre, this new_escapulario_ will protect me?"

The man's words reflected the strange mixture of mature and childishthought typical of these untutored jungle folk, in which longing forthe good is so heavily overshadowed by an educated belief in the powerof evil. 

"Rosendo, " said Josè, finding at last his opportunity, "tell me, doyou think you were seriously ill day before yesterday?"

"_Quien sabe_, Padre! Perhaps it was only the _terciana_, after all. "

"Well, then, " pursuing another tack, "do you think I was very sickthat day when I rushed to the lake--?"

"_Caramba_, Padre! But you were turning cold--you hardly breathed--weall thought you must die--all but Carmen!"

"And what cured me, Rosendo?" the priest asked in a low, steadyvoice. 

"Why--Padre, I can not say. "

"Nor can I, positively, my friend. But I do know that the littleCarmen said I should not die. And she said the same of you when, as Iwould swear, you were in the fell clutches of the death angelhimself. "

"Padre--" Rosendo's eyes were large, and his voice trembled in awesomewhisper--"is she--the little Carmen--is she--an _hada_?"

"A witch? _Hombre!_ No!" cried Josè, bursting into a laugh at theperturbed features of the older man. "No, _amigo_, she is not an_hada_! Let us say, rather, as you first expressed it to me, she is anangel--and let us appreciate her as such. 

"But, " he continued, "I tell you in all seriousness, there are thingsthat such as you and I, with our limited outlook, have never dreamedof; and that child seems to have penetrated the veil that hidesspiritual things from the material vision of men like us. Let us wait, and if we value that '_something_' which she seems to possess and knowhow to use, let us cut off our right hands before we yield to thetemptation to place any obstacle in the way of her development alongthe lines which she has chosen, or which some unseen Power has chosenfor her. It is for you and me, Rosendo, to stand aside and watch, while we protect her, if haply we may be privileged some day to learnher secret in full. You and I are the unlearned, while she is filledwith wisdom. The world would say otherwise, and would condemn us asfools. Thank God we are out of the world here in Simití!"

He choked back the inrush of memories and brushed away a tear. 

"Rosendo, " he concluded, "be advised. If Carmen told you not to thinkof sickness while in Guamocó, then follow her instructions. It is notthe child, but a mighty Power that is speaking through her. Of that Ihave long been thoroughly convinced. And I am as thoroughly convincedthat that same Power has appointed you and me her protectors and herfollowers. You and I have a mighty compact--"

"_Hombre!_" interrupted Rosendo, clasping the priest's hand, "my lifeis hers--you know it--she has only to speak, and I obey! Is it notso?"

"Assuredly, Rosendo, " returned Josè. "And now a final word. Let uskeep solely to ourselves what we have learned of her. Our plans arewell formulated. Let us adhere to them in strict silence. I know notwhither we are being led. But we are in the hands of that 'something'that speaks and works through her--and we are satisfied. Are we not?"

They clasped hands again. The next morning Rosendo set his face oncemore toward the emerald hills of Guamocó. 

As the days passed, Josè became more silent and thoughtful. But it wasa silence bred of wonder and reverence, as he dwelt upon the thingsthat had been revealed to him. Who and what was this unusual child, sohuman, and yet so strangely removed from the world's plane of thought?A child who understood the language of the birds, and heard the grassgrow--a child whom Torquemada would have burnt as a witch, and yetwith whom he could not doubt the Christ dwelt. 

Josè often studied her features while she bent over her work. He spenthours, too, poring over the little locket which had been found amongher mother's few effects. The portrait of the man was dim and soiled. Josè wondered if the poor woman's kisses and tears had blurred it. Thepeople of Badillo said she had died with it pressed to her lips. Butits condition rendered futile all speculation in regard to itsoriginal. That of the mother, however, was still fresh and clear. Josèconjectured that she must have been either wholly Spanish, or one ofthe more refined and cultured women of Colombia. And she haddoubtless been very young and beautiful when the portrait was made. With what dark tragedy was that little locket associated? Would itever yield its secret?

But Carmen's brown curls and light skin--whence came they? Were theywholly Latin? Josè had grave doubts. And her keen mind, and deepreligious instinct? Who knew? He could only be sure that they had comefrom a source far, far above her present lowly environment. With thatmuch he must for the present be content. 

 * * * * *

Another month unfolded its length in quiet days, and Rosendo againreturned. Not ill this time, nor even much exhausted. Nor did thelittle leathern pouch contain more than a few _pesos_ in gold dust. But determination was written grim and trenchant upon his black faceas he strode into the parish house and extended his great hand to thepriest. 

"I have only come for more supplies, Padre, " he said. "I have somethree _pesos_ worth of gold. Most of this I got around Culata, nearDon Felipe's quartz vein, the Andandodias. _Caramba_, what veins inthose hills! If we had money to build a mill, and knew how to catchthe gold, we would not need to wash the river sands that have beengone over again and again for hundreds of years!"

But Josè's thoughts were of the Alcalde. He determined to send for himat once, while Rosendo was removing the soil of travel. 

Don Mario came and estimated the weight of the gold by his hand. Thenhe coolly remarked: "_Bien, Señor Padre_, I will send Rosendo to my_hacienda_ to-morrow to cut cane and make _panela_. "

"And how is that, Don Mario?" inquired Josè. 

The Alcalde began to bluster. "He owes me thirty _pesos oro_, lessthis, if you wish me to keep it. I see no likelihood that he can everrepay me. And so he must now work out his debt. "

"How long will that take him, _amigo_?"

"_Quien sabe?_ _Señor Padre_, " the Alcalde replied, his eyesnarrowing. 

The priest braced himself, and his face assumed an expression that ithad not worn before he came to Simití. "Look you now, my friend, " hebegan in tones pregnant with meaning. "I have made some inquiriesregarding your system of peonage. I find that you pay your _peones_from twenty to thirty cents a day for their hard labor, and at thesame time charge them as much a day for food. Or you force them to buyfrom you tobacco and rum at prices which keep them always in yourdebt. Is it not so?"

"_Na_, Padre, you have been misinformed, " the Alcalde demurred, with adeprecating gesture. 

"I have not. Lázaro Ortiz is now working for you on that system. Anddaily he becomes more deeply indebted to you, is it not so?"

"But, Padre--"

"It is useless for you to deny it, Don Mario, for I have facts. Nowlisten to me. Let us understand each other clearly, nor attempt todissimulate. That iniquitous system of peonage has got to cease in myparish!"

"_Caramba_, but Padre Diego had _peones_!" the Alcalde exploded. 

"And he was a wicked man, " added Josè. Then he continued:

"I know not what information you may have from the Bishop regardingme, yet this I tell you: I shall report you to Bogotá, and I will bandthe citizens of Simití together to drive you out of town, if you donot at once release Lázaro, and put an end to this wicked practice. The people will follow if I lead!"

It was a bold stroke, and the priest knew that he was standing uponshaky ground. But the man before him was superstitious, untutored andchild-like. A show of courage, backed by an assertion of authority, might produce the desired effect. Moreover, Josè knew that he was inthe right. And right must prevail!

Don Mario glared at him, while an ugly look spread over his coarsefeatures. The priest went on:

"Lázaro has long since worked out his debt, and you shall release himat once. As to Rosendo, he must have the supplies he needs to returnto Guamocó. You understand?"

"_Caramba!_" Don Mario's face was purple with rage. "You think you cantell me what to do--me, the Alcalde!" he volleyed. "You think you canmake us change our customs! _Caramba!_ You are no better than thepriest Diego, whom you try to make me believe so wicked! _Hombre_, youwere driven out of Cartagena yourself! A nice sort to be teaching alittle girl--!"

"Stop, man!" thundered Josè, striding toward him with upraised arm. 

Don Mario fell back in his chair and quailed before the mountainouswrath of the priest. 

A shadow fell across the open doorway. Glancing up, Josè saw Carmen. For a moment the girl stood looking in wonder at the angry men. Thenshe went quickly to the priest and slipped a hand into his. A feelingof shame swept over him, and he went back to his chair. Carmen leanedagainst him, but she appeared to be confused. Silence fell upon themall. 

"Cucumbra doesn't fight any more, Padre, " the girl at length began inhesitation. "He and the puppy play together all the time now. He haslearned a lot, and now he loves the puppy. "

So had the priest learned much. He recalled the lesson. "_Bien_, " hesaid in soft tones, "I think we became a bit too earnest, Don Mario. We are good friends, is it not so? And we are working together for thegood of Simití. But to have good come to us, we must do good toothers. "

He went to his trunk and took out a wallet. "Here are twenty _pesos_, Don Mario. " It was all he had in the world, but he did not tell theAlcalde so. "Take them on Rosendo's account. Let him have the newsupplies he needs, and I will be his surety. And, friend, you aregoing to let me prove to you with time that the report you have fromCartagena regarding me is false. "

Don Mario's features relaxed somewhat when his hand closed over thegrimy bills. 

"Do not forget, _amigo_, " added Josè, assuming an air of mystery as hepursued the advantage, "that you and I are associated in variousbusiness matters, is it not so?"

The Alcalde's mouth twitched, but finally extended in an unctuousgrin. After all, the priest was a descendant of the famous DonIgnacio, and--who knew?--he might have resources of which the Alcaldelittle dreamed. 

"_Cierto, Padre!_" he cried, rising to depart. "And we will yetuncover La Libertad! You guarantee Rosendo's debt? _Bien_, he shallhave the supplies. But I think he should take another man with him. Lázaro might do, no?"

It was a gracious and unlooked for condescension. 

"Send Lázaro to me, Don Mario, " said Josè. "We will find use for him, I think. "

And thus Rosendo was enabled to depart a third time to the solitudesof Guamocó. 

CHAPTER 14

With Rosendo again on the trail, Josè and Carmen bent once more totheir work. Within a few days the grateful Lázaro was sent toRosendo's _hacienda_, biding the time when the priest should have alarger commission to bestow upon him. With the advent of the dryseason, peace settled over the sequestered town, while its artlessfolk drowsed away the long, hot days and danced at night in thesilvery moonlight to the twang of the guitar and the drone of theamorous canzonet. Josè was deeply grateful for these days of unbrokenquiet, and for the opportunity they afforded him to probe the child'sthought and develop his own. Day after day he taught her. Night afternight he visited the members of his little parish, getting betteracquainted with them, administering to their simple needs, talking tothem in the church edifice on the marvels of the outside world, andthen returning to his little cottage to prepare by the feeble rays ofhis flickering candle Carmen's lessons for the following day. He hadno texts, save the battered little arithmetic; and even that wasabandoned as soon as Carmen had mastered the decimal system. Thereafter he wrote out each lesson for her, carefully wording it thatit might contain nothing to shock her acute sense of the allness ofGod, and omitting from the vocabulary every reference to evil, tofailure, disaster, sin and death. In mathematics he was sure of hisground, for there he dealt wholly with the metaphysical. But historycaused him many an hour of perplexity in his efforts to purge it ofthe dross of human thought. If Carmen were some day to go out into theworld she _must_ know the story of its past. And yet, as Josè facedher in the classroom and looked down into her unfathomable eyes, inwhose liquid depths there seemed to dwell a soul of unexampled purity, he could not bring himself even to mention the sordid events in thedevelopment of the human race which manifested the darker elements ofthe carnal mind. Perhaps, after all, she might never go out into theworld. He had not the faintest idea how such a thing could beaccomplished. And so under his tutelage the child grew to know a worldof naught but brightness and beauty, where love and happiness dweltever with men, and wicked thoughts were seen as powerless andtransient, harmless to the one who knew God to be "everywhere. " Theman taught the child with the sad remembrance of his own seminarytraining always before him, and with a desire, amounting almost tofrenzy, to keep from her every limiting influence and benumbing beliefof the carnal mind. 

The decimal system mastered, Carmen was inducted into the elements ofalgebra. 

"How funny, " she exclaimed, laughing, "to use letters for numbers!"

"They are only general symbols, little one, " he explained. "Symbolsare signs, or things that stand for other things. "

Then came suddenly into his mind how the great Apostle Paul taughtthat the things we see, or think we see, are themselves but symbols, reflections as from a mirror, and how we must make them out as bestwe can for the present, knowing that, in due season, we shall see therealities for which these things stand to the human mind. He knew thatback of the mathematical symbols stood the eternal, unvarying, indestructible principles which govern their use. And he had begun tosee that back of the symbols, the phenomena, of human existence standsthe great principle--infinite God--the eternal mind. In the realm ofmathematics the principles are omnipotent for the solution ofproblems--omnipotent in the hands of the one who understands and usesthem aright. And is not God the omnipotent principle to the one whounderstands and uses Him aright in the solving of life's intricateproblems?

"They are so easy when you know how, Padre dear, " said Carmen, referring to her tasks. 

"But there will be harder ones, _chiquita_. "

"Yes, Padre. But then I shall know more about the rules that you callprinciples. "

She took up each problem with confidence. Josè watched her eagerly. "You do not know what the answer will be, _chiquita_, " he ventured. 

"No, Padre dear. But I don't care. If I use the rule in the right wayI shall get the correct answer, shall I not? Look!" she criedjoyfully, as she held up her paper with the completed solution of aproblem. 

"But how do you know that it is correct?" he queried. 

"Why--well, we can prove it--can't we?" She looked up at himquestioningly. Then she bent again over her task and workedassiduously for some moments in silence. 

"There! I worked it back again to the starting point. And it isright. "

"And in proving it, little one, you have proved the principle andestablished its correctness. Is it not so, _chiquita_?"

"Yes, Padre, it shows that the rule is right. "

The child lapsed into silence, while Josè, as was becoming his wont, awaited the result of her meditation. Then:

"Padre dear, there are rules for arithmetic, and algebra, and--and foreverything, are there not?"

"Yes, child, for music, for art, for everything. We can do nothingcorrectly without using principles. "

"And, Padre, there are principles that tell us how to live?" shequeried. 

"What is your opinion on that point, _queridita_?"

"Just _one_ principle, I guess, Padre dear, " she finally ventured, after a pause. 

"And that, little one?"

"Just God. "

"And God is--?" Josè began, then hesitated. The Apostle John had dweltwith the Master. What had he urged so often upon the dull ears of histimid followers?

The child looked up at the priest with a smile whose tendernessdissolved the rising clouds of doubt. 

"And God is--love, " he finished softly. 

"That's it, Padre!" The child clapped her little hands and laughedaloud. 

Love! Jesus had said, "I and my Father are one. " Having seen him, theworld has seen the Father. But Jesus was the highest manifestation oflove that tired humanity has ever known. "Love God!" he had cried intones that have echoed through the centuries. "Love thy neighbor!"Aye, love everything, everybody! Apply the Principle of principles, Love, to every task, every problem, every situation, every condition!For what is the Christ-principle but Love? All things are possible tohim who loves, for Love casteth out fear, the root of every discord. Men ask why God remains hidden from them, why their understanding ofHim is dim. They forget that God is Love. They forget that to know Himthey must first love their fellow-men. And so the world goessorrowfully on, hating, cheating, grasping, abusing; still wonderingdully why men droop and stumble, why they consume with disease, and, with the despairing conviction that God is unknowable, sinking at lastinto oblivion. 

Josè, if he knew aught, knew that Carmen greatly loved--loved allthings deeply and tenderly as reflections of her immanent God. She hadloved the hideous monster that had crept toward her as she satunguarded on the lake's rim. Unguarded? Not so, for the arms of Lovewere there about her. She had loved God--good--with unshaken fealtywhen Rosendo lay stricken. She had known that Love could not manifestin death when he himself had been dragged from the lake that burningafternoon a few weeks before. 

"God is the rule, isn't He, Padre dear?" The child's unexampled eyesglowed like burning coals. "And we can prove Him, too, " she continuedconfidently. 

_Prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not openyou the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing that thereshall not be room enough to receive it. _

Prove Him, O man, that He is Love, and that Love, casting out hate andfear, solves life's every problem! But first--_Bring ye all the tithesinto the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house. _ Bring yourwhole confidence, your trust, your knowledge of the allness of good, and the nothingness of evil. Bring, too, your every earthly hope, every mad ambition, every corroding fear, and carnal belief; lay themdown at the doorway of mine storehouse, and behold their nothingness!

As Carmen approached her simple algebraic problems Josè saw theworking of a rule infinite in its adaptation. She knew not what theanswers should be, yet she took up each problem with supremeconfidence, knowing that she possessed and rightly understood the rulefor correctly solving it. She knew that speculation regarding theprobable results was an idle waste of time. And she likewise knewinstinctively that fear of inability to solve them would paralyze herefforts and insure defeat at the outset. 

Nor could she force solutions to correspond to what she might thinkthey ought to be--as mankind attempt to force the solving of theirlife problems to correspond to human views. She was glad to work outher problems in the only way they could be solved. Love, humility, obedience, enabled her to understand and correctly apply the principleto her tasks. The results were invariable--harmony and exceeding joy. 

Josè had learned another lesson. Again that little hand had softlyswept his harp of life. And again he breathed in unison with itsvibrating chords a deep "Thank God!"

"Padre dear. " Carmen looked up from a brown study. "What does zeroreally mean?"

"It stands for nothing, child, " the priest made reply, wondering whatwas to follow this introduction. 

"And the minus sign in algebra is different from the one inarithmetic. What does it mean?"

"Less than nothing. "

"But, Padre, if God is all, how can you say there is nothing, or lessthan nothing?"

The priest had his answer ready. "They are only human ways ofthinking, _chiquita_. The plus sign always represents somethingpositive; the minus, something negative. The one is the opposite ofthe other. "

"Is there an opposite to everything, Padre?"

The priest hesitated. Then:

"No, _chiquita_--not a _real_ opposite. But, " he added hastily, "wemay suppose an opposite to everything. "

A moment's pause ensued. "That is what makes people sick and unhappy, isn't it, Padre?"

"What, child?" in unfeigned surprise. 

"Supposing an opposite to God. Supposing that there can be nothing, when He is everywhere. Doesn't all trouble come from just supposingthings that are not so?"

Whence came such questions to the mind of this child? And why did theyinvariably lead to astonishing deductions in his own? Why did heoften give a great start as it dawned again upon him that he was nottalking to one of mature age, but to a babe?

He tore a strip from the paper in his hand. Relatively the paper hadlost in size and quantity, and there was a distinct separation. Absolutely, such a thing was an impossibility. The plus was alwayspositive and real; the minus was always relative, and stood forunreality. And so it was throughout the entire realm of thought. _Every real thing has its suppositional opposite. _ The difficulty isthat the human mind, through long ages of usage, has come to regardthe opposite as just as real as the thing itself. The opposite of loveis hate; of health, disease; of good, evil; of the real, thecounterfeit. God is positive--Truth. His opposite, the negative, issupposition. Oh, stupid, blundering, dull-eared humanity, not to haverealized that this was just what Jesus said when he defined evil asthe lie about God! No wonder the prophet proclaimed salvation to berighteousness, right thinking! But would gross humanity haveunderstood the Master better if he had defined it this way? No, theywould have stoned him on the spot!

Josè knew that when both he and Rosendo lay sick unto death Carmen'sthought had been positive, while theirs had been of the opposite sign. Was her pure thought stronger than their disbelief? Evidently so. Wasthis the case with Jesus? And with the prophets before him, whom theworld laughed to scorn? The inference from Scripture is plain. What, then, is the overcoming of evil but the driving out of entrenchedhuman beliefs?

Again Josè came back to the thought of Principle. Confucius had saidthat heaven was principle. And heaven is harmony. But had evil anyprinciple? Mankind are accustomed to speak lightly and knowingly oftheir "principles. " But in their search for the Philosopher's Stonethey have overlooked the Principle which the Master used to effect hismighty works--"that Mind which was in Christ Jesus. " The Principle ofJesus was God. And, again, God is Love. 

The word evil is a comprehensive term, including errors of every sort. And yet, in the world's huge category of evils is there a single onethat stands upon a definite principle? Josè had to admit to himselfthat there was not. Errors in mathematics result from ignorance ofprinciples, or from their misapplication. But are the errors real andpermanent?

"Padre, when I make a mistake, and then go back and do the problemover and get it right, what becomes of the mistake?"

Josè burst out laughing at the tremendous question. Carmen joined inheartily. 

"But, Padre, " she pursued, "there are rules for solving problems; butthere isn't any rule or principle for making mistakes, is there?"

"Surely not, child!" Josè replied. 

"And if I always knew the truth about things, I couldn't makemistakes, could I?"

"No. "

Josè waited for her further comments. They came after a briefmeditation. 

"Well, then, God doesn't know anything about mistakes--does He?"

"No, _chiquita_. "

"And He knows everything. "

"Yes. "

"Then, Padre dear, nobody can know anything about mistakes. Peoplejust think they can--don't they?"

Josè thought hard for a few moments. "_Chiquita_, can you know thattwo and two are seven?"

"Why, Padre dear, how funny!"

"Yes--it does seem strange--now. And yet, I used to think I could knowthings just as absurd. "

"Why, what was that, Padre?"

"I thought, _chiquita_, that I could know evil--something that Goddoes not and can not know. "

"But--could you, Padre?"

"No, child. It is absolutely impossible to know--to really _know_--errorof any sort. "

"If we knew it, Padre, it would have a rule; or as you say, aprinciple, no?"

"Exactly, child. "

"And, since God is everywhere, He would have to be its principle. "

"Just the point. Now take another of the problems, _chiquita_, andwork on it while I think about these things, " he said, assigninganother of the simple tasks to the child. 

For an idea was running through the man's thought, and he had tracedit back to the explorer in Cartagena. Reason and logic supported thethought of God as mind; of the creation as the unfolding of thismind's ideas; and of man as the greatest idea of God. It also seemedto show that the physical senses afforded no testimony at all, andthat human beings saw, heard and felt only in thought, in belief. Onthis basis everything reduced to a mental plane, and man became amentality. But what sort of mentality was that which Josè saw allabout him in sinful, sick and dying humanity? The human man isdemonstrably mortal--and he is a sort of mind--ah, yes, that was it!The explorer had said that up in that great country north there werethose who referred to this sort of mentality as "mortal mind. " Josèthought it an excellent term. For, if the mortal man is a mind at all, he assuredly is a _mortal_ mind. 

And the mortal mind is the opposite of that mind which is the eternalGod. But God can have no real opposite. Any so-called opposite to Himmust be a supposition--or, as Jesus defined it, the lie about Him. This lie seems to counterfeit the eternal mind that is God. It seemsto pose as a creative principle, and to simulate the powers andattributes of God himself. It assumes to create its universe ofmatter, the direct opposite of the spiritual universe. And, likewise, it assumes to create its man, its own idea of itself, and hence thedirect opposite of the real man, the divine idea of God, made in Hisown image and likeness. 

Josè rose and went to the doorway. "Surely, " he murmured low, "thematerial personality, called man, which sins, suffers and dies, is notreal man, but his counterfeit, a creation of God's opposite, theso-called mortal mind. It must be a part of the lie about God, the'mist' that went up from the ground and watered the whole face of theearth, leaving the veil of supposition which obscures God from humansight. It is this sort of man and this sort of universe that I havealways seen about me, and that the world refers to as human beings, ormortals, and the physical universe. And yet I have been looking onlyat my false thoughts of man. "

At that moment he caught sight of Juan running toward him from thelake. The lad had just returned from Bodega Central. 

"Padre, " he exclaimed breathlessly, "there is war in the countryagain! The revolution has broken out, and they are fighting all alongthe river!"

Josè turned into the house and clasped Carmen in his arms. 

CHAPTER 15

Juan's startling announcement linked Josè again with a fading past. Standing with his arm about Carmen, while the child looked upwonderingly at her grimly silent protector, the priest seemed to havefallen with dizzy precipitation from some spiritual height into afamiliar material world of men and events. Into his chastenedmentality there now rushed a rabble rout of suggestions, throwing intowild confusion the orderly forces of mind which he was striving tomarshal to meet the situation. He recalled, for the first time in hisnew environment, the significant conversation of Don Jorge and thepriest Diego, in Banco. He saw again the dark clouds that werelowering above the unhappy country when he left Cartagena. Had they atlast broken? And would carnal lust and rapine again drench fairColombia with the blood of her misguided sons? Were the disturbanceonly a local uprising, headed by a coterie of selfish politicians, itwould produce but a passing ripple. Colombia had witnessed many such, and had, by a judicious redistribution of public offices, generallymet the crises with little difficulty. On the other hand, if thedisorder drew its stimulus from the deep-seated, swelling sentiment ofprotest against the continued affiliation of Church and State, thenwhat might not ensue before reason would again lay her restraininghand upon the rent nation! For--strange anomaly--no strife is sovenomous, no wars so bloody, no issues so steeped in deadliest hatred, as those which break forth in the name of the humble Christ. 

A buzzing concourse was gathering in the _plaza_ before the church. Leaving Carmen in charge of Doña Maria, Josè mingled with the excitedpeople. Juan had brought no definite information, other than thatalready imparted to Josè, but his elastic Latin imagination hadsupplied all lacking essentials, and now, with much gesticulation androlling of eyes, with frequent alternations of shrill chatter anddignified pomp of phrase, he was portraying in a _mélange_ ofpicturesque and poetic Spanish the supposed happenings along the greatriver. 

Josè forced the lad gently aside and addressed the thoroughly excitedpeople himself, assuring them that no reliable news was as yet athand, and bidding them assemble in the church after the evening meal, where he would advise with them regarding their future course. He thensought the Alcalde, and drew him into his store, first closing thedoor against the excited multitude. 

"_Bien, Señor Padre_, what are you going to do?" The Alcalde wasatremble with insuppressible excitement. 

"Don Mario, we must protect Simití, " replied the priest, with a showof calm which he did not possess. 

"_Caramba_, but not a man will stay! They will run to the hills! The_guerrillas_ will come, and Simití will be burned to the ground!"

"Will you stay--with me?"

"_Na_, and be hacked by the _machetes_ of the _guerrillas_, or lassoedby government soldiers and dragged off to the war?" The officialmopped the damp from his purple brow. 

"_Caramba!_" he went on. "But the Antioquanians will come down theSimití trail from Remedios and butcher every one they meet! Theyhate us Simitanians, since we whipped them in the revolution ofseventy-six! And--_Diablo_! if we stay here and beat them back, then the federal troops will come with their ropes and chains andforce us away to fight on their side! _Nombre de Dios!_ I am for themountains--_pronto_!"

Josè's own fear mounted by leaps. And yet, in the welter ofconflicting thought two objects stood out above the rest--Carmen andRosendo. The latter was on the trail, somewhere. Would he fall afoulof the bandits who find in these revolutions their opportunities forplunder and bloodshed? As for Carmen--the priest's apprehensions werepiling mountain-high. He had quickly forgotten his recent theoriesregarding the nature of God and man. He had been swept by the force ofill tidings clean off the lofty spiritual plane up to which he hadstruggled during the past weeks. Again he was befouled in the mire ofmaterial fears and corroding speculations as to the probablemanifestations of evil, real and immanent. Don Mario was right. Hemust take the child and fly at once. He would go to Doña Mariaimmediately and bid her prepare for the journey. 

"You had best go to Don Nicolás, " replied Doña Maria, when the priesthad voiced his fears to her. "He lives in Boque, and has a _hacienda_somewhere up that river. He will send you there in his canoe. "

"And Boque is--?"

"Three hours from Simití, across the shales. You must start with thedawn, or the heat will overtake you before you arrive. "

"Then make yourself ready, Doña Maria, " said Josè in relief, "and wewill set out in the morning. "

"Padre, I will stay here, " the woman quietly replied. 

"Stay here!" ejaculated the priest. "Impossible! But why?"

"There will be many women too old to leave the town, Padre. I willstay to help them if trouble comes. And I would not go withoutRosendo. "

Shame fell upon the priest like a blanket. He, the _Cura_, wasdeserting his charge! And this quiet, dignified woman had shownherself stronger than the man of God! He turned to the door. Carmenwas just entering. He took the child by the hand and led her to hisown cottage. 

"Carmen, " he said, as she stood expectantly before him, "we--there istrouble in the country--that is, men are fighting and killing down onthe river--and they may come here. We must--I mean, I think it bestfor us to go away from Simití for a while. " The priest's eyes fellbefore the perplexed gaze of the girl. 

"Go away?" she repeated slowly. "But, Padre--why?"

"The soldiers might come--wicked men might come and harm you, _chiquita_!"

The child seemed not to comprehend. "Is it that you think they will, Padre?" she at length spoke. 

"I fear so, little one, " he made reply. 

"But--why should they?"

"Because they want to steal and kill, " he returned sadly. 

"They can't, Padre--they can't!" the girl said quickly. "You told methat people see only their thoughts, you know. They only think theywant to steal--and they don't think right--"

"But, " he interrupted bitterly, "that doesn't keep them from cominghere just the same and--and--" He checked his words, as a faint memoryof his recent talks with the girl glowed momentarily in his seethingbrain. 

"But we can keep them from coming here, Padre--can't we?"

"How, child?"

"By thinking right ourselves, Padre--you said so, days ago--don't youremember?" The girl came to the frightened man and put her little armabout his neck. It was an action that had become habitual with her. "Padre dear, you read me something from your Bible just yesterday. Itwas about God, and He said, 'I am that which was, and is, and is tocome. ' Don't you remember? But, Padre dear, if He is that which is tocome, how can anything bad come?"

O, ye of little faith! Could ye not watch one hour with me--theChrist-principle? Must ye ever flee when the ghost of evil stalksbefore you with his gross assumptions?

Yes, Josè remembered. But he had said those things to her and evolvedthose beautiful theories in a time of peace. Now his feeble faith wasflying in panic before the demon of unbelief, which had been arousedby sudden fear. 

The villagers were gathering before his door like frightened sheep. They sought counsel, protection, from him, the unfaithful shepherd. Could he not, for their sakes, tear himself loose from bondage to hisown deeply rooted beliefs, and launch out into his true orbit aboutGod? Was life, happiness, all, at the disposal of physical sense? Didhe not love these people? And could not his love for them cast out hisfear? If the test had come, would he meet it, calmly, even alone withhis God, if need be?--or would he basely flee? He was not alone. Carmen stood by him. She had no part in his cowardice. But Carmen--shewas only a child, immature, inexperienced in the ways of the world!True. Yet the great God himself had caused His prophets to see that "alittle child shall lead them. " And surely Carmen was now leading infearlessness and calm trust, in the face of impending evil. 

Josè rose from his chair and threw back his shoulders. He steppedquickly to the door. "My children, " he said gently, holding out hisarms over them. "Be not afraid. I shall not leave Simití, butremain here to help and protect all who will stay with me. If the_guerrillas_ or soldiers come we will meet them here, where we shallbe protecting our loved ones and our homes. Come to the churchto-night, and there we will discuss plans. Go now, and rememberthat your _Cura_ has said that there shall no harm befall you. "

Did he believe his own words? He wondered. 

The people dispersed; Carmen was called by Doña Maria; and Josèdropped down upon his bed to strive again to clear his mind of thefoul brood which had swept so suddenly into it, and to prepare for theevening meeting. 

Late that night, as he crossed the road from the church to hislittle home, his pulse beat rapidly under the stimulus of real joy. Hehad conquered his own and the fears of the Alcalde, and thatofficial had at length promised to stay and support him. Thepeople's fears of impressment into military service had been calmlymet and assuaged, though Josè had yielded to their wish to form acompany of militia; and had even agreed to drill them, as he hadseen the troops of Europe drilled and prepared for conflict. Therewere neither guns nor ammunition in the town, but they could drillwith their _machetes_--for, he repeated to himself, this was but aconcession, an expedient, to keep the men occupied and their mindsstimulated by his own show of courage and preparedness. It wasdecided to send Lázaro Ortiz at once into the Guamocó district, tofind and warn Rosendo; while Juan was to go to Bodega Central forwhatever news he might gather, and to return with immediate warning, should danger threaten their town. Similar instruction was to besent to Escolastico, at Badillo. Within a few days a runner should bedespatched over the Guamocó trail, to spread the information asjudiciously as possible that the people of Simití were armed andon the alert to meet any incursion from _guerrilla_ bands. The rippleof excitement quickly died away. The priest would now strivemightily to keep his own thought clear and his courage alive, tosustain his people in whatever experience might befall them. 

Quiet reigned in the little village the next morning, and its peoplewent about their familiar duties with but a passing thought of theevents of the preceding day. The Alcalde called at the parish houseearly for further instructions in regard to the proposed company ofmilitia. The priest decided to drill his men twice a day, at therising and setting of the sun. Carmen's lessons were then resumed, andsoon Josè was again laboring conscientiously to imbibe the spirit ofcalm trust which dwelt in this young girl. 

The Master's keynote before every threatening evil was, "Be notafraid. " Carmen's life-motif was, "_God is everywhere. _" Josè stroveto see that the Christ-principle was eternal, and as available tomankind now as when the great Exemplar propounded it to the dull earsof his followers. But men must learn how to use it. When they havedone this, Christianity will be as scientific and demonstrable tomankind as is now the science of mathematics. A rule, thoughunderstood, is utterly ineffective if not applied. Yet, how to applythe Christ-principle? is the question convulsing a world to-day. 

God, the infinite creative mind, is that principle. Jesus showedclearly--so clearly that the wonder is men could have missed the markso completely--that the great principle becomes available only whenmen empty their minds of pride, selfishness, ignorance, and humanwill, and put in their place love, humility and truth. This steptaken, there will flow into the human consciousness the qualities ofGod himself, giving powers that mortals believe utterly impossible tothem. But hatred must go; self-love, too; carnal ambition must go; andfear--the cornerstone of every towering structure of mortalmisery--must be utterly cast out by an understanding of the allness ofthe Mind that framed the spiritual universe. 

Josè, looking at Carmen as she sat before him, tried to know that lovewas the salvation, the righteousness, right-thinking, by which alonethe sons of men could be redeemed. The world would give such utterancethe lie, he knew. To love an enemy is weakness! The sons of earth mustbe warriors, and valiantly fight! Alas! the tired old world has foughtfor ages untold, and gained--nothing. Did Jesus fight? Not as theworld. He had a better way. He loved his enemies with a love thatunderstood the allness of God, and the consequent nothingness of thehuman concept. Knowing the concept of man as mortal to be an illusion, Jesus then knew that he had no enemies. 

The work-day closed, and Carmen was about to leave. A shadow fellacross the open doorway. Josè looked up. A man, dressed in clericalgarb, stood looking in, his eyes fixed upon Carmen. Josè's heartstopped, and he sat as one stunned. The man was Padre Diego Polo. 

"Ah, brother in Christ!" the newcomer cried, advancing withoutstretched hands. "Well met, indeed! I ached to think I might notfind you here! But--_Caramba_! can this be my little Carmen, fromwhom I tore myself in tears four years ago and more? _Diablo!_ but shehas grown to be a charming _señorita_ already. " He bent over andkissed the child loudly upon each cheek. 

Josè with difficulty restrained himself from pouncing upon the man ashe watched him pass his fat hands over the girl's bare arms and feasthis lecherous eyes upon her round figure and plump limbs. The childshrank under the withering touch. Freeing herself, she ran from theroom, followed by a taunting laugh from Diego. 

"_Caramba!_" he exclaimed, sinking into the chair vacated by the girl. "But I had the devil's own trouble getting here! And I find everythingquiet as a funeral in this sink of a town, just as if hell were notspewing fire down on the river! _Dios!_ But give me a bit of rum, _amigo_. My spirits droop like the torn wing of a heron. "

Josè slowly found his voice. "I have no rum. I regret exceedingly, friend. But doubtless the Alcalde can supply you. Have you seen him?"

"_Hombre!_ With what do you quench your thirst?" ejaculated thedisappointed priest. "Lake water?" Then he added with a fatuous grin:

"No, I have not yet honored the Alcalde with a call. Anxious caredrove me straight from the boat to you; for with you, a brotherpriest, I knew I would find hospitality and protection. "

Josè sat speechless. After a few moments, during which he fannedhimself vigorously with his black felt hat, Diego continued volubly:

"You are consumed to know what brings me here, eh? _Bien_, I willanticipate your questions. The country is on fire around Banco. And--you know they do not love priests down that way--well, I saw thatit had come around to my move. I therefore got out--quickly. H'm!

"But, " he continued, "luckily I had screwed plenty of Masses out ofthe Banco sheep this past year, and my treasure box was comfortablyfull. _Bueno_, I hired a canoe and a couple of strapping _peones_, whobrought me by night, and by damnably slow degrees, up the river toBodega Central. As luck would have it, I chanced to be there the dayJuan arrived from Simití. So I straightway caused inquiry to be madeof him respecting the present whereabouts of our esteemed friend, DonRosendo. Learning that my worthy brother was prospecting for LaLibertad, it occurred to me that this decaying town might afford methe asylum I needed until I could make the necessary preparations toget up into the mountains. _Caramba!_ but I shall not stay where astray bullet or a badly directed _machete_ may terminate my noblelife-aspirations!"

Josè groaned inwardly. "But, how dared you come to Simití?" heexclaimed. "You were once forced to leave this town--!"

"Assuredly, _amigo_, " Diego replied with great coolness. "And I wouldnot risk my tender skin again had I not believed that you were here toshield me. My only safety lies in making the mountains. Their mostaccessible point is by way of Simití. From here I can go to the SanLucas country; eventually get back to the Guamocó trail; andultimately land in Remedios, or some other town farther south, wherethe anticlerical sentiment is not so cursedly strong. I have money andtwo negro boys. The boat I shall have to leave here in your care. _Bien_, learning that Rosendo, my principal annoyance and obstruction, was absent, and that you, my friend, were here, I decided to brave thewrath of the simple denizens of this hole, and spend a day or two asguest of yourself and my good friend, the Alcalde, before journeyingfarther. Thus you have it all, in _parvo_. But, _Dios y diablo_! thattrip up the river has nearly done for me! We traveled by night and hidin the brush by day, where millions of gnats and mosquitoes literallydevoured me! _Caramba!_ and you so inhospitable as to have no rum!"

The garrulous priest paused for breath. Then he resumed:

"A voluptuous little wench, that Carmen! Keeping her for yourself, eh?But you will have to give her up. Belongs to the Church, you know. Butdon't let our worthy Don Wenceslas hear of her good looks, for he'dpop her into a convent _presto_! And later he--_Bien_, you had betterget rid of her before she makes you trouble. I'll take her off yourhands myself, even though I shall be traveling for the next fewmonths. But, say, " changing the subject abruptly, "Don Wenceslassprung his trap too soon, eh?"

"I don't follow you, " said Josè, consuming with indignation over thepriest's coarse talk. 

"_Diablo!_ he pulls a revolution before it is ripe. Is anything moreabsurd! It begins as he intended, anticlerical; and so it will run fora while. But after that--_Bien_, you will see it reverse itself andturn solely political, with the present Government on top at the last, and the end a matter of less than six weeks. "

"Do you think so?" asked Josè, eagerly grasping at a new hope. 

"I know it!" ejaculated Diego. "_Hombre!_ But I have been too close tomatters religious and political in this country all my life not toknow that Don Wenceslas has this time committed the blunder of beinga bit too eager. Had he waited a few months longer, and then pulledthe string--_Dios y diablo_! there would have been such a fracas as toturn the Cordilleras bottom up! Now all that is set back foryears--_Quien sabe_?"

"But, " queried the puzzled Josè, "how could Wenceslas, a priest, profit by an anticlerical war?"

"_Caramba, amigo!_ But the good Wenceslas is priest only in name! Heis a politician, bred to the game. He lays his plans with theanticlericals, knowing full well that Church and State can not beseparated in this land of mutton-headed _peones_. _Bueno_, the cleverman precipitates a revolution that can have but one result, the closerunion of Rome and the Colombian Government. And for this he receivesthe direction of the See of Cartagena and the disposition of the richrevenues from the mines and _fincas_ of his diocese. Do you get me?"

"And, _amigo_, how long will this disturbance continue?" said Josè, speaking earnestly. 

"I have told you, a few weeks at the most, " replied Diego with a showof petulance. "But, just the same, as agent of your friend Wenceslas, I have been a mite too active along the river, especially in the townof Banco, to find safety anywhere within the pale of civilizationuntil this little fracas blows over. This one being an abortion, thenext revolution can come only after several years of most painstakingpreparation. But, mark me, _amigo_, that one will not miscarry, norwill it be less than a scourge of the Lord!"

Despite the sordidness of the man, Josè was profoundly grateful to himfor this information. And there could be no doubt of its authenticity, coming as it did from a tool of Wenceslas himself. Josè becamecheerful, even animated. 

"Good, then! Now when do you expect to set out for San Lucas?" heasked. "Rosendo may return any day. "

"_Diablo!_ Then I must be off at once!"

"To-morrow?" suggested Josè eagerly. 

"_Caramba, hermano!_ Why so desirous of my departure? To be sure, to-morrow, if possible. But I must have a chat with our good friend, the Alcalde. So do me the inexpressible favor to accompany me to hisdoor, and there leave me. My _peones_ are down at the boat, and Iwould rather not face the people of Simití alone. "

"Gladly, " assented Josè. 

The man rose to depart. At that moment Doña Maria appeared at the doorbearing a tray with Josè's supper. She stopped short as she recognizedDiego. 

"Ah, _Señora Doña Maria_!" exclaimed Diego, bowing low. "I kiss yourhand. "

The woman looked inquiringly from Diego to Josè. Without a word sheset the tray on the table and quickly departed. 

"H'm, _amigo_, I think it well to visit the Alcalde at once, " murmuredDiego. "I regret that I bring the amiable señora no greeting from hercharming daughter. _Ay de mí!_" he sighed, picking up his hat. "Theconventions of this world are so narrow!"

Don Mario exclaimed loudly when he beheld the familiar figure of PadreDiego. Recovering from his astonishment he broke into a loud guffawand clapped the grinning priest heartily upon the back. 

"_Caramba_, man! But I admire you at last! I can forgive all yourwickedness at sight of such nerve! Ramona!" calling to his daughter inthe _patio_. "That last _garrafón_ and some glasses! But enter, enter, señores! Why stand you there? My poor hovel is yours!" stepping asideand ceremoniously waving them in. 

"Our friend finds that his supper awaits him, " said Diego, laying ahand patronizingly upon Josè's arm. "But I will eat with you, my goodDon Mario, and occupy a _petate_ on your floor to-night. _Conque_, until later, Don Josè, " waving a polite dismissal to the latter. "Ifnot to-night, then in the morning _temprano_. "

The audacity of the man nettled Josè. He would have liked to bepresent during the interview between the Alcalde and this cunningreligio-political agent, for he knew that the weak-kneed Don Mariowould be putty in his oily hands. However, Diego had shown him that hewas not wanted. And there was nothing to do but nurse his temper andawait events. 

But, whatever deplorable results the visit of Diego might entail, hehad at least brought present comfort to Josè in his report of themilitant uprising now in progress, and the latter would sleep thisnight without the torment of dread apprehension. 

The next morning Diego entered the parish house just as master andpupil were beginning their day's work. 

"Ha!" he exclaimed, "our parochial school is quite discriminating! No?One pupil! _Bien_, are there not enough children in the town towarrant a larger school, and with a Sister in charge? I will reportthe matter to the good Bishop. "

Josè's wrath leaped into flame. "There is a school here, as you know, _amigo_, with a competent master, " he replied with what calmness hecould muster. 

It was perhaps a hasty and unfortunate remark, for Josè knew he hadbeen jealously selfish with Carmen. 

"_Caramba_, yes!" retorted Diego. "A private school, to which thestubborn beasts that live in this sink will not send their brats!There must be a parochial school in Simití, supported by the people!Oh, don't worry; there is gold enough here, buried in _patios_ andunder these innocent-looking mud walls, to support the Pope for adecade--and that, " he chuckled, "is no small sum!"

His eyes roved over Carmen and he began a mental appraisement of thegirl. "_Caramba!_" muttering half to himself, after he had feasted hissight upon her for some moments, "but she is large for her age--and, _Dios y diablo!_ a ravishing beauty!"

He stood for a while wrapped in thought. Then an idea seemed to filterthrough his cunning brain. His coarse, unmoral face brightened, andhis thick lips parted in an evil smile. 

"Come here, little one, " he said patronizingly, extending his arms tothe child. "Come, give your good _Padre_ his morning kiss. "

The girl shrank back in her chair and looked appealingly at Josè. 

"No? Then I must come and steal it; and when you confess to good PadreJosè you may tell him it was all my fault. "

He started toward her. A look of horror came into the child's face andshe sprang from her seat. Josè swiftly rose. He seized Diego by theshoulder and whirled him quickly about. His face was menacing and hisframe trembled. 

"One moment, friend!" The voice was low, tense, and deliberate. "Ifyou lay a hand on that child I will strike you dead at my feet!"

Diego recoiled. _Cielo!_ was this the timid sheep that had stopped fora moment in Banco on its way to the slaughter? But there was nomistaking the spirit manifested now in that voice and attitude. 

"Why, _amigo_!" he exclaimed, a foolish grin splitting his uglyfeatures. "Your little joke startled me!"

Josè motioned Carmen to leave. 

"Be seated, Don Diego. It would be well to understand each other morethoroughly. "

Had Josè gone too far? He wondered. Heaven knew, he could not affordto make enemies, especially at this juncture! But he had not misreadthe thought coursing through the foul mind of Diego. And yet, violencenow might ruin both the child and himself. He must be wiser. 

"I--I was perhaps a little hasty, _amigo_, " he began in gentler tones. "But, as you see, I have been quite wrought up of late--the news ofthe revolution, and--in these past months there have been many thingsto cause me worry. I--"

"Say no more, good friend, " interrupted the oily Diego, his beady eyestwinkling. "But you will not wonder it struck me odd that a fathershould not be permitted to embrace his own daughter. "

Dead silence, heavy and stifling, fell upon Josè. Slowly his throatfilled, and his ears began to throb. Diego sat before him, smiling andtwirling his fat thumbs. He looked like the images of Chinese godsJosè had seen in foreign lands. 

Then the tortured man forced a laugh. Of course, the strain ofyesterday had been too much for him! His overwrought mind had readinto words and events meanings which they had not been meant toconvey. 

"True, _amigo_, " he managed to say, striving to steady his voice. "Butwe spiritual Fathers should not forget--"

Diego laughed egregiously. "_Caramba_, man! Let us get to the meat inthe nut. Why do you think I am in Simití, braving the wrath of Rosendoand others? Why have I left my comfortable quarters in Banco, toundertake a journey, long and hazardous, to this godless hole?"

He paused, apparently enjoying the suffering he saw depicted uponJosè's countenance. 

"I will tell you, " he resumed. "But you will keep my confidence, no?We are brother priests, and must hold together. You protect me inthis, and I return the favor in a like indiscretion. _Bien_, Iexplain: I am here partly because of the revolution, as I told youyesterday, and partly, as I did not tell you, to see my little girl, my daughter, Carmen--

"_Caramba_, man!" he cried, bounding to his feet, as he saw Josèslowly rise before him. "Listen! It is God's truth! Sit down! Sitdown!"

Josè dropped back into his chair like a withered leaf in the lull of awinter's wind. 

"_Dios y diablo_, but it rends me to make this confession, _amigo_!And yet, I look to you for support! The girl, Carmen--_I am herfather!_"

Diego paced dramatically up and down before the scarce hearing Josèand unfolded his story in a quick, jerky voice, with many a gestureand much rolling of his bright eyes. 

"Her mother was a Spanish woman of high degree. We met in Bogotá. Myvows prevented me from marrying her, else I should have done so. _Caramba_, but I loved her! _Bien_, I was called to Cartagena. Shefeared, in her delicate state, that I was deserting her. She tried tofollow me, and at Badillo was put off the boat. There, poor child, shepassed away in grief, leaving her babe. May she rest forever on thebosom of the blessed Virgin!" Diego bowed reverently and crossedhimself. 

"Then I lost all trace of her. My diligent inquiries revealed nothing. Two years later I was assigned to the parish of Simití. Here I saw thelittle locket which I had given her, and knew that Carmen was mychild. Ah, _Dios!_ what a revelation to a breaking heart! But I couldnot openly acknowledge her, for I was already in disgrace, as youknow. And, once down, it is easy to sink still further. I confess, Iwas indiscreet here. I was forced to fly. Rosendo's daughter followedme, despite my protests. I was assigned to Banco. _Bien_, time passed, and you came. I had hoped you would take the little Carmen under yourprotection. God, how I grieved for the child! At last I determined, come what might, to see her. The revolution drove me to the mountains;and love for my girl brought me by way of Simití. And now, _amigo_, you have my confession--and you will not be hard on me? _Caramba_, Ineed a friend!" He sat down, and mopped his wet brow. His talk hadshaken him visibly. 

Again oppressive silence. Josè was staring with unseeing eyes outthrough the open doorway. A stream of sunlight poured over the dustythreshold, and myriad motes danced in the golden flood. 

"_Bien, amigo_, " Diego resumed, with more confidence. "I had notthought to reveal this, my secret, to you--nor to any one, for thatmatter--but just to get a peep at my little daughter, and assure myanxious heart of her welfare. But since coming here and seeing howmature she is my plans have taken more definite shape. I shall leaveat daybreak to-morrow, if Don Mario can have my supplies ready on thisshort notice, and--will take Carmen with me. "

Josè struggled wearily to his feet. The color had left his face, andages seemed to bestride his bent shoulders. His voice quavered as heslowly spoke. 

"Leave me now, Don Diego. It were better that we should not meet againuntil you depart. "

"But, _amigo_--ah, I feel for you, believe me! You are attached to thechild--who would not be? _Caramba_, what is this world but a cemeteryof bleaching hopes! But--how can I ask it? _Amigo_, send the child tome at the house of the Alcalde. I would hold her in my arms and feel afather's joy. And bid the good Doña Maria make her ready forto-morrow's journey. "

Josè turned to the man. An ominous calm now possessed him. "Yousaid--the San Lucas district?"

"_Quien sabe?_ good friend, " Diego made hasty reply. "My plans seemquite altered since coming here. _Bien_, we must see. But I will leaveyou now. And you will send Carmen to me at once? And bid her bringher mother's locket. _Conque, hasta luego, amigo. _"

He went to the door, and seeing his two negro _peones_ loitering near, walked confidently and briskly to the house of Don Mario. 

Josè, bewildered and benumbed, staggered into his sleeping room andsank upon the bed. 

 * * * * *

"Padre--Padre dear. "

Carmen stood beside the stricken priest, and her little hand creptinto his. 

"I watched until I saw him go, and then I came in. He has badthoughts, hasn't he? But--Padre dear, what is it? Did he make youthink bad thoughts, too? He can't, you know, if you don't want to. "

She bent over him and laid her cheek against his. Josè stared unseeingup at the thatch roof. 

"Padre dear, everything has a rule, a principle, you told me. Don'tyou remember? But his thoughts haven't any principle, have they? Anymore than the mistakes I make in algebra. Aren't we glad we knowthat!"

The child kissed the suffering man and wound her arms about his neck. 

"Padre dear, he couldn't say anything that could make you unhappy--hejust couldn't! God is _everywhere_, and you are His child--and I am, too--and--and there just isn't anything here but God, and we are inHim. Why, Padre, we are in Him, just like the little fish in the lake!Isn't it nice to know that--to really _know_ it?"

Aye, if he had really known it he would not now be stretched upon abed of torment. Yet, Carmen knew it. And his suffering was for her. Was he not really yielding to the mesmerism of human events? Why, oh, why could he not remain superior to them? Why continually rise andfall, tossed through his brief years like a dry weed in the blast?

It was because he _would_ know evil, and yield to its mesmerism. Hisenemies were not without, but within. How could he hope to be freeuntil he had passed from self-consciousness to the sole consciousnessof infinite good?

"Padre dear, his bad thoughts have only the minus sign, haven'tthey?"

Yes, and Josè's now carried the same symbol of nothingness. Carmen waslinked to the omnipresent mind that is God; and no power, be it Diegoor his superior, Wenceslas, could effect a separation. 

But if Carmen was Diego's child, she must go with him. Josè could nolonger endure this torturing thought. He rose from the bed and soughtDoña Maria. 

"Señora, " he pleaded, "tell me again what you know of Carmen'sparents. "

The good woman was surprised at the question, but could add nothing towhat Rosendo had already told him. He asked to see again the locket. Alas! study it as he might, the portrait of the man was whollyindistinguishable. The sweet, sad face of the young mother looked outfrom its frame like a suffering. Magdalen. In it he thought he saw aresemblance to Carmen. As for Diego, the child certainly did notresemble him in the least. But years of dissipation and evil doubtlesshad wrought their changes in his features. 

He looked around for Carmen. She had disappeared. He rose and searchedthrough the house for her. Doña Maria, busy in the kitchen, had notseen her leave. His search futile, he returned with heavy heart to hisown house and sat down to think. Mechanically he opened his Bible. 

_When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee. _ Not "if, "but "when. " The sharp experiences of human existence are not to beavoided. But in their very midst the Christ-principle is available tothe faithful searcher and worker. 

Doña Maria came with the midday meal. Carmen had not returned. Josè, alarmed beyond measure, prepared to set out in search of her. But atthat moment one of Diego's _peones_ appeared at the door with hismaster's request that the child be sent at once to him. At least, then, she was not in his hands; and Josè breathed more freely. Itseemed to him that, should he see her in Diego's arms, he mustcertainly strangle him. He shuddered at the thought. Only a fewminutes before he had threatened to kill him!

He left his food untasted. Unspeakably wearied with his incessantmental battle, he threw himself again upon his bed, and at length sankinto a deep sleep. 

The shadows were gathering when he awoke with a start. He heard a callfrom the street. Leaping from the bed, he hastened to the door, justas Rosendo, swaying beneath his pack, and accompanied by Lázaro Ortiz, rounded the corner and made toward him. 

_"Hola, amigo Cura!"_ Rosendo shouted, his face radiant. "Come and bidme welcome, and receive good news!"

At the same moment Carmen came flying toward them from the directionof the shales. Josè instantly divined the motive which had sent herout there. He turned his face to hide the tears which sprang to hiseyes. 

"Thank God!" he murmured in a choking voice. Then he hastened to hisfaithful ally and clasped him in his arms. 

CHAPTER 16

Struggling vainly with his agitation, while the good tidings which hecould no longer hold fairly bubbled from his lips, Rosendo dragged thepriest into the parish house and made fast the doors. Swinging hischair to the floor, he hastily unstrapped his kit and extracted acanvas bag, which he handed to Josè. 

"Padre, " he exclaimed in a loud whisper, "we have found it!"

"Found what?" the bewildered Josè managed to ask. 

"Gold, Padre--gold! Look, the bag is full! _Hombre!_ not lessthan forty _pesos oro_--and more up there--quien sabe how much!_Caramba!_"

Rosendo fell into a chair, panting with excitement. Josè sat down withquickening pulse and waited for the full story. It was not longcoming. 

"Padre--I knew we would find it--but not this way! _Hombre!_ It wasback of Popales. I had been washing the sands there for two days aftermy return. There was a town at that place, years ago. The stonefoundations of the houses can still be seen. The Tiguí was rich atthat point then; but it is washed out now. _Bien_, one morning Istarted out at daybreak to prospect Popales creek, the little streamcutting back into the hills behind the old settlement. There was aheavy mist over the whole valley, and I could not see ten feet beforemy face. _Bien_, I had gone up-stream a long distance, perhaps severalmiles, without finding more than a few colors, when suddenly the mistbegan to clear, and there before me, only a few feet away, stood ayoung deer, just as dumfounded as I was. "

He paused a moment for breath, laughing meanwhile at the memory of hissurprise. Then he resumed. 

"_Bueno_, fresh venison looked good to me, Padre, living on salt_bagre_ and beans. But I had no weapon, save my _machete_. So I letdrive with that, and with all my strength. The big knife struck thedeer on a leg. The animal turned and started swiftly up the mountainside, with myself in pursuit. _Caramba_, that was a climb! But withhis belly chasing him, a hungry man will climb anything! Through palmsand ferns and high weeds, falling over rocks and tripping on groundvines we went, clear to the top of the hill. Then the animal turnedand plunged down a glen. On the descent it traveled faster, and in afew minutes had passed clean from my sight. _Caramba_, I was angry!"

He stopped to laugh again at the incident. 

"The glen, " he continued, "ran down for perhaps a hundred yards, andthen widened into a clearing. I have been in the Popales country manytimes, Padre, but I had never been to the top of this mountain, norhad I ever seen this glen, which seemed to be an ancient trail. So Iwent on down toward the clearing. As I approached it I crossed whatapparently was the bed of an ancient stream, dry now, but with manypools of water from the recent rains, which are very heavy in thatregion. _Bien_, I turned and followed this dry bed for a longdistance, and at last came out into the open. I found myself in acircular space, surrounded by high hills, with no opening but thestream bed along which I had come. At the far end of the basin-shapedclearing the creek bed stopped abruptly; and I then knew that thewater had formerly come over the cliff above in a high waterfall, buthad flowed in a direction opposite to that of Popales creek, thismountain being the divide. 

"_Bueno_; now for my discovery! I several times filled my _batea_ withgravel from the dry bed and washed it in one of the pools. I got onlya few scattered colors. But as I dug along the margin of the bed Inoticed what seemed to be pieces of adobe bricks. I went on up oneside of the bowl-shaped glen, and found many such pieces, and in someplaces stones that had served as foundations for houses at one time. So I knew that there had been a town there, long, long ago. But itmust have been an Indian village, for had it been known to theSpaniards I surely would have learned of it from my parents. Theground higher up was strewn with the broken bricks. I picked up manyof the pieces and examined them. Almost every one showed a color ortwo of gold; but not enough to pay washing the clay from which theyhad been made. But--and here is the end of my story--I have said thatthis open space was shaped like a bowl, with all sides dipping sharplyto the center. It occurred to me that in the years--who knows howmany?--that have passed since this town was abandoned, the heavy rainsthat had dissolved the mud bricks also must have washed the mud andthe gold it carried down into the center of this basin, where, withgreat quantities of water sweeping over it every rainy season, theclay and sand would gradually wash out, leaving the gold concentratedin the center. "

The old man stopped to light the thick cigar which he had rolledduring his recital. 

"_Caramba!_ Padre, it was a lucky thought! I located the center of thebig bowl as nearly as possible, and began to dig. I washed some of thedirt taken a foot or two below the surface. Hombre! it left a stringof gold clear around the _batea_! I became so excited I could scarcelydig. Every batea, as I got deeper and deeper, yielded more and moregold! I hurried back to the Tiguí for my supplies; and then camped upthere and washed the sand and clay for two weeks, until I had to comeback to Simití for food. Forty _pesos oro_ in fifteen days! _Caramba!_And there is more. And all concentrated from the mud bricks of thatold, forgotten town in the mountains, miles back of Popales! May theVirgin bless that deer and mend its hurt leg!"

One hundred and sixty francs in shining gold flakes! And who knew howmuch more to be had for the digging!

"Ah, Padre, " mused Rosendo, "it is wonderful how things turn out--thatis, when, as the little Carmen says, you think right! I thought I'dfind it--I knew it was right! And here it is! _Caramba!_"

At the mention of Carmen's name Josè again became troubled. Rosendo asyet did not know of Diego's presence in Simití. Should he tell him? Itmight lead to murder. Rosendo would learn of it soon enough; and Josèdared not cast a blight upon the happiness of this rare moment. Hewould wait. 

As they sat reunited at the supper table in Rosendo's house, aconstant stream of townspeople passed and repassed the door, somestopping to greet the returned prospector, others lingering to witnessRosendo's conduct when he should learn of Diego's presence in thetown, although no one would tell him of it. The atmosphere was tensewith suppressed excitement, and Josè trembled with dread. Doña Mariamoved quietly about, giving no hint of the secret she carried. Carmenlaughed and chatted, but did not again mention the man from whosepresence she had fled to the shales that morning. Who could doubt thatin the midst of the prevalent mental confusion she had gone out there"_to think_"? And having performed that duty, she had, as usual, lefther problem with her immanent God. 

"I will go up and settle with Don Mario this very night, " Rosendoabruptly announced, as they rose from the table. 

"Not yet, friend!" cried Josè quickly. "Lázaro has told you of therevolution; and we have many plans to consider, now that we have foundgold. Come with me to the shales. We will not be interrupted there. Wecan slip out through the rear door, and so avoid these curious people. I have much to discuss with you. "

Rosendo chuckled. "My honest debts first, _buen Cura_, " he saidsturdily. And throwing back his shoulders he strutted about the roomwith the air of a plutocrat. With his bare feet, his soiled, flappingattire, and his swelling sense of self-importance he cut a comicalfigure. 

"But, Rosendo--" Josè was at his wits' end. Then a happy thoughtstruck him. "Why, man! I want to make you captain of the militia weare forming, and I must talk with you alone first!"

The childish egotism of the old man was instantly touched. 

_"Capitán! el capitán!"_ he cried in glee. He slapped his chest andstrode proudly around the room. "_Caramba! Capitán Don Rosendo Ariza, S!_ Ha! Shall I carry a sword and wear gold braid?--But these fellowsare mighty curious, " he muttered, looking out through the door at theloitering townsfolk. "The shales, then, Padre! Close the front door, Carmencita. "

Josè scarcely breathed until, skirting the shore of the lake andmaking a detour of the town, he and Rosendo at length reached theshale beds unnoticed. 

"Rosendo, the gold deposit that you have discovered--is it safe? Couldothers find it?" queried Josè at length. 

"Never, Padre! No trail leads to it. And no one would think of lookingthere for gold. I discovered it by the merest chance, and I left notrace of my presence. Besides, there are no gold hunters in thatcountry, and very few people in the entire district of Guamocó. "

"And how long will it take you to wash out the deposit, do youthink?"

"_Quien sabe?_ Padre. A year--two years--perhaps longer. "

"But you cannot return to Guamocó until the revolution is over. "

"_Bien_, Padre, I will remain in Simití a week or two. We may thenknow what to expect of the revolution. "

"You are not afraid?"

"Of what? _Caramba_, no!"

Josè sighed. No one seemed to fear but himself. 

"Rosendo, about the gold for Cartagena: how can we send it, even whenpeace is restored?"

"Juan might go down each month, " Rosendo suggested. 

"Impossible! The expense would be greater than the amount shipped. Andit would not be safe. Besides, our work must be done with the utmostsecrecy. No one but ourselves must know of your discovery. And no oneelse in Simití must know where we are sending the gold. Rosendo, it isa great problem. "

"_Caramba_, yes!"

The men lapsed into profound meditation. Then:

"Rosendo, the little Carmen makes great progress. "

"_Por supuesto!_ I knew she would. She has a mind!"

"Have you no idea, Rosendo, who her parents might have been?"

"None whatever, Padre. "

"Has it ever occurred to you, Rosendo, that, because of her deeplyreligious nature, possibly her father was a priest?"

"_Caramba, no!_" ejaculated Rosendo, turning upon Josè. "What putsthat into your head, _amigo_?"

"As I have said, Rosendo, " Josè answered, "her religious instinct. "

"_Bien, Señor Padre_, you forget that priests are not religious. "

"But some are, Rosendo, " persisted Josè in a tone of protest. 

"Perhaps. But those who are do not have children, " was Rosendo'ssimple manner of settling the argument. 

Its force appealed to Josè, and he felt a shade of relief. But, ifDiego were not the father of Carmen, what motive had he for wishing totake her with him, other than to train her eventually to become hisconcubine? The thought maddened him. He almost decided to tellRosendo. 

"But, Padre, we came out here to talk about the militia of which I amto be captain. _Bien_, we must begin work to-morrow. _Hombre_, but theseñora's eyes will stand out when she sees me marching at the head ofthe company!" He laughed like a pleased child. 

"And now that we have gold, Padre, I must send to Cartagena for a gun. What would one cost?"

"You probably could not obtain one, Rosendo. The Government is soafraid of revolutions that it prohibits the importation of arms. Buteven if you could, it would cost not less than fifty _pesos oro_. "

"Fifty _pesos_! _Caramba!_" exclaimed the artless fellow. "Then I getno gun! But now let us name those who will form the company. "

By dwelling on the pleasing theme, Josè managed to keep Rosendoengaged until fatigue at length drove the old man to seek his bed. Thetown was wrapped in darkness as they passed through its quiet streets, and the ancient Spanish lantern, hanging crazily from its molderingsconce on the corner of Don Felipe's house, threw the only light intothe black mantle that lay upon the main thoroughfare. 

 * * * * *

At sunrise, Josè was awakened by Rosendo noisily entering his house. A glance at the old man showed that he was laboring under strongemotion. 

"What sort of friendship is this, " he demanded curtly, "that you keepme from learning of Diego's presence in Simití? It was a trick youserved me--and friends do not so to one another!" He stood lookingdarkly at the priest. 

"Have you seen him, then? Good heavens, Rosendo! what have you done tohim?" cried Josè, hastily leaving his bed. 

"There, comfort yourself, Padre, " replied Rosendo, a sneer curling hislips. "Your friend is safe--for the present. He and his negro rascalsfled before sunrise. "

"And which direction did they take?"

"Why do you ask? Would you go to them? _Bueno_, then across the lake, toward the Juncal. Don Mario stocked their boat last night, while youkept me out on the shales. _Buen arreglo, no?_"

"Yes, Rosendo, " replied Josè gladly, "an excellent arrangement to keepyou from dipping your hands in his foul blood. Why, man! is yourvision so short? Have you no thought of Carmen and her future?"

"But--_Dios_! he has spread the report that he is her father!_Caramba!_ For that I would tear him apart! He robbed me of one child;and now--_Caramba_! Why did you let him go?--why did you, Padre?"

Rosendo paced the floor like a caged lion, while great tears rolleddown his black cheeks. 

"But, Rosendo, if you had killed him--what then? Imprisonment for you, suffering for us all, and the complete wreck of our hopes. Is it worthit?"

"_Na_, Padre, but I would have escaped to Guamocó, to the gold I havediscovered. There no one would have found me. And you would have keptme supplied; and I would have given you the gold I washed to care forher--"

The man sank into a chair and buried his head in his hands. "_Caramba!_" he moaned. "But he will return when I am gone--and theChurch is back of him, and they will come and steal her away--"

How childish, and yet how great he was in his wonderful love, thoughtJosè. He pitied him from the bottom of his heart; he loved himimmeasurably; yet he knew the old man's judgment was unsound in thiscase. 

"Come, Rosendo, " he said gently, laying a hand upon the bent head. "This is a time when expediency bids us suffer an evil to remain for alittle while, that a much greater good may follow. "

He hesitated. Then--"You do not think Diego is her father?"

"A thousand devils, no!" shouted Rosendo, springing up. "He the fatherof that angel-child? _Cielo!_ His brats would be serpents! But I amlosing time--" He turned to the door. 

"Rosendo!" cried the priest in fresh alarm. "Where are you going? Whatare you--"

"I am going after Diego! Juan and Lázaro go with me! Before sundownthat devil's carcass will be buzzard meat!"

Josè threw himself in front of Rosendo. 

"Rosendo, think of Carmen! Would you kill her, too? If you kill Diegonothing can save her from Wenceslas! Rosendo, for God's sake, listen!"

But the old man, with his huge strength, tossed the frail priestlightly aside and rushed into the street. Blind with rage, he did notsee Carmen standing a short distance from the door. The child had beensent to summon him to breakfast. Unable to check his momentum, the bigman crashed full into her and bore her to the ground beneath him. Asshe fell her head struck the sharp edge of an ancient paving stone, and she lay quite still, while the warm blood slowly trickled throughher long curls. 

Uttering a frightened cry, Josè rushed to the dazed Rosendo and gothim to his feet. Then he picked up the child, and, his heart numb withfear, bore her into the house. 

Clasping Carmen fiercely in his arms, Josè tried to aid Doña Maria instaunching the freely flowing blood. Rosendo, crazed with grief, bentover them, giving vent to moans which, despite his own fears, wrungthe priest's heart with pity for the suffering old man. At length thechild opened her eyes. 

"Praise God!" cried Rosendo, kneeling and showering kisses upon herhands. _"Loado sea el buen Dios! Caramba! Caramba!"_

"Padre Rosendo, " the girl murmured, smiling down at him, "yourthoughts were driving you, just like Benjamín drives his oxen. Andthey were bad, or you wouldn't have knocked me over. "

"Bad!" Rosendo went to the doorway and squatted down upon the dirtfloor in the sunlight. "Bad!" he repeated. "_Caramba_, but they weremurder-thoughts!"

"And they tried to make you murder me, didn't they, padre dear?" Shelaughed. "But it didn't really happen, anyway, " she added. 

Rosendo buried his head in his hands and groaned aloud. Carmen slippeddown from Josè's lap and went unsteadily to the old man. 

"They were not yours, those thoughts, padre dear, " putting her armsaround his neck. "But they were whipping you hard, just as if youbelonged to them. And see, it just shows that bad thoughts can't doanything. Look, I'm all right!" She stood off and smiled at him. 

Rosendo reached out and clasped her in his long arms. "_Chiquita_, " hecried, "if you were not, your old padre Rosendo would throw himselfinto the lake!"

"More bad thoughts, padre dear!" She laughed and held up a warningfinger. "But I was to tell you the _desayuno_ was ready; and see, wehave forgotten all about it!" Her merry laugh rang through the roomlike a silver bell. 

After breakfast Josè took Rosendo, still shaking, into the parishhouse. "I think, " he said gravely, "that we have learned anotherlesson, have we not, _amigo_?"

Rosendo's head sank upon his great chest. 

"And, if we are wise, we will profit by it--will we not, _compadre_?"He waited a moment, then continued:

"I have been seeing in a dim way, _amigo_, that our thought is alwaysthe vital thing to be reckoned with, more than we have even suspectedbefore. I believe there is a mental law, though I cannot formulate it, that in some way the thoughts we hold use us, and become externalizedin actions. You were wild with fear for Carmen, and your thoughts ofDiego were murderous. Bien, they almost drove you to murder, and theyreacted upon the very one you most love. Can you not see it, _amigo_?"

Rosendo looked up. His face was drawn. "Padre--I am almost afraid tothink of anything--now. "

"Ah, _amigo_, " said Josè with deep compassion, "I, too, have had adeep lesson in thinking these past two days. I had evolved manybeautiful theories, and worked out wonderful plans during these weeksof peace. Then suddenly came the news of the revolution, and, presto!they all flew to pieces! But Carmen--nothing disturbs her. Is itbecause she is too young to fear? I think not, _amigo_, I think not. Ithink, rather, that it is because she is too wise. "

"But--she is not of the earth, Padre. " The old man shook his headdubiously. 

"Rosendo, she is! She is human, just as we are. But in some way shehas learned a great truth, and that is that wrong thinking brings allthe discord and woe that afflict the human race. We know this is true, you and I. In a way we have known it all our lives. But why, _why_ dowe not practice it? Why do I yield so readily to fear; and you torevenge? I rather think if we loved our enemies we would have none, for our only enemies are the thoughts that become externalized inwrong thought-concepts. And even this externalization is only in ourown consciousness. It is there, and only there, that we see evil. "

"_Quien sabe?_ Padre, " replied Rosendo, slowly shaking his head. "Weknow so little--so little!"

"But, Rosendo, we know enough to try to be like Carmen--"

"_Caramba_, yes! And I try to be like her. But whenever dangerthreatens her, the very devils seize me, and I am no longer myself. "

"Yes, yes; I know. But will not her God protect her? Can not we trusther to Him?" Josè spoke with the conviction of right, howeverinconsistent his past conduct might have been. 

"True, Padre--and I must try to love Diego--I know--though I hate himas the devil hates the cross! Carmen would say that he was used by badthoughts, wouldn't she?"

"Just so. She would not see the man, but the impersonal thought thatseems to use him. And I believe she knows how to meet that kind ofthought. "

"I know it, Padre. _Bien_, I must try to love him. I _will_ try. And--Padre, whenever he comes into my mind I will try to think of himas God's child--though I know he isn't!"

Josè laughed loudly at this. "_Hombre!_" he exclaimed. "You must notthink of the human Diego as God's child! You must always think of the_real_ child of God for which this human concept, Diego, stands inyour consciousness. Do you understand me?"

"No, Padre. But perhaps I can learn. I will try. But Diego shall live. And--_Bien_, now let us talk about the company of militia. But herecomes the Alcalde. _Caramba!_ what does he want?"

With much oily ceremony and show of affection, Don Mario greeted thepair. 

"I bring a message from Padre Diego, " he announced pompously, afterthe exchange of courtesies. "Bien, it is quite unfortunate that ourfriend Rosendo feels so hard toward him, especially as Don Diego hasso long entrusted Carmen to Rosendo's care. But--his letter, _SeñorPadre_, " placing a folded paper in Josè's hand. 

Silently, but with swelling indignation, Josè read:

 "Dear Brother in Christ: It is, as you must know, because of our good Rosendo's foolish anger that I relieve him of the embarrassment of my presence in Simití. Not that I fear bodily harm, but lest his thoughtlessness urge him to attempt injury upon me; in which case nothing but unhappiness could result, as my two negro servants would protect me with their own lives. I rather choose peace, and to that end quietly depart. But I leave behind my bleeding heart in the little Carmen; and I beg that you will at once hand her over to the excellent Don Mario, with whom I have made arrangements to have her sent to me in due season, whether in Banco or Remedios, I can not at present say. I am minded to make an excellent report of your parish to Don Wenceslas, and I am sure he will lend you support in your labors for the welfare of the good folk of Simití. Do not forget to include the little locket with Carmen's effects when you deliver her to Don Mario. I assure you of my warm affection for you, and for Rosendo, who mistakes in his zeal to persecute me, as he will some day learn; and I commend you both to the protecting care of our blessed Mother Mary. 

 "I kiss your hand, as your servant in Christ, "DIEGO GUILLERMO POLO. "

Josè looked long and fixedly at the Alcalde. "Don Mario, " he finallysaid, "do you believe Diego to be the father of Carmen?"

"_Cierto_, Padre, I know it!" replied the official with fervor. "Hehas the proofs!"

"And what are they, may I ask?"

"I do not know, Padre; only that he has them. Surely the child is his, and must be sent to him when he commands. Meantime, you see, he givesthe order to deliver her to me. He has kindly arranged to relieve youand Rosendo of further care of the girl. "

"Don Mario, " said Josè with terrible earnestness, "I will give you thebenefit of the doubt, and say that Diego has basely deceived you. Butas for him--he lies. "

"_Hombre!_ But I can not help if you disbelieve him. Still, you mustcomply with his request; otherwise, the Bishop may compel you to doso. "

Josè realized the terrible possibility of truth in this statement. Foran instant all his old despair rushed upon him. Then he bracedhimself. Rosendo was holding his wrath in splendid check. 

"_Bien_, Don Mario, " resumed Josè, after a long meditation. "Let usask our good Rosendo to leave us for a little moment that we may withgreater freedom discuss the necessary arrangements. _Bien, amigo!_"holding up a hand to check Rosendo, who was rising menacingly beforethe Alcalde. "You will leave it to me. " He threw Rosendo a significantlook; and the latter, after a momentary hesitation, bowed and passedout of the room. 

"_A propósito, amigo_, " resumed Josè, turning to the Alcalde andassuming utter indifference with regard to Carmen. "As you willrecall, I stood security for Rosendo's debts. The thirty _pesos_ whichhe owes you will be ready this evening. "

The Alcalde smiled genially and rubbed his fat palms together. "_Muybien_, " he murmured. 

Josè reflected. Then:

"But, Don Mario, with regard to Carmen, justice must be done, is itnot so?"

"_Cierto_, Padre; and Padre Diego has the proofs--"

"Certainly; I accept your word for your conviction in the matter. Butyou will agree that there is something to be said for Rosendo. He hasfed, clothed, and sheltered the girl for some eight years. Let us see, at the rate you charge your _peones_, say, fifty pesos a day, thatwould amount to--"

He took paper and pencil from the table and made a few figures. 

"--to just fourteen hundred and sixty _pesos oro_, " he concluded. "This, then, is the amount now due Rosendo for the care of Diego'schild. You say he has made arrangements with you to care for her untilhe can send for her. _Bien_, we will deliver her to you for Diego, but only upon payment of the sum which I have just mentioned. Otherwise, how will Rosendo be reimbursed for the expense of herlong maintenance?"

"_Ca--ram--ba!_ Fourteen hundred and sixty _pesos oro_! Why--it is afortune!" ejaculated the outwitted Alcalde, his eyes bulging over hispuffy cheeks. 

"And, " continued Josè calmly, "if we deliver the girl to you to-day, Iwill retain the thirty _pesos oro_ which Rosendo owes you, and youwill stand surety for the balance of the debt, fourteen hundred andthirty, in that case. "

"_Diablo!_ but I will do nothing of the kind!" exploded the Alcalde. "_Caramba!_ let Diego come and look after his own brat!"

"Then we shall consider the interview at an end, no?"

"But my thirty _pesos oro_?"

"To-night. And as much more for additional supplies. We are stillworking together, are we not, Don Mario?" he added suggestively. 

Josè in Simití with money discounted a million Diegos fleeing throughthe jungle. The Alcalde's heavy face melted in a foolish grin. 

"_Cierto, buen Padre!_ and--La Libertad?"

"I have strong hopes, " replied Josè with bland assurance, while asignificant look came into his face. Then he rose and bowed theAlcalde out. "And, Don Mario--"

He put a finger on his lips. 

"--we remain very silent, no?"

"_Cierto, Padre, cierto!_ I am the grave itself!"

As the bulky official waddled off to his little shop, Josè turned backinto his house with a great sigh of relief. Another problem had beenmet--temporarily. 

He summoned Carmen to the day's lessons. 

CHAPTER 17

Within the month Juan brought from Bodega Central the glad news of therevolution's utter collapse. The anticlerical element, scentingtreachery in their own ranks, and realizing almost from the outsetthat the end was a matter of only a few weeks, offered to capitulateon terms which they felt would be less distressing to their pride thanthose which their victors might dictate after inflicting a crushingdefeat. The conservatives did not take advantage of the _fiasco_, butoffered conciliation in the way of reapportioning certain minor publicoffices, and a show of somewhat lessened clerical influence. Peacefollowed rapidly. The fires of Jacobinism and popery were againbanked, while priest and politician, statesman and orator set up theboard and rearranged the pawns for the next play. 

Nothing further had been heard of Padre Diego during the month, excepting that he had arrived at the settlement of Juncal in a stateof extreme agitation, and had hurriedly set out that same day alongthe trail to the San Lucas district. Rosendo, meanwhile, assured thatDiego would not return in the immediate future, yielded to Josè'spersuasion and departed at once for Guamocó on the news of therevolution's close. Simití had remained unmolested; and now, with theassurance of indefinite peace, the old town dropped quickly back intoher wonted state of listless repose, and yielded to the drowsy, dreamyinfluences that hover always about this scene of mediaeval romance. 

Josè had recovered his equipoise; and even when Juan, returning fromhis next trip down to the river, brought the priest another sharpletter from Wenceslas, written in the Bishop's name, he read itwithout a tremor. The letter complained of Josè's silence, andespecially of his failure to assist the Catholic cause in this crisalhour by contributions of Peter's Pence. Nor had any report beenreceived in Cartagena relative to the state of the parish of Simití, its resources and communicants; and not a _peso_ had been offered tothe support of their so dear citadel at a time when its enemiesthreatened its gates. Josè smiled happily as he penned his reply, forhe knew that with Rosendo's next return their contributions toCartagena would begin. That meant the quieting of Wenceslas, regardless of whatever report Diego might make. And it was evidentfrom this letter that neither Diego nor the Alcalde had as yetcommunicated anything of a startling nature to Wenceslas regardingthose things to which the priest had consecrated himself in Simití. 

Josè's life was never before so full. And never so sweet. To hislittle flock he was now preaching the Word of God only as he couldinterpret it to meet their simple needs. Gradually, as he got closerto them, he sought to enlighten them and to draw them at least alittle way out of the dense materialism of their present religiousbeliefs. He also strove to give them the best of his own worldlyknowledge, and to this end was talking to them three nights a week inthe church building, where the simple people hung upon his words likechildren enwrapped in fairy lore. He was holding regular Sundayservices, and offering Masses during the week for those of hisparishioners who requested them, and who would have been shocked, puzzled, and unhappy had he refused to do so, or attempted to provetheir uselessness. He was likewise saying diurnal Masses for thelittle Maria, to whom, as she lay breathing her last in his arms inCartagena, he had given the promise to offer them daily in her behalffor, a year. 

Nor was this the extent of his loving sacrifice for the girl. He hadalready sent a small sum of money to Catalina by Captain Julio, whopromised to arrange at Calamar for its transmission, and for the safeconvoy of a similar small packet monthly to Cartagena and into thehands of the two women who were caring for the infant son of Wenceslasand the ill-fated Maria. He had promised her that night that he wouldcare for her babe. And his life had long since shown what a promisemeant to him. He knew he would be unable to learn of the child'sprogress directly from these women, for they were both illiterate. ButCaptain Julio brought an encouraging message from them, and assuredJosè that he would always make inquiry for the babe on his trips downthe river. Josè's long-distance dealings with the genial captain hadbeen conducted through Juan, who had constituted himself the priest'sfaithful servant and the distant worshiper of the child Carmen. 

"Padre Josè, " Juan had said one day, striving vainly to hide hisembarrassment, "the little Carmen grows very beautiful. She is likethe Pascua-flower, that shines through the ferns in the _caño_. She islike the great blue butterfly, that floats on the sunbeams that siftthrough the forest trees. "

"Yes, Juan, she is very beautiful. "

"Padre, you love her much, is it not so?"

"Very much, indeed, Juan. "

"And I, Padre, I, too, love her. " He paused and dug the hard groundwith his bare toes. 

"Padre, " he resumed, "the little Carmen will marry--some day, will shenot?"

Josè started. The thought had never occurred to him! Carmen marry?After all, she was human, and-- But, no, he could not, he would not, think of it!

"Why, Juan--I--cannot say--"

"But, Padre, she will. " Juan was growing bolder. "And--and, Padre, I--I should like it if she would marry me. Ah, _Señor Padre_, alreadyI adore her!"

Josè could not be angry. The faithful lad was deeply sincere. And thegirl would reach the marriageable age of that country in all too shorta time. 

"But, Juan, " he remonstrated, "you are too young! And Carmen--why, sheis but a child!"

"True, Padre. But I am seventeen--and I will wait for her. Only saynow that she shall be mine when the time comes. Padre, say it now!"

Josè was deeply touched by the boy's earnest pleading. He put his armaffectionately about the strong young shoulders. 

"Wait, Juan, and see what develops. She is very, very young. We mustall wait. And, meanwhile, do you serve her, faithfully, as you seeRosendo and me doing. "

The boy's face brightened with hope. "Padre, " he exclaimed, "I am herslave!"

Josè went back to his work with Carmen with his thought full ofmingled conjecture and resolve. He had thus far outlined nothing forthe girl's future. Nor had he the faintest idea what the years mightbring forth. But he knew that, in a way, he was aiding in thepreparation of the child for something different from the dull, animalexistence with which she was at present surrounded, and that her pathin life must eventually lead far, far away from the shabby, crumblingtown which now constituted her material world. His task he felt to betremendous in the responsibility which it laid upon him. What had heever known of the manner of rearing children! He had previously giventhe question of child-education but scant consideration, although hehad always held certain radical ideas regarding it; and some of thesehe was putting to the test. But had his present work been forecastwhile he lay sunken in despair on the river steamer, he would haverepudiated the prediction as a figment of the imagination. Yet thegleam which flashed through his paralyzed brain that memorable day inthe old church, when Rosendo opened his full heart to him, had rousedhim suddenly from his long and despondent lethargy, and worked a quickand marvelous renovation in his wasted life. Following the lead ofthis unusual child, he was now, though with many vicissitudes, slowlypassing out of his prison of egoism, and into the full, clear sunlightof a world which he knew to be far less material than spiritual. 

With the awakening had come the almost frenzied desire to realize inCarmen what he had failed to develop within himself; a vague hope thatshe might fill the void which a lifetime of longing had expressed. Atremendous opportunity now presented. Already the foundation had beenwell laid--but not by earthly hands. His task was to build upon it;and, as he did so, to learn himself. He had never before realized morethan faintly the awful power for good or evil which a parent wieldsover a child. He had no more than the slightest conception of themighty problem of child-education. And now Carmen herself had shownhim that real education must be reared upon a foundation _whollyspiritual_. Yet this, he knew, was just what the world's educators didnot do. He could see now how in the world the religious instinct ofthe child is early quenched, smothered into complete or partialextinction beneath the false tutelage of parents and teachers, to whomyears and adult stature are synonymous with wisdom, and who themselveshave learned to see the universe only through the opaque lenses ofmatter and chance. 

"If children were not falsely educated to know all manner of evil, " hemused, "what spiritual powers might they not develop in adult life, powers that are as yet not even imagined! But their primitivereligious instinct is regarded by the worldly-wise parent as but apart of the infant existence, which must soon give place to the moresolid and real beliefs and opinions which the world in general regardsas established and conventional, even though their end is death. Andso they teach their children to make evil real, even while admonishingthem to protect themselves against it and eventually so to rise as toovercome it, little realizing that the carnal belief of the reality ofevil which a child is taught to accept permeates its pure thought likean insidious poison, and becomes externalized in the conventionalroutine existence of mind in matter, soul in body, a few brief yearsof mingled good and evil, and then darkness--the end here certain; thefuture life a vague, impossible conjecture. "

Josè determined that Carmen's education should be spiritual, largelybecause he knew, constituted as she was, it could not well beotherwise. And he resolved that from his teachings she should gleannothing but happiness, naught but good. With his own past as acontinual warning, he vowed first that never should the mental germ offear be planted within this child's mind. He himself had cringed likea coward before it all his desolate life. And so his conduct had beenconsistently slavish, specious, and his thought stamped with the brandof the counterfeit. He knew not how much longer he must struggle withit. But he knew that, if he would progress, the warfare must go on, until at length he should put it under his feet. His mind still borethe almost ineradicable mold of the fear deeply graven into it by theignorant opinions, the worldly, material, unspiritual beliefs of hisdear but unwise parents. His life had been hedged with baleful shadowsbecause of it; and over every bright picture there hung its blackdraping. As he looked back over the path along which he had come, hecould see every untoward event, every unhappiness and bitterdisappointment, as the externalization of fear in some form, the germof which had been early planted in the fertile soil of his plasticbrain. Without it he might have risen to towering heights. Under itsdomination he had sunk until the swirling stream of life had eddiedhim upon the desolate shores of Simití. In the hands of the lessfearful he had been a puppet. In his own eyes he was a fear-shapedmanikin, the shadow of God's real man. The fear germ had multipliedwithin him a billionfold, and in the abundant crop had yielded amental depression and deep-seated melancholy that had utterly stifledhis spirit and dried the marrow of his bones. 

They were not pleasant, these thoughts. But now Josè could draw fromthem something salutary, something definite to shape and guide hiswork with Carmen. She, at least, should not grow up the slave offearsome opinions and beliefs born of dense ignorance. Nor should thebaseless figments of puerile religious systems find lodgment withinher clear thought. The fear element, upon which so much of so-calledChristian belief has been reared, and the damnable suggestions of helland purgatory, of unpardonable sin and endless suffering, thestock-in-trade of poet, priest and prelate up to and overlapping ourpresent brighter day, should remain forever a closed volume to thischild, a book as wildly imaginative and as unacceptable as the fabledtravels of Maundeville. 

"I believe, " he would murmur to himself, as he strolled alone in thedusk beside the limpid lake, "that if I could plant myself firmly onthe Scriptural statement that God is love, that He is good; and if Icould regard Him as infinite mind, while at the same time striving torecognize no reality, no intelligence or life in things material, Icould eventually triumph over the whole false concept, and rise out ofbeliefs of sickness, discord, and death, into an unalterableconsciousness of good only. "

He had made a beginning when he strove to realize that man is notseparated from God; that God is not a far-off abstraction; and thatinfinite mind is, as Carmen insisted, "everywhere. "

"It is only the five physical senses that tell us evil is real, " hereflected. "Indeed, without their testimony we would be utterlyunconscious of evil! And I am convinced that their testimony isspecious, and that we see, hear, and feel only in thought, or inbelief. We think the sensations of seeing, hearing, and feeling cometo us through the medium of these senses as outward, fleshlycontrivances, which in some way communicate with the mind and bridgethe gulf between the material and the mental. In reality, we do butsee, hear and feel _our own thoughts_! The philosophers, many of them, said as much centuries ago. So did Jesus. But--the human mind has beenmesmerized, simply mesmerized!"

These things he pondered day by day, and watched to see them wroughtout in the life of Carmen. "Ah, yes, " he would sometimes say, asspiritual ideas unfolded to him, "you evolve beautiful theories, mygood Josè, and you say many brave things. But, when the day ofjudgment comes, as it did when Juan brought you the news of therevolution, then, alas! your theories fly to pieces, and you findyourself very human, very material, and your God hidden behind thedistant clouds. When the test comes, you find you cannot prove yourbeliefs. "

Yet the man did not often indulge in self-condemnation, for somehow heknew his ideas were right. When he realized the character and speciousnature of evil, and realized, too, that "by thy words thou shalt bejustified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned, " he knew that thestirring up of evil by good, and the shaking of the ancientfoundations of carnal belief within his mentality, might mean fierytrials, still awaiting him. And yet, the crown was for him who shouldovercome. Overcome what? The false opinions of mankind, the ignorantbeliefs in matter and evil. For what, after all, is responsible forall the evil in this world of ours? What but a false concept of God?"And if I keep my nose buried forever in matter, how can I hope to seeGod, who is Spirit? And how can I follow the Christ unless I think ashe thought?" he said. 

But it was in the classroom with Carmen that he always received hisgreatest stimulus. 

"See, Padre dear, " she said one day, "if I erase a wrong figure andthen set down the right one instead, I get the right answer. And it isjust like that when we think. If we always put good thoughts in theplace of the bad ones, why, everything comes out right, doesn't it?"

Josè smiled at the apt comparison. "Of course, _chiquita_, " hereplied. "Only in your algebra you know which are the right figures toput down. But how do you know which thoughts are right?"

"I always know, Padre. I can't make even the least mistake about thethoughts. Why, it is easier to mistake with figures than it is withthoughts. "

"How is that, little one?"

"Because, if you always think God _first_, you can never think wrong. Now can you? And if you think of other things first you are almostsure to think of the wrong thing, is it not so, Padre?"

The priest had to admit the force of her statement. 

"And, you know, Padre dear, " the girl went on, "when I understand theright rule in algebra, the answer just comes of itself. Well, it is sowith everything when we understand that God is the right rule--youcall Him principle, don't you?--well, when we know that He is the onlyrule for everything, then the answers to all our problems just come ofthemselves. "

Aye, thought Josè, the healing works of the great Master were only the"signs following, " the "answers" to the people's problems, the sureevidence that Jesus understood the Christ-principle. 

"And when you say that God is the right rule for everything, just whatdo you mean, _chiquita_?"

"That He is everywhere, " the girl replied. 

"That He is infinite and omnipresent good, then?" the priestamplified. 

"He is good--and everywhere, " the child repeated firmly. 

"And the necessary corollary of that is, that there is no evil, " Josèadded. 

"I don't know what you mean by corollary, Padre dear. It's a big word, isn't it?"

"I mean--I think I know how you would put it, little one--if God iseverywhere, then there is nothing bad. Is that right?"

"Yes, Padre. Don't you see?"

Assuredly he saw. He saw that a fact can have no real opposite; thatany predicated opposite must be supposition. And evil is thesupposition; whereas good is the fact. The latter is "plus, " and theformer "minus. " No wonder the origin of evil has never been found, although humanity has struggled with the problem for untold ages!Jesus diagnosed evil as a lie. He gave it the minus sign, the sign ofnothingness. The world has tried to make it positive, something. Fromthe false sense of evil as a reality has come the equally false senseof man's estrangement from God, through some fictitious "fall"--acurse, truly, upon the human intellect, but not of God's infliction. For false belief always curses with a reign of discord, which enduresuntil the belief becomes corrected by truth. From the beginning, thehuman race has vainly sought to postulate an equal and opposite toeverything in the realm of both the spiritual and material. It hasbeen hypnotized, obsessed, blinded, by this false zeal. The resultantbelief in "dualism" has rendered hate the equal and opposite of Love, evil the equal and opposite of Good, and discord the eternal opponentof Harmony. To cope with evil as a reality is to render it immortal inour consciousness. To know its unreality is to master it. 

"Throughout life, " Josè mused, "every positive has its negative, everyaffirmation its denial. But the opposites never mingle. And, moreover, the positive always dispels the negative, thus proving the speciousnature of the latter. Darkness flees before the light, and ignorancedissolves in the morning rays of knowledge. Both cannot be real. Thepositive alone bears the stamp of immortality. Carmen has but onefundamental rule: _God is everywhere_. This gives her a sense ofimmanent power, with which all things are possible. "

Thus with study and meditation the days flowed past, with scarcely aripple to break their quiet monotony. Rosendo came, and went again. Hebrought back at the end of his first month's labors on the newlydiscovered deposit some ninety _pesos_ in gold. He had reached thebedrock, and the deposit was yielding its maximum; but the yield wouldcontinue for many months, he said. His exultation overleaped allbounds, and it was with difficulty that Josè could bring him to aconsideration of the problems still confronting them. 

"I think, Rosendo, " said the priest, "that we will send, say, thirty_pesos_ this month to Cartagena; the same next month; and thenincrease the amount slightly. This method is sure to have a beneficialeffect upon the ecclesiastical authorities there. "

"Fine!" ejaculated Rosendo. "And how will you send it, Padre?"

Josè pondered the situation. "We cannot send the gold direct to theBishop, for that would excite suspicion. Masses, you know, are notpaid for in gold dust and nuggets. And we have no money. Nor could weget the gold exchanged for bills here in Simití, even if we dared runthe risk of our discovery becoming known. "

For the Alcalde was already nosing about in an effort to ascertain thesource of the gold with which Rosendo had just cancelled his debt andpurchased further supplies. Josè now saw that, under existingconditions, it would be utterly impossible for Rosendo to obtaintitles to mineral properties through Don Mario. He spent hours seekinga solution of the involved problem. Then, just before Rosendo departedagain for the mountains, Josè called him into the parish house. 

"Rosendo, I think I see a way. Bring me one of the paper boxes ofcandles which you have just purchased from Don Mario. "

"Carumba! Padre, " queried the surprised Rosendo, as he returned withthe box, "and what is this for?"

"I merely want to get the name of the firm which sold the candles. TheEmpresa Alemania, Barranquilla. Good! Now listen. I have a method thatis roundabout, but certainly promises much. I will write to the firm, appointing them my agents while I pose as Josè Rincón, miner. Theagency established, I will send them our gold each month, asking themto return to me its equivalent in bills, deducting, of course, theircommission. Then I will send these bills, or such part as we deemwise, to Wenceslas. Each month Juan, who will be sworn to secrecy, will convey the gold to Bodega Central in time to meet Captain Julio'sboat. The captain will both deliver the gold to the Empresa Alemania, and bring back the bills in exchange. Then, from Simití, and in theregular manner, I will send the small packet of bills to Wenceslas ascontributions from the parish. We thus throw Don Mario off the scent, and arouse no suspicion in any quarter. As I receive mail matter atvarious times, the Alcalde will not know but what I also receiveconsignments of money from my own sources. I think the plan will workout. Juan already belongs to us. What, then, is there to fear?"

And so, as it was arranged, it worked out. Juan reveled in the honorof such intimate relations with the priest and Rosendo, and especiallyin the thought that he was working in secret for the girl he adored. By the time Rosendo returned again from Guamocó, Josè had sent hisfirst consignment of money to the Bishop, carefully directing it toWenceslas, personally, and had received an acknowledgment in a letterwhich caused him deep thought. 

 "To further stimulate the piety of your communicants, " it read, "and arouse them to more generous contributions to our glorious cause, you will inform them that, if their monetary contributions do not diminish in amount for the coming year, they will be made participants in the four solemn Novenas which will be offered by His Grace, the Bishop of Cartagena. Moreover, if their contributions increase, the names of the various contributors will be included in the one hundred Masses which are to be offered in December at the Shrine of Our Lady of Chiquinquía for their spiritual and temporal welfare. Contributors will also have a High Mass after death, offered by one of His Grace's assistants, as soon as the notification of death is received here. In addition to these, His Grace, always mindful of the former importance of the parish of Simití, and acknowledging as its special patron the ever blessed Virgin, has arranged to bestow the episcopal blessing upon an image of the Sacred Heart, which will be shipped to his faithful children in Simití when the amount of their contributions shall have met the expense thereof. Let us keep ever in mind the pious words of the Bl. Margaret Mary, who has conveyed to us the assurance which she received directly from Our Blessed Lord that He finds great joy in beholding His Sacred Heart visibly represented, that it may touch the hard hearts of mankind. Our blessed Saviour promised the gracious Margaret Mary that He would pour out abundantly of His rich treasure upon all who honor this image, and that it shall draw down from heaven every blessing upon those who adore and reverence it. Inform your parishioners that the recital of the offering, 'O, Sacred Heart of Jesus, may it be everywhere adored!' carries a hundred days' indulgence each time. 

 "You will bear in mind that the General Intention for this month is The Conversion of America. Though our Church is founded on the Rock, and is to last forever, so that the gates of hell shall never prevail against her, nevertheless she has been called upon to withstand many assaults from her enemies, the advocates of _modernism_, in the land of liberal thought to our north. These assaults, though painful to her, can never be fatal to her spiritual life, although they unfortunately are so to many of her dear children, who yield to the insidious persuasions of the heretics who do the work of Satan among the Lord's sheep. New and fantastic religions are springing up like noxious weeds in America of the north, and increasing infidelity is apparent on every hand. The Christ prayed that there might be one fold and one shepherd. It is for us this month to pray for the great day when they will be accomplished. But we must be united over the interests of the Sacred Heart. Therefore, liberal plenary indulgences will be granted to those of the faithful who contribute to this glorious cause, so dear to the heart of the blessed Saviour. We enclose leaflets indicating the three degrees, consisting of the Morning Offering, Our Father and ten Hail Marys daily, for the Pope and his interests, and the degree of reparation, by which a plenary indulgence may be gained. 

 "Stimulate your parishioners to compete joyfully for the statue of the Blessed Virgin, which we mentioned to you in our former communication. Teach them, especially, their entire dependence on Mary, on her prayers to God for their deliverance and welfare. Reveal to them her singularly powerful influence in the shaping of all great historical events of the world; how never has she refused our prayers to exert her mighty influence with her all-potent Son, when she has been appealed to in sincerity, for it rejoices the Sacred Heart of Jesus to yield to the requests of His Blessed Mother. Mary is omnipotent, for she can ask no favor of her Son that He will not grant. Competition for possession of this sacred image, which carries the potent blessing of His Holiness, should be regarded a privilege, and you will so impress it upon the minds of your parishioners. 

 "Finally, His Grace requests that you will immediately procure whatever information you may regarding the mineral resources of the district of Guamocó, and indicate upon a sketch the location of its various mines, old or new, as known to its inhabitants. Diligent and careful inquiry made by yourself among the people of the district will reveal many hidden facts regarding its resources, which should be made known to His Grace at the earliest possible moment, in view of the active preparations now in progress to forestall the precipitation of another political uprising with its consequent strain upon our Holy Church. "

"Money! money! money!" cried Josè. "One would think the Christ hadestablished his Church solely for gold!"

He folded the letter and looked out through the rear door to whereCarmen sat, teaching Cucumbra a new trick. He realized then that neverbefore had he been so far from the Holy Catholic faith as at thatmoment. And Carmen--

"Good God!" he muttered, as his eyes rested upon the child. "If theChurch should get possession of Carmen, what would it do with her?Would it not set its forces to work to teach her that evil is areality--that it is as powerful as good--that God formed man and theuniverse out of dust--that Jesus came down from a starry heaven thathe might die to appease the wrath of a man-like Father--that Marypleads with the Lord and Jesus, and by her powerful logic induces themto spare mankind and grant their foolish desires--all the dribble andrubbish of outlandish theology that has accumulated around the nucleusof pure Christianity like a gathering snowball throughout the ages! Tomake the great States up north dominantly Catholic, Rome must--simply_must_--have the children to educate, that she may saturate theirabsorbent minds with these puerile, undemonstrable, pagan beliefsbefore the child has developed its own independent thought. How wiseis she--God, how worldly wise and cunning! And I still her priest--"

Carmen came bounding in, followed pellmell by Cucumbra. Cantar-las-horasstalked dignifiedly after her, and stopped at the threshold, where hestood with cocked head and blinking eyes, wondering what move hisanimated young mistress would make next. 

"Padre!" she exclaimed, "the sun is down, and it is time for ourwalk!"

She seized his hand and drew him out into the road. The play of herexpression as she looked up and laughed into his face was like thedance of sunbeams on moving water. They turned down the narrow streetwhich led to the lake. As was her wont, in every object about her, inevery trifling event, the child discovered rich treasures ofhappiness. The pebbles which she tossed with her bare toes were minesof delight. The pigs, which turned up their snouts expectantly as shestooped to scratch their dusty backs--the matronly hens that followedclucking after her--the black babies that toddled out to greet the_Cura_--all yielded a wealth of delight and interest. She seemed toJosè to uncover joy by a means not unlike the divining rod, whichpoints to hidden gold where to the eye there is naught but barrenground. 

Near the margin of the lake they stopped at the door of a cottage, where they were awaited by the matron who displayed a finger wrappedin a bit of cloth. She greeted the priest courteously. 

"_Señor Padre_, " she said, "this morning I had the misfortune to cutmy finger while peeling yuccas, and I am not sure whether a piece ofthe skin went into the pot or not. _Bueno_, the yuccas are all cooked;and now my man says he will not eat them, for this is Friday, andthere may be meat with the yuccas. What shall I do? Was it wicked tocook the yuccas, not knowing if a bit of the skin from my finger hadfallen into the pot?"

Josè stood dumfounded before such ignorant credulity. Then he shookhis head and replied sadly, "No, señora, it was not wicked. Tell yourman he may eat the yuccas. "

The woman's face brightened, and she hastened into the house toapprise her spouse of the _Cura's_ decision. 

"God help us!" muttered Josè under his breath. "Two thousand years ofChristianity, and still the world knows not what Jesus taught!"

"But you told me he had good thoughts, Padre dear, " said the littlevoice at his side, as he walked slowly away with bended head. "Andthat is enough to know. "

"Why do you say that, Carmen?" asked Josè, somewhat petulantly. 

"Because, Padre, if he had good thoughts, he thought about God--didn'the? And if he thought about God, he always thought of something good. And if we always think about good--well, isn't that enough?"

Josè's eyes struggled with hers. She almost invariably framed herreplies with an interrogation, and, whether he would or not, he mustperforce give answers which he knew in his heart were right, and yetwhich the sight of his eyes all too frequently denied. 

"Padre, you are not thinking about God now--are you?"

"I am, indeed, child!" he answered abruptly. 

"Well--perhaps you are thinking _about_ Him; but you are not thinking_with_ Him--are you?--the way He thinks. You know, He sends us Histhoughts, and we have to pick them out from all the others that aren'tHis, and then think them. If the señora and her man had been thinkingGod's thoughts, they wouldn't have been afraid to eat a piece of meaton Friday--would they?"

Cucumbra, forgetting his many months of instruction, suddenly yieldedto the goad of animal instinct and started along the beach in madpursuit of a squealing pig. Carmen dashed after him. As Josè watchedher lithe, active little body bobbing over the shales behind theflying animals, she seemed to him like an animated sunbeam sportingamong the shadows. 

"Why should life, " he murmured aloud, "beginning in radiance, proceedin ever deepening gloom, and end at last in black night? Why, but forthe false education in evil which is inflicted upon us! The joys, theunbounded bliss of childhood, do indeed gush from its innocence--itsinnocence of the blighting belief in mixed good and evil--innocence ofthe false beliefs, the undemonstrable opinions, the mad worldlyambitions, the carnal lust, bloated pride, and black ignorance of men!It all comes from not knowing God, to know whom is life eternal! Thestruggle and mad strife of man--what does it all amount to, when 'inthe end he shall be a fool'? Do we in this latest of the centuries, with all our boasted progress in knowledge, really know so much, afterall? Alas! we know nothing--nothing!"

"Come, Padre, " cried Carmen, returning to him, "we are going to justtry now to have all the nice thoughts we can. Let's just look allaround us and see if we can't think good thoughts about everything. And, do you know, Padre dear, I've tried it, and when I look at thingsand something tries to make me see if there could possibly be anythingbad about them--why, I find there can't! Try it, and see foryourself. "

Josè knew it. He knew that the minds of men are so profaned byconstantly looking at evil that their thoughts are tinged with it. Hewas striving to look up. But in doing so he was combating a habitgrown mighty by years of indulgence. 

"When you always think good about a thing, " the girl went on, "younever can tell what it will do. But good _always_ comes from it. Iknow. I do it all the time. If things look bad, I just say, 'Why look, here's something trying to tell me that two and two are seven!' Andthen it goes away. "

"Your purity and goodness resist evil involuntarily, little one, " saidJosè, more to himself than to the child. 

"Why, Padre, what big words!"

"No, little one, it is just the meaning of the words that is big, " hereplied. 

The girl was silent for some moments. Then:

"Padre dear, I never thought of it before--but it is true: we don'tsee the meaning of words with the same eyes that we see trees andstones and people, do we?"

Josè studied the question. "I don't quite understand what you mean, _chiquita_, " he was finally forced to answer. 

"Well, " she resumed, "the meaning of a word isn't something that wecan pick up, like a stone; or see, as we see the lake out there. "

"No, Carmen, the meaning is spiritual--mental; it is not physicallytangible. It is not seen with the fleshly eyes. "

"The meaning of a word is the inside of it, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is the inside, the soul, of the word. "

"And we don't see the word, either, do we?" She shook her brown curlsin vigorous negation. 

"No, little one, we see only written or printed symbols; or hear onlysounds that convey to us the words. But the words themselves aremental. We do not see them. "

"No, we think them. " She meditated a while. "But, Padre dear, " shecontinued, "the inside, or soul, of everything is mental. We never seeit. We have to think it. "

"Yes, you are right. The things we think we see are only symbols. Theystand for the real things. "

"Padre, they don't stand for anything!" she replied abruptly. 

Josè looked down at her in surprise. He waited. 

"Padre, the real things are the things we don't see. And the things wethink we see are not real at all!"

Josè had ere this learned not to deny her rugged statements, but tostudy them for their inner meaning, which the child often found toodeep for her limited vocabulary to express. 

"The things we think we see, " he said, though he was addressing hisown thought, "are called the physical. The things we do not see orcognize with the physical senses are called mental, or spiritual. Well?" he queried, looking down again into the serious little face. 

"Padre, the very greatest things are those that we don't see at all!"

"True, _chiquita_. Love, life, joy, knowledge, wisdom, health, harmony--all these are spiritual ideas. The physical sometimesmanifests them--and sometimes does not. And in the end, called death, it ceases altogether to manifest them. "

"But--these things--the very greatest things there are--are the soulsof everything--is it not so, Padre dear?"

"It must be, _chiquita_. "

"And all these things came from God, and He is everywhere, and so Heis the soul of everything, no?"

He made the same affirmative reply. 

"Padre--don't you see it?--we are not seeing things all around us! Wedon't see real things that we call trees and stones and people! We seeonly what we _think_ we see. We see things that are not there at all!We see--"

"Yes, we see only our thoughts. And we think we see them as objectsall about us, as trees, and houses, and people. But in the finalanalysis we see only thoughts, " he finished. 

"But these thoughts do not come from God, " she insisted. 

"No, " he replied slowly, "because they often manifest discord anderror. I think I grasp what is struggling in your mind _chiquita_. Godis--"

"Everywhere, " she interrupted. 

"He is everywhere, and therefore He is the soul--the inside--the heartand core--of everything. He is mind, and His thoughts are real, andare the only real thoughts there are. He is truth. The opposite oftruth is a lie. But, in reality, truth cannot have an opposite. Therefore, a lie is a supposition. And so the thought that we seem tosee externalized all about us, and that we call physical objects, issupposition only. And, a supposition being unreal, the whole physicaluniverse, including material man, is unreal--is a supposition, asupposition of mixed good and evil, for it manifests both. It is thelie about God. And, since a lie has no real existence, this humanconcept of a universe and mankind composed of matter is utterlyunreal, an image of thought, an illusion, existing in false thoughtonly--a belief--a supposition pure and simple!"

As he talked he grew more and more animated. He seemed to forget thepresence of the child, and appeared to be addressing only his owninsistent questionings. 

They walked along together in silence for some moments. Then the girlagain took up the conversation. 

"Padre, " she said, "you know, you taught me to prove my problems inarithmetic and algebra. Well, I have proved something about thinking, too. If I think a thing, and just keep thinking it, pretty soon I seeit--in some way--outside of me. "

A light seemed to flash through Josè's mental chambers, and herecalled the words of the explorer in Cartagena. Yes, that was exactlywhat he had said--"every thought that comes into the mind tends tobecome _externalized_, either upon the body as a physical condition, or in the environment, or as an event, good or bad. " It was a law, dimly perceived, but nevertheless sufficiently understood in itsworkings to indicate a tremendous field as yet all but unknown. Theexplorer had called it the law of the externalization of thought. "Asa man thinketh in his heart, so is he, " said the Master, twentycenturies before. Did he recognize the law?

Josè's thought swept over his past. Had his own wrong thinking, or thewrong thought of others, been the cause of his unhappiness and acutemental suffering? But why personalize it? What difference whether itbe called his, or the Archbishop's, or whose? Let it suffice that itwas false thought, undirected by the Christ-principle, God, that hadbeen externalized in the wreckage which he now called his past life. 

He again stood face to face with the most momentous question everpropounded by a waiting world: the question of causation. And he knewnow that causation was wholly spiritual. 

"Padre dear, you said just now that God was mind. But, if that istrue, there is only one mind, for God is everywhere. "

"It must be so, _chiquita_, " dreamily responded the priest. 

"Then He is your mind and my mind, is it not so?"

"Yes--"

"Then, if He is my mind, there just isn't anything good that I can'tdo. "

Twilight does not linger in the tropics, and already the shadows thatstole down through the valley had wrapped the man and child in theirmystic folds. Hand in hand they turned homeward. 

"Padre, if God is my mind, He will do my thinking for me. And all Ihave to do is to keep the door open and let His thoughts come in. "

Her sweet voice lingered on the still night air. There was a pensivegladness in the man's heart as he tightly held her little hand and ledher to Rosendo's door. 

CHAPTER 18

The next morning Josè read to Rosendo portions of the communicationfrom Wenceslas. 

"Chiquinquía, " commented the latter. "I remember that Padre Diegocollected much money from our people for Masses to be said at thatshrine. "

"But where is it, Rosendo?" asked Josè. 

"You do not know the story?" queried Rosendo in surprise. "Why, thereis not a shrine in the whole of Colombia that works so many cures asthis one. Your grandfather, Don Ignacio, knew the place. And it wasfrom him that my--that is, I learned the legend when I was only a boy. It is said that a poor, sick young girl in the little Indian villageof Chiquinquía, north of Bogotá, stood praying in her shabby littlecottage before an old, torn picture of the blessed Virgin. " He stoppedand crossed himself devoutly. Then he resumed:

"_Bueno_, while the girl prayed, the picture suddenly rose up in theair; the torn places all closed; the faded colors came again as freshas ever; and the girl was cured of her affliction. The people of thevillage immediately built a shrine, over which they hung the picture;and ever since then the most wonderful miracles have been performed byit there. "

Josè laughed. "You don't believe that, do you, Rosendo?" he asked inbanter. 

"_Hombre_, yes!" exclaimed the latter a bit testily. "I know it! Didnot Don Felipe go there when the doctor in Mompox told him the littlewhite spot on his hand was leprosy? And he came back cured. "

Leprosy! Josè started as if he had received a blow. He lookedfurtively at the scar on his own hand, the hand which the leper inMaganguey had lacerated that dreadful night, and which often burnedand ached as if seared by a hot iron. He had never dared to voice thecarking fear that tightened about his heart at times. But often in thedepths of night, when dread anticipation sat like a spectre upon hisbed, he had risen and gone out into the darkness to wrestle with hisblack thoughts. Leprosy! All the gladness and joy left his heart, anda pall of darkness settled over his thought. He turned back into hiscottage and tried to find forgetfulness in the simple duties that layat hand. 

"Why is it, " he asked himself, as he sat wearily down at his littletable, "that I always think of evil first; while Carmen's firstthought is invariably of God?"

He looked at the ugly scar on his hand. What thought was externalizedin the loathsome experience which produced that? he wondered. Was itthe summation of all the fear, the weakness, the wrong belief, thathad filled his previous years? And now why was he finding it sodifficult to practice what Carmen lived, even though he knew it wastruth?

"Alas!" he murmured aloud, "it was the seminary that did it. For theremy thought was educated away from the simple teachings of Jesus. ToCarmen there is no mystery in godliness. Though she knows utterlynothing about Jesus, yet she hourly uses the Christ-principle. It isthe children who grasp the simple truths of God; while the lack ofspirituality which results from increasing years shrinks maturer mindsuntil they no longer afford entrance to it. For godliness is broad;and the mind that receives it must be opened wide. "

As he sat with his bowed head clasped in his hands, a sweet, airyvoice greeted him. 

"Why, Padre dear--ah, I caught you that time!--you were thinking thattwo and two are seven, weren't you?" She shook a rebuking finger athim. 

Framed in the doorway like an old masterpiece, the sunlight bronzingher heavy brown curls, the olive-tinted skin of her bare arms and legsflushing with health, and her cheap calico gown held tightly abouther, showing the contour of her full and shapely figure, the girlappeared to Josè like a vision from the realm of enchantment. And heknew that she did dwell in the land of spiritual enchantment, wherehappiness is not at the mercy of physical sense. 

"He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the Lordrequire of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walkhumbly with thy God?"

"The Lord our God is a right-thinking God, and right-thinking is whatHe desires in His people. "

Josè thought of this as he looked at Carmen. This barefoot girl, whowalked humbly, trustingly, with her God, had she not supplied him witha working formula for his every problem, even to the casting out ofthe corroding fear planted in his heart by that awful experience inMaganguey? Though he had suffered much, yet much had been done forhim. The brusque logic of the explorer had swept his mind clear of itslast vestige of theological superstition, and prepared it for thetruth which, under the benign stimulus of this clear-minded child, would remake his life, if he could now yield himself utterly to it. Hemust--he would--ceaselessly strive, even though he fell daily, to makehis life a pattern of hers, wherein there was no knowledge of evil!

The girl came to the priest and leaned fondly against him. Then alittle sigh escaped her lips, as she looked down into his face withpitying affection. 

"Padre dear, " she said, in a tone that echoed a strain of sadness, "I--I don't believe--you love God very much. "

The man was startled, and resentment began to well in his heart. "Whata thing to say, Carmen!" he answered reprovingly. 

The girl looked up at him with great, wondering eyes. "But, Padre, "she protested, "were you not thinking of things that are not true whenI came in?"

"No--I was--I was thinking of the future--of--well, _chiquita_, I wasthinking of something that might happen some day, that is all. " Hestumbled through it with difficulty, for he knew he must not lie tothe child. Would she ever trust him again if he did?

"And, Padre, were you afraid?"

"Afraid? Yes, _chiquita_, I was. " He hung his head. 

Carmen looked at him reproachfully. "Then, Padre, I was right--for, ifyou loved God, you would trust Him--and then you couldn't be afraid ofanything--could you? People who love Him are not afraid. "

He turned his head away. "Ah, child, " he murmured, "you will find thatout in the world people don't love God in this day and generation. Atleast they don't love Him that way. "

"They don't love Him enough to trust him?" she asked wistfully. 

"No. " He shook his head sadly. "Nobody trusts Him, not even thepreachers themselves. When things happen, they rush for a doctor, orsome other human being to help them out of their difficulty. Theydon't turn to Him any more. They seldom speak His name. "

"Have--they--forgotten Him?" she asked slowly, her voice sinking to awhisper. 

"Absolutely!" He again buried his head in his hands. 

The child stood in silence for some moments. Then:

"What made them forget Him, Padre?"

"I guess, _chiquita_, they turned from Him because He didn't answertheir prayers. I used to pray to Him, too. I prayed hours at a time. But nothing seemed to come of it. And so I stopped. " He spokebitterly. 

"You prayed! You mean--"

"I asked Him for things--to help me out of trouble--I asked Him togive me--"

"Why, Padre! Why--that's the very reason!"

He looked up at her blankly. "What is the very reason? What are youtrying to tell me, child?"

"Why, He is everywhere, and He is right here all the time. And sothere couldn't be any real trouble for Him to help you out of; and Hecouldn't give you anything, for He has already done that, long ago. Weare in Him, don't you know? Just like the little fishes in the lake. And so when you asked Him for things it showed that you didn't believeHe had already given them to you. And--you know what you said lastnight about thinking, and that when we think things, we see them?Well, He has given you everything; but you thought He hadn't, and soyou saw it that way--isn't it so?"

She paused for breath. She had talked rapidly and with animation. Butbefore he could reply she resumed:

"Padre dear, you know you told me that Jesus was the best man thatever lived, and that it was because he never had a bad thought--isn'tthat so?"

"Yes, " he murmured. 

"Well, did he pray--did he ask God for things?"

"Of course he did, child!" the priest exclaimed. "He always asked Himfor things. Why, he was always praying--the New Testament is full ofit!"

Acting on a sudden impulse, he rose and went into the sleeping roomto get his Bible. The child's face took on an expression ofdisappointment as she heard his words. Her brow knotted, and atroubled look came into her brown eyes. 

Josè returned with his Bible and seated himself again at the table. Opening the book, his eyes fell upon a verse of Mark's Gospel. Hestopped to read it; and then read it again. Suddenly he looked up atthe waiting girl. 

"What is it, Padre? What does it say?"

He hesitated. He read the verse again; then he scanned the childclosely, as if he would read a mystery hidden within her bodilypresence. Abruptly he turned to the book and read aloud:

"'Therefore I say unto you, What things soever ye desire, when yepray, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them. '"

The girl drew a long breath, almost a sigh, as if a weight had beenremoved from her mind. "Did Jesus say that?" she asked in glad, eagertones. 

"Yes--at least it is so reported here, " he answered absently. 

"Well--_he_ knew, didn't he?"

"Knew what, child?"

"Why, Padre, he told the people to know--just _know_--that theyalready had everything--that God had given them everything good--andthat if they would _know_ it, they would see it. "

Externalization of thought? Yes; or rather, the externalization oftruth. Josè fell into abstraction, his eyes glued to the page. Thereit stood--the words almost shouted it at him! And there it had stoodfor nearly two thousand years, while priest and prelate, scribe andcommentator had gone over it again and again through the ages, withouteven guessing its true meaning--without even the remotest idea of theinfinite riches it held for mankind!

He turned reflectively to Matthew; and then to John. He remembered thepassages well--in the past he had spent hours of mortal agony poringover them and wondering bitterly why God had failed to keep thepromises they contain. 

"And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, yeshall receive. "

All things--when ye ask _believing_! But that Greek word surely heldvastly more than the translators have drawn from it. Nay, notbelieving only, but _understanding_ the allness of God as good, andthe consequent nothingness of evil, all that seems to oppose Him! Howcould the translators have so completely missed the mark! AndCarmen--had never seen a Bible until he came into her life; yet sheknew, knew instinctively, that a good God who was "everywhere" couldnot possibly withhold anything good from His children. It was thesimplest kind of logic. 

But, thought Josè again, if the promises are kept, why have we fallenso woefully short of their realization? Then he read again, "If yeabide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, andit shall be done unto you. " The promise carries a condition--abidingin his words--obeying his commands--keeping the very _first_Commandment, which is that "Ye shall have no other gods before me"--nogods of evil, sickness, chance, or death. The promises are fulfilledonly on the condition of righteousness--right-thinking about God andHis infinite, spiritual manifestation. 

He turned to Carmen. "_Chiquita_, " he said tenderly, "you never askGod to give you things, do you?"

"Why, no, Padre; why should I? He gives me everything I need, doesn'tHe?"

"Yes--when you go out to the shales, you--"

"I don't ask Him for things, Padre dear. I just tell Him I _know_ Heis everywhere. "

"I see--yes, you told me that long ago--I understand, _chiquita_. "His spirit bowed in humble reverence before such divine faith. Thisuntutored, unlearned girl, isolated upon these burning shales, far, far from the haunts of men of pride and power and worldly lore--thisbarefoot child whose coffers held of material riches scarce more thanthe little calico dress upon her back--this lowly being knew thatwhich all the fabled wealth of Ind could never buy! Her prayers werenot the selfish pleadings that spring from narrow souls, the soulsthat "ask amiss"--not the frenzied yearnings wrung from suffering, ignorant hearts--nor were they the inflated instructions addressedto the Almighty by a smug, complacent clergy, the self-constitutedpress-bureau of infinite Wisdom. Her prayers, which so often driftedlike sweetest incense about those steaming shales, were notpetitions, but _affirmations_. They did not limit God. She did notplead with Him. She simply _knew_ that He had already met her needs. And that righteousness--right-thinking--became externalized in herconsciousness in the good she sought. Jesus did the same thing, overand over again; but the poor, stupid minds of the people were sofull of wrong beliefs about his infinite Father that they could notunderstand, no, not even when he called Lazarus from the tomb. 

"Ask in my name, " urged the patient Jesus. But the poor fishermenthought he meant his human name to be a talisman, a sort of "OpenSesame, " when he was striving all the time, by precept and deed, toshow them that they must ask in his _character_, must be like him, towhom, though of himself he could do nothing, yet all things werepossible. 

Josè's heart began to echo the Master's words: "Father, I thank Theethat Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hastrevealed them unto babes. " He put his arm about Carmen and drew her tohim. 

"Little one, " he murmured, "how much has happened in these past fewweeks!"

Carmen looked up at him with an enigmatical glance and laughed. "Well, Padre dear, I don't think anything ever really _happens_, do you?"

"Why not?" he asked. 

"Mistakes happen, as in solving my algebra problems. But good thingsnever happen, any more than the answers to my problems happen. Youknow, there are rules for getting the answers; but there are no rulesfor making mistakes--are there? But when anything comes out accordingto the rule, it doesn't happen. And the mistakes, which have no rules, are not real--the answers are real, but the mistakes are not--and sonothing ever really happens. Don't you see, Padre dear?"

"Surely, I see, " he acquiesced. Then, while he held the girl close tohim, he reflected: Good is never fortuitous. It results from theapplication of the Principle of all things. The answer to amathematical problem is a form of good, and it results from theapplication of the principle of mathematics. Mistakes, and the variousthings which "happen" when we solve mathematical problems, do not haverules, or principles. They result from ignorance of them, or theirmisapplication. And so in life; for chance, fate, luck, accident andthe merely casual, come, not from the application of principles, butfrom not applying them, or from ignorance of their use. The human mindor consciousness, which is a mental activity, an activity of thought, is concerned with mixed thoughts of good and evil. But _it operateswithout any principle whatsoever_. For, if God is infinite good, thenthe beliefs of evil which the human mind holds must be false beliefs, illusions, suppositions. A supposition has no principle, no rule. Andso, it is only the unreal that happens. And even that sort of"happening" can be prevented by knowing and using the principle of allgood, God. A knowledge of evil is not knowledge at all. Evil has norules. Has an accident a principle? He laughed aloud at the idea. 

"What is it, Padre?" asked Carmen. 

"Nothing, child--and everything! But we are neglecting our work, " hehastily added, as he roused himself. "What are the lessons for to-day?Come! come! We have much to do!" And arranging his papers, and biddingCarmen draw up to the table, he began the morning session of his veryselect little school. 

 * * * * *

More than six months had elapsed since Josè first set foot upon thehot shales of Simití. In that time his mentality had been turned overlike a fallow field beneath the plowshare. After peace had beenestablished in the country he had often thought to consecrate himselfto the task of collecting the fragmentary ideas which had been evolvedin his mind during these past weeks of strange and almost weirdexperience, and trying to formulate them into definite statements oftruth. Then he would enter upon the task of establishing them byactual demonstration, regardless of the years that might be requiredto do so. He realized now that the explorer had done a great work inclearing his mind of many of its darker shadows. But it was toCarmen's purer, more spiritual influence that he knew his debt washeaviest. 

Let it not seem strange that mature manhood and extensive travel hadnever before brought to this man's mind the truths, many of which havebeen current almost since the curtain first arose on the melodramaof mundane existence. Well nigh impassable limitations had beenset to them by his own natal characteristics; by his acutely morbidsense of filial love which bound him, at whatever cost, to observethe bigoted, selfish wishes of his parents; and by the strictnesswith which his mind had been hedged about both in the seminary andin the ecclesiastical office where he subsequently labored. Thefirst rays of mental freedom did not dawn upon his darkened thoughtuntil he was sent as an outcast to the New World. Then, when hisgreater latitude in Cartagena, and his still more expanded sense offreedom in Simití, had lowered the bars, there had rushed into hismentality such a flood of ideas that he was all but swept away in theswirling current. 

It is not strange that he rose and fell, to-day strong in theconviction of the immanence of infinite good, to-morrow sunken inmortal despair of ever demonstrating the truth of the ideas which wereswelling his shrunken mind. His line of progress in truth was anundulating curve, slowly advancing toward the distant goal to whichCarmen seemed to move in a straight, undeviating line. What thoughEmerson had said that Mind was "the only reality of which men and allother natures are better or worse reflectors"? Josè was unaware of thesage's mighty deduction. What though Plato had said that we move asshadows in a world of ideas? Even if Josè had known of it, it hadmeant nothing to him. What though the Transcendentalists called theuniverse "a metaphore of the human mind"? Josè's thought was toofirmly clutched by his self-centered, material beliefs to grasp it. Doubt of the reality of things material succumbed to the evidence ofthe physical senses and the ridicule of his seminary preceptors. True, he believed with Paul, that the "things that are seen are temporal;the things that are unseen, are eternal. " But this pregnant utteranceconveyed nothing more to him than a belief of a material heaven tofollow his exit from a world of matter. It had never occurred to himthat the world of matter might be the product of those same delusivephysical senses, through which he believed he gained his knowledge ofit. It is true that while in the seminary, and before, he had insistedupon a more spiritual interpretation of the mission of Jesus--hadinsisted that Christian priests should obey the Master's injunction, and heal the sick as well as preach the gospel. But with the advent ofthe troubles which filled the intervening years, these things hadgradually faded; and the mounting sun that dawned upon him six monthsbefore, as he lay on the damp floor of his little cell in theecclesiastical dormitory in Cartagena, awaiting the Bishop's summons, illumined only a shell, in which agnosticism sat enthroned upon astool of black despair. 

Then Carmen entered his life. And her beautiful love, which enfoldedhim like a garment, and her sublime faith, which moved before him likethe Bethlehem star to where the Christ-principle lay, were, little bylittle, dissolving the mist and revealing the majesty of the greatGod. 

In assuming to teach the child, Josè early found that the outer worldmeant nothing to her until he had purged it of its carnal elements. Often in days past, when he had launched out upon the dramatic recitalof some important historical event, wherein crime and bloodshed hadshaped the incident, the girl would start hastily from her chair andput her little hand over his mouth. 

"Don't, Padre dear! It is not true!" she would exclaim. "God didn't doit, and it isn't so!"

And thereby he learned to differentiate more closely between thosehistorical events which sprang from good motives, and those whichmanifested only human passion, selfish ambition, and the primitivequestion, "Who shall be greatest?" Moreover, he had found it best inhis frequent talks to the people in the church during the week to omitall reference to the evil methods of mankind in their dealings onewith another, and to pass over in silence the criminal aims and lowmotives, and their externalization, which have marked the unfolding ofthe human mind, and which the world preserves in its annals ashistorical fact. The child seemed to divine the great truth thathistory is but the record of human conduct, conduct manifesting themortal mind of man, a mind utterly opposed to the mind that is God, and therefore unreal, supposititious, and bearing the "minus" sign. Carmen would have none of it that did not reflect good. She refusedutterly to turn her mental gaze toward recorded evil. 

"Padre, " she once protested, "when I want to see the sun rise, I don'tlook toward the west. And if you want to see the good come up, why doyou look at these stories of bad men and their bad thoughts?"

Josè admitted that they were records of the mortal mind--and the mindthat is mortal is _no_ mind. 

"I am learning, " he frequently said to himself, after Carmen had leftat the close of their day's work. "But my real education did notcommence until I began to see, even though faintly, that the Creatoris mind and infinite good, and that there is nothing real to thebelief in evil; that the five physical senses give us _no_ testimonyof any nature whatsoever; and that real man never could, never did, fall. "

Thus the days glided swiftly past, and Josè completed his first yearamid the drowsy influences of this little town, slumbering peacefullyin its sequestered nook at the feet of the green _Cordilleras_. Nofurther event ruffled its archaic civilization; and only with rarefrequency did fugitive bits of news steal in from the outer world, which, to the untraveled thought of this primitive folk, remainedalways a realm vague and mysterious. Quietly the people followed theroutine of their colorless existence. Each morn broke softly over thelimpid lake; each evening left the blush of its roseate sunset on theglassy waters; each night wound its velvety arms gently about thenodding town, while the stars beamed like jewels through the clear, soft atmosphere above, or the yellow moonbeams stole noiselessly downthe old, sunken trail to dream on the lake's invisible waves. 

Each month, with unvarying regularity, Rosendo came and went. At timesJosè thought he detected traces of weariness, insidious andpersistently lurking, in the old man's demeanor. At times his limbstrembled, and his step seemed heavy. Once Josè had found him, seatedback of his cottage, rubbing the knotted muscles of his legs, andgroaning aloud. But when he became aware of Josè presence, the groansceased, and the old man sprang to his feet with a look of such grimdetermination written across his face that the priest smothered hisapprehensions and forbore to speak. Rosendo was immolating himselfupon his love for the child. Josè knew it; but he would not, if hecould, prevent the sacrifice. 

Each month their contributions were sent to Cartagena; and asregularly came a message from Wenceslas, admonishing them to greaterefforts. With the money that was sent to the Bishop went also asmaller packet to the two women who were caring for the unfortunateMaria's little babe. The sources of Josè's remittances to Cartagenawere never questioned by Wenceslas. But Simití slowly awakened to themysterious monthly trips of Rosendo; and Don Mario's suspicion becameconviction. He bribed men to follow Rosendo secretly. They came back, footsore and angry. Rosendo had thrown them completely off the scent. Then Don Mario outfitted and sent his paid emissary after the old man. He wasted two full months in vain search along the Guamocó trail. Butthe fever came upon him, and he refused to continue the hunt. TheAlcalde counted the cost, then loudly cursed himself and Rosendo forthe many good _pesos_ so ruthlessly squandered. Then he began to plyJosè and Rosendo with skillfully framed questions. He worried thecitizens of the village with his suggestions. Finally he bethoughthimself to apprise the Bishop of his suspicions. But secondconsideration disclosed that plan as likely to yield him nothing butloss. He knew Rosendo was getting gold from some source. But, too, hewas driving a good trade with the old man on supplies. He settled backupon his fat haunches at last, determined to keep his own counsel andlet well-enough alone for the present, while he awaited events. 

Rosendo's vivid interest in Carmen's progress was almost pathetic. When in Simití he hung over the child in rapt absorption as she workedout her problems, or recited her lessons to Josè. Often he shook hishead in witness of his utter lack of comprehension. But Carmenunderstood, and that sufficed. His admiration for the priest'slearning was deep and reverential. He was a silent worshiper, thisgreat-hearted man, at the shrine of intellect; but, alas! he himselfknew only the rudiments, which he had acquired by years of patient, struggling effort, through long days and nights filled with toil. Hisparticular passion was his Castilian mother-tongue; and the precisionwith which he at times used it, his careful selection of words, andhis wide vocabulary, occasioned Josè no little astonishment. One day, after returning from the hills, he approached Josè as the latter washearing Carmen's lessons, and, with considerable embarrassment, offered him a bit of paper on which were written in his ample handseveral verses. Josè read them, and then looked up wonderingly at theold man. 

"Why, Rosendo, these are beautiful! Where did you get them?"

"I--they are mine, Padre, " replied Rosendo, his face glowing withpleasure. 

"Yours! Do you mean that you wrote them?" Josè queried in astonishment. 

"Yes, Padre. Nights, up in Guamocó, when I had finished my work, andwhen I was so lonely, I would sometimes light my candle and try towrite out the thoughts that came to me. "

Josè could not keep back the tears. He turned his head, that Rosendomight not see them. Of the three little poems, two were indited to theVirgin Mary, and one to Carmen. He lingered over one of the verses ofthe latter, for it awoke responsive echoes in his own soul:

 "Without you, the world--a desert of sadness; But with you, sweet child--a vale of delight; You laugh, like the sunbeam--my gloom becomes gladness; You sing--from my heart flee the shadows of night. "

"I--I have written a good deal of poetry during my life, Padre. I willshow you some of it, if you wish, " Rosendo advanced, encouraged byJosè's approbation. 

"Decidedly, I would!" returned Josè with animation. "And to think, without instruction, without training! What a lesson!"

"Yes, Padre, when I think of the blessed Virgin or the little Carmen, my thoughts seem to come in poetry. " He stooped over the girl andkissed her. The child reached up and clasped her arms about his blackneck. 

"Padre Rosendo, " she said sweetly, "you are a poem, a big one, abeautiful one. "

"Aye, " seconded Josè, and there was a hitch in his voice, "you are anepic--and the world is the poorer that it cannot read you!"

But, though showing such laudable curiosity regarding the elementswhich entered into their simple life in Simití, Rosendo seldom spokeof matters pertaining to religion. Yet Josè knew that the old faithheld him, and that he would never, on this plane of existence, breakaway from it. He clung to his _escapulario_; he prostrated himselfbefore the statue of the Virgin; he invoked the aid of Virgin andSaints when in distress; and, unlike most of the male inhabitants ofthe town, he scrupulously prayed his rosary every night, whether athome, or on the lonely margins of the Tiguí. He had once said to Josèthat he was glad Padre Diego had baptised the little Carmen--he feltsafer to have it so. And yet he would not have her brought up in theHoly Catholic faith. Let her choose or formulate her own religiousbeliefs, they should not be influenced by him or others. 

"You can never make me believe, Padre, " he would sometimes say to thepriest, "that the little Carmen was not left by the angels on theriver bank. "

"But, Rosendo, how foolish!" remonstrated Josè. "You have Escolastico'saccount, and the boat captain's. "

"Well, and what then? Even the blessed Saviour was born of a woman;and yet he came from heaven. The angels brought him, guarded him as helay in the manger, protected him all his life, and then took him backto heaven again. And I tell you, Padre, the angels brought Carmen, andthey are always with her!"

Josè ceased to dispute the old man's contentions. For, had he beenpressed, he would have been forced to admit that there was in thechild's pure presence a haunting spell of mystery--perhaps the mysteryof godliness--but yet an undefinable _something_ that always made himapproach her with a feeling akin to awe. 

And in the calm, untroubled seclusion of Simití, in its mediaevalatmosphere of romance, and amid its ceaseless dreams of a stirringpast, the child unfolded a nature that bore the stamp of divinity, anature that communed incessantly with her God, and that read His namein every trivial incident, in every stone and flower, in the sunbeams, the stars, and the whispering breeze. In that ancient town, crumblinginto the final stages of decrepitude, she dwelt in heaven. To her, therude adobe huts were marble castles; the shabby rawhide chairs andhard wooden beds were softest down; the coarse food was richer than aking's spiced viands; and over it all she cast a mantle of love thatwas rich enough, great enough, to transform with the grace of freshand heavenly beauty the ruins and squalor of her earthly environment. 

"Can a child like Carmen live a sinless life, and still be human?"Josè often mused, as he watched her flitting through the sunlit hours. "It is recorded that Jesus did. Ah, yes; but he was born of a virgin, spotless herself. And Carmen? Is she any less a child of God?" Josèoften wondered, wondered deeply, as he gazed at her absorbed in hertasks. And yet--how was she born? Might he not, in the absence ofdefinite knowledge, accept Rosendo's belief--accept it because of itsbeautiful, haunting mystery--that she, too, was miraculously born of avirgin, and "left by the angels on the river bank"? For, as far as hemight judge, her life was sinless. It was true, she did at rareintervals display little outbursts of childish temper; she sometimesforgot and spoke sharply to her few playmates, and even to Doña Maria;and he had seen her cry for sheer vexation. And yet, these were buttiny shadows that were cast at rarest intervals, melting quickly whenthey came into the glorious sunlight of her radiant nature. 

But the mystery shrouding the child's parentage, however he might regardit, often roused within his mind thoughts dark and apprehensive. Only one communication had come from Padre Diego, and that some fourmonths after his precipitous flight. He had gained the Guamocó trail, it said, and finally arrived at Remedios. He purposed returning toBanco ultimately; and, until then, must leave the little Carmen in thecare of those in whom he had immovable confidence, and to whom hewould some day try, however feebly, to repay in an appropriate mannerhis infinite debt of gratitude. 

"_Caramba!_" muttered Rosendo, on reading the note. "Does the villainthink we are fools?"

But none the less could the old man quiet the fear that haunted him, nor still the apprehension that some day Diego would make capital ofhis claim. What that claim might accomplish if laid before Wenceslas, he shuddered to think. And so he kept the girl at his side when inSimití, and bound Josè and the faithful Juan to redoubled vigilancewhen he was again obliged to return to the mountains. 

Time passed. The care-free children of this tropic realm drowsedthrough the long, hot days and gossiped and danced in the soft airs ofnight. Rosendo held his unremitting, lonely vigil of toil in theghastly solitudes of Guamocó. Josè, exiled and outcast, clungdesperately to the child's hand, and strove to rise into the spiritualconsciousness in which she dwelt. And thus the year fell softly intothe yawning arms of the past and became a memory. 

Then one day Simití awoke from its lethargy in terror, with thespectre of pestilence stalking through her narrow streets. 

CHAPTER 19

Feliz Gomez, who had been sent to Bodega Central for merchandise whichDon Mario was awaiting from the coast, had collapsed as he steppedfrom his boat on his return to Simití. When he regained consciousnesshe called wildly for the priest. 

"Padre!" he cried, when Josè arrived, "it is _la plaga_! Ah, _Santísima Virgen_--I am dying!--dying!" He writhed in agony on theground. 

The priest bent over him, his heart throbbing with apprehension. 

"Padre--" The lad strove to raise his head. "The innkeeper at BodegaCentral--he told me I might sleep in an empty house back of theinn. _Dios mío!_ There was an old cot there--I slept on it twonights--_Caramba!_ Padre, they told me then--Ah, _Bendita Virgen_!Don't let me die, Padre! _Carísima Virgen_, don't let me die! _Ah, Dios--!_"

His body twisted in convulsions. Josè lifted him and dragged him tothe nearby shed where the lad had been living alone. A terror-strickenconcourse gathered quickly about the doorway and peered in wide-eyedhorror through the narrow window. 

"Feliz, what did they tell you?" cried Josè, laying the sufferer uponthe bed and chafing his cold hands. The boy rallied. 

"They told me--a Turk, bound for Zaragoza on the Nechí river--hadtaken the wrong boat--in Maganguey. He had been sick--terribly sickthere. _Ah, Dios!_ It is coming again, Padre--the pain! _Caramba!__Dios mío!_ Save me, Padre, save me!"

"Jacinta! Rosa! I must have help!" cried Josè, turning to the stunnedpeople. "Bring cloths--hot water--and send for Don Mario. Doña Lucia, prepare an _olla_ of your herb tea at once!"

"Padre"--the boy had become quieter--"when the Turk learned that hewas on the wrong boat--he asked to be put off at the next town--whichwas Bodega Central. The innkeeper put him in the empty house--andhe--_Dios_! he died--on that bed where I slept!"

"Well?" said Josè. 

"Padre, he died--the day before I arrived there--and--ah_, SantísimaVirgen_! they said--he died--of--of--_la cólera_!"

"Cholera!" cried the priest, starting up. At the mention of thedisease a loud murmur arose from the people, and they fell back fromthe shed. 

"Padre!--_ah, Dios_, how I suffer! Give me the sacrament--I cannotlive--! Padre--let me confess--now. Ah, Padre, shall I go--to heaven?Tell me--!"

Josè's blood froze. He stood with eyes riveted in horror upon thetormented lad. 

"Padre"--the boy's voice grew weaker--"I fell sick that day--I startedfor Simití--I died a thousand times in the _caño_--_ah, caramba_! But, Padre--promise to get me out of purgatory--I have no money for Masses. _Caramba!_ I cannot stand it! Oh, _Dios_! Padre--quick--I have notbeen very wicked--but I stole--_Dios_, how I suffer!--I stole twopesos from the innkeeper at Bodega Central--he thought he lostthem--but I took them out of the drawer--Padre, pay him for me--then Iwill not go to hell! _Dios!_"

Rosendo at that moment entered the house. 

"Don't come in here!" cried Josè, turning upon him in wild apprehension. "Keep away, for God's sake, keep away!"

In sullen silence Rosendo disregarded the priest's frenzied appeal. His eyes widened when he saw the boy torn with convulsions, but he didnot flinch. Only when he saw Carmen approaching, attracted by thegreat crowd, he hastily bade one of the women turn her back home. 

Hour after hour the poor sufferer tossed and writhed. Again and againhe lapsed into unconsciousness, from which he would emerge topiteously beg the priest to save him. _"Ah! Dios, Padre!"_ he pleaded, extending his trembling arms to Josè, "can you do nothing? Can you nothelp me? _Santísima Virgen_, how I suffer!"

Then, when the evening shadows were gathering, the final convulsionsseized him and wrenched his poor soul loose. Josè and Rosendo werealone with him when the end came. The people had early fled from thestricken lad, and were gathering in little groups before their homesand on the corners, discussing in low, strained tones the advent ofthe scourge. Those who had been close to the sick boy were now coldwith fear. Women wept, and children clung whimpering to their skirts. The men talked excitedly in hoarse whispers, or lapsed into a state ofterrified dullness. 

Josè went from the death-bed to the Alcalde. Don Mario saw him coming, and fled into the house, securing the door after him. "Go away, Padre!" he shouted through the shutters. "For the love of the Virgindo not come here! _Caramba!_"

"But, Don Mario, the lad is dead!" cried Josè in desperation. "Andwhat shall we do? We must face the situation. Come, you are theAlcalde. Let us talk about--"

"_Caramba!_ Do what you want to! I shall get out! _Nombre de Dios!_ IfI live through the night I shall go to the mountains to-morrow!"

"But we must have a coffin to bury the lad! You must let us haveone!"

"No! You cannot enter here, Padre!" shrilled Don Mario, jumping up anddown in his excitement. "Bury him in a blanket--anything--but keepaway from my house!"

Josè turned sadly away and passed through the deserted streets back tothe lonely shed. Rosendo met him at the door. "_Bien, Padre_, " he saidquietly, "we are exiled. "

"Have you been home yet?" asked Josè. 

"_Hombre_, no! I cannot go home now. I might carry the disease to theseñora and the little Carmen. I must stay here. And, " he added, "youtoo, Padre. "

Josè's heart turned to lead. "But, the boy?" he exclaimed, pointingtoward the bed. 

"When it is dark, Padre, " replied Rosendo, "we will take him outthrough the back door and bury him beyond the shales. _Hombre!_ I mustsee now if I can find a shovel. "

Josè sank down upon the threshold, a prey to corroding despair, whileRosendo went out in search of the implement. The streets were dead, and few lights shone from the latticed windows. The pall of fear hadsettled thick upon the stricken town. Those who were standing beforetheir houses as Rosendo approached hastily turned in and closed theirdoors. Josè, in the presence of death in a terrible form, sat mute. Inan hour Rosendo returned. 

"No shovel, Padre, " he announced. "But I crept up back of my house andgot this bar which I had left standing there when I came back from themountains. I can scrape up the loose earth with my hands. Come now. "

Josè wearily rose. He was but a tool in the hands of a man to whomphysical danger was but a matter of temperament. He absently helpedRosendo wrap the black, distorted corpse in the frayed blanket; andthen together they passed out into the night with their grewsomeburden. 

"Why not to the cemetery, Rosendo?" asked Josè, as the old man took anopposite course. 

"_Hombre_, no!" cried Rosendo. "The cemetery is on shale, and I couldnot dig through it in time. We must get the body under ground at once. _Caramba!_ If we put it in one of the _bóvedas_ in the cemetery thebuzzards will eat it and scatter the plague all over the town. The_bóvedas_ are broken, and have no longer any doors, you remember. "

So beyond the shales they went, stumbling through the darkness, theirminds freighted with a burden of apprehension more terrible than thething they bore in their arms. The shales crossed, Rosendo left thetrail, cutting a way through the bush with his _machete_ a distance ofseveral hundred feet. Then, by the weird yellow light of a singlecandle, he opened the moist earth and laid the hideous, twisted thingwithin. Josè watched the procedure in dull apathy. 

"And now, Padre, " said Rosendo, at length breaking the awful silence, "where will you sleep to-night? I cannot let you go back to yourhouse. It is too near the señora and Carmen. No man in town will letyou stay in his house, since you have handled the plague. Will yousleep in the shed where the lad died? Or out on the shales with me? Icalled to the señora when I went after the bar, and she will lay twoblankets out in the _plaza_ for us. And in the morning she will putfood where we can get it. What say you?"

Josè stood dazed. His mind had congealed with the horror of thesituation. Rosendo took him by the arm. "Come, Padre, " he said gently. "The hill up back of the second church is high, and no one lives near. I will get the blankets and we will pass the night out there. "

"But, Rosendo!" Josè found his voice. "What is it? Is it--_lacólera_?"

"_Quien sabe?_ Padre, " returned Rosendo. "There has been plaguehere--these people, some of them, still remember it--but it was longago. There have been cases along the river--and brought, I doubt not, by Turks, like this one. "

"And do you think that it is now all along the river? That BodegaCentral is being ravaged by the scourge? That it will sweep throughthe country?"

"_Quien sabe?_ Padre. All I do know is that the people of Simití areterribly frightened, and the pestilence may wipe away the town beforeit leaves. "

"But--good God! what can we do, Rosendo?"

"Nothing, Padre--but stay and meet it, " the man replied quietly. 

They reached the hill in silence. Then Rosendo wrapped himself in oneof the blankets which he had picked up as he passed through the_plaza_, and lay down upon the shale. 

But Josè slept not that night. The warm, sluggish air lay about him, mephitic in its touch. The great vampire bats that soughed through itsymbolized the "pestilence that walketh in darkness. " Lonely callsdrifted across the warm lake waters from the dripping jungle like thehollow echoes of lost souls. Rosendo tossed fitfully, and now and thenuttered deep groans. The atmosphere was prescient with horror. Hestruggled to his feet and paced gloomily back and forth along the browof the hill. The second church stood near, deserted, gloomy, no longera temple of God, but a charnel house of fear and black superstition. In the distance the ghostly white walls of the Rincón church glowedfaintly in the feeble light that dripped from the yellow stars. Therewas now no thought of God--no thought of divine aid. Josè was ridingagain the mountainous billows of fear and unbelief; nor did he lookfor the Master to come to him through the thick night across theheaving waters. 

The tardy dawn brought Doña Maria to the foot of the hill, where shedeposited food, and held distant converse with the exiles. Don Mariohad just departed, taking the direction across the lake toward SanLucas. He had compelled his wife to remain in Simití to watch over thelittle store, while he fled with two boatmen and abundant supplies. Others likewise were preparing to flee, some to the Boque river, someup the Guamocó trail. Doña Maria was keeping Carmen closely, nor wouldshe permit her to as much as venture from the house. 

"Why should not the señora take Carmen and go to Boque, Rosendo?"asked Josè. "Then you and I could occupy our own houses until we knewwhat the future had in store for us. "

Rosendo agreed at once. Carmen would be safe in the protecting care ofDon Nicolás. Doña Maria yielded only after much persuasion. From thehilltop Josè could descry the Alcalde's boat slowly wending its wayacross the lake toward the Juncal. Rosendo, having finished hismorning meal, prepared to meet the day. 

"_Bien_, Padre, " he said, "when the sun gets high we cannot stay here. We must seek shade--but where?" He looked about dubiously. 

"Why not in the old church, Rosendo?"

"_Caramba_, never!" cried Rosendo. "_Hombre!_ that old church ishaunted!"

Josè could never understand the nature of this man, so brave in theface of physical danger, yet so permeated with superstitious dread ofthose imaginary inhabitants of the invisible realm. 

"Padre, " suggested Rosendo at length. "We will go down there, nearerthe lake, to the old shack where the blacksmith had his forge. He diedtwo years ago, and the place has since been empty. "

"Go then, Rosendo, and I will follow later, " assented Josè, who nowcraved solitude for the struggle for self-mastery which he sawimpending. 

While Rosendo moved off toward the deserted shack, the priestcontinued his restless pacing along the crest of the hill. The morningwas glorious--but for the blighting thoughts of men. The vivid greenof the dewy hills shone like new-laid color. The lake lay like adiamond set in emeralds. The dead town glowed brilliantly white in themounting sun. Josè knew that the heat would soon drive him from thehill. He glanced questioningly at the old church. He walked toward it;then mounted the broken steps. The hinges, rusted and broken, had letthe heavy door, now bored through and through by _comején_ ants, slipto one side. Through the opening thus afforded, Josè could peer intothe cavernous blackness within. The sun shot its terrific heat at him, and the stone steps burned his sandaled feet. He pushed against thedoor. It yielded. Then through the opening he entered the dusty, ill-smelling old edifice. 

When his eyes had become accustomed to the dimness within, he saw thatthe interior was like that of the other church, only in a moredilapidated state. There were but few benches; and the brick altar, poorer in construction, had crumbled away at one side. Dust, mold, andcobwebs covered everything; but the air was gratefully cool. Josèbrushed the thick dust from one of the benches. Then he lay down uponit, and was soon sunk in heavy sleep. 

 * * * * *

The sun had just crossed the meridian. Josè awoke, conscious that hewas not alone. The weird legend that hung about the old churchfiltered slowly through his dazed brain. Rosendo had said that anangel of some kind dwelt in the place. And surely a presence sat onthe bench in the twilight before him! He roused up, rubbed his sleepyeyes, and peered at it. A soft laugh echoed through the stillness. 

"I looked all around for the bad angel that padre Rosendo said livedhere, and I didn't find anything but you. "

"Carmen, child! What are you doing here? Don't come near me!" criedJosè, drawing away. 

"Why, Padre--what is it? Why must I keep away from you? First, madreMaria tells me I must go to Boque with her. And now you will not letme come near you. And I love you so--" Tears choked her voice, and shesat looking in mute appeal at the priest. 

Josè's wit seemed hopelessly scattered. He passed his hand dullyacross his brow as if to brush the mist from his befogged brain. 

"Padre dear. " The pathetic little voice wrung his heart. "Padre dear, when madre Maria told me I had to go to Boque, I went to your house toask you, and--and you weren't there. And I couldn't find padre Rosendoeither--and there wasn't anybody in the streets at all--and I came uphere. Then I saw the blanket out on the hill, and I kept hunting foryou--I wanted to see you _so_ much. And when I saw the door of thechurch broken, I thought you might be in here--and so I came in--and, oh, Padre dear, I was _so_ glad to find you--but I wouldn't wake youup--and while you were sleeping I just _knew_ that God was taking careof you all the time--"

Josè had sunk again upon the bench. 

"Padre dear!" Carmen came flying to him across the darkness and threwher arms about his neck. "Padre dear! I just couldn't stand it toleave you!" The flood-gates opened wide, and the girl sobbed upon hisshoulder. 

"Carmen--child!" But his own tears were mingling freely with hers. Thestrain of the preceding night had left him weak. He strove feebly toloosen the tightly clasped arms of the weeping girl. Then he buriedhis drawn face in her thick curls and strained her to his heavingbreast. What this might mean to Carmen he knew full well. But--why nothave it so? If she preceded him into the dark vale, it would be foronly a little while. He would not live without her. 

The sobs died away, and the girl looked up at the suffering man. 

"Padre dear, you will not send me away--will you?" she pleaded. 

"No! no!" he cried fiercely, "not now!"

A happy little sigh escaped her lips. Then she drew herself closer tohim and whispered softly, "Padre dear--I love you. "

A groan burst from the man. "God above!" he cried, "have you the heartto let evil attack such a one as this!"

The girl looked up at him in wonder. "Why, Padre dear--what is it?Tell me. "

"Nothing, child--nothing! Did--er--did your madre Maria say why youmust go to Boque?" he asked hesitatingly. 

"She said Feliz Gomez died last night of the plague, and that thepeople were afraid they would all get sick and die too. And shesaid--Padre dear, she said you were afraid I would get sick, and soyou told her to take me away. You didn't mean that, did you? Shedidn't understand you, did she? You are not afraid, are you? You can'tbe, you know, can you? You and I are not afraid of anything. We_know_--don't we, Padre dear?"

"What do we know, child?" he asked sadly. 

"Why--why, we know that God is _everywhere_!" She looked at himwonderingly. What could she understand of a nature so wavering?--firmwhen the sun shone bright above--tottering when the blasts ofadversity whirled about it? He had said such beautiful things to her, such wonderful things about God and His children only yesterday. Andnow--why this awful change? Why again this sudden lowering ofstandards?

He had sunk deep into his dark thoughts. "Death is inevitable!" hemuttered grimly, forgetful of the child's presence. 

"Oh, Padre dear!" she pleaded, passing her little hand tenderly overhis cheek. Then her face brightened. "I know what it is!" sheexclaimed. "You are just trying to think that two and two areseven--and you can't prove it--and so you'd better stop trying!" Shebroke into a little forced laugh. 

Josè sat wrapped in black silence. 

"Padre dear. " Her voice was full of plaintive tenderness. "You havetalked so much about that good man Jesus. What would he say if he sawyou trying to make two and two equal seven? And if he had been herelast night--would he have let Feliz die?"

The priest made no answer. None was required when Carmen put herquestions. 

"Padre dear, " she continued softly. "Why didn't _you_ cure Feliz?"

His soul withered under the shock. 

"You have told me, often, that Jesus cured sick people. And you saidhe even made the dead ones live again--didn't you, Padre dear?"

"Yes, " he murmured; "they say he did. "

"And you read to me once from your Bible where he told the people thathe gave them power over everything. And you said he was the greatrule--you called him the Christ-principle--and you said he never wentaway from us. Well, Padre dear, " she concluded with quick emphasis, "why don't you use him now?"

She waited a moment. Then, when no reply came--

"Feliz didn't die, Padre. "

"_Hombre!_ It's all the same--he's gone!" he cried in a tone of sullenbitterness. 

"You think he is gone, Padre dear. And Feliz thought he had to go. Andso now you both see it that way--that's all. If you would see thingsthe way that good man Jesus told you to--well, wouldn't they bedifferent--wouldn't they, Padre dear?"

"No doubt they would, child, no doubt. But--"

She waited a moment for him to express the limitation which theconjunctive implied. Then:

"Padre dear, how do you think he did it? How did he cure sick people, and make the dead ones live again?"

"I--I don't know, child--I am not sure. That knowledge has been lost, long since. "

"You _do_ know, Padre, " she insisted; "you _do_! Did he know that Godwas everywhere?"

"Yes. "

"And what did he say sickness was?"

"He classed it with all evil under the one heading--a lie--a lie aboutGod. "

"But when a person tells a lie, he doesn't speak the truth, does he?"

"No. "

"And a lie has no rule, no principle?"

"No. "

"And so it isn't anything--doesn't come from anything true--hasn't anyreal life, has it?"

"No, a lie is utterly unreal, not founded on anything but supposition, either ignorant or malicious. "

"Then Jesus said sickness was a supposition, didn't he?"

"Yes. "

"And God, who made everything real, didn't make suppositions. He madeonly real things. "

"True, child. "

"Well, Padre dear, if you _know_ all that, why don't you act as if youdid?"

Act? Yes, act your knowledge! Acknowledge Him in all your ways! ThenHe shall bring it to pass! What? That which is real--life, notdeath--immortality, not oblivion--love, not hate--good, not evil!

"_Chiquita_--" His voice was thick. "You--you believe all that, don'tyou?"

"No, Padre dear"--she smiled up at him through the darkness--"I don'tbelieve it, I _know_ it. "

"But--how--how do you know it?"

"God tells me, Padre. I hear Him, always. And I prove it every day. The trouble is, you believe it, but I don't think you ever try to_prove_ it. If you believed my problems in algebra could be solved, but never tried to prove it--well, you wouldn't do very much inalgebra, would you?" She laughed at the apt comparison. 

Josè's straining eyes were peering straight ahead. Through the thickgloom he saw the mutilated figure of the Christ hanging on its crossbeside the crumbling altar. It reflected the broken image of theChrist-principle in the hearts of men. And was he not again crucifyingthe gentle Christ? Did not the world daily crucify him and nail himwith their false beliefs to the cross of carnal error which they setup in the Golgotha of their own souls? And were they not daily payingthe awful penalty therefor? Aye, paying it in agony, in torturingagony of soul and body, in blasted hopes, crumbling ambitions, andinevitable death!

"Padre dear, what did the good man say sickness came from?" Carmen'ssoft voice brought him back from his reflections. 

"Sickness? Why, he always coupled disease with sin. "

"And sin?"

"Sin is--is unrighteousness. "

"And that is--?" she pursued relentlessly. 

"Wrong conduct, based on wrong thinking. And wrong thinking is basedon wrong beliefs, false thought. "

"But to believe that there is anything but God, and the things Hemade, is sin, isn't it, Padre dear?"

"Sin is--yes, to believe in other powers than God is to break the veryfirst Commandment--and that is the chief of sins!"

"Well, Padre dear, can't you make yourself think right? Do you knowwhat you really think about God, anyway?"

Josè rose and paced up and down through the dark aisle. 

"I try to think, " he answered, "that He is mind; that He is infinite, everywhere; that He is all-powerful; that He knows all things; andthat He is perfect and good. I try not to think that He made evil, oranything that is or could be bad, or that could become sick, or decay, or die. Whatever He made must be real, and real things last forever, are immortal, eternal. I strive to think He did make man in His imageand likeness--and that man has never been anything else--that mannever 'fell. '"

"What is that, Padre?"

"Only an old, outworn theological belief. But, to resume: I believethat, since God is mind, man must be an idea of His. Since God isinfinite, man must exist in Him. I know that any number of lies can bemade up about true things. And any number of falsities can be assumedabout God and what He has made. I am sure that the material universeand man are a part of the lie about God and the way He manifests andexpresses Himself in and through His ideas. Everything is mental. We_must_ hold to that! The mental realm includes all truth, all fact. But there may be all sorts of supposition about this fact. And yet, while fact is based upon absolute and undeviating principle--and Ibelieve that principle to be God--supposition is utterly without anyrule or principle whatsoever. It is wholly subject to truth, toPrinciple, to God. Hence, bad or wrong thought is absolutely subjectto good or real thought, and must go down before it. The mortal man isa product of wrong thought. He is a supposition; and so is theuniverse of matter in which he is supposed to live. We have alreadylearned that the things he thinks he hears, feels, tastes, smells, andsees are only his own thoughts. And these turn out to be suppositions. Hence, they are nothing real. "

"Well, Padre! How fast you talk! And--such big words! I--I don't thinkI understand all you say. But, anyway, I guess it is right. " Shelaughed again. 

"I _know_ it is right!" he exclaimed, forgetting that he was talkingto a child. "Evil, which includes sickness and death, is only a falseidea of good. It is a misinterpretation, made in the thought-activitywhich constitutes what we call the human consciousness. And that isthe opposite--the suppositional opposite--of the mind that is God. Evil, then, becomes a supposition and a lie. Just what Jesus said itwas!"

"But, Padre--I don't see why you don't act as if you really believedall that!"

"Fear--only fear! It has not yet been eradicated from my thought, " heanswered slowly. 

"But, Padre, what will drive it out?"

"Love, child--love only, for 'perfect love casteth out fear. '"

"Oh, then, Padre dear, I will just love it all out of you, every bit!"she exclaimed, clasping her arms about him again and burying her facein his shoulder. 

"Ah, little one, " he said sadly, "I must love more. I must love myfellow-men and good more than myself and evil. If I didn't love myselfso much, I would have no fear. If I loved God as you do, dearestchild, I would never come under fear's heavy shadow. "

"You _do_ love everybody--you have got to, for you are God's child. And now, " she added, getting down and drawing him toward the door, "let us go out of this smelly old church. I want you to come home. We've got to have our lessons, you know. "

"But--child, the people will not let me come near them--nor youeither, now, " he said, holding back. "They think we may give them thedisease. "

She looked up at him with a tender, wistful smile. Then she shook herhead. "Padre dear, I love you, " she said, "but you make me lots oftrouble. But--we are going to love all the fear away, and--" stampingher little bare foot--"we are going to get the right answer to yourproblem, too!"

The priest took her hand, and together they passed out into thedazzling sunlight. 

On the brow of the hill stood Rosendo, talking excitedly, and withmuch vehement gesticulation, to Doña Maria, who remained a safedistance from him. The latter and her good consort exclaimed in horrorwhen they saw Carmen with the priest. 

_"Caramba!"_ cried Rosendo, darting toward them. "I could kill you forthis, Padre! _Hombre!_ How came the child here, and with you? _Diosmío!_ Have you no heart, but that, when you know you may die, youwould take her with you?" He swung his long arms menacingly before thepriest, and his face worked with passion. 

The girl ran between the two men. "Padre Rosendo!" she cried, seizingone of his hands in both of her own. "I came of myself. He did notcall me. I found him asleep. And he isn't going to die--nor I, either!"

Doña Maria approached and quietly joined the little group. 

_"Caramba! Go back!"_ cried the distressed Rosendo, turning upon her. "_Hombre! Dios y diablo!_ will you all die?" He stamped the ground andtore his hair in his impotent protest. 

"_Na_, Rosendo, " said the woman placidly, "if you are in danger, Iwill be too. If you must die, so will I. I will not be left alone. "

A thrill of admiration swept over the priest. Then he smiled wanly. "_Bien_, " he said, "we have all been exposed to the plague now, and wewill stand together. Shall we return home?"

Rosendo's anger soon evaporated, but his face retained traces of deepanxiety. "Maria tells me, Padre, " he said, "that Amado Sanchez fellsick last night with the flux, and nobody will stay with him, excepting his woman. "

"Let us go to him, then, " replied the priest. "Doña Maria, do you andCarmen return to your house, whilst Rosendo and I seek to be ofservice to those who may need us. "

Together they started down the main street of the town. Dead silencereigned everywhere. Many of the inhabitants had fled to the hills. Butthere were still many whose circumstances would not permit of flight. As they neared Rosendo's house the little party were hailed from adistance by Juan Mendoza and Pedro Cárdenas, neighbors living oneither side of Rosendo and the priest. 

"_Hola_, Padre and Don Rosendo!" they called; "you cannot return toyour homes, for you would expose us to the plague! Go back! Go back!We will burn the houses over your heads if you return!"

"But, _amigos_--" Josè began. 

"_Na_, Padre, " they cried in tense excitement, "it is for the best! Goback to the hill! We will supply you with food and blankets--but youmust not come here! Amado Sanchez is sick; Guillermo Hernandez issick. Go back! You must not expose us!" The attitude of thefrightened, desperate men was threatening. Josè saw that it would beunwise to resist them. 

"_Bien, compadres_, we will go, " he said, his heart breaking withsorrow for these children of fear. Then, assembling his little family, he turned and retraced his steps sadly through the street that burnedin lonely silence in the torrid heat. 

Carmen's eyes were big with wonder; but a happy idea soon drove allapprehension from her thought. "Padre!" she exclaimed, "we will livein the old church, and we will play house there!" She clapped herhands in merriment. 

"Never!" muttered Rosendo. "I will not enter that place! It wouldbring the plague upon me! _Na! na!_" he insisted, when they reachedthe steps, "do you go in if you wish; but I will stay outside in theshadow of the building. " Nor would the combined entreaties of Carmenand Josè induce him to yield. Doña Maria calmly and silently preparedto remain with him. 

"Pull off the old door, Padre!" cried Carmen excitedly. "And open allthe shutters. Look! Look, Padre! There goes the bad angel that padreRosendo was afraid of!" A number of bats, startled at the noise andthe sudden influx of light, were scurrying out through the open door. 

"Like the legion of demons which Jesus sent into the swine, " saidJosè. "I will tell you the story some day, _chiquita_, " he said, inanswer to her look of inquiry. 

The day passed quickly for the child, nor did she seem to cast anotherthought in the direction of the cloud which hung over the sorrowingtown. At dusk, Mendoza and Cárdenas came to the foot of the hill withfood and blankets. 

"Amado Sanchez has just died, " they reported. 

"What!" cried Josè. "So soon? Why--he fell sick only yesterday!"

"No, Padre, he had been ailing for many days--but it may have been theplague just the same. Perhaps it was with us before Feliz brought it. But we have not exposed ourselves to the disease and--Padre--there isnot a man in Simití who will bury Amado. What shall we do?"

Josè divined the man's thought. "_Bien, amigo_, " he replied. "Go youback to your homes. To-night Rosendo and I will come and bury him. "

Josè had sent Carmen and Doña Maria beyond the church, that they mightnot hear the grewsome tidings. When the men had returned to theirhomes, the little band on the hilltop ate their evening meal insilence. Then a bench was swept clean for Carmen's bed, for sheinsisted on sleeping in the old church with Josè when she learned thathe intended to pass the night there. 

Again, as the heavy shadows were gathering, Josè and Rosendo descendedinto the town and bore out the body of Amado Sanchez to a restingplace beside the poor lad who had died the day before. To a man ofsuch delicate sensibilities as Josè, whose nerves were raw fromcontinual friction with a world with which he was ever at variance, this task was one of almost unendurable horror. He returned to the oldchurch in a state bordering on collapse. 

"Rosendo, " he murmured, as they seated themselves on the hillside inthe still night, "I think we shall all die of the plague. And it werewell so. I am tired, utterly tired of striving to live against suchodds. _Bien_, let it come!"

"Courage, _compadre_!" urged Rosendo, putting his great arm about thepriest's shoulders. "We must all go some time, and perhaps now; butwhile we live let us live like men!"

"You do not fear death?"

"No--what is it that the old history of mine says? 'Death is notdeparting, but arriving. ' I am not afraid. But the little Carmen--Iwish that she might live. She--ah, Padre, she could do much good inthe world. _Bien_, we are all in the hands of the One who brought ushere--and He will take us in the way and at the time that Heappoints--is it not so, Padre?"

Josè lapsed again into meditation. No, he could not say that it wasso. The thoughts which he had expressed to Carmen that morning stillflitted through his mind. The child was right--Rosendo's philosophywas that of resignation born of ignorance. It was the despair ofdoubt. And he did not really think that Carmen would be smitten of theplague. Something seemed to tell him that it was impossible. But, onthe other hand, he would himself observe every precaution in regard toher. No, he would not sleep in the church that night. He had handledthe body of the plague's second victim, and he could not rest near thechild. Perhaps exposure to the night air and the heavy dews wouldserve to cleanse him. And so he wrapped himself in the blanket whichDoña Maria brought from within the church, and lay down beside thefaithful pair. 

In the long hours of that lonely night Josè lay beneath the shimmeringstars pondering, wondering. Down below in the smitten town the poorchildren of his flock were eating their hearts out in anxious dreadand bitter sorrow. Was it through any fault of theirs that this thinghad come upon them, like a bolt from a cloudless sky? No--except thatthey were human, mortal. And if the thing were real, it came from themind that is God; if unreal--but it seemed real to these simple folk, terribly so!

His heart yearned toward them as his thought penetrated the stillreaches of the night and hovered about their lonely vigil. Yet, whathad he to offer? What balm could he extend to those wearing out wearyhours on beds of agony below? Religion? True religion, if they couldbut understand it; but not again the empty husks of the faith that hadbeen taught them in the name of Christ! Where did scholastic theologystand in such an hour as this? Did it offer easement from theirtorture of mind and body? No. Strength to bear in patience their heavyburden? No. Hope? Not of this life--nay, naught but the thread-worn, undemonstrable promise of a life to come, if, indeed, they mighthappily avoid the pangs of purgatory and the horrors of the quenchlessflames of hell! God, what had not the Church to answer for!

And yet, these ignorant children were but succumbing to theevidence of their material senses--though small good it would do totell them so! Could they but know--as did Carmen--that rejection oferror and reception of truth meant life--ah, could they but know!Could he himself but know--really _know_--that God is neither theproducer of evil, nor the powerless witness of its ravages--couldhe but understand and prove that evil is not a self-existingentity, warring eternally with God, what might he not accomplish!For Jesus had said: "These signs"--the cure of disease, the rout ofdeath--"shall follow them that believe, " that understand, thatknow. Why could he not go down to those beds of torture and saywith the Christ: "Arise, for God hath made thee whole"? He knewwhy--"without faith it is impossible to please Him: for he thatcometh of God must believe"--must _know_--"that He is a rewarder ofthem that diligently seek Him. " The suffering victims in the townbelow were asleep in a state of religious dullness. The task ofindependent thinking was onerous to such as they. Gladly did theyleave it to the Church to do their thinking for them. And thus didthey suffer for the trust betrayed!

But truth is omnipotent, and "one with God is a majority. " Jesus gavefew rules, but none more fundamental than that "with God all thingsare possible. " Was he, Josè, walking with God? If so, he might ariseand go down into the stricken town and bid its frightened children bewhole. If he fully recognized "the Father" as all-powerful, all-good, and if he could clearly see and retain his grasp on thetruth that evil, the supposititious opposite of good, had neitherplace nor power, except in the minds of mortals receptive to it--ah, then--then----

A soft patter of little feet on the shales broke in upon his thought. He turned and beheld Carmen coming through the night. 

"Padre dear, " she whispered, "why didn't you come and sleep in thechurch with me?" She crept close to him. He had not the heart nor thecourage to send her away. He put out his arm and drew her to him. 

"Padre dear, " the child murmured, "it is nice out here under thestars--and I want to be with you--I love you--love you--" The whisperdied away, and the child slept on his arm. 

"Perfect love casteth out fear. "

CHAPTER 20

Dawn brought Juan Mendoza and Pedro Cárdenas again to the hill, andwith them came others. "Mateo Gil, Pablo Polo, and Juanita Gomez aresick, Padre, " announced Mendoza, the spokesman. "They ask for the lastsacrament. You could come down and give it to them, and then return tothe hill, is it not so?"

"Yes, " assented Josè, "I will come. "

"And, Padre, " continued Mendoza, "we talked it over last night, afterAmado Sanchez died, and we think it would help if you said a Mass forus in the church to-day. "

"I will do so this afternoon, after I have visited the sick, " hereplied pityingly. 

Mendoza hesitated. Then--

"We think, too, Padre, that if we held a procession--in honor of SantaBarbara--perhaps she would pray for us, and might stop the sickness. We could march through the town this evening, while you stood here andprayed as we passed around the hill. What say you, Padre?"

Josè was about to express a vehement protest. But the anxious facesdirected toward him melted his heart. 

"Yes, children, " he replied gently, "do as you wish. Keep your housesthis afternoon while I visit the sick and offer the Mass. I will leavethe _hostia_ on the altar. You need not fear to touch it. Carry itwith you in your rogation to Santa Barbara this evening, and I willstand here and pray for you. "

The people departed, sorrowing, but grateful. Hope revived in thebreasts of some. But most of them awaited in trembling the icy touchof the plague. 

"Padre, " said Rosendo, when the people had gone. "I have been thinkingabout the sickness, and I remember what my father told me he learnedfrom a Jesuit missionary. It was that the fat from a human body wouldcure rheumatism. And then the missionary laughed and said that the fatfrom a plump woman would cure all diseases of mind and body. If thatis so, Padre, and Juanita Gomez dies--she is very plump, Padre--couldwe not take some of the fat from her body and rub it on the sick--"

"God above, Rosendo! what are you saying!" cried Josè recoiling inhorror. 

_"Caramba!"_ retorted the honest man. "Would you not try everythingthat might possibly save these people? What the missionary said may betrue. "

"No, my faithful ally, " replied Josè. "You did not get the sense inwhich he said it. Neither human fat nor medicine of any kind will helpthese people. Nothing will be accomplished for them until their fearhas been removed. For, I--well, the symptoms manifested by poor Felizmay have been those of Asiatic cholera. But--I begin to doubt. And asfor Sanchez--_Bien_, we do not know--not for certain. " He stopped andpondered the question. 

"Padre, " pursued Rosendo, "I have used the liver of a lizard fortoothache, and it was very good. "

"I have no doubt of it, Rosendo, " replied Josè, with a smile. "And indays past stranger remedies than that were used by supposedly wisepeople. When the eyesight was poor, they rubbed wax from the human earupon the eyes, and I doubt not marvelous restorations of sight weremade. So also dogs' teeth were ground into powder and taken toalleviate certain bodily pains. Almost everything that could beswallowed has been taken by mankind to cure their aches and torments. But they still ache to-day; and will continue to do so, I believe, until their present state of mind greatly changes. "

When the simple midday meal of corn _arepa_ and black coffee wasfinished, Josè descended into the quiet town. "It is absurd that weshould be kept on the hill, " he had said to Rosendo, "but these dull, simple minds believe that, having handled those dead of the plague, wehave become agents of infection. They forget that they themselves areliving either in the same house with it, or closely adjacent. But ithumors them, poor children, and we will stay here for their sakes. "

"_Caramba!_ and they have made us their sextons!" muttered Rosendo. 

Josè shuddered. The clammy hand of fear again reached for his heart. He turned to Carmen, who was busily occupied in the shade of the oldchurch. 

"Your lessons, _chiquita_?" he queried, going to her for a moment'sabstraction. 

"No, Padre dear, " she replied, smiling up at him, while she quicklyconcealed the bit of paper on which she had been writing. 

"Then what are you doing, little one?" he insisted. 

"Padre dear--don't--don't always make me tell you everything, " shepleaded, but only half in earnest, as she cast an enigmatical glanceat him. 

"But this time I insist on knowing; so you might as well tell me. "

"Well then, if you must know, " she replied, her face beaming with ahappiness which seemed to Josè strangely out of place in that tenseatmosphere, "I have been writing a question to God. " She held out thepaper. 

"Writing a question to God! Well--!"

"Why, yes, Padre dear. I have done that for a long, long time. When Iwant to know what to do, and think I don't see just what is best, Iwrite my question to God on a piece of paper. Then I read it to Him, and tell Him I know He knows the answer and that He will tell me. Andthen I put the paper under a stone some place, and--well, that's all, Padre. Isn't it a good way?" She beamed at him like a glorious noondaysun. 

The priest stood before her in wonder and admiration. "And does Hetell you the answers to your questions, _chiquita_?" he askedtenderly. 

"Always, Padre dear. Not always right away--but He never fails--never!"

"Will you tell me what you are asking Him now?" he said. 

She handed him the paper. His eyes dimmed as he read:

 "Dear, dear Father, please tell your little girl and her dear Padre Josè what it is that makes the people think they have to die down in the town. "

"And where will you put the paper, little girl?" he asked, striving tocontrol his voice. 

"Why, I don't know, Padre. Oh, why not put it under the altar in thisold church?" she exclaimed, pleased with the thought of such a novelhiding place. 

"Excellent!" assented Josè; and together they entered the building. After much stumbling over rubbish, much soiling of hands anddisturbing of bats and lizards, while Carmen's happy laugh rangmerrily through the gloomy old pile, they laid the paper carefullyaway behind the altar in a little pocket, and covered it with an adobebrick. 

"There!" panted the girl, the task finished. "Now we will wait for theanswer. "

Josè went down into the ominous silence of the town with a lighterheart. The sublime faith of the child moved before him like a beacon. To the sick he spoke words of comfort, with the vision of Carmenalways before him. At the altar in the empty church, where he offeredthe Mass in fulfillment of his promise to the people, her fair formglowed with heavenly radiance from the pedestal where before had stoodthe dilapidated image of the Virgin. He prepared the sacred wafer andleft a part of it on the altar for the people to carry in theirprocession to Santa Barbara. The other portion he took to the sickones who had asked for the sacrament. 

Two more had fallen ill that afternoon. Mateo Gil, he thought, couldnot live the night through. He knelt at the loathsome bedside of thesuffering man and prayed long and earnestly for light. He tried not toask, but to know. While there, he heard a call from the street, announcing the passing of Guillermo Hernandez. Another one! His heartsank again. The plague was upon them in all its cruel virulence. 

Sadly he returned to the hill, just as the sun tipped the highestpeaks of the _Cordilleras_. Standing on the crest, he waited withheavy heart, while the mournful little procession wended its sad waythrough the streets below. An old, battered wooden image of one of theSaints, rescued from the oblivion of the _sacristía_, had been dressedto represent Santa Barbara. This, bedecked with bits of bright coloredribbon, was carried at the head of the procession by the faithfulJuan. Following him, Pedro Gonzales, old and tottering, bore a dinnerplate, on which rested the _hostia_, while over the wafer a tall younglad held a soiled umbrella, for there was no canopy. 

A slow chant rose from the lips of the people like a dirge. It struckthe heart of the priest like a chill wind. _"Ora pro nobis! Ora pronobis!"_ Tears streamed from his eyes while he gazed upon his strickenpeople. Slowly, wearily, they wound around the base of the hill, somesullen with despair, others with eyes turned beseechingly upward towhere the priest of God stood with outstretched hands, his full heartpouring forth a passionate appeal to Him to turn His light upon thesesimple-minded children. When they had gone back down the road, theirbare feet raising a cloud of thick dust which hid them from his view, Josè sank down upon the rock and buried his face in his hands. 

"I know--I think I know, oh, God, " he murmured; "but as yet I have notproved--not yet. But grant that I may soon--for their sakes. "

Rosendo touched his shoulder. "There is another body to bury to-night, Padre. Eat now, and we will go down. "

 * * * * *

Standing over the new grave, in the solemn hush of night, the priestmurmured: "I am the resurrection and the life. " But the mound uponwhich Rosendo was stolidly heaping the loose earth marked only anothervictory of the mortal law of death over a human sense of life. Andthere was no one there to call forth the sleeping man. 

"Behold, I give you power over all things, " said the marvelous Jesus. The wondrous, irresistible power which he exerted in behalf ofsuffering humanity, he left with the world when he went away. Butwhere is it now?

"Still here, " sighed the sorrowing priest, "still here--lo, alwayshere--but we know it not. Sunken in materiality, and enslaved to thefalse testimony of the physical senses, we lack the spirituality thatalone would enable us to grasp and use that Christ-power, which is theresurrection and the life. "

"Padre, " said Rosendo, when they turned back toward the hill, "Hernandez is now with the angels. You gave him the sacrament, did younot?"

"Yes, Rosendo. "

"_Bien_, then you remitted his sins, and he is doubtless in paradise. But, " he mused, "it may be that he had first to pass throughpurgatory. _Caramba!_ I like not the thought of those hot fires!"

"Rosendo!" exclaimed Josè in impatience. "Your mental wanderings attimes are puerile! You talk like the veriest child! Do not bedeceived, Hernandez is still the same man, even though he has left hisearthly body behind. Do not think he has been lifted at once intoeternal bliss. The Church has taught such rubbish for ages, and hasbased its pernicious teachings upon the grossly misunderstood words ofJesus. The Church is a failure--a dead, dead failure, in every senseof the word! And that man lying there in his grave is a ghastly proofof it!"

Rosendo looked wonderingly at the excited priest, whose bitter wordsrang out so harshly on the still night air. 

"The Church has failed utterly to preserve the simple gospel of theChrist! It has basely, wantonly betrayed its traditional trust! It hasfought and slain and burned for centuries over trivial, vulnerablenon-essentials, and thrown its greatest pearls to the swine! It nolonger prophesies; it carps and reviles! It no longer heals the sick;but it conducts a purgatorial lottery at so much a head! It has becomea jumble of idle words, a mumbling of silly formulæ, a category ofstupid, insensate ceremonies! Its children are taught to derive theirfaith from such legends as that of the holy Saint Francis, who, toconvince a heretic, showed the _hostia_ to an ass, which on beholdingthe sacred dough immediately kneeled! Good God!"

"_Ca-ram-ba!_ But you speak hard words, Padre!" muttered Rosendo, vague speculations flitting through his brain as to the priest'smental state. 

"God!" continued Josè heatedly, "the Church has fought truthdesperately ever since the Master's day! It has fawned at the feet ofemperor and plutocrat, and licked the bloody hand of the usurer whotossed her a pittance of his foul gains! In the great world-battlesfor reform, for the rights of man, for freedom from the slavery of manto man or to drink and drugs, she has come up only as the smoke hascleared away, but always in time to demand the spoils! She has filchedfrom the systems of philosophy of every land and age, and afterbedaubing them with her own gaudy colors, has foisted them uponunthinking mankind as divine decrees and mandates! She has foullyinsulted God and man!--"

"_Caramba_, Padre! You are not well! _Hombre_, we must get back to thehill! You are falling sick!"

"I am not, Rosendo! You voice the Church's stock complaint of everyman who exposes her shams: 'He hath a devil!'"

Rosendo whistled softly. Josè went on more excitedly:

"You ask if Hernandez is in paradise or purgatory. He is in a state nobetter nor worse than our own, for both are wholly mental. We are nowin the fires of as great a purgatory as any man can ever experience!Yes, there is a purgatory--right here on earth--and it follows usafter death, and after every death that we shall die, until we learnto know God and see Him as infinite good, without taint or trace ofevil! The flames of hell are eternal to us as long as we eat of 'thetree of the knowledge of good and evil'--as long as we believe inother powers than God--as long as we believe sin and disease and evilto be as real and as potent as good! When we know these things asawful human illusions, and when we recognize God as the infinite mindthat did not create evil, and does not know or behold it, then, andthen only, will the flames of purgatory and hell in this state ofconsciousness which we mistakenly call life, and in the states ofconsciousness still to come, begin to diminish in intensity, andfinally die out!"

He walked along in silence for some moments. Then he turned to Rosendoand put his hand affectionately upon the old man's shoulder. "My goodfriend, " he said more calmly, "I speak with intense feeling, for Ihave suffered much through the intolerance, the unspirituality, andthe worldly ambition of the agents of Holy Church. I suffer, because Isee what she is, and how widely she has missed the mark. But, worse, Isee how blindly, how cruelly, she leads and betrays her trustingchildren--and it is the thought of that which at times almost drivesme mad! But never mind me, Rosendo. Let me rave. My full heart mustempty itself. Do you but look to Carmen for your faith. She is not ofthe Church. She knows God, and she will lead you straight to Him. Andas you follow her, your foolish ideas of purgatory, hell, andparadise, of wafers and virgins--all the tawdry beliefs which theChurch has laid upon you, will drop off, one by one, and melt away asdo the mists on the lake when the sun mounts high. "

Carmen and Doña Maria sat against the wall of the old church, waitingfor them. The child ran through the darkness and grasped Josè's hand. 

"I wouldn't go to sleep until you came, Padre!" she cried happily. "Iwanted to be sure you wouldn't sleep anywhere else than right next tome. "

"Padre, " admonished Rosendo anxiously, "do you think you ought to lether come close to you now? The plague--"

Josè turned to him and spoke low. "There is no power or influence thatwe can exert upon her, Rosendo, either for good or evil. She isobeying a spiritual law of which we know but little. "

"And that, Padre?"

"Just this, Rosendo: _'Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mindis stayed on thee. '_"

The late moon peeped timidly above the drowsing treetops. Its yellowbeams stole silently across the still lake and up the hillside to thecrumbling church. When they reached the four quiet figures, huddledclose against the ghostly wall, they filtered like streams of liquidgold through the brown curls of the little head lying on the priest'sshoulder. And there they dwelt as symbols of Love's protecting careover the trusting children of this world, until the full dawn of theglorious sun of Truth. 

CHAPTER 21

Josè rose from his hard bed stiff and weary. Depression sat heavilyupon his soul, and he felt miserably unable to meet the day. DoñaMaria was preparing the coffee over a little fire back of the church. The odor of the steaming liquid drifted to him on the warm morning airand gave him a feeling of nausea. A sharp pain shot through his body. His heart stopped. Was the plague's cold hand settling upon him?Giddiness seized him, and he sat down again upon the rocks. 

In the road below a cloud of dust was rising, and across the distancea murmur of voices floated up to his ears. Men were approaching. Hewondered dully what additional trouble it portended. Rosendo came tohim at that moment. 

"_Muy buenos dias, Padre. _ I saw a boat come across the lake someminutes ago. I wonder if Don Mario has returned. "

The men below were ascending the hill. Josè struggled to his feet andwent forth to meet them. A familiar voice greeted him cheerily. 

"_Hola, Señor Padre Josè!_ _Dios mío_, but your hill is steep!"

Josè strained his eyes at the newcomer. The man quickly gained thesummit, and hurried to grasp the bewildered priest's hand. 

"Love of the Virgin! don't you know me, _Señor Padre_?" he cried, slapping Josè roundly upon the back. 

The light of recognition slowly came into the priest's eyes. The manwas Don Jorge, his erstwhile traveling companion on the Magdalenariver. 

"And now a cup of that coffee, if you will do me the favor, my good_Cura_. And then tell me what ails you here, " he added, seatinghimself. "_Caramba_, what a town! Diego was right--the devil himselfmade this place! But they say you have all taken to dying! Have younothing else to do? _Caramba_, I do not wonder! Such a God-forsakenspot! Well, what is it? Speak, man!"

Josè collected his scattered thoughts. "The cholera!" he saidhoarsely. 

"Cholera! _Caramba!_ so they told me down below, and I would notbelieve them! But where did it come from?"

"One of our men brought it from Bodega Central. "

"Bodega Central!" ejaculated Don Jorge. "Impossible! I came from therethis morning myself. Have been there two days. There isn't a trace ofcholera in the place, as far as I know! You have all gone crazy--butsmall wonder!" looking out over the decrepit town. 

The priest's head was awhirl. He felt his senses leaving him. His earswere reporting things basely false. "You say--" he began inbewilderment. 

"I say what I have said, _amigo_! There is no more cholera in BodegaCentral than there is in heaven! I arrived there day before yesterday, and left before sunrise this morning. So I should know. "

Josè sank weakly down at the man's side. "But--Don Jorge--Feliz Gomezreturned from there three nights ago, and reported that a Turk, whohad come up from the coast, had died of the plague!"

Don Jorge's brows knit in perplexity. "I recall now, " he said slowly, after some moments of study. "The innkeeper did say that a Turk haddied there--some sort of intestinal trouble, I believe. When I toldhim I was bound for Simití, he laughed as if he would split, and thenbegan to talk about the great fright he had given a man from here. Said he scared the fellow until his black face turned white. But I wasoccupied with my own affairs, and paid him little attention. But come, tell me all about it. "

With the truth slowly dawning upon his clouded thought, Josè relatedthe grewsome experiences of the past three days. 

_"Ca-ram-ba!"_ Don Jorge whistled softly. "Who would have thought it!But, was Feliz Gomez sick before he went to Bodega Central?"

"I do not know, " replied Josè. 

"Yes, señor, " interposed Rosendo. "He and Amado Sanchez both had boweltrouble. Their women told my wife so, after you and I, Padre, had comeup here to the hill. But it was nothing. We have it here often, as youknow. "

"True, " assented Josè, "but we have never given it any seriousthought. "

Don Jorge leaned back and broke into a roar of laughter. "_Por el amordel cielo!_ You are all crazy, _amigo_--you die like rats of fear! Didyou ever put a mouse into a bottle and then scare it to death with aloud noise? _Hombre!_ That is what has happened to you!" The hillreverberated with his loud shouts. 

But Josè could not share in the merriment. The awful consequences ofthe innkeeper's coarse joke upon the childish minds of these poor, impressionable people pressed heavily upon his heart. Bitter tearswelled to his eyes. He sprang to his feet. 

"Come, Rosendo!" he cried. "We must go down and tell these people thetruth!"

Don Jorge joined them, and they all hastened down into the town. Ramona Chaves met them in the _plaza_, her eyes streaming. 

"Padre, " she wailed, "my man Pedro has the sickness! He is dying!"

"Nothing of the kind, Ramona!" loudly cried Josè; "there is no cholerahere!" He hastened to the bedside of the writhing Pedro. 

"Up, man!" he shouted, seizing his hand. "Up! You are not sick! Thereis no cholera in Simití! There is none in Bodega Central! Feliz didnot bring it! He and Amado had only a touch of the flux, and they diedof fear!"

The priest's ringing words acted upon the man like magic. He roused upfrom his lethargy and stared at the assemblage. Don Jorge repeated thepriest's words, and added his own laughing and boisterous comments. Pedro rose from his bed, and stood staring. 

Together, their little band augmented at every corner by the startledpeople, they hurried to the homes of all who lay upon beds ofsickness, spreading the glad tidings, until the little town was in astate of uproar. Like black shadows before the light, the plague fledinto the realm of imagination from which it had come. By night, allbut Mateo Gil were up and about their usual affairs. But even Mateohad revived wonderfully; and Josè was confident that the good newswould be the leaven of health that would work a complete restorationwithin him in time. The exiles left the hilltop and the old church, and returned again to their homes. Don Jorge took up his abode withJosè. 

"_Bien_, " he said, as they sat at the rear door of the priest's house, looking through the late afternoon haze out over the lake, "you havehad a strange experience--_Caramba_! most strange!--and yet one fromwhich you should gather an excellent lesson. You are dealing withchildren here--children who have always been rocked in the cradle ofthe Church. But--" looking archly at Josè, "do I offend? For, as Itold you on the boat a year ago, I do not think you are a goodpriest. " He laughed softly. "_Bien_, " he added, "I will correct that. You are good--but not a priest, is it not so?"

"I have some views, Don Jorge, which differ radically from those ofthe faith, " Josè said cautiously. 

"_Caramba!_ I should hope so!" his friend ejaculated. 

"But, " interposed Josè, anxious to direct the conversation into otherchannels, "may I ask how and where you have occupied yourself since Ileft the boat at Badillo?"

"Ah, _Dios_!" said Don Jorge, shaking his head, although his eyestwinkled. "I have wandered ever since--and am poorer now than when Istarted. I left our boat at Puerto Nacional, to go to Medellin; andfrom there to Remedios and Guamocó. But while in the river town I metanother _guaquero_--grave hunter, you know--who was preparing to go toHonda, to investigate the 'castles' at that place. There is a strangelegend--you may have heard it--hanging over those rocks. It appearsthat a lone hermit lived in one of the many caverns in the greatlimestone deposits rising abruptly from the river near the town ofHonda. How he came there, no one knew. Day after day, year after year, he labored in his cave, extending it further into the hillside. Peoplelaughed at him for tunneling in that barren rock, for gold has neverbeen found anywhere in it. But the fellow paid them no attention; andgradually he was accepted as a harmless fanatic, and was leftunmolested to dig his way into the hill as far as he would. Yearspassed. No one knew how the fellow lived, for he held no humanintercourse. Kind people often brought food and left it at the mouthof his cavern, but he would have none of it. They brought clothes, butthey rotted where they were left. What he ate, no one could discover. At last some good soul planted a fig tree near the cave, hoping thatthe fruit in time would prove acceptable to him. One day they foundthe tree cut down. _Bien_, time passed, and he was forgotten. One daysome men, passing the cave, found his body, pale and thin, with long, white hair, lying at the entrance. But--_Caramba_! when they buriedthe body they found it was that of a woman!"

He paused to draw some leaves of tobacco from his wallet and roll athick cigar. The sudden turn of his story drew an expression ofamazement from the priest. 

"_Bien_, " he resumed, "where the woman came from, and who she was, never was learned. Nor how she lived. But of course some one must havesupplied her with food and clothes all these years. Perhaps she wassome grand dame, with a dramatic past, who had come there to escapethe world and do penance for her sins. What sorrow, what black tragedythat cave concealed, no one may ever know! Nor am I at all interestedin that. The point is, either she found gold there, or had a quantityof it that she brought with her--at least so I thought at the time. So, when the _guaquero_ at Puerto Nacional told me the story, nothingwould do but I must go with him to search the cave. _Caramba!_ Wewasted three full months prying around there--and had our labor forour pains!"

He tilted his chair back and puffed savagely at his cigar. 

"Well, then I got on the windy side of another legend, a wild tale ofburied treasure in the vicinity of Mompox. Of course I hurried afterit. Spent six months pawing the hot dirt around that old town. Fell inwith your estimable citizen, Don Felipe, who swindled me out of ahundred good _pesos oro_ on a fraudulent location and a forged map. Then I cursed him and the place and went up to Banco. "

"Banco!" Josè's heart began beating rapidly. Don Jorge went on:

"Your genial friend Diego is back there. Told me about his trip toSimití to see his little daughter. "

"What did he say about her, _amigo_?" asked Josè in a controlledvoice. 

"Not much--only that he expected to send for her soon. You know, Rosendo's daughter is living with him. Fine looking wench, too!"

"But, Don Jorge, " pursued Josè anxiously, "what think you, is thelittle Carmen Diego's child?"

"_Hombre!_ How should I know? He no doubt has many. "

"She does not look like him, " asserted Josè, clinging to his note ofoptimism. 

"No. And fortunate she is in that! _Caramba_, but he looks like an impfrom sheol!"

Josè saw that little consolation was to be derived from Don Jorge asfar as Carmen was concerned. So he allowed the subject to lapse. 

"_Bien_, " continued Don Jorge, whose present volubility was instriking contrast to his reticence on the boat the year before, "I hadoccasion to come up to Bodega Central--another legend, if I mustconfess it. And there Don Carlos Norosí directed me here. "

"What a life!" exclaimed Josè. 

"Yes, no doubt it appears so to you, _Señor Padre_, " replied DonJorge. "And yet my business, that of treasure hunting, has in timespast proved very lucrative. The Indian graves of Colombia have yieldedenormous quantities of gold. The Spaniards opened many of them; and inone, that of a famous chieftain, discovered down below us, nearZaragoza, they found a solid gold pineapple, a marvelous piece ofworkmanship, and of immense value. They sent it to the king of Spain. _Caramba_! it never would have reached him if I had been there!

"But, " he resumed, "we have no idea of the amount of treasure that hasbeen buried in various parts of Colombia. This country has been, andstill is, enormously rich in minerals--a veritable gold mine ofitself. And since the time of the Spanish conquest it has been in astate of almost constant turmoil. Nothing and nobody has been safe. And, up to very recent times, whenever the people collected a bit ofgold above their daily needs, they promptly banked it with good MotherEarth. Then, like as not, they got themselves killed in the wars, andthe treasure was left for some curious and greedy hunter like myselfto dig up years after. The Royalists and Tories buried huge sums allover the country during the War of Independence. Why, it was only ayear or so ago that two men came over from Spain and went up theMagdalena river to Bucaramanga. They were close-mouthed fellows, well-dressed, and evidently well-to-do. But they had nothing to say toanybody. The innkeeper pried around until he discovered that theyspent much time in their room poring over maps and papers. Then theyset off alone, with an outfit of mules and supplies to last severalweeks. _Bueno_, they came back at last with a box of good size, madeof mahogany, and bound around with iron bands. _Caramba!_ They did nottarry long, you may be sure. And I learned afterward that they sailedaway safely from Cartagena, box and all, for sunny Spain, where, Idoubt not, they are now living in idleness and gentlemanly ease onwhat they found in the big coffer they dug up near that old Spanishcity. "

Josè listened eagerly. To him, cooped up for a year and more in thenarrow confines of Simití, the ready flow of this man's conversationwas like a fountain of sparkling water to a thirsty traveler. He urgedhim to go on, plying him with questions about his strange avocation. 

"_Caramba_, but the old Indian chiefs were wise fellows!" Don Jorgepursued. "They seemed to know that greedy vandals like myself wouldsome day poke around in their last resting places for the gold thatwas always buried with them--possibly to pay their freight across thedark river. And so they dug their graves in the form of an L, in theextreme tip of which the royal carcasses were laid. In this way theyhave deceived many a grave-hunter, who dug straight down withoutfinding the body, which was safely tucked away in the toe of the L. Ihave gone back and reopened many a grave that I had abandoned asempty, and found His Royal Highness five or six feet to one side ofthe straight shaft I had previously sunk. "

"I suppose, " mused Josè, "that you now follow this work because of itsfascination--for you must have found and laid aside much treasure inthe years that you have pursued it. "

_"Caramba!"_ ejaculated the _guaquero_. "I have been rich and poor, like the rising and setting of the sun! What I find, I spend againhunting more. It is the way of the world. The man who has enough moneynever knows it. And his greed for more--more that he needs not, andcannot possibly spend on himself--generally results, as in my case, inthe loss of what he already has. But there are reasons aside from theexcitement of the chase that keep me at it. "

He fell strangely silent, and Josè knew that there were aroused withinhim memories that seared the tissues of the brain as they entered. 

"_Amigo_, " Don Jorge resumed. His voice was low, tense and cold. "There are some things which I am trying to forget. This exciting anddangerous business of mine keeps my thought occupied. I care nothingnow for the treasure I may discover. But I crave forgetfulness. Do youunderstand?"

"Surely, good friend, " replied Josè quickly; "and I ask pardon forrecalling those things to you. "

_"De nada, amigo!"_ said Don Jorge, with a gesture of deprecation. Then: "I told you on the boat that I had lost a wife and girl. TheChurch got them both. I tell you this because I know you, too, havegrievances against her. _Caramba!_ Yet I will tell you only a part. Ilived in Maganguey, where my wife's brother kept a store and did anexcellent commission business. I was mining and hunting graves in theCauca region, sometimes going up the Magdalena, too, and working onboth sides of the river. Maganguey was a convenient place for me tolive, as it stands at the junction of the two great rivers. Besides, my wife wished to remain near her own people. _Bien_, we had adaughter. She grew up fair and good. And then, one day, the priesttold my wife that the girl was destined to a great future, and mustenter a convent and consecrate herself to the Church. _Caramba!_ I amnot a Catholic--was never one! My parents were patriots, and both tookpart in the great war that gave liberty to this country. But they wereliberal in thought; and I was never confirmed to the Church. _Bien_, the priest made my life a hell--my wife became estranged from me--andone day, returning from the Cauca, I found my house deserted. Wife andgirl and the child's nurse had gone down the river!"

The man's face darkened, and hard lines drew around his mouth. 

"They had taken my money chest, some thousands of pesos. I sought thepriest. He laughed at me, and--_Caramba_! I struck him such a blowbetween his pig eyes that he lay senseless for hours!"

Josè glanced at the broad shoulders and the great knots of muscle onthe man's arms. He was of medium height, but with a frame of iron. 

"_Bien, Señor Padre_, I, too, fled wild and raving from Maganguey thatnight, and plunged into the jungle. Months later I drifted down theriver, as far as Mompox. And there one day I chanced upon oldMarcelena, the child's nurse. Like a _cayman_ I seized her and draggedher into an alley. She confessed that my wife and girl were livingthere--the wife had become housekeeper for a young priest--the girlwas in the convent. _Caramba!_ I hurled the woman to the ground andturned my back upon the city!"

Josè's interest in the all too common recital received a suddenstimulus. 

"Your daughter's name, Don Jorge, was--"

"Maria, _Señor Padre_. "

"And--she would now be, how old, perhaps?"

"About twenty-two, I think. "

"Her appearance?"

"Fair--complexion light, like her mother's. Maria was a beautifulchild--and good as she was beautiful. "

"But--the child's nurse remained with her?"

"Marcelena? Yes. She was devoted to the little Maria. The woman wasold and ugly--but she loved the child. "

"Did you not inquire for them when you were in Mompox a few monthsago?" pursued Josè eagerly. 

"I made slight inquiry through the clerk in the office of theAlcalde. I did not intend to--but I could not help it. _Caramba!_ Hemade further inquiry, but said only that he was told they had longsince gone down to Cartagena, and nothing had been heard from them. "

The gates of memory's great reservoir opened at the touch of thisman's story, and Josè again lived through that moonlit night inCartagena, when the little victim of Wenceslas breathed out her lifeof sorrow and shame in his arms. He heard again the sobs of Marcelenaand the simple-minded Catalina. He saw again the figure of thecompassionate Christ in the smoke that drifted past the window. Andnow the father of that wronged girl sat before him, wrapped in thetatters of a shredded happiness! Should he tell him? Should he saythat he had cared for this man's little grandson since his advent intothis sense of existence that mortals call life? For there could be nodoubt now that the little Maria was his daughter. 

"Don Jorge, " he said, "you have suffered much. My heart bleeds foryou. And yet--"

"_Na_, Padre, there is nothing to do. Were I to find my family I couldonly slay them and the priests who came between us!"

"But, Don Jorge, " cried Josè in horror, "you surely meditate no suchvengeance as that!"

The man smiled grimly. "_Señor Padre_, " he returned coldly, "I amSpanish. The blood of the old cavaliers flows in my veins. I have beenbetrayed, trapped, fooled, and my honored name has been foully soiled. What will remove the stain, think you? Blood--nothing else! _Caramba!_The priest of Maganguey who poured the first drop of poison into mywife's too willing ears--_Bien_, I have said enough!"

"_Hombre!_ You don't mean--"

"I mean, _Señor Padre_, that I drifted down the river, unseen, toMaganguey one night. I entered that priest's house. He did not awakethe next morning. "

"God!" exclaimed Josè, starting up. 

"_Na_, Padre, not God, but Satan! He rules this world. "

Josè sank back in his chair. Don Jorge leaned forward and laid a handupon his knee. "My friend, " he said evenly, "you are young--how old, may I ask?"

"Twenty-seven, " murmured Josè. 

"_Caramba!_ A child! _Bien_, you have much to learn. I took to you onthe boat because I knew you had made a mess of things, and it was notentirely your fault. I have seen others like you. You are no more inthe Church than I am. Now why do you stay here? Do I offend inasking?"

Josè hesitated. "I--I have--work here, señor, " he replied. 

"True, " said Don Jorge, "a chance to do much for these poor people--ifthe odds are not too strong against you. But--are you working for themalone? Or--does Diego's child figure in the case? No offense, I assureyou--I have reason to ask. "

Josè sought to read his eyes. The man looked squarely into his own, and the priest found no deception in their black depths. 

"I--señor, she cannot be Diego's child--and I--I would save her!"

Don Jorge nodded his head. "_Bien_, " he said, "to-morrow I leave forSan Lucas. I will return this way. "

After the evening meal the _guaquero_ spread his _petate_ upon thefloor and disposed himself for the night. He stubbornly refused toaccept the priest's bed. _"Caramba!"_ he muttered, after he had lainquiet for some time, "why does not the Church permit its clergy tomarry, like civilized beings! Do you know, _Señor Padre_, I once met awoman in Bogotá and held some discussion with her on this topic. Shesaid, as between a priest who had children, and a married minister, she would infinitely prefer the priest, because, as she put it, nomatter how dissolute the priest, the sacraments from his hands wouldstill retain their validity--but never from those of a marriedminister! _Caramba!_ what can you do against such bigotry and awfulnarrowness, such dense ignorance! Cielo!"

The following morning, before sunrise, Don Jorge and his boatmen wereon the lake, leaving Josè to meditate on the vivid experiences of thepast few days, their strange mental origin, and the lesson which theybrought. 

CHAPTER 22

"Padre dear, " said Carmen, "you know the question that we put underthe altar of the old church? Well, God answered it, didn't He?"

"I--why, I had forgotten it, child. What was it? You asked Him to tellus why the people thought they had to die, did you not? Well--and whatwas His answer?"

"Why, He told us that they were frightened to death, you know. "

"True, _chiquita_. Fear killed them--nothing else! They paid thepenalty of death for believing that Feliz Gomez had slept on a bedwhere a man had died of the plague. They died because they--"

"Because they didn't know that God was everywhere, Padre dear, "interrupted Carmen. 

"Just so, _chiquita_. And that is why all people die. And yet, " headded sadly, "how are we going to make them know that He iseverywhere?"

"Why, Padre dear, by showing them in our talk and our actions that weknow it--by proving it, you know, just as we prove our problems inalgebra. "

"Yes, poor Feliz, and Amado, and Guillermo died because they sinned, "he mused. "They broke the first Commandment by believing that therewas another power than God. And that sin brought its inevitable wage, death. They 'missed the mark, ' and sank into the oblivion of theirfalse beliefs. God above! that I could keep my own mentality free fromthese same carnal beliefs, and so be a true missionary to sufferinghumanity! But you, Carmen, you are going to be such a missionary. AndI believe, " he muttered through his set teeth, "that I am appointed toshield the girl until God is ready to send her forth! But what, oh, what will she do when she meets that world which lies beyond herlittle Simití?"

Rosendo had returned to Guamocó. "The deposit will not last muchlonger, " he said to Josè, shaking his head dubiously. "And then--"

"Why, then we will find another, Rosendo, " replied the priestoptimistically. 

_"Ojalá!"_ exclaimed the old man, starting for the trail. 

The day after Don Jorge's departure the Alcalde returned. He stoleshamefacedly through the streets and barricaded himself in his house. There he gave vent to his monumental wrath. He cruelly abused hislong-suffering spouse, and ended by striking her across the face. After which he sat down and laboriously penned a long letter to PadreDiego, in which the names of Josè and Carmen figured plentifully. 

For Don Jorge had met the Alcalde in Juncal, and had roundly jeeredhim for his cowardly flight. He cited Josè and Rosendo as examples ofvalor, and pointed out that the Alcalde greatly resembled a captainwho fled at the smell of gunpowder. Don Mario swelled with indignationand shame. His spleen worked particularly against Rosendo and thepriest. Come what might, it was time Diego and his superiors inCartagena knew what was going on in the parish of Simití!

A few days later an unctuous letter came to Josè from Diego, requesting that Carmen be sent to him at once, as he now desired toplace her in a convent and thus supplement the religious educationwhich he was sure Josè had so well begun in her. The priest hadscarcely read the letter when Don Mario appeared at the parish house. 

"_Bien, Padre_, " he began smoothly, but without concealing the malicewhich lurked beneath his oily words, "Padre Diego sends for the littleCarmen, and bids me arrange to have her conveyed at once to Banco. Ithink Juan will take her down, is it not so?"

Josè looked him squarely in the eyes. "No, señor, " he said in a voicethat trembled with agitation, "it is not so!"

_"Hombre!"_ exclaimed Don Mario, swelling with suppressed rage. "Yourefuse to give Diego his own child?"

"No, _señor_, but I refuse to give him a child that is not his. "

"_Caramba!_ but she is--he has the proofs! And I shall send her to himthis day!"

The Alcalde shrilled forth his rage like a ruffled parrot. Josè seizedhim by the shoulders and, turning him swiftly about, pushed him outinto the road. He then entered the rear door of Rosendo's house andbade Doña Maria keep the child close to her. 

A few minutes later Fernando Perez appeared at Josè's door. He wasmunicipal clerk, secretary, and constable of Simití, all in one. Hesaluted the priest gravely, and demanded the body of the child Carmen, to be returned to her proper father. 

Josè groaned inwardly. What could he do against the establishedauthority?

"_Bien, Padre_, " said Fernando, after delivering his message, "thehour is too late to send her down the river to-day. But deliver her tome, and she shall go down at daybreak. "

"Listen, " Josè pleaded desperately, "Fernando, leave her hereto-night--this is sudden, you must acknowledge--she must have time totake leave of Doña Maria--and--"

"_Señor Padre_, the Alcalde's order is that she go with me now. I mustobey. "

Josè felt his control oozing fast. Scarce knowing what he did, hequickly stepped back through the rear door, and going to Rosendo'shouse, seized a large _machete_, with which he returned to face theconstable. 

"Look you, Fernando, " he cried, holding the weapon menacingly aloft, "if you lay a hand on that girl, I will scatter your brains throughyonder _plaza_!"

_"Caramba!"_ muttered the constable, falling back. "_Bien_, " hehastily added, "I will make this report to the Alcalde!" With which hebeat an abrupt retreat. 

Josè sank into a chair. But he hastily arose and went into Rosendo'shouse. "Doña Maria!" he cried excitedly, "leave Carmen with me, and doyou hurry through the town and see if Juan is here, and if LázaroOrtiz has returned from the _hacienda_. Bid them come to me at once, and bring their _machetes_!"

The woman set out on her errand. Josè seized his _machete_ firmly inone hand, and with the other drew Carmen to him. 

"What is it, Padre dear?" the child asked, her eyes big with wonder. "Why do you tremble? I wish you wouldn't always go around thinkingthat two and two are seven!"

"Carmen, child--you do not understand--you are too young, and as yetyou have had no experience with--with the world! You must trust menow!"

"I do _not_ trust you, Padre, " she said sadly. "I can't trust anybodywho always sees things that are not so. "

"Carmen--you are in danger--and you do not comprehend--" cried thedesperate man. 

"I am _not_ in danger--and I _do_ understand--a great deal better thanyou do, Padre. Now let me go--you are afraid! People who are afraiddie of the plague!" The irony of her words sank into his soul. 

Juan looked in at the door. Josè rose hastily. "Did you meet DoñaMaria?" he asked. 

"No, señor, " the lad replied. 

"She is searching for you--have you your _machete_?"

"Yes, Padre, I have just come back from the island, where I wascutting wood. "

"Good, then! Remain here with me. I need you--or may. "

He went to the door and looked eagerly down the street. "Ah!" heexclaimed with relief, "here come Doña Maria and Lázaro! Now, friends, " he began, when they were assembled before him, "grave dangerthreatens--"

"Padre!" It was Doña Maria's voice. "Where is Carmen?"

Josè turned. The child had disappeared. 

"Lázaro!" he cried, "go at once to the Boque trail! Let no one passthat way with Carmen, if your life be the penalty! Juan, hurry to thelake! If either of you see her, call loudly, and I will come! DoñaMaria, start through the town! We must find her! God above, help us!"

 * * * * *

The afternoon dragged its interminable length across the valley. Josèwearily entered his house and threw himself upon a chair. He had notdared call at the Alcalde's house, for fear he might do that officialviolence. But he had seen Fernando in the street, and had avoided him. Then, of a sudden, a thought came to him from out the darkness. Hesprang to his feet and hurried off toward the shales. There, beneaththe stunted _algarroba_ tree, sat the child. 

"Carmen!" He rushed to her and clasped her in his arms. "Why did youdo this--?"

"Padre, " she replied, when she could get her breath, "I had to comeout here and try to know for you the things you ought to know foryourself. "

He said nothing; but, holding her hand tightly, he led her back to thehouse. 

That evening Josè sent for Don Mario, the constable, and Juan andLázaro. Assembling them before him in his living room, he talked withthem long and earnestly. 

"_Compadres_, " he said, "this week we have passed through a sadexperience, and the dark angel has robbed us of three of our belovedfriends. Is it your wish that death again visit us?"

They looked at one another in wonder. The Alcalde scowled darkly atthe priest beneath his heavy brows. Josè continued:

"_Bien_, it is planned to seize the little Carmen by force, and sendher down the river to Padre Diego--"

_"Dios y diablo!"_ Juan had sprung to his feet. "Who says that, Padre?" he demanded savagely. The Alcalde shrank back in his chair. 

"Be calm, Juan!" Josè replied. "Padre Diego sends for her byletter--is it not so, Don Mario?"

The latter grunted. Juan wheeled about and stared menacingly at thebulky official. 

"Now, friends, " Josè pursued, "it has not been shown that Carmenbelongs to Diego--in fact, all things point to the conclusion that sheis not his child. My wish is to be just to all concerned. But shall welet the child go to him, knowing what manner of man he is, until it isproven beyond all doubt that he is her father?"

"_Caramba!_ No!" exclaimed Juan and Lázaro in unison. 

"And I am of the opinion that the majority of our citizens wouldsupport us in the contention. What think you, friends?"

"Every man in Simití, Padre, " replied Lázaro earnestly. 

"Don Mario, " said Josè, turning to the Alcalde, "until it isestablished that Diego has a parent's claim to the girl, Juan andLázaro and I will protect her with our lives. Is it not so, _amigos_?"addressing the two men. 

"_Hombre!_ Let me see a hand laid upon her!" cried Juan rising. 

Lázaro spoke more deliberately. "Padre, " he said. "I owe you much. Iknow you to be q good man--not like Padre Diego. I know not what claimhe may have on the girl, but this I say: I will follow and support youuntil it is shown me that you are in the wrong. "

Josè went over and clasped his hand. Then, to the town officials:

"_Bien, amigos_, we will let the matter rest thus, shall we not? Wenow understand one another. If harm comes to the child, the deathangel will again stalk through this town, and--" he looked hard at DonMario, whilst that official visibly shrank in size--"_Bien_, " heconcluded, "a sharp watch will be kept over the child. We will submitto proofs--but to nothing less. And violence will bring bloodshed anddeath. "

"But--_Caramba_!" cried Don Mario, at last finding his voice. "IfDiego has the Bishop back of him, he will force us to deliver thegirl--or the Bishop will have the government soldiers sent here! I canask for them--and if necessary I will!"

Josè paled slightly. He knew the Alcalde spoke truth. Don Mario, seeing that his words had taken effect, quickly followed up theadvantage. "Now you, Juan and Lázaro, do you think the little whelpworth that?"

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Juan leaped across thefloor and fell upon him. Josè seized the lad and, with Fernando'shelp, tore him loose. Lázaro held his _machete_ aloft, ready tostrike. Josè's voice rang out sharply:

"Hold, men! Stop! Go you to your homes now! Juan, do you stay herewith me!"

The lad faced the Alcalde and shook his fist. "_Bien_, " he sputtered, "send for the soldiers, fat dog that you are! But when I see themcrossing the lake, I will come first to your house and cut open thatbig belly!"

"Arrest him, Fernando!" shrilled the Alcalde, shaking with rage. 

"I will cut off the hand that is laid on Juan!" cried Lázaro, advancing. 

"Men! Men! Don Mario and Fernando, go now! Enough of this! And forGod's sake think twice before you make any further move!"

Don Mario and his constable departed in sullen silence. Josè letLázaro out through the rear door, while he bade Juan pass the night inthe parish house. A consultation was held with Doña Maria, and it wasarranged that Carmen should sleep in the room with Josè, with Juanlying before the door, until Rosendo should return from the mountains. Then Josè sat down and wrote to the Bishop. 

 * * * * *

No reply came from Cartagena until Rosendo returned at the end of themonth. Meanwhile, Josè had never for a moment permitted Carmen toleave his side. The child chafed under the limitation; but Josè andDoña Maria were firm. Juan lived with the priest; and Lázaro lurkedabout the parish house like a shadow. The Alcalde and his constableremained discreetly aloof. 

But with Rosendo's return came letters from both Wenceslas and Diego. The latter had laid aside his unction, and now made a curt andperemptory demand upon Josè for the child. The letter from Wenceslaswas noncommittal, stating only that he was quite uninformed of Diego'sclaim, but that an investigation should be made. Josè wondered if hehad blundered in laying the case before him. 

_"Hombre!"_ ejaculated Rosendo, when he heard Josè's story. "It is asI feared! And now the Bishop has the matter in hand! _Caramba!_ Weshall lose her yet!

"And, Padre, " he added, "the deposit is played out. There is no moregold there. And, now that we shall have none to send to the Bishopeach month, Carmen's fate is settled--unless we go away. And whereshall we go? We could not get out of the country. " He hung his headand sat in gloomy dejection. 

For more than a year Rosendo had panned the isolated alluvial deposit, and on his regular monthly returns to Simití he and the priest hadsent from thirty to ninety _pesos_ gold to Wenceslas. To this Josèsometimes added small amounts collected from the people of Simití, which they had gratuitously given him for Masses and for the supportof the parish. Wenceslas, knowing the feeble strength of the parish, was surprised, but discreet; and though he continually urged Josè togreater efforts, and held out the allurements of "indulgences andspecial dispensations, " he made no inquiries regarding the source ofthe monthly contributions. 

For many days following, Rosendo and the priest went about as in athick, black cloud. "Rosendo, " said Josè at length, "go back to themountains and search again. God was with us before. Have we any reasonto doubt Him now?"

"And leave Carmen here, exposed to the danger that always hangs overher? _Caramba_, no! I would not go back now even if the deposit werenot worked out! No!" Josè knew it would be futile to urge him. 

Carmen came to the priest that same day. "Padre, I heard you and padreRosendo talking this morning. Have you no money, no gold?"

"Why, child--there seems to be a need just at present, " he repliedlightly. "But we might--well, we might send another of your questionsto God. What say you?"

"Of course!" she cried delightedly, turning at once and hurrying awayfor pencil and paper. 

"Now, " she panted, seating herself at the table. "Let us see; we wantHim to give us _pesos_, don't we?"

"Yes--many--a large sum. Make it big, " he said facetiously. 

"Well, you know, Padre dear, " she replied seriously, "we can't ask fortoo much--for we already have everything, haven't we? After all, wecan only ask to see what we really already have. 

"Say 'yes, ' Padre dear, " she pleaded, looking up appealingly at himstaring silently at her. Oh, if she could only impart to him even alittle of her abundant faith! She had enough, and to spare!

"Well, here it is, " she said, holding out the paper. 

He took it and read--"Dear, dear God: Padre Josè needs _pesos_--lotsof them. What shall he do?"

"And now, " she continued, "shall we put it under the altar of the oldchurch?"

He smiled; but immediately assumed an expression of great seriousness. "Why not in the church here, the one we are using? The other is so faraway?" he suggested. "And it is getting dark now. "

"But--no, we will go where we went before, " she concluded firmly. 

Again he yielded. Taking matches and a piece of candle, he set offwith the girl in a circuitous route for the hill, which they gainedunobserved. Within the musty old church he struck a light, and theyclimbed over the _débris_ and to the rear of the crumbling altar. 

"See!" she cried joyously. "Here is my other question that Heanswered! Doesn't He answer them quick though! Why, it took only aday!"

She drew the old paper from beneath the adobe brick. Then shehesitated. "Let us put this question in a new place, " she said. "Look, up there, where the bricks have fallen out, " pointing to the part ofthe altar that had crumbled away. 

Josè rose obediently to execute the commission. His thought was faroff, even in Cartagena, where sat the powers that must be held quietif his cherished plans were not to fail. He reached out and graspedone of the projecting bricks to steady himself. As he did so, thebrick, which was loose, gave way with him, and he fell, almost acrossCarmen, followed by a shower of rubbish, as another portion of the oldaltar fell out. 

_"Hombre!"_ he ejaculated, picking himself up. "What good luck thatthe candle was not extinguished! And now, señorita, are you willingthat we should bury this important question here on the floor; or mustI again try to put it in the altar itself?"

"Up there, " insisted the child, laughing and still pointing above. 

He rose and looked about, searching for a convenient place to depositthe paper. Then something attracted his attention, something buried inthe altar, but now exposed by the falling out of the fresh portion. Itwas metal, and it glittered in the feeble candle light. He reached inand hastily scraped away more of the hard mud. Then, trembling withsuppressed excitement, he pulled out another brick. Clearly, it was abox that had been buried in there--who knows when? He gave the candleto Carmen and bade her stand up close. Then with both hands hecarefully removed the adjacent bricks until the entire box was inview. 

_"Hombre!"_ he muttered. "What do you suppose this is? A box--"

"Oh!" exclaimed the girl in delight. "A box to put our question in, Padre!"

"More likely the answer itself, child!" muttered the excited priest, straining and tugging away at it. "Carmen! Stand aside!" he suddenlycommanded. "Now--" He gave a final pull. A crash of falling bricksfollowed; the candle was extinguished; and both he and the child wereprecipitated to the floor. 

"Carmen!" called the priest, choking with dust, "are you hurt?"

"No, Padre dear, " came the laughing answer through the darkness. "ButI'm pretty full of dust. And the candle is buried. "

Josè groped about for the box. It lay near, a small, wooden coffer, bound about with two narrow bands of steel. He dragged it out and boreit down the aisle to the door, followed by Carmen. 

"Padre!" she exclaimed eagerly. "What is it?"

He dusted it off and examined it carefully in the fast fading light. It was some twelve inches square by three deep, well made of mahogany, and secured by a small, iron padlock. On the top there was a crest ofarms and the letters, "I de R, " burned into the wood. 

Night had closed in, and the priest and girl made their way hurriedlyback home by way of the lake, to avoid being seen. Under his cassockJosè carried the box, so heavy that it chafed the skin from his hip asthey stumbled along. 

"Carmen, say nothing--but tell your padre Rosendo to come to me atonce!"

With the doors secured, and Carmen and Doña Maria standing guardoutside to apprise them of danger, Josè and Rosendo covertly examinedthe discovery. 

"I de R!" pondered Rosendo, studying the box. Then--"_Caramba!_Padre--_Caramba!_ It is _Ignacio de Rincón!_ _Hombre!_ And thecrest--it is his! I have seen it before--years and years ago!_Caramba!_ _Caramba!_" The old man danced about like a child. 

"Ignacio de Rincón! Your grandfather!" he kept exclaiming, his eyesbig as saucers. Then, hastening out to get his iron bar, he returnedand with a blow broke the rusty padlock. Tearing open the hingedcover, he fell back with a loud cry. 

Before their strained gaze, packed carefully in sawdust, lay severalbars of yellow metal. Rosendo took them out with trembling hands andlaid them upon the floor. "Gold, Padre, gold!" he muttered hoarsely. "Gold, buried by your grandfather! _Caramba!--_

"Hold these, Padre!" hurrying out and returning with a pair ofhomemade wooden balances. Again and again he carefully weighed thebars. Then he began to calculate. It seemed to Josè that the old manwasted hours arriving at a satisfactory result. 

"Padre, " he finally announced in tones which he strove vainly tocontrol, "there cannot be less than six thousand _pesos oro_ here!"

Josè drew a long breath. "Six thousand _pesos_--twenty-four thousandfrancs! It is a fortune! Rosendo, we are rich!"

The trembling old man replaced the bars and carried them to Josè'sbed. The priest opened the door and called to Carmen. 

"What was in the old box, Padre?" she asked happily, bounding into theroom. 

He stooped and picked her up, almost crushing her in his arms. "Theanswer to your question, _chiquita_. 'Before they call I will answer:and while they are yet speaking, I will hear. '"

CHAPTER 23

When Josè awoke the next morning he quickly put his hand under hispillow. Yes, the little coffer was there! It had not been a dream. Hedrew it forth and raised the cover. The yellow bars glittered in themorning rays sifting through the overhanging thatch at the window. Hepassed his hand gently across them. What a fortunate discovery! Andhow strangely brought about. They were rich! Now he could take Carmenand flee! His heart leaped within him as he hastily threw on his scantattire and went out into the balsamic air of the tropical morning. Rosendo had gone to the village of Boque, starting before sun-up, soDoña Maria announced. Some sudden impulse had seized him, and he hadset out forthwith, not stopping to discuss the motive with hisfaithful consort. Josè concluded his _desayuno_, and then summonedCarmen to the parish house for the day's lessons. She came with a songon her lips. 

"Don't stop, _chiquita_! Sing it again--it is beautiful; and my souldrinks it in like heavenly dew!" he cried, as the child danced up tohim and threw her plump arms about his neck. 

She turned about and sat down on the dusty threshold and repeated thelittle song. The glittering sunlight streamed through her rich curlslike stringers of wire gold. Cucumbra came fawning to her and nestledat her little bare feet, caressing them at frequent intervals with hisrough tongue. Cantar-las-horas approached with dignified tread, and, stopping before his adored little mistress, cocked his head to oneside and listened attentively, his beady eyes blinking in the dazzlinglight. 

Josè marveled anew as he listened. Where had that voice come from? Hadeither of her parents been so gifted? he wondered. And yet, it wasonly the voicing of a soul of stainless purity--a conscience clear asthe light that gilded her curls--a trust, a faith, a knowledge ofimmanent good, that manifested daily, hourly, in a tide of happinesswhose far verge melted into the shore of eternity. As he sat withclosed eyes the adobe hut, with its dirt floor and shabby furnishings, expanded into a castle, hung with richest tapestries, rarest pictures, and glittering with plate of gold. The familiar odors of garlic andsaffron, which penetrated from the primitive kitchen of Doña Maria, were transmuted into delicate perfumes. The sun drew nearer, andsuffused him with its glittering flood. The girl became a white-robedvision, and her song a benediction, voicing "Glory to God in thehighest, and on earth peace among men of good will. "

The song ended, and left the thought with him: "To men of good will?"Yes, to men of God's will--the will that is good--to men of soundmind--that mind which was in Christ Jesus--the mind that knows noevil! To such is eternal peace. 

"_Chiquita_, " the priest said gently, when the girl returned to him. "Your question was quickly answered yesterday, was it not?"

She laughed up into his face. "It was answered, Padre, before we askedit. God has the answers to all questions that could ever be asked. Wewould always know the answers if we thought the way He does. "

"But--tell me, _chiquita_, do you think He put that little box upthere in the altar purposely for us?"

"No, Padre--I guess it was hidden there by some man, long ago, who wasafraid he would lose it. And since he was afraid he would lose it, why--he did, for now we have it. "

"Yes, the thing that he greatly feared came upon him. But what is youridea regarding the way we happened to find it? Did God lead us toit?"

"God leads to everything good, Padre dear, " was the simple response. 

"Of course. But, in this particular case--would we have been led tothe little box if you had not asked your question of God?"

"Why not, Padre? People are always led right when they think right. "

"And so thinking right was the cause of this discovery, was it?" hepursued, relentlessly probing her thought to its depths. 

"Why--yes, Padre--of course. We had to have money--you said so, youknow. And you told me to ask for lots of _pesos_. Well, we both knewthat God had already given us more _pesos_ than we could ever knowwhat to do with--He always does. He just can't help giving Himself toeverybody. And He gave Himself to us--why, we have always had Him! Weare _in_ Him, you know. And when anybody just knows that--why, he seesnothing but good everywhere, and he always has all that he needs. "

"All that he wants, you mean, _chiquita_?"

"No, Padre, not all that he wants. Just all that he needs. You mightwant all the gold in the world--but you wouldn't need it. "

"No, that would be only a selfish, human want. It would be covetousness. But--you still think we were led right to the little box, do you?"

"I know it, Padre dear, " she replied emphatically. "When we thinkgood, we see good. It always comes out that way. It is just as sure asgetting the right answers to my problems in algebra when I think rightabout them. "

"And thinking right about them means using the right rule, does itnot?"

"Yes--of course. If I didn't use the right rule--why, what sort ofanswers would I get? All jumbled up!"

"Surely--perfect chaos. But still, " vigorously pursuing the subject, "you don't think we happened upon the little box just by good luck?"

"Padre, " she shook her curls insistently, "things never happen, _never_! We see only what we think--always!"

"Yes, there surely does seem to be a definite law of cause and effect. But you did not think gold yesterday, _chiquita_. "

"Oh, Padre dear, what a bother you are! No, I didn't think goldyesterday. I never think gold. But I always think _good_. And that isgold and everything else that we need. Can't you see? And it wasn'tjust because I thought good yesterday, but because I think good everyday, that I saw the gold. It was because we needed it, and God hadalready given us all that we needed. And I knew that it just _had_ tocome. And so did you. Then, because we really needed it, and knew thatit was right and that it must come--well, it did. Can't you see?" Herlittle face was very serious as she looked up appealingly into his. 

"Yes, _chiquita_, yes, I see. I just wanted to know how you wouldexplain it. It becomes clearer to me every day that there are no suchthings as miracles--never were! Christ Jesus _never_ performedmiracles, if by that we mean that he set aside God's laws for thebenefit of mankind. But he acted in perfect accord with thoselaws--and no wonder the results seemed miraculous to dull-witted humanminds, who had always seen only their coarse, material thoughtexternalized in material laws and objects, in chance, mixed good andevil, and a God of human characteristics!"

"Yes--I--guess so, Padre dear--only, I don't understand your bigwords. "

"Ah, _chiquita_, you understand far, far better than I do! Why, I amlearning it all from you! But come, now for the lessons. "

And Josè had learned by this time, too, that between merelyrecognizing righteousness as right-thinking, and actually practicingit--putting it to the test so as to "prove" God--there is a vastdifference. Things cannot be "thought" into existence, nor evils"thought" away--the stumbling block of the mere tyro in the study ofmental cause and effect. A vast development in spirituality mustprecede those "signs following" before mankind shall again do theworks of the Master. Josè knew this; and he bowed in humblesubmission, praying for daily light. 

 * * * * *

At dusk Rosendo returned. "_Bien_, Padre, I have it now, I think!" hecried excitedly, pacing back and forth in the little room. 

"What, Rosendo?" asked the wondering priest. 

"The secret of the little box! Come, while we eat I will tell you!"

The little group gathered about the table, while Rosendo unfolded histheory. 

"I went to Boque this morning to talk with Doña Lucia. She is veryaged, the oldest inhabitant in these parts. _Bien_, I knew that shehad known Don Ignacio, although she was not his slave. Her storybrought back to me also the things my father had often told me aboutDon Ignacio's last trip to Simití. Putting all these things together, I think I now know how the little box came to be hidden in the altarof the old church. "

The old man's eyes sparkled with happiness, while his auditors drewcloser about him to drink in his dramatic recital. For Rosendo, like atrue Latin, reveled in a wonder-tale. And his recitals were alwaysaccompanied by profuse gesticulation and wonderful facial expressionsand much rolling of the eyes. 

"_Bien_, " he continued, "it was this way. Don Ignacio's possessions inGuamocó were enormous, and in the then prosperous city of Simití hehad stores and warehouses and much property. When the War ofIndependence neared its end, and he saw that the Royalist cause waslost, he made a last and flying trip to Simití, going up the Magdalenariver from Cartagena in his own _champán_, propelled by some of hisstill faithful slaves. 

"_Bien_, he found that one of his foremen had just returned from themountains with the final clean-up from La Libertad _arrastras_. Thesehad been abandoned, for most of the slaves had deserted, or gone tofight the Spaniards. But the foreman, who was not a slave, but afaithful employe, had cleaned up the _arrastras_ and hidden theamalgam until he could find a favorable opportunity to come down toSimití with it. 

"Now, when Don Ignacio arrived here, he found the town practicallydeserted. So he and the foreman retorted the amalgam and melted thegold into bars. But, just as they had completed their task, amessenger came flying to town and reported that a body of Royalistsoldiers were at Badillo, and that they had learned that Simití wasthe _bodega_ of the rich Guamocó district, and were preparing to comeover and sack the town. They were fleeing down the river to the coast, to get away to Spain as soon as possible, but had put off at Badilloto come over here. Fortunately, they had become very intoxicated, andtheir expedition was for that reason delayed. 

"_Bueno_, at the news the foreman dropped everything and fled for hislife. A few people gathered with the priest in the Rincón church, theone you are using now, Padre. The priest of the other old church onthe hill fled. _Caramba_, but he was a coward--and he got well paidfor it, too! But of that later. 

"Don Ignacio's _champán_ was at Badillo, and he had come across toSimití by canoe. _Bien_, he dared not take this gold back with him;and so he thought of hiding it in one of the churches, for that isalways a sacred place. There were people in his own church, and so hehurried to the one on the hill. Evidently, as he looked about in thedeserted building for a place to hide the bars, he saw that some ofthe bricks could easily be removed from the rear of the altar. Acouple of hours sufficed to do the work of secreting the box. Then hefled across the shales to the town of Boque, where he got a canoe totake him down to the Magdalena; and there he waited until he saw thesoldiers come across and enter the _caño_. Then he fled to Badillo. Don Nicolás, son of Doña Lucia, was his boatman, and he says that heremained with your grandfather at that place over night, and thatthere they received the report that the Royalists had been terriblywhipped in the battle--the battle of--_Caramba_! I forget--"

"Of Ayacucho, " suggested Josè. 

"Just so, " resumed Rosendo. "_Bien_, there was nothing for the poorman to do but hasten down the river to Cartagena as fast as possible, for he knew not what might have befallen his family. He did not darego back to Simití then for the box. And so the gold was left in thealtar. "

_"Hombre!"_ exclaimed Josè. "Now I understand what he meant by thatnote in his old diary, which we had in my father's house, in Spain! Ofcourse! Arriving in Cartagena he went at once to the Department ofMines and tore out all the pages of the register that containeddescriptions of his mineral properties. He intended some day to returnto Guamocó and again locate them. And meantime, he protected himselfby destroying all the registered locations. It was easy for him to dothis, influential as he was in Cartagena. And doubtless at that stormytime the office of the Department of Mines was deserted. This note, Rosendo, I have read in his old diary, many times, but never knew towhat it referred. "

_"Hombre!"_ ejaculated Rosendo. "_Bueno_, the soldiers sacked Simitíand slaughtered all the people they could find. Then they set fire tothe town, and left. My parents had fled to Guamocó. 

"But now for the old church and the picture of the Virgin that waslost during the terrible storm when the priest fell dead. We will haveto guess that later, when peace had been restored, the priest of theold church in prying around the altar discovered the loose bricks andthe box behind them. _Bueno_, the night of the awful storm he had gonesecretly to the church to remove the box. I remember that my fathersaid the priest had arranged for my father to take him down to BodegaCentral the very next day. You see, he was going to flee with thegold, the rogue! _Bien_, while he was in the church taking out theloose bricks, that storm broke--and, from what I remember, it wasterrible! The heavens were ablaze with lightning; the thunder roaredlike cannon; and the lake rose right out of its bed! _Caramba!_ Thedoor of the church crashed open, and the wind whistled in and blew outthe candles on the altar. The wind also tore loose a beautiful pictureof the Virgin that was hanging near the altar. The picture was blownout of its frame and swept off to the hills, or into the lake. It wasnever seen again, although the frame was found just outside the door. Perhaps it was the extinguishing of the candles and the falling of thepicture that frightened the old priest so terribly. At any rate he ranfrom the church to his house, and when he reached his door he felldead of apoplexy. 

"_Bueno_, after that you could never get any of the Simití people toenter the church again. They closed the doors and left it, just as itwas, for they thought the curse of God had fallen upon it because ithad been erected by the enemies of the Rincón family, whose patronsaint was the blessed Virgin herself. Well, the old altar began tocrumble, and parts of it fell away from time to time. And when thepeople heard the bricks falling they said it was the bad angel thatthe Virgin had locked in there--the angel of Satan that hadextinguished the candles on the altar that night of the storm. _Caramba!_ And I believed it, too! I am a fool, Padre, a fool!"

"We are all fools, Rosendo, when we yield ourselves to superstitionand false belief, " said Josè solemnly. "But you have worked out a veryingenious story, and I doubt not you have come very near to accountingin the right way for the presence of the little box in the altar. Butnow, _amigo_, come with me to my house. I would discuss a plan withyou. 

"It is this, Rosendo, " he said, when they were alone. "We now havegold, and the way has been providentially opened. Carmen is in greatdanger here. What say you, shall we take her and leave Simití?"

Rosendo's face became grave. He did not reply for some moments. 

"Padre, " he said at length, "you are right. It would be best for herif we could get her away. But--you would have to leave the country. Isee now that neither she nor you would be safe anywhere in Colombia ifyou left Simití. "

"True, Rosendo, " replied Josè. "And I am sure that no countryoffers the asylum that America does--the America of the north. Ihave never been there, _amigo_; but of all countries I learn that itis the most tolerant in matters religious. And it offers thegreatest opportunities to one, like Carmen, just entering upon life. We will go there. And, Rosendo, prepare yourself and Doña Maria atonce, for we had best start without delay. "

But Rosendo shook his head. "No, Padre, " he said slowly. "No. I couldnot go to the North with you; nor could Maria. "

"But, Rosendo!" exclaimed the priest impatiently, "why?"

"_Bien_, Padre, we are old. And we know not the language of those upthere. Nor the customs. We could not adapt ourselves to their ways oflife--no, not at our age. Nor could we endure the change of climate. You tell me they have cold, ice, snow, up there. What could we do? Wewould die. No, we must remain here. But--" his voice choked. 

"_Bien_, Padre, do you go, and take the girl. Bring her up to be apower for good in that great land. We--Maria and I--will remain inSimití. It is not permitted that we should ever leave. This has alwaysbeen our home, and here we will die. "

Josè exclaimed again in impatience. But the old man was immovable. 

"No, Padre, we could not make so great a change. Anywhere in Colombiawould be but little different from Simití. But up north--in that greatcountry where they do those wonderful things you have told meabout--no, Padre, Maria and I could not make so great a change. 

"But, Padre, " he continued, "what will you do--leave the Church? Orwill you still be a priest up there?"

The question startled Josè rudely. In the great joy which thediscovery of the gold had stimulated, and in the thought of thepossibilities opened by it, he had given no heed to his statusrespecting the Church. Yet, if he remained in the Church, he could notmake this transfer without the approval of the Vatican. And that, hewell knew, could not be obtained. No, if he went, he must leave behindall ecclesiastical ties. And with them, doubtless, the ties whichstill bound him to his distant mother and the family whose honoredname he bore. It was not so easy a matter to take the girl and leaveSimití, now that he gave the project further consideration. 

And yet he could not abandon the idea, however great his present senseof disappointment. He would cling to it as an ideal, some day to berealized, and to be worked up to as rapidly as might be, withoutexciting suspicion, and without abruptly severing the ties which, onserious reflection, he found he was not morally strong enough as yetto break. 

"_Bien_, Rosendo, " he concluded in chastened tones. "We will think itover, and try to devise ways to accomplish the greatest good for thechild. I shall remain here for the present. "

Rosendo's face beamed with joy. "The way will be shown us some time, Padre!" he exclaimed. "And while we wait, we will keep our eyes open, no?"

Yes, Josè would keep his eyes open and his heart receptive. Afterall, as he meditated the situation in the quiet of his little cottagethat evening, he was not sorry that circumstances kept him longer inSimití. For he had long been meditating a plan, and the distractionincident upon a complete change of environment certainly would delay, if not entirely defeat, its consummation. He had planned totranslate his Testament anew, in the light of various works onBible criticism which the explorer had mentioned, and which thepossession of the newly discovered gold now made attainable. He hadwith him his Greek lexicon. He would now, in the freedom frominterruption which Simití could and probably would afford for theensuing few months, give himself up to his consecrated desire toextract from the sacred writings the spiritual meaning crystallizedwithin them. The vivid experiences which had fallen to him inSimití had resulted in the evolution of ideas--radically at variancewith the world's materialistic thought, it is true--which he waslearning to look upon as demonstrable truths. The Bible had slowlytaken on a new meaning to him, a meaning far different from thatset forth in the clumsy, awkward phrases and expressions into whichthe translators so frequently poured the wine of the spirit, andwhich, literally interpreted, have resulted in such violentcontroversies, such puerile ideas of God and His thought toward man, and such religious hatred and bigotry, bloodshed, suffering, andmaterial stagnation throughout the so-called Christian era. He wouldapproach the Gospels, not as books of almost undecipherablemystery, not as the biography of the blessed Virgin, but ascontaining the highest human interpretation of truth and its relationto mankind. 

"I seek knowledge, " he repeated aloud, as he paced back and forththrough his little living room at night; "but it is not a knowledgeof Goethe, of Kant, or Shakespeare; it is not a knowledge of thepoets, the scientists, the philosophers, all whom the world holdsgreatest in the realm of thought; it is a knowledge of Thee, myGod, to know whom is life eternal! Men think they can know Homer, Plato, Confucius--and so they can. But they think they can _not_know Thee! And yet Thou art nearer to us than the air we breathe, forThou art Life! What is there out in the world among the multifoldinterests of mankind that can equal in importance a demonstrableknowledge of Thee? Not the unproven theories and opinions, theso-called 'authority' of the ancient Fathers, good men though theymay have been; not modern pseudo-science, half-truths and relativefacts, saturated with materialism and founded on speculation andhypothesis; but real knowledge, a knowledge of Thee that is asdemonstrable as the simplest rule in mathematics! Alas! that menshould be so mesmerized by their own beliefs as to say Thou canstnot be known. Alas! for the burden which such thinkers as Spencerhave laid upon the shoulders of stumbling mankind. For God _can_ beknown, and proven--else is Jesus responsible for the most cruel lieever perpetrated upon the ignorant, suffering world!"

And so, putting aside a portion of his gold--his by right ofinheritance as well as discovery--for the future purchase of suchbooks and aids as he might require, Josè set his house in order andthen plunged into such a search of the Scriptures as rendered himoblivious to all but the immediate interests of Carmen and herfoster-parents. The great world again narrowed into the rock-boundconfines of little Simití. Each rushing morn that shot its fiery glowthrough the lofty treetops sank quickly into the hush of noon, whilethe dust lay thick, white, and hot on the slumbering streets of theancient town; each setting sun burned with dreamy radiance through theafternoon haze that drew its filmy veil across the seething valley;each night died into a stillness, lonely and awful. Nature changed hergarb with monotonous regularity; the drowsing children of this tropicregion passed their days in dull torpidity; Josè saw nothing of itall. At times a villager would bring a tale of grievance to pour intohis ears--perhaps a jaguar had pounced upon his dog on his little_finca_ across the lake, or a huge snake had lured a suckling pig intoits cavernous maw. At times a credulous woman would stop before hisopen door to dilate upon the thick worms that hung upon the leaves ofthe _algarrobas_ and dropped their wool-like fibers upon the nativesas they passed below, causing intermittent fevers. Perhaps an anxiousmother would seek him for advice regarding her little son, who hadeaten too much dirt, and was suffering from the common "_jipitera_, "that made his poor little abdomen protrude so uncomfortably. Again, Rosendo might steal in for a few moments' mysterious, whispered talkabout buried treasure, or the fables of El Dorado and Parimé. Josè hadtime for them all, though as he listened his thought hovered everabout the green verge of Galilee. 

By his side worked Carmen, delving assiduously into the mysteriesof mathematics and the modern languages. When the day's work closedfor them both, he often asked her to sing to him. And then, leaningback with closed eyes, he would yield himself to the soft dreamswhich her sweet voice called up from his soul's unfathomed depths. Often they walked together by the lake on a clear night; and onthese little excursions, during which they were never beyondRosendo's watchful eye, Josè reveled in the girl's airy gaiety andthe spontaneous flow of her sparkling thought. He called her hisdomestic sunbeam; but in his serious moments--and they weremany--he studied her with a wistful earnestness, while he sought toimbibe her great trust, her fearlessness, her unswerving loyalty tothe Christ-principle of immanent Good. He would never permitrestraint to be imposed upon her, even by Rosendo or his good wife. She knew not what it was to be checked in the freest manifestationof her natural character. But there was little occasion forrestraint, for Carmen dwelt ever in the consciousness of a spiritualuniverse, and to it paid faithful tribute. She saw and knew onlyfrom a spiritual basis; and she reaped the rewards incident thereto. His life and hers were such as fools might label madness, acolorless, vegetative existence, devoid of even the elementalthings that make mundane existence worth the while. But theappraisal of fools is their own folly. Josè knew that the torriddays which drew their monotonous length over the little town werewitnessing a development in both himself and the child that some daywould bear richest fruit. So far from being educated to distrustspiritual power, as are the children of this world, Carmen wasgrowing up to know no other. Instead of the preponderance of herbelief and confidence being directed to the material, she wasdeveloping the consciousness that the so-called evidence of thephysical senses is but mortal thought, the suppositional opposite ofthe thought of the infinite God who says to mankind: "For I know thethoughts that I think toward you, thoughts of peace and not ofevil, to give you an expected end. " Josè knew that his method ofeducation was revolutionary. But he also knew that it was notwholly his; that the child had really taken this course herself, as if led thereto by a power beyond them both. 

And so he watched her, and sought to learn from her as from Christ'sown loving and obedient disciple. It was because of his obedience toGod that Jesus was able to "prove" Him in the mighty works which wecall miracles. He said, "If any man will do His will, he shall know ofthe doctrine, whether it be of God. " Plain enough, indeed! And Carmendid do His will; she kept the very first Commandment; she walked byfaith, and not by the sight of the human senses. She had been calledan "_hada_, " a witch, by the dull-witted folk of Simití; and some dayit would be told that she had a devil. But the Master had borne thesame ignominy. And so has every pioneer in Truth, who has dared to laythe axe at the roots of undemonstrable orthodox belief and entrenchedhuman error. 

Josè often trembled for the child when he thought of the probablereception that awaited her in the world without, in case she everleft Simití. Would her supreme confidence in good ever be weakened byan opposite belief in evil? Would her glorious faith ever beneutralized or counterbalanced by faith in a power opposed to God? Hewondered. And sometimes in the fits of abstraction resulting fromthese thoughts, the girl would steal up to him and softly whisper, "Why, Padre, are you trying to make two and two equal seven?" Then hewould laugh with her, and remember how from her algebraic work she hadlooked up one day and exclaimed, "Padre--why, all evil can be reducedto a common denominator, too--_and it is zero_!"

As recreation from the task of retranslating his Greek Testament, Josèoften read to Carmen portions from the various books of the Bible, ortold her the old sacred stories that children so love to hear. ButCarmen's incisive thought cut deep into them, and Josè generally foundhimself hanging upon the naïve interpretations of this young girl. When, after reading aloud the two opposing accounts of the Creation, as given in the first and second chapters of Genesis, she asked, "But, Padre, why did God change His mind after He made people and gave themdominion over everything?" Josè was obliged to say that God had notmade a mistake, and then gone back afterward to rectify it; that theaccount of the Creation, as given in Genesis, was not His, but was arecord of the dawning upon the human thought of the idea of thespiritual Creation; that the "mist" which went up from the earth wassuppositional error; and that the record of the Creation which followsafter this was only the human mind's interpretation of the real, spiritual Creation, that Creation which is the ever unfolding ofinfinite Mind's numberless, perfect ideas. The book of Genesis hasbeen a fetish to human minds; and not until the limitations imposed byits literal interpretation were in a measure removed did the humanmentality begin to rise and expand. And when, reading from Isaiah, thegrandest of the ancient prophets, the ringing words, "Cease ye fromman, whose breath is in his nostrils: for wherein is he to beaccounted of?" the child asked him if that did not refer to the verykind of people with whom they had daily intercourse, he had beenobliged to say that it did, and that that sort of man was far, veryfar, from being the man of God's own creating. 

"The mist, child, which is mentioned in the second chapter of Genesis, is said to have gone up from the ground. That is, it went up frommatter. And so it is typical of materialism, from which all evilcomes. The material is the direct opposite of the spiritual. Every bitof evil that men think they can see, or know, or do, comes astestimony of the five material senses. These might well be called the'ground' senses. In the book of Genesis, you will notice that theaccount of the real comes first; then follows the account of itsopposite, the unreal man of dust. "

"Surely, Padre!" she exclaimed. "The plus sign is followed by a minussign, isn't it? And the man made of dust is the real man with a minussign before him. "

"The man of dust is the human mind's interpretation of the spiritualman, dear child, " returned Josè. "All human beings are interpretationsby the mortal, or human, mind of infinite Mind, God, and His spiritualCreation. The interpretation is made in the human mind, and remainsthere. The human mind does not see these interpretations outside ofitself--it does not see real men, and houses, and trees, outside ofitself--but it sees its mental interpretations of God, which it callsmen, and houses, and trees, and so on. These things are what we mightcall _mental concepts_. They are the man and the creation spoken of inthe second chapter of Genesis after the mist went up from matter, fromthe ground, from materialism, resulting in the testimony of thephysical senses. "

"But, Padre, they are not real--these mental concepts?"

"No. They are illusions. They are formed in mentalities that arethemselves wrong interpretations of the infinite Mentality, calledGod. They are formed without any rule or principle. They are made upof false thoughts, false opinions, beliefs of power opposed to God, beliefs in evil, in sickness, disaster, loss, and death. They are theresults of educated and inherited and attached beliefs. They arelargely made up of fear-beliefs. The human mentalities see thesevarious beliefs combined in what it calls men and women, houses, animals, trees, and so on, all through the material so-calledcreation. It is this wrong interpretation that has caused all thesuffering and sorrow in the world. And it is this false stuff that thegood man Jesus finally said he had overcome. "

"How did he do it, Padre?"

"By knowing its nothingness, and by knowing the Allness of his Father, infinite Mind. He called this false stuff a lie about God. And heovercame that lie by knowing the truth--just as you overcome thethought that you cannot solve your algebraic problems by knowing thetruth that will and does solve them. "

"But, Padre, you said once that Jesus was the best man that everlived. Was he just a man?"

"Yes, _chiquita_. That is, the human minds all about him saw theirmental concepts of him as a man. But he was a human concept that mostclearly represented God's idea of Himself. Mortal, human minds arelike window-panes, _chiquita_. When a window-pane is very dirty, verymuch covered with matter, only a little light can get through it. Somehuman minds are cleaner, less material, than others, and they let morelight through. Jesus was the cleanest mind that was ever with us. Hekept letting more and more light--Truth--through himself, until atlast all the matter, even the matter composing the material conceptthat people called his earthly body, dissolved in the strong light, and the people saw him no more. That is called the Ascension. "

"And--Padre, don't we have to do that way, too?" she asked earnestly. 

"Just so, _chiquita_. We must, every one of us, do exactly as Jesusdid. We must wash ourselves clean--wash off the dirty beliefs of powerapart from God; we must wash off the beliefs of evil as a power, created in opposition to Him, or permitted by Him to exist and to useHis children; we must wash off beliefs of matter as real and createdby Him. We must know that matter and all evil, all that decays andpasses away, all discord and disease, everything that comes astestimony of the five physical senses, is but a part of the lie aboutHim, the stuff that has the minus sign before it, making it less thannothing. We must know that it is the suppositional opposite of thereal--it is an illusion, seeming to exist, yet evaporating when we tryto define it or put a finger on it, for it has no rule or principle bywhich it was created and by which it continues to exist. Its existenceis only in human thought. "

No, Josè assured himself, the Gospels are not "loose, exaggerated, inaccurate, credulous narratives. " They are the story of the clearesttransparency to truth that was ever known to mortals as a human being. They preserve the life-giving words of him whose mission it was toshow mankind the way out of error by giving them truth. They containthe rule given by the great Mathematician, who taught mankind how tosolve their life-problems. They tell the world plainly that thereseems to exist a lie about God; that every real idea of the infiniteMind seems to have its suppositional opposite in a material illusion. They tell us plainly that resisting these illusions with truth rendersthem nugatory. They tell us clearly that the man Jesus was so filledwith truth that he proved the nothingness of the lie about God bydoing those deeds that seemed marvelous in the eyes of men, and yetwhich he said we could and should do ourselves. And we must do them, if we would throw off the mesmerism of the lie. The human concept ofman and the universe must dissolve in the light of the truth thatcomes through us as transparencies. And it were well if we set aboutwashing away the dirt of materialism, that the light may shine throughmore abundantly. 

Jesus did not say that his great deeds were accomplished contrary tolaw, but that they fulfilled the law of God. The law is spiritual, never material. Material law is but human limitation. Ignorance ofspiritual law permits the belief in its opposite, material law, orlaws of matter. False, human beliefs, opinions, and theories, materialspeculations and superstitions, parade before the human mind as laws. Jesus swept them all aside by knowing that their supposed power layonly in human acceptance. The human mind is mesmerized by its ownfalse thought. Even Paul at times felt its mesmerism and exclaimed:"I find then a law, that, when I would do good, evil is present withme. " The very idea of good stirs up its opposite in the humanconsciousness. But Paul rose above it and saw its nothingness. Thenhe cried: "The law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath mademe free from the law of sin and death. " He recognized the spirituallaw that Jesus employed; and with it he overcame the mesmerism ofthe lie. 

"To be a Christian, then, " said Josè, "means not merely taking thename of Christ, and, while morally opposing sin, succumbing to everyform of mesmerism that the lie about God exerts. No, it is infinitelymore! It means recognizing the nature of God and His Creation, including Man, to be wholly spiritual--and the nature of the materialcreation and mankind as their opposite, as mental concepts, existingas false interpretations of the spiritual Universe and Man, and ashaving their place only in the false human consciousness, which itselfis a mental activity concerned only with false thought, thesuppositional opposite of God's thought. It means taking this Truth, this spiritual law, as we would take a mathematical rule or principle, and with it overcoming sin, sickness, discord of every name andnature, even to death itself. What, oh, what have so-called Christiansbeen doing these nearly two thousand years, that they have not erethis worked out their salvation as Jesus directed them to do? Alas!they have been mesmerized--simply mesmerized by the lie. Themillennium should have come long, long ago. It would come to-day ifthe world would obey Jesus. But it will not come until it does obeyhim. "

Day after day, week after week, month after month, Josè delved andtoiled, studied and pondered. The books which he ordered through theEmpresa Alemania, and for which for some two months he waited intrembling anticipation and fear lest they be lost in transit, finallyarrived. When Juan brought them up from Bodega Central, Josè couldhave wept for joy. Except for the very few letters he had received atrare intervals, these were the only messages that had penetrated theisolation of Simití from the outside world in the two long years ofhis exile. His starving mind ravenously devoured them. They affordedhis first introduction to that fearlessly critical thought regardingthings religious which has swept across the world like a tidal wave, and washed away so many of the bulwarks of superstition and ignorancebred of fear of the unknown and supposedly unknowable. 

And yet they were not really his first introduction to thatthought, for, as he pored over these books, his heart expandedwith gratitude to the brusque explorer whom he had met in Cartagena, that genial, odd medley of blunt honesty, unquibbling candor, andhatred of dissimulation, whose ridicule of the religious fetishismof the human mentality tore up the last root of educated orthodoxbelief that remained struggling for life in the altered soil of hismind. 

But, though they tore down with ruthless hand, _these books did notreconstruct_. Josè turned from them with something of disappointment. He could understand why the trembling heart, searching wearily fortruth, turned always from such as they with sinking hope. They wereviolently iconoclastic--they up-rooted--they overthrew--they sweptaside with unsparing hand--but they robbed the starving mortal of hisonce cherished beliefs--they snatched the stale and feebly nourishingbread from his mouth, and gave nothing in return. They emptied hisheart, and left it starving. What did it boot to tell a man that theorthodox dream of eternal bliss beyond the gates of death was but ahoax, if no substitute be offered? Why point out the fallacies, thepuerile conceptions, the worse than childish thought expressed in thereligious creeds of men, if they were not to be replaced bylife-sustaining truth? If the demolition of cherished beliefs be notfollowed by reconstruction upon a sure foundation of demonstrabletruth, then is the resulting state of mind worse than before, for thetrusting, though deceived, soul has no recourse but to fall into theagnosticism of despair, or the black atheism of positive negation. 

"Happily for me, " he sighed, as he closed his books at length, "thatCarmen entered my empty life in time with the truth that she hourlydemonstrates!"

CHAPTER 24

Days melted into weeks, and these in turn into months. Simití, draband shabby, a crumbling and abandoned relique of ancient Spanish prideand arrogance, drowsed undisturbed in the ardent embrace of thetropical sun. Don Jorge returned, unsuccessful, from his long quest inthe San Lucas mountains, and departed again down the Magdalena river. 

"It is a marvelous country up there, " he told Josè. "I do not wonderthat it has given rise to legends. I felt myself in a land ofenchantment while I was roaming those quiet mountains. When, afterdays of steady traveling, I would chance upon a little group ofnatives hidden away in some dense thicket, it seemed to me that theymust be fairies, not real. I came upon the old trail, Padre, the_Camino Real_, now sunken and overgrown, which the Spaniards used. They called it the Panamá trail. It used to lead down to Cartagena. _Hombre_! in places it is now twenty feet deep!"

"But, gold, Don Jorge?"

"Ah, Padre, what quartz veins I saw in that country! _Hombre_! Goldwill be discovered there without measure some day! But--_Caramba_!This map which Don Carlos gave me is much in error. I must consultagain with him. Then I shall return to Simití. " Josè regretfully sawhim depart, for he had grown to love this ruggedly honest soul. 

Meantime, Don Mario sulked in his house; nor during the interveningyear would he hold anything more than the most formal intercourse withthe priest. Josè ignored him as far as possible. Events move withterrible deliberation in these tropic lands, and men's minds are heavyand lethargic. Josè assumed that Don Mario had failed in the supportupon which he had counted; or else Diego's interest in Carmen wasdormant, perhaps utterly passed. Each succeeding day of quietincreased his confidence, while he rounded out month after month inthis sequestered vale on the far confines of civilization, and thegirl attained her twelfth year. Moreover, as he noted with marveling, often incredulous, mental gaze her swift, unhindered progress, therapid unfolding of her rich nature, and the increasing development ofa spirituality which seemed to raise her daily farther above the planeon which he dwelt, he began to regard the uninterrupted culmination ofhis plans for her as reasonably assured, if not altogether certain. 

Juan continued his frequent trips down to Bodega Central as generalmessenger and transportation agent for his fellow-townsmen, meanwhileadoring Carmen from a distance of respectful decorum. Rosendo andLázaro, relaxing somewhat their vigilance over the girl, laboreddaily on the little _hacienda_ across the lake. The dull-wittedfolk, keeping to their dismally pretentious mud houses during thepulsing heat of day, and singing their weird, moaning laments in thequiet which reigned over this maculate hollow at night, followedundeviatingly the monotonous routine of an existence which had noother aim than the indulgence of the most primitive material wants. 

"Ah, Padre, " Rosendo would say of them, "they are so easy! They loveidleness; they like not labor. They fish, they play the guitar, theygather fruits. They sing and dance--and then die. Padre, it is sad, isit not?"

Aye, thought the priest, doubly sad in its mute answer to theheartlessly selfish query of Cain. No one, not even the Church, wasthe keeper of these benighted brothers. He alone had constitutedhimself their shepherd. And as they learned to love him, to confidetheir simple wants and childish hopes to him, he came to realize theimmense ascendency which the priests of Colombia possess over thesimple understanding of the people. An ascendency hereditary anddominant, capable of utmost good, but expressed in the fettering ofinitiative and action, in the suppression of ambition, and thequenching of every impulse toward independence of thought. How helonged to lift them up from the drag of their mental encompassment!Yet how helpless he was to afford them the needed lustration of soulwhich alone could accomplish it!

"I can do little more than try to set them a standard of thought, "he would muse, as he looked out from the altar over the camellia-likefaces of his adult children when he conducted his simple Sundayservices. "I can only strive to point out the better things ofthis life--to tell them of the wonders of invention, of art, ofcivilization--I can only relate to them tales of romance andachievement, and beautiful stories--and try to omit in the recital allreference to the evil methods, aims, and motives which have manifestedin those dark crimes staining the records of history. The worldcalls them historical incident and fact. I must call them 'the mistthat went up from the ground and watered the face of the earth. '"

But Josè had progressed during his years in Simití. It had beenhard--only he could know how hard!--to adapt himself to the narrowenvironment in which he dwelt. It had been hard to conform to theseodd ways and strange usages. But he now knew that the people'sreserve and shyness at first was due to their natural suspicion ofhim. For days, even weeks, he had known that he was being weighed andwatched. And then love triumphed. 

It is true, the dull staring of the natives of this unkempt town hadlong continued to throw him into fits of prolonged nervousness. Theyhad not meant to offend, of course. Their curiosity was far frommalicious. But at hardly any hour of the day or night could he look upfrom his work without seeing dark, inquisitive faces peering inthrough the latticed window or the open door at him, watchful of theminutest detail of his activity. He had now grown used to that. And hehad grown used to their thoughtless intrusion upon him at any hour. Hehad learned, too, not to pale with nausea when, as was their wont ofmany centuries, the dwellers in this uncouth town relentlessly pursuedtheir custom of expectorating upon his floor immediately they enteredand stood before him. He had accustomed himself to the hourlyintrusion of the scavenger pigs and starving dogs in his house. And hecould now endure without aching nerves the awful singing, the maudlinwails, the thin, piercing, falsetto howls which rose almost nightlyabout him in the sacred name of music. For these were children withwhom he dwelt. And he was trying to show them that they were childrenof God. 

The girl's education was progressing marvelously. Already Josè hadbeen obliged to supplement his oral instruction with texts purchasedfor her from abroad. Her grasp of the English language was his dailywonder. After two years of study she spoke it readily. She loved it, and insisted that her conversations with him should be conductedwholly in it. French and German likewise had been taken up; and herknowledge of her own Castilian tongue had been enriched by the fewbooks which he had been able to secure for her from Spain. 

Josè's anomalous position in Simití had ceased to cause him worry. What mattered it, now that he had endeared himself to its people, andwas progressing undisturbed in the training of Carmen? He performedhis religious duties faithfully. His people wanted them. And he, inturn, knew that upon his observance of them depended his tenure of theparish. 

And he wanted to remain among them, to lead them, if possible, atleast a little way along what he was daily seeing to be the only pathout of the corroding beliefs of the human mind. He knew that hispeople's growth would be slow--how slow might not his own be, too! Whocould say how unutterably slow would be their united march heavenward!And yet, the human mind was expanding with wonderful rapidity inthese last days. What acceleration had it not acquired since thatdistant era of the Old Stone Man, when through a hundred thousandyears of darkness the only observable progress was a little greaterskill in the shaping of his crude flint weapons!

To Padre Diego's one or two subsequent curt demands that Carmen besent to him, Josè had given no heed. And perhaps Diego, absorbed inhis political activities as the confidential agent of Wenceslas, wouldhave been content to let his claim upon the child lapse, after manymonths of quiet, had not Don Jorge inadvertently set the current ofthe man's thought again in her direction. 

For Don Jorge was making frequent trips along the Magdalena river. Itwas essential to his business to visit the various riverine towns andto mingle freely with all grades of people, that he might run downrumors or draw from the inhabitants information which might result invaluable clues anent buried treasure. Returning one day to Simití fromsuch a trip, he regaled Josè with the spirited recital of hisexperience on a steamboat which had become stranded on a river bar. 

"_Bien_, " he concluded, "the old tub at last broke loose. Then we sawthat its engines were out of commission; and so the captain let herdrift down to Banco, where we docked. I was forced, not altogetheragainst my will, to put up with Padre Diego. _Caramba_! The old fox!But I had much amusement at his expense when I twitted him about hisdaughter Carmen, and his silly efforts to get possession of her!"

Josè shook with indignation. "Good heaven, friend!" he cried, "why canyou not let sleeping dogs alone? Diego is not the man to be beardedlike that! Would that you had kept away from the subject! And what didyou say to him about the girl?"

"_Caramba_, man! I only told him how beautiful she was, and how largefor her few years. _Bien_, I think I said she was the most beautifuland well-formed girl I had ever seen. But was there anything wrong intelling the truth, _amigo_?"

"No, " replied Josè bitterly, as he turned away; "you meant no harm. But, knowing the man's brutal nature, and his assumed claim on thegirl, why could you not have foreseen possible misfortune to her indwelling thus on her physical beauty? _Hombre_, it is too bad!"

"_Na_, _amigo_, " said Don Jorge soothingly, "nothing can come of it. Bien, you take things so hard!" But when Don Jorge again set out forthe mountains he left the priest's heart filled with apprehension. 

A few weeks later came what Josè had been awaiting, another demandupon him for the girl. Failure to comply with it, said Diego's letter, meant the placing of the case in the hands of the civil andecclesiastical authorities for action. 

Rosendo's face grew hard when he read the note. "There is a way, Padre. Let my woman take the girl and go up the Boque river to RosaMaria, the clearing of Don Nicolás. It is a wild region, where tapirsand deer roam, and where hardly a man has set foot for centuries. Thepeople of Boque will keep our secret, and she can remain hidden thereuntil--"

"No, Rosendo, that will not do, " replied Josè, shaking his head inperplexity. "The girl is developing rapidly, and such a course wouldresult in a mental check that might spell infinite harm. She and DoñaMaria would die to live by themselves up there in that lonely region. What about her studies? And--what would I do?"

"Then do you go too, Padre, " suggested Rosendo. 

"No, _amigo_, for that would cause search to be instituted by theBishop, and we certainly would be discovered. But, to take herand flee the country--and the Church--how can I yet? No, it isimpossible!" He shook his head dolefully, while his thoughts flewback to Seville and the proud mother there. 

"_Bien_, Padre, let us increase our contributions to Don Wenceslas. Let us send him from now on not less than one hundred _pesos oro_ eachmonth. Will not that keep him quiet, no matter what Diego says?"

"Possibly, " assented Josè. "At any rate, we will try it. " They stillhad some three thousand _pesos_ gold left. 

 * * * * *

"Padre, " said Rosendo, some days later, as they sat together in theparish house, "what do you think Diego wants of the girl?"

Josè hesitated. "I think, Rosendo--" he began. But could even a humanmind touch such depths of depravity? And yet--"I think, " he continuedslowly, "that Diego, having seen her, and now speculating on herfuture beauty of face and form--I think he means to place her in aconvent, with the view of holding her as a ready substitute for thewoman who now lives with him--"

"_Dios_! And that is my own daughter!" cried Rosendo, springing up. 

"Yes--true, Rosendo. And, if I mistake not, Diego also would like torepay the score he has against you, for driving him from Simití andholding the threat of death over him these many years. He can mostreadily do this by getting Carmen away from you--as he did the otherdaughter, is it not so?"

Rosendo came and stood before the priest. His face was strained withfearful anxiety. "Padre, " he said in a low voice, "I shall end thismatter at once. I go to Banco to-morrow to kill Diego. "

"You shall do nothing of the kind!" cried Josè, seizing hishand. "Why--Rosendo, it would mean your own death, or lifelongimprisonment!"

"And what of that, Padre?" said the old man with awful calmness. "Ihave nothing that is not hers, even to my life. Gladly would I give itfor her. Let me die, or spend my remaining days in the prison, if thatwill save her. Such a price for her safety would be low. "

While he was speaking, Fernando, the town constable, entered. Hesaluted the men gravely, and drew from his pocket a document to whichwas attached the Alcalde's official seal. 

"Señores, " he said with much dignity, as if the majesty of his littleoffice weighed upon him, "I am commanded by Señor, the Alcalde, toexercise the authority reposing in him and place Don Rosendo Arizaunder arrest. You will at once accompany me to the _cárcel_, " headded, going up to the astonished Rosendo and laying a hand upon hisshoulder. 

"Arrest! Me! _Hombre_! what have I done?" cried the old man, steppingback. 

"_Bien_, _amigo_, I do not find it my duty to tell you. The SeñorAlcalde hands me the document and commands me to execute it. As forthe cause--_Bien_, you must ask him. "

"Come, " said Josè, the first to recover from his astonishment, "let usgo to him at once. " He at any rate had now an opportunity to confrontDon Mario and learn what plans the man had been devising these manymonths. 

The Alcalde received the men in his little _patio_, scowling andmenacing. He offered them no greeting when they confronted him. 

"Don Mario, " asked Josè in a trembling voice, "why have you put thisindignity upon our friend, Rosendo? Who orders his arrest?"

"Ask, rather, _Señor Padre_, " replied the Alcalde, full of wrath, "what alone saves you from the same indignity. Only that you are apriest, _Señor Padre_, _nada más_! His arrest is ordered by PadreDiego. "

"And why, if I may beg the favor?" pursued Josè, though he well knewthe sordid motive. 

"Why? _Caramba_! Why lay the hands of the law upon those who deprive asuffering father of his child! _Bien_, _Fernando_, " turning to theconstable, "you have done well. Take your prisoner to the _cárcel_. "

"No!" cried Rosendo, drawing back. "No, Don Mario, I will not go tothe jail! I will--"

"_Caramba!_" shouted the Alcalde, his face purple. "I set your trialfor to-morrow, in the early morning. But this night you will spend inthe jail! _Hombre!_ I will see if I am not Alcalde here! And look you, _Señor Padre_, if there is any disturbance, I will send for thegovernment soldiers! Then they will take Rosendo to the prison inCartagena! And that finishes him!"

Josè knew that, if Diego had the support of the Bishop, this was noidle threat. Rosendo turned to him in helpless appeal. "What shall Ido, Padre?" he asked. 

"It is best that you go to the jail to-night, Rosendo, " said Josè withsinking heart. "But, Don Mario, " turning menacingly to the Alcalde, "mark you, his trial takes place in the morning, and he shall bejudged, not by you alone, but by his fellow-townsmen!"

"Have I not said so, señor?" returned Don Mario curtly, with a note ofdeep contempt in his voice. 

As in most small Spanish towns, the jail was a rude adobe hut, with nofurnishings, save the wooden stocks into which the feet of the haplessprisoners were secured. Thus confined, the luckless wight who chancedto feel the law's heavy hand might sit in a torturing position fordays, cruelly tormented at night by ravenous mosquitoes, and whollydependent upon the charity of the townsfolk for his daily rations, unless he have friends or family to supply his needs. In the presentinstance Don Mario took the extra precaution of setting a guard overhis important prisoner. 

Josè, benumbed by the shock and bewildered by the sudden precipitationof events, accompanied Rosendo to the jail and mutely watched theprocedure as Fernando secured the old man's bare feet in the rudestocks. And yet, despite the situation, he could not repress a senseof the ridiculous, as his thought dwelt momentarily on the little_opéra bouffe_ which these child-like people were so continuallyenacting in their attempts at self-government. But it was a play thatat times approached dangerously near to the tragic. The passions ofthis Latin offshoot were strong, if their minds were dull andlethargic, and when aroused were capable of the most despicable, aswell as the most grandly heroic deeds. And in the present instance, when the fleeting sense of the absurd passed, Josè knew that he wasfacing a crisis. Something told him that resistance now would beuseless. True, Rosendo might have opposed arrest with violence, andperhaps have escaped. But that would have accomplished nothing forCarmen, the pivot upon which events were turning. Josè had reasonedthat it were better to let the Alcalde play his hand first, in thesmall hope that as the cards fell he might more than match hisopponent's strength with his own. 

"_Na_, Padre, do not worry, " said Rosendo reassuringly. "It is for hersake; and we shall have to know, as she does, that everything willcome out right. My friends will set me free to-morrow, when the trialtakes place. And then"--he drew the priest down to him and whisperedlow--"we will leave Simití and take to the mountains. "

Josè bent his heavy steps homeward. Arriving at Rosendo's house, hesaw the little living room crowded with sympathetic friends who hadcome to condole with Doña Maria. That placid woman, however, had notlost in any degree her wonted calm, even though her companions heldforth with much impassioned declamation against the indignity whichhad been heaped upon her worthy consort. He looked about for Carmen. She was not with her foster-mother, nor did his inquiry reveal herwhereabouts. He smiled sadly, as he thought of her out on the shales, her customary refuge when storms broke. He started in search of her;but as he passed through the _plaza_ Mañuela Cortez met him. "Padre, "she exclaimed, "is the little Carmen to go to jail, too?"

Josè stopped short. "Mañuela--why do you say that?" he askedhurriedly, his heart starting to beat like a trip-hammer. 

"Because, Padre, I saw the constable, Fernando, take her into DonMario's house some time ago. "

Josè uttered an exclamation and started for the house of the Alcalde. Don Mario stood at the door, his huge bulk denying the priestadmission. 

"Don Mario!" panted Josè. "Carmen--you have her here?"

Fernando, who had been sitting just within the door, rose and came tohis chief's side. Josè felt his brain whirling. Fernando steppedoutside and took his arm. The Alcalde's unlovely face expanded in asinister leer. "It is permissible to place even a priest in thestocks, if he becomes _loco_, " he said significantly. 

Josè tightened his grip upon himself. Fernando spoke quickly:

"It was necessary to take the girl in custody, too, Padre. But do notworry; she is safe. "

"But--you have no right to take her--"

"There, _Señor Padre_, calm yourself. What right had you to separateher from her father?"

"Diego is not her father! He lies! And, Don Mario, you have noauthority but his--"

"You mistake, _Señor Padre_, " calmly interrupted the Alcalde. "I havea much higher authority. "

Josè stared dully at him. "Whose, then?" he muttered, scarce hearinghis own words. 

"The Bishop's, _Señor Padre_, " answered Don Mario, with a cruel grin. 

"The Bishop! But--the old man--"

"_Na_, _Señor Padre_, but the Bishop is fairly young, you know. Thatis, the new one--"

"The new one!" cried the uncomprehending Josè. 

"To be sure, _Señor Padre_, the new Bishop--formerly Señor DonWenceslas Ortiz. "

Josè beat the air feebly as his hand sought his damp brow. Hisconfused brain became suddenly stagnant. 

"_Bien_, _Señor Padre_, " put in Fernando gently, pitying the priest'sagony. "You had not heard the news. Don Mario received letters to-day. The old Bishop of Cartagena died suddenly some days ago, and DonWenceslas at once received the temporary appointment, until thevacancy can be permanently filled. There is talk of making Cartagenaan archbishopric, and so a new bishop will not be appointed until thatquestion is settled. Meanwhile, Don Wenceslas administers the affairsof the Church there. "

"And he--he--" stammered the stunned priest. 

"To be sure, _Señor Padre_, " interrupted Don Mario, laughing aloud;"the good Don Wenceslas no doubt has learned of the beautiful Carmen, and he cannot permit her to waste her loveliness in so dreary a placeas Simití. And so he summons her to Cartagena, in care of his agent, Padre Diego, who awaits the girl now in Banco to conduct her safelydown the river. At least, this is what Padre Diego writes me. _Bien_, it is the making of the girl, to be so favored by His Grace!"

Josè staggered and would have fallen, had not Fernando supported him. Don Mario turned into his house. But as he went he spitefully hurledback:

"_Bien_, _Señor Padre_, whom have you to blame but yourself? You keepa child from her suffering father--you give all your time to her, neglecting the other poor children of your parish--you send Rosendointo the mountains to search for La Libertad--you break youragreement with me, for you long ago said that we should worktogether--is it not so? You find gold in the mountains, but you donot tell me. _Na_, you work against me--you oppose my authority asAlcalde--_Bien_, you opposed even the authority of the goodBishop--may he rest with the Saints! You have not made a good priestfor Simití, _Señor Padre_--_na_, you have made a very bad one! Andnow you wonder that the good Don Wenceslas takes the girl from you, to bring her up in the right way. _Caramba_! if it is not already toolate to save her from your bad teachings!" His voice steadily rosewhile he talked, and ended in a shrill pipe. 

Josè made as if to reach him; but Fernando held him back. The Alcaldegot quickly within the house and secured the door. "Go now to yourhome, Padre, " urged Fernando; "else I shall call help and put you inthe stocks, too!"

"But I will enter that house! I will take the child from him!" shoutedJosè desperately, struggling to gain the Alcalde's door. 

"Listen to me, Padre!" cried Fernando, holding to the frenzied man. "The little Carmen--she is not in there!"

"Not--in--there! Then where is she, Fernando?--for God's sake tellme!" appealed the stricken priest. Great beads of perspiration stoodupon his face, and tears rolled down his drawn cheeks. 

Fernando could not but pity him. "_Bien_, Padre, " he said gently;"come away. I give you my word that the girl is not in the house ofthe Alcalde. But I am not permitted to say where she is. "

"Then I will search every house in Simití!" cried the priest wildly. 

"_Na_, Padre, you would not find her. Come, I will go home with you. "He took Josè's arm again and led him, blindly stumbling, to the parishhouse. 

By this time the little town was agog with excitement. People ran fromhouse to house, or gathered on the street corners, discussing theevent. 

"_Caramba!_" shrilled one wrinkled beldame, "but Simití was very quietuntil the _Cura_ came!"

"_Na_, señora, " cried another, "say, rather, until that wicked littlehada was brought here by Rosendo!"

"_Cierto_, she is an _hada_!" put in a third; "she cured Juanita ofgoitre by her charms! I saw it!"

"_Caramba_! she works with the evil one. I myself saw her come fromthe old church on the hill one day! _Bien_, what was she doing? I say, she was talking with the bad angel which the blessed Virgin has lockedin there!"

"Yes, and I have seen her coming from the cemetery. She talks with thebuzzards that roost on the old wall, and they are full of evilspirits!"

"And she brought the plague two years ago--who knows?" piped anotherexcitedly. 

"_Quien sabe_? But it was not the real plague, anyway. "

"_Bueno_, and that proves that she caused it, no?"

"_Cierto_, _señora_, she cast a spell on the town!"

Josè sat in his little house like one in a dream. Fernando remainedwith him. Doña Maria had gone to the jail to see Rosendo. Juan hadreturned that morning to Bodega Central, and Lázaro was at work on theplantation across the lake. Josè thought bitterly that the time hadbeen singularly well chosen for the _coup_. Don Mario's last wordsburned through his tired brain like live coals. In a sense the Alcaldewas right. He had been selfishly absorbed in the girl. But he alone, excepting Rosendo, had any adequate appreciation of the girl's realnature. To the stagnant wits of Simití she was one of them, but withsingular characteristics which caused the more superstitious and lessintelligent to look upon her as an uncanny creature, possessed ofoccult powers. 

Moreover, Josè had duped Don Mario with assurances of coöperation. Hehad allowed him to believe that Rosendo was searching for La Libertad, and that he should participate in the discovery, if made. Had hiscourse been wholly wise, after all? He could not say that it had. 

But--God above! it was all to save an innocent child from the blackestof fates! If he had been stronger himself, this never could havehappened. Or, perhaps, if he had not allowed himself to be lulled tosleep by a fancied security bred of those long months of quiet, hemight have been awake and alert to meet the enemy when he returned tothe attack. Alas! the devil had left him for a season, and Josè hadlaid down "the shield of faith, " while he lost himself in theintellectual content which the study of the new books purchased withhis ancestral gold had afforded. But evil sleeps not; and with apersistency that were admirable in a better cause, it returned withunbated vigor at the moment the priest was off his guard. 

 * * * * *

Dawn broke upon a sleepless night for Josè. The Alcalde had sent wordthat Fernando must remain with the priest, and that no visits would bepermitted to Rosendo in the jail. Josè had heard nothing from Carmen, and, though often during the long night he sought to know, as shewould, that God's protection rested upon her; and though he soughtfeebly to prove the immanence of good by knowing no evil, the morningfound him drawn and haggard, with corroding fear gnawing his desolateheart. Fernando remained mute; and Doña Maria could only learn thatthe constable had been seen leading the girl into Don Mario's houseshortly after Rosendo's arrest. 

At an early hour the people, buzzing with excitement, assembled forthe trial, which was held in the town hall, a long, empty adobe houseof but a single room, with dirt floor, and a few rough benches. TheAlcalde occupied a broken chair at one end of the room. The trialitself was of the simplest order: any person might voice his opinion;and the final verdict was left to the people. 

In a shaking voice, his frame tremulous with nervous agitation, Rosendo recounted the birth of the child at Badillo, and the manner ofher coming into his family. He told of Diego's appointment to Simití, and of the loss of his own daughter. Waxing more and more energetic ashis recital drew out, he denounced Diego as the prince of liars, andas worthy of the violent end which he was certain to meet if ever thatrenegade priest should venture near enough for him to lay his handsupon him. The little locket was produced, and all present commented onthe probable identity of the girl's parents. Many affected to detect aresemblance to Diego in the blurred photograph of the man. Othersscouted the idea. Don Mario swore loudly that it could be no other. Diego had often talked to him, sorrowfully, and in terms of deepestaffection, about the beautiful woman whose love he had won, but whomhis vows of celibacy prevented from making his lawful wife. TheAlcalde's recital was dramatic to a degree, and at its close severalexcitedly attempted to address the multitude at the same time. 

Oratory flowed on an ever rising tide, accompanied by much violentgesticulation and expectoration by way of emphasis. At length it wasagreed that Diego had been, in times past, a bad man, but that theverbal proofs which he had given the Alcalde were undoubtedly valid, inasmuch as the Bishop stood behind them--and Don Mario assured thepeople that they were most certainly vouched for by His Grace. The daywas almost carried when the eloquent Alcalde, in glowing rhetoric, painted the splendid future awaiting the girl, under the patronage ofthe Bishop. How cruel to retain her in dreary little Simití, eventhough Diego's claim still remained somewhat obscure, when His Grace, learning of her talents, had summoned her to Cartagena to be educatedin the convent for a glorious future of service to God! Ah, that alike beautiful career awaited all the children of Simití!

Josè at length forced himself before the people and begged them tolisten to him. But, when he opened his mouth, the words stumbled andhalted. For what had he to say? To tell these people that he wasstriving to educate the girl away from them was impossible. To saythat he was trying to save her from the Church would be fatal. And toreiterate that Diego's claim was a fabrication, added nothing of valueto the evidence, for what did he know of the child's parentage? Hefeebly begged them to wait until Diego's claim had been eithercorroborated or annulled. But no; they had the Bishop's corroboration, and that sufficed. "And, _Caramba_!" cried Don Mario, interrupting thepriest in a loud voice, "if we oppose the Bishop, then will he sendthe government soldiers to us--and you know what--"

"_Cielo_, yes!" came from the multitude in one voice. 

Josè sank down thoroughly beaten. His hands were tied. The case nowrested with her God. 

The people drew apart in little groups to discuss the matter. DonMario's beady eyes searched them, until he was certain of the way thetide was flowing. Then he rose and called for order. 

"_Bueno_, _amigos y amigas_, " he began with immense dignity; "what sayyou if we sum up the case as follows: The proofs have the support ofthe Bishop, and show that the girl is the daughter of Padre Diego. Rosendo is guilty of having kept her from her own father, and for thathe should be severely punished. Let him be confined in the jail forsix months, and be forced to pay to us a fine of one thousand _pesosoro_--"

"_Caramba_! but he has no such sum, " cried the people with mouthsagape. 

"_Bien_, I say he can get it!" retorted the Alcalde, looking meaninglyat Josè. "And he should pay it for depriving the child of a father'slove and the religious instruction which he would have given her!"

Josè jumped to his feet. "Friends!" he cried, playing his last card. "Will you not remember that more than that amount is due Rosendo forthe care of the child? Who will repay him?"

The whimsical, fickle people broke into excited exclamations. 

"_Cierto!_"

"The _Cura_ is right!"

"Let Rosendo pay no fine--he has no gold, anyway!"

"Cut down the sentence, Don Mario. We do not like this!"

The Alcalde saw that he had gone a bit too far. "_Bueno_, then, " heamended. "We will cancel both the fine and Padre Diego's debt toRosendo, and the sentence shall be reduced to--what say you all?"

"A month in the jail, Don Mario, no more, " suggested one. 

An exclamation of approval from the crowd drowned the protest whichJosè sought vainly to voice. Rosendo rose quickly; but Fernando andothers seized him. 

"_Bien_, it is approved, " bawled the Alcalde, waving his thick arms. "Take the prisoner to the _cárcel_, _Señor Policía_, " turning to theconstable. 

"And the girl, Señor the Alcalde--when will you send her to herfather?" called some one. 

"Yes, Don Mario, she must be taken to Padre Diego at once, " piped awoman's shrill voice. 

"_Bien_, " shouted the Alcalde, following his words with a long, coarselaugh, "I was wise enough to know what you would decide, and sent thegirl down the river last night!"

CHAPTER 25

The candles and smoky oil lamps of Banco threw a fitful shimmer outupon the great river, casting huge, spectral shadows across its muddy, swirling waters, and seeming rather to intensify the blackness thatlay thick and menacing upon its restless bosom. Rivermen who followtheir hazardous calling along the Magdalena do not lightly risk thedangers of travel by night in their native canoes, when at any momenta false stroke, a sudden crash against a tossing forest tree, and acry through the inky blackness, might sound to the straining ears ofhushed listeners on the distant banks the elements of another of themighty river's grim nocturnal tragedies. 

But on the night following the trial of Rosendo in distant Simití acanoe stole like a thing ashamed through the heavy shadows along theriver's margin, and poked its blunt nose into the ooze at the upperedge of the town. Its two scantily clad _bogas_, steaming withperspiration and flecked with mud from the charged waters, spranglightly from the frail craft and quickly made it fast to one of thelong stilts upon which a ramshackle frame house rested. Then theyassisted the third occupant of the canoe, a girl, to alight; andtogether they wended their way up the slippery bank and toward thetown above. 

"_Caramba_, _compadre_!" ejaculated one of the men, stumbling into adeep rut, "it is well you know where we go. _Hombre_! but I travel nomore on the river by night. And, _compadre_, we had best ask PadreDiego to offer a candle to the Virgin for our safe arrival, no?"

The other man chuckled. "To be sure, friend Julio. Don Diego has muchinfluence with virgins. "

"_Hombre_! I like not his dirty work. "

"_Bien, amigo_, what would you? You are well paid; and besides, youscore against that baby-faced priest, Josè, who drove you out ofSimití because you were not married to your woman. You cannotcomplain, _compadre_. "

"_Caramba!_ I have yet to see the color of the _pesos_. I do not muchtrust your Padre Diego. "

"_Na, amigo_, a bit of rum will put new life into your soaked gizzard. _Cierto_, this trip down the river was a taste of purgatory; but youknow we may as well get used to it here, for when we _pobres_ are deadwho will buy Masses to get us out?"

"_Caramba!_" muttered the other sullenly, as he stumbled on throughthe darkness, "but if we have no money the priests will let us burnforever!"

The girl went along with the men silently and without complaint, evenwhen her bare feet slipped into the deep ruts in the trail, or werepainfully bruised and cut by the sharp stones and bits of wood thatlay in the narrow path. Once she fell. The man addressed as Julioassisted her to her feet. The other broke into a torrent of profaneabuse. 

"_Na, Ricardo, _" interrupted Julio, "hold your foolish tongue and letthe girl alone! You and I have cursed all the way from Simití, but shehas made no complaint. She shames me. _Caramba_, I wish I were wellout of this business!"

A few minutes later they struck one of the main thoroughfares. Thenthe men stopped to draw on their cotton shirts and trousers beforeentering the town. The road was better here, and they made rapidprogress. The night was far spent, and the streets were deserted. Inthe main portion of the town ancient Spanish lamps, hanginguncertainly in their sconces against old colonial houses, threw afeeble light into the darkness. Before one of the better of thesehouses Julio and the girl were halted by their companion. 

"_Bien_, " he said, "it is here that the holy servant of God lives. _Caramba_, but may his _garrafón_ be full!"

They entered the open door and mounted the stone steps. On the floorabove they paused in the rotunda, and Ricardo called loudly. A sidedoor opened and a young woman appeared, holding a lighted candlealoft. Ricardo greeted her courteously. "_El Señor Padre, señoritaAna?_" he said, bowing low. "You will do us the favor to announce ourarrival, no?"

The woman stared uncomprehendingly at the odd trio. "The Padre is nothere, " she finally said. 

"_Dios y diablo!_" cried Ricardo, forgetting his courtesy. "But wehave risked our skins to bring him the brat, and he not here toreceive and reward us! _Caramba!_"

"But--Ricardo, he is out with friends to-night--he may return at anymoment. Who is the girl? And why do you bring her here?" She steppedforward, holding the candle so that its light fell full upon her face. As she did this the girl darted toward her and threw herself into thewoman's arms. 

"Anita!" she cried, her voice breaking with emotion, "Anita--I amCarmen! Do you not know me?"

The woman fell back in astonishment. "Carmen! What! The little Carmen, my father's--"

"Yes, Anita, I am padre Rosendo's Carmen--and yours!"

Ana clasped the girl in her arms. "_Santa Maria_, child! What bringsyou here, of all places?"

Ricardo stepped forward to explain. "As you may see, señorita, it iswe who have brought her here, at the command of her father, PadreDiego. "

"Her father!"

"Yes, señorita. And, since you say he is not in, we must wait until hereturns. "

The woman stood speechless with amazement. Carmen clung to her, whileRicardo stood looking at them, with a foolish leer on his face. Juliodrew back into the shadow of the wall. 

"_Bien, señorita_, " said Ricardo, stepping up to the child andattempting to take her arm, "we will be held to account for the girl, and we must not lose her. _Caramba!_ For then would the good Padredamn us forever!"

Carmen shrank away from him. Julio emerged swiftly from the shadow andlaid a restraining hand on Ricardo. The woman tore Carmen from hisgrasp and thrust the girl behind herself. "_Cierto_, friend Ricardo, we are all responsible for her, " she said quickly. "But you are tiredand hungry--is it not so? Let me take you to the _cocina_, where youwill find roast pig and a bit of red rum. "

"Rum!" The man's eyes dilated. "_Caramba!_ my throat is like the ashesof purgatory!"

"Come, then, " said the woman, holding Carmen tightly by the hand andleading the way down the steps to the kitchen below. Arriving there, she lighted an oil lamp and hurriedly set out food and a large_garrafón_ of Jamaica rum. 

"There, _compadre_, is a part of your reward. And we will now waituntil Padre Diego arrives, is it not so?"

While the men ate and drank voraciously, interpolating their actionsat frequent intervals with bits of vivid comment on their river trip, the woman cast many anxious glances toward the steps leading to thefloor above. From time to time she replenished Ricardo's glass, andurged him to drink. The man needed no invitation. Physical exhaustionand short rations while on the river had prepared him for just whatthe woman most desired to accomplish, and as glass after glass of thefiery liquor burned its way down his throat, she saw his scant witfading, until at last it deserted him completely, and he sank into adrunken torpor. Then, motioning to Julio, who had consumed less of therum, she seized the senseless Ricardo by the feet, and together theydragged him out into the _patio_ and threw him under a _platano_tree. 

"But, señorita--" began Julio in remonstrance, as thoughts of Diego'swrath filtered through his befuddled brain. 

"Not a word, _hombre_!" she commanded, turning upon him. "If you lay ahand upon this child my knife shall find your heart!"

"But--my pay?"

"How much did Padre Diego say he would give you?" she demanded. 

"Three _pesos oro_--and rations, " replied the man thickly. 

"Wait here, then, and I will bring you the money. "

Still retaining Carmen's hand, she mounted the steps, listeningcautiously for the tread of her master. Reaching the rotunda above, she drew Carmen into the room from which she had emerged before, and, bidding her conceal herself if Diego should arrive, took her walletand hastily descended to where the weaving Julio waited. 

"There, _amigo_, " she said hurriedly, handing him the money. "Now doyou go--at once! And do not remain in Banco, or Padre Diego willsurely make you trouble. Your life is not safe here now. Go!" Shepointed to the door; and Julio, impressed with a sense of his danger, lost no time in making his exit. 

Returning to Carmen, the woman seated herself and drew the girl toher. "Carmen, child!" she cried, trembling, as her eyes searched thegirl. "Tell me why you are here!"

"I do not know, Anita dear, " murmured the girl, nestling close to thewoman and twining an arm about her neck; "except that day beforeyesterday the Alcalde put padre Rosendo into the jail--"

"Into the jail!"

"Yes, Anita dear. And then, when I was going to see him, Fernando ranout of Don Mario's house and told me I must go in and see the Alcalde. Julio Gomez and this man Ricardo were there talking with Don Mario inthe _patio_. Then they threw a _ruana_ over me and carried me outthrough the _patio_ and around by the old church to the Boque trail. When we got to the trail they made me walk with them to the Inaneariver, where they put me into a canoe. They paddled fast, down to theBoque river; then to the Magdalena; and down here to Banco. They didnot stop at all, except when steamboats went by--oh, Anita, I neversaw a steamboat before! What big, noisy things they are! But PadreJosè had often told me about them. And when the big boats passed usthey made me lie down in the canoe, and they put the _ruana_ over meand told me if I made any noise they would throw me into the river. But I knew if I just kept still and knew--really _knew_--that Godwould take care of me, why, He would. And, you see, He did, for Hebrought me to you. " A tired sigh escaped her lips as she laid her headon the woman's shoulder. 

"But--oh, _Santa Maria_!" moaned the woman, "you are not safe here!What can I do?--what can I do?"

"Well, Anita dear, you can know that God is here, can't you? I knewthat all the way down the river. And, oh, I am so glad to see you!Why, just think, it is eight years since you used to play with me! Andnow we will go back to Simití, will we not, Anita?"

"Pray to the Virgin to help us, child! You may have influence withher--I have none, for my soul is lost!"

"Why, Anita dear, that is not true! You and I are both God's children, and He is right here with us. All we have to do is to know it--justreally _know_ it. "

"But, tell me, quick--Diego may be here any moment--why did he sendRicardo for you?"

The girl became very serious. "Anita dear, Padre Diego says I am hischild. "

"What!"

"Yes--his daughter--that he is my father. But--is it really so, Anita?"

"_Madre de Dios!_" cried the woman. "What a beast!--what a beast! Hesaw you in Simití when he was last there--and you are now abeautiful--No, child, you are not his daughter! The wretch lies--he isa sink of lies! He is rotten with sin! Oh, _Dios_!"

"Why, no, Anita dear, he is not a beast--we must love him, for he isGod's child, too, " said Carmen, patting the woman's wet cheek with hersoft hand. 

"He!--God's child!" She broke into a shrill of laughter. "_Carita_, heis Satan himself! You do not know him!"

"I don't mean that what you think you see is God's child, Anita dear;but that what you think you see stands for God's child, and isn'treal. And if we know that, why, we will see the real child of God--thereal man--and not what you call a beast. "

Ana apparently did not hear. Her thought was with the future. Carmenlooked about the room. "Oh, Anita, " she exclaimed, "what a beautifulplace, and what beautiful things you have!" She rubbed the tile floorwith her bare foot. "Why, Anita dear, it is just like the palacesPadre Josè has told me about!" She walked around the room, touchingthe various toilet articles on the dresser, passing her handscarefully over the upholstered chairs, and uttering exclamations ofwonder and delight. "Anita--Anita dear! Why, it is a palace! Oh! oh!oh!"

The woman looked up with a wan smile. "_Chiquita_, they are nothing. They are all cheap trinkets--nothing compared with what there is inthe big world beyond us. You poor dear, you have lived all your lifein miserable little Simití, and you haven't the slightest idea of whatthere is in the world!"

"But, Anita dear, Simití is beautiful, " the girl protested. 

"Beautiful!" The woman laughed aloud. "My dear, simple little girl!You have seen only this poor room, and you think it wonderful. I havebeen to Barranquilla and Cartagena with Padre Diego, and have seenhouses a thousand times more beautiful than this. And yet, even thoseare nothing to what there is in the world outside. "

Carmen went to the bed and passed her hand over the white counterpane. "Anita--why, is this--is this your--"

"Yes, _chiquita_, it is my bed. You have never seen a real bed, poorlittle thing. "

"But--" the child's eyes were wide with wonder--"it is so soft--yousink way into it--oh, so soft--like the heron's feathers! I didn'tsleep at all in the canoe--and I am so tired. "

"You blessed lamb!" cried the woman, springing up and clasping thegirl in her arms. "But--what can I do? When he returns, he may comeright up here! _Santa Maria_, help me!--what shall I do?"

"Anita--let me sleep in your bed--it is so soft--but--" looking downdubiously at her muddy feet. 

"Never mind them, child. " The woman's face had set in grim determination. She went to the dresser and took out a small stiletto, which shequickly concealed in the bosom of her dress. "Get right in, just as youare! I will take care of Diego, if he comes! _Santa Maria_, I will--"

"Anita dear, " murmured the girl, sinking down between the whitesheets, "you and I will just _know_ that God is everywhere, andthat He will take care of us, and of Padre Diego too. " With a sighof contentment the child closed her eyes. "Anita dear, " shewhispered softly, "wasn't He good to bring me right to you? Andto-morrow we will go back to Simití--and to padre Rosendo--and PadreJosè--and--and Cantar-las-horas--you haven't seen him for such a longtime--such a long--long--Anita dear, I--love--you--"

The child dropped asleep, just as a heavy step fell outside the door. Ana sprang up and extinguished the lamp, then went quickly out intothe rotunda. Padre Diego was standing on the top step, puffing andweaving unsteadily. The woman hurried to him and passed an arm abouthis waist. 

"Oh!" she exclaimed in a tone of feigned solicitation. "I feared youhad met with an accident! My heart beats like the patter of rain! Whydo you stay out so late and cause me worry?"

The bloated face of the man leered like a Jack-o'-lantern. "Spiritualretreat, my love--spiritual retreat, " he muttered thickly. "Imbibingthe spirits, you know. " He laughed heavily at his coarse joke. 

The woman gave him a look of inexpressible disgust. "But you are homesafe, at any rate, " she said in a fawning voice; "and my fear isquieted. Come now, and I will help you into bed. Not in there!" shecried, as he lurched toward the door of the room where Carmen lay; "inyour own room to-night!"

He swayed to and fro before her, as she stood with her back againstthe door. 

"_Nombre de Dios_!" he muttered, "but you grow daily more unkind toyour good Padre! _Bien_, it is well that I have a fresh littlehousekeeper coming!" He made again as if to enter the room. The womanthrew her arms about his neck. 

"Padre dear, " she appealed, "have you ceased to love your Anita? Shewould spend this night alone; and can you not favor her this once?"

"_Caramba_!" he croaked in peevish suspicion, "but I think you have aparamour in there. _Bien_, I will go in and shrive his wicked soul!"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you!" cried the desperate woman, her handstealing to the weapon concealed in her dress. "Pepito came thisevening with the case of _Oporto_ which you ordered long ago fromSpain. I put it in your study, for I knew you would want to sample itthe moment you returned. "

"_Caramba_!" he cried, turning upon her, "why do you not tell meimportant things as soon as I arrive? I marvel that you did not waituntil morning to break this piece of heavenly news! _Bien_, come tothe study, and you shall open a bottle for me. _Dios_! but my throatis seared with Don Antonio's vile rum! My parched soul panteth for thewine of the gods that flows from sunny Spain! _Caramba_, woman, giveyourself haste!"

Suffering himself to be led by her, he staggered across the rotundaand into the room where long before he had entertained for a briefhour Don Jorge and the priest Josè. Ana quickly broke the neck of abottle of the newly arrived wine and gave him a generous measure. 

"Ah, God in heaven!" murmured the besotted priest, sinking into achair and sipping the beverage; "it is the nectar of Olympus--tripledistilled through tubes of sunlight and perfumed with sweet airs andthe smiles of voluptuous _houris_! Ah, Lord above, you are good toyour little Diego! Another sip, my lovely Ana--and bring me thecigarettes. And come, fat lass, do you sit beside me and twine yourgraceful arms about my neck, while your soft breath kisses my oldcheek! Ah, _Dios_, who would not be human! _Caramba_! the good God maykeep His heaven, if He will but give me the earth!"

Ana drew his head against her bosom and murmured hypocritical words ofendearment in his ear, while she kept his glass full. Diego babbledlike a child. He nodded; struggled to keep awake; and at length fellasleep with his head on her shoulder. Then she arose, and, assuredthat he would be long in his stupor, extinguished the light andhurried to her own room. 

Carmen was sleeping peacefully. The woman bent over her with thelighted candle and looked long and wistfully. "Ah, _Santa Maria_!" sheprayed, "if you will but save her, you may do what you will with me!"

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she turned to the door andthrew the bolt. Coming back to the bed, she again bent over thesleeping girl. "_Santa Virgen_!" she murmured, "how beautiful! Like anangel! _Dios mío_--and that beast, he has seen her, and he would--ah, _Dios_!"

Going again to the dresser, she took from a drawer a sandalwoodrosary. Then she returned to the bed and knelt beside the child. "Blessed Virgin, " she prayed, while her hot tears fell upon the beads, "I am lost--lost! Ah, I have not told my beads for many years--Icannot say them now! _Santa Virgen_, pray for me--pray for me--and ifI kill him to-morrow, tell the blessed Saviour that I did it for thechild! Ah, _Santa Virgen_, how beautiful she is--how pure--whathair--she is from heaven--_Santa Virgen_, you will protect her?" Shekissed the cross repeatedly. "_Madre de Dios_--she is so beautiful, sopure--"

Carmen moved slightly, and the woman rose hastily from her knees. "Anita dear, " murmured the child, "Jesus waked Lazarus--out ofhis--sleep. Anita, why do you not come? I am waiting for you. "

"Yes, child, yes! But--_Dios mío_!" she murmured when Carmen againslept, "I am too wicked to sleep with so pure an angel!--no, I cannot! I must not!"

She spread a light shawl upon the tile floor near the window and laydown upon it, drawing a lace _mantilla_ over her face to protect itfrom the mosquitoes. "_Santa Virgen_", she murmured repeatedly, "praythe blessed Saviour to protect her to-morrow--pray for her, _Madre deDios_--pray for her!"

 * * * * *

The piercing shriek of a steamboat whistle roused the woman just asthe first harbingers of dawn spread over the river a crimson flushthat turned it into a stream of blood. The child was asleep. Ana bentover her and left a kiss on her forehead. Then she stole out of theroom and into the study. Padre Diego lay sunk in his chair like amonster toad. The woman threw him a look of utter loathing, and thenhastily descended into the _patio_. Ricardo lay under the _platano_tree, sleeping heavily. She roused him with a kick. 

"Up, man!" she cried, shaking him by the shoulder. "Padre Diego sendsyou this money, and bids you go. He is well satisfied with your work. "She held out a roll of _pesos_. 

The man, after much vigorous persuasion, got heavily to his feet. "_Caramba, señorita_!" he muttered in a dazed voice. "That last_tragito_--it was a bit too much, no? But--_Bien_, I would see thegood Padre. _Caramba_, my poor head! What rum! But, señorita, do methe great favor to ask the good Padre to see me one little moment. Imust deliver this letter to him. " He fumbled in his wallet and drewout an envelope. 

"He will not see you, Ricardo. He--"

"_Caramba_!" ejaculated the man loudly, as his senses returned. "But Ibelieve there is something wrong here! _Bien_, now I shall see thePadre! I am responsible to him!" He pushed the woman aside and enteredthe house. 

Ana started after him, and seized his arm. A scuffle ensued, andRicardo's voice was loud and shrill as they reached the stairs. Thewoman clung to him desperately. "Ricardo--anything you ask--double theamount, if you will go! Leave the house--I will tell the Padre--I willgive him the letter--"

"_Caramba_, but I will see him myself!" shouted the lightheadedRicardo. 

"_Dios y diablo_!" A heavy voice rolled down from above. "_Bien, enamorada_, is this the paramour whom you hid in your room last night?_Caramba_, you might have chosen a handsomer one!"

Ana sank down with a moan and buried her face in her hands. Diegoheavily descended the stairs. "Ha, Ricardo!" he exclaimed, recognizing the man. "_Bien_, so it is you! And the girl?"

"I do not know, Padre, " cried the man excitedly. "Señorita Ana, shemade me drunk last night. I brought the girl--I waited for you, butthe señorita--"

"_Caramba_, I understand!" replied Diego, turning to the woman. 

Ana had risen and was making for the stairs. Diego sprang to her andseized her by the wrist. With her free hand she drew the stiletto fromher bosom and raised it to strike. Ricardo saw the movement, and threwhimself upon her. 

"_Dios_!" cried Diego, as Ricardo felled the woman and wrenched theweapon from her grasp. "My pretty angel, you have the venom of aserpent! Sly wench! did you think to deceive your doting Padre?But--_Dios nos guarde_!"

Carmen, awakened by the noise, had left her bed, and now stood at thehead of the stairs, looking with dilated eyes at the strange scenebeing enacted below. 

Silence fell upon the group. Ana lay on the ground, her eyes strainedtoward the girl. Ricardo bent over her, awaiting his master's command. He knew now that she had forever lost her power over the priest. Diegostood like a statue, his eyes riveted upon Carmen. The girl lookeddown upon them from the floor above with an expression of wonder, yetwithout fear. 

Diego was the first to find his voice. "Ah, my pretty one!" hewheedled. "My lovely daughter! At last you come to your lonely padre!Wait for me, _hermosissima_!" He puffed painfully up the steps. 

"Carmen!--run!--run! Don't let him come near you--!" screamed Ana in avoice of horror. Ricardo clapped his hand heavily over her mouth. 

But the child did not move. Diego reached her and seized her hand. 

"_Carissima_!" he panted, feasting his eyes upon her, while a thrillpassed through his coarse frame. "_Madre de Dios_, but you have grownbeautiful! Don Mario was right--you are surely the most voluptuousobject in human form that has ever crossed my path. _Bien_, theblessed God is still good to his little Diego!"

He started away with her, but was detained by the loud voice ofRicardo. 

"_Bien_, Padre, my pay!"

"_Cierto, hombre_!" exclaimed Diego. "I was about to forget. But--afather's joy--ah! _Bien_, come to me to-morrow--"

"_Na, Señor Padre_, but to-day--now! I have risked my life--and I havea wife and babes! You will pay me this minute!"

"_Caramba_, ugly beast, but I will consign you to hell! _Maldito_! getyou gone! There are more convenient seasons than this for yourbusiness!" And, still holding tightly to the girl's hand, he led herinto the study. 

The woman turned upon Ricardo with the fury of a tiger. "See now whatyou have done!" she screamed. "This will cost your life, for you haveput into his dirty hands the soul of an angel, and he will damn it!_Santa Virgen_! If you had only taken the money I brought you--"

"Demon-tongue, I will take it now!" He snatched the roll of bills fromher hand and bolted through the door. With a low moan the woman sankto the ground, while oblivion drew its sable veil across her mind. 

Reaching the study, Diego pushed Carmen into the room and thenfollowed, closing the door after him and throwing the iron bolt. Turning about, he stood with arms akimbo upon his bulging hips andgazed long and admiringly at the girl as she waited in expectantwonder before him. A smile of satisfaction and triumph slowly spreadover his coarse features. Then it faded, and his heavy jowls and deepfurrows formed into an expression, sinister and ominous, through whichlewdness, debauchery, and utter corruption looked out brazenly, defiantly, into the fair, open countenance of the young girl beforehim. A sense of weariness and dull pain then seemed to follow. Heshook his heavy head and passed a hand across his brow, as if to brushaside the confusion left by the previous night's potations. 

"_Madre de Dios_!" he muttered, falling heavily into a chair, "but hadI known you were here, little rosebud, I should have tried to keepsober. " He reached out to grasp her; but she eluded him and wentquickly to the open window, where she stood looking down into thestreet below. The morning sunlight, streaming into the room, engulfedher in its golden flood and transmuted the child of earth into acreature divinely radiant, despite the torn gown and stains of rivertravel. 

"_Bien, carísíma_, " the man wheedled in a small, caressing voice, "where is your greeting to your glad padre? _Dios mío_!" he muttered, his eyes roving over her full figure, "but the Virgin herself wasnever more lovely! Come, daughter, " he purred, extending his arms;"come to a father's heart that now, praise the Saints! shall ache nomore for its lost darling. "

The girl faced about and looked at him for a few moments. What herglance conveyed, the man was utterly incapable of understanding. Thenshe drew up a chair that stood near the window, and sinking into it, buried her face in her hands. 

"_Caramba_, my smile of heaven! but why weep?" chirped Diego, affecting surprise. "Is it thus you celebrate your homecoming? Or arethese, perchance, fitting tears of joy? _Bien_, your padre's dotingheart itself weeps that its years of loneliness are at last ended. " Heheld the sleeve of his gown to his eyes and sniffed affectedly. 

The girl looked up quickly. "I am not weeping, " she said. 

"_Bien_, and what then?" he pursued. 

"I was just knowing, " she answered slowly, "that I was not afraid--thatGod was everywhere, even right here--and that He would not let anyharm come to me. "

Diego's eyes widened. Then he burst into a coarse laugh. "_Hombre_!and you ask Him to protect you from your adoring father! Come here, little wench. You are in your own home. Why be afraid?" He again heldout his arms to her. 

"I am not afraid--now, " she answered softly. "But--I do not think Godwill let me come to you. If you were really my father, He would. "

The man's mouth gaped in astonishment. A fleeting sense of shameswept through his festering mind. Then the lustful meanness of hiscorrupted soul welled up anew, and he laughed brutally. The ideawas delightfully novel; the girl beautifully audacious; the situationpiquantly amusing. He would draw her out to his further enjoyment. "So, " he observed parenthetically, "I judge you are on quite familiarterms with God, eh?"

"Very, " she replied, profoundly serious. 

The joke was excellent, and he roared with mirth. "_Bueno, pues_!" hecommented, reaching over and uncorking with shaking hand the bottlethat stood on the table. Then, filling a glass, "Suppose you thank Himfor sending his little Diego this estimable wine and your own charmingself, eh? Then tell me what He says. " Whereat he guffawed loudly andslapped his bulging sides. 

The girl had already bowed her head again in her hands. A long pauseensued. Diego's beady eyes devoured the beautiful creature before him. Then he waxed impatient. "_Bien_, little Passion flower, " heinterrupted, "if you have conveyed to Him my infinite gratitude, perhaps He will now let you come to me, eh?"

Carmen looked up. A faint smile hovered upon her lips. "I have thankedHim, Padre--for you and for me, " she said; "for you, that you reallyare His child, even if you don't know it; and for me that I know Healways hears me. That was what the good man Jesus said, you know, whenhe waked Lazarus out of the death-sleep. Don't you remember? And so Ikept thanking Him all the way down the river. "

Diego's eyes bulged as if they would pop from his head, and his mouthfell open wide, but no sound issued therefrom. The girl went onquietly:

"I was not afraid on the river, Padre. And I was not afraid to come inhere with you. I knew, just as the good man Jesus did at the tomb ofLazarus, that God had heard me--He just couldn't be God if He hadn't, you know. And then I remembered what the good man said about notresisting evil; for, you know, if we resist evil we make it real--andwe never, _never_ can overcome anything real, can we? So I resistedevil with good, just as Jesus told us to do. I just _knew_ that Godwas everywhere, and that evil was unreal, and had no power at all. Andso the _bogas_ didn't hurt me coming down the river. And you--you willnot either, Padre. "

She stopped and smiled sweetly at him. Then, very seriously:

"Padre, one reason why I was not afraid to come in here with you wasthat I thought God might want to talk to you through me, and I couldhelp you. You need help, you know. "

The man settled back in his chair and stared stupidly at her. His faceexpressed utter consternation, confusion, and total lack ofcomprehension. Once he muttered under his breath, "_Caramba_! she issurely an _hada_!" But Carmen did not hear him. Absorbed in hermission, she went on earnestly:

"You know, Padre, we are all channels through which God talks topeople--just like the _asequia_ out there in the street through whichthe water flows. We are all channels for divine love--so Padre Josèsays. "

The priest sat before her like a huge pig, his little eyes blinkingdully, and his great mouth still agape. 

"We are never afraid of real things, Padre, you know; and so Icouldn't be afraid of the real 'you, ' for that is a child of God. Andthe other 'you' isn't real. We are only afraid of our wrong thoughts. But such thoughts are not really ours, you know, for they don't comefrom God. But, " she laughed softly, "when I saw you coming up thesteps after me this morning--well, lots of fear-thoughts came tome--why, they just seemed to come pelting down on me like the rain. But I wouldn't listen to them. I turned right on them, just as I'veseen Cucumbra turn on a puppy that was nagging him, and I said, 'Here, now, I know what you are; I know you don't come from God; and anythingthat doesn't come from God isn't really anything at all!' And so theystopped pelting me. The good man Jesus knew, didn't he? That's why hesaid so often, 'Be not afraid. '"

She paused again and beamed at him. Her big eyes sparkled, and herface glowed with celestial light. Diego raised a heavy arm and, groping for the bottle, eagerly drained another glass of wine. 

"You think that wine makes you happy, don't you, Padre?" she observed, watching him gulp down the heavy liquor. "But it doesn't. It justgives you what Padre Josè calls a false sense of happiness. And whenthat false sense passes away--for everything unreal has just _got_ topass away--why, then you are more unhappy than you were before. Isn'tit so?"

The astonished Diego now regained his voice. "_Caramba_, girl!" heejaculated, "will you rein that runaway tongue!"

"No, Padre, " she replied evenly, "for it is God who is talking to you. Don't you hear Him? You ought to, for you are a priest. You ought toknow Him as well as the good man Jesus did. Padre, can you lay yourhands on the sick babies and cure them?"

The man squirmed uncomfortably for a moment, and then broke intoanother brutal laugh. "Sick babies! _Caramba_! but we find it easierto raise new babies than to cure sick ones! But--little _hada_!_Hombre_! do _hadas_ have such voluptuous bodies, such plump legs!_Madre de Dios_, girl, enough of your preaching! Come to me quick! Ihunger for you! Come!"

"No, Padre, " she answered quietly, "I do not want to come to you. ButI want to talk to you--"

"_Dios y diablo_! enough of your gab! _Caramba_! with a Venus beforeme do you think I yearn for a sermon? _Hombre_! delay it, delay it--"

"Padre, " she interrupted, "you do not see _me. _ You are looking onlyat your bad thoughts of me. "

"Ha! my thoughts, eh?" His laugh resembled the snort of an animal. 

"Yes, Padre--and they are _very_ bad thoughts, too--they don't comefrom God, and you are _so_ foolish to let them use you the way you do. Why do you, Padre? for you don't have to. And you know you see aroundyou only the thoughts that you have been thinking. Why don't you thinkgood thoughts, and so see only good things?"

"Now Mary bless my soul!" he exclaimed in mock surprise. "Can it bethat I don't see a plump little witch before me, but only my badthoughts, eh? Ha! ha! _Caramba_! that is good! _Bien_, then, " hecoaxed, "come to your poor, deluded padre and let him learn that youare only a thing of thought, and not the most enchanting little pieceof flesh that ever caused a Saint to fall!"

The girl sat silent before him. Her smile had fled, and in its placesadness and pity were written large upon her wistful face. 

"Come, my little bundle of thought, " he coaxed, holding out his fat, hairy arms. 

"No, Padre, " the girl answered firmly. 

"_Na_, then, still afraid, eh?" he taunted, with rising anger. 

"No, Padre; to be afraid would mean that I didn't understand God. "

"Ha! Then come to me and prove that you do understand Him, eh?" hesuggested eagerly. "_Caramba_! why do you sit there like a mummy? Areyou invoking curses on the bald pate of your desolate father?"

"No, Padre; I am thanking God all the time that He is here, and thatHe will not let you hurt me. "

The man's lust-inflamed eyes narrowed and the expression on his evilface became more sinister. "_Maldita_!" he growled, "will you comehither, or must I--"

"No. " She shook her head slowly, and her heavy curls glistened in thesunlight. "No, Padre, God will not let me come to you. "

Panting and cursing softly, the man got slowly to his feet. "_Madre deDios_!" he muttered; "then we will see if your God will let me come toyou!"

Carmen rose and stood hesitant. Her lips moved rapidly, though nosound came from them. They were forming the words of the psalmist, "InGod have I put my trust: I will not be afraid what man can do untome. " It was a verse Josè had taught her long since, when his own heartwas bursting with apprehension. 

Diego stumbled heavily toward the child. She turned quickly as if toflee. He thrust out his hand and clutched her dress. The flimsycalico, frayed and worn, tore its full length, and the gown fell tothe floor. She stopped and turned to face the man. Her white bodyglistened in the clear sunlight like a marble statue. 

_"Por el amor de Dios_!" ejaculated the priest, straightening up andregarding her with dull, blinking eyes. Then, like a tiger pouncingupon a fawn, he seized the unresisting girl in his arms and staggeredback to his chair. 

"_Caramba! Caramba_!" he exclaimed, holding her with one arm about herwaist, and with his free hand clumsily pouring another glass of wine. "Only a thing of thought, eh? _Madre de Dios! Bien_, pretty thought, drink with me this thought of wine!" He laughed boisterously at hiscrude wit, and forced the glass between her lips. 

"I--am not afraid--I am not afraid, " she whispered, drinking. "Itcannot hurt me--nor can you. God _is_ here!"

"Hurt you!" he panted, setting down the glass and mopping his hotbrow, as he settled back into the chair again. "_Caramba_! who hurtswhen he loves?"

"You--do--not--love--me, Padre!" she gasped under his tight clutch. "You have--only a wrong thought--of me--of love--of everything!"

"_Bien_--but you love me, pretty creature, is it not so?" he mocked, holding up her head and kissing her full on the mouth. 

"I--I love the _real_ 'you'--for that is God's image, " she murmured, struggling to hold her face away from his fetid breath. "But--I donot--love the way that image is--is translated--in your human mind!"

"_Caramba_!" he threw himself back and gave noisy vent to hisrisibility. "_Chiquita mía_! What grand language! Where did you learnit?"

For the moment the girl seemed to forget that she was in the fellclutches of a demon incarnate. Her thought strayed back to littleSimití, to Cucumbra, to Cantar-las-horas, to--ah, was _he_ searchingfor her now? And would he come?--

"It was Padre Josè; he taught me, " she whispered sadly. 

"Padre Josè! _Maldito_! The curse of God blast him, the monkey-faced_mozo! Caramba_! but he will teach you no more! You have a new masternow to give you a few needed lessons, _señorita mía_, and--"

"Padre Diego!" her tense voice checked further expression of his lowthought. "You have no power to curse anything! You have no power toharm me, or to teach me anything! God _is_ here! He _will_ protect me!He keeps all them that love Him!" She gasped again as his clutchtightened about her. 

"Doubtless, my lily. _Caramba_! your skin is like the velvet!" Heroughly drew the girl up on his knees. "To be sure He will protectyou, my _mariposa. _ And He is using me as the channel, you see--justas you said a few moments ago, eh?" His rude laugh again echoedthrough the room. 

"He is not--using you--at all!" she panted. "Evil thoughts are--areusing you. And all--they can do--is to kill themselves--and you!"

"_Madre Maria_! Is such a sad fate in store for me, my beautiful_hada_?" He chuckled and reached out again for the bottle. "Anotherlittle thought of wine, my love. It's only a thought, you know. Ha!ha! I must remember to tell Don Antonio of this!--_Maldita_!"

His clumsy movement had upset the bottle. Struggling to save itscontents, he relaxed his hold on Carmen. Like a flash she wormed hersupple body out under his arm, slid to the floor, and gained thewindow. 

"_Dios y diablo! Maldita! Maldita_!" shrilled Diego, aflame withwrath. "Cursed wench! when I lay these hands again on you--!"

Struggling to his feet, he made for the girl. But at the first stepthe light rug slid along the smooth tiles beneath his uncertain tread. He threw out an arm and sought to grasp the table. But as he did so, his foot turned under him. There was a sharp, snapping sound. With agroan the heavy man sank to the floor. 

For a moment Carmen stood as if dazed. Diego lay very still. Then thegirl picked up her torn dress and approached him carefully. "It washis bad thoughts, " she whispered; "he slipped on them; they threw him!I knew it--I just _knew_ it!"

Passing to one side, she gained the door, threw back the bolt, andhurried out into the rotunda. Crouched on the floor, the stilettoclasped in her hand, sat Ana, her face drenched with tears, and herchest heaving. When she saw the girl she sprang to her feet. 

"Carmen! Ah, _Dios_! your dress!--_Madre Maria_! I could not save you;I could not break through the heavy door; but I can punish him!" Sheburst into a flood of tears and started into the room. 

"No, Anita!" cried the girl, throwing herself into the woman's arms. "He is punished! He did not hurt me--God would not let him! Look!Anita, look!" pointing to the body on the floor. 

The woman stopped abruptly. "Carmen!" she whispered in awed tones, "did God strike him dead?"

"I don't know, Anita--but come! No!" clinging to the woman's skirt;"Anita dear, do not go in there! Leave him! Come away with me!"

The woman's eyes were wild, her hair loose and disheveled. "_Caramba_!"she cried, "but we will make sure that the beast is dead before wego! And if we leave this blade in his heart, it may be a warning toothers of his kind!"

"No, Anita--no! God will not let you kill him! You must not! Yourmurder-thoughts will kill you if you do! Come! Listen--it is asteamboat whistle! Oh, Anita--if it is going up the river--we can takeit--"

Ana hesitated. "But--leave him? He may--"

"Yes, Anita, yes; leave him with God!" pleaded the girl excitedly. "Come away, Anita--"

"But where, child?" asked the bewildered woman. 

"To Simití!"

"Simití! Never! Why--why, my father would kill me!"

"No, Anita dear; he loves you; he prays for you; he wants you! Oh, Anita, come! It is right--it is just what God has planned, I know! Pinmy dress together, and then hurry!"

The woman moved as if in a cloud. Mechanically she descended thestairs and left the house, her hand tightly clasped by Carmen. Dullyshe suffered herself to be led hurriedly to the river. A boat, up-bound, was just docking. The captain stood leaning over the railand shouting his commands. Ana recognized him. It was Captain Julio. 

"_Loado sea Dios_!" murmured the weeping woman, hurrying up the gangplank with the child. She hastened past the astonished passengers tothe captain and drew him to one side. 

"The child--" she gasped, "Rosendo Ariza's--of Simití--leave her atBadillo--they will take her over--"

"Wait, señora, " interrupted the captain tenderly. "Is it not time foryou to go home, too?" He laid a hand on her shoulder and looked downinto her streaming eyes. "Come, " he said quietly. And, leading themdown the deck, he opened the door of a vacant cabin and bade thementer. "You can tell me your story when we are under way, " he said, smiling as he closed the door. "_Bien_, " he muttered, his browclouding as he strode off. "I have been looking for this for sometime. But--the child--Ariza's--ah, the priest Diego! I think Isee--_Caramba_! But we will not tarry long here!"

A few minutes later the big boat, her two long funnels vomitingtorrents of smoke and sparks, thrust her huge wheel into the thickwaters and, swinging slowly out into mid-stream, turned her flat nosetoward the distant falls of Tequendama. In one of her aft cabins awoman lay on a cot, weeping hysterically. Over her bent a girl, with aface such as the masters have sought in vain. The tenderly whisperedwords might have been the lingering echo of those voiced in the littlemoonlit death-chamber of Cartagena long agone. 

"Anita dear, He is with us, right here. And His arms are wide open. And He says, 'Anita, come!'"

CHAPTER 26

"But, Padre dear, why are you so surprised that Padre Diego did nothurt me? I would have been much more surprised if he had. You arealways so astonished when evil doesn't happen--don't you ever look forgood? Why, I don't ever look for anything else! How could I when Iknow that God is everywhere?"

Josè strained her closer to himself. "The sense of evil--it overwhelmsme at times, _carita_--"

"But, Padre dear, why don't you know right then that it is nothing? Ifyou did, it would fade away, and only good would overwhelm you. " Shenestled closer to the man and clasped her arms more tightly about hisneck. "Why, Padre, " she resumed, "I was not a bit surprised whenCaptain Julio came and told us we were near Bodega Central, and thathe could see you and Juan and Lázaro sitting on the steps of theinn. "

"Yes, _chiquita_, we were resting for a moment. If a down-river boatcame by we were going to take it. If not, we expected to go in thecanoe. "

"Padre dear, what did you intend to do in Banco?"

The man hesitated. "Don't speak of it, child--we--"

"Juan and Lázaro have knives. I saw them. Padre--have you one, too?"

"I?--_chiquita_--"

"Padre dear, God never fights with knives. Anita had a knife; but Godwouldn't let her use it. He always has better ways than that. I don'tknow what happened to Padre Diego, except that he fell over his wickedthoughts. You know, Padre dear, somewhere in the Bible you read to methat 'With him is an arm of flesh; but with us is the Lord our God tohelp us, and to fight our battles. ' I thought of that when Padre Diegohad his arm around me and held me so tight that I could hardlybreathe. It was only an arm of flesh, after, all, and it couldn't holdme. "

"_Bien_, Padre, " interrupted Juan, coming up from the boat, "if we areto reach Simití to-night we must start at once. "

"_Bueno_, then let us set out, " returned Josè, rising. A muffled sobreached his ears. He turned to the woman huddled in the shadow of thedoor. 

"Come, Ana, " he said cheerily; "to-night you will again be home. "

"No, Padre--I do not go with you. I--"

"Anita!" In an instant Carmen's arms were around her. "When padreRosendo sees us, you and me, why--"

"_Carísima_!" The woman's tears flowed fast while she hugged the girlto her bosom. "No--no--he would drive me from his house! No--let mestay here. I will get work in the _posada_, perhaps. Or Captain Juliowill take me to Honda on his next trip, and get me a place--"

"Then we must ask him to get a place for us both, " interrupted Carmen, sitting calmly down beside her. "And think, Anita, how sad padreRosendo will be when he sees the men come back without us!"

"Carmen! I shall throw myself into the river!" cried the sorrowingwoman, rising. "You don't know what it is--"

"Yes, I do, Anita, " returned the girl quickly; "it is nothing--justzero--and you can't drown it! If it would do any good we would bothjump into the river--that is, if God told us to--wouldn't we? But itdoesn't help any to die, you know, for then we would have it all to doover again. "

"Ana, " said Josè, laying a hand on the woman's shoulder, "you do notunderstand her--neither do I, wholly. But if she tells you to go withus to Simití, why, I think I would go. I would leave it all with her. You may trust her influence with Rosendo. Come. "

He took her hand and led her, weeping, but no longer resisting, downto the canoe. Carmen followed, dancing like an animated sunbeam. "Whatfun, oh, what fun!" she chirped, clapping her hands. "And just as soonas we get home we will go right up to the _cárcel_ and let padreRosendo out!"

"_Na, chiquita_, " said Josè, shaking his head mournfully; "we have nopower to do that. "

"Well, then, God has, " returned the girl, nothing daunted. 

Juan pushed the heavily laden canoe from its mooring, and set itsdirection toward Simití. Silence drew over the little group, and thehours dragged while the boat crept slowly along the margin of thegreat river. The sun had passed its meridian when the little craftturned into the _caño. _ To Josè the change brought a most gratefulrelief. For, though his long residence in Simití had somewhat inuredhim to the intense heat of this low region, he had not yet learned toendure it with the careless indifference of the natives. Besides, hismind was filled with vivid memories of the horrors of his first rivertrip. And he knew that every future experience on the water would betinged by them. 

In the shaded _caño_ the sunlight, sifting through the interlockingbranches of ancient palms and _caobas_, mellowed and softened into aveil of yellow radiance that flecked the little stream with splashesof gold. Juan in the prow with the pole labored in silence. At timeshe stopped just long enough to roll a huge cigar, and to feast hisbright eyes upon the fair girl whom he silently adored. Lázaro, as_patron_, sat in the stern, saturnine and unimpassioned. The woman, exhausted by the recent mental strain, dozed throughout the journey. Carmen alone seemed alive to her environment. Every foot of advanceunfolded to her new delights. She sang; she chirped; she mimicked theparrots; she chattered at the excited monkeys. It was with difficultythat Josè could restrain her when her sharp eyes caught the glint ofbrilliant Passion flowers and orchids of gorgeous hue clinging to thedripping trees. 

"Padre!" she exclaimed, "they are in us, you know. They are not outthere at all! We see our thoughts of them--and lots of people wouldn'tsee anything beautiful about them at all, just because their thoughtsare not beautiful. Padre, we see--what you said to me once--we see ourinterpretations of God's ideas, don't we? That is what I told PadreDiego. But--well, he will just _have_ to see some day, won't he, Padredear? But now let us talk in English; you know, I haven't spoken itfor such a long time. "

Josè gazed at her in rapt silence. What a rare interpretation of themind divine was this child! But he wondered why one so pure andbeautiful should attract a mind so carnal as that of Diego. And yet--

"Ah!" he mused, "it is again that law. Good always stirs up itssuppositional opposite. And the most abundant good and the greatestpurity stir up the most carnal elements of the human mind. All historyshows it. The greater the degree of good, the greater the seemingdegree of evil aroused. The perfect Christ stirred the hatred of aworld. Carmen arouses Diego simply because of her purity. Yet sheknows that he can not harm her. "

His eyes met the girl's, and she answered his unspoken thought in thetongue which she was fast adopting. "We _have_ to love him, you know, Padre dear. "

"Love whom? Diego?"

"Why, yes, of course. We can't help loving him. Oh, not the 'him' thatthe human mind looks at, but the real 'him, ' you know--the 'him' thatis God's image. And you know there just isn't any other 'him, ' now isthere?"

"God above!" murmured Josè, "if I could but keep my thought asstraight as she does!"

"But, Padre dear, your thought _is_ straight. You know, God's thoughtis the only thought there really is. Any other thought has the minussign, and so it is zero. If we will always think of the real PadreDiego, and love that, why, the unreal one will fade away from ourthought. "

"Do you suppose, _chiquita_, that if we love him we will make himrepent?"

The child pondered the question for a moment. Then:

"Padre, what did you tell me once about the word 'repent'?"

"It comes from the Greek word '_metanoia_. '"

"Yes, " she reflected; "but what did you say that--"

"Oh, yes, I told you it meant a complete and radical change ofthought. "

"Well!" she exclaimed, her eyes brightening. 

Josè waited expectantly. It was heaven to have this girl before himand to drink in the naïve expressions of her active mind. 

"Padre dear, when John the baptiser said, 'Repent, for the kingdom ofheaven is at hand, ' did he mean to tell the people that they must havea complete change of thought?"

Josè laughed. And then he grew serious. "_Chiquita_, " he answered, "Ihave no doubt he meant just that. For you have taught me that therecan be no salvation without such a complete and radical change. "

"No, " she said with quick emphasis; "for God is mind, you know. AndHis thought is the only real thought there is or can be. The thoughtsof mortals are the opposites of His thoughts, and so they areillusions, and, like all lies, must pass away. If people want to beimmortal, they must think as God thinks, for He is immortal. They muststop thinking that there is any power but God. They must stop lettingin thoughts of sickness, of sin, of wickedness, and all those thingsthat in English you call 'discord. ' God says in the Bible, 'As theheavens are higher than the earth, so are my thoughts higher than yourthoughts. ' Well, God is immortal and perfect. And if we want to belike Him we must think His thoughts. For our thoughts become--things. Don't you see?"

Josè's face clouded. "I see, _chiquita_--sometimes very clearly--andthen again I don't see, " he said slowly. 

"You _do_ see!" she insisted, getting up on her knees and facing him. "And you see as God sees! And if you hold this thought always, why, itwill--it will be--"

"Externalized; is that what you are trying to say?" he suggested. 

"Yes, just that. Jesus said, 'As a man thinketh in his heart, so ishe. '"

"But, Carmen--I-- What you say is doubtless true in essence--but Ithink you have not grasped it all--there are so many gaps that yoursimple little system of religion does not fill in--so many greatquestions that you do not answer. I see, in part--and then, again, Idon't see at all. And when you were stolen away from Simití I sawnothing but the evil--and it nearly killed me!"

The girl studied him for a few moments. The man had always been anenigma to her. She could not understand a nature that soared into thespiritual empyrean one moment, and in the next fell floundering intothe bottomless pit of materialism. The undulating curve whichmarked the development of the Rincón mind was to her a thingincomprehensible. 

"Padre dear, " she said at length, a little sadly. "When you look atthe first chapter in the Bible and read there how God made everything, and man in His image, in the image of Mind, you see, and are veryhappy. But when you go on to the second chapter and read how the LordGod--not God, but the _Lord_ God--made a man of dirt, and how thisdirt man listened to his false thoughts and fell, why, then you areunhappy. Don't you see any difference between them? Can't you see thatone is a story of the real creation; and the other is the human mind'sinterpretation of the creation--an interpretation made according tothe way the human mind thinks the creating _ought_ to have been inmatter? You told me this yourself. And the second chapter shows howfar the human mind can go--it shows how limited it is. The human mindcouldn't get any farther than that--couldn't make a man out ofanything but dirt. It couldn't understand the spiritual creation. Andso it made a creation of its own. It couldn't understand God; and soit made a Lord God, just like itself. Can't you see? Padre dear, can'tyou? And if you see, can't you _stick_ to it and _live_ it, until allthe unreal passes away?"

Josè smiled into her earnest little face. "I will never cease to try, _chiquita_, " he said. "But we were talking about loving Diego, weren'twe? Yes, you are right, we must try to love him, for the good Jesussaid we must love our enemies. "

"But, if we love everybody, then we haven't any enemies. You can'tlove a real enemy--and so there aren't any real ones. We see in otherpeople only what is in our own thought. If we see evil as real, why, then we will see bad men and women all around us, for we only look atour thoughts. But, if we look only at God's thoughts--Padre dear, Ididn't see anything but God's thought when Padre Diego had me in hisarms. I knew it wasn't real, but was just the human way of looking atthings. And I knew that love was the great principle of everything, and that it just couldn't fail, any more than the principle of algebracould fail to solve my problems. Well, " she concluded with a littlesigh, "it didn't. "

"Dear little girl, you must be patient, very patient, with yourblundering old Padre Josè. He is groping for the light--"

In an instant, throwing the canoe into imminent danger of upsetting, the impulsive girl had hurled herself into his lap and clasped herarms about his neck. Juan and Lázaro by a quick and skillful effortkept the craft upright. 

"Oh, Padre dear!" she cried, "I didn't mean to say a word that wouldmake you unhappy--Padre dear, I love you so! Padre, look at yourlittle girl, and tell her that you love her!"

He clasped her fiercely. "No--no!" he murmured, "I--I mustnot--and--yet--_chiquita_--I adore you!" He buried his face in hershoulder. 

Juan made a wry mouth as he looked at the girl in the priest's arms. Then he suggested that a separation would more evenly balance theboat. Carmen laughed up at him, but slipped down into the keel and satwith her head propped against Josè's knees. 

"Padre dear, " she said, looking up at him with twinkling eyes, "Iheard Lázaro say a little while before we started that he had livedmany years in Simití, and that it had always been very quiet until youcame. "

"_Ay de mí!_" sighed Josè. "I can readily believe that the whole worldwas quiet until I entered it. "

"But, Padre, perhaps you had to come into it to shake it up. "

He laughed. "_Chiquita_, " he said, "if ever you go out into it, withyour radical views regarding God and man; and if the stupid old worldwill give ear to you, there will be such a shaking up as it has neverexperienced since--"

"Padre dear, " she interrupted, "I am not going out into the world. Ishall stay in Simití--with you. "

He looked down at her, tenderly, wistfully. And then, while her wordsstill echoed through his mind, a great sigh escaped him. 

Dusk had closed in upon them when the canoe emerged into the quietlake. Huge vampire bats, like demons incarnate, flouted their faces asthey paddled swiftly toward the distant town. Soft evening callsdrifted across the placid waters from the slumbering jungle. Carmen'srich voice mingled with them; and Juan and Lázaro, catching theinspiration, broke into a weird, uncanny boating song, such as isheard only among these simple folk. As they neared the town the songof the _bogas_ changed into a series of loud, yodelling halloos; andwhen the canoe grated upon the shaly beach, Doña Maria and a score ofothers were there to welcome the returned travelers. 

At the sight of Ana, a murmur ran through the crowd. Doña Maria turnedto the woman. 

"It is Anita, madre dear, " Carmen quickly announced, as she struggledout of Doña Maria's arms and took the confused Ana by the hand. 

The light of recognition came into Doña Maria's eyes. Quietly, andwithout demonstration, she went to the shrinking woman and, taking thetear-stained face in her hands, impressed a kiss upon each cheek. "_Bien_, " she said in a low, tender voice, "we have waited long foryou, daughter. And now let us go home. "

 * * * * *

The glow of dawn had scarce begun to creep timidly across the arch ofheaven when Fernando knocked at the portal of Rosendo's house anddemanded the custody of Carmen. Josè was already abroad. 

"And now, Fernando, " demanded the priest, "what new outrage is this?"

The constable flushed with embarrassment. "_Na_, Padre, a thousandpardons--but it is the order of the Alcalde, and I only obey. But--youmay knock me down, " he added eagerly, "and then I can return to himand say that I could not take the girl, even by force!" The honestfellow, ashamed of his mission, hung his head. Josè seized his hand. 

"Fernando!" he cried, "what say the people of Simití?"

"They are with you, Padre. They would demand Rosendo's release, ifthere were proof that the girl--"

"Good, then! we have the proof, " broke in Josè. "Rosendo knows of ourreturn?"

"Yes, the guard informed him this morning. The Alcalde, you know, permits no one to approach the prisoner. "

"And does he know that Ana is here?"

"The guard did not tell him, for fear of exciting the old man. _Hombre!_ I think there is no one in town who would venture to tellRosendo that. "

"_Bien pues_, Fernando, I think the time has come! Go quietly back andsummon every one to a meeting in the town hall at once. Tell them--"

"_Bien_, Padre, I shall know what to tell them. But, " anxiously, "DonMario has the power to--"

"And we have a greater power, " quickly replied the priest, his thoughtdwelling on Carmen. 

An hour later the town hall was a babel of clacking tongues. Men, women and children hurried, chattering, to and fro, exchanging diverseviews and speculating eagerly on the probable outcome of the meeting. Josè stood before them, with Carmen's hand clasped tightly in his. DonMario, purple and trembling with rage, was perched upon a chair, vainly trying to get the ear of the people. 

In the midst of the hubbub a hush fell suddenly over the concourse. All heads turned, and all eyes fastened upon Ana, as she entered theroom and moved timidly toward Josè. The people fell back to make apassage for her. Her shoulders were bent, and her face was coveredwith a black _mantilla_. 

Don Mario, as his glance fell upon her, again attempted to address themultitude. A dozen voices bade him cease. A strong arm from behindpushed him from the chair. His craven heart began to quake, and hecast anxious glances toward the single exit. 

Gently removing the _mantilla_ from the face of the woman, Josè turnedher toward the people. "Friends!" he said in a loud, penetratingvoice, "behold the work of Diego!"

He paused for the effect which he knew would be made upon thisimpressionable people. Then, when the loud murmur had passed, he drewCarmen out before him and, pointing to her, said dramatically, "Andshall we also throw this innocent child to the wolf?"

The assembly broke into a roar. Fists were shaken under the Alcalde'snose, and imprecations were hurled at him from all sides. Don Mariodrew his soiled handkerchief and mopped his steaming brow. Then hisvoice broke out in a shriek: "The soldiers--this day I shall summonthem--it is a riot!"

"_Caramba!_ He speaks truth!" cried a voice from the crowd. The babelcommenced anew. 

"The soldiers! _Caramba!_ Let Diego have his child!"

_"Maldita!"_

"Who says it is not his?"

"I do!"

It was Ana. Clasping Josè's arm to steady herself, she had turned toconfront the excited assembly. 

Silence descended upon them all. Josè held up his hand. A sob escapedthe woman. Then:

"The priest Diego had a child--a girl. Her name--it was--Carmen. Thechild is--dead. "

"_Caramba!_ girl, how know you that?" shrilled a woman's excitedvoice. 

"I know, because I--was--its--mother!"

Pandemonium burst upon the room at the woman's words. Don Mariostarted for the door, but found his way blocked. "Diego had otherchildren!" he shouted; "and this girl is one of them!"

"It is false!" cried Ana in a loud voice. "I have lived with him eightyears! I know from his own lips that I speak the truth! See what hehas done to me! Would I lie?"

"To the _cárcel_! Release Rosendo!"

"We will write to the President at Bogotá! Don Mario must beremoved!"

"_Caramba!_ Such an Alcalde!"

"Let him send for the soldiers, if he wishes to die!"

"To the _cárcel_!"

As a unit the fickle people streamed from the room and started for thejail. Don Mario was borne along on the heaving tide. Josè and Carmenfollowed; but Ana fell back and returned to the house of Rosendo. 

The guard at the jail, seeing the concourse approaching, threw downhis _machete_ and fled. Rosendo's eyes were big with speculation, though his heart beat apprehensively. The people jammed into the smallhut until it swayed and threatened to collapse. 

"The key to the lock--_Caramba_! the guard has it!"

"Catch him!"

"No! bring a _barra_!"

Juan quickly produced a long iron bar, and with a few lusty effortssprung the stocks. A dozen hands lifted the cramped Rosendo out andstood him upon his feet. Carmen squirmed through the crowd and threwherself into his arms. 

Then, with shouts and gesticulations, a triumphal procession quicklyformed, and the bewildered and limping Rosendo was escorted down themain street of the town and across the _plaza_ to his home. At thedoor of the house Josè turned and, holding up a hand, bade the peoplequietly disperse and leave the liberated man to enjoy undisturbed thesacred reunion with his family. With a parting shout, the peoplemelted quickly away, and quiet soon reigned again over the ancienttown. 

"_Bien_, Padre, " said Rosendo, pausing before his door to clasp anewthe priest's hand, "you have not told me what has caused this. Was itthe little Carmen--"

He stopped short. Glancing in at the door, his eyes had fallen uponAna. To Josè, hours seemed suddenly compressed into that tensemoment. 

Slowly Rosendo entered the house and advanced to the shrinking woman. Terror spread over her face, and she clutched her throat as the bigman stalked toward her. Then, like a flash, Carmen darted in front ofher and faced Rosendo. 

"It is Anita, padre dear, " she said, looking up into his set face, andclasping his hand in both of hers. "She has come home again. Aren't weglad!"

Rosendo seemed not to see the child. His voice came cold and harsh. "_Bien_, outcast, is your lover with you, that I may strangle him, too?" He choked and swallowed hard. 

"Padre!" cried Carmen, putting both her hands against him. "See! Thosebad thoughts nearly strangled you! Don't let them get in! Don't!"

"_Bien_, girl!" snarled the angry man, still addressing the coweringwoman. "Did you tire of him, that you now sneak home? Or--_Caramba_!"as Ana rose and stood before him, "you come here that your illegalbrat may be born! Not under my roof! _Santa Maria!_ Never! Take itback to him! Take it back, I say!" he shouted, raising his clenchedfist as if to strike her. 

Carmen turned swiftly and threw herself upon the woman. Looking overher shoulder, she addressed the raging man:

"Padre Rosendo! this is not your house! It is God's! He only lets youhave it, because He is good to you! Shame on you, for daring to driveAnita away--your own little girl!" Her voice rose shrill, and herwords cut deep into the old man's embittered heart. 

"Shame on you, padre Rosendo!" quickly flowed the scorching words. "IfGod were like you He would drive you from the house, too! Are you somuch better than the good Jesus that you can drive away a woman whosins? Shame on you, padre! Are you better than the good father who wasso glad to see his prodigal son? If God were to punish you for yoursins, would He even let you live? Did He not set you free this verymorning? And do you now thank Him by driving your little girl from herown home? Do you know that it was Anita who made you free, and whobrought me here? God used her to do that. And is this the way youthank Him? Then you will lose us both, for we will not stay withyou!"

Josè stepped up and took Rosendo's arm. Carmen turned about andcontinued her scoriation:

"Padre Rosendo, if the good, pure God was willing to use Anita to saveme from Padre Diego and bring me back to you, are you so wicked and soungrateful that you throw His love back in His face? Shame on you, padre! Shame! Shame!"

"_Caramba!_" cried Rosendo, tears bursting from his eyes. "She hasfouled my name--it was a good name, though my parents were slaves--itwas a good name--and she blackened it--she--"

"Padre Rosendo, there are only two names that have never beenblackened! Your human name is nothing--it is zero--it counts forfoolishness with God! You yourself are making your name blacker nowthan Anita ever did! She repents, and comes to her father; and he isso much more wicked than she that he drives her out!--"

"Enough, Carmen, child!" interrupted Josè. "Come, Rosendo; go into theparish house! Carmen, go with him!"

Carmen hesitated. Then a smile lighted up her face, and she reached upand took Rosendo's hand. Together they passed silently out and intothe priest's house. 

Ana sank to the floor, where she buried her face in her hands and weptviolently. 

"Wait, Ana, " said Josè, tenderly stroking the unhappy woman's hair. "Wait. They will soon return. And you shall remain here, where youbelong. "

A half hour passed. Then Josè, wondering, went quietly to the door ofhis house and looked in. Rosendo sat at the table, with Carmen on hisknees. 

"And, padre, " the child was saying, "the good Jesus told the woman notto sin any more; and she went away happy. Padre, God has told Anitanot to sin any more--and she has come to us to be happy. We are goingto make her so, aren't we? Padre Diego couldn't hurt me, you know, forGod wouldn't let him. And he hasn't hurt Anita--God wouldn't let himkeep her--wouldn't let her stay with him. Don't you see, padre? And wehave got to be like Him--we _are_ like Him, really. But now we havegot to show it, to prove it, you know. "

Rosendo's head was bent over the girl. Neither of them saw Josè. Thechild went on with increased animation:

"And, padre dear, God sends us Anita's little baby for us to love andprotect. Oh, padre, if the little one is a boy, can't we call itJosè?"

"Yes, _chiquita_, " Josè heard the old man murmur brokenly. 

"And--padre, if it is a girl--what shall we call it?"

The man's arm tightened about her. "We--we will call it--Carmencita, "he whispered. 

The girl clapped her hands. "Can't you see, padre, that God sends usAnita's baby so that Padre Diego shall not have it? And now let's goand tell her so, right away!" she cried, jumping down. 

Josè slipped quickly back and stood beside the woman when Carmen andRosendo entered the room. The old man went directly to his daughter, and, taking her in his brawny arms, raised her from the floor andstrained her to his breast. Tears streamed down his swart cheeks, andthe words he would utter choked and hung in his throat. 

"Padre, " whispered the delighted child, "shall I tell her our namesfor the baby?"

Josè turned and stole softly from the room. Divine Love was there, andits dazzling effulgence blinded him. In the quiet of his own chamberhe sought to understand the marvelous goodness of God to them thatserve Him. 

CHAPTER 27

The reversal of a life-current is not always effected suddenly, noramid the din of stirring events, nor yet in an environment that weourselves might choose as an appropriate setting. It comes in thefullness of time, and amid such scenes as the human mind whichundergoes the transformation may see externalized within its ownconsciousness by the working of the as yet dimly perceived laws ofthought. 

Perhaps some one, skilled in the discernment of mental laws and theirsubtle, irresistible working, might have predicted the fate whichovertook the man Josè, the fulsome details of which are herein beingrecounted. Perhaps such a one might say in retrospect that theculmination of years of wrong thinking, of false beliefs closelycherished, of attachment to fear, to doubt, and to wrong concepts ofGod, had been externalized at length in eddying the man upon this farverge of civilization, still clinging feebly to the tattered fragmentsof a blasted life. But it would have been a skilled prognostician, indeed, who could have foreseen the renewal of this wasted life inthat of the young girl, to whom during the past four years Josè deRincón had been transferring his own unrealized hopes and his vastlearning, but without the dross of inherited or attached beliefs, andwithout taint of his native vacillation and indecision of mind. 

For what he had been striving to fit her, he knew not. But in avaguely outlined way he knew that he was being used as a tool to shapein some degree the mental development of this strange girl. Nor, indeed, as the years passed, did she continue to seem so strange tohim. On the contrary, he now thought it more marvelous by far that theworld, after nineteen centuries of Christianity, did not think and actmore as did this girl, whose religious instruction he knew to havebeen garnered at the invisible hand of God. That she must some dayleave him, despite her present earnest protestations, he felt to beinevitable. And the thought pierced his soul like a lance. But hecould not be certain that with maturity she would wish to remainalways in the primitive environment in which she had been nurtured. Nor could he, even if she were willing, immolate her upon the barb ofhis own selfishness. 

As for himself, the years had but seemed to increase the convictionthat he could never leave the Church, despite his anomalous positionand despite his renewed life--unless, indeed, she herself cast himforth. Each tenderly hopeful letter from his proud, doting mother onlyadded to this conviction by emphasizing the obstacles opposing such acourse. Her declining years were now spent among the mental pictureswhich she hourly drew upon the canvas of her imagination, pictures inwhich her beloved son, chastened and purified, had at length come intothe preferment which had always awaited loyal scions of the house ofRincón. Hourly she saw the day draw nearer when he should be restoredto her yearning arms. Each dawn threw its first rays upon hisportrait, which hung where her waking eyes might open upon it. Eachnight the shadow cast by the candle which always burned beneath itseemed to her eager sight to crown that fair head with a bishop'smitre--a cardinal's hat--aye, at times she even saw the triple crownof the Vicar of Christ resting upon those raven locks. Josè knew this. If her own pen did not always correctly delineate her towering hopes, his astute uncle did not fail to fill in whatever hiatus remained. Andthe pressure of filial devotion and pride of race at times completelysmothered within him the voice of Truth which Carmen continuallysounded, and made him resolve often that on the day when she shouldleave him he would bury his head in the lap of Mother Church andsubmit without further resistance to the sable veil of assumedauthority which he knew she would draw across his mind. Convincing aswere the proofs which had come to him of the existence of a greatdemonstrable principle which the Christ had sought to make a dullworld recognize, nevertheless he had as yet failed to rise permanentlyabove the mesmerism of human belief, which whispered into hisstraining ears that he must not strive to progress beyond hisunderstanding, lest, in the attempt to gain too rapidly, he lose all. To sink into the arms of Mother Church and await the orderlyrevelation of Truth were less dangerous now than a precipitateseverance of all ties and a launching forth into strange seas with anuntried compass. 

The arguments to which he listened were insidious. True, theyreasoned, he had seemed to see the working of mental law in his ownrestoration to health when he had first come to Simití. He had seemedto see Rosendo likewise restored. But these instances, after all, might have been casual. That Carmen had had aught to do with them, noone could positively affirm. True, he had seen her protected incertain unmistakable ways. But--others were likewise protected, evenwhere there had been no thought of an immanent, sheltering God. True, the incident of the epidemic in Simití two years before had impressedupon him the serious consequences of fear, and the blighting resultsof false belief. He had profited by that lesson. But he could not hopesuddenly to empty his mentality of its content of human thought; nordid wisdom advise the attempt. He had at first tried to rise toorapidly. His frequent backsliding frightened and warned him. 

Thus, while the days sped by, did the priest's thought ebb and flow. As morn broke, and the gallant sun drove the cowardly shadows of nightacross the hills, his own courage rose, and he saw in Carmen the purereflection of the Mind which was in Christ Jesus. As night fell, anddarkness slunk back again and held the field, so returned the legionof fears and doubts that battled for his soul. Back and forth in thearena of his consciousness strove the combatants, while he rushedirresolutely to and fro, now bearing the banner of the powers oflight, now waving aloft, though with sinking heart, the black flag ofthe carnal host. For a while after his arrival in Simití he had seemedto rise rapidly into the consciousness of good as all-in-all. But thestrain which had been constantly upon him had prevented the fullrecognition of all that Carmen saw, and each rise was followed by afall that left him for long periods immersed in despair. 

Following the return of Carmen and the ripple of excitement which herabduction had spread over the wonted calm of Simití, the old townsettled back again into its accustomed lethargy, and Josè and the girlresumed their interrupted work. From Ana it was learned that Diego hadnot voiced the command of Wenceslas in demanding the girl; and whenthis became known the people rose in a body to her support. Don Mario, though he threatened loudly, knew in his heart he was beaten. He knew, likewise, that any further hostile move on his part would result in ademand by the people for his removal from office. He therefore retiredsulking to the seclusion of his _patio_, where he sat down patientlyto await the turn of events. 

Rosendo, his great heart softened toward his erring daughter, againrejoiced in the reunion of his broken family circle. But his soulburned within him as, day after day, he saw Ana move silently aboutlike a sorrow incarnate. At times, when perchance he would come uponher huddled in a corner and weeping quietly, he would turn away, cursing deeply and swearing fulsome vengeance upon the lecherous beastwho had wrought her ruin. 

"Padre, " he one day said to Josè, "I shall kill him--I know it. Thegirl's suffering is breaking my heart. He is like an evil cloudhanging always over my family. I hate him! I hate him, as the devilhates the light! And I shall kill him. Be prepared. " And Josè offeredno remonstrance, for the case lay not in his hands. 

Carmen again entered upon her interrupted studies with ardententhusiasm. And her first demand was that she be allowed to plungeinto a searching study of the Bible. "Padre, " she exclaimed, "it is awonderful book! Why--do the people in the world know what a book thisis? For if they did, they would never be sick or unhappy again!"

He knew not how to answer her. And there was no need that he should. 

"Padre!" Her eyes were aflame with holy light. "See! Here it is--thewhole thing! 'Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous manhis _thoughts_. ' But--don't the people know what that means?"

"Well, _chiquita_, and what does it mean?" he asked indulgently. 

"Why--the unrighteous man is the man who thinks wrong thoughts--thoughtsof power opposed to God--thoughts of sin, of sickness, of accidents, and all sorts of evil things--beliefs that these things are real, andthat God made or caused them!"

"_Bien_, and you think the Bible speaks truth?"

"Padre! how can you ask that? Why, it says right here that it is givenby inspiration! That means that the men or women who wrote it thoughtGod's thoughts!"

"That He wrote it, you mean?"

"No, but that those who wrote it were--well, were cleaner window-panesthan other people--that they were so clean that the light shonethrough them better than it did through others. "

"And what do you think now about Jesus?" he inquired. 

"Why, as you once said, that he was the very cleanest window-pane ofall!" she quickly replied. 

From that hour the Bible was the girl's constant companion. Daily shepored over it, delighted, enraptured. Josè marveled at her immediatespiritual grasp. Instead of the world's manner of looking upon it asonly a collection of beautiful promises and admonitions, she sawwithin it the statement of a principle that offered itself as a mightytool with which to work out humanity's every-day problems here andnow. From the first she began to make out little lists of collatedscriptural verses, so arranging them that she could read in them acomplete expression of an idea of God. These she would bring to Josèand, perching herself upon his lap, would expound them, to her owngreat delight and the wonder of the man who listened. 

"See, Padre, " she said, holding up one of these lists, "it says that'in that day' whatever we ask of him will be given to us. Well, 'thatday' means when we have washed our window-panes clean, and the lightshines through so clear that we can ask in His name. It means when wehave stopped saying that two and two are seven. "

"Which means, " Josè interpolated, "asking in his character. "

"Yes, " she replied, "for then we will be just like him. And thenwhatever we ask 'believing' will be given to us, for believing'will then be 'understanding, ' will it not? When we know--really_know_--that we have things, why--why, we have them, that's all!"

She did not wait for his reply, but went on enthusiastically:

"You know, Padre, in order to be like him we have got to 'seek firstthe kingdom of God and His righteousness'--His right-thinking. Well, Jesus said the kingdom of God was within us. Of course it is, for itis all a question of right-thinking. When we think right, then ourright thoughts will be--what you said--"

"Externalized, " he supplied. 

"Yes. We will see them all around us, instead of seeing, as we do now, a lot of jumbled-up thoughts of good and evil which we call people andthings. They will all be good then. And then will be the time when'God shall wipe away all tears. ' It is, as you say in English, 'up tous' to bring this about. It is not for God to do it at all. Don't yousee that He has already done His part? He has made everything, and'behold it was very good. ' Well, He doesn't have to do it all overagain, does He? No. But we have got to wash our windows clean and letin the light that comes from Him. That light comes from Him all thetime, just as the beams come from the sun, without ever stopping. Wenever have to ask the sun to shine, do we? And neither do we have toask God to be good to us, nor tell Him what we think He ought to dofor us. We only have to _know_ that He is good, to us and toeverything, all the time. "

"Yes, _chiquita_, we must be truly baptised. "

"That is what it means to be baptised, Padre--just washing ourwindow-panes so clean that the light will come in. "

"And that light, little one, is truth. It certainly is a new way oflooking at it, at least, _chiquita_. "

"But, Padre, it is the _only_ way, " she persisted. 

"_Bien_, I would not say that you were mistaken, Carmen. "

"No, Padre, for we can prove it. And, look here, " she continued, referring to her list. "If the kingdom of heaven is within us, theneverything that comes to us in life comes from within, and not fromwithout. And so, things never happen, do they? Don't you see?"

"I see, " he replied seriously, "that from the mouths of babes andsucklings comes infinite wisdom. "

"Well, Padre dear, wisdom is God's light, and it comes through any onewho is clean. It doesn't make any difference how old or young thatperson is. Years mean nothing but--but zero. "

"How can you say that, _chiquita_?"

"Why, Padre, is God old?"

"No. He is always the same. "

"And we are really like Him?"

"The real 'we'--yes. "

"Well, the unreal 'we' is already zero. Didn't you yourself say thatthe human, mortal man was a product of false thought, thought that wasthe opposite of God's thought, and so no thought at all? Didn't yousay that such thought was illusion--the lie about God and what He hasmade? Then isn't the human 'we' zero?"

"Well--but--_chiquita_, it is often hard for me to see anything butthis sort of 'we, '" returned the man dejectedly. 

"Oh, Padre!" she entreated, "why will you not try to look at somethingelse than the human man? Look at God's man, the image of infinitemind. You have _got_ to do it, you know, some time. Jesus said so. Hesaid that every man would have to overcome. That means turning awayfrom the thoughts that are externalized as sin and sickness and evil, and looking only at God's thoughts--and, what is more, _sticking tothem_!"

"Yes, " dubiously, "I suppose we must some time overcome every beliefin anything opposed to God. "

"Well, but need that make you unhappy? It is just because you stillcling to the belief that there is other power than God that you get sodiscouraged and mixed up. Can't you let go? Try it! Why, I would tryit even if a whole mountain fell on me!"

And Josè could but clasp the earnest girl in his arms and vow that hewould try again as never before. 

 * * * * *

Meantime, while Josè and his little student-teacher were delving intothe inexhaustible treasury of the Word; while the peaceful days cameinto their lives and went out again almost unperceived, the priestDiego left the bed upon which he had been stretched for many weeks, and hobbled painfully about upon his scarcely mended ankle. While aprisoner upon his couch his days had been filled with torture. Try ashe might, he could not beat down the vision which constantly rosebefore him, that of the beautiful girl who had been all but his. Hecursed; he raved; he vowed the foulest vengeance. And then he criedpiteously, as he lay chained to his bed--cried for something thatseemed to take human shape in her. He protested that he loved her;that he adored her; that without her he was but a blasted cedar. Hisnurses fled his bedside. His physician stopped his ears. Only DonAntonio was found low enough in thought to withstand the flow of foullanguage which issued from the baffled Diego's thick lips while hemoved about in attendance upon the unhappy priest's needs. 

Then came from the acting-Bishop, Wenceslas, a mandate commissioningDiego upon a religio-political mission to the interior city ofMedellin. The now recovered priest smiled grimly when he read it. Thenhe summoned Ricardo. 

"Prepare yourself, _amigo_, " he said, "for a work of the Lord. I gointo the interior. You accompany me as far as Badillo, where wedisembark for stinking Simití. And, _amigo_, do you secure atrustworthy companion. The work may be heavy. Meantime, my blessingand absolution. "

Then he sat down and despatched a long letter to Don Mario. 

CHAPTER 28

"Rosendo, " said Josè one morning shortly thereafter, as the old manentered the parish house for a little chat, "a Decree has been issuedrecently by the Sacred Congregation of the Holy Office whereby, instead of the cloth scapulary which you are wearing, a medal may besubstituted. I have received several from Cartagena. Will you exchangeyours?"

"_Cierto_, Padre--but, " he hesitated, "is the new one just as--"

"To be sure, _amigo_. It carries the same indulgences. See, "exhibiting the medal. "The Sacred Heart and the blessed Virgin. But Ihave arranged it to wear about the neck. "

Rosendo knelt reverently and crossed himself while Josè hung the newscapulary over his head. The old man beamed his joy. "_Caramba!_" heexclaimed, rising, "but I believe this one will keep off more devilsthan that old cloth thing you made for me!"

"Why, Rosendo!" admonished Josè, repressing a smile, "did I not blessthat one before the altar?"

"_Cierto_, Padre, and I beg a thousand pardons. It was the blessing, wasn't it? Not the cloth. But this one, " regarding it reverently, "this one--"

"Oh, yes, this one, " put in Josè, "carries the blessing of His Grace, acting-Bishop Wenceslas. "

"And a Bishop is always very holy, is he not, Padre?" queried Rosendo. "It makes no difference who he is, for the office makes him holy, isit not so, Padre?"

"Oh, without doubt, " returned Josè, his thought reverting to thelittle Maria and the babe which for four years he had been supportingin distant Cartagena. 

"_Na_, Padre, " remonstrated Rosendo, catching the insinuation, "wemust not speak ill of the Bishop, lest he be a Saint to-morrow! But, Padre, " he went on, changing the topic, "I came to tell you that DonLuis has given me a contract to cut wood for him on the island. Aquantity, too. _Hombre!_ I shall earn much money by its terms. I setout to-morrow morning before daybreak. "

Josè reflected. The man's words aroused within him a faint suspicion. Don Luis and the Alcalde were boon companions. Josè wondered if inthis commission he could see the gloved hand of Don Mario. But he gaveno hint of his thought to Rosendo. 

The next morning, long before sun-up, a mist lay thick over thevalley, so thick that Rosendo, as he made his way down to the lake, scarce could distinguish the road ahead of him. The dry season hadpassed, and the rains were now setting in. As he hurried along, theold man mused dubiously on the contract which Don Luis had made withhim. To cut wood in the rainy season!--but, after all, that was noconcern of his. And yet--why had Padre Josè grown suddenly quiet whenhe learned of the contract yesterday? His bare feet fell softly uponthe shales, and he proceeded more cautiously as he neared the water'sedge. 

"_Hombre!_" he muttered, striving to penetrate the mist; "only a_loco_ ventures out on the lake in such weather!"

He reached the boat, and placed in it the rope and axe which he hadbrought. Then, still troubled in thought, he sat down on the edge ofthe canoe and dropped into a puzzled meditation. 

Suddenly through the fog he heard a sound. Somebody was approaching. Afisherman, perhaps. But fishermen do not go out on the lake in densefogs, he remembered. The tread sounded nearer. He waited, speculating. Then through the mist loomed the thick body of a man. Straining hiseyes, Rosendo recognized Padre Diego. 

With a bound the old man was upon his feet. His thick arm shot outlike a catapult; and his great fist, meeting Diego squarely upon thetemple, felled him like an ox. 

For a moment Rosendo stood over the prostrate priest, like a lionabove its prey. Then he reached into the canoe and drew out the axe. Holding it aloft, he stood an instant poised above the senseless man;then with a mighty swing he whirled about and hurled it far out intothe lake. He seemed suddenly bereft of his senses. Incoherentmuttering issued from his trembling lips. He looked about inbewilderment. A thought seemed to impress him. He took the rope fromthe boat and quickly bound Diego hand and foot. This done, he pickedup the unconscious priest and tossed him into the canoe as if he hadbeen a billet of wood. Jumping in after him, he hastily pushed offfrom the shore and paddled vigorously in the direction of the island. Why he was doing this he had not the faintest idea. 

It was all the work of a few seconds; yet when his reason came againRosendo found himself far out in the thick fog, and his prisonermoaning softly as consciousness slowly returned. The sense ofdirection which these sons of the jungle possess is almost infallible, and despite the watery cloud which enveloped him, the old man held hiscourse undeviatingly toward the distant isle, into the low, muddyshore of which his boat at length forced its way under the impulse ofhis great arms. 

The island, a low patch a few acres in extent, lay far out in the lakelike a splotch of green paint on a plate of glass. Its densely woodedsurface, rising soft and oozy only a few feet above the water, wasdestitute of human habitation, but afforded a paradise for swarms ofcrawling and flying creatures, which now scattered in alarm at theapproach of these early visitors coming so unexpectedly out of theheavy fog. 

When the canoe grounded, Rosendo sprang out and pulled it well up intothe mud. Then he lifted the priest out and staggered into the thickbrush, where he threw his burden heavily upon the ground. Leaving hisprisoner for a moment, he seized his _machete_ and began to cut backinto the brush. A grunt of satisfaction came from his lips. Returningto the now conscious Diego, he grasped the rope which bound him anddragged him along the newly opened trail into a little clearing whichlay beyond. There he propped him up against a huge cedar. As he didthis, Diego's mouth opened wide and a piercing scream issued. "Ricardo--help!" he called. 

The cry echoed dismally across the desolate island. In an instantRosendo was upon him, with his knife clutched in his fist. "Repeatthat, _cayman_, " he cried furiously, "and this finds your wickedheart!"

The craven Diego shook with fear; but he fell silent before the threatof the desperate man into whose hands he had so unwittingly fallen. 

Rosendo stepped back and stood before his captive, regarding himuncertainly. Diego's quick intuition did not fail to read the oldman's perplexity; and his own hope revived accordingly. It was apretty trick, this of Rosendo's--but, after all, he would not dare toomuch. Diego gradually became easier in mind. He even smiled unctuouslyat his captor. 

"_Bien, amigo_, " he said at length, "is this your customary receptionto visitors in your village? _Caramba!_ but what will the good Bishopsay when he learns that you have thus mistreated his trusted agent?"

Rosendo stood before him like a statue. His thought was confused, andit moved slowly. In the cries of the disturbed birds he seemed now tohear the warning voice of Carmen. In the watery vapor that rolled overhim he seemed to feel the touch of her soft, restraining hand. 

"_Bien, compadre_, " purred Diego, "would it not be well for you toloosen this bit of thread, that we may make our way back to thevillage? _Caramba!_ but it cuts sore--and I am soft, my friend, for Ihave been ill. "

Rosendo's wrath flared up anew. "What made you ill, _cayman_?" heshouted, drawing nearer to the shrinking Diego and shaking a greatfist in his face. "What made you ill, buzzard? _Caramba!_ I would thatyour illness had carried you off and saved me the task of sending youdown to purgatory!"

Diego became thoroughly alarmed again. "But--Rosendo--_caro amigo_, let us reason together! Ah, _compadre_--loosen but a little this ropewhich cuts into my tender skin as your bitter words do into my soul!"

"_Na_, vulture, but you will drown more quickly thus!" retortedRosendo, his huge frame trembling with agitation. 

Diego's heart stopped. Then he sought to collect himself. He wasin a desperate plight. But the man before him was an ignorant _peon_. It was not the first time that he had set his own wit againstanother's brute strength. The ever-present memory of the girlbecame more vivid. It glowed before him. What was it she had said?"You see only your thoughts of me--and they are very bad!" Was heseeing now only his own bad thoughts? But she had said they wereunreal. And this episode--_Hombre!_ he would not be afraid. Histhought was vastly more powerful than that of a simple _peon_! Hesmiled again at his fear. 

"But, _amigo_, " he resumed gently, "if you had wished to drown me, whydid you bring me here? But--ah, well, I have long been prepared to go. I have been sadly misunderstood--disbelieved--persecuted! Ah, friendRosendo, if you could know what I do--but--_Bien_, it is of noconsequence now. Come, then, good fellow, despatch me quickly! I havemade my peace with God. " Diego ceased talking and began to murmurprayers. 

Rosendo stared at him in amazement. The wind was being taken from hissails. Diego noted the effect, and resumed his speech. His voice waslow and soft, and at times great tears rolled down his cheeks. 

"Rosendo, friend, I wish to go. I weary of life. There is no stainupon my soul. And yet, I grieve that you must tarnish yours with myblood. But, " his eyes brightening and his tone becoming moreanimated, "Rosendo, I will pray the blessed Virgin for you. When I amwith her in paradise I will ask her to beg the gentle Saviour toforgive you. _Bien_, good friend, we shall all be together in heavensome day. " He started his orisons again, and soon was praying like alocomotive: "_Ora pro nobis! Santa Maria, ora pro nobis!_"

He stopped and sighed gently. Rosendo stood stupidly before him. 

"Rosendo--I must say this before I die--I came to Simití to see you. Iwas approaching the boat to hold converse with you. But, you struckme--there, _qué importa_! And yet--it was about the gentle Ana, yourbeautiful daughter--But, wait, Rosendo--God above! hear me through--"

Rosendo had started again toward him. 

"Good friend, hear me first, then kill me quickly, for I much desireto go to my home above!" Diego spoke rapidly. The impression must bemade upon Rosendo at once, or all was lost. The wily priest knew the_peon_ mind. 

"_Bien_, good friend, you have misunderstood me. But I forgive you. I--Rosendo--I--you will keep my secret, will you not? Bien, I haveleft the Church. I am no longer a priest. It was for good reasons thatGod took me from the priesthood for other work in His field. _Bien_, the bonds of celibacy removed, behold! my first thought is for mybeautiful Ana. I came to ask you for her hand. I would renderlegitimate her unborn child. I would return to her the peace which shelost when we became so deeply enamored of each other. Rosendo, I havecome to Simití to lay my life before you--to yield it to the mother ofmy child--to offer it in future service as a recompense for theunhappiness which, the Virgin knows, I did not willingly bring uponher, or you!"

Rosendo's head was now in a whirl. His eyes protruded, and his mouthwas agape. "But--the little Carmen--" he muttered. 

"Alas! friend, " said Diego sadly, shaking his head, while he quicklygrasped the cue, "I have ceased my endeavors to make you believe thatshe is my child. _Caramba!_ I can only leave it to the blessed Virginto restore her to me when we have both passed the portals of death. "

"You still claim to be her father? You--!"

"_Caro amigo_, " returned Diego gently, "in these last moments I see inher the beautiful image of her blessed mother, who was taken from melong before I met and loved your Ana. But I despair of enforcing myclaim. I await now the reunion which death alone can effect. And so, friend, be quick! But do not make me suffer. Drown me not, I pray you, but rather open an artery and let me fall gently asleep here beneaththis noble tree. "

A light came into Rosendo's troubled eyes. A cunning smile lurkedabout his mouth. 

"_Bien pues_, it shall be as you wish, vulture, " he replied in a tonewhich again struck terror to Diego's heart. He drew his knife andapproached the horrified priest. 

"_Caramba!_" shrieked Diego, shrinking back against the tree. "_Hombre!_ you do not intend--"

"Why not, vampire?" returned Rosendo, the sardonic smile spreadingacross his grim features. "Did you not ask it?"

"But--_Hombre_! Back!--_Caramba_! Back!--Rosendo--God above! But wouldyou go down to hell with murder on your soul?"

"_Cierto_, carrion! I kill the body. But you go down with a load ofmurdered souls!"

"Rosendo--God!--it means hell for eternity to you!"

"To be sure, dog-meat, " calmly replied Rosendo. "But hell will beheaven to me as I sit forever and hourly remind you of the sufferingAna and the beautiful Carmen, whom you tried to ruin! Is it not so?"

"Ah, God!" Diego saw that he had lost. Wild thoughts flashed throughhis mind with lightning speed. Desperation lent them wings. A lastexpedient came to him. He fixed his beady eyes upon Rosendo andmuttered: "Coward! coward! you bind a sick man and stick him like apig!"

Rosendo hesitated. Diego quickly followed up his slight advantage. 

"We give a deer, a tapir, a jaguar, a chance for its life. We fearthem not. But you--coward, you are afraid of a sick man! And apriest!"

Rosendo could bear the taunt no longer. "_Caramba!_" he cried, "whatwould you?" He leaped to the sitting man and at a stroke severed hisbonds. Diego got slowly to his feet. 

"_Bien_, spew of the vampire! you have now a chance!"

Diego extended his empty hands, palms up. He smiled significantly. Rosendo caught the insinuation. 

"_Caramba!_ take the knife! _Hombre!_ but I will kill you with my barehands!" He threw the long knife to Diego, who stooped and picked itup. 

Stepping quickly back, holding the weapon firmly clenched before him, the priest slowly circled Rosendo, as if looking for an opening. Anevil smile played constantly over his heavy face, and his little eyesglittered like diamonds. Rosendo stood like a rock, his long armshanging at his side. 

Then, with a shrill, taunting laugh, Diego turned suddenly andplunged into the newly-cut trail toward the lake. In an instant he waslost in the fog. 

For a moment Rosendo stood dumb with amazement. Then he sprang afterthe priest. But it was too late. Diego had reached the canoe, leapedquickly in, and pushed off. Rosendo saw the mist swallow him. He wasleft a prisoner, without a boat, and with two miles of shrouded waterstretching between him and the town!

A low moan burst from him. He had been tricked, outwitted; and theevil genius which for years had menaced his happiness was headingstraight toward the town, where his accomplice, Ricardo, awaited. Whatwould they do, now that he was out of the way? The thought seared hisbrain. Great beads of water, distilled from his agony, burst throughhis pores. The Juncal river lay off to the west, and at a much lessdistance than Simití. He might swim to it and secure a canoe at thevillage. But--the lake was alive with crocodiles!

Chagrin and apprehension overwhelmed him, and he burst into a flood ofbitter tears. He threw himself upon the ground, and tossed and moanedin despair. The fog thickened. A twilight darkness settled over thewaters. Nature--God himself--seemed to conspire with Diego. 

Rosendo suddenly rose to his feet. He drew the new medal scapularyaround in front of him and kissed it, reverently crossing himself. "_Santa Virgen_, " he prayed, "help me--it is for the child!" Then, taking between his teeth the knife which Diego had dropped, he rushedinto the water and struck out for the distant village of Juncal. 

 * * * * *

Late that afternoon, while the tropical rain was descending intorrents, Rosendo staggered into the parish house, where Carmen andJosè were absorbed in their work. "Padre!" he gasped, "_Loado seaDios!_" as his eyes fell upon the girl. Then he sank to the floor inutter exhaustion. 

"Rosendo! what is it?" cried Josè, bending over him in apprehension, while Carmen stood lost in wonder. 

"Padre Diego--!" cried Rosendo, raising himself up on his elbow. "Hashe been here?"

"Padre Diego!" cried both Josè and the girl in astonishment. Instinctively Josè's arm went about the child. Rosendo dragged himselfto a chair and sank limply into it. 

"Then, Padre, he will come. He is in Simití. He is no longer apriest!"

Slowly the story came out, bit by bit. Josè listened in horror. Carmen's face was deeply serious. 

"_Bien_, Padre, " said Rosendo, concluding his dramatic anddisconnected recital, "I plowed through the water--_Caramba!_ I knewnot at what moment I should feel the jaws of a cayman seize upon me!But the Virgin had heard my prayer. I must offer a candle this night. But I did not land at Juncal. It was some half league farther west. _Bien_, I was then glad, for had I appeared in the village, all wouldhave said that I had murdered Diego! And so I struck out along thetrail that skirts the lake, and followed it around until I came here. _Caramba_! but see how my feet are cut! And the rain--H_ombre_! itbeat me down--I fell again and again! And then, the fear that I wastoo late--_Ah, Dios_! But she is safe--_Caramba_! the Virgin bepraised!"

"But, Rosendo, " said Josè anxiously, "where can Diego--"

"He is here, _Caramba_! in Simití! _Hombre_! but I shall set out atonce and search every house! And he shall do well if he escape thistime!"

But dusk was falling; and the old man, his strength sapped, listenednot unwillingly to Josè's better counsel. With the coming of night therain ceased, and the clouds rolled up and slipped down behind themountains, leaving the moon riding in splendor across the infiniteblue. Then Josè, leaving Carmen with Rosendo, walked to and frothrough the streets of the old town, listening and watching. Hewandered down to the lake. He climbed the hill where stood the secondchurch. He thought he caught the gleam of a light within the oldedifice. He crept nearer. There were men inside. Their voices soundedghostly to his straining ears. 

"But, friend Ricardo, he set out before dawn, and is not yet returned. I fear he has either abandoned us, or has walked into our goodRosendo's jaws. "

"Hold your tongue, bleating calf!" cried the other petulantly. "It ismore likely that he and Don Mario lie pickled in rum under the palmsof the Alcalde's _patio_!"

Josè waited to hear no more. He hurried down through the main streetand past the house of Don Mario. The door stood open, and he could seethe portly figure of the official outlined against the back wall. Itwas evident that Diego was not there. He returned in perplexity to hishouse and sat far into the night, musing on the strange incident. 

With the coming of the new day Rosendo appeared with fresh suggestions. "_Bien_, Padre, " he said, "there is nothing to do now but take the girland flee to the Boque river and to the _hacienda_ of Don Nicolás. "

Josè related his experience of the previous night. Rosendo whistledsoftly. "_Caramba!_" he muttered, "but this is a mystery! And--buthere comes Juan. "

The lad entered excitedly. "Your canoe, Don Rosendo--as I started outon the lake to fish I saw it, far in the distance. I brought it in. There was neither pole nor paddle in it. And it was half full ofwater. It must have drifted all night. Did it break away from itsmooring, think you?"

Rosendo looked at Josè. The latter replied quickly: "That is the mostreasonable supposition, Juan. But Rosendo is very grateful to you forsecuring it again. "

When the lad had gone, Rosendo sat with bowed head, deeply perplexed. 

"The pole and paddle, Padre, were left on the island. I took them outwhen we landed. Diego pushed off without them. He--the boat--it musthave drifted long. But--did he land? Or--"

He stopped and scratched his head. "Padre, " he said, looking upsuddenly with an expression of awe upon his face, "do you suppose--doyou think that the Virgin--that she--made him fall from the canoe intothe lake--and that a _cayman_ ate him? _Ca-ram-ba!_"

Josè did not vouchsafe a reply. But his heart leaped with a greathope. Rosendo, wrapped in profound meditation, wandered back to hishouse, his head bent, and his hands clasped tightly behind his back. 

CHAPTER 29

The rainy season dragged its reeking length through the Simití valleywith fearful deliberation. Josè thought that he should never again seethe sun. The lake steamed like a cauldron. Great clouds of heavy vaporrolled incessantly upward from the dripping jungle. The rain fell incloud-bursts, and the narrow streets of the old town ran like streamsin a freshet. 

Then, one day, Rosendo abruptly announced, "Padre, the rains arebreaking. The dry season is at hand. And the little Carmen is fourteenyears old to-day. "

It gave the priest a shock. He had been six years in Simití! AndCarmen was no longer a child. Youth ripens quickly into maturity inthese tropic lands. The past year had sped like a meteor across anevening sky, leaving a train of mingled light and darkness. Of Diego'sfate Josè had learned nothing. Ricardo and his companion haddisappeared without causing even a ripple of comment in Simití. DonMario remained quiet for many weeks. But he often eyed Josè andRosendo malignantly through the wooden grill at his window, and oncehe ordered Fernando to stop Rosendo and ply him with many and pointedquestions. The old man was noncommittal, but he left a dark suspicion, which was transmitted to the receptive mind of the Alcalde. Acting-Bishop Wenceslas likewise was growing apprehensive as the weekswent by, and both Josè and Don Mario were the recipients of letters ofinquiry from him regarding the whereabouts of the priest Diego. In thecourse of time came other letters from Cartagena, and at length anorder for a most scrutinizing search to be made for the Bishop'sconfidential agent. 

It was of no avail. Rosendo's oft-repeated testimony revealed nothing. The citizens of Simití had not seen the man. The Alcalde had nothingbut his suspicions to offer. And these might have fallen harmlesslyupon the acting-Bishop's well occupied thought, had it not been forthe complicating influence of certain other events. The first of thesewas the exhaustion of the gold which Josè and Carmen had discovered inthe old church. The other was the outbreak of the religio-politicalrevolution which Diego had predicted some six years before, and which, in these latter days, Don Jorge, on his infrequent journeys throughSimití had repeatedly announced as inevitable and imminent. Theircombined effect was such as to wrest Carmen away from Josè, and to setin a new direction the currents of their lives. 

For some time past Josè had patched with growing anxiety theshrinking of his gold supply, and had striven to lessen the monthlycontributions to Cartagena, meanwhile trying to know that the neednow looming daily larger before him would be met. He had not voicedhis apprehension to Carmen. But he and Rosendo had discussed thesituation long and earnestly, and had at length resolved that thelatter should again return to Guamocó to wash the Tiguí sands. 

The old man sighed, but he uttered no protest. Yet each day Josèthought he grew quieter. And each day, too, he seemed to become moretender of his sad-faced daughter, Ana, and of the little grandson whohad come into his humble home only a few weeks before. He delayed hispreparations for specious reasons which Josè knew cost him much effortto invent. He clung to Carmen. He told his rosary often before thechurch altar, and with tears in his eyes. And at night he would cometo Josè and beg him to read from the Bible and explain what he thoughtthe Saviour had really meant to convey to the humble fishermen ofGalilee. 

Josè's heart was wrung. But at last the day arrived when he hadnothing to send to Cartagena beyond the mere pittance which the poormembers of his little parish contributed. But this he sent as usual. The next month he did the same. Then came a letter from Wenceslas, requesting an explanation. And then it was that Josè realized that inhis excess of zeal he had fallen into his own trap. For, havingestablished the custom of remitting a certain amount to the Bishopeach month, he must not resent now the implication of dishonesty whenthe remittances fell off, or ceased altogether. He took the letter toRosendo. "_Bien_, Padre, " said the latter slowly, "the time has come. I set out for Guamocó at dawn. "

In the days that followed, Josè could frame no satisfactory reply toWenceslas, and so the latter wrote to the Alcalde. Don Mario eagerlyseized the proffered opportunity to ingratiate himself intoecclesiastical favor. Rosendo was again in the hills, he wrote, andwith supplies not purchased from him. Nor had he been given even ahint of Rosendo's mission, whether it be to search again for LaLibertad, or not. There could be no doubt, he explained in greatdetail, of Josè's connivance with Rosendo, and of his unauthorizedconduct in the matter of educating the girl, Carmen, who, he made nodoubt, was the daughter of Padre Diego--now, alas! probably cold indeath at the violent hands of the girl's foster-father, and with thepriest Josè's full approbation. The letter cost the portly Don Mariomany a day of arduous labor; but it brought its reward in anotherinquiry from Cartagena, and this time a request for specific detailsregarding Carmen. 

Don Mario bestrode the clouds. He dropped his customary well-oiledmanner, and carried his head with the air of a conqueror. His thicklips became regnant, imperious. He treated his compatriots withsupercilious disdain. And to Josè he would scarce vouchsafe even acold nod as they passed in the street. Again he penned a long missiveto Cartagena, in which he dilated at wearisome length upon theextraordinary beauty of the girl, as well as her unusual mentalqualities. He urged immediate action, and suggested that Carmen besent to the convent in Mompox. 

 * * * * *

Wenceslas mused long over the Alcalde's letters. Many times he smiledas he read. Then he sent for a young clerical agent of the See, whowas starting on a mission to Bogotá, and requested that he stop off aday at Badillo and go to Simití to report on conditions in thatparish. Incidentally, also, to gather what data he might as to thefamily of one Rosendo Ariza. 

In due course of time the agent made his report. The parish of Simitístood in need of a new _Cura_, he said. And the girl--he found nowords to describe or explain her. She must be seen. The Church hadneed of prompt action, however, to secure her. To that end, he advisedher immediate removal to Cartagena. 

Again Wenceslas deliberated. Aside from the girl, to whom he found histhought reverting oftener than he could wish in that particular hourof stress, his interest in Simití did not extend beyond itspossibilities as a further contributor to the funds he was so greatlyneeding for the furtherance of his complex political plans. As to theAlcalde--here was a possibility of another sort. That fellow mightbecome useful. He should be cultivated. And at the same time warnedagainst precipitate action, lest he scatter Rosendo's family intoflight, and the graceful bird now dwelling in the rude nest escape thesharp talons awaiting her. 

He called for his secretary. "Send a message to Francisco, our Legate, who is now in Bogotá. Bid him on his return journey stop again atSimití. We require a full report on the character of the Alcalde ofthat town. "

 * * * * *

Meantime, Josè did not permit his mental torture to interferewith Carmen's education. For six years now that had progressedsteadily. And the results? Wonderful, he thought--and yet notwholly attributable to his peculiar mode of tutelage. For, afterall, his work had been little more than the holding of her mindunwarped, that her instinctive sense of logic might reach thosetruthful conclusions which it was bound to attain if guided safelypast the tortuous shifts of human speculation and undemonstrabletheory. To his great joy, these six years had confirmed a beliefwhich he had held ever since the troublous days of his youth, namely, that, as a recent writer has said, "adolescent understandingis along straight lines, and leaps where the adult can onlylaboriously creep. " There had been no awful hold of early teachingto loosen and throw off; there were no old landmarks in her mindto remove; no tenacious, clinging effect of early associations toneutralize. And, perhaps most important of all, the child had seemedto enter the world utterly devoid of fear, and with a congenitalfaith, amounting to absolute knowledge, in the immanence of anomnipotent God of love. This, added to her eagerness and mentalreceptivity, had made his task one of constant rejoicing in therealization of his most extravagant dreams for her. 

As a linguist, Carmen had become accomplished. She spoke Englishfluently. And it was only a matter of practice to give her a similargrasp of French, Italian, and German. As for other instruction, such knowledge of the outside world as he had deemed wise to give herin these six years had been seized upon with avidity and asquickly assimilated. But he often speculated curiously--sometimesdubiously--upon the great surprises in store for her should she everleave her native village. And yet, as often as such thought recurredto him he would try to choke it back, to bar his mind against it, lestthe pull at his heartstrings snap them asunder. 

Often as he watched her expanding so rapidly into womanhood andexhibiting such graces of manner, such amiability of disposition, such selfless regard for others, combined with a physical beautysuch as he thought he had never before gazed upon, a great yearningwould clutch his soul, and a lump would rise in his throat. Andwhen, as was so often the case, her arms flew impulsively about hisneck and she whispered words of tender endearment in his ear, afierce determination would seize him, and he would clutch her tohimself with such vehemence as to make her gasp for breath. That shemight marry he knew to be a possibility. But the idea pierced hissoul as with a sword, and he thought that to see her in the arms ofanother, even the man of her choice, must excite him to murder. Oneday, shortly after her fourteenth birthday, she came to him and, perching herself as was her wont upon his knees, and twining her armsabout his neck, said, with traces of embarrassment, "Padre dear, Juan--he asked me to-day to marry him. "

Josè caught his breath. His ears rang. She--marry a peon of Simití! Tobe sure, Juan had often reminded him of the request he had made forher hand long ago. But Josè had not considered the likelihood of thelad's taking his question directly to her. And the girl--

"And what did you reply?" he asked thickly. 

"Padre dear--I told him that--" She stopped abruptly. 

"Well, _chiquita_; you told him--what?" His voice trembled. 

She flushed, still hesitating. He held her back from him and lookedsquarely into her wide eyes. 

"You told him, _chiquita_--"

"That--well, Padre dear, I told him that--that I might never marry. "

Josè sighed. "And do you think, little girl, that you will always holdto that resolution?"

"Yes, Padre, unless--"

"Well, _chiquita_, unless--"

"Unless you marry, too, Padre, " she said, dropping her eyes. 

"Unless I marry! I--a priest! But--what has that to do with it, girl?"

"Well--oh, Padre dear--can't you see? For then I would marry--" Sheburied her face in his shoulder. 

"Yes, _chiquita_, " he said, dully wondering. 

Her arms tightened about his neck. "You, " she murmured. 

It was the first expression of the kind that had ever come from herlips. Josè's heart thumped violently. The Goddess of Fortune hadsuddenly thrown her most precious jewel into his lap. Joy welled up inflood tides from unknown depths within. His eyes swam. Then--heremembered. And thick night fell upon his soul. 

Minutes passed, and the two sat very quiet. Then Carmen raised herhead. "Padre, " she whispered, "you don't say anything. I know you loveme. And you will not always be a priest--not always, " shaking herbeautiful curls with suggestive emphasis. 

Why did she say that? He wondered vaguely. The people called her an_hada_. He sometimes thought they had reason to. And then he knew thatshe never moved except in response to a beckoning hand that still, after all these years, remained invisible to him. 

"_Chiquita_, " he said in low response, "I fear--I fear that can neverbe. And even if--ah, _chiquita_, I am so much older than you, littlegirl--almost seventeen years!"

"You do not want to marry me, even if you could, Padre?" she queried, looking wistfully into his eyes, while her own grew moist. 

He clutched her to him again. "Carmen!" he cried wildly, "you littleknow--you little know! But--child, we must not talk of these things!Wait--wait!"

"But, Padre dear, " she pleaded, "just say that you _do_ love me thatway--just say it--your little girl wants to hear it. "

God above! She, pleading that he would say he loved her! His head sankupon his breast. He silently prayed that his tortured soul might burstand let his wasted life ebb into oblivion while his pent-up miserypoured out. 

"Carmen!" he cried with the despair of the lost. "I love you--loveyou--love you! Nay, child, I adore you! God! That I might hold youthus forever!"

She reached up quickly and kissed him. "Some day, Padre dear, " shemurmured softly, "you will stop thinking that two and two are seven. Then everything good will come to you. "

She sank back in his arms and nestled close to him, as if she longedto enter his empty heart and fill the great void with her measurelesslove. 

"And, Padre dear, " she whispered, "your little girl will wait foryou--yes, she will wait. "

 * * * * *

It was some days later that Rosendo, after returning almost emptyhanded from the hills, came to Josè and said, "Padre, I have sold my_hacienda_ to Don Luis. I need the money to purchase supplies and toget the papers through for some denouncements which I have made inGuamocó. I knew that Don Mario would put through no papers for me, andso I have asked Lázaro to make the transaction and to deliver thetitles to me when the final papers arrive. I have a blank here to befilled out with the name and description of a mineral property. I--what would be a good name for a mine, Padre?"

"Why do you ask that, Rosendo?" queried Josè in surprise. 

"Because, Padre, I want a foreign name--one not known, here. Give mean American one. Think hard. "

Josè reflected. "There is a city, a great city, that I have oftenheard about, up in the States, " he said finally. 

He took up the little atlas which he had received long since withother books from abroad. "Look, " he said, "it is called Chicago. Callyour property the Chicago mine, Rosendo. It is a name unknown downhere, and there can no confusion arise because of it. "

"_Caramba!_" Rosendo muttered, trying to twist his tongue around theword, "it is certain that no one else will use that name in Guamocó!But that makes my title still more secure, no?"

"But, Rosendo, " said Josè, when the full significance of the old man'sannouncement had finally penetrated, "you have sold your _finca_! Andto acquire title to property that you can never sell or work! Why, man! do you realize what you have done? You are impoverished! Whatwill you do now? And what about Carmen? for we have nothing. And thesword that hangs above us may fall any day!"

"_Bien_, Padre, it is for her sake that I have done it. Say no more. It will work out in some way. I go back to-morrow. But, if the titlesshould come from Cartagena during my absence--and, Padre, if anythingshould happen to me--for the love of the Virgin do not let them out ofyour hands! They are for her. "

Yet Rosendo departed not on the morrow. He remained to mingle histears with those of the sorrowing Ana. For the woman, whose heart hadbeen lighter since the arrival of her babe, had come to the priestthat day to have the child christened. And so, before the sun mightfill the _plaza_ with its ardent midday heat, Rosendo and his familyrepaired to the church. There before the altar Josè baptised thelittle one and gave it his own name, thus triumphantly ushering thepagan babe into the Christian Catholic world. The child cried at thetouch of the baptismal water. 

"Now, " commented Rosendo, "the devil has gone out of him, driven outby the holy water. "

But, as Josè leaned over the babe and looked into its dark eyes, hishand stopped, and his heart stood still. He raised his head and bent alook of inquiry upon the mother. She returned the look with one thatmutely voiced a stifled fear and confirmed his own. "Padre!" shewhispered hoarsely. "What is it? Quick!"

He took a candle from the altar and passed it before the child'seyes. 

"Padre! He sees! _Santa Virgen!_ Do not tell me--_Dios mío_!" Themother's voice rose to a wail, as she snatched her babe away. 

A loud exclamation escaped Rosendo. Doña Maria stood mute; but Josè ashe looked at her divined her thought and read therein a full knowledgeof the awful fact that she had never voiced to the heart-brokenmother. 

"Padre!" cried the perplexed Rosendo. "Maria!" turning in appeal tohis wife. "Speak, some one! _Santa Virgen_, speak! Ana, what ails thechild?"

Josè turned his head aside. Carmen crowded close to the weeping Ana. Doña Maria took Rosendo's arm. 

"The babe, Rosendo, " she said quietly, "was born--blind. "

CHAPTER 30

The "revolutionist" of Latin America is generally only the disgruntledpolitician. His revolution is seldom more than a violent squabbleamong greedy spoilsmen for control of the loose-jointed administration. But the great Mosquera Revolution which burst into flame in NewGranada in 1861 was fed with fuel of a different nature. Itdemonstrated, if demonstration were necessary, that the Treaty ofWestphalia did not write _finis_ to the history of bloodshed in thename of Christ; that it had but banked the fires of religiousanimosity, until the furnace should be transferred from the Old World tothe New, where the breath of liberty would again fan them intovigorous activity. 

The Mosquera War tore asunder Church and State; but left unhappyColombia prone and bleeding. It externalized a mighty protest ofenlightenment against Rome's dictates in temporal affairs. And, as hasbefore happened when that irresistible potentiality, the people, hasbeen stirred into action, the Church was disestablished, its propertyconfiscated, and its meddling, parasitical clergy disenfranchised. 

But then, too, as almost invariably occurs when the masses find thatthey have parted with cherished prejudices and effete customs, andhave adopted ideas so radical as to lift them a degree higher in thescale of progress, they wavered. The Church was being humiliated. Their religion was under contempt. The holy sacrament of marriage wasdebased to a civil ceremony. Education was endangered by taking it outof the hands of the pious clergy. Texts unauthorized by Holy Churchwere being adopted. Where would this radical modernism end? The alarmspread, fanned by the watchful agents of Rome. Revolt after revoltoccurred. And twenty years of incessant internecine warfare followed. 

Fear and prejudice triumphed. A new Constitution was framed. And whenit was seen that Roman Catholicism was therein again declared to bethe national religion of the Republic of Colombia; when it was notedthat the clergy, obedient to a foreign master, were to be readmittedto participation in government affairs; when it was understood that anational press-censorship was to be established, dominated by HolyChurch; and when, in view of this, the great religio-politicalopponent was seen laying down her weapons and extending her arms indubious benediction over the exhausted people, the masses yielded--andthere was great rejoicing on the banks of the Tiber over theprodigal's return. 

When Wenceslas Ortiz was placed in temporary control of the See ofCartagena he shrewdly urged the Church party to make at least apretense of disbanding as a political organization. The provincesof Cundinamarca and Panamá were again in a state of ferment. Congress, sitting in Bogotá, had before it for consideration ameasure vesting in the President the power to interfere in certainstates or provinces whenever, in his opinion, the conservation ofpublic order necessitated such action. That this measure would bepassed, Wenceslas could not be sure. But that, once adopted, it wouldprecipitate the unhappy country again into a sanguinary war, hethought he knew to a certainty. He had faced this same question sixyears before, when a similar measure was before Congress. But then, with a strong Church party, and believing the passage of the law to becertain, he had yielded to the counsel of hot-headed leaders inCartagena, and approved the inauguration of hostilities. 

The result had been a _fiasco_. Congress dropped the measure like ahot plate. The demands of the "revolutionists" were quickly met by thefederal government. The _causae belli_ evaporated. And Wenceslasretired in chagrin to the solitude of his study, to bite his nails andwonder dubiously if his party were strong enough to insure hisappointment to the See of Cartagena in the event of the then agedoccupant's demise. 

It was this hasty judgment of Wenceslas and his political associateswhich had delayed further consideration of the objectionable measurefor six years. But the interim had seen his party enormouslystrengthened, himself in control of the See, and his preparationscompleted for turning the revolt, whenever it should come, to his owngreat advantage. He had succeeded in holding the Church party alooffrom actual participation in politics during the present crisis. Andhe was now keeping it in constant readiness to throw its tremendousinfluence to whichever side should offer the greatest inducements. 

Time passed. The measure dragged. Congress dallied; and then preparedto adjourn. Wenceslas received a code message from his agent in Bogotáthat the measure would be laid on the table. At the same time came asharp prod from New York. The funds had been provided to finance theimpending revolution. The concessions to be granted were satisfactory. Why the delay? Had the Church party exaggerated its influence uponCongress?

Wenceslas stormed aloud. "_Santa Virgen!_" he muttered, as he pacedangrily back and forth in his study. "A curse upon Congress! Acurse--"

He stopped still. In the midst of his imprecations an idea occurred tohim. He went to his _escritorio_ and drew out the Legate's recentreport. "Ah, " he mused, "that pig-headed Alcalde. And the good littleJosè. They may serve. _Bien_, we shall see. "

Then he summoned his secretary and dictated telegrams to Bogotá andNew York, and a long letter to the Alcalde of Simití. These finished, he called a young acolyte in waiting. 

"Take a message to the Governor, " he commanded. "Say to His Excellencythat I shall, call upon him at three this afternoon, to discussmatters of gravest import. " Dismissing his secretary, he leaned backin his chair and dropped into a profound revery. 

Shortly before the hour which he had set for conference with theDepartmental Governor, Wenceslas rose and went to his _escritorio_, from which he took a paper-bound book. 

"H'm, " he commented aloud. "'Confessions of a Roman Catholic Priest. '_Bien_, I was correct in my surmise that I should some day have usefor this little volume. Poor, misguided Rincón! But--_Bien_, I thinkit will do--I think it will do. "

A smile played over his handsome, imperious face. Then he snapped thebook shut and took up his hat. At the door he hesitated a moment, withhis hand on the knob. 

"If the Alcalde were not such a fool, it would be impossible, " hemused. "But--the combination--the isolation of Simití--the imbecilityof Don Mario--the predicament of our little Josè--_Hombre_! it is arare situation, and it will work. It _must_ work--_cielo_! With thepig-headed Alcalde seizing government arms to suppress the Churchparty as represented by the foolish Josè, and with the Presidentsending federal troops to quell the disturbance, the anticlericalswill rise in a body throughout the country. Then Congress will hastilypass the measure to support the President, the Church party will swinginto line with the Government--and the revolution will be on. Simitíprovides the setting and the fuel; I, the torch. I will cable again toAmes when I leave the Governor. " He swung the door open and wentbriskly out. 

 * * * * *

"Padre, I am crushed. "

It was Rosendo who spoke. He and Josè were sitting out in thegathering dusk before the parish house on the evening of the day thatAna's babe had been christened. The old man's head was sunk upon hisbreast, and he rocked back and forth groaning aloud. 

"We must be brave, Rosendo, " returned Josè tenderly. "We have gonethrough much, you and I, since I came to Simití. But--we have believedit to be in a good cause. Shall we surrender now?"

"But, Padre, after it all, to have her babe come into the world blind!God above! The poor child--the poor child! Padre, it is the last thingthat I can endure. My ambition is gone. I cannot return now toGuamocó. Let come what may, I am done. "

"Rosendo, " said Josè, drawing his chair closer to the old man, andlaying a hand on his, "we have fought long and hard. But, if I mistakenot, the greatest struggle is yet to come. The greatest demand uponyour strength and mine is still to be made. "

Rosendo raised his head. "What mean you, Padre?"

Josè spoke low and earnestly. "This: Juan returned from Bodega Centralthis evening. He reports that several large boxes are there, consignedto Don Mario, and bearing the government stamp. He found one of themslightly broken, and he peered within. What think you it contained?Rifles!"

Rosendo stared at the priest dumbly. Josè went on:

"I did not intend to tell you this until morning. But it is right thatyou should hear it now, that your courage may rise in the face ofdanger. What think you? The federal government is sending arms toSimití to establish a base here at the outlet of the Guamocó region, and well hidden from the Magdalena river. This town is to become amilitary depot, unless I mistake the signs. And danger no longerthreatens, but is at our door. "

"_Ca-ram-ba_!" Rosendo rose slowly and drew himself up to his fullheight. "War!" he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper. 

"There is no question about it, Rosendo, " replied Josè gravely. "And Ihave no reason to doubt the truth of Diego's prophecy, that this timeit will be one to be reckoned with. "

"_Hombre_! And Carmen?"

"Take her into the hills, Rosendo. Start to-morrow. "

"But you?"

Josè's thought was dwelling on his last talk with the girl. Again hefelt her soft arms about his neck, and her warm breath against hischeek. He felt her kiss, and heard again her words, the sweetest, hethought, that had ever echoed in mortal ears. And then he thought ofhis mother, of his office, of the thousand obstacles that loomed hugeand insurmountable between him and Carmen. He passed a hand across hisbrow and sighed heavily. 

"I remain here, Rosendo. I am weary, unutterably weary. I welcome, notonly the opportunity for service which this war may bring, butlikewise the hope of--death. If I could but know that she weresafe--"

"_Caramba_! Think you she would leave you here, Padre? No!" DidRosendo's words convey aught to the priest that he did not alreadyknow?

"But--Rosendo, I shall not go, " he returned bitterly. 

"Then neither do we, Padre, " replied Rosendo, sitting again. "Thechild, Carmen--she--Padre, she loves you with a love that is not ofthe earth. "

 * * * * *

Morning found the old man's conviction still unshaken. Josè sought thequiet of his cottage to reflect. But his meditations were interruptedby Carmen. 

"Padre, " she began, sparkling like a mountain rill in the sunlight asshe seated herself before him. "Pepito--Anita's babe--he is not blind, you know. " Her head bobbed vigorously, as was her wont when she soughtto give emphasis to her dramatic statements. 

Josè smiled, and resigned himself to the inevitable. He had beenexpecting this. 

"And, Padre, have you been thankful that he isn't?"

"Isn't what, child?"

"Blind. You know, Padre Diego thought he couldn't see the reality. Helooked always at his bad thoughts. And so the not seeing, and theseeing of only bad things, were both--externalized, and the babe cameto us without sight. That is, without what the human mind calls sight. And now, " she went on excitedly, "you and I have just _got_ to knowthat it isn't so! The babe sees. God's children all see. And I havethanked Him all morning that this is so, and that you and I see it. Don't we, Padre dear? Yes, we do. "

"Well--I suppose so, " replied Josè abstractedly, his thought stilloccupied with the danger that hung over the little town. 

"Suppose so! You _know_ so, Padre! There isn't any 'suppose' about it!Now look: what makes sight? The eye? No. The eye is made _by_ thesight. The human mind just gets it twisted about. It thinks that sightdepends upon the optic nerve, and upon the fleshly eye. But it isn'tso. It is the sight that externalizes the 'meaty' eye. You see, thesight is within, not without. It is mental. God is all-seeing; and so, sight is eternal. Don't you see? Of course you do!"

Josè did not reply. Yes, he did see. But what he saw was thebeautiful, animated girl before him. And the thought that he must someday be separated from her was eating his heart like a canker. 

"Well, then, " went on the girl, without waiting for his reply, "if amortal's mental concept of sight is poor, why, he will manifest pooreyes. If the thought-concept were right, the manifestation would beright. Wouldn't it?"

Josè suddenly returned to the subject under discussion. "By that Isuppose you mean, _chiquita_, that the babe's thought, or concept, ofsight was all wrong, and so he came into the world blind. "

"Not at all, Padre, " she quickly replied. "The babe had nothing to dowith it, except to seem to manifest the wrong thoughts of its father, or mother, or both. Or perhaps it manifests just simply bad thoughts, without the bad thoughts belonging to anybody. For, you know, we noneof us really _have_ such thoughts. And such thoughts don't reallyexist. They are just a part of the one big lie about God. "

"Then the babe sees?"

"Surely; the real babe is a child of God, and sees. "

"But the human babe doesn't see, " he retorted. 

"But, " she replied, "what you call the human babe is only your mentalconcept of the babe. And you see that mental concept as a blind one. Now _un-see_ it. Look at it in the right way. See only God's child, with perfect sight. And, Padre, after a while _you will see that babeseeing things, just as we do_!

"Don't you understand?" she exclaimed, as he sat looking fixedly ather. "Don't you see that if you have the right thought about the babe, and hold to it, and put out every thought that says it is blind, why, your right thought will be externalized in a mental concept of a babethat sees? Don't you know that that is exactly what Jesus did? Hedidn't affect the real man at all. But he did change the mentalconcepts which we call human beings. And we can do the same, if weonly know it, and follow him, and spiritualize our thought, as he did, by putting out and keeping out every thought that we know does notcome from God, and that is, therefore, only a part of the lie aboutHim. Here is a case where we have got to quit thinking that two andtwo are seven. And I have done it. It is God's business to make ourconcepts right. And He has done so--long since. And we will see these, right concepts if we will put out the wrong ones!"

"Well?" he queried lamely, wholly at a loss for any other answer. 

"Well, Padre, I am not a bit afraid. I don't see a blind babe at all, because there just can't be any. And neither do you. The babe seesbecause God sees. "

"In other words, you don't intend to allow yourself to be deceived byappearances?" he suggested. 

"That is just it, Padre!" she exclaimed. "Blindness is only anappearance. But it doesn't appear to God, It appears only to the humanmind--which isn't any mind at all! And the appearance can be made todisappear, if we know the truth and stick to it. For any appearance ofa human body is a mental concept, that's all. "

"A thing of thought, then?" he said. 

"Yes, a thing of _wrong_ thought. But all wrong thought is subjectto God's right thought. We've proved that, haven't we, lots oftimes? Well, this wrong thought about a babe that is blind can bechanged--made to disappear--just as any lie can be made to disappearwhen we know the truth. And so you and I are not going to be afraid, are we? I told Anita this morning not to worry, but to just _know_all the time that her babe did see, no matter what the appearancewas. And she smiled at me, Padre, she smiled. And I know that shetrusts, and is going to work with you and me. "

Work with her! Heavens! had he done aught of late but work against herby his constant harboring of fears, of doubts, and his distrust ofspiritual power?

"Padre, " she resumed, "I want you to promise me that every day youwill thank God that the babe really sees. And that you will turn righton every thought of blindness and know that it is a part of the lieabout God, and put it right out of your mind. Will you?"

"But--child--if my mind tells me that the babe is blind, how can I--"

"I don't care what your mind tells you about the babe! You are tolisten to what God tells you, not your human mind! Does God tell youthat the babe is blind? Does He?" she repeated, as the man hesitated. 

"Why, no, _chiquita_, He--"

"Listen, Padre, " she interrupted again, drawing closer to him. "Is Godgood, or bad, or both?"

"He is good, _chiquita_, all good. "

"Infinite good, then, no?"

"Yes. "

"And we have long since proved by actual reasoning and demonstrationthat He is mind, and so infinite mind, no?"

"It must be conceded, Carmen. "

"Well, an infinite mind has all power. And an infinite, all-powerfulmind that is all good could not possibly create anything bad, or sick, or discordant--now could He?"

"Utterly impossible, little girl. "

"The Bible says so. Our reasoning tells us so. But--the five physicalsenses tell us differently. Don't they?"

"Yes. "

"And yet, we know that the five physical senses _do not tell ustruth_! We know that when the human mind thinks it is receivingreports about things through the five physical senses it is doingnothing more than looking at its own thoughts. Now isn't that so?"

"It certainly seems so, little one. "

"The thoughts of an infinite and good mind must be like that mind, allgood, no? Well, then, thoughts of discord, disease, blindness, anddeath--do they come from the infinite, good mind? No!"

"Well, _chiquita mía_, that is just the sticking point. I can see allthe rest. But the mighty question is, where _do_ those thoughts comefrom? I am quite as ready as you to admit that discord, sin, evil, death, and all the whole list of human ills and woes come from thesebad thoughts held in the human mind and so externalized. I believethat the human man really sees, feels, hears, smells, and tastes thesethoughts--that the functioning of the physical senses is whollymental--takes place in mind, in thought only. That is, that the humanmind thinks it sees, feels, hears; but that the whole process ismental, and that it is but regarding its thoughts, instead of actuallyregarding and cognizing objects outside of itself. Do you follow me?"

"Of course, " she replied with animation. "Isn't that just what I amtrying to tell you?"

"But--and here is the great obstacle--we differentiate between goodand bad thoughts. We agree that a fountain can not send forth sweetand bitter waters at the same time. And so, good and bad thoughts donot come from the infinite mind that we call God. But where do theothers originate? Answer that, _chiquita_, and my problems will all besolved. "

She looked at him in perplexity for some time. It seemed to herthat she never would understand him. But, with a little sigh ofresignation, she replied:

"Padre, you answered that question yourself, long ago. You worked itall out three or four years ago. But--you haven't stuck to it. You letthe false testimony of the physical senses mesmerize you again. Instead of sticking to the thoughts that you knew to be good, andholding to them, in spite of the pelting you got from the others, youhave looked first at the good, and then at the bad, and then believedthem all to be real, and all to be powerful. And so you got miserablymixed up. And the result is that you don't know where you stand. Doyou? Or, you think you don't; for that thought, too, is a bad one, andhas no power at all, excepting the power that you seem willing--andglad--to give it. "

He winced under the poignant rebuke. He knew in his heart that she wasright. He had not clung to the good, despite the roars of Satan. Hehad not "resisted unto blood. " Far from it; he had fallen, almostinvariably, at the first shower of the adversary's darts. And now, washe not trying, desperately, to show her that Ana's babe was blind, hopelessly so? Was he not fighting on evil's side, and vigorously, though with shame suffusing his face, waving aloft the banner oferror?

"The trouble with you, Padre, " the girl resumed, after some moments ofreflection, "is that you--you see everything--well, you see everythingas a person, or a thing. "

"You mean that I always associate thought with personality?" hesuggested. 

"That's it! But you have got to learn to deal with thoughts and ideasby themselves, apart from any person or thing. You have got to learnto deal with facts and their opposites entirely apart from places, orthings, or people. Now if I say that Life is eternal, I have stated amental thing. That is the fact. Its opposite, that is, the opposite ofLife, is death. One opposes the other. But God is Life. Is God alsodeath? He can't be. Life is the fact. Then death must be the illusion. That being so, Life is the reality, and death is the unreality. Verywell, what makes death seem real? It is just because the false thoughtof death comes into the human mind, and is held there as a reality, assomething that has _got_ to happen. And that strong belief becomesexternalized in what mortals call death. Don't you see? Is there aperson in the whole world who doesn't think that some time he has gotto die? No, not one! But now suppose every person held the belief thatdeath was an illusion, a part of the big lie about God, just as Jesussaid it was. Well, wouldn't we get rid of death in a hurry? I shouldthink so! And is there a person in the whole world who wouldn't saythat Anita's babe was blind? No, not one! They would look at the humanthought of blindness, instead of God's real idea of sight, and so theywould make and keep the babe blind. Don't you understand me, Padredear? Don't you? I know you do, for you really see as God sees!"

She stopped for breath. Her eyes glistened, and her whole body seemedto radiate the light of knowledge divine. Then she went hurriedly on:

"Padre, everything is mental. You know that, for you told me so, longsince. Well, that being so, we have got to face the truth that everymental fact seems to have an opposite, or a lot of opposites, alsoseemingly mental. The opposite of a fact is an illusion. The oppositeof truth is a lie. Well, God is the great fact. Infinite mind is theinfinite fact. The so-called opposite of this infinite fact is thehuman mind, the many so-called minds of mankind--_a kind of man. _ Buteverything is still mental. Now, an illusion, or a lie, does not_really_ exist. If I tell you that two and two are seven, that liedoes not exist. Is it in what we call my mind, or yours? No. Even ifyou say you believe it, that doesn't make it real. Nor does it showthat it has real existence in your mind. Not a bit of it! But--if youhold it, and cling to it--allow it to stay with you and influenceyou--why, Padre dear, everything in your whole life will be changed!

"Let me take your pencil--and a piece of paper. Look now, " drawing aline down through the paper. "On one side, Padre, is the infinitemind, God, and all His thoughts and ideas, all good, perfect andeternal. On the other side is the lie about it all. That is stillmental; but it is illusion, falsity. It includes all sin, allsickness, all murder, all evil, accidents, loss, failure, badambitions, and death. These are all parts of the big lie aboutGod--His unreal opposite. These are the so-called thoughts that cometo the human mind. Where do they come from? From nowhere. The humanmind looks at them, tastes them, feels them, holds them; and then theybecome its beliefs. After a while the human mind looks at nothing butthese beliefs. It believes them to be real. And, finally, it comes tobelieve that God made them and sent them to His children. Isn't itawful, Padre! And aren't you glad that you know about it? And aren'tyou going to learn how to keep the good on one side of that line andthe illusion on the other?"

It seemed to Josè a thing incredible that these words were coming froma girl of fifteen. And yet he knew that at the same tender age he wasas deeply serious as she--but with this difference: he was thentenaciously clinging to the thoughts that she was now utterlyrepudiating as unreal and non-existent. 

"Padre dear, " the girl resumed, "everything is mental. The wholeuniverse is mental. "

"Well, " he replied reflectively, "at least our comprehension of it iswholly mental. "

"Why--it is all inside--it is all in our thought! Padre, when Hernandoplays on that old pipe of his, where is the music? Is it in the pipe?Or is it in our thoughts?"

"But, _chiquita_, we don't seem to have it in our thought until weseem to see him playing on the pipe, do we?"

"No, we don't, " she replied. "And do you know why? It is just becausethe human mind believes that everything, even music, must come frommatter--must have a--"

"Must have a material origin? Is that what you mean?"

"Yes. And men even believe that life itself has a material origin; andso they have wasted centuries trying to find it in the body. Theydon't seem to want to know that God is life. "

"Then, _chiquita_, you do not believe that matter is real?"

"There is no matter outside of us, or around us, Padre, " she said inreply. "The human mind looks at its thoughts and seems to see them outaround it as things made of matter. But, after all, it only sees itsthoughts. "

"Then I suppose that the externalization of our thought in ourconsciousness constitutes what we call space, does it not?"

"It must, Padre, " she answered. 

He studied a moment. Then:

"_Chiquita_, how do you know me? What do you see that you call 'me'?"

"Why, Padre, I see you as God does--at least, I try always to see youthat way?" she answered earnestly. "And that is the way Jesus alwayssaw people. "

"God sees me, of course. But, does He see me as I see myself?" hemused aloud. 

"You do not see yourself, Padre, " was her reply. "You see only thethoughts that you call yourself. Thoughts of mind and body and allthose things that go to form a human being. "

"Well--yes, I must agree with you there; for, though God certainlyknows me, He cannot know me as I think I know myself, sinful anddiscordant. "

"He knows the real 'you, ' Padre dear. And that is just as He is. Heknows that the unreal 'you, ' the 'you' that you think you know, isillusion. If He knew the human, mortal 'you' as real, He would have toknow evil. And that can not be. "

"No, for the Bible says He is of eyes too pure to behold evil. "

"Well, Padre, why don't you try to be like Him?"

But the girl needed not that he should answer her question. She knewwhy he had failed, for "without faith it is impossible to please him:for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is arewarder of them that diligently seek him. " She knew that Josè'sstruggle to overcome evil had been futile, because he had firstmade evil real. She knew that the difficulty he had experienced inkeeping his thought straight was because he persisted in looking atboth the good and the evil. Lot's wife, in the Bible allegory, hadturned back to look at things material and had been transformed intoa pillar of salt. Josè had turned again and again to his materialisticthoughts; and had been turned each time to salt tears. She knew thathe gave up readily, that he yielded easily to evil's strongesttool, discouragement, and fell back into self-condemnation, whereby heonly rendered still more real to himself the evil which he wasstriving to overcome. She knew that the only obstacle that he waswrestling with in his upward progress was the universal belief in apower other than God, good, which is so firmly fixed in the humanconsciousness. But she likewise knew that this hindrance was but afalse conviction, and that it could and would be overcome. 

"Padre, " she reflected, looking up at him in great seriousness, "if alie had an origin, it would be true, wouldn't it?"

He regarded her attentively, but without replying. 

"But Jesus said that Satan was the father of lies. And Satan, since heis the father of lies, must himself be a lie. You see, Padre, we cango right back to the very first chapter in the Bible. First comes theaccount of the real creation. Then comes the account as the humanmind looks at it. But that comes after the 'mist' had gone up fromthe ground, from dirt, from matter. Don't you see? That mist waserror, the opposite of Good. It was evil, the opposite of God. It wasthe human mind and all human thought, the opposite of the infiniteMind, God, and His thought. The mist went up from matter. So every bitof evil that you can possibly think of comes from the material, physical senses. Evil is always a mist, hiding the good. Isn't itso? The physical universe, the universe of matter, is the way thehuman mind sees its thoughts of the spiritual universe that wascreated by God. The human mind is just a bundle of these falsethoughts; and you yourself have said that the human consciousnesswas a 'thought-activity, concerned with the activity of falsethought. ' The human mind is the lie about the infinite mind. It isthe mistake, the illusion. It is like a mistake in mathematics. Ithas no principle, and nothing to stand on. The minute you turn thetruth upon it, why, it vanishes. "

"Well, then, _chiquita_, why don't people turn the truth upon iteverywhere?"

"Because they are mesmerized by the error, Padre. They sit looking atthese false thoughts and believing them true. Padre, all disease, allevil, comes from the false thought in the human mind. It is thatthought externalized in the human consciousness. And when the humanmind turns from them, and puts them out, and lets the true thoughtsin, why--why, _then we will raise the dead_!"

"But, _chiquita_, the human body--if it has died--"

"Padre, " she interrupted, "the human body and human mind are one andthe same. The body is in the mind. The body that you think you see isbut your thought of a body, and _is in your so-called human mind_!"

"Do you really understand that, child?"

"I _know_ it!" she exclaimed. "And so would you if you read your Biblein the right way. Why--I had never seen a Bible until you gave meyours. I didn't know what a book it was! And to think that it has beenin the world for thousands of years, and yet people still kill oneanother, still get sick, and still die! I don't see how they can!"

"But, _chiquita_, people are too busy to devote time to demonstratingthe truths of the Bible, " he offered. 

"Too busy!" she ejaculated. "Busy with what?"

"Why--busy making money--busy socially--busy having a good time--busyaccumulating things that--that they must go away and leave to somebodyelse!"

"Yes, " she said sadly. "They are like the people Jesus spoke of, toobusy with things that are of no account to see the things thatare--that are--"

"That are priceless, _chiquita_--that are the most vital of all thingsto sinful, suffering mankind, " he supplied. 

Rosendo looked in at the door. Josè motioned him away. These hourswith Carmen had become doubly precious to him of late. Perhaps he felta presentiment that the net about him and his loved ones was drawingrapidly tighter. Perhaps he saw the hour swiftly approaching, even athand, when these moments of spiritual intercourse would be rudelyterminated. And perhaps he saw the clouds lowering ever darker abovethem, and knew that in the blackness which was soon to fall the girlwould leave him and be swept out into the great world of humanthoughts and events, to meet, alone with her God, the fiercestelements, the subtlest wiles, of the carnal mind. As for himself--hewas in the hands of that same God. 

He turned again to the girl. "_Chiquita_, " he said, "you do notfind mistakes in the Bible? For, out in the big world where I camefrom, there are many, very many, who say that it is a book ofinconsistencies, of gross inaccuracies, and that its statements aredirectly opposed to the so-called natural sciences. They say that itdoesn't even relate historical events accurately. But, after all, the Bible is just the record of the unfoldment in the humanconsciousness of the concept of God. Why cavil at it when itcontains, as we must see, a revelation of the full formula forsalvation, which, as you say, is right-thinking. "

"Yes, Padre. And it even tells us what to think about. Paul said, youknow, that we should think about whatsoever things are true, honest, just, pure, lovely, and of good report. Well, he told us that therewas no law--not even any human law--against those things. And don'tyou know, he wrote about bringing into captivity every thought toChrist? What did he mean by that?"

"Just what you have been telling me, I guess, _chiquita_: that everythought must be measured by the Christ-principle. And if it doesn'tconform to that standard, it must be rejected. "

"Yes. And then he said that he died daily. He did die daily to evil, to all evil thought--"

"And to the testimony of the physical senses, think you?"

"He must have! For, in proving God to be real, he had to prove thereports of the five physical senses to be only human beliefs. "

"You are right, _chiquita_. He must have known that the corporealsenses were the only source from which evil came. He must have knownthat unless God testified in regard to things, any other testimony wasbut carnal belief. This must be so, for God, being infinite mind, isalso infinite intelligence. He knows all things, and knows themaright--not as the human mind thinks it knows them, twisted anddeformed, but right. "

"Of course, Padre. You know now that you see it right. And can't you_stick_ to it, and prove it?"

"_Chiquita_, " he answered, shaking his head again, his words stillvoicing a lingering note of doubt, "it may be--the 'I' that I callmyself may be entirely human, unreal, mortal. I make no doubt it is, for it seems filled to the brim with discordant thoughts. And it willpass away. And then--then what will be left?"

"Oh, Padre!" she cried, with a trace of exasperation. "Empty yourselfof the wrong thoughts--shut the door against them--don't let them inany more! Then fill yourself with God's thoughts. Then when themortal part fades away, why, the good will be left. And it will be theright 'you. '"

"But how shall I empty myself, and then fill myself again?"

"Padre!" cried the girl, springing from her chair and stamping herfoot with each word to give it emphasis. "It is love, love, love, nothing but love! Forget yourself, and love everything and everybody, the real things and the real bodies! Love God, and good, and goodthoughts! Turn from the bad and the unreal--forget it! Why--"

"Wait, _chiquita_, " he interrupted. "A great war is threatening ourcountry at this very minute. Shall I turn from it and let come whatmay?"

She hesitated not. "No! But you can know that war comes only from thehuman mind; that it is bad thought externalized; and that God ispeace, and is infinitely greater than such bad thought; and He willtake care of you--if you will let Him!"

"And how do I let Him? By sitting back and folding my hands andsaying, Here am I, Lord, protect me--"

"Oh, Padre dear, you make me ashamed of your foolish thought--whichisn't your thought at all, but just thought that seems to be callingitself 'you. ' Jesus said, He that believeth on me, the works that I doshall he do likewise. But that did not mean sitting back with foldedhands. It meant _understanding_ him; and knowing that there is nopower apart from the Christ-principle; and using that principle, usingit every moment, _hard_; and with it overcoming every thought thatdoesn't come from God, every thought of the human mind, whether it iscalled war, or sickness, or death!"

"Then evil can be thought away, _chiquita_?" He knew not why hepursued her so relentlessly. 

"No, Padre, " she replied with a gentle patience that smote him. "No, Padre. But it can be destroyed in the human mind. And when you haveovercome the habit of thinking the wrong way, evil will disappear. That is the whole thing. That is what Jesus tried to make the peoplesee. "

But Josè knew it. Yet he had not put it to the proof. He had gonethrough life, worrying himself loose from one human belief, only tobecome enslaved to another equally insidious. He knew that the causeof whatever came to him was within his own mentality. And yet he knew, likewise, that he would have to demonstrate this--that he would becalled upon to "prove" God. His faith without the works following wasdead. He felt that he did not really believe in power opposed to God;and yet he did constantly yield to such belief. And such yielding wasthe chief of sins. The unique Son of God had said so. He knew thatwhen the Master had said, "Behold, I give you power over all theenemy, " he meant that the Christ-principle would overcome every falseclaim of the human mentality, whether that claim be one of physicalcondition or action, or a claim of environment and event. He knew thatall things were possible to God, and likewise to the one whounderstood and faithfully applied the Christ-principle. Carmenbelieved that good alone was real and present. She applied thisknowledge to every-day affairs. And in so doing she denied reality toevil. He must let go. He must turn upon the claims of evil to life andintelligence. His false sense of righteousness _must_ give place tothe spiritual sense of God as immanent good. He knew that Carmen'sgreat love was an impervious armor, which turned aside the darts ofthe evil one, the one lie. He knew that his reasoning from the premiseof mixed good and evil was false, and the results chaotic. And knowingall this, he knew that he had touched the hem of the garment of theChrist-understanding. There remained, then, the test of fire. And ithad come. Would he stand?

"Padre, " said Carmen, going to him and putting her arms about hisneck, "you say that you think a great war is coming. But youneedn't be afraid. Don't you remember what it says in the book ofIsaiah? 'No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper, andevery tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shaltcondemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and theirrighteousness is of me, saith the Lord. ' No weapon of evil cantouch you, if you understand God. Every tongue of the human mind thatrises to judge you, to sentence you, shall be condemned. You willcondemn it--you _must_! This is your heritage, given you by God. Andyour righteousness, your right-thinking, must come from God. Yourthoughts must be His. Then--"

"Yes, yes, _chiquita_, " he said, drawing her to him. 

"And now, Padre, you will promise me that you will know every day thatAnita's babe is not blind--that it sees, because God sees?"

"Yes, _chiquita_, I promise. "

"Padre dear, " she murmured, nestling close to him, "I love you somuch, so much!"

He answered not, except in the tightening of the arm that was abouther. 

CHAPTER 31

In the weeks that followed there were days when the very air seemedpregnant with potential destruction, awaiting only the daring handthat would render it kinetic. Josè dwelt in a state of incessant, heart-shaking agitation. The sudden precipitation of the revolt sixyears before had caught him wholly unprepared, unaware even of theevents which had led to it. In the intervening years, however, he hadhad some opportunity, even in his isolation, to study politicalconditions in that unhappy country, and to form some estimate of themental forces at work in both Church and State which, he knew, mustultimately bring them again into conflict for supremacy. His knowledgeof the workings of the human mind convinced him that Diego's direprophecy had not been empty; that the Church, though ostensiblyassuming only spiritual leadership, would nevertheless rest not untilthe question "Who shall be greatest?" even in the petty, sordidaffairs of mortals, should be answered, and answered--though by forceof arms--in her favor. And his estimate of the strength of theopposing parties had led him to believe that the impending strugglewould drench the land in blood. 

As to the _rôle_ which Wenceslas would play, he could form nosatisfactory estimate. He knew him to be astute, wary, and theshrewdest of politicians. He knew, likewise, that he was acting inconjunction with powerful financial interests in both North Americaand Europe. He knew him to be a man who would stop at no scruple, hesitate at no dictate of conscience, yield to no moral or ethicalcode; one who would play Rome against Wall Street, with his ownunfortunate country as the stake; one who would hurl the fairest sonsof Colombia at one another's throats to bulge his own coffers; andthen wring from the wailing widows their poor substance for Masses tomove their beloved dead through an imagined purgatory. 

But he could not know that, in casting about impatiently for animmediate _causus belli_, Wenceslas had hit upon poor, isolated, little Simití as the point of ignition, and the pitting of itsstruggling priest against Don Mario as the method of exciting thenecessary spark. He could not know that Wenceslas had representedto the Departmental Governor in Cartagena that an obscure _Cura_ infar-off Simití, an exile from the Vatican, and the author of aviolent diatribe against papal authority, was the nucleus aboutwhich anticlerical sentiment was crystallizing in the Departmentof Bolívar. He did not know that the Governor had been induced by theacting-Bishop's specious representations to send arms to Simití, tobe followed by federal troops only when the crafty Wenceslas sawthat the time was ripe. He did not even suspect that Don Mario wasto be the puppet whom Wenceslas would sacrifice on the altar ofrapacity when he had finished with him, and that the simple-mindedAlcalde in his blind zeal to protect the Church would therebyproclaim himself an enemy of both Church and State, and afford thesmiling Wenceslas the most fortuitous of opportunities to reveal theChurch's unexampled magnanimity by throwing her influence in withthat of the Government against their common enemy. 

His own intercourse with Wenceslas during the years of his exile inSimití had been wholly formal, and not altogether disagreeable as longas the contributions of gold to the Bishop's leaking cofferscontinued. He had received almost monthly communications fromCartagena, relating to the Church at large, and, at infrequentintervals, to the parish of Simití. But he knew that Cartagena'sinterest in Simití was merely casual--nay, rather, financial--and hestrove to maintain it so, lest the stimulation of a deeper interestthwart his own plans. His conflict with Diego in regard to Carmen hadseemed for the moment to evoke the Bishop's interference; and thesudden and unaccountable disappearance of that priest had threatenedto expose both Josè and Carmen to the full scrutiny of Wenceslas. But, fortunately, the insistence of those matters which were rapidlyculminating in a political outbreak left Wenceslas little time forinterference in affairs which did not pertain exclusively to themomentous questions with which he was now concerned, and Josè andCarmen were still left unmolested. It was only when, desperate lestCongress adjourn without passing the measure which he knew wouldprecipitate the conflict, and when, well nigh panic-stricken lest hiscollusion with Ames and his powerful clique of Wall Street becomeknown through the exasperation of the latter over the long delay, hehad resolved to pit Don Mario against Josè in distant Simití, and, inthat unknown, isolated spot, where close investigation would never bemade, apply the torch to the waiting combustibles, that Josè saw thedanger which had always hung over him and the girl suddenly descendingupon them and threatening anew the separation which he had everregarded as inevitable, and yet which he had hoped against hope toavoid. 

With the deposition of arms in Simití, and the establishment offederal authority in Don Mario, that always pompous official rose inhis own esteem and in the eyes of a few parasitical attachés to aneminence never before dreamed of by the humble denizens of thismoss-encrusted town. From egotistical, Don Mario became insolent. Fromsluggishness and torpidity of thought and action, he rose suddenlyinto tremendous activity. He was more than once observed by Josè orRosendo emerging hastily from his door and button-holing some one ofthe more influential citizens of the town and excitedly reading to himexcerpts from letters which he had just received from Cartagena. Hemight be seen at any hour of the day in the little _patio_ back of hisstore, busily engaged with certain of the men of the place inexamining papers and documents, talking volubly and with much excitedgesticulation and wild rolling of the eyes. A party seemed to becrystallizing about him. His hitherto uncertain prestige appeared tobe soaring greatly. Men who before made slighting remarks about him, or opposed his administrative acts, were now often seen in earnestconverse with him. His manner toward Josè and Rosendo became that ofutter contempt. He often refused to notice the priest as they passedin the streets. 

Josè's apprehension waxed great. It attained its climax when Rosendocame to him one day to discuss the Alcalde's conduct and the change ofsentiment which seemed to be stealing rapidly over the hearts of thepeople of Simití. 

"Padre, " said the old man in perplexity, "I cannot say what it is, butDon Mario has some scheme in hand, and--and I do not think it is forour good. I cannot get anything out of those with whom he talks socontinually, but Lázaro tells me that--_Bien_, that he learns that DonMario suspects you of--of not belonging to the Church party. "

Josè smiled. Don Mario's suspicions about him had been many andvaried, especially as La Libertad mine had not been discovered. Hesaid as much to Rosendo in reply; and as he did so, he thought the oldman's face took on a queer and unwonted expression. 

"But, Padre, " continued Rosendo at length, "they say that Don Mariohas word from the Bishop that you once wrote a book against the HolyFather--"

"Good God!" The words burst from the priest's lips like the suddenissuance of pent steam. Rosendo stared at him in bewilderment. 

"Rosendo!" gasped Josè. "How know you that?"

"_Caramba_, Padre! it is what Lázaro tells me, " replied the old man, his own suspicion verging upon conviction. 

Josè's dark face became almost white, and his breath sobbed out ingasps. A vague idea of the game Wenceslas was playing now stolethrough his throbbing brain. That book, his Nemesis, his pursuingFate, had tracked him to this secluded corner of the earth, and in thehands of the most unscrupulous politician of South America was beingused as a tool. But, precisely to what end, his wild thought did notas yet disclose. Still, above the welter of it all, he saw clearlythat there must be no further delay on his part. Before he couldspeak, however, Rosendo had resumed the conversation. 

"Padre, " he said, "had it occurred to you that you were watched, dayand night?"

"No--heavens!" Josè had not suspected such a thing. 

"It is so, Padre. Don Mario's men keep you in sight during the day;and at night there is always some one hovering near your house. Youcould not escape now even if you would. "

Josè sank back in his chair limp and cold. His frenzied brain held butone thought: he had delayed until too late--and the end was at hand!

"Padre, " said Rosendo earnestly, "tell me about that book. You didwrite it? And against the Holy Father? But--you still say the Mass. You have not brought Carmen up in the Church. But it was I who toldyou not to--that her heart was her church, and it must not bedisturbed. But--is it true, as the people say, that you really belongto the party that would destroy the Church?"

Then Josè collected himself. While his heart burned within his breast, he opened its portals and revealed to Rosendo all that lay within. Beginning with his boyhood, he drew his career out before thewondering eyes of the old man down to the day when the culmination ofcarnal ambition, false thought, perverted concepts of filial devotionand sacredness of oath, of family honor and pride of race, had washedhim up against the dreary shores of Simití. With no thought ofconcealment, he exposed his ambition in regard to Carmen--even thelove for her that he knew must die of inanition--and ended by throwinghimself without reserve upon Rosendo's judgment. When the tenserecital was ended, Rosendo leaned over and clasped the priest'strembling hand. 

"I understand, Padre, " he said gently. "I am dull of wit, I know. Andyou have often laughed at my superstitions and old family beliefs, whether religious or otherwise. They are strange--I admit that. And Ishall die in the Church, and take my chances on the future, for I havetried to live a good life. But--with a man like you--I understand. Andnow, Padre, we have no time to be sorrowful. We must be up and doing. We are like fish in a net. But--my life is yours. And both areCarmen's, is it not so? Thanks be to the good Virgin, " he muttered, as he walked slowly away, "that Lázaro got those titles from Don Marioto-day!"

 * * * * *

Nightfall brought an unexpected visitor in the person of Don Jorge, who had returned from the remoter parts of the Guamocó region. 

"_Bien_, and what news?" he called cheerily, as he strode into theparish house, where Rosendo and Josè were in earnest conversation. 

Josè embraced him as a brother, while a great sense of relief stoleover him. Then he quickly made known to him the situation. 

Don Jorge whistled softly. He ceased his task of scraping the cakedmud from his bare limbs, and drew up a chair near Josè. 

"So you wrote a book, no? And rapped the sacred priesthood? _Hombre_!That is good! I never did think you a real priest. But, _amigo_, lendme a copy, for I doubt not it is most excellent reading, and willserve to while away many a weary hour in the jungle. " His eyes snappedmerrily, and he slapped Josè roundly upon the back when he finishedspeaking. 

"But, " he continued more seriously, "things seem to be setting againstyou, friend. However, let me but canvass the town to-morrow, and byevening I can advise. _Caramba_! this old hole a military depot! Whowould have thought it! And yet--and yet--I wonder why the Governorsends arms here. _Bien_, we shall see. "

Don Jorge needed not a full day to correctly estimate the situation inSimití. His bluff, hearty manner and genial good-nature constituted apassport to every house, and by midday he had talked with nearly everyman in the _pueblo_. He called Josè and Rosendo for consultationduring the _siesta_. 

"_Bien_, " he said, when they were seated in the parish house, "DonMario without doubt descends from the very serpent that tempted ourmother Eve! He has become a person of considerable importance sincethe Governor and Don Wenceslas strive with each other to rest theirauthority and confidence in him. And, unless I mistake much, they havehim slated for important work. However that may be, the man alreadyhas a large following. Moreover, he has them well poisoned againstyou, _amigo_ Josè. They know more details about your book and yourlife before coming to Simití than do you. _Bien_, you must counteractthe Alcalde's influence by a public statement. It must be to-night--inthe church! You will have to act quickly, for the old fox has youpicked for trouble! Diego's disappearance, you know; the girl, Carmen;your rather foolish course here--it is all laid up against you, friend, and you must meet it!"

Josè assented. Don Jorge went out and summoned the town to a meetingin the church that evening. Immediately Don Mario issued a mandateforbidding a public gathering at a time of such stress. The peoplebegan to assemble on the street corners and in front of their housesto discuss the situation. Their talk became loud and animated. Threatswere heard. The people were becoming divided. Don Jorge waseverywhere, and none could talk so volubly nor gesticulate andexpectorate so vehemently as he. 

At sundown the people moved toward the _plaza_. Then the concoursedrifted slowly into the church. Don Jorge dragged Josè from the parishhouse and up to the altar. "You have got to divide them, Padre!" hewhispered excitedly. "Your only hope now lies in the formation of yourown party to oppose the Alcalde! Talk to them as you never talkedbefore! Say all that you had stored up to say on Judgment Day!"

Again, as Josè faced his little flock and saw them, bare of feet, scantily clad in their simple cotton and calico, their faces set indeep seriousness, the ludicrous side of the whole situation flashedbefore him, and he almost laughed aloud at the spectacle which theancient, decayed town at that moment presented. These primitivefolk--they were but children, with all a child's simplicity of nature, its petulance, its immaturity of view, and its sudden and unreasoningacceptance of authority! He turned to the altar and took up a tallbrass crucifix. He held it out before him for a moment. Then he calledupon the Christ to witness to the truth of what he was about to say. 

A hush fell over the assembly. Even Don Mario seemed to become calmafter that dramatic spectacle. Then Josè spoke. He talked long andearnestly. He knew not that such eloquence abode within him. Hisdeclamation became more and more impassioned. He opened wide his heartand called upon all present to look fearlessly within. Yes, he hadwritten the book in question. But its publication was unfortunate. Yes, it had expressed his views at that time. But now--ah, now!

He stopped and looked about the church. The shadows were gatheringthick, and the smoking kerosene lamps battled vainly with the heavyblackness. In a far corner of the room he saw Carmen and Ana. Rosendosat stolidly beside them. The sightless babe waved its tiny hands inmute helplessness, while Doña Maria held it closely to her bosom. Carmen's last admonition sang in his ears. He must know--really_know_--that the babe could see! He must know that God was omnipotent!His appeal to the people was not for himself. He cared not whatbecame of him. But Carmen--and now Ana and the blind babe--and thecalm, unimpassioned Doña Maria, the embodiment of all that wasgreatest in feminine character--and Rosendo, waiting to lay down hislife for those he loved! And then, this people, soon, he felt, to beshattered by the shock of war--ah, God above! what could he say thatmight save them? If they could know, as Carmen did, if they could loveand trust as she did, would the hideous spectre of war ever stalkamong them? Could the world know, and love, and trust as did this fairchild, would it waste itself in useless wars, sink with famine andpestilence, consume with the anguish of fear, and in the end bury itsblasted hopes in the dank, reeking tomb? The thought gave wings to hisvoice, soul to his words. For hours the people sat spellbound. 

Then he finished. He raised his hands in benediction. And, while theholy hush remained upon the people, he descended the altar steps, hisframe still tremulous with the vehemence of his appeal, and went aloneto his house. 

CHAPTER 32

Dawn had scarcely reddened in the east when a number of men assembledat Josè's door. 

"You have turned the trick, _amigo_, " said Don Jorge, rousing up fromhis _petate_ on the floor beside the priest's bed. "You have won overa few of them, at least. "

Josè went out to meet the early callers. 

"We come to say, Padre, " announced Andres Arellano, the dignifiedspokesman, "that we have confidence in your words of last night. Wesuspect Don Mario, even though he has letters from the Bishop. We areyour men, and we would keep the war away from Simití. "

There were five of them, strong of heart and brawny of arm. "And therewill be more, Padre, " added Andres, reading the priest's question inhis appraising glance. 

Thus was the town divided; and while many clung to the Alcalde, partlythrough fear of offending the higher ecclesiastical authority, andpartly because of imagined benefits to be gained, others, and a goodlynumber, assembled at Josè's side, and looked to him to lead them inthe crisis which all felt to be at hand. As the days passed, thepriest's following grew more numerous, until, after the lapse of aweek, the town stood fairly divided. Don Jorge announced his intentionof remaining in Simití for the present. 

From the night of the meeting in the church excitement ran continuouslyhigher. Business was at length suspended; the fishermen forgot theirnets; and the limber tongues of the town gossips steadily increasedtheir clatter. Don Mario's store and _patio_ assumed the functions ofa departmental office. Daily he might be seen laboriously draftingletters of incredible length and wearisome prolixity to acting-BishopWenceslas; and nightly he was engaged in long colloquies and whisperedconferences with Don Luis and others of his followers and hangers-on. The government arms had been brought up from Bodega Central and storedin an empty warehouse belonging to Don Felipe Alcozer to await furtherdisposition. 

But with the arrival of the arms, and of certain letters which DonMario received from Cartagena, the old town lost its calm ofcenturies, not to recover it again for many a dreary day. By the timeits peace was finally restored, it had received a blow from which itnever recovered. And many a familiar face, too, had disappearedforever from its narrow streets. 

Meanwhile, Josè and his followers anxiously awaited the turn ofevents. It came at length, and in a manner not wholly unexpected. TheAlcalde in his voluminous correspondence with Wenceslas had notfailed to bring against Josè every charge which his unduly stimulatedbrain could imagine. But in particular did he dwell upon thepriest's malign influence upon Carmen, whose physical beauty andpowers of mind were the marvel of Simití. He hammered upon thiswith an insistence that could not but at length again attract thethought of the acting-Bishop, who wrote finally to Don Mario, expressing the mildly couched opinion that, now that his attentionhad been called again to the matter, Carmen should have the benefitsof the education and liberal training which a convent would afford. 

Don Mario's egotism soared to the sky. The great Bishop was actuallybeing advised by him! _Hombre_! Where would it not end! He would yetremove to a larger town, perhaps Mompox, and, with the support of thegreat ecclesiastic, stand for election to Congress! He would show theBishop what mettle he had in him. _Hombre_! And first he would showHis Grace how a loyal servant could anticipate his master's wishes. Hesummoned Fernando, and imperiously bade him bring the girl Carmen atonce. 

But Fernando returned, saying that Rosendo refused to give up thechild. Don Mario then ordered Rosendo's arrest. But Fernando found itimpossible to execute the commission. Josè and Don Jorge stood withRosendo, and threatened to deal harshly with the constable should heattempt to take Carmen by force. Fernando then sought to impress uponthe Alcalde the danger of arousing public opinion again over thegirl. 

Don Mario's wrath burst forth like an exploding bomb. He seized hisstraw hat and his cane, the emblem of his office, and strode to thehouse of Rosendo. His face grew more deeply purple as he went. At thedoor of the house he encountered Josè and Don Jorge. 

"Don Mario, " began Josè, before the Alcalde could get his wordsshaped, "it is useless. Carmen remains with us. We will defend herwith our lives. Be advised, Don Mario, for the consequences ofthoughtless action may be incalculable!"

"_Caramba_!" bellowed the irate official, "but, cow-face! do you knowthat His Grace supports me? That I but execute his orders? _Diosarriba_! if you do not at once deliver to me your paramour--"

He got no further. Rosendo, who had been standing just within thedoor, suddenly pushed Josè and Don Jorge aside and, stalking out, atower of flesh, confronted the raging Alcalde. For a moment he gazeddown into the pig-eyes of the man. Then, with a quick thrust of histhick arm, he projected his huge fist squarely into Don Mario'sbloated face. The Alcalde went down like a shot. 

Neither Josè nor Don Jorge, as they rushed in between Rosendo and hisfallen adversary, had any adequate idea of the consequences of the oldman's precipitate action. As they assisted the prostrate official tohis unsteady feet they knew not that to Rosendo, simple, peace-loving, and great of heart, had fallen the lot to inaugurate hostilities inthe terrible anticlerical war which now for four dismal years was totear Colombia from end to end, and leave her prostrate and exhaustedat last, her sons decimated, her farms and industries ruined, and herneck beneath the heavy heel of a military despot at Bogotá, whosepliant hand would still be guided by the astute brain of Rome. 

By the time the startled Alcalde had been set again upon his feet aconsiderable concourse had gathered at the scene. Many stood inwide-eyed horror at what had just occurred. Others broke into loud andwild talk. The crowd rapidly grew, and in a few minutes the _plaza_was full. Supporters of both sides declaimed and gesticulatedvehemently. In the heat of the arguments a blow was struck. Thenanother. The Alcalde, when he found his tongue, shrilly demanded thearrest of Rosendo and his family, including the priest and Don Jorge. A dozen of his party rushed forward to execute the order. Rosendo hadslipped between Josè and Don Jorge and into his house. In a trice heemerged with a great _machete_. The people about him fell back. Hiseyes blazed like live coals, and his breath seemed to issue from hisdilating nostrils like clouds of steam. To approach him meant instantdeath. Don Jorge crept behind him and, gaining the house, collectedthe terrified women and held them in readiness for flight. Juan, Lázaro, and a number of others surrounded Josè and faced the angrymultitude. 

The strain was broken by the frenzied Alcalde, who rushed towardRosendo. The old man swung his enormous _machete_ with a swirl that, had it met the official, would have clean decapitated him. But, fortunately, one of the priest's supporters threw out his foot, andthe corpulent Alcalde fell heavily over it and bit the dust. Josèthrew himself upon Rosendo. The old man staggered with the shock andgave way. The priest turned to the excited crowd. Holding up bothhands high above his head, he sent out his voice clear and loud. 

"Children! In the name of the Church! In the name of the Christ! Theblessed Virgin--"

"What know you of the blessed Virgin, priest of Satan?" shouted arough follower of the Alcalde. 

"Aye!" yelled another. "Writer of foul books! Seducer of younggirls!"

Julio Gomez stooped and took up a large piece of shale. He threw itwith all his force, just as the priest again strove to make his voiceheard above the din. It struck Josè full on the forehead. The jaggedstone cut deeply, and the red blood spurted. Josè fell into the armsof Lázaro and was dragged into the house. 

Then Rosendo, with a mad yell, plunged wildly into the crowd. A dozenarms sought to hold him, but in vain. Julio saw the terrifyingapparition hurtling down upon him. He turned and fled, but not beforethe great knife had caught him on its point as it swung down andripped a deep gash the full length of his naked back. 

Then the last vestige of reason fled from the mob, and chaos took thereins. Back and forth through the _plaza_, in front of the churchwhere hung the image of the Prince of Peace, the maddened peoplesurged, fighting like demons, raining blows with clubs, fists, and_machetes_, stabbing with their long, wicked knives, hurling sharpstones, gouging, ripping, yelling, shrieking, calling upon Saints andVirgin to curse their enemies and bless their blows. Over the heads ofthem all towered the mighty frame of Rosendo. Back before hismurderous _machete_ fell the terrified combatants. His course amongthem was that of a cannon ball. Dozens hung upon his arms, hisshoulders, or flung themselves about his great legs. His huge body, slippery and reeking, was galvanized into energy incarnate. Sparksseemed to flash from his eyes. His breath turned to livid flame. Behind him, following in the swath which he cut, his supporterscrowded, fought and yelled. Don Mario's forces gave way. They cursed, broke, and fled. Then Don Jorge, a man whose mortal strength was morethan common, threw himself upon the steaming, frenzied Rosendo andstopped his mad progress. 

"Rosendo--_amigo! Caramba!_ Listen! They are fleeing to the _bodega_to get the rifles and ammunition! Come--_Dios arriba_! Come!"

Cut, bruised, and dripping blood from a dozen wounds, Rosendo stoodfor a moment blinking in confusion. A score lay on the ground abouthim. Whether dead or wounded, he knew not, nor cared. The sight of DonMario's supporters in full flight fascinated him. He broke into achuckle. It sounded like the gloating of an imp of Satan. Then theforce of Don Jorge's words smote him. 

"_Caramba_! They will return with the rifles!" he panted. "What shallwe do?"

"Come! We must lose no time!" cried Don Jorge, pulling him toward thehouse. Those of the priest's other followers who were still wholescattered wildly to their homes and barred their doors. There theysearched for knives, _machetes_, razors, any tool or instrument thatmight be pressed into service as a weapon, and stood guard. Onefrenzied fellow, the sole possessor of an antiquated shotgun, projected the rusty arm from a hole in the wall of his mud hut andblazed away down the deserted street indiscriminately and withoutaim. 

Within the house Juan and Lázaro were supporting the dazed Josè, whileDoña Maria bathed and bound his wound. Carmen stood gazing upon thescene in bewilderment. The precipitousness of the affair had taken herbreath away and driven all thought in mad rout from her mind. 

"_Amigos_!" panted Don Jorge, "the church--it is the only place nowthat is even fairly safe! Doña Maria, do you collect all the food inthe house! We know not how long we may be prisoners--"

"But--Don Jorge, " interrupted Josè feebly, "they will attack us eventhere! Let us flee--"

"Where, _amigo_? To the Guamocó trail? Caramba! they would shoot usdown in cold blood! _Hombre_! There is no place but the church! Thatwill hold some of them back, at any rate! And none of them, if theyget crazed with _anisado_! But it is the only place now! Come!"

"_Hombre_!" cried Rosendo, starting for the door, "but do you, Juanand Lázaro, follow me with your _machetes_, and we will drive thecowards from the _bodega_ and get the rifles ourselves!"

"No, _amigo_! Impossible! By this time they have broken open the boxesand loaded the guns. A shot--and it would be all over with you! But inthe church--you have a chance there!"

Don Jorge seized his arm and dragged him out of the house and acrossthe deserted _plaza_. Juan and Lázaro helped Doña Maria gather whatfood and water remained in the house; and together they hurried outand over to the church. Swinging open the heavy wooden doors, theyentered and made them fast again. Then they sank upon the benches andstrove to realize their situation. 

But Don Jorge suddenly sprang to his feet. "The windows!" he cried. 

Juan and Lázaro hurried to them and swung the wooden shutters. 

"There is no way of holding them!" cried Juan in dismay. 

"_Caramba_!" muttered Rosendo, seizing a bench and with one blow ofhis _machete_ splitting it clean through, "these will make props tohold them!"

It was the work of but a few minutes to place benches across the thickshutters and secure them with others placed diagonally against themand let into the hard dirt floor. The same was done with the doors. Then the little group huddled together and waited. Josè heard a sobbeside him, and a hand clutched his in the gloom. It was Carmen. Inthe excitement of the hour he had all but forgotten her. Through hispresent confusion of thought a great fact loomed: as the girl clung tohim she was weeping!

A low rumble drifted to them; a confusion of voices, growing louder;and then a sharp report. 

"They are coming, Padre, " muttered Rosendo. "And some one has triedhis rifle!"

A moment later the ruck poured into the _plaza_ and made for Rosendo'shouse. Don Mario, holding his cane aloft like a sword, was at theirhead. Raging with disappointment at not finding the fugitives in thehouse, they threw the furniture and kitchen utensils madly about, punched great holes through the walls, and then rushed pellmell to theparish house next door. A groan escaped Josè as he watched themthrough a chink in the shutters. His books and papers! His notes andwritings!

But as the howling mob streamed toward the parish house a wrinkledold crone shrilled at them from across the way and pointed toward thechurch. 

"In there, _amigos_!" she screamed. "I saw them enter! Shootthem--they have hurt my Pedro!"

Back like a huge wave the crowd flowed, and up against the churchdoors. Don Mario, at the head of his valiant followers, held up hishand for silence. Then, planting himself before the main doors of thechurch, he loudly voiced his authority. 

"In the name of the Government at Bogotá!" he cried pompously, tappingthe doors with his light cane. Then he turned quickly. "Fernando, " hecalled, "run to my house and fetch the drum!"

Despite the seriousness of their situation, Josè smiled at thepuppet-show being enacted without. 

The Alcalde reiterated his demands with truculent vanity. "Open! Inthe name of the Government! I am the law!"

Don Jorge groaned aloud. "_Caramba!_ if I but had him in here alone!"

Don Mario waited a few moments. Then, as no response came from within, his anger began to soar. "_Caramba!_" he cried, "but you defy thelaw?"

Angry mutterings rose from the crowd. Some one suggested burning thebuilding. Another advised battering in the doors. A third intimatedthat shooting them full of holes were better. This idea, once voiced, spread like an infection. The childish people were eager to try therifles. 

"Shoot the doors down! Shoot them down, Don Mario!" yelled the mob. 

The Alcalde threw himself heavily up against the doors. "_Caramba!_"he shrilled. "Fools! Demons! Open!--or it will be the worse for you!"

Josè decided that their silence should no longer exasperate the angryman. He put his mouth to the crevice between the doors. 

"Don Mario, " he cried, "this is sacred ground! The Host is exposed onthe altar. Take your mob away. Disperse, and we will come out. We maysettle this trouble amicably, if you will but listen to reason. "

The Alcalde jumped up and down in his towering wrath. "Puppy-face!" hescreamed, "but I am the law--I am the Government! A curse upon you, priest of Satan! Will you unbar these doors?"

"No!" replied Josè. "And if you attack us you attack the Church!"

"A curse on the Church! _Amigos!_ _Muchachos!_" he bawled, turning tothe mob, "we will batter down the doors!"

The crowd surged forward again. But the props held firm. Again andagain the mob hurled itself upon the thick doors. They bent, theysagged, but they held. Don Mario became apoplectic. A torrent ofanathemas streamed from his thick lips. 

"The side door!" some one shouted, recovering a portion of his scantwit. 

"Aye--and the door of the _sacristía_!"

"Try the windows!"

Round the building streamed the crazed mob, without head, withoutreason, lusting only for the lives of the frightened little bandhuddled together in the gloom within. Josè kept an arm about Carmen. Ana bent sobbing over her tiny babe. Don Jorge and Rosendo remainedmute and grim. Josè knew that those two would cast a long reckoningbefore they died. Juan and Lázaro went from door to window, steadyingthe props and making sure that they were holding. The tough, hard, tropical wood, though pierced in places by _comjejen_ ants, wasresisting. 

The sun was already high, and the _plaza_ had become a furnace. Thepatience of the mob quickly evaporated in the ardent heat. Don Mario'swits had gone completely. Revenge, mingled with insensate zeal tomanifest the authority which he believed his intercourse withWenceslas had greatly augmented, had driven all rationality from hismotives. Flaming anger had unseated his reason. Descending from theplatform on which stood the church, he blindly drew up his armedfollowers and bade them fire upon the church doors. 

If Wenceslas, acting-Bishop by the grace of political machination, could have witnessed the stirring drama then in progress in ancientSimití, he would have laughed aloud at the complete fulfillment of hiscarefully wrought plans. The cunning of the shrewd, experiencedpolitician had never been more clearly manifested than in the carryingout of the little program which he had set for the unwise Alcalde ofthis almost unknown little town, whereby the hand of Congress shouldbe forced and the inevitable revolt inaugurated. Don Mario had seizedthe government arms, the deposition of which in Simití in his care hadconstituted him more than ever the representative of federalauthority. But, in his wild zeal, he had fallen into the trap whichWenceslas had carefully arranged for him, and now was engaged in a madattack upon the Church itself, upon ecclesiastical authority as vestedin the priest Josè. How could Wenceslas interpret this but as ananticlerical uprising? There remained but the final scene. And whilethe soft-headed dupes and maniacal supporters of Don Mario werehurling bullets into the thick doors of the old church in Simití, Wenceslas sat musing in his comfortable study in the cathedral ofCartagena, waiting with what patience he could command for furtherreports from Don Mario, whose last letter had informed him that thearrest of the priest Josè and his unfortunate victim, Carmen, was onlya few hours off. 

When the first shots rang out, and the bullets ploughed into the hardwood of the heavy doors, Josè's heart sank, and he gave himself up aslost. Lázaro and Juan cowered upon the floor. Carmen crept close toJosè, as he sat limply upon a bench, and put her arms about him. 

"Padre dear, " she whispered, "it isn't true--it isn't true! They don'treally want to kill us! They don't--really! Their thoughts have onlythe minus sign!"

The priest clasped her to his breast. The recriminating thoughtflashed over him that he alone was the cause of this. He hadsacrificed them all--none but he was to blame. Ah, God above! if hecould only offer himself to satiate the mob's lust, and save theseinnocent ones! Lurid, condemnatory thoughts burned through his brainlike molten iron. He rose hastily and rushed to the door. Rosendo andDon Jorge seized him as he was about to lift a prop. 

"What do you mean, Padre?" they exclaimed. 

"I am going out, friends--I shall give myself to them for you all. Itis the only way. I am the one they seek. Let them have me, if theywill spare you!"

But the firing had ceased, and Don Mario was approaching the door. Josè bent down and called to him. "Myself for the others, Don Mario!"he cried. "But promise to spare them--but give me your word--and Iwill yield myself to arrest!"

"_Caramba_, fool priest!" shouted the Alcalde in derision. "It is notyou that the good Bishop wants, but the girl! I have his lettersdemanding that I send her to him! If you will come out, you shall notbe hurt. Only, Rosendo must stand trial for the harm he did in thefight this morning; and the girl must go to Cartagena. As for the restof you, you will be free. Are the terms not reasonable? Give me youranswer in five minutes. "

Josè turned to the little band. There was awful determination in hisvoice. "Juan and Lázaro, " he said, "we will open a window quickly inthe rear of the church and let you out. It is not right that youshould die with us. And Don Jorge, too--"

"Stop there, _amigo!_" interrupted the latter in a voice as cold assteel. "My life has not the value of a white heron. Can I do betterthan give it for a cause that I know to be right? Nay, man, I remainwith you. Let the lads go, if they will--"

Lázaro forced himself between Don Jorge and the priest. "Padre, " hesaid quietly, "to you I owe what I am. I remain here. "

Josè looked through the gloom at Juan. The boy's eyes were fixed onCarmen. He turned and gazed for a moment at a window, as if hesitatingbetween two decisions. Then he shook his head slowly. "Padre, " hesaid, though his voice trembled, "I, too, remain. "

The Alcalde received his answer with a burst of inarticulate rage. Herushed back to his followers with his arms waving wildly. "Shoot!" hescreamed. "Shoot! Pierce the doors! Batter them down! _Compadres_, getthe poles and burst in the shutters. _Caramba!_ it is the Governmentthey are defying!"

A volley from the rifles followed his words. The thick doors shookunder the blast. A bullet pierced the wall and whizzed past Carmen. Josè seized the girl and drew her down under a bench. The startledbats among the roof beams fluttered wildly about through the heavygloom. Frightened rats scurried around the altar. The rusty bell inthe tower cried out as if in protest against the sacrilege. Juan burstinto tears and crept beneath a bench. 

"Padre, " said Rosendo, "it is only a question of time when the doorswill fall. See--that bullet went clean through! _Bien_, let us placethe women back of the altar, while we men stand here at one side ofthe doors, so that when they fall we may dash out and cut our waythrough the crowd. If we throw ourselves suddenly upon them, we maysnatch away a rifle or two. Then Don Jorge and I, with the lads here, may drive them back--perhaps beat them! But my first blow shall be forDon Mario! I vow here that, if I escape this place, he shall not liveanother hour!"

"Better so, Rosendo, than that they should take us alive. But--Carmen?Do we leave her to fall into Don Mario's hands?"

Rosendo's voice, low and cold, froze the marrow in the priest's bones. "Padre, she will not fall into the Alcalde's hands. "

"God above! Rosendo, do you--"

A piercing cry checked him. "_Santa Virgen! Padre--!_" Lázaro hadcollapsed upon the floor. Rosendo and Josè hurried to him. 

"Padre!" The man's breath came in gasps. "Padre--I confess--pray forme. It struck me--here!" He struggled to lay a hand upon his bleedingbreast. 

"To the altar, _amigos_!" cried Don Jorge, ducking his head as abullet sang close to it. 

Seizing the expiring Lázaro, they hurriedly dragged him down the aisleand took refuge back of the brick altar. The bullets, now piercing thewalls of the church with ease, whizzed about them. One struck thependant figure of the Christ, and it fell crashing to the floor. Rosendo stood in horror, as if he expected a miracle to follow thisact of sacrilege. 

"Oh, God!" prayed Josè, "only Thy hand can save us!"

"He will save us, Padre--He will!" cried Carmen, creeping closer tohim through the darkness. "God is everywhere, and right here!"

"Padre, " said Don Jorge hurriedly, "the Host--is it on the altar?"

"Yes--why?" replied the priest. 

"Then, when the doors fall, do you stand in front of the altar, holding it aloft and calling on the people to stand back, lest thehand of God strike them!"

Josè hesitated not. "It is a chance--yes, a bare chance. They willstop before it--or they will kill me! But I will do it!"

"Padre! You shall not--Padre! Then I shall stand with you!" Carmen'svoice broke clear and piercing through the din. Josè struggled to freehimself from her. 

"_Na_, Padre, " interposed Rosendo, "it may be better so! Let her standwith you! But--_Caramba_! Make haste!"

The clamor without increased. Heavy poles and billets of wood had beenfetched, and blow after blow now fell upon every shutter and door. Thesharp spitting of the rifles tore the air, and bullets crashed throughthe walls and windows. In the heavy shadows back of the altar Rosendoand Don Jorge crouched over the sobbing women. Lázaro lay very still. Josè knew as he stretched out a hand through the darkness and touchedthe cold face that the faithful spirit had fled. How soon his ownwould follow he knew not, nor cared. Keeping close to the floor, hecrept out and around to the front of the altar. Reaching up, hegrasped the Sacred Host, and then stood upright, holding it out beforehim. Carmen rose by his side and took his hand. Together in the gloomthey waited. 

CHAPTER 33

"Padre! Padre! are you alive?"

Rosendo's hoarse whisper drifted across the silence like a wraith. Hecrept out and along the floor, scarce daring to look up. Through thedarkness his straining eyes caught the outlines of the two figuresstanding like statues before the altar. 

"_Loado sea Dios!_" he cried, and his voice broke with a sob. "But, Padre, they have stopped--what has happened?"

"I know not, _amigo_. Be patient. We are in the hands of God--"

"Padre--listen!" Carmen darted from the altar and ran to the door. "Padre!" she called back. "Come! Some one is speaking English!"

Josè and Rosendo hurried to the door. All was quiet without, but foran animated conversation between Don Mario and some strangers who hadevidently just arrived upon the scene. One of the latter was speakingwith the Alcalde in excellent Spanish. Another, evidently unacquaintedwith the language, made frequent interruptions in the English tongue. Josè's heart beat wildly. 

"Say, Reed, " said the voice in English, "tell the parchment-faced oldbuzzard that we appreciate the little comedy he has staged for us. Tell him it is bully-bueno, but he must not overdo it. We are plumdone up, and want a few days of rest. "

"What says the señor, _amigo_?" asked Don Mario, with his utmostsuavity and unction of manner. 

"He says, " returned the other in Spanish, "that he is delighted withthe firmness which you display in the administration of your office, and that he trusts the bandits within the church may be speedilyexecuted. "

"Bandits!" ejaculated Don Mario. "Just so, _amigo_! They are those whodefy the Government as represented by myself!" He straightened up andthrew out his chest with such an exhibition of importance that thestrangers with difficulty kept their faces straight. 

Carmen and Josè looked at each other in amazement during thiscolloquy. 

"Padre!" exclaimed the girl. "Do all who speak English tell suchlies?"

"Ah!" murmured the one addressed as Reed, directing himself to theAlcalde, "how dared they! But, señor, my friend and I have come toyour beautiful city on business of the utmost importance, in whichyou doubtless will share largely. I would suggest, " looking withamusement at the array of armed men about him, "that your prisonersare in no immediate likelihood of escaping, and you might leave themunder close guard while we discuss our business. A--a--we hearreports, señor, that there is likely to be trouble in the country, andwe are desirous of getting out as soon as possible. "

"_Cierto! Cierto, señores!_" exclaimed Don Mario, bowing low. "Itshall be as you say. " Turning to the gaping people, he selectedseveral to do guard duty, dismissed the others, and then bade thestrangers follow him to his house, which, he declared vehemently, wastheirs as long as they might honor him with their distinguishedpresence. 

The sudden turn of events left the little group within the church in amaze of bewilderment. They drew together in the center of the room andtalked in low whispers until the sun dropped behind the hills andnight drifted through the quiet streets. Late that evening came atapping at the rear door of the church, and a voice called softly tothe priest. Josè roused out of his gloomy revery and hastened toanswer it. 

"It is Fernando, Padre. I am on guard; but no one must know that Italk with you. But--Padre, if you open the door and escape, I will notsee you. I am sorry, Padre, but it could not be helped. Don Mario hasus all frightened, for the Bishop--"

"True, _amigo_, " returned Josè; "but the strangers who arrived thisafternoon--who are they, and whence?"

"Two _Americanos_, Padre, and miners. "

Josè studied a moment. "Fernando--you would aid me? _Bien_, get wordto the stranger who speaks both English and Spanish. Bring him here, secretly, and stand guard yourself while I talk with him. "

"Gladly, Padre, " returned the penitent fellow, as he hastened quietlyaway. 

An hour later Josè was again roused by Fernando tapping on the door. 

"Open, Padre. Fear not; only the _Americano_ will enter. Don Mariodoes not know. "

Josè lifted the prop and swung the door open. Rosendo stood withuplifted _machete_. A man entered from the blackness without. Josèquickly closed the door, and then addressed him in English. 

"Great Scott!" exclaimed the stranger in a mellow voice. "I had noidea I should find any one in this God-forsaken town who could speakreal United States!"

Josè drew him into the _sacristía_. Neither man could see the other inthe dense blackness. 

"Tell me, friend, " began Josè, "who you are, and where you comefrom. "

"Reed--Charles Reed--New York--mining engineer--down here to examinethe so-called mines of the Molino Company, now gasping its last whileawaiting our report. Arrived this afternoon from Badillo with mypartner, fellow named Harris. But--great heavens, man! you certainlywere in a stew when we appeared! And why don't you escape now?"

"Escape, friend? Where? Even if we passed the guard, where would wego? There are two women, a girl, and a babe with us. We have littlefood and no money. Should we gain the Boque or Guamocó trail, we wouldbe pursued and shot down. There is a chance here--none in flight!

"But now, Mr. Reed, " continued Josè earnestly, "will you get word fromme to the Bishop in Cartagena that our church has been attacked--thatits priest is besieged by the Alcalde, and his life in jeopardy?"

"Assuredly--but how?"

"You have money?" said Josè, speaking rapidly. "Good. Your _bogas_have not returned to Badillo?"

"No, they are staying here for the big show. Execution of thetraitors, you know. "

"Then, friend, send them at dawn to Bodega Central. Let them take amessage to be sent by the telegraph from that place. Tell theBishop--"

"Sure!" interrupted the other. "Leave it to me. I'll fix up a messagethat will bring him by return boat! I've been talking with theHonorable Alcalde and I've got his exact number. Say, he certainly isthe biggest damn--beg pardon; I mean, the biggest numbskull I haveever run across--and that's saying considerable for a mining man!"

"Go, friend!" said Josè, making no other reply to the man's words. "Goquickly--and use what influence you have with the Alcalde to save us. We have women here--and a young girl!" He found the American's handand led him out into the night. 

 * * * * *

Wenceslas Ortiz stood before the Departmental Governor. His face wasdeeply serious, and his demeanor expressed the utmost gravity. In hishand he held a despatch. The Governor sat at his desk, nervouslyfumbling a pen. 

"_Bien, Señor_, " said Wenceslas quietly, "do you act--or shall I takeit to His Excellency, the President?"

The Governor moved uneasily in his chair. "_Caramba!_" he blurted out. "The report is too meager! And yet, I cannot see but that the Alcaldeacted wholly within his rights!"

"Your Excellency, he seizes government arms--he attacks the church--heattempts to destroy the life of its priest. Nominally acting for theGovernment; at heart, anticlerical. Is it not evident? Will theGovernment clear itself now of the suspicion which this has aroused?"

"But the priest--did you not say only last week that he himself hadpublished a book violently anticlerical in tone?"

"Señor, we will not discuss the matter further, " said Wenceslas, moving toward the door. "Your final decision--you will send troops toSimití, or no?"

"Certainly not! The evidence warrants no interference from me!"

Wenceslas courteously bowed himself out. Once beyond the door, hebreathed a great sigh of relief. "_Santa Virgen!_" he muttered, "but Itook a chance! Had he yielded and sent troops, all would have beenspoiled. Now for Bogotá!"

He entered his carriage and was driven hurriedly to his _sanctum_. There he despatched a long message to the President of the Republic. At noon he had a reply. He mused over it for the space of an hour. Then he framed another despatch. "Your Excellency, " it read, "theChurch supports the Administration. "

Late that evening a second message from Bogotá was put into his hand. He tore it open and read, "The Hercules ordered to Simití. "

"Ah, " he sighed, sinking into his chair. "At last! The Presidentinterferes! And now a wire to Ames. And--_Caramba_, yes! A message tothe captain of the Hercules to bring me that girl!"

 * * * * *

"Well, old man, I've done all I could to stave off the blunderingidiot; but I guess you are in for it! The jig is up, I'm thinking!"

It was Reed talking. Simití again slept, while the American and Josèin the _sacristía_ talked long and earnestly. Fernando kept guard atthe door. The other prisoners lay wrapped in slumber. 

"Your message went down the river two days ago, " continued Reed. "And, believe me! since then I've racked my dusty brain for topics to keepthe Alcalde occupied and forgetful of you. But I'm dryer than a desertnow; and he vows that to-morrow you and your friends will be draggedout of this old shack by your necks, and then shot. "

The two days had been filled with exquisite torture for Josè. Only thepresence of Carmen restrained him from rushing out and ending it all. Her faith had been his constant marvel. Every hour, every moment, sheknew only the immanence of her God; whereas he, obedient to theundulating Rincón character-curve, expressed the mutability of hisfaith in hourly alternations of optimism and black despair. Afterperiods of exalted hope, stimulated by the girl's sublime confidence, there would come the inevitable backward rush of all the chillingfear, despondency, and false thought which he had just expelled invain, and he would be left again floundering helplessly in the dismallabyrinth of terrifying doubts. 

The quiet which enwrapped them during these days of imprisonment; thegloom-shrouded church; the awed hush that lay upon them in thepresence of the dead Lázaro, stimulated the feeble and sensitivespirit of the priest to an unwonted degree of introspection, and hesat for hours gazing blankly into the ghastly emptiness of his past. 

He saw how at the first, when Carmen entered his life with thestimulus of her buoyant faith, there had seemed to follow an emptyingof self, a quick clearing of his mentality, and a replacement of muchof the morbid thought, which clung limpet-like to his mentality, bynew and wonderfully illuminating ideas. For a while he had seemed tobe on the road to salvation; he felt that he had touched the robe ofthe Christ, and heavenly virtue had entered into his being. 

But then the shadows began to gather once more. He did not cling tothe new truths and spiritual ideas tenaciously enough to work them outin demonstration. He had proved shallow soil, whereon the seed hadfallen, only to be choked by the weeds which grew apace therein. Thetroubles which clustered thick about him after his first few months inSimití had seemed to hamper his freer limbs, and check his upwardprogress. Constant conflict with Diego, with Don Mario, and Wenceslas;the pressure from his mother and his uncle, had kept him looking, nowat evil, now at good, giving life and power to each in turn, andwrestling incessantly with the false concepts which his own mentalitykept ever alive. Worrying himself free from one set of human beliefs, he fell again into the meshes of others. Though he thought he knew thetruth--though he saw it lived and demonstrated by Carmen--he had yetbeen afraid to throw himself unreservedly upon his convictions. And sohe daily paid the dire penalty which error failed not to exact. 

But Carmen, the object of by far the greater part of all his anxiousthought, had moved as if in response to a beckoning hand that remainedinvisible to him. Each day she had grown more beautiful. And eachday, too, she had seemed to draw farther away from him, as sherose steadily out of the limited encompassment in which theydwelt. Not by conscious design did she appear to separate from him, but inevitably, because of his own narrow capacity for truespiritual intercourse with such a soul as hers. He shared herideals; he had sought in his way to attain them; he had striven, too, to comprehend her spirit, which in his heart he knew to be abright reflection of the infinite Spirit which is God. But as theyears passed he had found his efforts to be like her more and moreclumsy and blundering, and his responses to her spiritual demands lessand less vigorous. At times he seemed to catch glimpses of hersoul that awed him. At others he would feel himself half inclinedto share the people's belief that she was possessed of powersoccult. And then he would sink into despair of ever understanding thegirl--for he knew that to do so he must be like her, even as tounderstand God we must become like Him. 

After her fourteenth birthday Josè found himself rapidly ceasing toregard Carmen as a mere child. Not that she did not still oftenseem delightfully immature, when her spirits would flow wildly, andshe would draw him into the frolics which had yielded her suchextravagant joy in former days; but that the growth of knowledge andthe rapid development of her thought had seemed to bring to her adeepening sense of responsibility, a growing impression of maturity, and an increasing regard for the meaning of life and her part init. She had ceased to insist that she would never leave Simití. AndJosè often thought of late, as he watched her, that he detectedsigns of irksomeness at the limitations which her environmentimposed upon her. But, if so, these were never openly expressed; nordid her manner ever change toward her foster-parents, or toward thesimple and uncomprehending folk of her native town. 

From the first, Josè had constituted himself her teacher, guide, andprotector. And she had joyously accepted him. His soured andrebellious nature had been no barrier to her great love, which hadtwined about his heart like ivy around a crumbling tower. And his lovefor the child had swelled like a torrent, fed hourly by countlessuncharted streams. He had watched over her like a father; he hadrejoiced to see her bloom into a beauty as rich and luxuriant as thetropical foliage; he had gazed for hours into the unsearchable abyssof her black eyes and read there, in ecstasy, a wondrous response tohis love; and when, but a few short days ago, she had again intimateda future union, a union upon which, even as a child, she had insisted, yet one which he knew--had always known--utterly, extravagantlyimpossible--he had, nevertheless, seized upon the thought with a joythat was passionate, desperate--and had then flung it from him with acry of agony. It was not the disparity of ages; it was not the girl'spresent immaturity. In less than a year she would have attained themarriageable age of these Latin countries. But he could wait two, three, aye, ten years for such a divine gift! No; the shadow which layupon his life was cast by the huge presence of the master whose chainshe wore, the iron links of which, galling his soul, he knew to beunbreakable. And, as he sat in the gloom of the decayed old churchwhere he was now a prisoner, the thought that his situation butsymbolized an imprisonment in bonds eternal roused him to ahalf-frenzied resolve to destroy himself. 

"Padre dear, " the girl had whispered to him that night, just beforethe American came again with his disquieting report, "Love will openthe door--Love will set us free. We are not afraid. Remember, Paulthanked God for freedom even while he sat in chains. And I am just asthankful as he. "

Josè knew as he kissed her tenderly and bade her go to her place ofrest on the bench beside Doña Maria that death stood between her andthe stained hand of Wenceslas Ortiz. 

As morning reddened in the eastern sky Don Mario, surrounded by anarmed guard and preceded by his secretary, who beat lustily upon asmall drum, marched pompously down the main street and across the_plaza_ to the church. Holding his cane aloft he ascended the steps ofthe platform and again loudly demanded the surrender of the prisonerswithin. 

"On what terms, Don Mario?" asked Josè. 

"The same, " reiterated the Alcalde vigorously. 

Josè sighed. "Then we will die, Don Mario, " he replied sadly, movingaway from the door and leading his little band of harried followers tothe rear of the altar. 

The Alcalde quickly descended the steps and shouted numerous orders. Several of his men hurried off in various directions, while thoseremaining at once opened fire upon the church. In a few moments thefiring was increased, and the entire attack was concentrated upon thefront doors. 

The din without became horrible. Shouts and curses filled the morningair. But it was evident to Josè that his besiegers were meeting withno opposition from his own supporters in the fight of two days before. The sight of the deadly rifles in the hands of Don Mario's party hadquickly quenched their loyalty to Josè, and led them basely to abandonhim and his companions to their fate. 

After a few minutes of vigorous assault the attack abruptly ceased, and Josè was called again to the door. 

"It's Reed, " came the American's voice. He spoke in English. "I'vepersuaded the old carrion to let me have a moment's pow-wow with you. Say, give the old buzzard what he wants. Otherwise it's sure death foryou all. I've argued myself sick with him, but he's as set asconcrete. I'll do what I can for you if you come out; but he's goingto have the girl, whether or no. Seems that the Bishop of Cartagenawants her; and the old crow here is playing politics with him. "

"Yes, old man, " chimed in another voice, which Josè knew to be that ofHarris. "You know these fellows are hell on politics. "

"Shut up, Harris!" growled Reed. Then to Josè, "What'll I tell the oldduffer?"

"Lord Harry!" ejaculated Harris, "if I had a couple of Mausers I couldput these ancient Springfields on the bum in a hurry!"

"Tell him, friend, that we are prepared to die, " replied Josèdrearily, as he turned back into the gloom and took Carmen's hand. 

The final assault began, and Josè knew that it was only a question ofminutes when the trembling doors would fall. He crouched with hiscompanions behind the altar, awaiting the inevitable. Carmen held hishand tightly. 

"Love will save us, Padre, " she whispered. "Love them! Love them, Padre! They don't know what is using them--and it has no power! God ishere--is everywhere! Love will save us!"

Rosendo bent over and whispered to Don Jorge, "When the doors fall andthe men rush in, stand you here with me! When they reach the altar wewill throw ourselves upon them, I first, you following, while Juanwill bring Carmen and try to protect her. With our _machetes_ we willcut our way out. If we find that it is hopeless--then give meCarmen!"

A moment later, as with a loud wail, the two front doors burst asunderand fell crashing to the floor. A flood of golden sunlight poured intothe dark room. In its yellow wake rushed the mob, with exultant yells. Rosendo rose quickly and placed himself at the head of his littleband. 

But, ere the first of the frenzied besiegers had crossed the thresholdof the church, a loud cry arose in the _plaza_. 

"The soldiers! _Dios arriba_! The soldiers!"

Down the main thoroughfare came a volley of shots. Don Mario, half waythrough the church door, froze in his tracks. Those of his followerswho had entered, turned quickly and made pellmell for the exit. Theirstartled gaze met a company of federal troops rushing down the street, firing as they came. Don Mario strained after his flying wits. 

"Close the doors!" he yelled. But the doors were prone upon the floor, and could not be replaced. Then he and his men scrambled out andrushed around to one side of the building. As the soldiers camerunning up, the Alcalde's followers fired point blank into theirfaces, then dropped their guns and fled precipitately. 

It was all over in a trice. Within an hour staid old Simití lay in thegrip of martial law, with its once overweening Alcalde, now a meek andfrightened prisoner, arraigned before Captain Morales, holding courtin the shabby town hall. 

But the court-martial was wholly perfunctory. Though none there buthimself knew it, the captain had come with the disposal of theunfortunate Don Mario prearranged. A perfunctory hearing of witnesses, which but increased his approval of his orders, and he pronouncedsentence upon the former Alcalde, and closed the case. 

"Attack upon the church--Assassination of the man Lázaro--Firing uponfederal soldiers--To be shot at sunset, señor, " he concludedsolemnly. 

Don Mario sank to the floor in terror. "_Caramba! caramba_!" hehowled. "But I had letters from the Bishop! I was ordered by him to doit!"

"_Bien_, señor, " replied the captain, whose heart was not whollydevoid of pity, "produce your letters. "

"_Dios arriba_! I burned them! He said I should! I obeyed him!_Caramba_! I am lost--lost!"

"_Señor Capitán_, " interposed Josè, "may I plead for the man? Heis--"

"There, Padre, " returned the captain, holding up a hand, "it isuseless. Doubtless this has been brought about by motives which you donot understand. It is unfortunate--but inevitable. You have a _cárcel_here? _Bien_, " addressing his lieutenant, "remove the prisoner to it, and at sunset let the sentence be carried out. "

Don Mario, screaming with fear, was dragged from the room. 

"And now, señores, " continued the captain calmly, as if nothing out ofthe ordinary had occurred, "I appoint Don Fernando, former secretary, as temporary Alcalde, until such time as the Governor may fill theoffice permanently. And, " he continued, looking about the room with aheavy scowl, while the timid people shrank against the wall, "as forthose misguided ones who took part with Don Mario in this anticlericaluprising--his fate will serve, I think, as a warning!"

A hush of horror lay upon the stunned people as they filed slowly outof the room. 

"_Bien_, " added the captain, addressing Fernando, "quarters for mymen, and rations. We return to the Hercules at daybreak. And let allarms and ammunition be collected. Every house must be searched. And weshall want _peones_ to carry it to the river. "

Josè turned away, sick with the horror of it all. A soldier approachedhim with a message from Don Mario. The condemned man was asking forthe last rites. Faint and trembling, the priest accompanied themessenger to the jail. 

"Padre! _Dios arriba_!" wailed the terrified and bewildered Don Mario. "It was a mistake! Don Wenceslas--"

"Yes, I understand, Don Mario, " interrupted Josè, tenderly taking theman's hand. "He told you to do it. "

"Yes, Padre, " sobbed the unfortunate victim. "He said that I would berich--that I would be elected to Congress--ah, the traitor! And, Padre--I burned his letters because it was his wish! Ah, _SantaVirgen_!" He put his head on the priest's shoulder and weptviolently. 

Josè's heart was wrung; but he was powerless to aid the man. And yet, as he dwelt momentarily on his own sorrows, he almost envied the fatewhich had overtaken the misguided Don Mario. 

The lieutenant entered. "_Señor Padre_, " he said, "the sun is low. Ina quarter of an hour--"

Don Mario sank to the ground and clasped the priest's knees. Josè heldup his hand, and the lieutenant, bowing courteously, withdrew. Thepriest knelt beside the cowering prisoner. 

"Don Mario, " he said gently, holding the man's hand, "confess all tome. It may be the means of saving other lives--and then you will haveexpiated your own crimes. "

"Padre, " moaned the stricken man, rocking back and forth, his headburied in his hands and tears streaming through his fingers, "Padre, you will forgive--?"

"Aye, Don Mario, everything. And the Christ forgives. Your sins areremitted. But remove now the last burden from your soul--the guiltyknowledge of the part Don Wenceslas has had in the disaster which hascome upon Simití. Tell it all, friend, for you may save many preciouslives thereby. "

The fallen Alcalde roused himself by a mighty effort. Forgetting forthe moment his own dire predicament, he opened his heart. Josè satbefore him in wide-mouthed astonishment. Don Mario's confessionbrought a revelation that left him cold. The lieutenant enteredagain. 

"One moment, " said Josè. Then, to Don Mario: "And Carmen?"

Don Mario leaned close to the priest and whispered low. "No, she isnot Diego's child! And, Padre, take her away, at once! But out of thecountry! There is not an inch of ground in all Colombia now where shewould be safe from Don Wenceslas!"

Josè's head sank upon his breast. Then he again took Don Mario'shand. 

"Friend, " he said gravely, "rest assured, what you have told me savesat least one life, and removes the sin with which your own wasstained. And now, " rising and turning to the waiting lieutenant, "weare ready. "

_Ora pro nobis! Ora pro nobis! Santa Virgen, San Salvador, ora pronobis!_

A few minutes later a sharp report echoed through the Simití valleyand startled the herons that were seeking their night's rest on thewooded isle. Then Josè de Rincón, alone, and with a heart of lead, moved slowly down through the dreary village and crossed the deserted_plaza_ to his lowly abode. 

CHAPTER 34

The low-hung moon, shrouded in heavy vapor, threw an eldritch shimmerupon the little group that silently bore the body of the martyredLázaro from the old church late that night to the dreary cemetery onthe hill. Josè took but a reluctant part in the proceedings. He wouldeven have avoided this last service to his faithful friend if hecould. It seemed to him as he stumbled along the stony road behind thebody which Rosendo and Don Jorge carried that his human endurance hadbeen strained so far beyond the elastic limit that there could now beno rebound. Every thought that touched his sore mind made it bleedanew, for every thought that he accepted was acrid, rasping, oppressive. The sheer weight of foreboding, of wild apprehension, ofparalyzing fear, crushed him, until his shoulders bent low as hewalked. How, lest he perform a miracle, could he hope to extricatehimself and his loved ones from the meshes of the net, far-cast, butwith unerring aim, which had fallen upon them?

As he passed the town hall he saw through the open door the captain'scot, and a guard standing motionless beside it. The captain hadelected to remain there for the night, while his men found a pricklyhospitality among the cowering townsfolk. Josè knew now that the handwhich Don Mario had dealt himself in the game inaugurated by Wenceslashad been from a stacked deck. He knew that the President of theRepublic had ordered Morales to this inoffensive little town to quellan alleged anticlerical uprising, and that the execution of themisguided Alcalde had been determined long before the Hercules had gotunder way. He could see that it was necessary for the Government tosacrifice its agent in the person of the Alcalde, in order to proveits own loyalty to the Church. And in return therefor he knew it wouldexpect, not without reason, the coöperation of the Church in case thePresident's interference in the province of Bolívar should precipitatea general revolt. 

But what had been determined upon as his own fate? He had not thesemblance of an idea. From the confession of the ruined Alcalde he nowknew that Don Mario had been poisoned against him from the beginning;that even the letters of introduction which Wenceslas had given him tothe Alcalde contained the charge of his having accomplished the ruinof the girl Maria in Cartagena, and of his previous incarceration inthe monastery of Palazzola. And Don Mario had confessed in his lastmoments that Wenceslas had sought to work through him and Josè in thehope that the location of the famous mine, La Libertad, might berevealed. Don Mario had been instructed to get what he could out ofthis scion of Rincón; and only his own greed and cupidity had causedhim to play fast and loose with both sides until, falling before theallurements which Wenceslas held out, he had rushed madly into his owndestruction. Josè realized that so far he himself had proved extremelyuseful to Wenceslas--but had his usefulness ended? At these thoughtshis soul momentarily suffused with the pride of the old and hectoringRincón stock and rose, instinct with revolt--but only to sink again inhelpless resignation, while the shadow of despair rolled in andquenched his feeble determination. 

Rosendo and Don Jorge placed the body in one of the vacant vaults andfilled the entrance with some loose bricks. Then they stood backexpectantly. It was now the priest's turn. He had a part to perform, out there on the bleak hilltop in the ghostly light. But Josè remainedmotionless and silent, his head sunk upon his breast. 

Then Rosendo, waxing troubled, spoke in gentle admonition. "He wouldexpect it, you know, Padre. "

Josè turned away from the lonely vault. Bitter tears coursed down hischeeks, and his voice broke. He laid his head on Rosendo's stalwartshoulder and wept aloud. 

The sickly, greenish cast of the moonlight silhouetted the figures ofthe three men in grotesque shapes against the cemetery wall and thecrumbling tombs. The morose call of a toucan floated weirdly upon theheavy air. The faint wail of the frogs in the shallow waters belowrose like the despairing sighs of lost souls. 

Rosendo wound his long arm about the sorrowing priest. Don Jorge'smuscles knotted, and a muttered imprecation rose from his tight lips. Strangely had the shift and coil of the human mind thrown togetherthese three men, so different in character, yet standing now in unitedprotest against the misery which men heap upon their fellow-men in thename of Christ. Josè, the apostate agent of Holy Church, his handsbound, and his heart bursting with yearning toward his fellow-men;Rosendo, simple-minded and faithful, chained to the Church by heredityand association, yet ashamed of its abuses and lusts; Don Jorge, fierce in his denunciation of the political and religious sham andhypocrisy which he saw masking behind the cloak of imperial religion. 

"I have nothing to say, friends, " moaned Josè, raising his head;"nothing that would not still further reveal my own miserable weaknessand the despicable falsity of the Church. If the Church had followedthe Christ, it would have taught me to do likewise; and I should nowcall to Lázaro and bid him come forth, instead of shamefullyconfessing my impotency and utter lack of spirituality, even while Ipose as an _Alter Christus_. "

"You--you will leave a blessing with him before we go, Padre?" queriedthe anxious Rosendo, clinging still to the frayed edge of his fathers'faith. 

"My blessing, Rosendo, " replied Josè sadly, "would do no good. He liesthere because we have utterly forgotten what the Master came to teach. He lies there because of our false, undemonstrable, mortal beliefs. Oh, that the Church, instead of wasting time murmuring futile prayersover dead bodies, had striven to learn to do the deeds which theChrist said we should all do if we but kept his commandments!"

"But, Padre, you will say Masses for him?" pursued Rosendo. 

"Masses? No, I can not--now. I would not take his or your money togive to the Church to get his soul out of an imagined purgatory whichthe Church long ago invented for the purpose of enriching herselfmaterially--for, alas! after spiritual riches she has had littlehankering. "

"To pay God to get His own children out of the flames, eh?" suggestedDon Jorge. "It is what I have always said, the religion of the Churchis a _religion de dinero_. If there ever was a God, either He is stilllaughing Himself sick at our follies--or else He has wept Himself todeath over them! Jesus Christ taught no such stuff!"

"Friend, " said Josè solemnly, turning to Don Jorge, "I long sincelearned what the whole world must learn some time, that the Churchstands to-day, not as the bride of the Christ, but as the incarnationof the human mind, as error opposed to Truth. It is the embodiment of'Who shall be greatest?' It is one of the various phenomena of thehuman mentality; and its adherents are the victims of authoritativefalsehood. Its Mass and countless other ceremonies differ in noessential respect from ancient pagan worship. Of spirituality it hasnone. And so it can do none of the works of the Master. Its corruptingfaith is foully materialistic. It has been weighed and found wanting. And as the human mind expands, the incoming light must drive out theblack beliefs and deeds of Holy Church, else the oncoming centurieswill have no place for it. "

"I believe you!" ejaculated Don Jorge. "But why do you still remain apriest? _Hombre_! I knew when I saw you on the river boat that youwere none. But, " his voice dropping to a whisper, "there is a soldierin the road below. It would be well to leave. He might think we werehere to plot. "

When the soldier had passed, they quietly left the gloomy cemetery andmade their way quickly back through the straggling moonlight toRosendo's house. Doña Maria, with characteristic quietude, waspreparing for the duties of the approaching day. Carmen lay asleep. Josè went to her bedside and bent over her, wondering. What were theevents of the past few days in her sight? How did she interpret them?Was her faith still unshaken? What did Lázaro's death and theexecution of Don Mario mean to her? Did she, as he had done, look uponthem as real events in a real world, created and governed by a goodGod? Or did she still hold such things to be the unreal phenomena ofthe human mentality?--unreal, because opposed to God, and without theinfinite principle. As for himself, how had the current of his lifebeen diverted by this rare child! What had she not sought to teach himby her simple faith, her unshaken trust in the immanence of good!True, as a pure reflection of good she had seemed to be the means ofstirring up tremendous evil. But had he not seen the evil eventuallyconsume itself, leaving her unscathed? And yet, would this continue?He himself had always conceded to the forces of evil as great power asto those of good--nay, even greater. And even now as he stood lookingat her, wrapped in peaceful slumber, his strained sight caught nogleam of hope, no light flashing through the heavy clouds ofmisfortune that lowered above her. He turned away with an anxioussigh. 

"Padre, " said the gentle Doña Maria, "the two _Americanos_--"

"Ah, yes, " interrupted Josè, suddenly remembering that he had sentword to them to use his house while they remained in the town. "Theyhad escaped my thought. _Bien_, they are--?"

"They brought their baggage to your house an hour ago and set up theirbeds in your living room. They will be asleep by now. "

"Good, " he replied, a wistful sense of gratitude stealing over him atthe reassuring thought of their presence. "_Bien_, we will not disturbthem. "

Summoning Rosendo and Don Jorge, the three men sought the lake's edge. There, seated on the loose shales, they wrestled with their problemuntil dawn spread her filmy veil over the shimmering stars. 

 * * * * *

Long before sun-up the soldiers and the _peones_, whom Captain Moraleshad impressed, were busy gathering the commandeered rifles andcarrying them down to the gunboat Hercules, waiting at the mouth ofthe Boque river, some six or eight miles distant, and over a wildtrail. The townsfolk, thoroughly frightened, hugged the shelter oftheir homes, and left the streets to the troops. Though they detestedthe soldiers, yet none would lightly risk a blow from the heavy handof Morales, whose authority on a punitive expedition of this sort wasunlimited. The summary execution of the Alcalde had stricken them withhorror, and left an impression which never would be erased from theirmemories. 

Immediately after the early _desayuno_ the captain appeared atRosendo's door. He had come to say farewell to the priest. All of thesoldiers had disappeared down the trail, with the exception of the twowho formed the captain's small personal escort. 

"_Conque, adios, Señor Padre_" he called cheerily, as he approached. Josè was sitting at table with Rosendo's family and Don Jorge. Instinctively he rose hastily, and seizing Carmen, thrust her into theadjoining bedroom and closed the door. Then he went out to face thecaptain. 

"Much excitement for your little _pueblo_, no?" exclaimed the captainwith a bluff laugh as he grasped Josè's hand. "But a lesson like thiswill last a century. I rejoice that I found it unnecessary to burn thetown. "

Josè trembled as he replied. "_Señor Capitán_, I, too, rejoice. But--the state of the country--what may we expect?"

The captain laughed again. "_Caramba, Padre mío_! who can say? Thereis much talk, many angry looks, much gesturing and waving of hands. Congress still sits. The President sees fit to send me here, withoutorder from the Departmental Governor. _Hombre_! what will follow?_Quien sabe_?" He shrugged his shoulders with that expressive Latingesture which indicates complete irresponsibility for and indifferenceto results. 

Josè's heart began to beat more regularly. He again took the captain'shand. He was eager to see him depart. "_Bueno pues, Señor Capitán_, "he said hurriedly. "I wish you every felicitation on your return trip. Ah--ah--your orders contained no reference to--to me?" he addedhesitatingly. 

"None whatever, _Señor Padre_, " replied the captain genially. Heturned to go, and Josè stifled a great sigh of relief. But suddenlythe captain stopped; then turned again. 

"_Caramba_!" he ejaculated, "I nearly forgot! _Hombre_! what would HisGrace have said?"

He fumbled in an inner pocket and drew forth a telegraphic document. 

"_And you will seize the person of one Rosendo Ariza's daughter andimmediately send her with proper conveyance to the Sister Superior ofthe convent of Our Lady in Cartagena_, " he read aloud. 

Josè froze to the spot. From within Rosendo's house came a soft, scurrying sound. Then he heard a movement in his own. Morales returnedthe folded message to his pocket and started to enter the house. Josècould offer no resistance. He was rendered suddenly inert, althoughvividly conscious of a drama about to be enacted in which he and hisloved ones would play leading _rôles_. As in a dream he heard thecaptain address Rosendo and gruffly demand that he produce hisdaughter. He heard a deep curse from Rosendo; and his blood congealedmore thickly as he dwelt momentarily on the old man's possible conductin the face of the federal demand. He heard Morales huntingimpatiently through the shabby rooms. Then he saw him emerge in atowering rage--but empty-handed. 

"_Caramba_, Padre!" cried the angry captain, "but what is this? Havethey not had one good lesson, that I must inflict another? I demand toknow, has this Rosendo Ariza a daughter?"

He stood waiting for the answer that Josè knew he must make. Thepriest's hollow voice sounded like an echo from another world. 

"Yes. "

"_Bien_, then I have discovered one honest man in yourself, Padre. Youwill now assist me in finding her. "

"I--I know not--where--where she is, _Señor Capitán_, " murmured Josèwith feebly fluttering lips. 

They were alone, this little party of actors, although many an eyepeered out timidly at them from behind closed shutters and barreddoors around the _plaza_. Don Jorge and Rosendo came out of the houseand stood behind Josè. The captain confronted them, bristling withwrath at the insolence that dared oppose his supreme authority. Theheat had already begun to pour down in torrents. The morning air waslight, but not a sound traversed it. The principals in this tensedrama might have been painted against that vivid tropical background. 

Then Harris, moved by his piquant Yankee curiosity, appeared at thedoor of the parish house, his great eyes protruding and his headcraned forth like a monster heron. Morales saw him. "Ha!" heexclaimed. "Perhaps the _Americano_ hides the daughter of Ariza!"

He started for the priest's door. But ere he reached it Reed suddenlyappeared from behind Harris. In his hand he grasped a large Americanflag. Holding this high above his head, he blocked the entrance. 

"Hold! _Señor Capitán_!" he cried in his perfect Spanish. "We areAmerican citizens, and this house is under the protection of theAmerican Government!"

Morales fell back and stood with mouth agape in astonishment. Theaudacity of this foreign adventurer fairly robbed him of his breath. He glanced dubiously from him to the priest. Then, to save thesituation, he broke into an embarrassed laugh. 

"_Bien_, my good friend, " he finally said, addressing Reed in hiscourtliest manner, "all respect to your excellent Government. And, ifyou will accept it, I shall be pleased to secure you a commission inthe Colombian army. But, my orders--you understand, do you not? Thesun is already high, and I can not lose more time. Therefore, you willkindly stand aside and permit me to search that house. " He motioned tohis men and moved forward. 

Still holding aloft the flag, Reed drew a long revolver. Harrisquickly produced one of equal size and wicked appearance. Moralesstopped abruptly and looked at them in hesitation. He knew what hemight expect. He had heard much of American bravery. His chief delightwhen not in the field was the perusal of a battered history of theAmerican Civil War; and his exclamations of admiration for thehardihood of those who participated in it were always loud andfrequent. But he, too, had a reputation to sustain. The Americansstood grimly silent before him. Harris's finger twitched nervouslyalong the trigger, and a smile played over his thin lips. The man wasaching for a scrimmage. 

Then, his face flaming with shame and chagrin, Morales turned to hisescort and commanded them to advance. 

Up went the two revolvers. A moment more, and--

A cry came from Rosendo's house. Ana, her face swollen with weeping, clasping her sightless babe to her bosom, had emerged and faced thecaptain. 

"Señor, " she said in a voice strained to a whisper, "I am the daughterof Rosendo Ariza. "

A half-suppressed exclamation burst from the lips of Rosendo. Adesperate, suffocating joy surged over the riven soul of the priest. Don Jorge's mouth opened, but no sound came forth. This precipitate_dénoûement_ held them rigid with astonishment. 

A heavy silence descended upon them all. In the eyes of Josè Ana'stense figure, standing grim and rigid before the captain, took on adignity that was majestic, a worth that transcended all humancomputation. A Magdalen, yes, standing with her sin-conceived childclasped in her trembling arms. But this act--God above! thissacrificial act broke the alabaster box and spread the precious nardover the feet of the pitying Christ. 

Morales turned questioningly to Josè. "Is this true, Padre?" heasked. 

"It is, " murmured the dazed priest, scarce hearing his own words. 

"But--I have no orders respecting a child--"

"They cannot be separated, " half whispered Josè, not daring to meetthe vacant gaze of the babe. 

The captain hesitated a moment longer. Then, with an upward glance atthe sun, he gave a sharp command to his men. Placing the woman betweenthem, the two soldiers faced about and moved quickly away. With a lowbow and a final "_Adios, Señores_, " the captain hurriedly joined them. Ere the little group before Rosendo's house had collected their wits, the soldiers and their frail charge had mounted the hill beyond theold church and disappeared into the matted trail that led from it tothe distant river. 

Rosendo was the first to break the mesmeric silence. "_Dios arriba_!"he cried. His knees gave way beneath him and he buried his face in hishands. "Anita--!"

Then he rose hastily, and made as if to pursue the soldiers. Josè andDon Jorge restrained him. 

"_Hombre_!" cried Don Jorge, "but it is the hand of Providence! It isbetter so! Listen, friend Rosendo, it but gives us time to act!Perhaps many days! When the mistake is discovered they will return, and they will bring her back unharmed--though they may not learn untilshe reaches Cartagena! _Bien_, we can not waste time in mourning now!Courage, man! Think--think hard!"

Rosendo strove to unravel his tangled wits. Josè went to him andclasped his big hand. 

"Rosendo--friend--would you have it different? I--I alone am to blamethat they took Anita! But--it was to save--to save--Ah, God! if I didwrong, take the American's revolver and shoot me!" He tore open hiscassock and stood rigid before the dazed man. Anguish and soul-torturehad warped his features. 

"_Caramba_! Enough of such talk!" cried Don Jorge impatiently. "Weshall find plenty of others more deserving of shooting, I think! Thegirl--where is she?"

Reed turned back into the parish house, and emerged a moment laterwith Carmen and Doña Maria, who knew not as yet of Ana's departure. "Ihid them in your bedroom, Padre, " Reed explained. 

Josè threw him a look of gratitude. "Doña Maria, " he cried, "do youtake Carmen into your house and await our decision! And you, men, gointo my study! It is as Don Jorge says, we must act quickly! Leaveyour flag hanging, Mr. Reed! It may serve to protect us furtheragainst the angry people of Simití!"

The five men quickly gathered in Josè's living room in a strained, excited group. The priest was the first to speak. Rapidly he relatedin detail Don Mario's last confession. When he had closed, Reed madereply. 

"Old man, " he said, familiarly addressing Josè, "having seen the girl, I do not at all wonder that blood has been shed over her. But to keepher another hour in Simití is to sacrifice her. Get her away--and atonce! If not, the people will drive you out. I talked with Fernandolast night. With the soldiers gone, the people will rise up againstyou all. "

"But, friend, where shall we go?" cried Josè in desperation. "There isno place in Colombia now where she would be safe!"

"Then leave the country, " suggested Reed. 

"It can not be done, " interposed Don Jorge. "It would be impossiblefor him to escape down the river with the girl, even if he had fundsto carry her away from Colombia, which he has not. At any port hewould be seized. To take the trail would only postpone for a shorttime their certain capture. And then--well, we will not predict! Toflee into the jungle--or to hide among the _peones_ along thetrails--that might be done--yes. "

"What's the gibberish about now, pal?" put in Harris, whose knowledgeof the Spanish tongue was _nil_. 

Reed explained to him at some length. 

"Well, that's easy, " returned Harris. "Tell 'em you'll take the girlout yourself. She's white enough to pass as your daughter, you know. "

Rosendo, stunned by the sudden departure of Ana, had sat in a state ofstupefaction during this conversation. But now he roused up and turnedto Reed. "What says he, señor?" he inquired thickly. 

The latter translated his friend's suggestion, laughing as hecommented on its gross absurdity. 

Rosendo dropped his head again upon his chest and lapsed into silence. Then he rose unsteadily and passed a hand slowly across his brow. Astrange light had come into his eyes. For a moment he stood lookingfixedly at Reed. Finally he began to speak. 

"Señores, " he said, rolling his syllables sonorously, "the time hascome at last! For years I have waited, waited, knowing that some daythe great gift which the good God put into my hands for the littleCarmen would be needed. Señores, my parents were slaves. The cruelSpaniards drove them to and from their heavy labors with the lash; andwhen the great war ended, they sank exhausted into their graves. Myparents--I have not told you this, Padre--were the slaves of DonIgnacio de Rincón!"

An exclamation burst from the astonished priest's lips. What, then, had this man been concealing all these years? Little wonder that hehad hesitated when he learned that a Rincón had come to the parish ofSimití!

The old man quickly resumed. As he continued, his recital becamedramatic. As they listened, his auditors sat spellbound. 

"Don Ignacio de Rincón himself was kind of heart. But his overseers--ah, _Dios arriba_! they were cruel! cruel! Many a time the great lash wounditself about my poor father's shrinking body, and hurled him shrieking tothe ground--and why? Because his blistered hands could not hold the_batea_ with which he washed gold for your grandfather, Padre, yourgrandfather!"

Josè's head sank upon his breast. A groan escaped him, and tearstrickled slowly down his sunken cheeks. 

"I bear you no malice, Padre, " continued Rosendo. "It was hard thosefirst days to accept you here. But when, during your fever, Ilearned from your own lips what you had suffered, I knew that youneeded a friend, and I took you to my bosom. And now I am glad--ah, very glad, that I did so. But, though my confidence in you increasedday by day, I could never bring myself to tell you my greatsecret--the secret that now I reveal for the sake of the littleCarmen. Padre--señores--I--_I am the owner of the great mine, LaLibertad_!"

Had the heavens collapsed the astonishment of Don Jorge and the priestcould not have been greater. The coming of the soldiers, the terrificstrain of the past few days, culminating in the loss of Ana--all wasfor the moment obliterated. 

Josè started up and tried to speak. But the words would not come. Rosendo paused a moment for the effect which he knew his revelationwould produce, and then went on rapidly:

"Padre, the mine belonged to your grandfather. It produced untoldwealth. The gold taken from it was brought down the Guamocó trail toSimití, and from here shipped to Cartagena, where he lived in greatelegance. I make no doubt the gold which you and the little Carmendiscovered in the old church that day came from this same wonderfulmine. But the ore was quartz, and _arrastras_ were required to grindit, and much skill was needed, too. He had men from old Spain, deeplyversed in such knowledge. Ah, the tales my poor father told of thatmine!

"_Bien_, the war broke out. The Guamocó region became depopulated, andsank back into the jungle. The location of the mine had been recordedin Cartagena; but, as you know, when Don Ignacio fled from thiscountry he destroyed the record. He did the same with the records inSimití, on that last flying trip here, when he hid the gold in thealtar of the old church. And then the jungle grew up around the mineduring those thirteen long years of warfare--the people who knew of itdied off--and the mine was lost, utterly lost!"

He stopped for breath. The little group sat enthralled before him. Allbut Harris, who was vainly beseeching Reed to translate to him thedramatic story. 

"Padre, " continued Rosendo at length, "from what my father had told meI had a vague idea of the location of that mine. And many a weary dayI spent hunting for it! Then--then I found it! Ah, _Caramba_! I weptaloud for joy! It was while I was on the Tiguí, washing gold. I wasworking near what we used to call _Pozo Cayman_, opposite La Colorado, where the Frenchmen died. I camped on the lonely bank there, with onlythe birds and the wondering animals to keep me company. One darknight, as I lay on the ground, I had a dream. I believe in dreams, Padre. I dreamt that the Virgin, all in white, came to me where Ilay--that she whispered to me and told me to rise quickly and driveaway the devil. 

"I awoke suddenly. It was still dark, but a pair of fiery eyes weregleaming at me from the bush. I seized my _machete_ and started afterthem. It was a jaguar, Padre, and he fled up the hill from me. Why Ifollowed, I know not, unless I thought, still half asleep as I was, that I was obeying the Virgin. 

"At the top of the hill I lost the animal--and myself, as well. I am agood woodsman, señores, and not easily lost. But this time my poorhead went badly astray. I started to cut through the bush. At last Icame to the edge of a steep ravine. I clambered down the sides intothe gully below. I thought it looked like an old trail, and I followedit. So narrow was it at times that the walls almost touched. But Iwent on. Then it widened, and I knew that at last I was in a trail, long since abandoned--and how old, only the good God himself knew!

"But my story grows as long as the trail! On and on I went, crossingstream after stream, scaring snakes from my path, frightening thebirds above, who doubtless have never seen men in that region, all thetime thinking I was going toward the Tiguí, until at last the oldsunken trail led me up a tremendous hill. At the top, buried in adense matting of brush, I fell over a circle of stones. They were theremains of an ancient _arrastra_. Further on I found another; andstill another. Then, near them, the stone foundations of houses, longsince gone to decay. From these the trail took me into a gully, wherebut little water flowed. It was lined with quartz bowlders. I struckoff a piece from one of the largest. It showed specks of gold! My eyesdanced! I forgot that I was lost! I went on up the stream, strikingoff piece after piece from the great rocks. Every one showed specks offree gold. _Caramba_! I reached the top of the hill. _Hombre_! how canI tell it! Tunnel after tunnel yawned at me from the hillside. Some ofthese were still open, where they had been driven through the hardrock. Others had caved. I had my wallet, in which I always carrymatches and a bit of candle. I entered one of the open tunnels. _Diosarriba_! far within I crossed a quartz vein--I scraped it with my_machete_. _Caramba_! it could not have been less than six feet inwidth--and all speckled with gold! Above it, far into the blackness, where bats were scurrying madly, the ore had been taken out long, longago. In the darkness below I stumbled over old, rusted tools. Everyone bore the inscription, 'I de R. ' Your grandfather, Padre, put hisstamp on everything belonging to him. Then, as I sat trying to placemyself, my father's oft-told story of the location of the mine flashedinto my brain. My memory is good, Padre. And I knew then where I was. I was at the headwaters of the Borrachera. _And I had discovered LaLibertad_!"

Reed's eager ears had drunk in every word of the old man's dramaticstory. His practical mind had revolved its possibilities. When Rosendopaused again, he quickly asked:

"The title, señor?"

Rosendo drew forth a paper from his bosom. It bore the governmentstamp. He handed it to Reed. 

"You will recall, Padre, " he said, addressing the dully wonderingJosè, "that I once asked you to give me a name for a mine--a rarename? And you told me to call it the--the--what is it?"

"The Chicago mine, Rosendo?" replied Josè, recalling the incident. 

"Yes, " exclaimed the old man excitedly, "that is it! _Bien_, I told noone of my discovery of years before. I had never had money enough toget the title to it. Besides, I was afraid. But when it seemed that Imight soon have use for it I sold my _finca_ for funds and had Lázaroapply through Don Mario for title to a mine called--called--"

"The Chicago mine, " said Josè, again coming to the rescue. 

"Just so! _Bien_, Lázaro got the title, which I never could have done, for at that time Don Mario would not have put through any papers forme. I then had the unsuspecting Lázaro transfer the title to me, and--_Bien_, I am the sole owner of La Libertad!"

Reed examined the paper at some length, and then handed it back toRosendo. "Can we not talk business, señor?" he said, speaking withsome agitation. "I am so situated that I can float an American companyto operate this mine, and allow you a large percentage of the returns. Great heavens!" he exclaimed, unable longer to contain himself, "it isyour fortune!"

"Señor, " replied Rosendo, slowly shaking his head, "I want no share inany of your American companies. But--your friend--he has suggestedjust what has been running through my mind ever since you came toSimití. "

Josè's heart suddenly stopped. The wild, terrifying idea tore throughhis fraught brain. He turned quickly to Reed and addressed him inEnglish. "No--no--it is impossible! The old man wanders! You can nottake the girl--!"

"Certainly not!" ejaculated Reed with some warmth. "Such a thing isquite out of the question!"

"Stuff!" exclaimed Harris. "Now look here, Mr. Priest, Reed's wife isin Cartagena, waiting for him. Came down from New York that far forthe trip. Kind of sickly, you know. What's to prevent her from takingthe girl to the States and placing her in a boarding school thereuntil such time as you can either follow, or this stew down here hassettled sufficiently to permit of her returning to you?"

Reed threw up a deprecatory hand. "Impossible!" he cried. 

"But, " interposed Harris exasperatedly, "would you leave the ravishinglittle beauty here to fall into the hands of the cannibals who aretrailing her? Lord Harry! if it weren't for the looks of the thing I'dtake her myself. But you've got a wife, so it'd be easy. " He leanedover to Reed and concluded in a whisper, "The old man's going to makea proposition--listen!"

"But, " remonstrated the latter, "the expense of keeping her in NewYork indefinitely! For, unless I mistake much, none of these peoplewill ever see the States after she leaves. And then I have an adopteddaughter on my hands! And, heaven knows! now that my ambitious wife isdetermined to break into New York society with her adorable sister, Ihave no money to waste on adopted children!"

Rosendo, who had been studying the Americans attentively during theirconversation, now laid a hand on Reed's. "Señor, " he said in a quiettone, "if you will take the little Carmen with you, and keep her safefrom harm until Padre Josè can come to you, or she can be returned tous here, I will transfer to you a half interest in this mine. "

Josè sprang to his feet. His face was blanched with fear. "Rosendo!"he cried wildly, "do not do that! _Dios arriba_, no! You do notknow this man! Ah, señor, " turning to Reed, "I beg you willforgive--but Rosendo is mad to suggest such a thing! We cannot permitit--we--I--oh, God above!" He sank again into his chair and coveredhis face with his hands. 

Don Jorge gave vent to a long, low whistle. Rosendo, his voice huskyand his lips trembling, went on:

"I know, Padre--I know. But it must be done! I will give the mine tothe American--and to Carmen. He has a powerful government back of him, and he is able to defend the title and save her interest as well ashis own. As for me, I--_Bien_, I shall want nothing when Carmengoes--nothing. "

"For heaven's sake!" burst in Harris, seizing Reed's arm. "If youdon't tell me what all this is about now I shall shoot--and notstraight up, either!"

"Señores, " said Reed in a controlled voice, "let me talk this matterover with my friend here. I will come to you in an hour. "

Rosendo and Don Jorge bowed and silently withdrew from the parishhouse. The former went at once to apprise the wondering Doña Maria ofthe events which had crowded the morning's early hours and to answerher apprehensive questionings regarding Ana. Carmen was to know onlythat Ana--but what could he tell her? That the woman had sacrificedherself for the girl? No; but that they had seized this opportunity tosend her, under the protection of Captain Morales, to the Sisters ofthe Convent of Our Lady. The old man knew that the girl would see onlyGod's hand in the event. 

Josè as in a dream sought Carmen. It seemed to him that once his armsclosed about her no power under the skies could tear them asunder. Hefound her sitting in the doorway at the rear of Rosendo's house, looking dreamily out over the placid lake. Cucumbra, now old andfeeble, slept at her feet. As the man approached he heard her murmurrepeatedly, "It is not true--it is not true--it is not true!"

"Carmen!" cried Josè, seizing her hand. "Come with me!"

She rose quickly. "Gladly, Padre--but where?"

"God only knows--to the end of the world!" cried the frenzied man. 

"Well, Padre dear, " she softly replied, as she smiled up into hisdrawn face, "we will start out. But I think we had better rest when wereach the shales, don't you?"

Then she put her hand in his. 

CHAPTER 35

"No, Padre dear, " with an energetic shake of her head, "no. Not evenafter all that has seemed to happen to us do I believe it true. No, Ido not believe it real. Evil is not power. It does not exist, excepting in the human mind. And that, as you yourself know, can notbe real, for it is all that God is not. "

They were seated beneath the slowly withering _algarroba_ tree out onthe burning shales. Josè still held the girl's hand tightly in his. Again he was struggling with self, struggling to pass the borderlinefrom, self-consciousness to God-consciousness; striving, under thespiritual influence of this girl, to break the mesmeric hold of hisown mortal beliefs, and swing freely out into his true orbit about thecentral Sun, infinite Mind. 

The young girl, burgeoning into a marvelous womanhood, sat before himlike an embodied spirit. Her beauty of soul shone out in gorgeousluxuriance, and seemed to him to envelop her in a sheen of radiance. The brilliant sunshine glanced sparkling from her glossy hair into animbus of light about her head. Her rich complexion was but faintlysuggestive to him of a Latin origin. Her oval face and regularfeatures might have indicated any of the ruddier branches of theso-called Aryan stock. But his thought was not dwelling on thesethings now. It was brooding over the events of the past few weeks, andtheir probable consequences. And this he had just voiced to her. 

"Padre dear, " she had said, when his tremulous voice ceased, "howmuch longer will you believe that two and two are seven? And how muchlonger will you try to make me believe it? Oh, Padre, at first you didseem to see so clearly, and you talked so beautifully to me! And then, when things seemed to go wrong, you went right back to your oldthoughts and opened the door and let them all in again. And so thingscouldn't help getting worse for you. You told me yourself, long ago, that you would have to empty your mind of its old beliefs. But I guessyou didn't get them all out. If you had cleaned house and got yourmind ready for the good thoughts, they would have come in. You know, you have to get ready for the good, before it can come. You have to bereceptive. But you go right on getting ready for evil. If you lovedGod--really _loved_ Him--why, you would not be worried and anxiousto-day, and you would not be believing still that two and two areseven. You told me, oh, so long ago! that this human life was just a_sense_ of life, a series of states of consciousness, and thatconsciousness was only mental activity, the activity of thought. Well, I remembered that, and put it into practice--but you didn't. A trueconsciousness is the activity of true thought, you said. A falseconsciousness is the activity of false thought. True thought comesfrom God, who is mind. False thought is the opposite of true thought, and doesn't come from any mind at all, but is just supposition. Asupposition is never really created, because it is never real--nevertruth. True thought becomes externalized to us in good, in harmony, inhappiness. False thought becomes externalized to us in unhappiness, sickness, loss, in wrong-doing, and in death. It is unreal, and yetawfully real to those who believe it to be real. Why don't you actyour knowledge, as you at first said you were going to do? I have allalong tried to do this. Whenever thoughts come to me I always lookcarefully at them to see whether they are based on any real principle, on God. If so, I let them in. If not, I drive them away. Sometimes ithas been hard to tell just which were true and which false. Andsometimes I got caught, and had to pay the penalty. But every day I dobetter; and the time will come at last when I shall be able to tell atonce which thoughts are true and which untrue. When that time comes, nothing but good thoughts will enter, and nothing but good will beexternalized to me in consciousness. I shall be in heaven--all theheaven there is. It is the heaven which Jesus talked so much about, and which he said was within us all. It is so simple, Padre dear, sosimple!"

The man sat humbly before her like a rebuked child. He knew that shespoke truth. Indeed, these were the very things that he had taught herhimself. Why, then, had he failed to demonstrate them? Only becausehe had attempted to mix error with truth--had clung to the reality andimmanence of evil, even while striving to believe good omnipotent andinfinite. He had worked out these theories, and they had appearedbeautiful to him. But, while Carmen had eagerly grasped andassimilated them, even to the consistent shaping of her daily life toaccord with them, he had gone on putting the stamp of genuineness andreality upon every sort of thought and upon every human event as ithad been enacted in his conscious experience. His difficulty was that, having proclaimed the allness of spirit, God, he had proceeded to bowthe knee to evil. Carmen had seemed to know that the mortal, materialconcepts of humanity would dissolve in the light of truth. He, on theother hand, had clung to them, even though they seared the mind thatheld them, and became externalized in utter wretchedness. 

"When you let God's thoughts in, Padre, and drive out theiropposites, then sickness and unhappiness will disappear, just asthe mist disappears over the lake when the sun rises and the lightgoes through it. If you really expected to some day see the now'unseen things' of God, you would get ready for them, and you would'rejoice always, ' even though you did seem to see the wickedness ofPadre Diego, the coming of the soldiers, the death of Lázaro and DonMario, and lots of unhappiness about yourself and me. Those men arenot dead--except to your thought. You ought to know that all thesethings are the unreal thoughts externalized in your consciousness. And, knowing them for what they really are, the opposites of God'sthoughts, you ought to know that they can have no more power overyou than anything else that you know to be supposition. We cansuppose that two and two are seven, but we can't make it true. Thesupposition does not have any effect upon us. We know that it isn'tso. But as regards just thought--and you yourself said that everythingreduces to thought--why, people seem to think it is different. Butit isn't. Don't you understand what the good man Jesus meant when hetold the Pharisees to first cleanse the cup and platter within, that the outside might also be clean? Why, that was a clear case ofexternalization, if there ever was one! Cleanse your thought, andeverything outside of you will then become clean, for your cleanthought will become externalized. You once said that you believedin the theory that 'like attracts like. ' I do, too. I believe thatgood thoughts attract good ones, and evil thoughts attract thoughtslike themselves. I have proved it. And you ought to know that yourlife shows it, too. You hold fear-thoughts and worry-thoughts, andthen, just as soon as these become externalized to you as misfortuneand unhappiness, you say that evil is real and powerful, and thatGod permits it to exist. Yes, God does permit all the existencethere is to a supposition--which is none. You pity yourself and allthe world for being unhappy, when all you need is to do as Jesus toldyou, and know God to be infinite Mind, and evil to be only thesuppositional opposite, without reality, without life, withoutpower--unless you give it these things in your own consciousness. Youdon't have to take thought for your life. You don't have to becovetous, or envious, or fearful, or anxious. You couldn't doanything if you were. These things don't help you. Jesus said thatof himself he could do nothing. But--as soon as he recognized God asthe infinite principle of all, and acted that knowledge--why, thenhe raised the dead! And at last, when his understanding was greater, he dissolved the mental concept which people called his human body. Don't you see it, Padre--don't you? I _know_ you do!"

Yes, he saw it. He always did when she pleaded thus. And yet:

"But, Carmen, padre Rosendo would send you out of the country withthese Americans!"

"Yes, so you have said. And you have said that you have always fearedyou would lose me. Is that fear being externalized now? I have notfeared that I would lose you. But, Padre dear--"

The ghastly look on the man's face threw wide the flood-gates of hersympathy. "Padre--all things work together for good, you know. Good is_always_ working. It never stops. Listen--" She clung more closely tohim. 

"Padre, it may be best, after all. You do not want me to stay alwaysin Simití. And if I go, you will go with me, or soon follow. Oh, Padredear, you have told me that up in that great country above us thepeople do not know God as you and I are learning to know Him. Padre--Iwant to go and tell them about Him! I've wanted to for a long, longtime. "

The girl's eyes shone with a holy light. Her wistful face glowed witha love divine. 

"Padre dear, you have so often said that I had a message for theworld. Do not the people up north need that message? Would you keepme here then? The people of Simití are too dull to hear the messagenow. But up there--Oh, Padre, it may be right that I should go!And, if it is right, nothing can prevent it, for the right _will_ beexternalized! Right _will_ prevail!"

True, there was the girl's future. Such a spirit as hers could notlong be confined within the narrow verges of Simití. He must notoppose his egoism to her interests. And, besides, he might followsoon. Perhaps go with her! Who knew? it might be the opening of theway to the consummation of that heart-longing for--

Ah, the desperate joy that surged through his yearning soul at thethought! The girl was fifteen. A year, two, three, and he would stillbe a young man! She loved him--never had man had such proofs as he ofan affection so divine! And he worshiped her! Why hesitate longer?Surely the way was unfolding!

"Carmen, " he said tenderly, drawing her closer to him, "you may beright. Yes--we will both go with the Americans. Once out of thisenvironment and free from ecclesiastical chains, I shall do better. "

The girl looked up at him with brimming eyes. "Padre dear, " shewhispered, "I want to go--away from Simití. Juan--he asks me almostevery day to marry him. And he becomes angry when I refuse. Even inthe church, when Don Mario was trying to get us, Juan said he wouldsave me if I would promise to marry him. He said he would go toCartagena and kill the Bishop. He follows me like a shadow. He--Padre, he is a good boy. I love him. But--I do not--want to marry him. "

They sat silent for some moments. Josè knew how insistent Juan hadbecome. The lad adored the girl. He tormented the priest about her. 

"Padre, you--you are not always going to be a priest--are you?And--I--I--oh, Padre dear, I love you so!" She turned impulsively andthrew both arms about his neck. "I want to see you work out yourproblem. I will help you. You can go with me--and I can always livewith you--and some day--some day--" She buried her face in hisshoulder. The artless girl had never seemed to think it unmaidenly todeclare her love for him, to show him unmistakably that she hoped tobecome his wife. 

The man's heart gave a mighty leap. The beautiful child in his armswas human! Young in years, and yet a woman by the conventions of thesetropic lands. He bent his head and kissed her. Why, she had longinsisted that she would wait for him! And why should he now oppose theexternalization of that sweet thought?

"Ah, _chiquita_, " he murmured, "I will indeed go with you now! I willsend my resignation to the Bishop at once. No, I will wait and send itfrom the States. I will renounce my oath, abjure my promise--"

The girl sat suddenly upright and looked earnestly into his eyes. "What do you mean, Padre?" she queried dubiously. "What did youpromise?"

"Ah, I have never told you. But--I promised my mother, dearest one, that I would always remain a priest--unless, indeed, the Churchherself should eject me from the priesthood. But, it was foolish--"

"And your mother--she expects you to keep your word?"

"Yes, _chiquita_. "

The girl sat in pensive silence for a moment. "But, Padre, " sheresumed, "honesty--it is the very first thing that God requires of us. We have to be--we _must_ be honest, for He is Truth. He cannot see orrecognize error, you know. And so He cannot see you and help you ifyou are dishonest. "

"I know, child. And I tried to be honest, even when circumstances andmy own poor resistive force combined to direct me into the priesthood. But--since that day I have lived a life of hypocrisy, not knowing howto shape my course. Then, at length, I met you. It was--too late!"

"But, Padre, the Church has not put you out? You are still a priest?"

"Yes, " sadly; "and no. "

"But, if you went to the States--with me--would you be put out of theChurch?"

"Possibly, _chiquita_. "

"And what would that mean, Padre?"

"The disgrace that always attaches to an apostate priest, child. "

"And, Padre--your mother--what would she say?"

Josè hung his head. "It would kill her, " he replied slowly. 

Carmen reflected long, while Josè, with ebbing hope, waited. "Padredear, " she finally said, "then you have not yet worked out yourproblem--have you?"

No, he knew that. And he was now attempting to solve it by flight. 

"I mean, Padre, you have not worked it out in God's way. For if youhad, no one would be hurt, and there could not be any disgrace, orunhappiness--could there?"

"But, _chiquita_, " he cried in despair, "nothing but excommunicationcan release me! And I long ago ceased to look for that. You do notunderstand--you are young! What can I do?" His tortured soul pleadedin agony. 

"Why, Padre dear, you can work it out, all out, in God's way. "

"But--must I remain here--can I let you go alone with the Americans--?"

"Yes, you can, if it is right, " she answered gently. 

"Carmen!" he cried, straining her in his arms. "If you go with theAmericans, I shall, I must, go too!"

"Not unless it is right, Padre, " she insisted. "If it is right, nothing can keep you from going. But, unless it is God's way--well, you can not solve your problem by running away from it. "

"But--child--to remain here means--God above! you don't realize whatit may mean to us both!"

The girl relapsed into silence. Josè began to feel that they weredrifting hopelessly, abysmally apart. Desperation seized him. 

"Carmen!" he cried miserably. "I have been cheated and thwarted all mywretched life! I can endure it no longer! I can not, would not, holdyou here, if the way opens for you to go! But--I can not remain herewithout you--and live!"

"That is not true, Padre, " replied the girl, slowly shaking her head. "No human being is necessary to any one's happiness. And progressalways comes first. You are trying to 'acquire that mind which was inChrist. ' If you are really progressing, why, you will surely be happy. But you must work it all out God's way. "

"His way!" he retorted bitterly. "And that--"

"You must be honest, Padre, honest with Him and with everybody. If youcan no longer be a priest--if you are not one, and never have beenone--you must be honest with the Church and with yourself. You mustsee and reflect only Truth. Why do you not write to the Bishop andtell him all about it? You say you have been protecting me. But leaveme to God. You must--Padre, you _must_--be honest! Write to yourmother--write to the Bishop. Tell them both how you feel. Then leaveit all with God. Do not run away. Throw yourself upon Him. But--oh, Padre dear, you must trust Him, and you must--you _must_--know that Heis good, that He is infinite, and that there is no evil! Otherwise, the good can not be externalized. If you did that, your problem wouldbe quickly solved. "

She rose and took his hand. "Padre dear, " she continued, "God islife--there is no death. God is eternal--there is no age. God is allgood--there is no poverty, no lack, no loss. God is infinite, and Heis mind--there is no inability to see the right and to do it. God ismy mind, my spirit, my soul, my all. I have nothing to fear. Humanmental concepts are not real. You, yourself, say so. I am not afraidof them. I look at God constantly, and strive always to see only Him. But He is just as much to you as He is to me. You can not outline howthings will work out; but you can know that they can only work out inthe right way. You _must_ work as God directs. Only by so doing canyou solve your problem. I try always to work that way. And I havealways worked for you that way. I have always thought the time wouldcome when you and I would live and work together--always. But I havenot insisted on it. I have not said that it _had_ to be. If it worksout that way, I know I would be very happy. But, even if it does not, I shall know that I can not be deprived of any good, for the good Godis everywhere, and He is love, and He has given me all happiness. Andnow we must leave everything to Him, while we work, work, work to seeHim only everywhere. "

She would talk no more. Suffering himself to be led by her, theycrossed the shales to the dust-laden road and made their way silentlythrough the burning heat into the village. 

At the door of the parish house stood Rosendo. His face was grave, buthis manner calm. "Padre, " he announced, "it is arranged. "

Josè's knees shook under him as he followed the old man into thehouse. Reed, Harris, and Don Jorge sat about the table, on which werestrewn papers covered with figures and sketches. The priest sat downdumbly and drew Carmen to him. Harris fell to devouring the girl withhis bulging eyes. Reed at once plunged into the topic underconsideration. 

"I have been saying, " he began, addressing the priest, "that I canaccept the proposal made by Don Rosendo, but with some amendments. Mr. Harris and I are under contract with the Molino Company to report upontheir properties along the Boque river. I am informed by Don Rosendothat he is acquainted with these alleged mines, and knows them to beworthless. Be that as it may, I am obliged to examine them. But I willagree to take this girl to New York, under the protection of my wife, upon the consideration that when I reach my home city I be allowed toform a company to take over this mine, returning to the girl afifty-one per cent interest in the stock, one half of which she agreesin writing to deliver to me immediately upon its issuance. Being undercontract, I can not accept it now. The balance of the stock must besold for development purposes. I further agree to place the girl in aboarding school of the first quality in the States, and to bear allexpenses of her maintenance until such time as she is eitherself-supporting, or one or several of you may come to her, or effecther return to Colombia. Now, according to Ariza's sketches, we mayproceed up the Boque river to its headwaters--how far did you say, friend?"

"Some hundred and fifty miles from Simití, señor, " replied Rosendo. 

"And then, " resumed Reed, "we can cut across country from the sourcesof the Boque, following what is known as Rosario creek, down to theriver Tiguí, striking the latter somewhere near the ancient pointknown as La Colorado. "

"But, señor, " interposed Rosendo, "remember that the headwaters of theBoque are practically unknown to-day. Many years ago, when I was asmall lad, some liberated slaves worked along Rosario creek, which wasthen one day's journey on foot with packs from La Colorado. But thatold trail has long since disappeared. Probably no one has been over itsince. "

"Very well, " returned the practical Reed, "then we shall have to makeour own trail across the divide to the Tiguí. But once at La Colorado, you tell me there is an ancient trail that leads down to Llano, on theNechí river?"

"Yes, to the mouth of the Amacerí. Llano was something of a town longago. But river steamers that go up the Nechí as far as Zaragoza once amonth, or less frequently, still touch there, I am told. And so youcan get down the Cauca to Maganguey, where you can change to aMagdalena river boat for Calamar. Then by rail to Cartagena. The trailto Llano can not be more than fifty miles in length, and fairlyopen. "

Harris, who had been studying the sketches, whistled softly. "LordHarry!" he muttered, "nearly two hundred miles, and all by foot, overunspeakable jungle trails!"

Reed paid no attention to him. "Very well, then, " he continued, "wehad best set out as soon as possible. To you, friend Rosendo, I leaveall arrangements regarding supplies and _cargadores_. I will furnishfunds for the entire expedition, expecting to be reimbursed by LaLibertad. "

Carmen listened, with dilated eyes. As for Josè, his head swam. Starting hurriedly after Rosendo, who rose immediately to inauguratepreparations, he drew him into the latter's house. "_Hombre_!" hecried, his whole frame tremulous with agitation, "do you know what youare doing? Do you--"

"_Na_, Padre, " replied Rosendo gently, as he held up a restraininghand, "it is best. I want the _Americanos_ to take Carmen. She is notsafe another day here. The soldiers left but yesterday. They mayreturn any hour. At any moment an order might come for your arrest ormine. We must get her away at once. We can do no more for her here. The struggle has been long, and I weary of it. " He sat down inexhaustion and mopped his damp brow. "I weary of life, Padre. I wouldbe through with it. I am old. This world can hold little more for me. If I can but know that she is safe--_Bien_, that is all. From what wehave learned, this country will soon be plunged again into war. I donot wish to live through another revolution. I have seen many. I seemto have fought all my life. And for what? What is La Libertad to me?Nothing--less than nothing. I have not the funds to work it. I doubtif I could even hold it, were it known here that I had the title tosuch a famous mine. But the _Americano_ can hold it. And he is honest, Padre. He will save Carmen's interest, and deal fairly with her. _Bien_, let him place her in a school in the States. If you weatherthe oncoming revolution, then you may be able to send for her. _Quiensabe_?"

Josè controlled himself. "Rosendo, " he said, "I will go with her. "

The old man looked at him quizzically. "Do you mean, Padre, that youwill leave the Church?"

Josè kept silent for some time. Then he spoke bitterly. 

"Can I remain longer in Simití, where the people have becomedivided--where they look upon me askance, as the cause of the troublethat has befallen them? Is not my usefulness here ended? War is at ourdoor. What, think you, will it mean to Simití? To us? And Wenceslas, what has he further in store for you and me? What he has for Carmen, we well know. And we seek by flight to save her. But the disappearanceof Diego has not been explained. The trick which Anita played uponMorales to save Carmen must bring down increased wrath upon our heads, especially yours and mine. No, Rosendo, you and I must go, and go atonce!"

"And Anita--?"

"We will pick her up in Cartagena. Don Jorge will accompany us. I have certain information to give him that will enlist hisservices--information which, I think, will serve to introduce himto His Grace, and somewhat abruptly. But, come, Rosendo, do you andDoña Maria prepare for flight!"

"Maria and I? The States! Na, Padre, it is impossible! I will go withthe _Americanos_ up the Boque and to La Libertad. Then I will returnto Simití--or to the _hacienda_ of Don Nicolás, if Maria wishes toremain there while I am in the hills. But--do you go, Padre--go andlook after the girl. There is nothing further for you here. Yes, Padre, go--go!"

"But--ah, Rosendo, you will reconsider? The Americans will take us allfor that mine!"

"I? No, Padre, " said the old man firmly, but in a voice heavy withsadness. "Maria and I remain in Simití. My work is done when I haveseen the girl safely out of this unhappy country. I could not live inthe States. And my days are few now, anyway. Let me end them here. How, I care not. "

Carmen came bounding in and flew into Rosendo's arms. "Padre Rosendo!"she cried, aglow with animation, "we are all going to the States upnorth! I am going to take them my message! And I am going to schoolthere! Oh, padre, isn't it beautiful!"

"Ah, _chiquita_, " said Rosendo cheerily, straining her to him, "Iguess we have decided to send you on ahead--a little ahead of us. Yourold padre has some business he must attend to here before he leaves. "His eyes grew moist. Josè knew what his effort at cheerfulness wascosting him. 

"But, padre Rosendo, you will come--later? You promise? You must!" Shelooked into his eyes, pleading wistfully. 

"Yes, little one, yes--of course. For where you are, there your oldpadre will always be--always--always!"

"And Padre Josè?" panted the girl under Rosendo's tight grasp as sheturned her head toward the priest. 

"He goes with us, " assured Rosendo--"I think--at least as far as thecoast. He will see Anita--and--" His voice broke, and he turnedabruptly away. 

"And she will go to the States with us! Oh, padre!" cried the girl, bounding up and down with joy. 

Josè turned and went quickly into his own house. With grim determinationhe drew the battered haircloth trunk from beneath his bed and beganto throw his few effects into it. 

But he had scarce begun when Juan, now bearing the proud title ofofficial courier between Simití and Bodega Central, entered with aletter. Josè recognized the writing, and tore it open at once. It wasfrom his mother. 

"My beloved son, at last, after these many years of most rigideconomy, even of privation, I have saved enough from my meager income, together with what little you have been able to send me from time totime, and a recent generous contribution from your dear uncle, toenable me to visit you. I shall sail for Colombia just as soon as yousend me detailed instructions regarding the journey. And, oh, my son, to see you offering the Mass in your own church, and to realize thatyour long delayed preferment is even at hand, for so your good uncleinforms me daily, will again warm the blood in a heart long chilled bypoignant suffering. Till we meet, the Blessed Virgin shield you, mybeloved son. "

The letter slipped from the priest's fingers and drifted to the floor. With a moan he sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. 

CHAPTER 36

What had kept Josè de Rincón chained all these years to an institutionto which in thought, feeling, and sympathy he was so utterly alien, wehave repeatedly pointed out--a warped sense of filial devotion, adevotion that would not willingly bring sorrow upon his proud, sensitive mother, and yet the kind that so often accomplishes justthat which it strives to avoid. But yet he had somehow failed to notethe nice distinction which he was always making between the promiseshe had given to her and the oath which he had taken at his ordination. He had permitted himself to be held to the Church by his mother's fonddesires, despite the fact that his nominal observance of these hadwrecked his own life and all but brought her in sorrow to the grave. The abundance of his misery might be traced to forgetfulness of thesapient words of Jesus: "For whosoever shall do the will of my Fatherwhich is in heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, and mother. "

Then had come Carmen. And he had sacrificed his new-found life to thechild. He had exhausted every expedient to keep himself in Simití, that he might transfer his own great learning to this girl, and at thesame time yield himself to her beneficent influence. Yet, despite hisvague hopes, he had always dimly seen the day when she would leavehim; but he had likewise tried to feel that when it arrived his ownstatus would be such that the ecclesiastical ties which bound himwould be loosened, and he would be free to follow her. Alas! the lapseof years had brought little change in that respect. 

But now he saw the girl entering upon that very hour of departurewhich all his life in Simití had hung like a menacing cloud abovehim. And the shock had been such that he had thrown every otherconsideration to the winds, and, regardless of consequences, was madlypreparing to accompany her. Then, like a voice from the tomb, had comehis mother's letter. 

He slept not that night. Indeed, for the past two nights sleep hadavoided his haggard eyes. In the feeble glow of his candle he sat inhis little bedroom by his rough, bare table, far into the hours ofmorning, struggling, resolving, hoping, despairing--and, at last, yielding. If he had been born anew that fateful day, seven yearsbefore, when Rosendo first told him the girl's story, he had thisnight again died. When the gray hours of dawn stole silently acrossthe distant hills he rose. His eyes were bleared and dull. His cheekssunken. He staggered as he passed out through the living room wherelay the sleeping Americans. Rosendo met him in front of the house. 

"Padre!" exclaimed the old man as he noted the priest's appearance. 

Josè held up a warning hand. "Do not speak of it, Rosendo. I am notwell. But not a word to Carmen!"

Rosendo nodded understandingly. "It has been hard on you, Padre. Butyou will soon be off now. And in the States with her--"

"For God's sake, friend, never speak of that again!" cried Josèsharply. "Listen! How long will it take to complete your preparations?"

"_Bien_, " returned the amazed Rosendo when he recovered his breath, "we can get away to-morrow. "

"Can you not go this evening?"

"No, Padre. There is much to do. But you--"

"Hear me, friend. Everything must be conducted in the greatestsecrecy. It must be given out that the Americans go to explore theBoque; that you accompany them as guide; that Carmen goes as--as cook, why not?"

"_Cierto_, she cooks as well as Maria. "

"Very well. Juan must be kept in complete ignorance of the real natureof your trip. He must not go with you. He is the courier--I will seethat Fernando sends him again to Bodega Central to-morrow, and keepshim there for several days. You say it is some two hundred miles toLlano. How long will it take to go that distance?"

"Why--_Quien sabe_, Padre?" returned Rosendo thoughtfully. "With afair trail, and allowing the _Americanos_ some time to prospect on theBoque--where they will find nothing--and several days to look over LaLibertad, we ought to reach Llano in six weeks. "

"And Cartagena?"

"A week later, if you do not have to wait a month on the river bankfor the boat. "

"Then, all going well, within two months Carmen should be out of thecountry. "

"Surely. You and she--"

"Enough, friend. I do not go with her. "

"What? _Caramba_!"

"Go now and bid Carmen come to me immediately after the _desayuno_. Tell Doña Maria that I will eat nothing this morning. I am going up tothe old church on the hill. "

Rosendo stared stupidly at the priest. But Josè turned abruptly andstarted away, leaving the old man in a maze of bewilderment. 

In the gloom of the old church Josè threw himself upon a bench nearthe door, and waited torpidly. A few moments later came a voice, andthen the soft patter of bare feet in the thick dust without. Carmenwas talking as she approached. Josè rose in curiosity; but the girlwas alone. In her hand she held a scrubby flower that had drawn adesperate nourishment from the barren soil at the roadside. Sheglanced up at Josè and smiled. 

"It is easy to understand their language, isn't it, Padre? They don'tspeak as we do, but they reflect. And that is better than speaking. They reflect God. They stand for His ideas in the human mind. And sodo you. And I. Aren't they wonderful, these flowers! But you know, they are only the way we interpret certain of God's wonderful ideas. Only, because we mortals believe in death, we see these beautifulthings at last reflecting our thought of death--don't we? We see onlyour thoughts, after all. Everything we see about us is reflectedthought. First we see our thoughts of life and beauty and good. Andthen our thoughts of decay and death. 

"But God--He never sees anything but the good, " she went on. "He seesthe real, not the supposition. And when we learn to see only as Hedoes, why, then we will never again see death. We will see ourselvesas we really are, immortal. God sees Himself that way. Jesus learnedto see that way, didn't he? His thought was finally so pure that hesaw nothing but good. And that gave him such power that he did thosethings that the poor, ignorant, wrong-thinking people called miracles. But they were only the things that you and I and everybody else oughtto be doing to-day--and would be doing, if we thought as he did, instead of thinking of evil. 

"But, " she panted, as she sat down beside him, "I've talked a lot, haven't I? And you sent for me because you wanted to talk. But, remember, " holding up an admonitory finger, "I shall not listen if youtalk anything but good. Oh, Padre dear, " looking up wistfully into hisdrawn face, "you are still thinking that two and two are seven! Willyou never again think right? How can you ever expect to see good ifyou look only at evil? If I looked only at wilted flowers I wouldnever know there were any others. "

"Carmen, " he said in a hollow voice, "I love you. "

"Why, of course you do, " returned the artless girl. "You can't helpit. You have just _got_ to love me and everything and everybody. That's reflecting God. "

He had not meant to say that. But it had been floating like foam onhis tossing mind. He took her hand. 

"You are going away from me, " he continued, almost in a whisper. 

"Why, no, Padre, " she replied quickly; "you are going too! PadreRosendo said we could start to-morrow at sunrise. "

"I do not go, " he said in a quavering voice. "I remain, in Simití. "

She looked up at him wonderingly. What meant this change which hadcome over him so suddenly? She drew closer. 

"Why, Padre?" she whispered. 

His mother's face hovered before him in the dim light. Behind hera mitered head, symbolizing the Church, nodded and beckonedsignificantly. Back of them, as they stood between him and thegirl, he saw the glorified vision of Carmen. It was his problem. Heturned wearily from it to the gentle presence at his side. 

"Why, Padre dear?" came again the soft question. 

"I stay--to work out--my problem, " was his scarcely audible reply. 

The girl did not speak. But her breath came more quickly, and her handclosed more tightly about his. 

"Dearest one, " he murmured, bending over the brown curls, "it is God'sway, I guess. Perhaps in the years which I have spent here with you Ihave had the time and the opportunity to work out my salvation. I amsure that I have. But, though I strove in my way, I could not quicklyacquire your spirituality. I could not at once shake loose thosepoisonous thoughts of a lifetime, which have at last becomeexternalized in separation from all that I hold dearest in this life, you, my beloved girl, you. " He buried his face in her luxuriant hairand strove to hold back the rush of scalding tears. 

"It but shows how poisonous thoughts separate us from all that isgood--even from God, " he continued in a choked voice. "Oh, my sweetgirl, I love you as it seems to me no human being could love another!It has been so from that first day when, a mere babe, your wonderfuleyes held me until I could read in them a depth of love for mankindthat was divine. " It did not seem to him that a mature man wasspeaking to a mere girl. She seemed, as always, ages beyond him inwisdom and experience. 

Carmen reached up and wound her arms about his neck. He bent low andkissed her brow. Then he drew himself up quickly and resumed hisbroken talk. 

"I believed at first that my salvation lay in you. And so it did, forfrom your clear thought I gleaned my first satisfying knowledge of thegreat principle, God. But alas! I could not seem to realize thatbetween recognizing righteousness as 'right-thinking' and dailypracticing it so as to 'prove' God there was a great difference. Andso I rested easy in my first gleams of truth, expecting that theywould so warm my soul that it would expand of itself out of allerror. "

She made as if to reply, but he checked her. 

"I learned enough, I repeat, those first few months here to haveenabled me to work out my salvation, even though with fear andtrembling. But I procrastinated; I vacillated; I still clung toeffete beliefs and forms of thought which I knew were bound tomanifest in unhappiness later. I was afraid to boldly throw myselfupon my thought. I was mesmerized. Yes, the great Paul was at timesunder the same mesmeric spell of human belief, even after he had seenthe vision of the Christ. But he worked his way steadily out. And nowI see that I must do likewise, for salvation is an individualexperience. No vicarious effort, even of the Christ himself, can savea man. The principle is already given us. We must apply it to ourproblems ourselves. My unfinished task--scarcely even begun!--liesstill before me. My environment is what I have made it by my ownthought. I believe you, that I can enter another only as I externalizeit through righteousness, right-thinking, and 'proving' God. "

He paused and bent over the silent little figure nestling so quietlyat his side. His throat filled. But he caught his breath and went on. 

"You, Carmen, though but a child in years, have risen beyond me, andbeyond this lowly encompassment. Why, when you were a mere babe, youshould have grasped your padre Rosendo's casual statement that 'God iseverywhere, ' and shaped your life to accord with it, I do not know. Nor do you. That must remain one of the hidden mysteries of God. Butthe fact stands that you did grasp it, and that with it as a lightunto your feet you groped your way out of this environment, avoidingall pitfalls and evil snares, until to-day you stand at the thresholdof another and higher one. So progress must ever be, I now realize. Upwe must rise from one plane of human mentality to another, sifting andsorting the thoughts that come to us, clinging to these, discardingthose, until, even as you have said, we learn at last instantly toaccept those that mirror forth God, infinite, divine mind, and toreject those that bear the stamp of supposition. "

"Padre, " the girl said, lifting her beautiful face to his, "I havetold you so often--when a thought comes to me that I think is not fromGod, or does not reflect Him, I turn right on it and kill it. Youcould do the same, if you would. "

"Assuredly, child--if I would!" he replied in bitterness of heart. "Socould all mankind. And then the millennium would be with us, and thekingdom of heaven revealed. The mesmeric belief in evil as an entityand a power opposed to good alone prevents that. Destroy this belief, and the curtain will instantly rise on eternity. "

His eyes struggled with hers, as he gazed long and wistfully intothem. Lost in his impassioned speech, he had for the moment seemed tobe translated. Then a surge of fear-thoughts swept him, and left himdwelling on the hazardous journey that awaited her. He wildly clutchedher again to his side. 

"Carmen--child--how can I let you go! So young, so tender! And thatawful journey--two hundred miles of unknown jungle, to the far-offNechí! And then the burning river, to Cartagena, where--where _he_ is!And the States--God, what awaits you there!"

"Padre, " she answered softly, "I shall not go unless it is right. Ifit is right, then God will take care of me--and of you. "

Again she saw only the "right-best" thought, while he sat tremblingbefore its opposite. And the opposite was as yet a supposition!

"Padre dear, there is no separation, you know. God is everywhere, andso there is no separation from good--is there?"

"Not in your thought, dearest child, " he murmured huskily. 

"Well, Padre dear, I am still with you, am I not? Can't you live oneday at a time? That is what Jesus taught us. You are borrowing fromto-morrow, and you have no right to do it. That's stealing. God says, 'Thou shalt not steal, ' even from to-morrow. "

Yes, she was still at his side. Perhaps she would not go, after all. He was borrowing, and borrowing supposition. The thought seemed tolighten his load momentarily. 

"Padre dear. "

"Yes, _chiquita_. "

"You have been thinking so many bad thoughts of late--I don't supposeyou have had any good thoughts at all about Anita's little babe?"

"The babe?" in a tone of astonishment. 

"Yes. You know, it is not blind. You promised me that every day youwould just _know_ that. "

The rebuke smote him sore. Aye, his crowning sin was revealed again inall its ugly nakedness. Egoism! His thought was always of his owntroubles, his own longings, his own fears. Self-centeredness had leftno room for thoughts of Ana's blind babe. And why was he now strainingthis beautiful girl to himself? Was it fear for her, or for himself?Yet she gave but little heed to her own needs. Always her concern wasfor others, others who stumbled and drooped because of the humanmind's false, unreal, undemonstrable beliefs and ignorance of theallness of God. 

"Ah, child, " he exclaimed penitently, "such love! How could I dare tohope ever to claim it! How can you say that you love me?"

"Why, Padre, I love the real 'you, ' the 'you' that is going to bebrought out, and that will become more and more clear, until at lastit stands as the perfect reflection of God. Haven't I told you that, time and time again?"

"Yes, child. You love the ideal. But--to live with me--to be my--"

"Well, Padre, if we were not still human we would not be thinking thatwe were on earth. We have got to work out of this human way ofthinking and living. And it has seemed to me that you and I could workout of it so much better together, you helping me, manifesting God'sprotection and care, and I helping you, as you say I can and do. Andhow can we live together and work together unless we marry? Ages makeno difference! And time is only a human concept. "

He would not try to explain her reasoning, her contempt forconvention. It would be gratuitous. As for him, women had neverconstituted a temptation. He knew that he loved this simple, ingenuousgirl with a tenderness of passion that was wholly free from the drossof mesmerism. With that he remained content. 

"Padre, if you think you must stay here for a little while, to workout your problem, why, I shall just _know_ that evil can not separateus. I don't like to even seem to go away without you. But--it will beonly seeming, after all, won't it? God's children can not really beseparated--never!"

She was still paying faithful tribute to her vision of the spiritualuniverse. And how her words comforted him! How like a benison theyflowed over his drooping spirits!

"And now, Padre dear, " she said, rising from the bench, --"we have doneall we could--left everything with God--haven't we? I must go now, formadre Maria told me to come back soon. She needs me. "

"Don't--no, not yet! Wait--Carmen! Sing for me--just once more! Singagain the sweet melody that I heard when I awoke from the fever thatday long ago!"

He drew her unresisting to his side. Nestling close against him, herhead resting on his shoulder and her hand in his, she sang again thesong that had seemed to lift him that distant day far, far above thepitiful longings and strivings of poor humanity, even unto the gatesof the city of eternal harmony. 

She finished, and the last clear, sweet note echoed through the mustyroom and died among the black rafters overhead. A holy silence fellupon them as they sat, hand in hand, facing the future. Hot tears werestreaming down the man's cheeks. They fell sparkling like drops ofdew upon her brown curls. But he made no complaint. The girl, obedientto the vision, was reaping her reward. He, timid, wavering, doubting, was left, still pecking at the shell of his dreary environment. It wasbut the working of the infinite law of cause and effect. But did heimagine that out in the world she would not still find tribulation, even as the Saviour had said? Aye, she would, in abundance! But sheleaned on her sustaining God. Her Christ had overcome the world. Andso should she. She had already passed through such fiery trials thathe knew no contrary belief in evil now could weaken or counterbalanceher supreme confidence in immanent good. 

"Padre dear. "

"_Chiquita_. "

"If I have to go and leave you, will you promise me that you will actyour knowledge of the Christ-principle and work out your problem, sothat you may come to me soon?"

The tug at his heartstrings brought a moan to his lips. He smotheredit. "Yes, _chiquita_. "

"And--you will keep your promise about Anita's babe?"

"Yes. "

She rose and, still holding his hand, led him down the hill and toRosendo's house. 

Throughout the remainder of that feverishly busy day the priest clungto the girl like a shadow. They talked together but little, for shewas in constant demand to help her foster-mother in the preparationsfor the long journey. But Josè was ever at her side. Again and againhe would seize her hand and press it to his burning lips. Again andagain he would stroke her soft hair, or stretch out his hand to touchher dress as she passed him. Always when she glanced up at him thesame sweet, compassionate smile glowed on her face. When she left thehouse, he followed. When she bent over the ash-strewn fireplace, orwashed the few plain dishes, he sought to share her employment; and, when gently, lovingly repulsed, sat dully, with his yearning eyesriveted upon her. Rosendo saw him, and forgot his own sorrow in pityfor the suffering priest. 

The preparations carried the toilers far into the night. But at lengththe last bundle was strapped to its _siete_, the last plan discussedand agreed upon, and the two Americans had thrown themselves upontheir cots for a brief rest before dawn. Rosendo took Josè aside, while Doña Maria and Carmen sought their beds. 

"Fernando sends Juan to Bodega Central at daybreak, " the old man said. "All has been kept secret. No one suspects our plans. Maria remainshere with you until I return. Then we may go to the _hacienda_ of DonNicolás, on the Boque. I shall tell him to have it in readiness on myreturn. I shall probably not get back to Simití for two months. If, asyou say, you still think best not to go with the Americans and thegirl, what will you do here? The people are much divided. Some saythey intend to ask the Bishop to remove you. _Bien_, will you notdecide to go?"

Josè could not make audible reply. He shook his head, and wavedRosendo away. Then, taking a chair, he went into the sleeping room andsat down at the bedside of the slumbering girl. Reaching over, he tookher hand. 

What was it that she had said to him that day, long gone, when Diegoclaimed her as his child? Ah, yes:

"Don't feel badly, Padre dear. His thoughts have only the minussign--and that means nothing, you know. "

And later, many weeks later:

"Padre, you can not think wrong and right thoughts together, you know. You can not be happy and unhappy at the same time. You can not be sickand well together. " In other words, the wise little maid was trying toshow him that Paul spoke directly to such as he when he wrote: Know yenot, that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, his servantsye are--?

"You can not have both good and evil, Padre, " she had so ofteninsisted. "You must want good--want it more than anything else. Andthen you must prepare for it by thinking right thoughts and unthinkingwrong ones. And as you prepare for good, you must _know_ that it iscoming. But you must not say how it shall come, nor what it shall looklike. You must not say that it shall be just as you may think youwould like to have it. Leave the--the externalization to God. Then itwill meet all your needs. 

"You see, Padre dear"--oh, how the memory of her words smote himnow!--"you see, the good Jesus told the people to clean theirwindow-panes and let in the light--good thoughts--for then these wouldbe externalized in health, happiness, and all good, instead of theold, bad thoughts being externalized longer in sickness and evil. Don't you see?"

Aye, he saw. He saw that the Christ-idea found expression andreflection in the pure mentality of this girl. He saw that thatmentality was unsullied, uneducated in the lore of human belief, anduntrained to fear. He saw that the resurrection of the Christ, forwhich a yearning world waits, was but the rising of the Christ-ideain the human mentality. And he saw, too, that ere the radiantresurrection morn can arrive there must be the crucifixion, aworld-wide crucifixion of human, carnal thought. Follow Christ! Aye, follow him! But will ye not learn that following him means _thinking_as he did? And his thoughts were God's. 

But Josè had tried to think aright during those years in Simití. True, but the efforts had been spasmodic. From childhood he had passedthrough doubt, fear, scepticism, and final agnosticism. Then he hadstarted anew and aright. And then had come the "day of judgment, " therecurrent hours of sore trial--and he had not stood. Called upon toprove God, to prove the validity of his splendid deductions, he hadvacillated between the opposing claims of good and evil, and hadfloundered helplessly. And now he stood confronting his still unsolvedproblem, realizing as never before that in the solving of it he mustunlearn the intellectual habits of a lifetime. 

There were other problems which lay still unsolved before him as hesat there that night. The sable veil of mystery which hung aboutCarmen's birth had never been penetrated, even slightly. What woman'sface was that which looked out so sadly from the little locket?"Dolores"--sorrowful, indeed! What tragedy had those great, mournfuleyes witnessed? No, Carmen did not greatly resemble her. He used tothink so, but not of late. Did she, he wondered, resemble the man? Andhad the mother's kisses and hot tears blurred the portrait beneathwhich he had so often read the single inscription, "Guillermo"? If so, could not the portrait be cleaned? But Josè himself had not daredattempt it. Perhaps some day that could be done by one skilled in suchart. 

And did Carmen inherit any of her unique traits from either of herparents? Her voice, her religious instinct, her keen mentality--whencecame they? "From God, " the girl would always answer whenever he voicedthe query in her presence. And he could not gainsay it. 

Seven years had passed. And Josè found himself sitting beside thesleeping girl and dumbly yielding to the separation which now hadcome. Was his work finished? His course run? And, if he must live andsolve his problem, could he stand after she had left? He bent closerto her, and listened to the gentle breathing. He seemed again to seeher, as he was wont in the years past, flitting about her diminutiverose garden and calling to him to come and share her boundless joy. "Come!" he heard her call. "Come, Padre dear, and see my beautifulthoughts!" And then, so often, "Oh, Padre!" bounding into his arms, "here is a beautiful thought that came to me to-day, and I caught itand wouldn't let it go!" Lonely, isolated child, having nothing incommon with the children of her native heath, yet dwelling ever in aworld peopled with immaculate concepts!

Josè shook his head slowly. He thought of the day when he hadapproached Rosendo with his great question. "Rosendo, " he had said indeep earnestness, "where, oh, where did Carmen get these ideas? Didyou teach them to her?"

"No, Padre, " Rosendo had replied gravely. "When she was a littlething, just learning to talk, she often asked about God. And one day Itold her that God was everywhere--what else could I say? _Bien_, astrange light came into her eyes. And after that, Padre, she talkedcontinually about Him, and to Him. And she seemed to know Him well--sowell that she saw Him in every thing and every place. Padre, it isvery strange--very strange!"

No, it was not strange, Josè had thought, but beautifully natural. Andlater, when he came to teach her, his constant endeavor had been toimpart his secular knowledge to the girl without endangering hermarvelous faith in her immanent God. In that he had succeeded, for inthat there had been no obstructing thoughts of self to overcome. 

And now--

"For a small moment have I forsaken thee; but with great mercies willI gather thee--"

The night shadows fled. Day dawned. Josè still sat at the girl'sbedside, dumb and motionless. Carmen awoke, and threw her arms abouthim. But Rosendo appeared and hurried her out to the light morningrepast, for they must lose no time in starting. Every moment now wasprecious. By ten o'clock the savannas would be too hot to cross, andthey lay some distance from Simití. Reed and Harris were bustlingabout, assembling the packers and cracking jokes as they strapped thechairs to the men's backs. Doña Maria's eyes were red with weeping, but she kept silence. Josè wandered about like a wraith. Don Jorgegrimly packed his own kit and prepared to set out for the Magdalena, for he had suddenly announced his determination not to accompanyRosendo and his party, but to go back and consult with Don CarlosNorosí in regard to the future. An hour later he left Simití. 

At last Rosendo's voice rang out in a great shout:

"_Ya está! Vámonos!"_

"Bully-bueno!" responded Harris, waving his long arms. 

The _cargadores_ moved forward in the direction of the Boque trail. The Americans, with a final _adios_ to Doña Maria and the priest, swung into line behind them. Rosendo again tenderly embraced hisweeping spouse, and then, turned to Josè. 

"The Virgin watch over you and Maria, Padre! I leave her in your care. If the war comes, flee with her to the Boque. "

He threw an arm about the priest and kissed him on both cheeks. Then, calling to Carmen, he turned and started after the others. 

The girl rushed into Josè's arms. Her tears flowed freely. 

"Padre, " she murmured, clinging to him and showering him with kisses, "I love you, love you, love you! I will wait for you up there. Youwill come--or I will come back to you. And I will work for you everyday. I will know that you are God's child, and that you will solveyour problem!"

Rosendo, half way down the road, turned and called sharply to her. Thegirl hurried after him. But again she stopped, turned around, and flewback to Josè, as he knelt in the dust and, with tongue cleaving to hismouth, held out his trembling arms. 

"Padre, dearest, dearest Padre, " she sobbed, "I love you, I love you!And--I had forgotten--this--it is for you to read every day--everyday!" She thrust a folded paper into his hand. Again she tore herselfaway and ran after the impatient Rosendo. In a moment they were out ofsight. 

A groan of anguish escaped the stricken priest. He rose from his kneesand followed stumbling after the girl. As he reached the shales he sawher far in the distance at the mouth of the trail. She turned, andwaved her hand to him. Then the dark trail swallowed her, and he sawher no more. 

For a moment he stood like a statue, striving with futile gaze topenetrate that black opening in the dense bush that had engulfed hisvery soul. His bloodshot eyes were wild. His lips fluttered. His handclosed convulsively over the paper which the girl had left with him. Mechanically he opened it and read:

 "Dearest, dearest Padre, these four little Bible verses I leave with you; and you will promise your little girl that you will always live by them. Then your problem will be solved. 

 "1. Thou shall have no other gods before me. 

 "2. Love thy neighbor as thyself. 

 "3. Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect. 

 "4. Whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. 

 "And, Padre, my dearest, dearest Padre, _God is everywhere_. "

His hand fell. His brain reeled, and he swayed like a drunken man. Heturned about, muttering incoherently. Doña Maria stood behind him. Tenderly taking his arm, she led him back to the forlorn little house. Its ghastly emptiness smote him until his reason tottered. He sankinto a chair and gazed with dull, stony eyes out over the placidlake, where the white beams of the rising sun were breaking intomyriad colors against the brume. 

CHAPTER 37

The two hundred miles which lay before Rosendo and his little bandstretched their rugged, forbidding length through ragged cañons, rushing waters, and dank, virginal forest. Only the old man, as hetrudged along the worn trail between Simití and the Inanea river, where canoes waited to transport the travelers to the little villageof Boque, had any adequate conception of what the journey meant. Eventhe _cargadores_ were unfamiliar with the region which they were topenetrate. Some of them had been over the Guamocó trail as far asCulata; a few had ascended the Boque river to its farthest navigablepoint. But none had penetrated the inmost reaches of the great cañonthrough which the headwaters tumbled and roared, and none had everdreamed of making the passage over the great divide, the _BarraPrincipal_, to the Tiguí beyond. 

To the Americans, fresh from the luxury and convention of city life, and imbued with the indomitable Yankee spirit of adventure, theprospect was absorbing in its allurements. Especially to theexcitable, high-strung Harris, whose great eyes almost popped from hishead at the continuous display of tropical marvels, and whoseexclamations of astonishment and surprise, enriched from hisinexhaustible store of American slang and miner's parlance, burst fromhis gaping mouth at every turn of the sinuous trail. From the outset, he had constituted himself Carmen's special protector, althoughmuch to Rosendo's consternation, for the lank, awkward fellow, whoselean shoulders bent under the weight of some six-feet-two ofheight, went stumbling and tripping along the way, swaying againstevery tree and bush that edged the path, and constantly giving noisyvent to his opinions regarding trails in general, and those of thetropics in particular. His only accouterment was a Winchesterrifle of tremendous bore, which he insisted on carrying in constantreadiness to meet either beasts of prey or savage Indians, butwhich, in his absent-mindedness and dreamy preoccupation, heeither dragged, muzzle up, or carried at such dangerous angles thatthe natives were finally obliged, in self-protection, to insistthat he hand the weapon over to Rosendo. To Carmen, as the dayspassed and she gradually recognized his sterling qualities, hebecame a source of delight. Hour after hour she trotted along afterhim, chatting merrily in her beloved English tongue, poking fun athis awkwardness, and laughing boisterously over his quaint slang andnaïve Yankee expressions. She had never heard such things from Josè;nor had the priest, despite his profound knowledge, ever told hersuch exciting tales as did Harris, when he drew from his store offrontier memories and colored his narratives with the rich tintsfurnished by his easy imagination. 

The first day out had been one of mental struggle for the girl. Shehad turned into the trail, after waving a last farewell to Josè, witha feeling that she had never experienced before. For hours she trudgedalong, oblivious of her environment, murmuring, "It isn't true--itisn't true!" until Harris, his curiosity aroused by the constantrepetition which floated now and then to his ears, demanded to knowwhat it was that was so radically false. 

"It isn't true that we can be separated, " she answered, looking at himwith moist eyes. 

"We?" he exclaimed. 

"Yes, God's children--people--people--who--love each other, " shereplied. Then she dropped her eyes in evident embarrassment, andrefused to discuss the topic further. 

"Lord Harry!" ejaculated Harris, pondering the cryptical remark, "yousurely are a queer little dud!"

But the girl turned from him to Rosendo. He understood her. Nor wouldshe permit the old man to leave her until, late that night, exhaustedby the excitement of the day, she dropped asleep in the house of DonNicolás, on the muddy margin of the river Boque, still clinging toRosendo's hand. 

Despite the protestations of Don Nicolás and the pleading of the_cargadores_, Rosendo stolidly refused to spend a day at Boque. Apprehension lashed him furiously on. They were still within reach ofthe federal authorities. He dared not rest until the jungle hadswallowed them. 

"Ah, _compadre_, " said Don Nicolás, in disappointment, "I would likemuch for you to enjoy my house while it is still clean. For the antshave visited me. _Hombre_! they swarmed down upon us but a day ago. They came out of the bush in millions, straight for the house. Wefled. _Caramba_! had we remained, we should have been eaten alive. Butthey swept the house--_Hombre_! no human hands could have done sowell. Every spider, every rat, beetle, flea, every plague, wasinstantly eaten, and within a half hour they had disappeared again, and we moved back into a thoroughly cleaned house!"

Harris stood with mouth agape in mute astonishment when Carmen, whomhe had constituted his interpreter, translated to him the story. 

That evening, after they had eaten out in the open before the house, and the Americans had tickled the palates of the villagers with sometinned beef of uncertain quality, Don Nicolás approached Reed. "Señor, " he said, "my mother, now very aged, is sick, and we think shecan not recover. But you Americanos are wonderfully skilled, and yourmedicines powerful. Have you not some remedy in your pack that willalleviate the good woman's sufferings? They are severe, señor. "

Reed knew how great was the faith of these simple people in the wisdomof the American, and he had reason to wish to preserve it. But he hadcome into that country illy prepared to cope with disease, and hismedical equipment contained nothing but quinine. He reflected amoment, then turned to Harris. 

"Did you smuggle any of your beloved root-beer extract into theequipment?" he inquired, his eyes twinkling. 

Harris looked sheepish, but returned a sullen affirmative. 

"Well, " continued Reed, "dig out a bottle and we'll fix up a dose ofpain-killer for our worthy host's mother. "

Then he turned to Don Nicolás. "Cierto, señor, " he said with an air ofconfidence. "I have a remedy which I know to be unfailing for anydisease. "

He disappeared into the house, from which he emerged again in a fewmoments with an empty cola bottle. Washing this clean in the river, hepartly filled it with water. Then he poured in the small bottle ofroot-beer extract which Harris handed him, and added a few grains ofquinine. Shaking the mixture thoroughly, he carried it to DonNicolás. 

"Be very careful, señor, " he admonished, giving him the bottle. "It isa medicine extremely powerful and immediate in its action. Give theseñora a small teaspoonful every hour. By morning you will notice amarked change. "

Don Nicolás's eyes lighted with joy, and his gratitude poured forth inextravagant expressions. 

With the first indications of approaching day Rosendo was abroad, rounding up his cargadores, who were already bickering as to theirrespective duties, and arranging the luggage in the canoes for theriver trip. Additional boats and men had been secured; and Don Nicoláshimself expressed his intention of accompanying them as far as hishacienda, Maria Rosa, a day's journey up-stream. 

"It was there that I hid during the last revolution, " he said, "whenthe soldiers burned the village and cut off the ears and fingers ofour women for their rings. Ah, señores, you can not know how wesuffered! All my goods stolen or burned--my family scattered--my_finca_ destroyed! We lived two years at Maria Rosa, not daring tocome down the river again. We wore the skins of animals for clothing. _Caramba_!" His eyes burned fiercely as he spoke, and his hands openedand closed convulsively. He was a representative of that large classof _rurales_ upon whom the heaviest burdens, the greatest suffering, and the most poignant sorrow attending a political revolution alwaysfall. 

"But, señor!" he exclaimed, suddenly turning to Reed, "I had all butforgotten! My mother, she sends for you. She would see the kindAmerican whose remedies are so wonderful. For, señor, she rose fromher bed this morning restored! And you must leave us another bottle ofthe remedy--at whatever price, señor!"

Reed gazed at the man uncomprehendingly, until at length the truthdawned upon him. His root-beer remedy had done its work! Then a broadgrin mantled his face; but he quickly suppressed it and went with DonNicolás to receive in person his patient's effusive thanks. When hereturned and took his place in the waiting boat, he shook his head. "It's past all understanding, " he muttered to Harris, "what faith willdo! I can believe now that it will remove mountains. "

Throughout the long, interminably long, hot day the perspiring menpoled and paddled, urged and teased, waded and pushed against theincreasing current, until, as the shadows began to close around them, they sighted the scarcely visible opening in the bush which marked thetrail to the _hacienda_ of Maria Rosa. It was a desperately lonelyclearing on the verge of the jungle; but there were two thatch-coveredsheds, and to the exhausted travelers it gave assurance of rest andprotection. Before they made the landing Rosendo's sharp eyes hadspied a large ant-eater and her cub, moving sluggishly through thebush; and Reed's quick shots had brought them both down. The men'seyes dilated when the animals were dragged into the canoes. It meantfresh meat instead of salt _bagre_ for at least two days. 

Early next morning the travelers bade farewell to Don Nicolás and settheir course again up-stream. They would now see no human being otherthan the members of their own little party until they reached Llano, on the distant Nechí. 

"Remember, " called Don Nicolás, as the canoes drifted out into thestream, "the _quebrada_ of Caracolí is the third on the right. An oldtrail used to lead from there across to the Tiguicito--but I doubt ifyou find even a trace of it now. There is no water between that pointand the Tiguicito. _Conque, adios, señores, adios_!"

The hallooing of farewells echoed along the river and died away in thedark forest on either hand. Harris and Reed settled back in theircanoe and yielded to the fascination of the slowly shifting scene. Carmen chose to occupy the same canoe with them, and perforce Rosendoacted as _patron_. They therefore took the lead. Between his kneesReed held the rifle upright, in readiness for any animal whosecuriosity might bring it to the water's edge to view the rare pageantpassing through that unbroken solitude. 

The river was now narrowing, and there were often rapids whose ascentnecessitated disembarking from the canoes, while the _bogas_ strainedand teased the lumbering dugouts up over them. In places the streamwas choked by fallen trees and tangled driftwood, until only a narrow, tortuous opening was left, through which the waters raced like amill-course, making a heavy draft on the intuitive skill of the_bogas_. Often slender islets rose from the river; and then heated, chattering, often acrimonious discussions ensued among the men as tothe proper channel to take. Always on either side rose the matted, tangled, impenetrable forest wall of dense bush and giant trees, fromwhich innumerable trailers and _bejuco_ vines dropped into the watersbeneath. From the surface of the river to the tops of the great trees, often two hundred feet above, hung a drapery of creeping plants, ofparasitical growths, and diversified foliage, of the most vivid shadesof green, inextricably laced and interwoven, and dotted here and therewith orchideous flowers and strange blossoms, while in the temperedsunlight which sifted through it sported gorgeous insects andbutterflies of enormous size and exquisite shades, striped and spottedin orange, blue, and vivid red. Scarcely a hand's breadth of thejungle wall but contained some strange, eerie animal or vegetable formthat brought expressions of wonder and astonishment from theenraptured Americans. At times, too, there were grim tragedies beingenacted before them. In one spot a huge, hairy spider, whose delicate, lace-like web hung to the water's edge, was viciously wrapping itssilken thread about a tiny bird that had become entangled. Again, ashriek from beyond the river's margin told of some careless monkey orsmall animal that had fallen prey to a hungry jaguar. Above thetravelers all the day swung the ubiquitous buzzards, with theirwatchful, speculative eyes ever on the slowly moving cavalcade. 

Carmen sat enthralled. If her thought reverted at all to the priest, she gave no hint of it. But once, leaning back and gazing off intothe opalescent sky overhead, she murmured: "And to think, it is onlythe way the human mind translates God's ideas! How wonderful must theybe! And some day I shall see those ideas, instead of the mortal mind'sinterpretations of them!"

Harris heard her, and asked her to repeat her comments in English. Butshe refused. "You would not understand, " she said simply. And nobadinage on his part could further influence her. 

Rosendo, inscrutable and silent, showed plainly the weight ofresponsibility which he felt. Only twice that day did he emerge fromthe deep reserve into which he had retired; once when, in the fardistance, his keen eye espied a small deer, drinking at the water'sedge, but which, scenting the travelers, fled into cover ere Reedcould bring the rifle to his shoulders; and again, when they were upona jaguar almost before either they or the astonished animal realizedit. 

In the tempered rays of the late afternoon sun the flower-bespangledwalls of the forest became alive with gaily painted birds and insects. Troops of chattering monkeys awoke from their midday _siesta_ andscampered noisily through the treetops over the aerial highwaysformed by the liana vines, whose great bush-ropes, often a foot andmore in thickness, stretched their winding length long distancesthrough the forest, and bound the vegetation together in anintricate, impenetrable network. Yellow and purple blossoms, in ariot of ineffable splendor, bedecked the lofty trees and tangledparasitical creepers that wrapped around them, constitutingveritable hanging gardens. Great palms, fattened by the almostincessant rains in this hot-house of Nature, rose in the spacesunoccupied by the buttressed roots of the forest giants. Splendidlytailored kingfishers swooped over the water, scarce a foot above itssurface. Quarreling parrots and nagging macaws screamed theirinarticulate message to the travelers. Tiny forest gems, theinfinitely variegated _colibrí_, whirred across the stream andfollowed its margins until attracted by the gorgeous pendent flowers. On the _playas_ in the hazy distance ahead the travelers could oftendistinguish tall, solemn cranes, dancing their grotesque measures, orstanding on one leg and dreaming away their little hour of life inthis terrestrial fairy-land. 

Darkness fell, almost with the swiftness of a snuffed candle. For anhour Rosendo had been straining his eyes toward the right bank of theriver, and as he gazed his apprehension increased. But, as nightclosed in, a soft murmur floated down to the cramped, toil-worntravelers, and the old man, with a glad light in his eyes, announcedthat they were approaching the _quebrada_ of Caracolí. A half hourlater, by the weird, flickering light of the candles which Reed andHarris held out on either side, Rosendo turned the canoe into abrawling stream, and ran its nose into the deep alluvial soil. Plunging fearlessly through the fringe of delicate ferns which linedthe margin of the creek, he cut a wide swath with his great _machete_and uncovered a dim trail, which led to a ramshackle, thatch-coveredhut a few yards beyond. It was the tumbled vestige of a shelter whichDon Nicolás had erected years before while hunting wild pigs throughthis trackless region. An hour later the little group lay asleep onthe damp ground, wrapped in the solitude of the great forest. 

The silvery haze of dawn was dimming the stars and deepening intoruddier hues that tinged the fronds of the mighty trees as withstreaks of blood when Rosendo, like an implacable Nemesis, prodded hislittle party into activity. Their first day's march through thewilderness was to begin, and the old man moved with the nervous, restless energy of a hunted jaguar. The light breakfast of coffee andcold _arepa_ over, he dismissed the _bogas_, who were to return toBoque with the canoes, and set about arranging the cargo in suitablepacks for the _cargadores_ who were to accompany him over the longreaches of jungle that stretched between them and Llano. Two_macheteros_ were sent on ahead of the main party to locate and open atrail. The rest followed an hour later. Before the shimmering, opalescent rays which overspread the eastern sky had begun to turndownward, the little cavalcade, led by Rosendo, had taken the narrow, newly-cut trail and plunged into the shadows of the forest--

 "the great, dim, mysterious forest, where uncertainty wavers to an interrogation point. "

CHAPTER 38

The emotion of the jungle is a direct function of human temperament. Where one sees in it naught but a "grim, green sepulcher, " teeming withmalignant, destructive forces, inimical to health, to tranquillity, tolife, another--perhaps a member of the same party--will find in thewanton extravagance of Nature, her prodigious luxury, her infinitevariety of form, of color, and sound, such stimuli to the imagination, and such invitation to further discovery and development, as toconstitute a lure as insidious and unescapable as the habit which toooften follows the first draft of the opium's fumes. There are thosewho profess to have journeyed through vast stretches of SouthAmerican _selva_ without encountering a wild animal. Others, with sightand hearing keener, and with a sense of observation not dulled byfutile lamentations over the absence of the luxuries of civilizedtravel, will uncover a wealth of experiences which feed the memorythroughout their remaining years, and mold an irresistible desire topenetrate again those vast, teeming, baffling solitudes. 

It is true, the sterner aspect of the South American jungleaffords little invitation to repose or restful contemplation. Andthe charm which its riotous prodigality exerts is in no senseidyllic. For the jungle falls upon one with the force of a blow. Itgrips by its massiveness, its awful grandeur. It does not enticeadmiration, but exacts obeisance by brute force. Its silence is adull roar. Its rest is continuous motion, incessant activity. Thegarniture of its trackless wastes is that of great daubs of vividcolor, laid thick upon the canvas with the knife--never modulated, never worked into delicate shading with the brush, but attractingby its riot, its audacity, its immensity, its disdain of convention, its utter disregard of the canons cherished by the puny mind thatcontemplates it. The forest's appeal is a reflex of its own infinitecomplexity. The sensations which it arouses within the one who stepsfrom civilization into its very heart are myriad, and oftenterrible. The instinct of self-preservation is by it suddenly, rudely aroused and kept keenly alive. Its inhospitality is menacing. The roar of its howling monkeys strikes terror to the timid heart. The plaintive calls of its persecuted feathered denizens echo throughthe mysterious vastnesses like despairing voices from a spiritworld. The crashing noises, the strange, weird, unaccountablesounds that hurtle through its dimly lighted corridors blanch theface and cause the hand to steal furtively toward the looselysheathed weapon. The piercing, frenzied screams which arise withblood-curdling effect through the awful stillness of noonday or thedead of night, turn the startled thought with sickening yearningtoward the soft charms of civilization, in which the sense ofprotection is greater, even if actual security is frequently less. 

Because of Nature's utter disregard of the individual, life iseverywhere. And that life is sharply armed and on the defensive. The rising heat-waves hum with insects. The bush swarms with them. Their droning murmur crowds the air. The trunks of trees, thegreat, pendent leaves of plants, the trailing vines, slimy with dankvegetation, afford footing and housing to countless myriads ofthem, keenly alert, ferociously resistive. The decaying logs festerwith scorpions. The ground is cavernous with the burrows oflizards and crawling forms, with centipedes and fierce formicidae. Death and terror stalk hand in hand. But life trails them. Whereone falls, countless others spring up to fill the gap. The riversand _pantanos_ yield their quota of variegated forms. The flat_perania_, the dreaded electric eel, infests the warm streams, andinflicts its torture without discrimination upon all who dare invadeits domain. Snakes lurk in the fetid swamps and lagoons, thebrilliant coral and the deadly _mápina_. Beneath the forest leavescoils the brown adder, whose sting proves fatal within three days. 

To those who see only these aspects of the jungle, a journey such asthat undertaken by Rosendo and his intrepid little band would prove aterrifying experience, a constant repetition of nerve-shocks, underwhich the "centers" must ultimately give way. But to the twoAmericans, fresh from the mining camps of the West, and attuned to anypitch that Nature might strike in her marvelous symphony, theexperience was one to be taken in the same spirit as all else thatpertained to their romantic calling. Rosendo and his men accepted theday's stint of toil and danger with dull stolidity. Carmen threwherself upon her thought, and saw in her shifting environment only thehuman mind's interpretation of its mixed concept of good and evil. Theinsects swarmed around her as around the others. The tantalizing_jejenes_ urged their insidious attacks upon her, as upon the rest. Her hands were dotted with tiny blood-blisters where the ravenousgnats had fed. But she uttered no complaint; nor would she discuss thematter when Harris proffered his sympathy, and showed his own redhands. 

"It isn't true, " she would say. "But you have no religion, and youdon't understand--as yet. "

"Don't understand? And it isn't true, eh? Well, you have mightystrange beliefs, young lady!"

"But not as strange and illogical as those you hold, " she replied. 

"Oh, I don't believe anything, " he answered, with a shrug of hisshoulders. "I'm an agnostic, you know. "

"There is just where you mistake, Mr. Harris, " she returned gravely. "For, instead of not believing anything, you firmly believe in thepresence and power of evil. It is just those very people who boastthat they do not believe in anything who believe most thoroughly inevil and its omnipotence and omnipresence. "

Yes, even the animals which she saw about her were but the humanmind's concepts of God's ideas--not real. Adam had named them. In theBible allegory, or dream, the human, mortal mind names all its ownmaterial concepts. 

The days wore on with dull regularity. From the rippling Tiguicito, which they reached choking with thirst and utterly exhausted, theydropped down again to the Boque, where they established camps andbegan to prospect the Molino company's "near-mines, " as Harris calledthem after the first few unsuccessful attempts to get "colors" out ofthe barren soil. At certain points, where there seemed a more likelyprospect, they remained for days, until the men, under Rosendo'sguidance, could sink pits to the underlying bedrock. Such work wasdone with the crudest of tools--an iron bar, wooden scrapers in lieuof shovels, and wooden _bateas_ in which the men handed the looseneddirt up from one stage to another and out to the surface. It was slow, torturing work. The men grew restive. The food ran low, and theycomplained. 

Then Harris one evening stumbled upon a tapir, just as the greatanimal had forded the river and was shambling into the bushopposite. He emptied his rifle magazine into the beast. It fellwith a broken hip, and the men finished it with their _machetes_. Its hide was nearly a half inch in thickness, and covered with_garrapatas_--fierce, burrowing vermin, with hooked claws, whichcame upon the travelers and caused them intense annoyance throughoutthe remainder of the journey. 

Then Reed shot a deer, a delicate, big-eyed creature that had neverseen a human being and was too surprised to flee. Later, Fidel Avilafelled another with a large stone. And, finally, monkeys became soplentiful that the men all but refused to eat them any longer. 

Two weeks were spent around the mouth of the Tiguicito and the Boquecañon. Then Reed gave the order to advance. The little partyshouldered their packs and began the ascent of the ragged gorge. Fordays they clambered up and down the jagged walls of the cut, orskirted its densely covered margin. Twice Harris fell into thebrawling stream below, and was fished out by Rosendo, his eyespopping, and his mouth choked with uncomplimentary opinion regardingmountain travel in the tropics. Once, seizing a slender vine to aidhim in climbing, he gave a sudden lurch and swung out unexpectedlyover the gorge, hundreds of feet deep. Again Rosendo, who by this timehad learned to keep one eye on the ground and the other on theirresponsible Harris, rescued him from his perilous position. 

"Why don't you watch where you are going?" queried the laughingCarmen. 

"I might, " sputtered Harris, "if I could keep my eyes off of you. "Whereat Carmen pursed her lips and told him to reserve his complimentsfor those who knew how to appraise them rightly. 

They camped where night overtook them, out in the open, often fallingasleep without waiting to build a fire, but eating soggy corn _arepa_and tinned food, and drinking cold coffee left from the early morningrepast. But sometimes, when the fatigue of day was less, they wouldgather about their little fire, chilled and dripping, and beg Carmento sing to them while they prepared supper. Then her clear voice wouldring out over the great cañon and into the vast solitudes on eitherhand in strange, vivid contrast to the cries and weird sounds of thejungle; and the two Americans would sit and look at her as if theyhalf believed her a creature from another world. Sometimes Harriswould draw her into conversation on topics pertaining to philosophyand religion, for he had early seen her bent and, agnostic that hewas, delighted to hear her express her views, which to him were sochildishly impossible. But as often he would voluntarily retire fromthe conflict, sometimes shaking his head dubiously, sometimesmuttering his impatience with a mere child whose logic he, despite hiscollegiate training, could not refute. He was as full of philosophicaltheories as a nut with meat; but when she asked for proofs, for lesshuman belief and more demonstration, he hoisted the white flag andretired from the field. But his admiration for the child becamesincere. His respect for her waxed daily stronger. And by the timethey had reached the great divide through which the Rosario fell, hewas dimly aware of a feeling toward the beautiful creature who walkedat his side day after day, sharing without complaint hardship andfatigue that sorely taxed his own endurance, that was something morethan mere regard, and he had begun to speculate vaguely on a possiblefuture in which she became the central figure. 

At Rosario creek they left the great cañon and turned into the ruggeddefile which wound its tortuous course upward into the heights of the_Barra Principal_. They were now in a region where, in Rosendo'sbelief, there was not one human being in an area of a hundred squaremiles. He himself was in sore doubt as to the identity of the_quebrada_ which they were following. But it tallied with the briefdescription given him by Don Nicolás. And, moreover, which was evenmore important, as they began its ascent there came to him that senseof conviction which every true son of the jungle feels when he isfollowing the right course. He might not say how he knew he was right;but he followed the leading without further question. 

Up over the steep talus at the base of the cañon wall they clambered, up into the narrowing _arroyo_, cutting every foot of the way, for the_macheteros_ were now no longer keeping ahead of them--the commondanger held the band united. Often they believed they discoveredtraces of ancient trails. But the jealous forest had all butobliterated them, and they could not be certain. In the higher anddrier parts of the forest, where they left the creek and followedthe beds of dead streams, slender ditches through which the waterraced in torrents during the wet season, they were set upon bycountless swarms of bees, a strange, stingless variety that coveredthem in a buzzing, crawling mass, struggling and fighting for thesalt in the perspiration which exuded from the human bodies. Harrisswore he would cease to eat, for he could not take even a mouthfulof food without at the same time taking in a multitude of bees. Often, too, their _machetes_ cut into great hornet nests. Then, withthe shrill cry, "_Avispas_!" Rosendo would tear recklessly throughthe matted jungle, followed by his slapping, stumbling companions, until the maddened insects gave up the chase. Frequently theywalked into huge ant nests before they realized it, sometimes thegreat _tucanderas_, so ferociously poisonous. "Ah, señores, "commented Rosendo, as he once stopped to point out the marvelousroadway cut by these insects for miles straight through the jungle, "in the days of the Spaniards the cruel taskmasters would often tiethe weak and sick slaves to trees in the depths of the forest andlet these great ants devour them alive! Señores, you can never knowthe terrible crimes committed by the Spaniards!"

"And they were Christians!" murmured Harris, eying Carmen furtively. 

But she knew, though she voiced it not, that the Spaniard had neverknown the Christ. 

Night was spent on the summit of the divide. Then, without furtherrespite, Rosendo urged the descent. Down through ravines and gullies;over monster bowlders; waist deep through streams; down the sheersides of gorges on natural ladders formed by the hanging _mora_vines; skirting cliffs by the aid of tangled and interlaced rootsof rank, wet vegetation; and then down again into river bottoms, where the tenacious mud challenged their every step, and the streamsbecame an interminable morass, through which passage was possibleonly by jumping from root to root, where the gnarled feeders of thegreat trees projected above the bottomless ooze. The persecutionof the _jejenes_ became diabolical. At dawn and sunset the raucousbellow of the red-roarer monkeys made the air hideous. Theflickering lights of the forest became dismally depressing. The mengrew morose and sullen. Reed and Harris quarreled with each other onthe slightest provocation. 

Then, to increase their misery, came the rain. It fell upon them inthe river bottoms in fierce, driving gusts; then in sheets thatblotted out the forest and wet their very souls. The heavens splitwith the lightning. The mountains roared and trembled with the hideouscannonade of thunder. The jungle-matted hills ran with the flood. Anunvaried pall of vapor hung over the steaming ground, through whichuncanny, phantasmagoric shapes peered at the struggling little band. 

Again the sun burst forth, and a fiery vapor seethed above the moistearth. The reek of their damp clothing and the acrid odor of the wetsoil increased the enervation of their hard travel. Again and againthe peevish Harris accused Rosendo of having lost the way. The old manpatiently bore the abuse. Reed chided Harris, and at length quarreledviolently with him, although his own apprehension waxed continuallygreater. Carmen said little. Hour after hour she toiled along, floundering through the bogs, fording the deeper streams on Rosendo'sbroad back, whispering softly to him at times, often seizing andpressing his great horny hand, but holding her peace. In vain atevening, when gathered about the damp, smudging firewood, Harris wouldbring up to her the causes of her flight. In vain he would accuse theunfortunate Alcalde, the Bishop, the soldiers. Carmen refused to lendear to it, or to see in it anything more than a varied expression ofthe human mind. Personality was never for a moment considered. Shesaw, not persons, not things, but expressions of thought in thephenomena which had combined to urge her out of her former environmentand cast her into the trackless jungle. 

At length, one day, when it seemed to the exhausted travelers thathuman endurance could stand no more, Rosendo, who had long beenstraining his ears in the direction straight ahead, announced that thesinging noise which floated to them as they descended a low hill andplunged into a thicket of tall lush grass, undoubtedly came from theriver Tiguí. Another hour of straining and plunging through the densegrowth followed; and then, with a final effort, which manifested in asort of frenzied rush, the little band emerged suddenly upon the eastbank of the crystal stream, glittering and shimmering in the brightmorning sun as it sang and rippled on its solitary way through thegreat jungle. 

The men threw off their packs and sprawled full length upon theground. Rosendo pointed across the river. 

"La Colorado, " he said, indicating what the Americans at length madeout to be a frame house, looming above the high grass. "And there, "pointing to the north, "is _Pozo Cayman_, where the trail begins thatleads to La Libertad. "

That night, as they lay on the rough board floor of the house at LaColorado, Rosendo told them the story of the misguided Frenchmen who, years before, had penetrated this wild region, located a barren quartzvein, then floated a company and begun developments. A considerablecolony settled here. The soil was fertile; the undeveloped countryceaselessly rich in every resource, the water pure and sparkling, andabounding in fish. The climate, too, was moderate and agreeable. Itseemed to the foreigners a terrestrial paradise. But then came theinsidious fever. It crept out of the jungle like a thief in the night. One by one the Frenchmen fell sick and died. Panic seized upon them. Those unafflicted fled--all but one. He remained to protect thecompany's property. But he, too, fell a victim to the plague. One day, as he lay burning upon his bed, he called feebly to his one remainingservant, the native cook, to bring him the little package of quinine. She hastened to comply; but, alas! she brought the packet ofstrychnine instead, and soon he, too, had joined his companions inthat unknown country which awaits us all. The old woman fled interror; and the evil spirits descended upon the place. They haunt ityet, and no man approaches it but with trembling. 

Reed and Harris listened to the weird story with strange sensations. The clouds above had broken, and the late moon streamed through thenight vapor, and poured through the bamboo walls of the house. Thegiant frogs in the nearby creek awoke, and through the long nightcroaked their mournful plaint in a weird minor cadence that seemed tothe awed Americans to voice to the shimmering moon the countlesswrongs of the primitive Indians, who, centuries before, had roamedthis marvelous land in happy freedom, until the Spaniard descendedlike a dark cloud and, with rack and stake, fastened his blightingreligion upon them. 

A day's rest at La Colorado sufficed to revive the spirits of theparty and prepare them for the additional eight or ten hour journeyover boggy morass and steep hill to La Libertad. For this trip Rosendowould take only the Americans and Carmen. The _cargadores_ were not toknow the nature of this expedition, which, Rosendo announced, wasundertaken that the Americans might explore for two days the regionaround the upper Tiguí. The men received this explanation with gruntsof satisfaction. 

Trembling with suppressed excitement, oblivious now of fatigue, hunger, or hardship, Reed and Harris followed the old man that dayover the ancient, obliterated trail to the forgotten mine of DonIgnacio de Rincón. They experienced all the sensations of those whofind themselves at last on the course that leads to buried treasure. To Harris, the romance attaching to the expedition obliterated allother considerations. But Reed was busy with the practical end of it, with costs, with the problems of supplies, of transportation, andtrail. Carmen saw but one vision, the man in far-off Simití, whoseancestor once owned the great mine which lay just ahead of them. 

When night fell, the four stood, silent and wondering, at the mouth ofthe crumbling tunnel, where lay a rusted shovel bearing the scarcedistinguishable inscription, "I de R. "

 * * * * *

Two weeks later a group of natives, sitting at a feast of bakedalligator tail, at the mouth of the Amacerí, near the dirty, straggling riverine town of Llano, rose in astonishment as they sawissuing from the clayey, wallowing Guamocó trail a staggering band oftravelers, among them two foreigners, whose clothes were in shreds andwhose beards and unkempt hair were caked with yellow mud. With themcame a young girl, lightly clad and wearing torn rope _alpargates_ onher bare feet. The heat was descending in torrents. From theneighboring town floated a brawling bedlam of human voices. It wasSunday, and the villagers were celebrating a religious _fiesta_. 

"_Compadres_, " said Rosendo, approaching the half-intoxicated group. "The boat--which way?"

One of the group, his mouth too full to speak, pointed in expressivepantomime up-stream. Rosendo murmured a fervent "_Loado sea Dios_, "and sank upon the ground. 

"It will be down to-morrow--to-day, perhaps, " gurgled another of therapidly recovering feasters, his eyes roving from one member toanother of the weird-looking little band. 

"Lord Harry!" exclaimed Harris, as he squatted upon the damp groundand mopped his muddy brow. "I'm a salamander for heat, that'scertain!"

"Señor, " said Rosendo, addressing Reed, "it would be well to pay themen at once, for the boat may appear at any time, and it will not waitlong. "

While the curious group from the village crowded about and eagerlywatched the proceedings, Reed unstrapped his pack and drew out a bundleof Colombian bills, with which he began to pay the _cargadores_, according to the reckoning which Rosendo had kept. As the last man, with a grunt of satisfaction, received his money, Harris exclaimed:"And to think, one good American dollar is worth a bushel of that paperstuff!"

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when a shrill whistle cameechoing down the river. A cloud of smoke above the distant treetopsheralded the approach of the steamer. The little party had escaped await of a month in the drenching heat of Llano by the narrow margin ofan hour. 

Rosendo hastened to Reed and drew him aside. He tried to speak, butwords failed him. Reed took his hand. "I understand, my friend, " hesaid gently. "Have no fear. The mine is all I had anticipated. My wifeand I will care for the girl until we hear from you. And we will keepin touch with you, although it will take two months for a letter toreach us and our reply to get back again to Simití. The developmentcompany will be formed at once. Within six months you may expect tosee the work started. It is your fortune--and the girl's. "

Carmen drew close to Rosendo. "Padre, I am coming back to you--yes?"

"_Cierto, chiquita_!" The old man would not permit himself to saymore. The girl had known for some time that he was not to accompanyher to the States, and that she should not see Ana in Cartagena. Tothis she had at length accustomed herself. 

In a few minutes the lumbering boat had swung around and thrown outits gang plank. A hurried embrace; a struggle with rushing tears;another shriek from the boat whistle; and the Americans, with Carmenstanding mute and motionless between them, looked back at the fadinggroup on shore, where Rosendo's tall figure stood silhouettedagainst the green background of the forest. For a moment he held hisarm extended toward them. Carmen knew, as she looked at thegreat-hearted man for the last time, that his benediction wasfollowing her--following her into that new world into which he mightnot enter. 

 * * * * *

Reed lifted the silent, wondering, big-eyed girl from the dinkeytrain which pulled into Cartagena from Calamar ten days later, andtook her to the Hotel Mariana, where his anxious, fretting wifeawaited. Their boat had hung on a hidden bar in the Cauca riverfor four interminable, torturing days. 

CHAPTER 39

On the day that Carmen arrived in Cartagena, Rosendo staggered downthe Guamocó trail into Simití. On that same momentous day the flamesof war again flared up throughout the country. The Simití episode, inwhich the President had interfered, brought Congress to the necessityof action. A few days of fiery debate followed; then the noxiousmeasure was taken from the table and hastily enacted into a law. 

But news travels slowly in Latin America, and some time was requiredfor this act of Congress to become generally known. The delay sawCarmen through the jungle and down to the coast. There Reed lost notime in transacting what business still remained for him in Cartagena, and securing transportation for his party to New York. 

Josè, the shadow of his former self, clung pitiably to Rosendo's hand, imploring the constant repetition of the old man's narrative. Thencame Juan, flying to the door. He had seen and talked with thereturned _cargadores_. The girl had not come back with them. Hedemanded to know why. He became wild. Neither Josè nor Rosendo couldcalm him. At length it seemed wise to them both to tell him that shehad gone to the States with the Americans, and would return to Simitíno more. 

The blow almost crushed the lad. He rushed about the town half dazed. He gathered groups of companions about him and talked to themexcitedly. He threatened Rosendo and Josè. Then, evidently acting onthe advice of some cooler head, he rushed to his canoe and put offacross the lake toward the _caño_. He did not return for several days. But when he did, the town knew that he had been to Bodega Central, andthat the country was aflame with war. 

 * * * * *

Reed's wife had not received Carmen in an amiable frame of mind. "Forheaven's sake, Charles, " she had cried, turning from his embrace tolook at the wondering girl who stood behind him, "what have youhere?"

"Oh, that, " he laughingly replied, "is only a little Indian I lassoedback in the jungle. " And, leaving the girl to the not very tendergraces of his wife, he hurried out to arrange for the return voyage. 

At noon, when Harris appeared at Reed's room, Carmen rushed to him andbegged to be taken for a stroll through the town. Yielding to herhusband's insistence, Mrs. Reed had outfitted the girl, so that shepresented a more civilized appearance. At first Carmen had beendelighted with her new clothes. They were such, cheap as they were, asshe had never seen in Simití. But the shoes--"Ah, señora, " shepleaded, "do not make me wear them, they are so tight! I have neverworn shoes before. " She was beginning her education in the conventionsand trammels of civilization. 

As Carmen and Harris stood that afternoon in the public square, whilethe girl gazed enraptured at an equestrian statue of Simón Bolívar, aragged little urchin approached and begged them to buy an afternoonpaper. Harris humored him and bade Carmen ask him his name. 

"Rincón, " the lad answered, drawing himself up proudly. 

The girl started. "Rincón!" she repeated. "Why--where do you live?"

"In the Calle Lozano, " he replied, wondering why these people seemedinterested in him. 

Carmen translated the conversation to Harris. "Ask him who his fatheris, " suggested the latter. 

"I do not know, " replied the little fellow, shaking his head. "I neversaw him. He lives far away, up the great river, so Tia Catalina says. And she says he is a priest. "

The color suddenly left Carmen's cheeks. "Come with me to your home, "she said, taking his hand. 

The boy led them willingly through the winding streets to the littleupper room where, years before, he had first seen the light. 

"Tia Catalina, " he cried to the shabby woman who rose in amazement asthe visitors entered, "see, some strangers!"

Carmen lost no time, but went at once to the heart of her question. 

"The little fellow's father--he is a Rincón? And--he lives up thegreat river?"

The woman eyed her suspiciously for some moments without replying. Butthe boy answered for her. "Yes, señorita, " he said eagerly, "inSimití. And his name--I am named for him--it is Josè. And I am goingto visit him some day. Tia Catalina said I should, no, Tia?"

Harris fumbled in his pocket and drew out some money, which he handedto the woman. Her eyes lighted, and a cavernous smile spread over herwrinkled face. 

"_Ah, gracias, señor_, " she murmured, bending over his hand; "we needit. The boy's father has sent us but little of late. "

Carmen's heart was fluttering wildly. "Tell me, " she said in a coldvoice, "the boy's father is Padre Josè de Rincón, of Simití? You neednot fear to speak. We have just come from Simití, and have seen him. We are leaving to-morrow for the States. "

"Yes, señorita, " replied the woman in a thin, cracking voice, nowcompletely disarmed of her suspicion. "The little fellow was born heresome seven years ago. Ah, well I remember the day! And his mother, poor little lamb! She died the same night. But the good Padre has sentus money ever since to care for him, until of late. Señorita, why isit, think you, that he sends us so little now?"

"I--do--not--know, " murmured Carmen abstractedly, scarce hearing thewoman. Then she turned to the boy. She bent over him and looked longand wistfully into his eyes. He was a bright, handsome little fellow;and though her heart was crushed, she took him into it. Swallowing thelump which had come into her throat, she drew him to the window andsat down, holding him before her. 

"Your father--I know him--well. He is a--a good man. But--I did notknow--I never knew that he had a son. " She stopped, choking. 

"Tia Catalina says he is a fine man, " proudly answered the boy. "And she wants me to be a priest, too. But I am going to be abull-fighter. "

"It is true, señorita, " interposed the woman. "We cannot keep himfrom the _arena_ now. He hangs about it all day, and about theslaughter-house. We can hardly drag him back to his meals. Whatcan we do, señorita? But, " with a touch of pride as she looked at him, "if he becomes a bull-fighter, he will be the best of them all!"

Carmen turned again to the woman. Her question carried an appeal whichcame from the depths of her soul. "Señora, is there no doubt--no doubtthat Padre Rincón is the father of the boy?"

"We think not, señorita. The lad's mother died in the good Padre'sarms. She would not say positively who was the boy's father. Wethought at first--it was some one else. Marcelena insisted on it toher dying day. But now--now we know that it was Padre Josè. And he wassent to Simití for it. But--ah, señorita, the little mother was sobeautiful, and so good! She--but, señorita, you are not leaving sosoon?"

Carmen had risen. "Yes, my good señora, " she said wearily. "We mustnow return to the hotel. But--here is more money for the boy. And, señora, when I reach the States I will send you money every month forhim. "

She took Harris's hand. "Come, " she said simply, "I have seen enoughof the city. "

 * * * * *

At noon the next day a message from Bodega Central was put into thehand of the acting-Bishop of Cartagena, as he sat in his study, wrapped in the contemplation of certain papers before him. Hostilitieshad begun along the Magdalena river the day before. The gates ofCartagena were to be barricaded that day, for a boatload of rebels wasabout to leave Barranquilla to storm the city and seize, if possible, the customs. When he had read the message he uttered an exclamation. Had not the Sister Superior of the Convent of Our Lady reported thearrival of the daughter of Rosendo Ariza some days before? He seizedhis hat and left the room. 

Hastening to the Department of Police, he had a short interview withthe chief. Then that official despatched policemen to the office ofthe steamship company, and to the dock. Their orders were to arresttwo Americans who were abducting a young girl. They returned a halfhour later with sheepish faces. "Your Excellency, " they announced totheir chief, "the vessel sailed from the port an hour ago, with theAmericans and the girl aboard. "

The announcement aroused in Wenceslas the fury of a tiger. Exacerbationsucceeded surprise; and that in turn gave way to a maddening thirst forsanguinary vengeance. He hastened out and despatched a telegraphicmessage to Bogotá. Then he returned to his study to await its effect. 

Two days later a river steamer, impressed by the federal authorities, stopped at the mouth of the Boque, and a squad of soldiers marchedover the unfrequented trail to Simití, where they arrived as nightfell. Their orders were to take into custody the priest, Josè deRincón, who was accused of complicity in the recent plot to overthrowthe existing government. 

At the same time, on a vessel plowing its way into the North, a younggirl, awkwardly wearing her ill-fitting garments, hung over the railand gazed wistfully back at the Southern Cross. The tourists who sawher heterogeneous attire laughed. But when they looked into herbeautiful, sad face their mirth died, and a tender pity stirred theirhearts. 

CARMEN ARIZA

BOOK 3

 And while within myself I trace The greatness of some future race, Aloof with hermit-eye I scan The present works of present man, -- A wild and dream-like trade of blood and guile, Too foolish for a tear, too wicked for a smile!

 --_Coleridge. _

CARMEN ARIZA

CHAPTER 1

The blanket of wet fog which had hung over the harbor with suchexasperating tenacity lifted suddenly, late in the raw fall afternoon, and revealed to the wondering eyes of the girl who stood alone at therail of the _Joachim_ a confusion of mountainous shadows, studded withmyriad points of light which glittered and shimmered beneath the graypall. Across the heaving waters came the dull, ominous breathing ofthe metropolis. Clouds of heavy, black smoke wreathed about the bay. Through it shrieking water craft darted and wriggled in endlessconfusion. For two days the port of New York had been a bedlam of rawsound, as the great sirens of the motionless vessels roared theirraucous warnings through the impenetrable veil which enveloped them. Their noise had become acute torture to the impatient tourists, andadded bewilderment to the girl. 

The transition from the primitive simplicity of her tropical home hadnot been one of easy gradation, but a precipitate plunge. Theconvulsion which ensued from the culmination of events long gatheringabout little Simití had hurled her through the forest, down thescalding river, and out upon the tossing ocean with such swiftnessthat, as she now stood at the portal of a new world, she seemed to bewandering through the mazes of an intricate dream. During the oceanvoyage she had kept aloof from the other passengers, partly because ofembarrassment, partly because of the dull pain at her heart as shegazed, day after day, at the two visions which floated always beforeher: one, the haggard face of the priest, when she tore herself fromhis arms in far-off Simití; the other, that of the dark-faced, white-haired old man who stood on the clayey river bank at wretchedLlano and watched her, with eager, straining eyes, until the windingstream hid her from his earthly sight--forever. She wondered dully nowwhy she had left them, why she had so easily yielded to the influenceswhich had caused the separation. They might have fled to the jungleand lived there in safety and seclusion. The malign influences whichbeset them all in Simití never could have reached them in thetrackless forest. And yet, she knew that had not Rosendo and Josè heldout to her, almost to the last moment, assurances of a speedy reunion, she would not have yielded to the pressure which they had exerted, andto the allurements of life in the wonderful country to which they hadsent her. Her embarrassment on the boat was due largely to a sense ofawkwardness in the presence of women who, to her provincial sight, seemed visions of beauty. To be sure, the priest had often shown herpictures of the women of the outside world, and she had some idea oftheir dress. But that such a vast difference existed between theillustrations and the actualities, she had never for a momentimagined. Their gowns, their jewels, their coiffures held her inopen-mouthed marvel, until Mrs. Reed, herself annoyed and embarrassed, remanded her to her cabin and bade her learn the impropriety of suchmanners. 

Nor had the conduct of this lady throughout the voyage conduced toCarmen's happiness. Mrs. Reed showed plainly that the girl was anawkward embarrassment to her; that she was tolerated because ofreasons which pertained solely to her husband's business; and she tookpains to impress upon her fellow-travelers that, in view of theperplexing servant problem, this unmannered creature was being takento the States to be trained as a maid, though, heaven knew! thetraining would be arduous, and the result uncertain. 

Reed, though measurably kind, gave Carmen scant attention. Harrisalone saved the girl from almost complete neglect. He walked the deckwith her, regardless of the smiles of the other passengers. He taughther to play shuffle-board, checkers, and simple card games. Heconducted her over the boat and explained the intricate machinery andthe numberless wonders of the great craft. He sat with her out on thedeck at night and told her marvelous stories of his experiences infrontier camps. And at the table he insisted that she occupy the seatnext to him, despite the protestations of the chief steward, who wouldhave placed her apart with the servants. 

Carmen said little, but she clung to the man with an appeal which, though mute, he nevertheless understood. At Kingston he took her on adrive through the town, and bought post cards for her to send back toJosè and Rosendo. It consoled her immeasurably when he glowinglyrecounted the pleasure her loved ones would experience on receivingthese cards; and thereafter the girl daily devoted hours to thepreparation of additional ones to be posted in New York. 

The lifting of the fog was the signal for a race among the stalledcraft to gain the harbor entrance. The enforced retention of thevessels in the bay had resulted in much confusion in docking, and the_Joachim_ was assigned to a pier not her own. The captain grumbled, but had no choice. At the pier opposite there docked a huge liner fromHavre; and the two boats poured their swarming human freight into thesame shed. When the gang plank dropped, Harris took charge of Carmen, while Reed and his wife preceded them ashore, the latter giving alittle scream of delight as she spied her sister and some friends witha profusion of flowers awaiting her on the pier. She rushed joyfullyinto their arms, while Reed hastened to his equipage with a customsofficer. 

But as Harris and the bewildered Carmen pushed into the great crowd inthe shed, the absent-minded man suddenly remembered that he had left abundle of Panamá hats underneath his bunk. Dropping the girl's hand, the impetuous fellow tore back up the gang plank and dived into theboat. 

For a moment Carmen, stood in confusion, bracing herself againstthe swarming multitude, and clinging tenaciously to the small, paper-wrapped bundle which she carried. Her first impulse was tofollow Harris. But the eager, belated crowd almost swept her off herfeet, and she turned again, drifting slowly with it toward thedistant exit. As she moved uncertainly, struggling the while toprevent being crushed against the wall, she felt some one grasp herhand. 

"Oh, here you are!" sounded a gentle voice close to her ear. "Well, how fortunate! We thought we had lost you! Come, they are waiting forus up ahead. "

Carmen looked up at the speaker. It was a woman, comely of feature, and strikingly well dressed. The girl thought her beautiful. Theanxious fears of a moment before vanished. "Is he up there--Mr. Reed?"she asked quickly. 

"He? Oh, yes--Mr. Reed and the others are waiting for us. They sent meback to find you. The automobiles came for you all; but I presume theothers have gone by this time. However, you and I will follow in mine. I am Auntie. "

"His aunt?" the girl asked eagerly, as the woman forced a way for themthrough the mass of humanity. 

"Yes, dear. And I am so glad to see you. I have heard all about you. "

"Did he write to you--from Simití?"

"Yes, long letters. And he told all about his little girl. He saidyour name was--"

"Carmen, " interrupted the girl, with a great surge of gladness, forhere was one woman who did not avoid her. 

"Yes, Carmen. It is a sweet name. "

"But--Mr. Harris!" cried Carmen, suddenly stopping as she remembered. 

"Oh, did he wait? Well, he will come. He knows where to find theautomobiles. I will leave word with the pier-master to tell him. "

By this time they had wormed their way clear of the crowd and gainedthe street. The woman, still retaining Carmen's hand, went directly toa waiting automobile and pushed the unresisting girl through the opendoor. Carmen had never seen a conveyance like this, and her thoughtwas instantly absorbed. She looked wonderingly for the horses. Andthen, sinking into the luxurious cushions, she fell to speculating asto how the thing was moved. 

As the chauffeur reached back to close the door a policeman, who hadbeen eying the party since they came out of the shed, stepped up andlaid a hand on the car. 

"Er--little girl, " he said, looking in and addressing Carmen, "_you--you know this lady, do you_?"

"Yes, " replied Carmen, looking up confidently into the woman's smilingface. "She is Auntie, Mr. Reed's aunt. " She thought his blue uniformand shining buttons and star gorgeously beautiful. 

The officer stood hesitant a moment. Suspicion lurked in his eyes ashe looked at the woman and then back again at the girl. 

"She is a little girl who came up from the South with my nephew, Mr. Reed, " the woman explained easily. "But I don't wonder you asked. Iwill give you my card, if you wish. "

Her air was supremely confident. The chauffeur, too, as he got out andleisurely examined his engine, served further to disarm suspicion. Theofficer raised up and removed his hand from the machine. The chauffeurslowly mounted the box and threw on his lever. As the car moved gentlyinto the night the officer glanced at its number. "Hell!" he muttered, turning away. "What's the use? The number would be changed anyway. What's a fellow going to do in a case like this, I'd like to know--gowith 'em?"

Some minutes later, Harris, wild and disheveled, followed by Reed andhis party, emerged hurriedly into the street. 

"What you looking for?" asked the officer, planting himself in frontof Harris, and becoming vaguely apprehensive. 

"Girl!" sputtered Harris, his eyes protruding and his long arms pawingthe air. "Girl--so high--funny dress--big straw hat! Seen her?"

The officer gasped. "She's gone! Aunt took her just now in an auto!"

"Aunt!" yelled Harris. "She's got no aunt! She's from the jungle!"

For a moment they all stood silent, big-eyed and gaping. 

"Look here, Mr. Officer, " said Reed, interposing. "My name's Reed. Thegirl came up from South America with me. Describe the woman--"

"Reed!" cried the policeman excitedly, his eyes lighting. "That's it!Said she was your aunt!"

"Lord Harry! You great, blundering boob!" cried the distracted Harris, menacing the confused officer. "And you let her nab the kid?"

Night had fallen, and a curious crowd was gathering around theexcited, noisy group. Reed quickly signaled a taxicab and hustled thebewildered officer into it. "You, Harris, get the women folks home, and wait for me! I'll go to central with this officer and report thecase!"

"Not I!" exclaimed Harris wildly. "I'm going to visit every dance halland dive in this bloomin' town before I go home! I'm going to findthat girl! And you, you blithering idiot, " shaking a fist at theofficer, "you're going to lose your star for this!"

Meantime, the car, in which Carmen lay deep in the soft cushions, spedthrough the dusk like a fell spirit. A confused jumble of shadows flewpast, and strange, unfamiliar noises rose from the animated streets. The lights shimmered on the moist glass. It was confusing. The girlceased trying to read any meaning in it. It all fused into a blur; andshe closed her eyes and gave herself up to the novel sensationsstimulated by her first ride in a carriage propelled--she knew nothow. 

At length came a creaking, a soft, skidding motion, and the big carrolled up against a curb and stopped. 

"We are home now, " said the woman softly, as she descended and againtook Carmen's hand. They hurriedly mounted the white stone steps of atall, gloomy building and entered a door that seemed to opennoiselessly at their approach. A glare of light burst upon theblinking eyes of the girl. A negro woman softly closed the door afterthem. With a wondering glance, Carmen looked about her. In the room ather right she caught a glimpse of women--beautiful, they seemed toher--clad in loose, low-cut, gaily colored gowns. There were menthere, too; and some one sat at a piano playing sprightly music. Shehad seen pianos like that in Cartagena, and on the boat, and they hadseemed to her things bewitched. In the room at the end of the hall menand women were dancing on a floor that seemed of polished glass. Loudtalk, laughter, and singing floated through the rooms, and the airwas warm and stuffy, heavy with perfume. The odor reminded her of theroses in her own little garden in Simití. It was all beautiful, wonderful, fairy-like. 

But she had only a moment for this appraisal. Seizing her hand again, the woman whisked her up the flight of stairs before them and into awarm, light room. Then, without speaking, she went out and closed thedoor, leaving the girl alone. 

Carmen sank into a great, upholstered rocking chair and tried to graspit all as she swayed dreamily back and forth. So this was his home, Mr. Reed's. It was a palace! Like those Josè had described. Shewondered if Harris dwelt in a place of such heavenly beauty; for hehad said that he did not live with Reed. What would the stupid peopleof Simití think could they see her now! She had never dreamed thatsuch marvels existed in the big world beyond her dreary, dusty, littlehome town! Josè had told her much, ah, wonderful things! And so hadHarris. But how pitifully inadequate now seemed all their stories! Shestill wondered what had made that carriage go in which she had come upfrom the boat. And what would one like it cost? Would her interest inLa Libertad suffice to buy one? She speculated vaguely. 

Then she rose and wandered about the room. She passed her hand overthe clean, white counterpane of the bed. "Oh, " she murmured, "howbeautiful!" She went dreamily to the bureau and took up, one by one, the toilet articles that lay there in neat array. "Oh, oh, oh!" shemurmured, again and again. She glanced into the clear mirror. Thelittle figure reflected there contrasted so oddly with the gorgeouslybeautiful ones she had glimpsed below that she laughed aloud. Then shewent to the window and felt of the soft curtains. "It is heaven, " shemurmured, facing about and sweeping the room, "just heaven! Oh, howbeautiful even the human mind can be! I never thought it, I neverthought it!"

Again she sat down in the big rocker and gave herself up to the charmof her surroundings. Her glance fell upon a vase of flowers that stoodon a table near another window. She rose and went to them, bendingover to inhale their fragrance. "How strange!" she exclaimed, as shefelt them crackle in her fingers. Poor child, they were artificial!But she would learn, ere long, that they fittingly symbolized the lifeof the great city in which she was now adrift. 

Time passed. She began to wonder why the woman did not return. Werenot the Reeds anxious to know of her safe arrival? But perhaps theyhad visitors. Surely that was the case. It was a ball--but sodifferent from the simple, artless _baile_ of her native town. Straysnatches of music drifted into the room from the piano below. Itstimulated a hunger for more. She went to the door, thinking to openit a little and listen. The door was locked!

For a moment she stood reflecting. Then apprehension began to stealover her. She went hastily, instinctively, to a window and raised thecurtain. There were iron bars in front of it! She remembered suddenlythat prison windows were like that. She hurried to the other. It waslikewise barred. Terror's clammy hand gripped at her heart. Then shecaught herself--and laughed. "How silly!" she exclaimed, sinking againinto the rocker. "God is everywhere--right here!"

At that moment the door opened noiselessly and a woman entered. Shewas younger than the one who had met the boat. When she saw the girlshe uttered an exclamation. "Lord! where did you get those clothes?"

Carmen glanced down at her odd attire and then smiled up at the woman. "Cartagena, " she said simply. "Mrs. Reed bought them for me. But areyou her sister? You don't look like her. "

The woman laughed, a sharp, unmusical laugh. The dry cosmeticplastered thick upon her cheeks cracked. She was not beautiful likethe others, thought Carmen. Her cheeks were sunken, and her low-cutgown revealed great, protruding collarbones. "Come, " she saidabruptly, "get out of those rags and into something modern. " Sheopened a closet door and selected a gown from a number hanging there. It was white, and there was a gay ribbon at the waist. 

"It'll have to be pinned up, " she commented to herself, holding it outbefore her and regarding Carmen critically. 

The girl's eyes danced. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "am I to wear that? Howbeautiful! Did Mrs. Reed give it to me? And is there a party downstairs?"

The woman returned no answer, but opened a bureau drawer and took fromit several other garments, which she threw upon a chair, together withthe dress. 

"Into the whole lot of 'em, " she said sharply, indicating thegarments. "And move lively, for supper's waitin' and there'll becallers soon--gentlemen callers, " she added, smiling grimly. 

She turned and faced Carmen. Their eyes met. The woman stoppedabruptly and stood with arms akimbo, regarding the girl. Carmen gazedup at her with a smile of happy, trustful assurance. 

The woman was the first to speak. "Where did you come from?" shedemanded hoarsely. 

Carmen told her. She mentioned Simití, Padre Josè, and Rosendo. Hervoice quavered a little; but she brightened up and concluded: "And Mr. Reed's Auntie, she met us--that is, me. Oh, isn't she a beautifullady!"

The woman seemed to be fascinated by the child's gaze. Then, suddenly, as if something had given way under great strain, she cried: "ForGod's sake, don't look at me that way! Who are you?" She dropped intoa chair and continued to stare at the girl. 

"Well, I've told you, " replied Carmen. "But, " she continued, goingquickly to the woman and taking her hand, "you haven't told me yourname yet. And we are going to be such good friends, aren't we? Yes, weare. And you are going to tell me all about this beautiful house, andthat wonderful carriage I came here in. What did make it go, anyway?Do you ride often? Oh, I hope Mrs. Reed will take me out in it everyday!"

The woman's hand tightened over Carmen's. She seemed to struggle withherself. Then, in a low voice:

"Your mother--is she living?"

"Madre Maria is, " returned Carmen. "But my mother, my own real mother, she died, long, long ago, on the banks of the great river. My fatherleft her, and she was trying to follow him. Then I was born--"

"The same old story!" muttered the woman fiercely. "I've been there, girl, and know all about it. I followed the man--but it was my kidthat died! God, if I could have laid my hands on him! And now you havecome here--"

She stopped abruptly and swallowed hard. Carmen gently stole an armabout her neck. "It isn't true, " she murmured, laying her soft cheekagainst the woman's painted one. "No one can desert us or harm us, for_God is everywhere_. And no one really dies. We have got to know that. Padre Josè said I had a message for the people up here; and now youare the first one I've told it to. But that's it: God is everywhere. And if we know that, why, nothing bad can ever happen to us. But youdidn't know it when your husband left you, did you?"

"Husband!" ejaculated the woman. Then she looked up into the girl'sdeep, wondering eyes and checked herself. "Come, " she said abruptly, rising and still holding her hand. "Never mind the clothes. " A grimlook settled over her features. "We'll go down to supper now as youare. "

Carmen's companion led her down the stairs and through the hall to abrightly lighted room at the rear, where about a long table sat a halfdozen women. There were places for as many more, but they wereunoccupied. The cloth was white, the glass shone, the silversparkled. And the women, who glanced up at the girl, were clad ingowns of such gorgeous hues as to make the child gasp in amazement. Over all hung the warm, perfumed air that she had thought so deliciouswhen she had first entered the house. 

The noisy chatter at once ceased. The woman led her to a chair next tothe one she herself took. Carmen looked around for the lady who hadmet her at the boat. She was not there. The silence and the steadyscrutiny of the others began to embarrass her. "Where--where isAuntie?" she asked timidly, looking up at her faded attendant. 

A titter ran around the table. One of the women, who swayed slightlyin her chair, looked up stupidly. "Who's Auntie?" she mutteredthickly. A burst of laughter followed this remark, and Carmen sat downin confusion. 

"Where's the Madam, Jude?" asked one of the younger women of Carmen'sattendant. 

"Dining alone in her room. Headache, " was the laconic reply. 

"She landed a queen this time, didn't she?" looking admiringly atCarmen. "Gets me, how the old girl does it! What's your name, kiddo?"

"Carmen, " replied the girl timidly, looking questioningly about theroom. 

"That's a good handle. But what's the rest?" put in another. 

"Carmen Ariza, " the child amended, as her big, wondering eyes sweptthe group. 

"Wow! That's a moniker for you!" laughed one. "Where do you hail from, angel-face?"

The girl looked uncomprehendingly at her interlocutor. 

"Your home, you know. I see your finish, all right. But where'd youbegin?"

"Tell them where you lived, child, " said the woman called Jude in alow voice. 

"Simití, " replied Carmen, tears choking her words. 

"Simití!" echoed around the table. "New York? Ohio? Or Kansas?" Aburst of mirth punctuated the question. 

"Do the women vote there?"

"Long way from Paris, judging by the fashions. "

"Where is Simití, kidlet?"

Carmen answered in a scarcely audible voice, "South America. "

Low exclamations of astonishment encircled the table, while the womensat regarding the girl curiously. 

"But, " continued Carmen in a trembling voice, "where is Mrs. Reed?And isn't Mr. Harris here? Why don't they come? Don't they know I amhere?"

She looked appealingly from one to another. Her beautiful face woresuch an expression of mingled fear, uncertainty, and helplessness asto throw a hush upon the room. One of the women rose. "God!" shemuttered, "it's a shame!" She looked for a moment uncertainly into thebig, deep eyes of the girl, and then turned and hastily left theroom. 

The silence which followed was broken by a pallid, painted creature atthe end of the table. 

"What an old devil the Madam is! My God! One look into those eyeswould have been enough for me!"

"What's the idea, Jude?" asked another, nodding toward the girl. "Doesshe stay here?"

The woman addressed as Jude shook her head. "This is only a recruitingstation for the regular army. She'll go over to French Lucy's; and theMadam will get a round price for the job. "

"Old Lucy'll get rich off of her! But she needs the money. Ames ownsher house, too, doesn't he?"

"Sure thing!" replied Jude, brightening under the stimulus of herwine. "He owns every house in this block, they say. Got long leasesfor 'em all. And the rents--suffering Moses! The Madam rolls on thefloor and cusses for a week straight every time she pays hers. Butjust the same, if you've ever noticed, the houses that Ames owns arenever raided by the coppers. Ames whacks up with the mayor and thecity hall gang and the chief of police. That means protection, and wepay for it in high rents. But it's a lot better'n being swooped downon by the cops every few weeks, ain't it? We know what we're expectedto pay, that way. And we never do when we keep handin' it out to thecops. "

"That's right, " approved some one. 

"It sure is. That's what the collector says. And he's got a newcollector, fellow from the Ketchim Realty Company. They're the oldman's agents now for his dive-houses. He can't get anybody else tohandle 'em, so the collector tells me. "

"Belle Carey's place was pulled last night, I hear, " said one of thewomen, pushing back her plate and lighting a cigarette. 

"Yes, " returned Jude, "and why? Cause the house is owned byGannette--swell guy livin' up on Riverside Drive--and he don't divvywith the city hall. Belle don't pay no such rent as the Madam does--atleast so old Lucy tells me. "

The half-intoxicated woman down the table, who had stirred theirlaughter a few minutes before, now roused up heavily. "Ol' Lucy--huh!Used to work for her m'self. Caught a pippin for her once--right offthe train--jus' like this li'l hussy. Went to th' depot in a hack. Sawth' li'l kid comin' an' pretended to faint. Li'l kid run to me an'asked could she help. Got her to see me safe home--tee! hee! She'sworkin' f'r ol' Lucy yet, sound's a dollar. "

She fixed her bleared eyes upon Carmen and lapsed back into her formerstate of sodden stupidity. 

The girl rose hastily from her chair. The policeman's words at thepier were floating confusedly through her thought. The strange talk ofthese women increased the confusion. Perhaps a mistake had been made. She turned beseechingly to Jude. "Isn't this--Mr. Reed's house?" sheasked. 

Another of the women got up hurriedly and left the table. "I haven'tthe nerve for another sob-scene, " she commented as she went out. 

"Where am I? Where am I?" pleaded Carmen, turning from one toanother. 

Jude reached out and seized her hand tightly. "Pleasant job for me!"she commented ironically, looking at the others. Then, to Carmen:

"You are in a--a hotel, " she said abruptly. 

"Oh--then--then it was a mistake?" The girl turned her great, yearningeyes upon the woman. Jude shrank under them. "Sit down, and finishyour supper, " she said harshly, pulling the girl toward the chair. 

"No!" replied Carmen loudly. "You must take me to Mr. Reed!"

The maudlin woman down the table chuckled thickly. The negro waitresswent quickly out and closed the door. Jude rose, still holding thegirl's hand. "Come up stairs with me, " she said, leading her away. 

"Poor old Jude!" commented one of the women, when the two had left theroom. "She's about all in. This sort of business is getting her nerve. But she's housekeeper, and that's part of her job. And--the poorlittle kid! But ain't she a beauty!"

Jude took the girl into her own room and locked the door. Then shesank wearily into a chair. "God!" she cried, "I'm sick of this--sickof the whole thing!"

Carmen went quickly to her. "Don't!" she said. "Don't! It was all amistake, and we can go. "

"Go!" echoed the woman bitterly. "Where--and how?"

"Why, you said this was a hotel--"

"Hotel! God, it's hell! And you are in forever!"

Carmen gazed at the excited woman with a puzzled expression on herface. 

"Now listen, " said Jude, bracing herself, "I've got something to tellyou. You have been--good God! I can't--I can't! For God's sake, child, don't look at me that way! Who are you? Where do you come from?"

"I told you, " replied Carmen quietly. 

"Your face looks as if you had come down from the sky. But if you did, and if you believe in a God, you had better pray to Him now!"

"Why--I am not afraid. God is everywhere--right here. I was afraid--alittle--at first. But not now. When we stop and just know that we loveeverybody, and that everybody really loves us, why, we can't be afraidany more, can we?"

The woman looked up at the child in blank amazement. Love! Thatwarped, twisted word conveyed no meaning to her. And God--it was onlya convenient execrative. But--what was it that looked out from thatstrange girl's eyes? What was it that held her fascinated there? Whatwas emerging from those unfathomable depths, twining itself about herwithered heart and expanding her black, shrunken soul? Whence camethat beautiful, white life that she was going to blast? And could she, after all? Then what stayed her now?

"Look here, " she cried sharply, "tell me again all about yourself, andabout your friends and family down south, and what it was that theMadam said to you! And be quick!"

Carmen sat down at her feet, and taking her hand, went again over thestory. As the child talked, the woman's hard eyes widened, and now andthen a big tear rolled down the painted cheek. Her thought began tostray back, far back, along the wreck-strewn path over which sheherself had come. At last in the dim haze she saw again the little NewEngland farm, and her father, stern, but honest and respected, trudging behind the plow. In the cottage she saw her white-hairedmother, every lineament bespeaking her Puritan origin, hovering overher little household like a benediction. Then night fell, swiftly asthe eagle swoops down upon its prey, and she awoke from a terribledream, stained, abandoned, lost--and seared with a foul oath to dragdown to her own level every innocent girl upon whom her hands mightthereafter fall!

"And I have just had to know, " Carmen concluded, "every minute since Ileft Simití, that God was everywhere, and that He would not let anyharm come to me. But when we really know that, why, the way _always_opens. For that's prayer, right prayer; the kind that Jesus taught. "

The woman sat staring at the girl, an expression of utter blanknessupon her pallid face. Prayer! Oh, yes, she had been taught to pray. Well she remembered, though the memory now cut like a knife, how sheknelt at her beautiful mother's knee and asked the good Father tobless and protect them all, even to the beloved doll that she huggedto her little bosom. But God had never heard her petitions, innocentthough she was. And He had let her fall, even with a prayer on herlips, into the black pit!

A loud sound of male voices and a stamping of feet rose from below. The woman sprang to the door and stood listening. "It's the boys fromthe college!" she cried in a hoarse whisper. 

She turned and stood hesitant for a moment, as if striving toformulate a plan. A look of fierce determination came into her face. She went to the bureau and took from the drawers several articles, which she hastily thrust into the pocket of her dress. 

"Now, " she said, turning to Carmen and speaking in a low, strainedvoice, "you do just as I say. Bring your bundle. And for God's sakedon't speak!"

Leaving the light burning, she stepped quickly out with Carmen andlocked the door after her. Then, bidding the girl wait, she slippedsoftly down the hall and locked the door of the room to which the girlhad first been taken. Both keys she dropped into her pocket. "Nowfollow me, " she said. 

Laughter and music floated up from below, mingled with the clink ofglasses. The air was heavy with perfume and tobacco smoke. A door nearthem opened, and a sound of voices issued. The woman pulled Carmeninto a closet until the hall was again quiet. Then she hurried on toanother door which she entered, dragging the girl with her. Again shelocked the door after her. Groping through the darkness, she reached awindow, across which stood a hinged iron grating, secured with apadlock. The woman fumbled among her keys and unfastened this. Swinging it wide, and opening the window beyond, she bade the girlprecede her cautiously. 

"It's a fire-escape, " she explained briefly. She reached through thewindow grating and fastened the padlock; then closed the window; andquickly descended with the girl to the ground below. 

Pausing a moment to get her breath, she seized Carmen's hand and creptswiftly around the big house and into a dark alley. There she stoppedto throw over her shoulders a light shawl which she had taken from thebureau. Then she hurried on. 

Their course lay through the muddy alley for several blocks. When theyemerged they were in a dimly lighted cross street. The air was chill, and the thinly clad woman shivered. Carmen, fresh from the tropics, felt the contrast keenly. A few moments' rapid walking down the streetbrought them to a large building of yellow brick, surrounded by a highboard fence. The woman unfastened the gate and hurried up to the door, over which, by the feeble light of the street lamp, Carmen read, "TheLittle Sisters of the Poor. "

A black-robed woman admitted them and went to summon the SisterSuperior. Carmen marveled at her strange attire. A moment later theywere silently ushered into an adjoining room, where a tall woman, similarly dressed, awaited them. 

"Sister, " said Jude excitedly, "here's a little kid--you got to carefor her until she finds her friends!"

The Sister Superior instantly divined the status of the woman. "Letthe child wait here a moment, " she said, "and you come with me andtell your story. It would be better that she should not hear. "

In a little while they appeared again. Carmen was drowsing in herchair. 

"She's chock full of religion, " the woman was saying. 

"But you, " the Sister replied, "what will you do? Go back?"

"God, no!" cried the woman. "They would murder me!"

"Then you will stay here until--"

"No, no! I have friends--others like myself--I will go to them. I--Icouldn't stay here--with her, " nodding toward the girl. "But--you willtake care of her?"

"Surely, " returned the Sister in a calm voice. 

Jude looked at Carmen for a moment. She made as if she would speak. Then she turned abruptly and went swiftly out into the chill night. 

"Come, " said the Sister to Carmen, extending a hand. "Poor littlething!" she murmured as they mounted the stairs. "Poor little thing!"

CHAPTER 2

Carmen was astir next morning long before the rising-bell sounded itsshrill summons through the long corridors. When she opened her eyesshe gazed at the ceiling above in perplexity. She still seemed to feelthe tossing motion of the boat, and half believed the bell to be thecall to the table, where she should again hear the cheery voice ofHarris and meet the tolerant smile of Mrs. Reed. Then a rush ofmemories swept her, and her heart went down in the flood. She wasalone in a great foreign city! She turned her face to the pillow, andfor a moment a sob shook her. Then she reached under the pillow anddrew out the little Bible, which she had taken from her bundle andplaced there when the Sister left her the night before. The book fellopen to Isaiah, and she read aloud:

 "I the Lord have called thee in righteousness, and will hold thine hand, and will keep thee, and give thee for a covenant of the people, for a light of the Gentiles. "

She snapped the book shut and quickly rose. "That means me, " she saidfirmly. "Padre Josè said I had a message for the world; and now Iam to tell it to these people up here. God has called me inrighteousness. That means, He has called me to do _right thinking_. And I am to tell these people how to think right. They don't knowas yet. "

Suddenly her thought reverted to Cartagena, and to the sturdy littlelad who had so proudly claimed the name of Rincón. For a moment shestood still. Then she burst into tears and threw herself back upon thebed. 

But she did not lie there long. "I must think only God's thoughts, "she said, struggling to her feet and checking her grief. "If it isright for the little boy to be his son, then I must want it to be so. I _must_ want only the right--I have _got_ to want it! And if it isnot right now, then God will make it so. It is all in His hands, and Imust not think of it any more, unless I think right thoughts. "

She dressed herself quickly, but did not put on the shoes. "I simplycan not wear these things, " she mourned, looking at them dubiously;"and I do not believe the woman will make me. I wonder why the otherwoman called her Sister. Why did she wear that ugly black bonnet? Andwhy was I hurried away from that hotel? It was so much pleasanterthere, so bright and warm; and here it is so cold. " She shivered asshe buttoned her thin dress. "But, " she continued, "I have got to goout now and find Mr. Reed and Mr. Harris--I have just _got_ to findthem--and to-day! But, oh, this city is so much larger than Simití!"

She shook her head in perplexity as she put the Bible back again inthe bundle, where lay the title papers to La Libertad and her mother'slittle locket, which Rosendo had given her that last morning inSimití. The latter she drew out and regarded wistfully for somemoments. "I haven't any father or mother but God, " she murmured. "ButHe is both father and mother to me now. " With a little sigh she tiedup the bundle again. Holding it in one hand and carrying the muchdespised shoes in the other, she left the cheerless room and starteddown the long, cold hall. 

When she reached the stairway leading to the floor below she stoppedabruptly. "Anita's babe!" she exclaimed half-aloud. "I have beenthinking only of myself. It is _not_ blind! It sees! It sees as Godsees! What is it that the Bible says?--'And I will bring them by a waythat they knew not; I will lead them in paths that they have notknown: I will make darkness light before them, and crooked thingsstraight. ' I must know that--always! And Padre Josè said he wouldremember it, too. "

Again she choked back the tears which surged up at the remembrance ofthe priest, and, bracing herself, hastily descended the stairs, murmuring at every step, "God is everywhere--right here!"

At the far end of the lower hall she saw, through an open door, anumber of elderly people sitting at long tables. Toward them shemade her way. When she reached the door, she stopped and peeredcuriously within. A murmur of astonishment rose from the inmateswhen they caught sight of the quaint object in the doorway, standinguncertainly, with her shoes in one hand, the awkwardly tied bundle inthe other, and garbed in the chaotic attire so hastily procured forher in Cartagena. 

A Sister came quickly forward and, taking the girl's hand, led herinto a smaller adjoining room, where sat the Sister Superior atbreakfast. The latter greeted the child gently and bade her be seatedat the table. Carmen dropped into a chair and sat staring in naïvewonder. 

"Well, " began the Sister at length, "eat your breakfast quickly. Thisis Sunday, you know, and Mass will be said in the chapel in half anhour. You look frightened. I don't wonder. But you are with friendshere, little girl. What is your name?"

Carmen quickly recovered her spirits, and her nimble tongue its wontedflexibility. Without further invitation or preface she entered at onceupon a lively description of her wonderful journey through the jungle, the subsequent ocean voyage, and the mishap at the pier, and concludedwith the cryptical remark: "And, you know, Señora, it is all just asPadre Josè said, only a series of states of consciousness, afterall!"

The Sister stared blankly at the beaming child. What manner of beingwas this that had been so strangely wafted into these sacred precinctson the night breeze! The abandoned woman who had brought her there, the Sister remembered, had dropped an equally cryptical remark--"She'schock full of religion. "

But gratitude quickly mastered her wonder, and the woman, ponderingthe child's dramatic recital, murmured a sincere, "The Virgin bepraised!"

"Oh, " said Carmen, looking up quickly as she caught the words, "youpeople up here talk just like those in Simití. But Padre Josè said youdidn't know, either. You ought to, though, for you have had so manymore ad--advantages than we have. Señora, there are many big, clumsywords in the English language, aren't there? But I love it just thesame. So did Padre Josè. We used to speak it all the time during thelast years we were together. He said it seemed easier to talk aboutGod in that language than in any other. Do you find it so, Señora?"

"What do you mean, child?" asked the puzzled Sister. "And who is thisJosè that you talk so much about?"

"He--taught me--in Simití. He is the priest there. "

"Well, " replied the Sister warmly, "he seems to have taught you queerthings!"

"Oh, no!" returned Carmen quickly, "he just taught me the truth. Hedidn't tell me about the queer things in the world, for he said theywere not real. "

Again the Sister stared at the girl in dumb amazement. But the child'sthought had strayed to other topics. "Isn't it cold up here!" sheexclaimed, shivering and drawing her dress about her. "I guess I'llhave to put on these shoes to keep my feet warm. "

"Certainly, child, put them on!" exclaimed the Sister. "Didn't youwear shoes in your country?"

"No, " replied Carmen, tugging and straining at the shoes; "I didn'twear much of anything, it was so warm. Oh, it is beautiful down there, Señora, so beautiful and warm in Simití!" She sighed, and her eyesfilled with tears. But she brushed them away and smiled bravely up atthe Sister. "I've come here because it is right, " she said with a firmnod of her head. "Padre Josè said I had a message for you. He said youdidn't know much about God up here. Why, I don't know much of anythingelse!" She laughed a happy little laugh as she said this. Then shewent on briskly:

"You know, Señora, Padre Josè isn't really a priest. But he said hehad to stay in the Church in order to teach me. I never couldunderstand why. I am sure he just thought wrong about it. But, anyway, he will not have to be a priest any more, now that I have gone, willhe? You know, Don Jorge said priests were a bad lot; but that isn'tso, for there are many good priests, aren't there? Yes, there are. Only, they don't understand, either. Why, Señora, " she exclaimed, suddenly remembering the Sister's previous injunction, "is this achurch? You said there would be Mass in the chapel--"

"No, " replied the Sister, still studying the girl attentively, whileher manner became more severe; "this is a home for old people, acharitable institution. "

"Oh, " replied Carmen, with a very vague idea of what that meant. "Well, " her face alight and her eyes dancing, "I don't belong herethen, do I? I am never going to be old, " she meditated. "Why, Godnever grows old! And we are His children, you know. The Bible says weare made in His image and likeness. Well, if that is so, how can weever grow old? Just think of God hobbling around in heaven with a caneand saying: 'Well, I'm getting old now! I'll soon be dying!' Isn'tthat awful! We wouldn't grow old and die if it wasn't for our wrongway of thinking, would we? When we think His thoughts, why, we will belike Him. But not until then. Padre Josè says this, and he knows it istrue--only, he seems to have a hard time proving it. But, Señora, wehave all got to prove it, some time, every one of us. And then therewill not be any places like this for old people--people who stillbelieve that two and two are seven, you know. And that's my message. "

The woman looked at her blankly; but the girl rambled on. "Padre Josèsometimes talked of the charitable institutions out in the world, andhe always said that charity was a crime against the people. And he wasright, for that is just the way Jesus looked at it, isn't it? Jesusdid not give money to beggars, but he did better, he healed them ofthe bad state of mind that was making them poor and sick. Why don'tthe priests do that? Can you heal the sick? Jesus, when he taught, first said a thing, and then he turned right around and proved it. Nowdo you do that? I try to. I've tried it all my life. And, why, Señora, I've had thousands of proofs!"

The Sister did not reply; and Carmen, stealing a covert glance at her, continued:

"You know, Señora, it is just as wicked to be sick and poor as it isto tell a lie, because being sick and poor is just the ex--theex-ter-nal-i-zation of our thought; and such thought is not from God;and so to hold such thoughts and to believe them real is to believe inpower apart from God. It is having other gods than the one God; andthat is breaking the very first Commandment, isn't it? Yes, it is; andyou can prove it, just as you can prove the principles in mathematics. Señora, do you know anything about mathematics?"

The astonished woman made an involuntary sign of negation. 

"Oh, Señora, " cried the enthusiastic girl, "the things that Jesustaught can be proved just as easily as we prove the rules inmathematics! Why not? for they are truth, and all truth can bedemonstrated, you know. You know, Señora, God is everywhere--not onlyin heaven, but right here where we are. Heaven, Padre Josè used to sayso often, is only a perfect state of mind; and so it is, isn't it?God, you know, is mind. And when we reflect Him perfectly, why, wewill be in heaven. Isn't it simple? But, " she went on after catchingher breath, "we can't reflect Him as long as we believe evil to bereal and powerful. Evil isn't anything. It is just zero, nothing--"

"I've heard that before, " interrupted the woman, recovering somewhatfrom her surprise. "But I think that before you get out of New Yorkyou will reverse that idea. There's a pretty fair amount of evil here, and it is quite real, we find. "

"But it isn't!" cried Carmen. "If it is real, then God made it. Itseems real to you--but that is only because you give it reality inyour consciousness. You believe it real, and so it becomes to you. "

"Well, " said the woman dryly, "on that basis I think the same may besaid of good, too. "

"No, " answered Carmen eagerly, "good is--"

"There, " interrupted the Sister coldly, holding up an admonitory hand, "we are not going to discuss the foolish theological notions whichthat fallen priest put into your poor little head. Finish yourbreakfast. "

The child looked at the woman in mute protest. Josè a fallen priest!Would these people up here so regard him? It was a new thought, andone that she would not accept. 

"Señora, " she began again, after a brief interval, "Padre Josè is agood man, even the human Padre Josè. And he is trying to solve hisproblem and know God. And he is trying to know himself, not as otherpeople think they know him, but as God knows him, and as I have alwaystried to know him. You have no right to judge him--and, anyway, youare not judging him, but only your wrong idea of him. And that, " shesaid softly, "is nothing. "

The Sister did not answer. She was beginning to feel the spell ofthose great brown eyes, that soft, rich voice, and the sparklingexpression of innocence, purity, and calm assurance that bubbled fromthose red lips. And she was losing herself in contemplation of thegirl's luxuriant beauty, whose rich profusion her strange, foreignattire could not disguise. 

"Señora, " said Carmen suddenly, "the people on the boat laughed at myclothes. But I don't think them half as funny as that great blackbonnet you are wearing. Why do you wear it? I never saw one until Iwas brought here. "

It was said innocently, and with no thought of offense. But the womaninstantly roused from her meditation and assumed an attitude ofsevere dignity. "Finish your breakfast, " she commanded sharply. "Andremember after this that children's manners here are not those of yourcountry. "

The girl fell quiet under the rebuke, and the meal ended in silence. As they were rising from the table a cheery voice came from the outerroom, and presently a priest looked in. 

"Good morning, Sister, " he cried heartily. "Well, who's this?" as hiseyes fell upon Carmen. He was a young man, apparently still in thetwenties, of athletic build, inclined rather to stoutness, and with around, shining face that radiated health and good nature. 

The Sister quietly returned his cordial greeting. "It is a littlewaif, " she said in answer to his query, "who strayed in here lastnight. "

"Aha, " said the priest, "another derelict! And will you send her tothe orphanage?"

"I'm afraid if I do the little heretic will corrupt all the otherchildren, " replied the Sister. "Father, " she continued seriously, "Iwant you to examine this child, and then tell me what you think shouldbe done with her. "

"What is it--health?" asked the priest, studying the girl. 

"No, " replied the Sister; "but another priest has gone wrong, andthis, " pointing to Carmen, "is the result of his perniciousteachings. "

The priest did not reply for some moments. Then he sighed wearily. "Very well, Sister, " he said in a low voice. "I will talk with herafter the service. " He seemed suddenly to have lost his cheerfulness, as he continued to converse with the woman on matters pertaining tothe institution. 

Carmen, wondering and receptive, took the place assigned to her in thechapel and sat quietly through the service. She had often seen Josècelebrate Mass in the rude little church in Simití, but with no suchelaboration as she witnessed here. Once or twice she joined in theresponses, not with any thought of worship, but rather to give vent, even if slight, to the impelling desire to hear her own musical voice. She thought as she did so that the priest looked in her direction. Shethought others looked at her attentively at the same time. But theyhad all stared at her, for that matter, and she had felt confused andembarrassed under their searching scrutiny. Yet the old peopleattracted her peculiarly. Never had she seen so many at one time. Andnever, she thought, had she seen such physical decrepitude andhelplessness. And then she fell to wondering what they were all therefor, and what they got out of the service. Did the Mass mean anythingto them? Did they believe that thereby their sins were atoned? Didthey believe that that priest was really changing the wafer and wineinto flesh and blood? She recalled much that Josè had told her aboutthe people up in the States. They were not so different, mentally, from her own, after all. 

The Host had been elevated. The people, still gossiping cheerfully, had prostrated themselves before it. The sermon had been short, forthe old people waxed impatient at long discourses. Then the priestdescended from the pulpit and came to Carmen. "Now, little girl, " hesaid, seating himself beside her, "tell me all about yourself, who youare, where you come from, and what you have been taught. And do not beafraid. I am your friend. " Carmen smiled up at him; then plunged intoher narrative. 

It was two hours later when the Sister Superior looked in and saw thepriest and girl still sitting in earnest conversation. She stoodlistening. "But, " she heard the priest say, "you tell me that thisFather Josè taught you these things?"

"He taught me English, and French, and German. He taught memathematics. And he taught me all I know of history, and of theworld, " the girl replied. 

"Yes, yes, " the priest went on hurriedly; "but these other things, these religious and philosophical notions, who taught you these?"

The Sister drew closer and strained her ears to hear. 

The girl looked down as she answered softly, "God. "

The priest's head sank upon his breast. He reached out and laid a handon hers. "I believe you, " he said, in a voice scarcely audible. "Ibelieve you--for we do not teach such things. "

The girl looked up with luminous eyes. "Then, " she said quizzically, "you are not really a priest. "

"Father Waite!" The Sister's voice rang sternly through the quietchapel. The priest started to his feet in confusion. "The dinner-bellwill ring in a few minutes, " continued the Sister, regarding the manseverely. 

"Ah, true, " he murmured, hastily glancing at the clock. "The timepassed so rapidly--a--a--this girl--"

"Leave the girl to me, " replied the Sister coldly. "Unless, " sheadded, "you consider her deranged. Coming from that hot countrysuddenly into this cold climate might--"

"No, no, " interrupted the priest hastily; "she seems uncommonly strongmentally. She has some notions that are a--somewhat different fromours--that is--but I will come and have a further talk with her. "

He raised his hand in silent benediction, while the Sister bowed herhead stiffly. Then, as if loath to take his eyes from the girl, heturned and went slowly out. 

"Come, " said the woman sharply. Carmen followed her out into the halland down a flight of steps to the kitchen below. 

"Katherine, " said the Sister Superior, addressing an elderly, white-haired Sister who seemed to be in charge of the culinarydepartment, "put this girl to work. Let her eat with you and sleep inyour room. And see if you can't work some of the foolish notions outof her head. "

CHAPTER 3

"Get some o' th' foolish notions out of your head, is it? Och, puirbairn, wid yer swate face an' that hivenly hair, it's welcome ye airto yer notions! But, hist! Ye have talked too brash to the SisterSuperior. Ye air that innocent, puir thing! But, mind your tongue, honey. Tell your funny notions to old Katie, an' they'll be safe asthe soul of Saint Patrick; but keep mum before the others, honey. "

"But, Señora, don't they want to know the truth up here?" There was anote of appeal in the quavering voice. 

"Now listen, honey; don't call me sich heathen names. Call me Sister. I'm no Señora, whativer that may be. And as for wantin' to know thetruth, God bless ye, honey! th' good Fathers know it all now. "

"They don't, Señ--Sister!"

"Well, thin, they don't--an' mebby I'm not so far from agreein' widye. But, och, it's dead beat I am, after the Sunday's work! But ye aira right smart little helper, honey--only, ye don't belong in th'kitchen. "

"Señ--I mean, Sister--"

"That's better, honey; ye'll get it in time. "

"Sister, I've just _got_ to find Mr. Reed! Do you know him?"

"No, honey, it's few I know outside these walls. But ye can put up abit of a prayer when ye turn in to-night. An' we'd best be makin' forth' bed, too, darlin', for we've a hard day's work to-morrow. "

It was Carmen's second night in New York, and as the girl silentlyfollowed the puffing old woman up the several long, dark flights ofstairs to the little, cheerless room under the eaves, it seemed to herthat her brain must fly apart with the pressure of its mentalaccumulation. The great building in which she was now sheltered, thekitchen, with its marvels of equipment, gas stoves, electric lights, annunciators, and a thousand other equally wonderful appliances whichthe human mind has developed for its service and comfort, held herfascinated, despite her situation, while she swelled with questionsshe dared not ask. Notwithstanding the anxiety which she had notwholly suppressed, her curiosity, naïve, eager, and insatiable, rosemountain high. Sister Katherine had been kind to her, had received herwith open arms, and given her light tasks to perform. And many timesduring the long afternoon the old woman had relaxed entirely from herassumed brusqueness and stooped to lay a large, red hand gently uponthe brown curls, or to imprint a resounding kiss upon the flushedcheek. Now, as night was settling down over the great, roaring city, the woman took the homeless waif into her big heart and wrapped her ina love that, roughly expressed, was yet none the less tender andsincere. 

"Ye can ask the Virgin, honey, to send ye to yer frinds, " said thewoman, as they sat in the gloaming before the window and looked outover the kindling lights of the city. 

"What good would that do, Sister?"

"Not much, I guess, honey, " answered the woman frankly. "Troth, an'I've asked her fer iverything in my time, from diamonds to a husband, an' she landed me in a convint! But I ain't complainin'. "

"You didn't ask in the right way, Sister--"

"Faith, I asked in ivery way I knew how! An' whin I had th' carbuncleon me neck I yelled at her! Sure she may have answered me prayer, ferth' whoop I gave busted the carbuncle, an' I got well. Ye nivir kintell, honey. An' so I ain't complainin'. "

"But, Sis--I can't call you Sister!" pleaded the girl, going to thewoman and twining her arms about her neck. 

"Och, honey darlin'"--tears started from the old woman's eyes androlled down her wrinkled cheeks--"honey darlin', call me Katie, justold Katie. Och, Holy Virgin, if I could have had a home, an' abeautiful daughter like you--!" She clasped the girl in her great armsand held her tightly. 

"Katie, when you pray you must pray knowing that God has already givenyou what you need, and that there is nothing that can keep you fromseeing it. "

The woman wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "An' so, darlin', if I wantdiamonds I must know that I have 'em, is it that, honey?"

"You dear thing!" murmured Carmen, drawing closer, and laying her softcheek against the leathery visage of the old woman. 

"Say that again, honey--och, say it again! It's words, darlin', that'snivir been said to old Katie!"

"Why, hasn't any one ever been kind to you?"

"Kind! Och, ivirybody's kind to me, honey! But nobody has ivir lovedme--that way. The good Lord made me a fright, honey--ain't ye noticed?I've a face like an owl. An' they told me from th' cradle up I'd nivirland a man. An' I didn't, honey; they all ran from me--an' so I becomea bride o' th' Church. But I ain't complainin'. "

"But, Katie, the face is nothing. Why, your heart is as big--as big asthe whole world! I hadn't been with you an hour before I knew that. And, Katie dear, I love you. "

"Och, darlin', " murmured the woman, "sure th' Virgin be praised fersendin' ye to me, a lonely old woman!"

"It was not the Virgin, Katie, but God who brought me here, " said thegirl gently, as she caressed the old Sister's cheek. 

"It's all one, honey; the Virgin's th' Mother o' God. "

"Why, Katie! You don't know what you are saying!"

"Troth, child, she has th' same power as God! Don't we pray to her, an' she prays to th' good God to save us? Don't she have influencewith Him?"

"No, Katie, no. There is no person or thing that persuades God to begood to His children. There is nothing that influences Him. He isinfinite--infinite mind, Katie, and infinite good. Oh, Katie, whatawful things are taught in this world as truth! How little we know ofthe great God! And yet how much people pretend they know about Him!But if they only knew--really _knew_, as Jesus did--why, Katie, therewouldn't be an old person, or a sick or unhappy one in the wholeworld! Katie, " after a little pause, "I know. And I'm going to tellthem. "

The old Sister drew the child closer. "Air these more o' yer funnynotions, darlin'?"

"I suppose they are what the world thinks funny, Katie, " answered thegirl. 

"An' I don't wonder! We are not taught such things, honey. But then, th' world moves, girlie--even old Katie sees that. Only, the Churchdon't move with it. An' old Katie can see that, too. An' so, I'mthinkin', does Father Waite. "

"I know he does, Katie. "

"Faith, an' how do ye know it, child?"

"He talked with me--a long time, this morning. He said God had taughtme what I know. "

"Aye, is it so? Thin me own suspicions air right; he's out o' tune!Did ye say, girlie dear, that he didn't scold ye fer yer funnynotions?"

"No, Katie, he said they were right. "

"Did he so! Thin, lassie dear, things is goin' to happen. An' he's agood man--troth, they make no better in this world!"

The old Sister lapsed into thought. Carmen looked out wonderingly overthe city. She yearned to know what it held for her. 

"Katie, " she said at length, bending again over the woman, "will youhelp me find Mr. Reed?"

"Och, lassie--what's your name again?"

"Carmen, " replied the girl, "Carmen Ariza. "

"Cair-men Aree--now ain't that a name fer ye! An' yer nationality, girl?"

"I'm a Colombian, Katie. "

"Whist! Where is it? In Afrikay?"

"South America, " with a little sigh. 

"Now think o' that! An' I'm Scotch-Irish, honey; an' we're both a longway from th' ol' sod! Lassie dear, tell me about last night. But, no;begin 'way back. Give us th' whole tale. Old Katie's weak in th' head, girlie, but she may see a way out fer ye. Th' Virgin help ye, puirbairn!"

Midnight boomed from the bell in a neighboring tower when Carmenfinished her story. 

"Be the Saints above!" exclaimed the old Sister, staring at the girlin amazement. "Now do ye let me feel of ye to see that ye air human;fer only a Saint could go through all that an' live to tell it! An'the place ye were in last night! Now be Saint Patrick, if I was richI'd have Masses said every day fer that Jude who brung ye here! Don'ttell me th' good Lord won't forgive her! Och, God! she's a Saintalready. "

"She's a good woman, Katie; and, somehow, I felt sorry for her, but Idon't know why. She has a beautiful home in that hotel--"

"Hotel, is it! Hivins above! But--och, sure, it was a hotel, honey. Only, ye air better off here wi' old Katie. "

"And now you will help me?"

"Help you, lassie! God bless ye, yes! But--unless it's wi' FatherWaite, I don't know what I can do. Ye air in bad with th' SisterSuperior fer yer talk at th' breakfast table. Ye're a fresh littleheathen, honey. An' she's suspicious of Father Waite, too. We all air. An' he th' best man on airth! But his doctrine ain't just sound, sweatheart. Hivins, doctrine! It means more'n a good heart! There, honey, lave it to me. But it's got to be done quick, or th' SisterSuperior'll have ye in an orphan asylum, where ye'll stay till ye airsoused in th' doctrine! I can manage to get word to Father Waiteto-morrow, airly. Jinny will run over fer me. A bit of a word wi'him'll fix it, lassie dear. An' now, honey swate, off with them funnyclothes and plump into bed. Saints above! it's all but marnin' now!"

A few minutes later the woman turned to the girl who lay so quiet ather side. 

"Honey, " she whispered, "was ye tellin' me awhile back that ye knewthe right way to pray?"

"Yes, Katie dear, " the child murmured. 

"Thin do you pray, lass, an' I'll not trouble the Virgin this night. "

 * * * * *

"Well, Father, what do you think now?" The Sister Superior looked upaggressively, as Father Waite slowly entered the room. His head wasbowed, and there was a look of deep earnestness upon his face. 

"I have talked with her again--an hour, or more, " he said reflectively. "She is a--a remarkable girl, in many ways. " He stopped, uncertainhow to proceed. 

The Sister eyed him keenly. "She attracts and repels me, both, " shesaid. "At times she seems positively uncanny. And she appears to besuffering from religious dementia. Do you not think so?"

It was a compromising question, and the priest weighed his wordscarefully before replying. "She does--seem to--to have rather--a--ratherunusual--religious views, " said he slowly. 

"Would it not be well to have Dr. Sullivan examine her?"

"To what end?"

"That we may know what to do with her. If she is mentally unsound shemust not be sent to the orphanage. "

"She should be taken--a--I mean, we should try to locate her friends. I have already searched the city directory; but, though there are manyReeds, there are none listed with the initials she gave me as his. Ihad thought, " he continued hesitatingly, "I had thought of putting herin charge of the Young Women's Christian Association--"

"Father Waite!" The Sister Superior rose and drew herself up to herfull height. "Do you mean to say that you have contemplated deliveringher into the hands of heretics?" she demanded coldly, her tall figureinstinct with the mortal pride of religious superiority. 

"Why, Sister, " returned the priest with embarrassment, "would it notbe wise to place her among those whose views harmonize more closelywith hers than ours do?"

"Father! I am surprised--!"

"But--she is not a Catholic!" urged the man, with a gesture ofimpatience. "And she will never be one. The combined weight of all thecenturies of church authority could not make her one--never! I musttake her to those with whom she rightfully belongs. "

The Sister Superior's eyes narrowed and glittered, and her face grewdark. "Never!" she said in a low tone. "I would rather see her dead!Father Waite, you exceed your authority! I am in charge here, and Ishall report this case to the Bishop!"

The priest stood hesitant for a moment. The futility of his caseseemed to impress him. Taking up his hat, he bowed without speakingand went out. The Sister Superior stepped to the telephone. Outsidethe door the man listened until he caught the number she called. Hisface grew dark and angry, and his hands clenched a she strode down thehall. 

On the stairs that led up from the kitchen stood Sister Katherine. 

"Hist! Father!"

He stopped and turned to the woman. Her finger went up to her lips. 

"Wait on th' corner--behind the church! The lassie will meet youthere!"

Before he could reply the woman had plunged again into the darkstairway. Stopping at a small closet below, she took out a bundle. Then she hurried to the kitchen and summoned Carmen, who was sittingat a table peeling potatoes. 

"Troth, lazy lass, " she commanded sharply, "do you take the bucket andmop and begin on the front steps. And mind that ye don't bring meheavy hand down on ye! Och, lassie darlin', " she added, when she haddrawn the startled girl out of hearing of the others, "give yer oldKatie a kiss, and then be off! Troth, it breaks me heart to see yego--but 'twould break yours to stay! Go, lassie darlin', an' don'tfergit old Katie! Here, " thrusting the girl's bundle and a dollar billinto her hands, "an' God bless ye, lass! Ye've won me, heart an' soul!Ye'll find a frind at th' nixt corner!" pointing up the street. Shestrained the girl again to her breast, then opened the door andhastily thrust her out into the street. 

For a moment Carmen stood dazed by the suddenness of it all. Shelooked up confusedly at the great, yellow building from which she hadbeen ejected. There was no visible sign of life. Then, grasping herbundle and the dollar bill, she hurried out through the gate andstarted up the street. 

Around the corner stood Father Waite. The man's face was furrowed, andhis body trembled. The girl went up to him with a glad smile. Thepriest looked up, and muttered something incoherent under his breath ashe took her hand. 

"Where are we going, Padre?" she asked. 

He drew some loose change from his pocket, and hailed an approachingstreet car. 

"To police headquarters, " he replied, "to ask them to help us findyour friends. "

CHAPTER 4

From the mysterious wastes which lie far out on the ocean, the fog wasagain creeping stealthily across the bay and into the throbbingarteries of the great city. Through half-opened doors and windows itrolled like smoke, and piled like drifted snow against the mountainsof brick and stone. Caught for a moment on a transient breeze, itswirled around a towering pile on lower Broadway, and eddied up to thewindows of the Ketchim Realty Company, where it sifted through thechinks in the loose frames and settled like a pall over the dingyrooms within. 

To Philip O. Ketchim, junior member of the firm, it seemed a fittingexternal expression of the heavy gloom within his soul. Crumpled intothe chair at the broad table in his private office, with his long, thin legs stretched out before him, his hands crammed into the pocketsof his trousers, and his bullet-shaped head sunk on his flat chest, until it seemed as if the hooked nose which graced his hawk-likevisage must be penetrating his breast-bone, the man was the embodimentof utter dejection. On the littered table, where he had just tossedit, lay the report of Reed and Harris on the pseudo-mineral propertiesof the Molino Company--the "near-mines" in the rocky cañon of thefar-off Boque. Near it lay the current number of a Presbyterianreview, wherein the merits of this now moribund project wereadvertised in terms whose glitter had attracted swarms of eager, trusting investors. 

The firm name of Ketchim Realty Company was something of a misnomer. The company itself was an experiment, whose end had not justified itsinception. It had been launched a few years previously by DouglassKetchim to provide business careers for his two sons, James andPhilip. The old gentleman, still hale and vigorous, was one of thosesturdy Englishmen who had caught the infection of '49 and abruptlysevered the ties which bound them to their Kentish homes for theallurements of the newly discovered El Dorado of western America. Across the death-haunted Isthmus of Panamá and up the inhospitablePacific coast the indomitable spirit of the young adventurer drovehim, until he reached the golden sands of California. There he toiledfor many years, until Fortune at length smiled upon his quenchlessefforts. Then he tossed aside his rough tools and set out for the lessconstricted fields of the East. 

He invested his money wisely, and in the course of years turned itseveral times. He became a banker. He aspired to the hand of asister of a railway president, and won it. He educated his sons in thebest colleges of the East, and then sent them to Europe on theirhoneymoons. And finally, when the burden of years began to pressnoticeably, and the game became less attractive, he retired fromthe field of business, cleared off his indebtedness, organized theKetchim Realty Company, put its affairs on the best possible basis, and then committed the unpardonable folly of turning it over to theunrestricted management of his two sons. 

The result was chaos. At the expiration of a year the old gentlemanhurried back into the harness to save the remnant of his fortune, onlyto find it inextricably tied up in lands of dubious value andquestionable promotional schemes. The untangling of the real estate heimmediately took into his own hands. The schemes he left to his sons. 

A word in passing regarding these sons, for they typify a form ofparasitical growth, of the fungus variety, which in these days hasbattened and waxed noxious on the great stalk of legitimate commercialenterprise. They were as dissimilar, and each as unlike his father, asis possible among members of the same family. Both sought, withdiligent consecration, the same goal, money; but employed whollydifferent means to gain that end. James, the elder, was a man of readywit, a nimble tongue, and a manner which, on occasions when he couldthink of any one but himself, was affable and gracious. He was ascoffer of religion, an open foe of business scruple, and the avowedchampion of every sort of artifice and device employed in ancient, mediaeval, or modern finance to further his own selfish desires, inthe minimum of time, and at whatever cost to his fellow-man. In hiscups he was a witty, though arrogant, braggart. In his home he waspetulant and childish. Of real business acumen and constructivewisdom, he had none. He would hew his way to wealth, if need be, openly defiant of God, man, or the devil. Or he would work in subtlerways, through deceit, jugglery, or veiled bribe. But he generally worehis heart on his sleeve; and those who perforce had business relationswith him soon discovered that, though utterly unscrupulous, hischaracter was continuously revealed through his small conceit, whichcaused him so to work as to be seen of men and gain their cheapplaudits for his sharp, mendacious practices. 

Philip retained a degree of his father's confidence--which Jameswholly lacked--and he spared himself no pains to cultivate it. Thoughfar less ready of wit than his stubby, bombastic brother, he was atenacious plodder, and was for this reason much more likely ultimatelyto achieve his sordid purposes. His energy was tireless, and he neveradmitted defeat. He never worked openly; he never appeared to have adecided line of conduct; and no one could ever say what particularcourse he intended to pursue. Apparently, he was a man of exemplaryhabits; and his mild boast that he knew not the taste of tobacco orliquor could not be refuted. He was an elder in the Presbyterianchurch in the little suburb where he lived, and superintendent of itsSunday school. His prayers were beautiful expressions of reverentpiety; and his conversation, at all times chaste and modest, announcedhim a man of more than ordinary purity of thought and motive. While itis true that no one could recall any pious deed, any charitable act, or any conduct based on motives of self-abnegation and brotherly loveperformed by him, yet no one could ever point to a single coarse ormean action emanating from the man. If there was discord in companyaffairs, the wanton James always bore the onus. And because of this, relations between the brothers gradually assumed a condition ofstrain, until at length James openly and angrily denounced Philip as ahypocrite, and refused longer to work with him. Thereupon the milderPhilip offered the other cheek and installed a mediator, in the personof one Rawlins, a sickly, emaciated, bearded, but loyal Hermes, whothenceforth performed the multifold functions of pacificator, go-between, human telephone, and bearer of messages, documents, andwhat-not from one to the other for a nominal wage and the crumbs thatdropped from the promoter's table. 

The fog and the gloom thickened, and Ketchim sat deeply immersed inboth. He was still shaking from the fright which he had received thatmorning. On opening the door as he was about to leave his house totake the train to the city, he had confronted two bulky policemen. With a muffled shriek he had slammed the door in their astonishedfaces and darted back into the house, his heart in his throat andhammering madly. How could he know that they were only selling ticketsto a Policemen's Ball? Then he had crept to the window and, concealedin the folds of the curtain, had watched them go down the street, laughing and turning often to glance back at the house that held sucha queer-mannered inmate. 

Rousing himself from the gloomy revery into which he had lapsed, Ketchim switched on the light and took up again the report of Reedand Harris. Sullenly he turned its pages, while the sallow skin on hislow forehead wrinkled, and his bird-like face drew into uglycontortions. 

"Fools!" he muttered. "Didn't they see that clause in their contract, providing an additional fifty thousand in stock for them in case theymade a favorable report?"

A light tap at the door, and a low cough, preceded the noiselessentrance of the meek-souled Rawlins. 

"A--a--this is the list which Reverend Jurges sent us--names andaddresses of his congregation. I've mailed them all descriptivematter; and I wrote Mr. Jurges that the price of his stock would befive dollars, but that we couldn't sell to his congregation for lessthan seven. That's right, isn't it? I told him Molino stock would goup to par next month. That's what you said, I believe. "

"How much stock did Jurges say he'd take?" demanded Ketchim, withoutlooking up. 

"Why, he said he could only get together two thousand dollars atpresent, but that later he would have some endowment insurance fallingdue--"

"How soon?"

"About a year, I think he said. "

"Well, he ought to be able to borrow on that. Did you write him so?"

"No--but I can. "

"Do so--but only hint at it. And tell him to send his check at oncefor the stock he has agreed to take. "

"Why, he sent that some days ago. I thought you--"

"He did?" cried Ketchim, his interest now fully aroused. "Well, whereis it?"

"Er--your brother James received the letter, and I believe he put thecheck in his pocket. "

Ketchim gave vent to a snort of rage. "You tell James, " he cried, pounding the desk with his fist, "that as president and treasurer ofthe Molino Company I demand that check!"

"Yes, sir--and--"

"Well?"

"Mr. Cass 'phoned before you got down this morning. He said the bankrefused to extend the time on your note. "

Ketchim sank back limply into his chair, and his face became ashen. 

"And here is the mail, " pursued the gentle Hermes, handing him abundle of letters. 

Ketchim roused himself with an effort. His eyes flashed angrily. "Doyou know whether James has been selling any of his own Molino stock?"he asked. 

"I--I believe he has, sir--a little. "

"Humph! And how much?"

"He sold some two hundred shares yesterday--I believe; to a MissLeveridge. "

"Leveridge? Who's she? What did he get for it?"

"Why, the Leveridge children--grown men and women now--have just soldtheir farm down state; and Mr. James saw the sale announced in thepapers. So he got in touch with Miss Alvina Leveridge. I believe hesent Houghton down there; and he closed a deal. Mr. James got eightdollars a share, I believe. "

"You believe! You _know_, don't you?"

"Yes, sir, " meekly. 

Ketchim gulped down his wrath, and continued:

"How much did the Leveridges get for their farm? And why didn't youinform me of the sale?" he demanded, fixing the humble Rawlins with acold eye. 

"A--a--twenty-five thousand dollars, sir, I believe. And I didn't seethe notice until--"

"As usual, James saw it first! An excellent scout you are! Twenty-fivethousand dollars! How many acres?"

"A hundred and eighty, I believe. "

Ketchim reflected. "James is still dickering with Miss Leveridge, Isuppose?"

"I believe so, sir. "

"Nezlett got back last night, didn't he? Very well, call him up andtell him to get ready to go at once to--wherever the Leveridges live. And--I want to see him right away!"

He abruptly dismissed the factotum and turned to his mail. As hisglance fell upon the pile he gasped. Then he quickly drew out a letterand tore it open. His thin lips moved rapidly as his eyes roved overthe paper. He laid the letter down and looked wildly about. Then hetook it up again and read aloud the closing words:

 "--and, having bought somewhat heavily of Molino stock, and believing that your representations were made with intent to deceive, I shall, unless immediate reparation or satisfactory explanation is made, take such steps as my counsel may advise. 

 "Yours, etc. , "J. WILTON AMES. "

Congealing with fear, Ketchim took his stock memorandum from a drawerand consulted it. "He put in ten thousand, cash, " he murmured, closingthe book and replacing it. "And I always wondered why, for he doesn'tgo into things that he can't control. There's where I was a fool! Heshouldn't have been sold a dollar's worth! He knows we can't returnthe money; and now he's tightening the screws! He has something up hissleeve; and we've fallen for it!"

He settled back in his chair and groaned aloud. "Why did he buy? Didhe think he'd reach Uncle Ted through us? By Jove! that's it! For ayear or more he's wanted to oust Uncle from the C. & R. , and now hethinks by threatening the family with disgrace, and us fellows withthe pen, he can do it! What fools we've been! Oh, if I ever get out ofthis I'll steer clear of these deals in the future!" It was his stockresolution, which had never borne fruit. 

The door opened slightly, and the noiseless Rawlins timidly announcedthe arrival of Reed and Harris. 

"Show them in at once!" cried Ketchim, jumping up and hastily passinghis hands over his hair and face. Then, advancing with a wan smile, hecourteously greeted the callers. 

"Well, fellows, " he began, waving them to seats, "it looks alittle bad for Molino, doesn't it? I've just been reading yourreport--although of course you told me over the 'phone yesterdaythat there was no hope. But, " he continued gravely, and his facegrew serious, "I'm glad, very glad, of one thing, and that is thatthere are men in the world to-day who are above temptation. "

"Which means--?" queried Harris. 

"Why, " continued Ketchim, smiling pallidly, "the little joker thatJames inserted in the contract, about your getting fifty thousand inthe event of a favorable report. I told him it didn't look well--buthe said it would test you. He would be funny, though, no matter howserious the business. But you showed that you were men. "

Harris snickered; but Reed turned the conversation at once. "We havebeen studying how we could help you pull the thing out of the fire. Suppose you give us, " he suggested, "a little of Molino's history. Then perhaps something may occur to us. "

"There isn't much to tell, " replied Ketchim gloomily. "The mines werelocated by a man named Lakes, at one time acting-Consul at Cartagena. He is half Colombian, I believe. He came up to New York and interestedBryan, Westler, and some others, and they asked us to act as fiscalagents. "

"But you never had title to the property, " said Reed. 

"Certainly we have the title! Why do you say that?"

"Because, on our way down the Magdalena river we made the acquaintanceof a certain Captain Pinal, of the Colombian army. When he learnedthat we were mining men he told us he had a string of rich propertiesthat he would like to sell. I inquired their location, and he saidthey lay along the Boque river. And I learned that he had clear titleto the property, too--Molino's mines. Now you have sold some three orfour hundred thousand dollars' worth of stock on alleged mines towhich you never had even the shadow of a claim!"

"But--" murmured Ketchim weakly, "we thought we had. We acted in goodfaith--we took Mr. Lakes's word--and we showed our confidence andsincerity by purchasing machinery to operate--"

"Oh, the machinery went down there, all right!" ejaculated Harris witha laugh. "I judge it was designed to manufacture barrel staves, ratherthan to extract gold! Lakes had it shipped to Cartagena; rented partof an old woman's house; dumped the machinery in there; and now she'swild. Can't get her pay from you for storing the machinery; and can'tsell the stuff, nor move it. So there she sits, under some six oreight tons of iron junk, waiting for the Lord to perform a miracle!"

Ketchim smiled feebly. "It's too bad!" he murmured. "But Molino has nofunds--"

"You are still selling stock, aren't you?" demanded Reed. 

"Oh, no!" quickly returned Ketchim. "We would not sell any more stockuntil we received your report--and not then, unless the report werefavorable. That would not have been right!"

Reed eyed him narrowly. But the image of truth sat enthroned uponKetchim's sharp features. 

"It is unfortunate, boys, " the promoter continued dejectedly. "But Icare nothing for my own losses; it's the poor stockholders I amthinking about. I would do anything to relieve them. I've prayed to beled to do right. What would you suggest?"

"I suggest, " blurted out Harris, "that, having already relieved themconsiderably, you'll soon be wearing a striped suit!"

The last trace of color faded from Ketchim's face, but the sicklysmile remained. "I'd wear it, willingly, if by so doing I could helpthese poor people, " he mournfully replied. 

"Well, " pursued Harris, "it'll help some when they learn that you'rein one. "

"Boys, " said Ketchim suddenly, quite disregarding the insinuation, "to-morrow is Sunday, and I want you both out to dinner with me, andwe will talk this all over. Then in the afternoon I want you to comeover and see my little Sunday school. Fellows, " he continued gravely, "I've prayed for you and for your success every day since you left. And my faith in my Saviour is too great to be shattered now by youradverse report. He certainly will show us a way out; and I can trusthim and wait. "

Reed and Harris looked at him and then at each other with puzzledexpressions on their faces. The man continued earnestly:

"Colombia is a rich and undeveloped country, you have said. There mustbe other mineral properties available there. Did you see none on yourtravels? Or could we not organize an exploration party to search formines?"

"Who'd furnish the wherewithal?" asked Harris bluntly. 

"Oh, that could be arranged. "

"Will your sheep stand for further shearing?" queried the grinningHarris. 

"Fellows, " said Ketchim, brightening and drawing his chair closer, "you've got something--I know it! You've got something to suggest thatwill save the Molino stockholders!"

"But not yourself, eh?" taunted Harris. 

"I shall sacrifice myself, " answered Ketchim deprecatingly. His mannerhad now become animated, and he leaned expectantly toward them. 

Reed and Harris again looked questioningly at each other. "I guess wemight as well, " said Reed in a low voice. "It is bound to come out, anyway. "

"Sure, " returned Harris; "drive ahead. "

"Mr. Ketchim, " began Reed, turning to the eager, fidgeting man, "whenI came to New York a year ago, looking for a business opening, myfriend and former classmate in the University, Mr. Cass, put me intouch with you. At that time you were booming the Molino company hard, and, I have no doubt, thought you really had something down inColombia. But when you offered to lease me a portion of yourproperties there, I laughed at you. And, in the course of time, Isucceeded in convincing you that you knew nothing whatsoever about theproperties on which you were selling so much stock. Then, after monthsof parley, from an offer to permit me to go down to Colombia at my ownexpense to examine Molino's mines, to ascertain whether or not Iwished to operate a part of them on a royalty basis, you adopted myown view, namely, that the time had come for you to know whether thecompany possessed anything of value or not. And so you sent myassociate, Mr. Harris, and myself down there to examine and report onMolino's so-called mines. And you gave us each a block of stock aspart compensation. We found the mines barren. And now you have got toface a body of stockholders from whom you have lured thousands ofdollars by your misrepresentations. From talks with your salesmen, Iam convinced that this body of stockholders is made up chiefly ofwidows and indigent clergymen. "

"Which of my salesmen told you that?" interrupted Ketchim heatedly. 

"Let us waive that, " replied Reed calmly. "The fact is, you are in ahard way just at present, is it not so?"

"Fellows, " said Ketchim, with an air of penitent humility, "theofficers and stockholders of the Molino Company have been grosslydeceived and unfortunately--"

"All right, " interrupted Reed, "we'll pass that. But Harris and I haveplayed square with you. And we are going to continue to do so, and tooffer you a possible opportunity to do something for your poorstockholders, and incidentally for yourself and us. The fact is, we doknow of another property down there, but we haven't the title--"

"That makes no difference!" interrupted Ketchim. "I mean, it can beacquired--" striving to restrain his eagerness. 

"That's just the question, " replied Reed. "The title is at presentvested in a young Colombian girl, who, unfortunately, is lost. Thisgirl came up to the States with us--"

"Ha!" exclaimed Ketchim, unable longer to hold himself. "Then youbroke your contract, for that stipulated that whatever you mightacquire there should belong to me! I engaged your services, remember!"

"I believe, " put in Harris dryly, "we were employed by the Molinocompany. "

"But my mother advanced the funds to send you down there!" criedKetchim. 

"How about the poor stockholders?" queried Harris, with an insinuatinggrin. 

"I'm speaking for the stockholders, of course, " said Ketchim, subsiding. "But, proceed, please. "

"There is no likelihood that this poor girl will ever be heard ofagain, " continued Reed. "Nor is it likely that the title papers, whichshe has with her, will be of any use to those into whose hands she hasfallen. Her old foster-father held the title to this mine, buttransferred it to the girl, stipulating that she and I should divide alarge interest in the stock of a company formed to develop and operateit. For my share, I agreed to bring the young girl to the States andplace her in a school, at my own expense. " He went on to relate themanner in which Carmen had been lost, and then continued: "Of course, the title to this mine is registered in Cartagena, and in the girl'sname, as the old man gave me power to have that change made. But, nowthat she is gone, the property naturally reverts to him. "

"We will relocate it!" declared Ketchim impatiently. 

"No, that wouldn't be right to the old man, " returned Reed. "But, itmight be that the property could now be secured from him. He is oldand penniless, and without any further interest in life. It is a barechance, but we might prevail upon him to join us in the formation of acompany to take over his mine, La Libertad. "

"Is that the name of it?" asked Ketchim, reaching for a writing pad. "Spell it for me, please. And the name of the old man. "

Reed complied, and then continued: "Now, Mr. Ketchim, we are livingstrictly up to the letter of our contract by giving you thisinformation. It would require not less than one hundred thousanddollars, cash in hand, to acquire that mine, develop it, make trails, and erect a stamp-mill. Mr. Harris and I are in no conditionfinancially to advance or secure such an amount. "

"It is barely possible, " mused Harris, "that my father and Uncle Johncould do something. "

"We don't have to call upon them!" cried Ketchim. "Your interest, Mr. Reed, in this mine already belongs to Molino, as you were acting undercontract with us--"

"I have covered that point, Mr. Ketchim, " replied Reed evenly. "Butthe time has come for us all to put our shoulders to the wheel, actfairly with one another, help the Molino stockholders, and at the sametime make good ourselves. Mr. Harris and I have barely entered uponour business careers, and we have come to New York to establishourselves. This may afford the opportunity. We know where this mineis--we know the old man, and may be able to influence him. Toforestall possible complications, we should begin negotiations withhim at once. But--remember--everything must be done in the name of thecompany, not in your own name. And Mr. Harris and I must personallynegotiate with the old man, and receive a very liberal compensationfor our work. "

"Certainly!" cried the excited Ketchim. "Goodness, fellows! why didn'tyou tell me this yesterday over the 'phone, and save me a night oftorment? But I forgive you. Gracious! Rawlins, " he said, addressingthat individual, who had entered in response to the buzzer, "'phoneCass to come right over. And tell Miss Honeywell to give you tendollars for our lunch, and charge it to Molino. It's company business. By Jove, fellows! this is a happy day for me. Since the old man gaveyou a share in the mine, Molino has property, after all!"

"Has it to get, " amended Harris dubiously. 

"Oh, we'll get it!" cried Ketchim, rubbing his hands gleefully. "Butnow while waiting for Cass, tell me more about your trip. It iswonderful! And so romantic!"

In the midst of the ensuing recital, Cass was announced; and Ketchim, after detailing to him the previous conversation, launched into theproject which had been developing in his own mind while Reed had beendescribing his experiences in the South. 

"What we want is another organization, fellows, " he said inconclusion, "to take over the tottering Molino; purchase its assetswith stock; give Molino stockholders an opportunity to get in on theground floor, and so on. We'll let Molino die in the arms of a newcompany, eh?"

"But one with a somewhat wider scope, " suggested Cass, with an air ofimportance. "A sort of general development company, to secure LaLibertad, if possible; prospect for other mineral properties; anddevelop the resources of the country. "

"Just so, " assented Ketchim, with increasing enthusiasm. "A company togo in for coffee, cotton--you say you saw wild cotton, didn't you, fellows? Great! And cocoanuts, timber, cattle--in fact, we'll getconcessions from the Colombian Government, and we'll--"

"Just rip things wide open, eh?" finished Harris. 

"That's it!" cried Ketchim radiantly. "Uncle Ted has influence atWashington, with the Pan American Union, and so on--why, we can getanything we want! Ames and the bank will both cool down--by Jove, thisis great!"

"But where's the cold and vulgar cash coming from to oil the wheels?"put in the practical Harris. 

"Oh, I can sell the stock, " replied Ketchim. "Then, too, there's theMolino stockholders; why, I'll bet there's hardly one that wouldn't beable to scrape up a few dollars more for the new company! By the way, what'll we call it? Give us a name, somebody. "

"I'd call it the Salvation Company, " drawled Harris, "as it is likelyto delay your trip to Sing Sing. "

A general laugh, in which Ketchim joined heartily, followed theremark. 

"I suggest we call it the Simití Development Company, " said Cass, after a moment's dignified reflection. 

"Great!" cried Ketchim. "It has a prosperous ring! And now itscapitalization? We must make it big!"

"Hem!" returned Cass. "If these gentlemen can acquire that mine, Ithink I would capitalize for, say, about three millions. " He went tothe desk and made some calculations. "I assume, " he continued somewhatpompously after a few moments' figuring, "that you wish to retain me, and that I am to take my compensation in stock?"

Ketchim quickly assented. He knew that Cass had correctly concludedthat in no other way was he likely to be reimbursed. And, at best, itwas only a hazard, a wild gamble. In fact, it was a last desperatechance. Moreover, stock was always available; while cash was a rarecommodity. 

"Suppose, then, " continued the sapient young lawyer, "that wecapitalize for three millions; set aside one million, five hundred andone thousand as treasury stock, to be sold to raise money fordevelopment purposes; transfer to the Ketchim Realty Company onemillion, as compensation for acting as fiscal agents of the newcompany; transfer to these two gentlemen, as part compensation forpast and future services, the sum of four hundred thousand in stock;give to the stockholders of the Molino Company the sum of fifty-ninethousand in stock for all the assets, machinery, good will, _etcetera_, of that company; and to me, for services to be rendered, forty thousand dollars' worth of the stock. All of us shall agree notto sell any of our personal holdings of stock until the company shallbe placed upon a dividend-paying basis. And Mr. Reed, or Mr. Harris, or both, will return to Colombia immediately to relocate the mine, andprepare for its development, while the Ketchim Realty Company at onceendeavor to sell the treasury stock. "

Having delivered himself of this comprehensive plan, Cass settled backin his chair and awaited remarks. 

"Well, " observed Ketchim at length, "that's all right--only, I thinkwe should be allowed to sell our personal stock if we wish. Ofcourse, " with a deprecating wave of his hand, "there isn't theslightest likelihood of our ever wanting to do that--with a mine suchas you have described, fellows. But--why hedge us about?"

"Not one dollar's worth of your stock shall you be permitted to sell!"cried Harris, bringing his fist down upon the desk. 

"I suggest that we leave that for the Directors to decide later, "offered Cass, anxious to avoid discord. He was young, scarcely out ofthe twenties, just married, just admitted to the bar, and eager to geta toe-hold in the world of business. "And now, " he concluded, "ifagreeable to you, I will put this through at once, organize thecompany, and get the charter. You gentlemen will return to Colombia assoon as Mr. Ketchim can provide the necessary funds. "

"Mr. Harris and I have formed an engineering partnership, " said Reed. "As such, we will handle the affairs of the new company in Colombia. Mr. Harris will proceed to that country, while I go to California toopen a copper mine which we have taken over there. In time I willrelieve Mr. Harris in the South. Now, Mr. Ketchim, what can you do?"

"I'll send Houghton and Nezlett out on the road to-morrow. Rawlinshas just told me of one prospect, a bully one! We don't need towait for the papers from Albany before going ahead. But we find itcosts about forty-eight cents to sell a dollar's worth of stock, andso some time will be needed to raise enough to send Mr. Harris backto Colombia--unless, " he added, eying Harris furtively, "he willadvance us the amount of his own expenses--"

"Which he will not!" retorted Harris warmly. "I haven't it, anyway. Nor has Reed. We're both broke. "

"There's a revolution on down there now, " said Reed, "and we'd bettergo easy for a while. Besides, Harris needs time to study the language. But, are we all agreed on the terms? Salary for Harris while inColombia to be settled later, of course. "

"It's all satisfactory, I think, " said Ketchim, smiling happily. "Thedetails can be worked out anon--Molino stockholders' meeting, and soon. "

"Then, " said Reed, rising, "we will consider the new company launched, to take over the defunct Molino and to operate on a comprehensivescale in Colombia, beginning with the development of La Libertad, ifwe can secure it. "

At that moment Rawlins opened the door and peered in. "A gentleman tosee Mr. Reed, " he announced softly; "a priest, I believe. "

Harris sprang to his feet. The door swung open, and Father Waiteentered with Carmen. 

With a glad cry the girl dropped her bundle and bounded into the armsof the astonished Harris. Reed grasped the priest's hand, and beggedhim to speak. Ketchim and the young lawyer looked on in perplexity. 

"I was unable to find your name in the city directory, Mr. Reed, "explained the priest, his face beaming with happiness. "But at policeheadquarters I found that you had made inquiries, and that detectiveswere searching for the girl. I learned that you were living with yourwife's sister, and that you had no business address, having just comeup from South America. So I telephoned to your sister-in-law, and yourwife informed me that you had an appointment this morning at thisoffice. I therefore came directly here with the girl, who, as you see, is safe and sound, but with an additional interesting experience ortwo to add to the large fund she already possessed. " He looked down atCarmen and smiled. "And now, " he concluded, laughing, as he preparedto depart, "I will not ask for a receipt for the child, as I see Ihave several witnesses to the fact that I have delivered her to theproper custodian. " He bowed and went to the door. 

"Wait!" cried Reed, seizing him by the hand. "We want to thank you! Wewant to know you--"

"I will give you my card, " replied the priest. "And I would be veryhappy, indeed, if some time again I might be permitted to see and talkwith the little girl. " He handed his card to Reed; then nodded andsmiled at Carmen and went out. 

"By Jove!" sputtered Harris, pushing the girl aside and making afterhim. But he was too late. The priest had already caught a descendingelevator, and disappeared. Harris returned to the bewildered group. "Iguess that knocks the Simití Company sky-high, " he exclaimed, "forhere is the sole owner of La Libertad!"

Ketchim collapsed into a chair, while Reed, saying that he would keephis dinner engagement with Ketchim on the following day, picked upCarmen's precious bundle and, taking her hand, left the room. "I amgoing home, " he called back to Harris; "and you be sure to come up tothe house to-night. We'll have to readjust our plans now. "

CHAPTER 5

"Reed, " said Harris the following day, as they sat in the dusty, creaking car that was conveying them to their dinner appointment withKetchim, "who is this Ames that Ketchim referred to yesterday?"

The men were not alone, for Carmen accompanied them. Reed wasreluctantly bringing her at the urgent request received from Ketchimover the telephone the previous evening. But the girl, subdued by therush of events since her precipitation into the seething Americanworld of materialism, sat apart from them, gazing with rapt attentionthrough the begrimed window at the flying scenery, and trying tointerpret it in the light of her own tenacious views of life and theuniverse. If the marvels of this new world into which she had beenthrown had failed to realize her expectations--if she saw in them, andin the sense of life which they express, something less real, lesssubstantial, than do those who laud its grandeur and power tocharm--she gave no hint. She was still absorbing, sifting anddigesting the welter of impressions. She had been overpowered, smothered by the innovation; and she now found her thoughts a tangledjumble, which she strove incessantly to unravel and classify accordingto their content of reality, as judged by her own standards. 

"Why, Ames, " replied Reed, turning a watchful eye upon Carmen, "is amultimillionaire financier of New York--surely you have heard of him!He and his clique practically own the United States, and a largeslice of Europe. For some reason Ames bought a block of Molino stock. And now, I judge, Ketchim would give his chances on eternal life if hehadn't sold it to him. And that's what's worrying me, too. For, sinceAmes is heavily interested in Molino, what will he do to the newcompany that absorbs it?"

"There isn't going to be any new company, " asserted Harris doggedly. 

"There's got to be!" cried Reed. "Ketchim holds us strictly to ourcontract. Our negotiations with old Rosendo were made while in theemploy of Molino. It wouldn't be so bad if we had only Ketchim to dealwith. We've got the goods on him and could beat him. But here entersAmes, a man of unlimited wealth and influence. If he wants LaLibertad, he's going to get it, you mark me! Where we fell down was inever mentioning it to Ketchim. For if we don't come over now he willlay the whole affair before Ames. He told me over the 'phone lastnight that he was badly in debt--that Ames was pressing him--that manyof the Molino stockholders were making pertinent inquiries. Oh, hequite opened his heart! And yesterday I saw on his desk a letter fromAmes. I can imagine what it contained. Ketchim would sacrifice us andeverything else to keep himself out of Ames's grip. We're in for it, Itell you! And all because we were a bit too previous in believing thatthe girl had disappeared for good. "

"By Jove!" exclaimed Harris, "but doesn't it sound like a fairy-tale, the way Carmen got back to us?"

"And here I am, " continued Reed, with a gesture of vexation, "leftwith the girl on my hands, and with a very healthy prospect of losingout all around. My wife said emphatically last night that she wouldn'tbe bothered with Carmen. "

"Well, she won't bother you. Send her away to school. "

"Fine! Good idea!" replied Reed sarcastically. "But do you realizethat that involves expense? I'm a comparatively poor man, just gettinga start in my profession, and with a young and socially ambitiouswife!"

"But--your wife--er, she's going to--to have money some day, isn'tshe?"

"Very true. But the grim reaper has a little work to do first. And onoccasions like this he's always deucedly deliberate, you know. Meantime, we're skating close to the edge--for New Yorkers. "

"Well, we may be able to beat Ketchim. Now, my father and UncleJohn--"

"Oh, shoot your father and Uncle John!" snapped Reed impatiently. 

The conductor opened the door and bawled a cryptical announcement. 

"This is the place, " said Reed, starting up and making for the door. "And now you rake your thought for some way to deal with Ketchim. Andleave your father and Uncle John entirely out of the conversation!"

Ketchim was just bowing out a caller as the young engineers mountedthe steps. "See that fellow!" he exclaimed, after giving them a heartywelcome. "I just sold him a hundred shares of Simití stock, at fivedollars a share--just half of par. Beginning right on the jump, eh?"

"But--" protested Harris, as they entered the spacious parlor, "thecompany isn't even in existence yet--and hasn't an asset!"

"Oh, that's all right, " replied Ketchim easily. "It's coming intoexistence, and will have the grandest mine in South America! Boys, " hewent on earnestly, "I've been talking over the 'phone with Mr. Ames, our most influential stockholder, and a very warm friend of mine. Itold him about our conversation of yesterday. He says, go right aheadwith the new company--that it's a great idea. He's satisfied with hispresent holding, and will not increase it. Says he wants Molinostockholders to have the opportunity to purchase all the treasurystock, if they want to. "

"Decidedly magnanimous, " returned Reed. "But--what about the basis oforganization of the new company?"

"Leave it as we planned it, he says. He thinks the arrangement anddivision of stock fine!"

Reed and Harris looked at each other questioningly. It did not seempossible. 

"But, " went on Ketchim, "have you seen the morning papers? They arefull of the revolution in Colombia. The country is torn wide open, and reports say nothing can be done down there until peace isrestored--and that may take a year or two. But, meantime, we will goahead and organize the new company and take over Molino and prepareto begin work just as soon as you fellows can get into that country. Everybody has simply got to wait until then. And so this, " going toCarmen and taking her hand, "is the wonderful little girl! Well!well!"

The entrance of Mrs. Ketchim and her troop of children at thisjuncture interrupted the conversation. "All enthusiastic Simitístockholders, " said Ketchim, waving his hand toward them, after theintroductions. "And all going to get rich out of it, too--as well asyourselves, boys. It simply shows how Providence works--one with Godis a majority, always. "

Carmen glanced up at him wonderingly. 

Dinner over, the men were left alone. Carmen had been taken upstairsby the children to the nursery. 

"I've got myself slated for the presidency of the new company, " saidKetchim, plunging again into the subject nearest his heart; "and Ithink we'd better put brother James in as vice-president. Perfectlysafe, " looking at Harris and winking. "He's got to be recognized, youknow, since the Ketchim Realty Company act as fiscal agents. Now fordirectors I've put down Judge Harris, your father--that's to assureyou boys that there'll be some one to look after your interests. Thenwe'll say Reverend Jurges for another. He's got a big congregation andwill be able to place a lot of stock. You just ought to see the letterhe wrote me about selling stock to his people! You'd never believe hewas a good, spiritually-minded clergyman, with an eye single toheavenly riches! Then one of you fellows, say Reed, had better go onthe directorate, since Harris will be in Colombia in charge ofoperations. And--well, Cass, too. He's young and immature, butabsolutely square. He'll do all the legal work for his stock interest. We save money that way, see?"

"But what do I do while we are waiting?" asked Harris in someperplexity. "Reed goes to California right away, you know. "

"That's all right, old man, " Ketchim genially assured him. "The newcompany will be organized at once--this week, if possible. You go onsalary from the moment of its incorporation, and you open your officeright here in this building. I'll see that the rent is paid until yougo back to Colombia. Everything's arranged, and you turn right in andhelp Cass with the new company. There'll be plenty to do. You've gotto prepare circulars; write boosting letters to stockholders andprospects; follow up leads; and--oh, you'll be busy! But here comesReverend Coles, " looking out of the window as a man came up the steps. "He's interested in some projects I've been exploiting. Just excuse mefor a few moments. "

He hastened out to greet the visitor and conducted him into a backroom. Reed and Harris were left to the contemplation of their ownmixed thoughts. Presently Harris, whose eyes had been dilatingfor some moments, broke out in a hoarse whisper: "Listen! Goda'mighty!--he's praying!"

He got up softly and approached the door of the room into whichKetchim had taken his caller. In a few minutes he returned to hischair. "By Jove!" he exclaimed. "I could see Ketchim through thekeyhole, on his knees by the bed, praying with that fellow! Now whatthe d--!"

Reed held up a warning finger. Through the silence that fell uponthem snatches of the prayer being offered in the adjoining roomfloated to their ears--"O, blessed Saviour, vouchsafe prosperity toour venture, we beseech thee! The earth is the Lord's, and thefullness thereof--we ask thy blessing on these efforts of ours towrest from the ground the wealth which the Father of lights hasdeposited there for the benefit of His children--"

Harris snickered aloud. "What's the game?" he whispered. 

Reed shook his head in warning. "It may not be a game, " he replied. "But if it is, it's an old one, hiding behind the mask of religion. But I'm inclined to believe the man sincere. "

"And I'm not!" retorted Harris. "I'd rather deal with his brother. Iknow James to be an out-and-out rascal--he openly flies the blackflag. But this pious fellow--well, he's got me guessing!"

The caller soon departed, and Ketchim again joined the young men. "He's our assistant pastor, " he said musingly, as he watched the mango down the walk. "Nice young fellow, waiting for a church. He andsome of his friends are interested in a zinc mine we've been floating, down in the Joplin district. "

"Got titles?" queried the cynical Harris, with a twinkle in his eyes. 

"Oh, yes, " Ketchim smiled affably. 

"Mine producing?"

"Well, no--not yet. Lots of development work to be done, you know. Always is. And there's a lot of water in this mine. "

"And in the stock, too, eh?" pursued the cruel Harris. "Got any ore?"

"We haven't struck the deposit yet, although we expect to soon. But, "glancing up at the clock on the mantel, "we'll have to be going overto Sunday school now. And I want that little girl to go with Marjorie. Fellows, " the man's face became deeply serious, "I have no doubt youare both church members?"

Reed fidgeted uneasily under Ketchim's searching glance; but Harrisfrankly met the question. "Nope, " he asserted, "we're both rankheathen. And I'm a dyed-in-the-wool atheist. "

"Gracious!" cried Ketchim, "how can you say that, when you see thegoodness of the Lord on every hand?"

"Reed, I believe, " continued the imperturbable Harris, waving a handtoward his friend, "has philosophical leanings--New Thought, Subliminal Consciousness, Power in Silence, and all that. But I've gotto be shown. "

"But surely you believe in the divinity of the Christ?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, I never gave it much thought, " saidHarris. "Been pretty busy, you know. Lots of time for that later. "

"Ah, that's what so many say, " replied Ketchim sadly; "and then comesthe awful voice of the Lord, 'This night thy soul shall be required ofthee!' Fellows, I want to pray for you; and I want you both to promiseme that you will take up seriously the consideration of your souls'welfare. It's too grave a subject for jest, " addressing himselfsolemnly to the grinning Harris. 

"All right, old man, " laughed Harris. "But don't dig up anyPresbyterian tracts for me. I've got a living witness to--well, tosomething out of the ordinary, in that girl, Carmen, and I'm inclinedto believe she's dug nearer to bottom facts than any of you. So whenI'm ready to discuss my soul's welfare I'll just consult her, see?"

"That reminds me, " said Ketchim, turning abruptly to Reed, "what doyou intend to do with the girl?"

"_Quien sabe?_" Reed answered abstractedly. "Send her to a boardingschool, I guess. At least, that's what I told the old man I'd do. "

"So you said before, " Ketchim returned. "But where?"

"Don't know yet. "

"Well, let me make a suggestion. My daughter Marjorie leaves Tuesdayfor Conway-on-the-Hudson, where she has been attending Madam Elwin'sSelect School for Girls. Suppose you go with her--I'm too busy, myself--and take Carmen. It's only a few hours' ride by boat down theriver. And the school is without equal. This is Marjorie's third yearthere, and she's simply in love with it. "

Reed began to show signs of interest; and Ketchim, noting the effectof his words, went on briskly:

"Now look here, Molino owes its salvation, and the new company itsexistence, to that girl. Why shouldn't they do something to show theirgratitude? I say, it is no more than right that the new company shouldsupport her while she is in school. "

"By Jove! not a half-bad idea, " commented Harris. 

"Certainly not, " continued Ketchim earnestly. "Now fix up everythingwith her as regards the transfer of the mine to the new company, andthen let her go with Marjorie to the Elwin school. We can, if youlike, make some agreement with her to the effect that when the companyis on its feet and she is receiving dividends, she shall return whatit may advance for her schooling, eh?"

"You'd better accept the suggestion, Reed, " put in Harris. "I'll behere, you know, to keep an eye on the girl; and I'll take her andMarjorie down to Conway myself, and attend to getting her locatedright. "

Reed continued to reflect. He was hardly in a position to refuse suchan offer. Besides, he was really leaving her in charge of Harris. "Well, " he said at length, "in that case I could leave for Californiato-morrow night. That matter is pressing hard--all right, I accept thecompany's offer. It's no more than is due the girl, anyway. "

"Good!" replied Ketchim. "I'll make the necessary arrangements atonce. And now let's go over to church. "

Thus it was that two days later Carmen, still wondering if she wasdreaming, was enrolled in the Elwin Select School for Girls, withMarjorie Ketchim for roommate; while Reed, on the Overland Limited, hurrying to the far West, was musing dubiously at frequent intervalson Ketchim's rather conflicting statements, which, until left to thisenforced leisure, he had not had time to try to reconcile. At the sametime, while Harris was loudly declaiming to the gracious Madam Elwinon the astonishing mental prowess of the girl, Ketchim and Cass satdeeply immersed in the tentative plans for the newly-projected SimitíDevelopment Company. 

"Now listen, " said Ketchim, who for some minutes had been quietlyscanning his youthful lawyer, "Ames knows nothing about the formationof this company, but Harris and Reed are not to know that; and we'regoing to keep Ames in ignorance of all our plans. With the first salesof stock--and they've already begun--we'll return him his Molinoinvestment. Nezlett wired me this morning that he's sure to sell a bigblock to the Leveridges, that they're mightily interested, and want tomeet Carmen. We'll use the girl for just such purposes. That's onereason why I wanted her handy, so's we could reach her at any time. She makes a star impression; and with her as an advertisement we'llsell a million dollars' worth of stock, and no trouble at all! She'sgot that honest look that's convincing. And she can tell a story thatbeats the Arabian Nights! Ames has given me a week to explain, or makegood his investment. By that time we'll have the Leveridges sold fortwice his investment, and we'll just pay him off and remove him. Meantime, you go over to the bank in the morning and put up the bestline of talk you're capable of. I've got sixteen hundred dollars togive 'em on that note; and that'll secure more time, until the salesof stock are enough to pay it all up. Perhaps Uncle Ted will advanceme enough to take up the note when he hears about La Libertad. And, say, you see brother James, and shake the club over him until hedisgorges that check he got from Miss Leveridge. You can hand him ascare that he won't get over. By George, old man! things have taken agreat turn, eh? Why, I can just see Simití stock sales humping thesenext few months. Oh, Miss Honeywell, " calling to his cashier, "bringme five dollars, please, and charge it to Molino--I mean, to Simití. Make a new account for that now. " Then, again addressing Cass: "Comewith me to the football game this afternoon. We can discuss plansthere as well as here. Gee whiz, but I feel great!"

CHAPTER 6

Carmen's rapid transition from the eternal solitudes of Guamocó to thewhirring activities of New York was like a plunge into the maelstrom, and left her groping blindly in the effort to adapt herself to thechanged order. There was little in her former mode of existence thatcould be transferred to her new environment, and she felt that she wasstarting life like a new-born babe. For days, even weeks, she movedabout dreamily, absorbed, ceaselessly striving to orient herself andto accept easily and naturally the marvels, the sudden accession ofmaterial aids, and the wonders of this modern, complex civilization, so common to her associates, but scarcely even dreamed of by her inher former home, despite the preparation which Josè had tried to giveher. The Elwin school was small, its student-body seldom numberingmore than fifty, and in it Carmen found herself hedged about byrestrictions which in a way were beneficial, in that they narrowed herenvironment and afforded her time for her slow adjustment to it. 

But if these restrictions aided her, they also rendered the length ofher stay in the school almost calculable. Little by little the girlsaw the forces developing which she knew must effect her dismissal;little by little, as Madam Elwin's manner toward her became lessgracious, and her schoolmates made fewer efforts to conceal from herthe fact that she was not one of them, Carmen prepared for theinevitable. Six months after the girl's enrollment, Madam Elwinterminated her series of disparaging reports to Ketchim by a requestthat he come at once and remove his charge from the school. 

"As I have repeatedly said, Mr. Ketchim, the girl is a paradox. Andafter these months of disappointing effort to instruct her, I amforced to throw up my hands in despair and send for you. " Madam Elwintapped nervously with a dainty finger upon the desk before her. 

"But, if I may be permitted the question, what specific reasons haveyou, Madam, for--ah, for requesting her removal?" asked the veryReverend Dr. William Jurges, who, having come up to the city toattend a meeting of the directors of the Simití company, had acceptedKetchim's invitation to first accompany him on his flying trip toConway-on-the-Hudson, in response to Madam Elwin's peremptorysummons. 

"Because, " replied that worthy personage with a show of exasperation, "Iconsider her influence upon the young ladies here quite detrimental. Our school, while non-sectarian, is at least Christian. Miss Carmenis not. Where she got her views, I can not imagine. At first she madefrequent mention of a Catholic priest, who taught her in her home town, in South America. But of late she has grown very reserved--I might say, sullen, and talks but little. Her views, however, are certainly notCatholic. In her class work she has become impossible. She refuses toaccept a large part of our instruction. Her answers to examinationquestions are wholly in accord with her peculiar views, and hence quiteapart from the texts. For that reason she fails to make any grades, excepting in mathematics and the languages. She utterly refuses toaccept any religious instruction whatsoever. She would not be calledatheistic, for she talks--or used to at first--continually about God. But her God is not the God of the Scriptures, Dr. Jurges. She is afree-thinker, in the strictest sense. And as such, we can notconsent to her remaining longer with us. "

"Ah--quite so, Madam, quite so, " returned the clergyman, in hisunconsciously pompous manner. "Doubtless the child's thoughtbecame--ah--contaminated ere she was placed in your care. But--ah--Ihave heard so much from our good friend, Mr. Ketchim, regarding thisyoung girl, that--ah--I should like exceedingly to see and talk withher--if it might be--ah--"

"Madam Elwin will arrange that, I am sure, " interposed Ketchim. "Suppose, " he suggested, addressing the lady, "we let him talk withher, while I discuss with you our recently acquired mine in SouthAmerica, and the advisability of an investment with us. "

"Certainly, " acquiesced Madam Elwin, rising and pressing one of theseveral buttons in the desk. "Bring Miss Carmen, " she directed, to themaid who answered the summons. 

"Pardon me, " interrupted Dr. Jurges; "but may I go to her? Ah--itwould doubtless be less embarrassing for the child. "

"Miss Carmen was in the chapel a few moments ago, " volunteered themaid. 

"Then take the doctor there, " returned Madam Elwin, with a gesture ofdismissal. 

At the head of the stairway the mingled sounds of a human voice andthe soft, trembling notes of an organ drifted through the long halland fell upon the ears of the clergyman. 

"Miss Carmen, " said the maid, answering his unspoken thought. "Sheoften comes up to the chapel and sings for hours at a time--alone. Thechapel is down there, " pointing to the end of the hall. 

"Then--ah--leave me, " said the doctor. "I will proceed alone. "

The maid turned willingly and went below, while the man tiptoed tothe chapel door. There he stopped and stood listening. The girl wassinging in Spanish, and he could not understand the words. But theywould have meant nothing to him then. It was the voice upon whichthey were borne that held him. The song was a weird lament that hadcome down to the children of Simití from the hard days of the_Conquistadores_. It voiced the untold wrongs of the Indian slaves;its sad, unvarying minor echoed their smothered moans under thecruel goad; on the plaintive melody of the repeated chorus theirpiteous cries were carried to heaven's deaf ears; their dull despairfloated up on the wailing tones of the little organ, and then diedaway, as died the hope of the innocent victims of Spanish lust. 

The reverend doctor had never heard a song of that kind before. Norcould he readily associate the voice, which again and again he couldnot distinguish from the flute-like tones of the organ, with thesordidness and grime of material, fleshly existence. He entered softlyand took a seat in the shadow of a pillar. The clear, sweet voice ofthe young girl flowed over him like celestial balm. Song after songshe sang. Some were dreamy bits and snatches in Spanish and English;others were sacred in character. He wondered deeply, as the girl musedover these; yet he knew not that they were her own compositions. Curiosity and uncertainty mastered him at length, and he got softly tohis feet and moved away from the pillar, that he might see from whatmanner of being issued such unbroken harmony. But in his eagerness hisfoot struck a chair, and the sound echoed loudly through the room. 

The music abruptly ceased, and the girl rose and looked over the organat the intruder. 

"I--I beg your pardon, " said the clergyman, advancing in someembarrassment. "I was listening to your singing--uninvited, but nonethe less appreciative. I--"

"Wait, please!" cried the girl, hastily stooping over and fumblingwith her shoes. The doctor laughed genially, as he grasped thesituation. 

"I took them off, " she explained hurriedly. "I am not yet accustomedto them. I never wore shoes until I left Simití. " Her face wasscarlet, and she tried to cover her confusion with a little laugh. 

The doctor stood staring at her, lost in admiration of the shapelyfigure, the heavy, curling hair, and the wonderfully expressive face. The girl quickly recovered her poise and returned him a frank smile. 

"You wish to see me?" she said, after waiting in vain for him tobegin. 

"Ah--a--yes, certainly--that is, I beg your pardon, " stammered thedoctor. "I did request permission of Madam Elwin to make youracquaintance. We have heard so much about you. I am Doctor Jurges, anEpiscopal clergyman. " His sentences issued like blasts from an engineexhaust. 

"I am Carmen Ariza, " said the girl, extending her hand. 

"Ah--quite so, quite so, " blustered the doctor, clearing his throatnoisily. "Let us be seated. Ah--ah--you have a remarkable voice. Itgives evidence of careful cultivation. "

"No, " returned the girl simply. "It has never had any cultivation. Itis natural for me to sing. And my poor organ-playing is what I havepicked up myself these six months. "

The man regarded her with amazement. "Remarkable!" he murmured. 

The girl looked up into his face searchingly. "Why, " she asked, "should every one up here think it remarkable when a human mind isclear enough to be a transparency for God?"

Had the roof fallen, the excellent doctor could have been no morestartled. He cleared his throat violently again; then fumblednervously in his pocket and drew out his glasses. These he poised uponthe ample arch of his ecclesiastical nose, and through them turned apenetrating glance upon the girl. 

"H'm! yes, " said he at length; "quite so, quite so! And--ah--MissCarmen, that brings us to the matter in question--your religiousinstruction--ah--may I ask from whom you received it?"

"From God, " was the immediate and frank reply. 

The clergyman started, but quickly recovered his equipoise. 

"H'm! yes, quite so, quite so! All real instruction descendethfrom above. But--your religious views--I believe they are notconsidered--ah--quite evangelical, are they? By your presentassociates, that is. "

"No, " she replied, with a trace of sadness in her tone. "But, " lookingup with a queer little smile, "I am not persecuting them for that. "

"Oh, no, " with a jerky little laugh. "Assuredly not! H'm! I judge thepersecution has come from the other side, has it not?"

"We will not speak of that, " she said quickly. "They do notunderstand--that is all. "

"H'm! no, quite so--that is--ah--may I ask why you think they do notunderstand? May not you be in error, instead?"

"If that which I believe is not true, " the girl replied evenly, "itwill fail under the test of demonstration. Their beliefs have longsince failed under such test--and yet they still cling jealously tothem, and try to force them upon all who disagree with them. I am aheretic, Doctor. "

"H'm--ah--yes, I see. But--it is a quite unfortunate characteristicof mankind to attribute one's views indiscriminately to theAlmighty--and--ah--I regret to note that you are not wholly free fromthis error. "

"You do not understand, I think, " she quickly returned. "I put everyview, every thought, every idea to the test. If good is the result, Iknow that the thought or idea comes from the source of all good, God. The views I hold are those which I have time and again tested--andsome of them have withstood trials which I think you would regard asunusually severe. " Her thought had rested momentarily upon her vividexperience in Banco, the dangers which had menaced her in distantSimití, and the fire through which she had passed in her first hoursin Christian America, the land of churches, sects, and creeds. 

"H'm!" the worthy doctor mused, regarding the girl first through hisspectacles, and then over the tops of them, while his bushy eyebrowsmoved up and down with such comicality that Carmen could scarcelyrefrain from laughing. "H'm! quite so. Ah--suppose you relate to mesome of the tests to which your views have been subjected. "

"No, " she returned firmly; "those experiences were only states ofconsciousness, which are now past and gone forever. Why rehearse them?They were human, and so, unreal. Why go back now and give them theappearance of reality?"

"Unreal! H'm--then you do not regard untoward experience as given usby God for the testing of our faith, I take it. "

Carmen turned her head away with a little sigh of weariness. "Ithink, " she said slowly, "I think we had better not talk about thesethings, Doctor. You are a preacher. Your views are not mine. "

"Why--ah, " blustered the clergyman, assuming a more paternal air, "we--ah--would not for a moment cause you embarrassment, Miss Carmen!But--in fact, Madam Elwin has--ah--expressed her disapproval of yourviews--your religious ideals, if I may put it so baldly, and she--thatis--the good lady regrets--"

"She wishes to be rid of me, you mean, Doctor?" said the girl, turning and stretching a mental hand to the sinking divine. 

"H'm! well, hardly so--ah--so--"

"Doctor, " said the girl calmly, "I know it, and I wish to go. I havebeen waiting only to see the way open. I do not wish to remain longerin an atmosphere where ignorance and false belief stifle all realprogress. "

The doctor turned another look of astonishment upon her. He hadforgotten that he had not been talking with one of his own age. Thefact suddenly pressed upon him. "How old are you?" he blurted. 

Carmen could not help laughing. But if her clear mental gazepenetrated the ecclesiastical mask and surmounted the theologicalassumptions of her interlocutor, enabling her to get close to theheart of the man, she did not indicate it further. "I am nearlysixteen, " was her only reply. 

"Ah, " he reflected, "just a child! My dear girl, " he continued, layinga hand indulgently upon hers, "I will advise with Madam Elwin, andwill endeavor to convince her that--ah--that your spiritual welfare, if I may so put it, requires that you be not turned adrift at thiscritical, transitorial period of your life. We must all be patient, while we strive to counteract the--ah--the pernicious teaching towhich you were exposed before--ah--before becoming enrolled in thisexcellent school. "

Carmen looked at him steadily for a moment before replying. There wassomething of pity in the expression of her beautiful face, of tendersympathy for those who seek the light, and who must some day find it, but whose progress is as yet hampered by the human mind's unreasoningadherence to the stepping-stones over which it has been passingthrough the dark waters of ignorance. "Then, Doctor, " she said calmly, "you know what I have been taught?"

"Why--ah--yes--that is, vaguely. But--suppose you inform me briefly. "He was beginning to be sensible of having passed judgment upon thegirl without first according her a hearing. 

"Well, " she smiled up at him, "I have been taught the very hardestthing in the whole world. "

"H'm, indeed! Ah, quite so--and that?"

"To think. "

"To--ah--to think!" He again clutched at his mental poise. "Well, yes, quite so! But--ah--is it not the function of all our schools to teachus to think?"

"No, " answered the girl decidedly; "not to teach us to think, but tocause us blindly to accept what is ignorantly called 'authority'! Ifind we are not to reason, and particularly about religious matters, but to accept, to let those 'in authority' think for us. Is it not so?Are you not even now seeking to make me accept your religious views?And why? Because they are true? Oh, no; but because you believe themtrue--whether they are or not. Have you demonstrated their truth? Doyou come to me with proofs? Do your religious views rest upon anythingbut the human mind's undemonstrated interpretation of the Bible? Andyet you can not prove that interpretation true, even though you wouldforce it upon such as I, who may differ from you. "

"I--ah--" began the doctor nervously. But Carmen continued withoutheeding the interruption:

"Only yesterday Professor Bales, of the University, lectured here on'The Prime Function of Education. ' He said it was the development ofthe individual, and that the chief end of educational work was thepromotion of originality. And yet, when I think along originallines--when I depart from stereotyped formulæ, and state boldly that Iwill not accept any religion, be it Presbyterian, Methodist, or RomanCatholic, that makes a God of spirit the creator of a man of flesh, orthat makes evil as real as good, and therefore necessarily created andrecognized by a God who by very necessity can not know evil--then I amaccused of being a heretic, a free-thinker; and the authorities takesteps to remove me, lest my influence contaminate the rest of thepupils!"

"H'm--ah--yes, quite so--that is--I think--"

"Do you, a preacher, think?" the girl went on hurriedly. "Or do youonly _think_ that you think? Do you still believe with the world thatthe passing of a stream of human thought, or a series of mentalpictures, through your mentality constitutes _real_ thinking? Do youbelieve that jumping from one human mental concept to anothertwenty-four hours a day constitutes thinking? Have you yet learned todistinguish between God's thoughts and their opposites, humanthoughts? Do you know what Jesus taught? Have you a real, working, demonstrable knowledge of Christianity? Do you heal the sick, raisethe dead, and preach the truth that sets men free from the mesmerismof evil? If so, then you are unevangelical, too, and you and I areboth heretics, and we'd better--we'd better leave this building atonce, for I find that the Inquisition is still alive, even inAmerica!"

She stopped, and caught her breath. Her face was flushed, and herwhole body quivered with emotion. 

"The Inquisition! Why, my dear young lady, this is a Christiannation!"

"Then, " said the girl, "you have still much to learn from the pagannations that have gone before. "

"Bless my soul!" exclaimed the doctor, again adjusting his glassesthat he might see her more clearly. "My dear child, you have beenthinking too much, and too seriously. "

"No, Doctor, " she replied; "but you preachers have not been thinkingenough, nor even half seriously. Oh, " she went on, while her eyes grewmoist, and ever and again her throat filled, "I had expected so muchin this great country! And I have found so little--so little that isnot wholly material, mechanical, and unreal! I had imagined that, withall your learning and progress, which Padre Josè told me about, youwould know God much better than we in the darkened South. But your godis matter, machinery, business, gold, and the unreal things that canbe bought with money. Some one wrote, in a recent newspaper, thatAmerica's god was 'mud and mammon!' What do I find the girls here inthis school talking about but dress, and society, and the unreal, passing pleasures of the physical senses! Do they know God? No--norwant to! Nor do the preachers! There are religious services here everySunday, and sermons by preachers who come down from the city. Sometimes a Baptist; sometimes a Presbyterian; and sometimes anEpiscopalian, or a Methodist. What is the result? Confusion--religiousconfusion. Each has a different concept of God; yet they all believeHim the creator of a man of flesh and bones, a man who was originallymade perfect, but who fell, and was then cursed by the good andperfect God who made him. Oh, what childish views for men to hold andpreach! How could a good God create anything that could fall? And ifHe could, and did, then He knew in advance that the man would fall, and so God becomes responsible, not man. Oh, Doctor, is it possiblethat you believe such stuff? How can you! how can you! Is it anywonder that, holding such awful views, you preachers have no longerthe power to heal the sick? Do you not know that, in order to heal thesick, one must become spiritually-minded? But no one who holds to thepuerile material beliefs embraced in your orthodox theology canpossibly be spiritual enough to do the works Jesus said we should alldo if we followed him--really understood him. "

"My dear child--you really are quite inconsistent--you--"

"Inconsistent! What a charge for an orthodox preacher to bring! Let ussee: You say that the Scriptures teach that God made man in His imageand likeness--the image and likeness of spirit. Very well. Spirit, God, is eternal, immortal. Then while He exists can His image fadeaway, or die? Can or would God cause it to do so? Can or would Hedestroy His own reflection? And could that image, always being likeHim, ever change, or manifest sin, or disease, or evil, unless Godfirst manifested these things? And if God did manifest them, then, perforce, the image would _have_ to do likewise. But, in that case, could God justly punish His image for faithfully reflecting itsoriginal? Consistent! Oh, it is you preachers, lacking sufficientspirituality to correctly interpret the Scriptures, who are wildly, childishly, ignorantly inconsistent!"

Carmen rose and faced the clergyman. "I did not mean to condemnyou, Doctor, " she said earnestly. "I wage no warfare with personsor things. My opposition is directed only against the entrenched humanthought that makes men spiritually blind and holds them in themesmeric chains of evil. I am young, as you reckon years, but Ihave had much experience in the realm of thought--and it is therethat all experience is wrought out before it becomes externalized. I have told you, my teacher was God. He used as a channel a priest, who came years ago to my little home town of Simití, in far-offColombia. His life had been wrecked by holding to the belief ofevil as a power, real and intelligent. He began to see the light; buthe did not overcome fear sufficiently to make his demonstration andbreak the imaginary bonds which held him. He saw, but he did notprove. He will, some day. And, Doctor, you and everybody else willhave to do the same. For, unless Jesus uttered the most maliciousfalsehoods ever voiced, every human being will have to take everystep that he took, make every demonstration that he made, and proveall that he proved, before mortals will cease to consume withdisease, perish miserably in accidents, and sink with broken livesinto graves that do _not_ afford a gateway to immortal life! My God isinfinite, eternal, unchanging mind. The god of the preachers, judging from their sermons preached here, is a human, mentalconcept, embodying spirit and matter, knowing good and evil, andchanging with every caprice of their own unstable mentalities. Myreligion is the Christianity of the Master, love. Oh, how this poorworld needs it, yearns for it! The love that demonstrates thenothingness of evil, and drives it out of human experience! The lovethat heals the sick, raises the dead, binds up broken hearts! Thelove that will not quench the religious instincts of children, andfalsely educate them to know all manner of evil; but that teachesthem to recognize it for what it is, the lie about God, and thenshows them how to overcome it, even as Jesus did. My God is truth. Is truth real? Ah, yes, you say. But error is the opposite of truth. Then can error, evil, be real? No, not if you will be consistent. Again, God is infinite. But God is spirit. Then all is spirit andspirit's manifestation--is it not true? What, then, becomes of theevil that men hug to their bosoms, even while it gnaws into theirhearts? It is the opposite of good, of mind, of truth, God. Andthe opposite of truth is supposition. Is it not so? And thesupposition is--where? In your mentality. And you can put it outwhenever you are willing to drop your ceremonials and your theories, and will open your mentality to truth, which will make you free, even as the Master said. That is my religion, Doctor. Those arethe religious views which you have been sent by Madam Elwin toinvestigate. Am I a heretic? Or unevangelical?"

She waited a few moments for the doctor to reply. Then, as he remainedsilent, she went up to him and held out her hand. 

"You do not care to talk with me longer, I think, " she said. "Perhapswe may meet again. But, as regards Madam Elwin's wishes, you may tellher that I shall leave the school. "

"Have you--have you been fitting yourself for any--ah--particularwork--ah--for your support, that is?" inquired the doctor gravely, ashe took the proffered hand. He had been swept off his feet by thegirl's conversation, and he had not the temerity to combat her views. 

"Yes, " replied Carmen. "I have been working daily to gain a betterunderstanding of the teachings of Jesus, and through them, of God. Mysingle aim has been to acquire 'that mind which was in Christ Jesus. 'And I have no other business than to reflect it to my fellow-men in alife of service. That is my Father's business, and I am working withHim. My mission in this world is to manifest God. I am going out nowto do that, and _to show what love will do_. God will use me, and Hewill supply my every need. And now, good-bye. "

She turned abruptly from him and went to the organ. Soon the same songwhich he had heard as he entered the room rose again through thestillness. A strong emotion seemed to possess him. He started towardthe girl; checked himself; and stood hesitating. Then his lips set, and he turned and walked slowly from the room. 

In the hall two women were approaching, and as they drew near herecognized one of them. 

"Why, " he exclaimed with enthusiasm, holding out both hands, "my dearMrs. Hawley-Crowles! It is not so long since we met at the Weston's. But what, may I ask, brings you here?"

"This is my sister, Mrs. Charles Reed, Doctor Jurges. We have come to, make a duty call on Mr. Reed's protégée, the little South Americansavage, you know. Madam Elwin said she was up here with you?"

"Ah, yes, quite so--er, in the chapel, I believe, " said the clergyman, his face becoming suddenly grave. "I would return with you, but mytime is--ah--so limited. " He bowed low, with his hand in the breast ofhis long frock coat, and passed on down the hall. 

As the women approached the door of the chapel through which cameCarmen's low singing they turned and looked at each other inquiringly. Then they quietly entered the doorway and stood listening. Carmen, concealed behind the organ, did not see them. 

The song stopped, and Mrs. Hawley-Crowles went quickly to the organ. Bending over it, she gazed down into the face of the startled girl. "My goodness!" she exclaimed. "Get up and let me see what sort of alooking creature you are. "

Carmen rose, and Mrs. Reed came forward and gave her a temperedgreeting. Then Mrs. Hawley-Crowles fell back and stared at the girlfrom head to foot. "You know, " she said to her sister, "this is thefirst glimpse I've had of your husband's discovery. I was out of thecity when he brought her to my house, you remember. But, " turningagain to Carmen, "sing that song over, dear, please--the one you weresinging just now. "

Carmen seated herself again at the organ, and Mrs. Hawley-Crowles drewher sister to the rear of the room. "It will sound better back here, "she explained. 

After the lapse of a few minutes she turned to Mrs. Reed. "Belle, " shesaid, nodding her head sententiously, "you had a pearl, and you threwit away. That girl there is our social fortune! Her voice, and herface--why, with our ward--this beautiful, gifted, South American ownerof a famous mine--as a lever, we can force the Beaubien to bring theAmes to our terms! She goes back with us to-night! You've beenblind!"

Meantime, the dainty Madam Elwin and the amiable Doctor Jurges in theoffice below had reached a conclusion. "A young lady of--ah--invinciblewill, " the doctor had observed; "and already--ah--decidedly mature, despite her tender years. Should she--ah--assume leadership over thepupils of your school, my dear Madam Elwin, the result might bedisquieting. There can be no question as to her religious views, as Ihave said. But, what astonishes me is--ah--that this strange cultshould have its devotees even in the wilds of tropical America!Astonishing--and so unfortunate! The girl is utterly--ah--unevangelical, Madam; and the advisability of removing her from the school can not bequestioned. Do you not agree with me, Mr. Ketchim?"

"By all means, " asserted the latter gentleman with great seriousness, while his eyes dwelt tenderly upon Madam Elwin's written order for ahundred shares of Simití stock which he held in his hand. 

"Very well, then, " said the lady with a determined nod of her head; "Ishall request Mrs. Reed to take her to-day. " Then, with a proper senseof what it meant to have the moral support of such an eminent divineas Doctor Jurges, she rang for her maid and bade her summon Mrs. Reedand the girl. 

Thus it was that Carmen was again shifted a space on the checkerboardof life, and slept that night once more under the spacious roof of thewealthy relict of the late James Hawley-Crowles, on Riverside Drive. 

CHAPTER 7

As has been said, Carmen's six months in the Elwin school had been aperiod of slow adjustment to the changed order. She had brought intothis new world a charm of unsophistication, an ingenuous _naïveté_, such as only an untrammeled spirit nourished in an elementalcivilization like that of primitive Simití could develop. Added tothis was the zest and eagerness stimulated by the thought that she hadcome as a message-bearer to a people with a great need. Her firstemotion had been that of astonishment that the dwellers in the greatStates were not so different, after all, from those of her ownunprogressive country. Her next was one of sad disillusionment, as thefact slowly dawned upon her trusting thought that the busy denizens ofher new environment took no interest whatsoever in her message. Andthen her joy and brilliant hopefulness had chilled, and she awoke tofind her strange views a barrier between herself and her associates. She had brought to the America of the North a spirit so deeplyreligious as to know naught else than her God and His ceaselessmanifestation. She had come utterly free of dogma or creed, andhappily ignorant of decaying formularies and religious caste. HerChristianity was her demonstrable interpretation of the Master'swords; and her fresh, ebulliant spirit soared unhampered in the warmatmosphere of love for mankind. Her concept of the Christ stirred nothought within her of intolerance toward those who might holddiffering views; nor did it raise interposing barriers within her ownmind, nor evoke those baser sentiments which have so sadly warped thesouls of men into instruments of deadly hatred and crushing tyranny. Her spiritual vision, undimmed and world-embracing, saw the advent ofthat day when all mankind would obey the commands of Jesus, and do theworks which he did, even to the complete spiritualization anddematerializing of all human thought. And her burning desire was tohasten the coming of that glad hour. 

The conviction that, despite its tremendous needs, humanity wassteadily rejecting, even in this great land of opportunity andprogress, the remedy for its consuming ills, came to her slowly. Andwith it a damping of her ardor, and a dulling of the fine edge of herenthusiasm. She grew quiet as the days passed, and drew away from hercompanions into her thought. With her increasing sense of isolationcame at length a great longing to leave these inhospitable shores, andreturn to her native environment and the sympathy and tendersolicitude of her beloved Rosendo and Padre Josè. But, alas! that wasat present impossible. Indeed, she could not be certain now of theirwhereabouts. A great war was raging in Colombia, and she knew not whatfate had befallen her loved ones. To her many letters directed toSimití there had come back no reply. Even Harris, who had writtenagain and again to both Rosendo and Josè, had received no word fromthem in return. Corroding fear began to assail the girl; soul-longingand heart-sickness seized upon her; her happy smile faded; and herbright, bubbling conversation ceased. 

Then one day, standing alone in her room, she turned squarely upon thefoul brood of evil suggestions crowding upon her and, as if they werefell spirits from the nether world, bade them begone. "Listen!" shecried aloud. "I know you for what you are--_nothing_! You seemed touse Padre Josè, but you can't use me! God is everywhere--right here!He is my life; and you, evil thoughts, can't make me think He isn't! Iam His image and likeness; I am His witness; and I will _not_ witnessto His opposite, evil! My life is filled with harmony; and you, evilthoughts, can't reverse that fact! God has brought me here, else Iwould not have come, for He is the cause of all that is. It is for meto stand and see His glory. No! no!" as she paced about the room andseemed to ward off the assaults of an invisible enemy, "there is nopower apart from Him! On that I stand!"

Then, in the lull of battle, "Father divine, I thank Thee that Thouhast heard me. And now I lay my all upon the altar of love, and throwmyself upon Thy thought. "

From that day, despite continued attacks from error--despite, too, theveiled slights and covert insinuations of her schoolmates, to whom thegirl's odd views and utter refusal to share their accustomedconversation, their interest in mundane affairs, their socialaspirations and worldly ambitions, at length made her quiteunwelcome--Carmen steadily, and without heed of diverting gesture, brought into captivity every thought to the obedience of herChrist-principle, and threw off for all time the dark cloud ofpessimism which human belief and the mesmerism of events had drawnover her joyous spirit. 

Mrs. Reed had not been near her since her enrollment in the school;but Ketchim had visited her often--not, however, alone, but alwayswith one or more prospective purchasers of Simití stock in tow whomhe sought to influence favorably through Carmen's interestingconversation about her native land. Harris came every Sunday, andthe girl welcomed the great, blundering fellow as the coming of theday. At times he would obtain Madam Elwin's permission to take thegirl up to the city on a little sight-seeing expedition, and then hewould abandon himself completely to the enjoyment of her naïve wonderand the numberless and often piquant questions stimulated by it. Hewas the only one now with whom she felt any degree of freedom, andin his presence her restraint vanished and her airy gaiety againwelled forth with all its wonted fervor. Once, shortly after Carmenhad been enrolled, Harris took her to a concert by the New YorkSymphony Orchestra. But in the midst of the program, after sittingin silent rapture, the girl suddenly burst into tears and begged to betaken out. "I couldn't stand it!" she sobbed as, outside the door, she hid her tear-stained face in his coat; "I just couldn't! Itwas heavenly! Oh, it was God that we heard--it was God!" And theastonished fellow respected this sudden outburst of pent-up emotionas he led her, silent and absorbed, back to the school. 

With the throwing of the girl upon her own thought came a rapidexpansion of both mind and body into maturity, and the young lady wholeft the Elwin school that bright spring afternoon under theprotection of the self-sufficient Mrs. Hawley-Crowles was very farfrom being the inquisitive, unabashed little girl who had sogreatly shocked the good Sister Superior by her heretical viewssome six months before. The sophistication engendered by herintercourse with the pupils and instructors in the school hadtransformed the eager, trusting little maid, who could see only goodinto a mature woman, who, though her trust remained unshaken, nevertheless had a better understanding of the seeming power "thatlusteth against the spirit, " and whose idea of her mission had beendeepened into a grave sense of responsibility. She saw now, as neverbefore, the awful unreality of the human sense of life; but shelikewise understood, as never previously, its seeming reality inthe human consciousness, and its terrible mesmeric power overthose materialistic minds into which the light of spirituality had asyet scarcely penetrated. Her thought had begun to shape a definitepurpose; she was still to be a message-bearer, but the message must beset forth in her life conduct. The futility of promiscuous verbaldelivery of the message to whomsoever might cross her path hadbeen made patent. Jesus taught--and then proved. She must dolikewise, and let her deeds attest the truth of her words. And fromthe day that she bade the suggestions of fear and evil leave her, she had consecrated herself anew to a searching study of theMaster's life and words, if happily she might acquire "that mind"which he so wondrously expressed. 

But the assumption of an attitude of quiet demonstration was by nomeans sudden. There were times when she could not restrain the impulseto challenge the beliefs so authoritatively set forth by the preachersand lecturers whom Madam Elwin invited to address her pupils, and who, unlike Jesus, first taught, and then relegated their proofs to a lifebeyond the grave. Once, shortly after entering the school, forgetfulof all but the error being preached, she had risen in the midst of aneloquent sermon by the eminent Darius Borwell, a Presbyterian divineof considerable repute, and asked him why it was that, as he seemed toset forth, God had changed His mind after creating spiritual man, andhad created a man of dust. She had later repented her scandalousconduct in sackcloth and ashes; but it did not prevent her fromabruptly leaving the chapel on a subsequent Sunday when anotherdivine, this time a complaisant Methodist, quite satisfied with histheories of endless future rewards and fiery punishments, dwelt atlength upon the traditional idea that the sorrows of the world areGod-sent for mankind's chastisement and discipline. 

Then she gradually learned to be less defiant of the conventions andbeliefs of the day, and determined quietly to rise superior to them. But her experience with the preachers wrought within her a strongdetermination henceforth to listen to no religious propagandawhatsoever, to give no further heed to current theological beliefs, and to enter no church edifice, regardless of the tenets of the sectworshiping within its precincts. The wisdom of this decision she leftfor the future to determine. 

"Oh, " she cried, "my only mission is to manifest the divine, not towaste time listening to the theories of ignorant preachers, who failutterly to prove the truth of their teachings! Oh, how the world needslove--just love! And I am going to love it with the selfless love thatcomes from God, and destroys error and the false beliefs that becomeexternalized in the human consciousness as sickness, failure, oldage, and death! Love, love, love--it is mankind's greatest need! Why, if the preachers only knew, the very heart and soul of Christianity islove! It is love that casts out fear; and fear is at the bottom of allsickness, for fear leads to belief in other gods than the one Fatherof Christ Jesus! Christianity is aflame with love! Oh, God--take meout into the world, and let me show it what love can do!"

And the divine ear heard the call of this beautiful disciple of theChrist--aye, had heard it long before the solicitous, flutteringlittle Madam Elwin decided that the strange girl's unevangelical viewswere inimical to the best interests of her very select school. Thesocial ambitions of the wealthy Mrs. Hawley-Crowles threw wide theportals of the world to Carmen, and she entered, wide-eyed andwondering. Nor did she return until the deepest recesses of the humanmind had revealed to her their abysmal hideousness, their ghastlyemptiness of reality, and their woeful mesmeric deception. 

CHAPTER 8

Mrs. James Hawley-Crowles, more keenly perceptive than her sister, hadseized upon Carmen with avidity bred of hope long deferred. Thescourge of years of fruitless social striving had rendered herdesperate, and she would have staged a ballet on her dining table, with her own ample self as _première danseuse_, did the attraction butpromise recognition from the blasé members of fashionable New York'sultra-conservative set. From childhood she had looked eagerly forwardthrough the years with an eye single to such recognition as life'sdesideratum. To this end she had bartered both youth and beauty withcalculated precision for the Hawley-Crowles money bags; only to weepfloods of angry tears when the bargain left her social statusunchanged, and herself tied to a decrepit old rounder, whose tarnishedname wholly neutralized the purchasing power of his ill-gotten gold. Fortunately for the reputations of them both, her husband had the goodsense to depart this life ere the divorce proceedings which she hadlong had in contemplation were instituted; whereupon the strickenwidow had him carefully incinerated and his ashes tenderly depositedin a chaste urn in a mausoleum which her architect had taken oath costmore than the showy Ames vault by many thousands. The period ofdecorous mourning past, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles blithely doffed her weedsand threw herself again into the terrific competition for socialstanding, determined this time that it should be a warfare to thedeath. 

And so it bade fair to prove to her, when the eminent nervespecialist, Dr. Bascom Ross, giving a scant half hour to theconsideration of her case, at the modest charge of one hundreddollars, warned her to declare a truce and flee to the Alps forunalloyed rest. She complied, and had returned with restored healthand determination just as her sister came up from South America, bringing the odd little "savage" whom Reed had discovered in the wildsof Guamocó. A prolonged week-end at Newport, the last of the summerseason, accounted for her absence from the city when Reed broughtCarmen to her house, where he and his wife were making their temporaryabode. Six months later, in her swift appraisal of the girl in theElwin school, to whom she had never before given a thought, she seemedto see a light. 

"It does look like a desperate chance, I admit, " she said, whenrecounting her plans to her sister a day or so later. "But I've playedevery other card in my hand; and now this girl is going to be either atrump or a joker. All we need is a word from the Beaubien, and thefollowing week will see an invitation at our door from Mrs. J. WiltonAmes. The trick is to reach the Beaubien. That I calculate to dothrough Carmen. And I'm going to introduce the girl as an Incaprincess. Why not? It will make a tremendous hit. "

Mrs. Reed was not less ambitious than her sister, but hitherto she hadlacked the one essential to social success, money. In addition, shehad committed the egregious blunder of marrying for love. And now thatthe honeymoon had become a memory, and she faced again her growingambition, with a struggling husband who had neither name nor wealth toaid her, she had found her own modest income of ten thousand a year, which she had inherited from her mother, only an aggravation. True, intime her wandering father would pass away; and there was no doubt thathis vast property would fall to his daughters, his only living kin. But at present, in view of his aggressively good health and disregardfor his relatives, her only recourse was to attach herself to herwealthy, sharp-witted sister, and hope to be towed safely into thesocial swim, should that scheming lady ultimately achieve her highambition. 

Just why Mrs. Hawley-Crowles should have seen in Carmen a means ofreaching a woman of the stamp of the Beaubien, and through her theleader of the most exclusive social set in the metropolis, isdifficult to say. But thus does the human mind often seek to furtherits own dubious aims through guileless innocence and trust. PerhapsMrs. Hawley-Crowles had likewise a slight trace of that clairvoyanceof wisdom which so characterized the girl. But with this difference, that she knew not why she was led to adopt certain means; whileCarmen, penetrating externals, consciously sought to turn those whowould employ her into channels for the expression of her own dominantthought. Be that as it may, the Beaubien was now the stone before thedoor of their hope, and Carmen the lever by which these calculatingwomen intended it should be moved. 

"The Beaubien, my dear, " explained Mrs. Hawley-Crowles to herinquisitive sister, whose life had been lived almost entirely awayfrom New York, "is J. Wilton Ames's very particular friend, of longstanding. As I told you, I have recently been going through my lateunpleasant husband's effects, and have unearthed letters and memorandawhich throw floods of light upon Jim's early indiscretions and hisassociation with both the Beaubien and Ames. Jim once told me, in aburst of alcoholic confidence, that she had saved him from J. Wilton'sclutches in the dim past, and for that he owed her endless gratitude, as well as for never permitting him to darken her door again. Now Ihave never met the Beaubien. Few women have. But I dare say she knowsall about us. However, the point that concerns us now is this: she hasa hold on Ames, and, unless rumor is wide of the truth, when she hintsto him that his wife's dinner list or yachting party seems incompletewithout such or such a name, why, the list is immediately revised. "

The position which the Beaubien held was, if Madam On-dit was not tobe wholly discredited, to say the least, unique. It was not as socialdictator that she posed, for in a great cosmopolitan city where politesociety is infinitely complex in its make-up such a position canscarcely be said to exist. It was rather as an influence that she wasfelt, an influence never seen, but powerful, subtle, and whollyinexplicable, working now through this channel, now through that, andeffecting changes in the social complexion of conservative New Yorkthat were utterly in defiance of the most rigid convention. Particularly was her power felt in the narrow circle over which Mrs. J. Wilton Ames presided, by reason of her own and her husband'saristocratic descent, and the latter's bursting coffers and supremacyin the realm of finance. 

Only for her sagacity, the great influence of the woman would havebeen short-lived. But, whatever else might be said of her, theBeaubien was wise, with a discretion that was positively uncanny. Tall, voluptuous, yet graceful as a fawn; black, wavy, abundant hair;eyes whose dark, liquid depths held unfathomable mysteries; gracious, affable, yet keen as a razor blade; tender, even sentimental onoccasions, with an infinite capacity for either love or hate, thismany-sided woman, whose brilliant flashes of wit kept the savant orroué at her table in an uproar, could, if occasion required, found anorphanage or drop a bichloride tablet in the glass of her rival withthe same measure of calculating precision and disdain of the future. It was said of her that she might have laid down her life for the manshe loved. It is probable that she never met with one worth thesacrifice. 

While yet in short dresses she had fled from her boarding school, neara fashionable resort in the New Hampshire hills, with a FrenchColonel, Gaspard de Beaubien, a man twice her age. With him she hadspent eight increasingly miserable years in Paris. Then, her witheredromance carefully entombed in the secret places of her heart, shesecured a divorce from the roistering colonel, together with a smallsettlement, and set sail for New York to hunt for larger and morevaluable game. 

With abundant charms and sang-froid for her capital, she rented anexpensive apartment in a fashionable quarter of the city, and thensettled down to business. Whether she would have fallen upon bad daysor not will never be known, for the first haul of her widespread netlanded a fish of supreme quality, J. Wilton Ames. On the plea offinancial necessity, she had gone boldly to his office with the deedto a parcel of worthless land out on the moist sands of the New Jerseyshore, which the unscrupulous Gaspard de Beaubien had settled upon herwhen she severed the tie which bound them, and which, after weeks ofcareful research, she discovered adjoined a tract owned by Ames. Pushing aside office boy, clerk, and guard, she reached the inner_sanctum_ of the astonished financier himself and offered to sell at aruinous figure. A few well-timed tears, an expression of angelicinnocence on her beautiful face, a despairing gesture or two with herlovely arms, coupled with the audacity which she had shown in forcingan entrance into his office, effected the man's capitulation. She wasthen in her twenty-fourth year. 

The result was that she cast her net no more, but devoted herselfthenceforth with tender consecration to her important catch. In timeAmes brought a friend, the rollicking James Hawley-Crowles, to callupon the charming Beaubien. In time, too, as was perfectly natural, arivalry sprang up between the men, which the beautiful creaturewatered so tenderly that the investments which she was enabled to makeunder the direction of these powerful rivals flourished like Jack'sbeanstalk, and she was soon able to leave her small apartment and takea suite but a few blocks from the Ames mansion. 

At length the strain between Ames and Hawley-Crowles reached thebreaking point; and then the former decided that the woman'sbewitching smiles should thenceforth be his alone. He forthwith drewthe seldom sober Hawley-Crowles into certain business deals, with thegentle connivance of the suave Beaubien herself, and at length soldthe man out short and presented a claim on every dollar he possessed. Hawley-Crowles awoke from his blissful dream sober and trimmed. Butthen the Beaubien experienced one of her rare and inexplicablerevulsions of the ethical sense, and a compromise had to be effected, whereby the Hawley-Crowles fortune was saved, though the man shouldsee the Beaubien no more. 

By this time her beauty was blooming in its utmost profusion, and herprowess had been fairly tried. She took a large house, furnished itlike unto a palace, and proceeded to throw her gauntlet in the face ofthe impregnable social caste. There she drew about her a circle ofbon-vivants, artists, littérateurs, politicians, and men offinance--with never a woman in the group. Yet in her new home sheestablished a social code as rigid as the Median law, and woe to himwithin her gates who thereafter, with or without intent, passed thebounds of respectful decorum. His name was heard no more on her rosylips. 

Her dinners were Lucullan in their magnificence; and over the rarewines and imperial cigars which she furnished, her guests passed manya tip and prognostication anent the market, which she in turn quietlytransmitted to her brokers. She came to understand the gamethoroughly, and, while it was her heyday of glorious splendor, sheplayed hard. She had bartered every priceless gift of nature forgold--and she made sure that the measure she received in return wasfull. Her gaze was ever upon the approaching day when those charmswould be but bitter memories; and it was her grim intention that whenit came silken ease should compensate for their loss. 

Ten years passed, and the Beaubien's reign continued with undimmedsplendor. In the meantime, the wife of J. Wilton Ames had reached thezenith of her ambitions and was the acknowledged leader in New York'smost fashionable social circle. These two women never met. But, thoughthe Beaubien had never sought the entrée to formal society, preferringto hold her own court, at which no women attended, she exercised acertain control over it through her influence upon the man Ames. WhatMrs. Ames knew of the long-continued relations between her husband andthis woman was never divulged. And doubtless she was wholly satisfiedthat his wealth and power afforded her the position which her hearthad craved; and, that secure, she was willing to leave him to his ownmethods of obtaining diversion. But rumor was persistent, maliciouslyso; and rumor declared that the list of this envied society dame wasnot drawn up without the approval of her husband and the woman withwhom his leisure hours were invariably spent. Hence the hope of Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, whose doting mate had once fawned in the perfumed wakeof the luxurious Beaubien. 

Carmen, whose wishes had not been consulted, had voiced no objectionwhatever to returning to the Hawley-Crowles home. Indeed, she secretlyrejoiced that an opportunity had been so easily afforded for escapefrom the stifling atmosphere of the Elwin school, and for entranceinto the great world of people and affairs, where she believed thesoil prepared for the seed she would plant. That dire surprisesawaited her, of which she could not even dream, did not enter hercalculations. Secure in her quenchless faith, she gladly accepted theproffered shelter of the Hawley-Crowles mansion, and the protection ofits worldly, scheming inmates. 

In silent, wide-eyed wonder, in the days that followed, the girlstrove to accustom herself to the luxury of her surroundings, and tothe undreamed of marvels which made for physical comfort andwell-being. Each installment of the ample allowance which Mrs. Hawley-Crowles settled upon her seemed a fortune--enough, she thought, to buy the whole town of Simití! Her gowns seemed woven on fairylooms, and often she would sit for hours, holding them in her lap andreveling in their richness. Then, when at length she could bringherself to don the robes and peep timidly into the great pier glasses, she would burst into startled exclamations and hide her face in herhands, lest the gorgeous splendor of the beautiful reflectionoverpower her. 

"Oh, " she would exclaim, "it can't be that the girl reflected thereever lived and dressed as I did in Simití! I wonder, oh, I wonder ifPadre Josè knew that these things were in the world!"

And then, as she leaned back in her chair and gave herself into thehands of the admiring French maid, she would close her eyes and dreamthat the fairy-stories which the patient Josè had told her again andagain in her distant home town had come true, and that she had beentransformed into a beautiful princess, who would some day go in searchof the sleeping priest and wake him from his mesmeric dream. 

Then would come the inevitable thought of the little newsboy ofCartagena, to whom she had long since begun to send monetarycontributions--and of her unanswered letters--of the war devastatingher native land--of rudely severed ties, and unimaginable changes--andshe would start from her musing and brush away the gathering tears, and try to realize that her present situation and environment were butmeans to an end, opportunities which her God had given her to do Hiswork, with no thought of herself. 

A few days after Carmen had been installed in her new home, duringwhich she had left the house only for her diurnal ride in the biglimousine, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles announced her readiness to fire thefirst gun in the attack upon the Beaubien. "My dear, " she said to hersister, as they sat alone in the luxurious sun-parlor, "my washerwomandropped a remark the other day which gave me something to build on. Her two babies are in the General Orphan Asylum, up on Twenty-thirdstreet. Well, it happens that this institution is the Beaubien's solecharity--in fact, it is her particular hobby. I presume that she feelsshe is now a middle-aged woman, and that the time is not far distantwhen she will have to close up her earthly accounts and hand them overto the heavenly auditor. Anyway, this last year or two she hassuddenly become philanthropic, and when the General Orphan Asylum wasbuilding she gave some fifty thousand dollars for a cottage in hername. What's more, the trustees of the Asylum accepted it without thewink of an eyelash. Funny, isn't it?

"But here's the point: some rich old fellow has willed the institutiona fund whose income every year is used to buy clothing for thekiddies; and they have a sort of celebration on the day the duds aregiven out, and the public is invited to inspect the place and theinmates, and eat a bit, and look around generally. Well, mywasherwoman tells me that the Beaubien always attends these annualcelebrations. The next one, I learn, comes in about a month. I proposethat we attend; take Carmen; ask permission for her to sing to thechildren, and thereby attract the attention of the gorgeous Beaubien, who will be sure to speak to the girl, who is herself an orphan, and, ten to one, want to see more of her. The rest is easy. I'll have aword to say regarding our immense debt of gratitude to her for savingJim's fortune years ago when he was entangled in her net--and, well, if that scheme doesn't work, I have other strings to my bow. "

But it did work, and with an ease that exceeded the most sanguinehopes of its projector. On the day that the General Orphan Asylumthrew wide its doors to the public, the Hawley-Crowles limousinerubbed noses with the big French car of the Beaubien in the streetwithout; while within the building the Beaubien held the hand of thebeautiful girl whose voluntary singing had spread a veil of silenceover the awed spectators in the great assembly room, and, lookingearnestly down into the big, trusting, brown eyes, said: "My dearchild, I want to know you. " Then, turning to the eager, itching Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, "I shall send my car for her to-morrow afternoon, withyour permission. "

With her permission! Heavens! Mrs. Hawley-Crowles wildly hugged hersister and the girl all the way home--then went to bed that night withtears of apprehension in her washed-out eyes, lest she had shownherself too eager in granting the Beaubien's request. But her fearswere turned to exultation when the Beaubien car drew up at her doorthe following day at three, and the courteous French chauffeurannounced his errand. A few moments later, while the car glidedpurring over the smooth asphalt, Carmen, robed like a princess, layback in the cushions and dreamed of the poor priest in the dead littletown so far away. 

CHAPTER 9

"Sing it again, dear. I know you are tired, but I want to hear thatsong just once more. Somehow it seems to bring up thoughts of--ofthings that might have been. " The Beaubien's voice sank to a whisperas she finished. 

Carmen laughed happily and prepared to repeat the weird lament whichhad so fascinated the Reverend Doctor Jurges a few days before. 

"I--I don't know why that song affects me so, " mused the Beaubien, when the girl had finished and returned to the seat beside her. Then, abruptly: "I wish you could play the pipe-organ out in the hall. I puttwelve thousand dollars into it, and I can't even play five-fingerexercises on it. "

"Twelve thousand dollars!" exclaimed Carmen, drawing a long breath, while her eyes dilated. 

The woman laughed. "Would that buy your beloved Simití?" she asked. "Well, you poor, unsophisticated girl, suppose we just go down thereand buy the whole town. It would at least give me an interest in life. Do you think I could stand the heat there? But tell me more about it. How did you live, and what did you do? And who is this Josè? And areyou really descended from the old Incas?"

They were alone in the darkened music room, and the soft-stepping, liveried butler had just set the tea table before them, At one end ofthe long room a cheery fire snapped and crackled in the hugefireplace, tempering the sharpness of the early spring day and castinga ruddy glow upon the tapestried walls and polished floor in front, where dozed the Beaubien's two "babies, " Japanese and Pekingesespaniels of registered pedigree and fabulous value. Among the heavybeams of the lofty ceiling grotesque shadows danced and flickered, while over the costly rugs and rare skins on the floor below subduedlights played in animated pantomime. Behind the magnificent grandpiano a beautifully wrought harp reflected a golden radiance into theroom. Everything in the woman's environment was softened into the samedegree of voluptuousness which characterized her and the life ofsybaritic ease which she affected. 

From the moment Carmen entered the house she had been charmed, fascinated, overpowered by the display of exhaustless wealth andthe rich taste exhibited in its harmonious manifestation. TheHawley-Crowles home had seemed to her the epitome of materialelegance and comfort, far exceeding the most fantastic concepts of herchildish imagination, when she had listened enraptured to PadreJosè's compelling stories of the great world beyond Simití. But thegorgeous web of this social spider made even the Hawley-Crowlesmansion suffer in comparison. 

"And yet, " said the amused Beaubien, when Carmen could no longerrestrain her wonder and admiration, "this is but a shed beside the newAmes house, going up on Fifth Avenue. I presume he will put not lessthan ten millions into it before it is finished. "

"Ten millions! In just a house!" Carmen dared not attempt to grasp thecomplex significance of such an expenditure. 

"Why, is that such a huge amount, child?" asked the Beaubien, asaccustomed to think in eight figures as in two. "But, I forget thatyou are from the jungle. Yet, who would imagine it?" she mused, gazingwith undisguised admiration at the beautiful, animated girl beforeher. 

Silence then fell upon them both. Carmen was struggling with thedeluge of new impressions; and the woman fastened her eyes upon her asif she would have them bore deep into the soul of whose rarity she wasbecoming slowly aware. What thoughts coursed through the mind of theBeaubien as she sat studying the girl through the tempered light, wemay not know. What she saw in Carmen that attracted her, she herselfmight not have told. Had she, too, this ultra-mondaine, this creatureof gold and tinsel, felt the spell of the girl's great innocence andpurity of thought, her righteousness? Or did she see in her somethingthat she herself might once have been--something that all her gold, and all the wealth of Ormus or of Ind could never buy?

"What have you got, " she suddenly, almost rudely, exclaimed, "that Ihaven't?" And then the banality of the question struck her, and shelaughed harshly. 

"Why, " said Carmen, looking up quickly and beaming upon the woman, "you have everything! Oh, what more could you wish?"

"You, " returned the woman quickly, though she knew not why she saidit. And yet, memory was busy uncovering those bitter days when, in thefirst agony of marital disappointment, she had, with hot, streamingtears, implored heaven to give her a child. But the gift had beendenied; and her heart had shrunk and grown heavily calloused. 

Then she spoke more gently, and there was that in her voice whichstirred the girl's quick sympathy. "Yes, you have youth, and beauty. They are mine no longer. But I could part with them, gladly, if onlythere were anything left. "

Carmen instantly rose and went swiftly to her. Forgetful of caste, decorum, convention, everything but the boundless love which she feltfor all mankind, she put her arms about the worldly woman's neck andkissed her. 

For a moment the Beaubien sat in speechless surprise. It was the onlymanifestation of selfless love that had ever come into her sordidexperience. Was it possible that this was spontaneous? that it was anact of real sympathy, and not a clever ruse to win her from behind themask of affection? Her own kisses, she knew, were bestowed only forfavors. Alas! they drew not many now, although time was when a singleone might win a brooch or a string of pearls. 

The girl herself quickly met the woman's groping thought. "I'm in theworld to show what love will do, " she murmured; "and I love you. " Hadshe not thus solved every problem from earliest childhood?

The Beaubien melted. Not even a heart of stone could withstand thesolvent power of such love. Her head dropped upon her breast, and shewept. 

"Don't cry, " said Carmen, tenderly caressing the bepowdered cheek. "Why, we are all God's children; we all have one another; you have me, and I have you; and God means us all to be happy. "

The Beaubien looked up, wondering. Her variegated life included nosuch tender experience as this. She had long since ceased to shedaught but tears of anger. But now--

She clutched the girl to her and kissed her eagerly; then gentlymotioned her back to her chair. "Don't mind it, " she smiled, withswimming eyes, and a shade of embarrassment. "I don't know of anythingthat would help me as much as a good cry. If I could have had adaughter like you, I should--but never mind now. " She tried to laugh, as she wiped her eyes. 

Then an idea seemed to flash through her jaded brain, and she becamesuddenly animated. "Why--listen, " she said; "don't you want to learnthe pipe-organ? Will you come here and take lessons? I will pay forthem; I will engage the best teacher in New York; and you shall taketwo or three a week, and use the big organ out in the hall. Willyou?"

Carmen's heart gave a great leap. "Oh!" she exclaimed, her eyesdancing. "But I must ask Mrs. Reed, you know. "

"I'll do it myself, " returned the woman with growing enthusiasm. "William, " she directed, when the butler responded to her summons, "get Mrs. Hawley-Crowles on the wire at once. But who is coming, Iwonder?" glancing through the window at an automobile that had drawnup at her door. "Humph!" a look of vexation mantling her face, "theRight Reverend Monsignor Lafelle. Well, " turning to Carmen, "I supposeI'll have to send you home now, dear. But tell Mrs. Hawley-Crowlesthat I shall call for you to-morrow afternoon, and that I shall speakto her at that time about your music lessons. William, take Monsignorinto the morning room, and then tell Henri to bring the car to theporte-cochère for Miss Carmen. Good-bye, dear, " kissing the bright, upturned face of the waiting girl. "I wish I could--but, well, don'tforget that I'm coming for you to-morrow. "

That afternoon Mrs. Hawley-Crowles directed her French tailor to cableto Paris for advance styles. Twenty-four hours later she hastened withoutstretched arms to greet the Beaubien, waiting in the receptionroom. Oh, yes, they had heard often of each other; and now were sopleased to meet! New York was such a whirlpool, and it was sodifficult to form desirable friendships. Yes, the Beaubien had knownthe late-lamented Hawley-Crowles; but, dear! dear! that was years andyears ago, before he had married, and when they were both young andfoolish. And--

"My dear Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, chance enabled him and me to be mutuallyhelpful at a time when I was in sore need of a friend; and the debt ofgratitude is not yours to me, but mine to your kind husband. "

Mrs. Hawley-Crowles could have hugged her on the spot. What cared shethat her husband's always unsavory name had been linked with thiswoman's? She had married the roistering blade for his bank accountonly. Any other male whose wealth ran into seven figures would havedone as well, or better. 

And Carmen? Bless you, no! To be sure, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles gratefullyaccepted the use of the organ and the Beaubien mansion for the girl;but she herself insisted upon bearing the expense of the lessons. Carmen had wonderful musical talent. Together, she and the Beaubien, they would foster and develop it. Moreover, though of course this mustfollow later, she intended to give the girl every social advantagebefitting her beauty, her talents, and her station. 

And then, when the Beaubien, who knew to a second just how long tostay, had departed, taking Carmen with her, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles turnedto her sister with her face flushed with anger. "Did you see that?"she exclaimed, while hot tears suffused her eyes. "The hussy went awayactually laughing at me! What do you suppose she's got up her sleeve?But, let me tell you, she'll not fool me! I'll slap that arrogant Ameswoman yet; and then, when I've done that, I'll give the Beaubiensomething to think about besides the way she did up poor old Jim!"

 * * * * *

There was now but one cloud that cast its dark shadow across the fullsplendor of Carmen's happiness, the silence that shrouded Simití. ButHarris was preparing to return to Colombia, and his trip promised asolution of the mystery of her unanswered letters. For weeks Carmenhad struggled to teach him Spanish, with but small measure of success. The gift of tongues was not his. "You'll have to go back with me andact as interpreter, " he said one day, when they were alone in theHawley-Crowles parlor. Then a curious light came into his eyes, and heblurted, "Will you?"

But the girl turned the question aside with a laugh, though she knewnot from what depths it had sprung. Harris shrugged his broadshoulders and sighed. He had not a hundred dollars to his name. 

Yet he had prospects, not the least of which was the interest heshared with Reed in La Libertad. For, despite the disturbed state ofaffairs in Colombia, Simití stock had sold rapidly, under the sedulouscare of Ketchim and his loyal aids, and a sufficient fund had beenaccumulated to warrant the inauguration of development work on themine. A few years hence Harris should be rich from that source alone. 

Reed was still in California, although the alluring literature whichKetchim was scattering broadcast bore his name as consulting engineerto the Simití Development Company. His wife had continued hertemporary abode in the Hawley-Crowles mansion, while awaiting withwhat fortitude she could command the passing of her still vigorousfather, and the results of her defiant sister's assaults upon the Amesset. 

Carmen's days were crowded full. The wonderful organ in the Beaubienmansion had cast a spell of enchantment over her soul, and daily shesat before it, uncovering new marvels and losing herself deeper anddeeper in its infinite mysteries. Her progress was commensurate withher consecration, and brought exclamations of astonishment to the lipsof her now devoted Beaubien. Hour after hour the latter would sit inthe twilight of the great hall, with her eyes fastened upon theabsorbed girl, and her leaden soul slowly, painfully struggling tolift itself above the murk and dross in which it had lain buried forlong, meaningless years. They now talked but little, this strangewoman and the equally strange girl. Their communion was no longer ofthe lips. It was the silent yearning of a dry, desolate heart, striving to open itself to the love which the girl was sending far andwide in the quenchless hope that it might meet just such a need. ForCarmen dwelt in the spirit, and she instinctively accepted hersplendid material environment as the gift, not of man, but of thegreat divine Mind, which had led her into this new world that shemight be a channel for the expression of its love to the erringchildren of mortals. 

She came and went quietly, and yet with as much confidence as if thehouse belonged to her. At first the Beaubien smiled indulgently. Andthen her smile became a laugh of eager joy as she daily greeted herradiant visitor, whose entrance into the great, dark house was alwaysfollowed by a flood of sunshine, and whose departure marked thesetting in of night to the heart-hungry woman. In the first days oftheir association the Beaubien could turn easily from the beautifulgirl to the group of cold, scheming men of the world who filled herevenings and sat about her board. But as days melted into weeks, shebecame dimly conscious of an effort attaching to the transition; andthe hour at length arrived when she fully realized that she was facingthe most momentous decision that had ever been evolved by her worldlymode of living. But that was a matter of slow development through manymonths. 

Meantime, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles trod the clouds. A week after Carmenbegan the study of the organ she boldly ventured to accompany her oneday to the Beaubien citadel. She was graciously received, and departedwith the Beaubien's promise to return the call. Thereupon she setabout revising her own social list, and dropped several names whichshe now felt could serve her no longer. Her week-end at Newport, justprior to her visit to the Elwin school, had marked the close of thegay season in the city, and New York had entered fully upon its summer_siesta_. Even the theaters and concert halls were closed, and themetropolis was nodding its weary head dully and sinking intosomnolence. It was exactly what Mrs. Hawley-Crowles desired. Thesummer interim would give her time to further her plans and preparethe girl for her social _début_ in the early winter. "And Milady Ameswill be mentioned in the papers next day as assisting at thefunction--the cat!" she muttered savagely, as she laid aside herrevised list of social desirables. 

But in preparing Carmen that summer for her subsequent entry intopolite society Mrs. Hawley-Crowles soon realized that she hadassumed a task of generous proportions. In the first place, despite all efforts, the girl could not be brought to a propersense of money values. Her eyes were ever gaping in astonishment atwhat Mrs. Hawley-Crowles and her sister regarded as the most moderateof expenditures, and it was only when the Beaubien herself mildlyhinted to them that ingenuousness was one of the girl's greatestsocial assets, that they learned to smile indulgently at her wonder, even while inwardly pitying her dense ignorance and lack ofsophistication. 

A second source of trial to her guardians was her delicate sense ofhonor; and it was this that one day nearly sufficed to wreck theirstanding with the fashionable Mrs. Gannette of Riverside Drive, apompous, bepowdered, curled and scented dame, anaemic of mind, buttremendously aristocratic, and of scarcely inferior social dignity tothat of the envied Mrs. Ames. For, when Mrs. Gannette moved into theneighborhood where dwelt the ambitious Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, the latterwas taken by a mutual acquaintance to call upon her, and wasimmediately received into the worldly old lady's good graces. And itso happened that, after the gay season had closed that summer, Mrs. Gannette invited Mrs. Hawley-Crowles and her sister to an informalafternoon of bridge, and especially requested that they bring theiryoung ward, whose beauty and wonderful story were, through thediscreet maneuvers of her guardians, beginning to be talked about. Forsome weeks previously Mrs. Hawley-Crowles had been inducting Carmeninto the mysteries of the game; but with indifferent success, for thegirl's thoughts invariably were elsewhere engaged. On this particularafternoon Carmen was lost in contemplation of the gorgeous dress, thelavish display of jewelry, and the general inanity of conversation;and her score was pitiably low. The following morning, to her greatastonishment, she received a bill from the practical Mrs. Gannette forten dollars to cover her losses at the game. For a long time thebewildered girl mused over it. Then she called the chauffeur anddespatched him to the Gannette mansion with the money necessary tomeet the gambling debt, and three dollars additional to pay for therefreshments she had eaten, accompanying it with a polite little noteof explanation. 

The result was an explosion that nearly lifted the asphalt from theDrive; and Carmen, covered with tears and confusion, was given tounderstand by the irate Mrs. Hawley-Crowles that her conduct was asreprehensible as if she had attacked the eminent Mrs. Gannette with anaxe. Whereupon the sorrowing Carmen packed her effects and prepared todepart from the presence of Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, to the terrifiedconsternation of the latter, who alternately prostrated herself beforethe girl and the offended Mrs. Gannette, and at length, after manydays of perspiring effort and voluminous explanation, succeeded inrestoring peace. 

When the Beaubien, who had become the girl's confidante, learned thestory, she laughed till her sides ached. And then her lips set, andher face grew terribly hard, and she muttered, "Fools!" But she smiledagain as she gathered the penitent girl in her arms, and kissed her. 

"You will learn many things, dearie, before you are through with NewYork. And, " she added, her brow again clouding, "you _will_ be throughwith it--some day!"

That evening she repeated the story at her table, and Gannette, whohappened to be present, swore between roars of laughter that he woulduse it as a club over his wife, should she ever again trap him in anyof his numerous indiscretions. 

Again, the girl's odd views of life and its meaning which, despite herefforts, she could not refrain from voicing now and then, caused theworldly Mrs. Hawley-Crowles much consternation. Carmen trieddesperately to be discreet. Even Harris advised her to listen much, but say little; and she strove hard to obey. But she would forget andhurl the newspapers from her with exclamations of horror over theirred-inked depictions of mortal frailty--she would flatly refuse todiscuss crime or disease--and she would comment disparagingly at toofrequent intervals on the littleness of human aims and the emptinessof the peacock-life which she saw manifested about her. "I don'tunderstand--I can't, " she would say, when she was alone with theBeaubien. "Why, with the wonderful opportunities which you rich peoplehave, how can you--oh, how can you toss them aside for the frivolitiesand littleness that you all seem to be striving for! It seems to meyou must be mad--_loco_! And I know you are, for you are simplymesmerized!"

Then the Beaubien would smile knowingly and take her in her arms. "Weshall see, " she would often say, "we shall see. " But she would offerno further comment. 

Thus the summer months sped swiftly past, with Carmen ever looking andlistening, receiving, sifting, in, but not of, the new world intowhich she had been cast. In a sense her existence was as narrowlyroutined as ever it had been in Simití, for her days were spent at thegreat organ, with frequent rides in the automobile through the parksand boulevards for variation; and her evenings were jealously guardedby Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, whose policy was to keep the girl in seclusionuntil the advent of her formal introduction to the world offashionable society, when her associates would be selected only fromthe narrow circle of moneyed or titled people with whom alone shemight mingle. To permit her to form promiscuous acquaintances nowmight prove fatal to the scheming woman's cherished plans, and was arisk that could not be entertained. And Carmen, suppressing herwonder, and striving incessantly to curb her ready tongue, acceptedher environment as the unreal expression of the human mind, andsubmitted--and waited. 

CHAPTER 10

The chill blasts had begun to swoop down from the frozen North, andsummer had gathered her dainty robes about her and fled shiveringbefore them. Mrs. Hawley-Crowles stood at a window and gazed withunseeing eyes at the withered leaves tossing in the wind. 

Carmen's sixteenth birthday was past by some months; the gay seasonwas at hand; and the day was speeding toward her which she had set forthe girl's formal _début_. Already, through informal calls andgatherings, she had made her charming and submissive ward known tomost of her own city acquaintances and the members of her particularset. The fresh, beautiful girl's winning personality; her frank, ingenuous manner; her evident sincerity and her naïve remarks, whichnow only gave hints of her radical views, had opened every heart wideto her, and before the advent of the social season her wonderful storywas on everybody's tongue. There remained now only the part which thewoman had planned for the Beaubien, but which, thus far, she had foundneither the courage nor the opportunity to suggest to that influentialwoman. Gazing out into the deserted street, she stamped her ample footin sheer vexation. The Beaubien had absorbed Carmen; had beenpolitely affable to her and her sister; had called twice during thesummer; and had said nothing. But what was there for her to say? Thehint must come from the other side; and Mrs. Hawley-Crowles could havewept with chagrin as she reflected gloomily on her own timorousspirit. 

But as she stood in dejection before the window a vague idea flittedinto her brain, and she clutched at it desperately. Carmen had spokenof the frequent calls of a certain Monsignor Lafelle at the Beaubienmansion, although the girl had never met him. Now why did he go there?"Humph!" muttered Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. "Old Gaspard de Beaubien was aFrench Catholic. "

But what had that to do with Carmen? Nothing--except--why, to be sure, the girl came from a Catholic country, and therefore was a Catholic!Mrs. Hawley-Crowles chuckled. That was worth developing a littlefurther. "Let us see, " she reflected, "Kathleen Ames is coming outthis winter, too. Just about Carmen's age. Candidate for her mother'ssocial position, of course. Now the Ames family are all Presbyterians. The Reverend Darius Borwell, D. D. , L. L. D. , and any other D. That willkeep him glued to his ten-thousand-dollar salary, hooked them early inthe game. Now suppose--suppose Lafelle should tell the Beaubienthat--that there's--no, that won't do! But suppose I tell him thathere's a chance for him to back a Catholic against a Protestant forthe highest social honors in New York--Carmen versus Kathleen--whatwould he say? Humph! I'm just as good a Catholic as Protestant. Jimwas Irish--clear through. And Catholic, Methodist, or Hard-shellBaptist, as suited his needs. He played 'em all. Suppose I should tipit off to Lafelle that I'm smitten with the pious intention ofdonating an altar to Holy Saints Cathedral in memory of my late, unlamented consort--what then? It's worth considering, anyway. Yes, it's not a bad idea at all. "

And thus it was that a few days later Mrs. Hawley-Crowles timed it socarefully that she chanced to call on the Beaubien with Carmen shortlyafter Monsignor Lafelle's car had pulled up at the same door. It wasthe merest accident, too, that Carmen led her puffing guardiandirectly into the morning room, where sat the Beaubien and Monsignorin earnest conversation. Mrs. Hawley-Crowles would have retired atonce, stammering apologies, and reprimanding Carmen for her assumptionof liberties in another's house; but the Beaubien was grace andcordiality itself, and she insisted on retaining her three callers andmaking them mutually acquainted. 

With the ice thus broken, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles found it easy to takethe contemplated plunge. Therefore she smiled triumphantly when, aweek later, Monsignor Lafelle alighted at her own door, in response toa summons on matters pertaining to the Church. 

"But, Madam, " replied the holy man, after carefully listening to herannouncement, "I can only refer the matter to the Bishop. I am notconnected with this diocese. I am traveling almost constantly. But Ishall be most pleased to lay it before him, with my endorsement. "

"As you say, Monsignor, " sweetly responded the gracious Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. "I sought your advice because I had met you through mydear friend, Madam Beaubien. "

"It has been a great pleasure to know you and to be of service to you, Madam, " said Monsignor, rising to depart. "But, " he added with atender smile, "a pleasure that would be enhanced were you to becomeone of us. "

Mrs. Hawley-Crowles knew that at last the time had come. "A moment, please, Monsignor, " she said, her heart beating quickly. "There isanother matter. Please be seated. It concerns my ward, the young girlwhom you met at Madam Beaubien's. "

"Ah, indeed!" said the man, resuming his seat. "A beautiful girl. "

"Yes!" returned Mrs. Hawley-Crowles enthusiastically. "And justbudding into still more beautiful womanhood. " She stopped andreflected a moment. Then she threw herself precipitately into hertopic, as if she feared further delay would result in the evaporationof her boldness. "Monsignor, it is, as you say, unfortunate that Iprofess no religious convictions; and yet, as I have told you, I findthat as the years pass I lean ever more strongly toward your Church. Now you will pardon me when I say that I am sure it is the avowedintention to make America dominantly Catholic that brings you to thiscountry to work toward that end--is it not so?"

The man's handsome face lighted up pleasantly, but he did not reply. The woman went on without waiting. 

"Now, Monsignor, I am going to be terribly frank; and if youdisapprove of what I suggest, we will both forget that the matter wasever under discussion. To begin with, I heartily endorse yourmissionary efforts in this godless country of ours. Nothing but thestrong arm of the Catholic Church, it seems to me, can check ourheadlong plunge into ruin. But, Monsignor, you do not always workwhere your labors are most needed. You may control political--"

"My dear lady, " interrupted the man, holding up a hand and shaking hishead in gentle demurral, "the Catholic Church is not in politics. "

"But it is in society--or should be!" said the woman earnestly. "Andif the Catholic Church is to be supreme in America it must work fromthe top down, as well as from the lower levels upward. At present ourwealthiest, most influential social set is absolutely domineered by aProtestant--and under the influence of a Presbyterian minister atthat! Why do you permit it?"

Monsignor Lafelle's eyes twinkled, as he listened politely. But heonly stroked the white hair that crowned his shapely head, andwaited. 

"Monsignor, " continued the now thoroughly heated Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, "why do not the women of your Church constitute our society leaders?Why do you not recognize the desirability of forcing your people intoevery avenue of human activity? And would you resent a suggestion fromme as to how in one instance this might be accomplished?"

"Certainly not, Madam, " replied Monsignor, with an expression ofwonder on his face. "Pray proceed. "

"You are laughing at me, I do believe!" she exclaimed, catching theglint in his gray eyes. 

"Pardon me, dear lady, I really am deeply interested. Please go on. "

"Well, at any rate I have your promise to forget this conversation ifyou do not approve of it, " she said quizzically. 

He nodded his head to inspire her confidence; and she continued:

"Very well, now to the point. My ward, the little Inca princess, iscoming out shortly. I want her to have the _entrée_ into the very bestsociety, into the most fashionable and exclusive set, as befitting herrank. " She stopped and awaited the effect of her words. 

Monsignor studied her for a moment, and then broke into a geniallaugh. "There is nothing reprehensible in your wish, Madam, " he said. "Our social system, however imperfect, nevertheless exists, and--dominant Catholic influence might improve it. I am quite sure itwould. "

"Good!" exclaimed Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. "Then will you help me?"

"Why, I really see nothing that I can do, " he replied slowly. 

Mrs. Hawley-Crowles was becoming exasperated with his apparentdullness. "You can do much, " she retorted in a tone tinctured withimpatience. "Since I have made you my Father Confessor to-day, I amgoing to tell you that I intend to start a social war that will ripthis city wide open. It is going to be war in which Catholic is pittedagainst Protestant. Now, which side is your Church on?"

For a moment her blunt question startled him, and he stared at heruncomprehendingly; but he quickly recovered his poise and repliedcalmly, "Neither, Madam; it remains quite neutral. "

"What!" she exclaimed. "Aren't you interested?"

"Pardon me if I say it; not at all. "

"Oh!" she murmured, her eagerness subsiding. "Then I've made an awfulmistake!"

"No, " he amended gently, "you have made a good friend. And, as such, Iagain urge you first to respect the leaning which you mentioned amoment ago and become actively affiliated with our Church here in NewYork. Both you and the young lady. Will you not consider it?"

"Certainly I will consider it, " she responded, brightening with hope. "And I will go so far as to say that I have long had it in mind. "

"Then, Madam, when that is accomplished, we may discuss the lessimportant matter of your ward's entrance into society--is it not so?"

Mrs. Hawley-Crowles rose, completely discomfited. "But the girl, Monsignor, is already a Catholic--comes from a Catholic country. It isshe whom I am pitting against the Protestant. "

"And you will efface yourself?" he queried with a peculiar smile. 

"You are cruel, " she retorted, affecting an air of injured innocenceas she stood before him with downcast eyes. "But--if you--"

"Madam, " said Monsignor, "plainly, what is it that you wish me todo?"

The sudden propounding of the question drew an equally sudden but lessthoughtful response. 

"Tell the Beau--Madam Beaubien that you wish my ward to be receivedinto the best society, and for the reasons I have given you. That'sall. "

"And is my influence with Madam Beaubien, and hers with the members offashionable society, sufficient to effect that?" he asked, an odd lookcoming into his eyes. 

"She has but to say the word to J. Wilton Ames, and his wife willreceive us both, " said the woman, carried away by her eagerness. "Andthat means strong Catholic influence in New York's most aristocraticset!"

"Ah!"

"Monsignor, " continued the woman eagerly, "will your Church receive analtar from me in memory of my late husband?"

He reflected a moment. Then, slowly, and in a low, earnest tone, "Itwould receive such a gift from one of the faith. When may we expectyou to become a communicant?"

The woman paled, and her heart suddenly chilled. She had wondered howfar she might go with this clever churchman, and now she knew that shehad gone too far. But to retract--to have him relate this conversationand her retraction to the Beaubien--were fatal! She had set hertrap--and walked into it. She groped blindly for an answer. Then, raising her eyes and meeting his searching glance, she murmuredfeebly, "Whenever you say, Monsignor. "

When the man had departed, which he did immediately, the plottingwoman threw herself upon the davenport and wept with rage. "Belle, "she wailed, as her wondering sister entered the room, "I'm going tojoin the Catholic Church! But I'd go through Sheol to beat that Amesoutfit!"

CHAPTER 11

MONSIGNOR LAFELLE made another afternoon call on the Beaubien a fewdays later. That lady, fresh from her bath, scented, powdered, andcharming in a loose, flowing Mandarin robe, received him graciously. 

"But I can give you only a moment, Monsignor, " she said, waving him toa chair, while she stooped and tenderly took up the two spaniels. "Ihave a dinner to-night, and so shall not listen unless you havesomething fresh and really worth while to offer. "

"My dear Madam, " said he, bowing low before he sank into the greatleather armchair, "you are charming, and the Church is justly proud ofyou. "

"Tut, tut, my friend, " she returned, knitting her brows. "That may befresh, I admit, but not worth listening to. And if you persist in thatvein I shall be obliged to have William set you into the street. "

"I can not apologize for voicing the truth, dear Madam, " he replied, as his eyes roved admiringly over her comely figure. "The Church hasnever ceased to claim you, however far you may have wandered from her. But I will be brief. I am leaving for Canada shortly on a mission ofsome importance. May I not take with me the consoling assurance thatyou have at last heard and yielded to the call of the tender Mother, who has never ceased to yearn for her beautiful, wayward daughter?"

The Beaubien smiled indulgently. "There, " she said gently, "I thoughtthat was it. No, Monsignor, no, " shaking her head. "When only a wild, thoughtless girl I became a Catholic in order that I might marryGaspard de Beaubien. The priest urged; and I--poof! what cared I? Butthe past eighteen years have confirmed me in some views; and one isthat I shall gain nothing, either here or hereafter, by renewing myallegiance to the Church of Rome. "

Monsignor sighed, and stroked his abundant white hair. Yet his sighbore a hope. "I learned this morning, " he said musingly, "that myrecent labors with the Dowager Duchess of Altern in England have notbeen vain. She has become a communicant of Holy Church. "

"What!" exclaimed the Beaubien. "The Duchess of Altern--sister of Mrs. J. Wilton Ames? Why, she was a high Anglican--"

"Only a degree below the true Church, Madam. Her action is butanticipatory of a sweeping return of the entire Anglican Church to thetrue fold. And I learn further, " he went on, "that the Duchess willspend the winter in New York with her sister. Which means, of course, an unusually gay season here, does it not?"

The Beaubien quickly recovered from her astonishment. "Well, Monsignor, " she laughed, "for once you really are interesting. Whatelse have you to divulge? That Mrs. Ames herself will be the nextconvert? Or perhaps J. Wilton?"

"No--at least, not yet. But one of your most intimate friends willbecome a communicant of Holy Saints next Sunday. "

"One of my most intimate friends!" The Beaubien set the spaniels downon the floor. "Now, my dear Monsignor, you are positively refreshing. Who is he?"

The man laughed softly. "Am I not right when I insist that you havewandered far, dear Madam? It is not 'he, ' but 'she, ' your dear friend, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. "

The Beaubien's mouth opened wide and she sat suddenly upright andgazed blankly at her raconteur. The man went on, apparently obliviousof the effect his information had produced. "Her beautiful ward, whois to make her bow to society this winter, is one of us by birth. "

"Then you have been at work on Mrs. Hawley-Crowles and her ward, haveyou?" said the Beaubien severely, and there was a threatening note inher voice. 

"Why, " returned Monsignor easily, "the lady sent for me to express herdesire to become affiliated with the Church. We do not seek her. And Ihave had no conversation with the girl, I assure you. "

The Beaubien reflected. Then:

"Will you tell me why, Monsignor, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles takes thisunusual step?"

"Unusual! Is it unusual, Madam, for a woman who has seen much of theworld to turn from it to the solace and promise of the Church?"

The Beaubien laughed sharply. "For women like Mrs. Hawley-Crowles itis, decidedly. What was her price, Monsignor?"

"Madam! You astonish me!"

"Monsignor, I do not. I know Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. And by this time youdo, too. She is the last woman in the world to turn from it. "

"But the question you have just propounded reflects seriously uponboth the Church and me--"

"Bah!" interjected the Beaubien, her eyes flashing. "Wait, " shecommanded imperiously, as he rose. "I have a few things to say to you, since this is to be your last call. "

"Madam, not the last, I hope. For I shall not cease to plead the causeof the Church to you--"

"Surely, Monsignor, that is your business. You are welcome in myhouse at any time, and particularly when you have such delightfulscraps of gossip as these which you have brought to-day. But, a wordbefore you go, lest you become indiscreet on your return. PlayMrs. Hawley-Crowles to any extent you wish, but let her wardalone--_absolutely_! She is not for you. "

The cold, even tone in which the woman said this left no doubt in theman's mind of her meaning. She was not trifling with him now, he knew. In her low-voiced words he found no trace of banter, of sophistry, norof aught that he might in any wise misinterpret. 

"Now, Monsignor, I have some influence in New York, as you maypossibly know. Will you admit that I can do much for or against you?Drop your mask, therefore, and tell me frankly just what has inducedMrs. Hawley-Crowles to unite with your Church. "

The man knew he was pitting his own against a master mind. Hehesitated and weighed well his words before replying. "Madam, " said heat length, with a note of reproach, "you misjudge the lady, theChurch, and me, its humble servant. The latter require no defense. Asfor Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, I speak truly when I say that doubtless shehas been greatly influenced by love for her late husband. "

"What!" The Beaubien half rose from her chair. "Jim Crowles--that raw, Irish boob, who was holding down a job on the police force until Amesfound he could make a convenient tool of him! The man who wasGannette's cat's-paw in the Fall River franchise steal! Now, Monsignor, would you have me believe you devoid of all sense?"

"But, " ejaculated the man, now becoming exasperated, and for themoment so losing his self-control as to make wretched use of hisfacts, "she is erecting an altar in Holy Saints as a memorial tohim!"

"Heavens above!" The Beaubien sank back limp. 

Monsignor Lafelle again made as if to rise. He felt that he was guiltyof a miserable _faux pas_. "Madam, I regret that I must be leaving. But the hour--"

"Stay, Monsignor!" The Beaubien roused up and laid a detaining handupon his arm. "Our versatile friend, what other projects has she inhand? What is she planning for her young ward?"

"Why, really, I can not say--beyond the fact that the girl is to beintroduced to society this winter. "

"Humph! Going to make a try for the Ames set?"

"That, I believe, Madam, would be useless without your aid. "

"Did Mrs. Hawley-Crowles say so, Monsignor?" demanded the woman, leaning forward eagerly. 

"Why, I believe I am not abusing her confidence when I say that sheintimated as much, " he said, watching her closely and sparring nowwith better judgment. "She mentioned Mrs. Ames as New York'sfashionable society leader--"

"There is no such position as leader in New York society, Monsignor, "interrupted the Beaubien coldly. "There are sets and cliques, andMrs. Ames happens to be prominent in the one which at presentfoolishly imagines it constitutes the upper stratum. Rot! And Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, with nothing but a tarnished name and a large bankaccount to recommend her, now wishes to break into that clique andattain social leadership, does she? How decidedly interesting!"

Then the woman's eyes narrowed and grew hard. Leaning closer tothe churchman, she rested the tip of her finger on his knee. "So, Monsignor, " she said, with cold precision, "this is Mrs. Hawley-Crowles's method of renouncing the world, is it? Sublime!And she would use both you and me, eh? And you are her ambassadorat the court of the Beaubien? Very well, then, she shall use us. But you and I will first make this compact, my dear Monsignor:Mrs. Hawley-Crowles shall be taken into the so-called 'Ames set, 'and you shall cease importuning me to return to your Church, andwhat is more, shall promise to have no conversation on churchmatters with her ward, the young girl. If you do not agree tothis, Monsignor, I shall set in motion forces that will make yourreturn to New York quite undesirable. " When she concluded, shelooked long and steadily into his eyes. 

Monsignor got slowly to his feet. "Madam!" he exclaimed in a hoarsewhisper, "my astonishment--"

"There, " she said calmly, as she rose and took his hand, "please omitthe dramatics, Monsignor. And now you must go, for to-night Ientertain, and I have already given you more time than I intended. But, Monsignor, do you in future work with or against me? Are we to befriends or enemies?"

"Why, Madam, " he replied quickly, "we could never be the latter!"

"And you always respect the wishes of a friend, especially if she is alady, do you not?"

"Always, Madam, " he returned after a moment's hesitation, as he bowedlow over her hand. 

"Then, good-bye. And, Monsignor, " she added, when he reached the door, "I shall be pleased to attend the dedication of the Hawley-Crowlesaltar. "

When Monsignor's car glided away from her door the Beaubien's facegrew dark, and her eyes drew to narrow slits. "So, " she reflected, asshe entered the elevator to mount to her dressing room, "that is hergame, is it? The poor, fat simpleton has no interest in either thegirl or myself, other than to use us as stepping-stones. She forgetsthat a stone sometimes turns under the foot. Fool!"

She entered her room and rang for her maid. Turning to the pier glass, she threw on the electric light and scrutinized her features narrowly. "It's going, " she murmured, "fast! God, how I hate those gray hairs!Oh, what a farce life is--what a howling, mocking farce! I hate it! Ihate everything--everybody! No--that little girl--if it is possiblefor me to love, I love her. "

She sank into an easy chair. "I wonder what it is she does to me. I'mhypnotized, I guess. Anyhow, I'm different when I'm with her. And tothink that Hawley-Crowles would sacrifice the child--humph! But, ifthe girl is made of the right stuff--and I know she is--she will standup under it and be stronger for the experience. She has got somethingthat will make her stand! I once asked her what she had that I didn't, and now I know--it is her religion, the religion that Borwell andLafelle and the whole kit of preachers and priests would corrupt ifthey had half a chance! Very well, we'll see what it does under thetest. If it saves her, then I want it myself. But, as for that littlepin-headed Hawley-Crowles, she's already signed her own death-warrant. She shall get into the Ames set, yes. And I will use her, oh, beautifully! to pay off certain old scores against Madam Ames--andthen I'll crush her like a dried leaf, the fat fool!"

The Beaubien's position was, to say the least, peculiar, and one whichrequired infinite tact on her part to protect. It was for that reasonthat the decorum which prevailed at her dinners was so rigidlyobserved, and that, whatever the moral status of the man who sat ather board, his conduct was required to be above reproach, on penaltyof immediate ejection from the circle of financial pirates, captainsof commercial jugglery, and political intriguers who made these feastsopportunities for outlining their predatory campaigns against thatmost anomalous of creatures, the common citizen. 

It was about this table, at whose head always sat the richly gownedBeaubien, that the inner circle of financial kings had gathered almostnightly for years to rig the market, determine the price of wheat orcotton, and develop mendacious schemes of stock-jobbery whose goldenharvests they could calculate almost to a dollar before launching. Asthe wealth of this clique of financial manipulators swelled beyond allbounds, so increased their power, until at last it could be justlysaid that, when Ames began to dominate the Stock Exchange, theBeaubien practically controlled Wall Street--and, therefore, in asense, Washington itself. But always with a tenure of controldubiously dependent upon the caprices of the men who continued to payhomage to her personal charm and keen, powerful intellect. 

At the time of which we speak her power was at its zenith, and shecould with equal impunity decapitate the wealthiest, most aristocraticsociety dame, or force the door of the most exclusive set for anyprotégée who might have been kept long years knocking in vain, orwhose family name, perchance, headed a list of indictments for grosspeculations. At these unicameral meetings, held in the great, dark, mahogany-wainscoted dining room of the Beaubien mansion, where asingle lamp of priceless workmanship threw a flood of light upon thesumptuous table beneath and left the rest of the closely guarded roomshrouded in Stygian darkness, plans were laid and decrees adoptedwhich seated judges, silenced clergymen, elected senators, andinfluenced presidents. There a muck-raking, hostile press was muffled. There business opposition was crushed and competition throttled. Theretax rates were determined and tariff schedules formulated. Therepublic opinion was disrupted, character assassinated, and thedeath-warrant of every threatening reformer drawn and signed. In aword, there Mammon, in the _rôle_ of business, organized andunorganized, legitimate and piratical, sat enthroned, with wiresleading into every mart of the world, and into every avenue of humanendeavor, be it social, political, commercial, or religious. Thesewires were gathered together into the hands of one man, the directinggenius of the group, J. Wilton Ames. Over him lay the shadow of theBeaubien. 

An hour after the departure of Monsignor Lafelle the Beaubien, like aradiant sun, descended to the library to greet her assembled guests. Some moments later the heavy doors of the great dining room swungnoiselessly open, and the lady proceeded unescorted to her position atthe head of the table. At her signal the half dozen men sat down, andthe butler immediately entered, followed by two serving men with thecocktails and the first course. The chair at the far end of the table, opposite the Beaubien, remained unoccupied. 

"Ames is late to-night, " observed the girthy Gannette, glancing towardthe vacant seat, and clumsily attempting to tuck his napkin into hiscollar. 

The Beaubien looked sharply at him. "Were you at the club thisafternoon, Mr. Gannette?" she inquired coldly. 

Gannette straightened up and became rigid. Pulling the napkin downhastily, he replied in a thick voice, "Just a little game ofbridge--some old friends--back from Europe--"

The Beaubien turned to the butler. "William, Mr. Gannette is notdrinking wine this evening. " The butler bowed and removed the glassesfrom that gentleman's place. 

Gannette turned to expostulate. "Now, Lucile--" he began peevishly. The Beaubien held up a hand. Gannette glowered and sank down in hischair like a swollen toad. 

"May be Ames is trying to break into the C. And R. Directors'meeting, " suggested Weston, himself a director in a dozen companies, and a bank president besides. A general laugh followed the remark. 

"They tell me, " said Fitch, "that for once Ames has been outwitted, and that by a little bucket-shop broker named Ketchim. "

"How's that?" queried Kane, Board of Trade plunger, and the mostmettlesome speculator of the group. 

"Why, " explained Weston, "some months ago Ames tried to reach Ed. Stolz through Ketchim, the old man's nephew, and get control of C. AndR. But friend nephew dropped the portcullis just as Ames was dashingacross the drawbridge, and J. Wilton found himself outside, lookingthrough the bars. First time I've ever known that to happen. Now theboys have got hold of it on 'Change, and Ames has been getting it fromevery quarter. "

"Long time leaking out, seems to me, " remarked Kane. "But what's Amesgoing to do about it?"

"Nothing, I guess, " returned Weston. "He seems to have dropped thematter. "

"I think you will find yourself mistaken, " put in the Beaubienevenly. 

"Why?" queried Fitch, as all eyes turned upon the woman. "Have youinside information?"

"None whatever, " she replied. "But Mr. Ames always gets what he goesafter, and he will secure control of C. And R. Eventually. "

"I don't believe it!" vigorously asserted Murdock, who had been aninterested listener. "He will never oust Stolz. "

"I have one thousand dollars that says he will, " said the Beaubien, calmly regarding the speaker. "William, my checkbook, please. "

Murdock seemed taken back for the moment; but lost no time recoveringhis poise. Drawing out his own book he wrote a check in the Beaubien'sname for the amount and sent it down the table to her. 

"Mr. Fitch will hold the stakes, " said the woman, handing him the twoslips of paper. "And we will set a time limit of eighteen months. "

"By the way, " remarked Peele, the only one of the group who had takenno part in the preceding conversation, "I see by the evening paperthat there's been another accident in the Avon mills. Fellow namedMarcus caught in a machine and crushed all out of shape. That's thethird one down there this month. They'll force Ames to equip his millswith safety devices if this keeps up. "

"Not while the yellow metal has any influence upon the Legislature, "returned the Beaubien with a knowing smile. "But, " she added moreseriously, "that is not where the danger lies. The real source ofapprehension is in the possibility of a strike. And if war breaks outamong those Hungarians down there it will cost him more than to equipall his mills now with safety devices. "

Gannette, who had been sulking in his chair, roused up. "Speakingof war, " he growled, "has Ames, or any of you fellows, got afinger in the muddle in South America? I've got interests downthere--concessions and the like--and by--!" He wandered off intoincoherent mutterings. 

The Beaubien gave a sharp command to the butler. "William, Mr. Gannette is leaving now. You will escort him to the door. "

"Now look here, Lucile!" cried Gannette, his apoplectic face becomingmore deeply purple, and his blear eyes leering angrily upon the calmwoman. "I ain't a-goin' to stand this! What have I done? I'm as soberas any one here, an'--" William took the heavy man gently by the armand persuaded him to his feet. The other guests suppressed theirsmiles and remained discreetly quiet. 

"But--my car--!" sputtered Gannette. 

"Have Henri take him to his club, William, " said the Beaubien, rising. "Good night, Mr. Gannette. We will expect you Wednesday evening, andwe trust that we will not have to accept your excuses again. "

Gannette was led soddenly out. The Beaubien quietly resumed her seat. It was the second time the man had been dismissed from her table, andthe guests marveled that it did not mean the final loss of her favor. But she remained inscrutable; and the conversation quickly driftedinto new channels. A few moments later William returned and made aquiet announcement:

"Mr. Ames. "

A huge presence emerged from the darkness into the light. The Beaubienimmediately rose and advanced to greet the newcomer. "What is it?" shewhispered, taking his hand. 

The man smiled down into her upturned, anxious face. His only replywas a reassuring pressure of her hand. But she comprehended, and herface brightened. 

"Gentlemen, " remarked Ames, taking the vacant chair, "the President'smessage is out. I have been going over it with Hood--which accountsfor my tardiness, " he added, nodding pleasantly to the Beaubien. "Quoting from our chief executive's long list of innocent platitudes, I may say that 'private monopoly is criminally unjust, whollyindefensible, and not to be tolerated in a Republic founded upon thepremise of equal rights to all mankind. '"

"Certainly not!" concurred Weston, holding up his glass and gazingadmiringly at the rich color of the wine. 

The others laughed. "Quite my sentiments, too, " murmured Fitch, rolling his eyes upward and attempting with poor success to assume abeatific expression. 

"Furthermore, " continued Ames, with mock gravity, "the interlocking ofcorporation directorates must be prohibited by law; power must beconferred upon the Interstate Commerce Commission to superintend thefinancial management of railroads; holding-companies must cease toexist; and corrective policies must be shaped, whereby so-called'trusts' will be regulated and rendered innocuous. Are we agreed?"

"We are, " said they all, in one voice. 

"Carried, " concluded Ames in a solemn tone. Then a burst of laughterrose from the table; and even the inscrutable William smiled behindhis hand. 

"But, seriously, " said Weston, when the laughter had ceased, "Ibelieve we've got a President now who's going to do something, don'tyou?"

"I do not, " replied Ames emphatically. "As long as the human mindremains as it is there is nothing to fear, though Congress legislateitself blue in the face. Reform is not to be made like a garment andforced upon the people from the outside. It is a growth from within. Restrictive measures have not as yet, in all the history ofcivilization, reformed a single criminal. "

"What does Hood say?" asked Murdock. 

"That we are puncture-proof, " replied Ames with a light laugh. 

"But what about your indictment in that cotton deal? Is Hood going tofind you law-proof there?"

"The case is settled, " said Ames easily. "I went into court thismorning and plead guilty to the indictment for conspiring to cornerthe cotton market two years ago. I admitted that I violated theSherman law. The judge promptly fined me three thousand dollars, forwhich I immediately wrote a check, leaving me still the winner by sometwo million seven hundred thousand dollars on the deal, to say nothingof compound interest on the three thousand for the past two years. Yousee the beneficent effect of legislation, do you not?"

"By George, Ames, you certainly were stingy not to let us in on that!"exclaimed Kane. 

"Cotton belongs to me, gentlemen, " replied Ames simply. "You will haveto keep out. "

"Well, " remarked Fitch, glancing about the table, "suppose we get downto the business of the evening--if agreeable to our hostess, " bowingin the direction of the Beaubien. 

The latter nodded her approval of the suggestion. "Has any oneanything new to offer?" she said. 

Some moments of silence followed. Then Ames spoke. "There is a littlematter, " he began, "that I have been revolving for some days. Perhapsit may interest you. It concerns the Albany post road. It occurred tome some time ago that a franchise for a trolley line on that roadcould be secured and ultimately sold for a round figure to the wealthyresidents whose estates lie along it, and who would give a milliondollars rather than have a line built there. After some preliminaryexamination I got Hood to draft a bill providing for the building ofthe road, and submitted it to Jacobson, Commissioner of Highways. Hereported that it would be the means of destroying the post road. Iconvinced him, on the other hand, that it would be the means of lininghis purse with fifty thousand dollars. So he very naturally gave ithis endorsement. I then got in consultation with Senator Gossitch, andhad him arrange a meeting with the Governor, in Albany. I think, " heconcluded, "that about five hundred thousand dollars will grease thewheels all 'round. I've got the Governor on the hip in that SouthernMexican deal, and he is at present eating out of my hand. I'll laythis project on the table now, and you can take it up if you sodesire. "

"The scheme seems all right, " commented Weston, after a shortmeditation. "But the profits are not especially large. What else haveyou?"

"Well, a net profit of half a million to split up among us would atleast provide for a yachting party next summer, " remarked Amessententiously. "And no work connected with it--in fact, the work hasbeen done. I shall want an additional five per cent for handling it. "

An animated discussion followed; and then Fitch offered a motion thatthe group definitely take up the project. The Beaubien put the vote, and it was carried without dissent. 

"What about that potato scheme you were figuring on, Ames?" askedFitch at this juncture. "Anything ever come of it?"

Ames's eyes twinkled. "I didn't get much encouragement from myfriends, " he replied. "A perfectly feasible scheme, too. "

"I don't believe it, " put in Weston emphatically. "It never could beput through. "

"I have one million dollars that says it could, " returned Ames calmly. "Will you cover it?"

Weston threw up his hands in token of surrender. "Not I!" heexclaimed, scurrying for cover. 

Ames laughed. "Well, " he said, "suppose we look into the scheme andsee if we don't want to handle it. It simply calls for a littlethought and work. The profits would be tremendous. Shall I explain?"He stopped and glanced at the Beaubien for approval. She nodded, andhe went on:

"I have lately been investigating the subject of various food suppliesother than wheat and corn as possible bases for speculation, and myattention has been drawn strongly to a very humble one, potatoes. "

A general laugh followed this announcement. But Ames continuedunperturbed:

"I find that in some sections of the West potatoes are so plentiful attimes that they bring but twenty cents a bushel. My investigationshave covered a period of several months, and now I have in mypossession a large map of the United States with the potato sections, prices, freight rates and all other necessary data indicated. Theresults are interesting. My idea is to send agents into all thesesections next summer before the potatoes are turned up, and contractfor the entire crop at twenty-five cents a bushel. The agents will paythe farmers cash, and agree to assume all expenses of digging, packing, shipping, and so forth, allowing the farmer to take what heneeds for his own consumption. Needless to say, the potatoes will notbe removed from the fields, but will be allowed to rot in the ground. Those that do reach the market will sell for a dollar and a half inNew York and Chicago. "

"In other words, " added Fitch, "you are simply figuring to corner themarket for the humble tuber, eh?"

"Precisely, " said Ames. 

"But--you say you have all the necessary data now?"

"All, even to the selection of a few of my agents. I can controlfreight rates for what we may wish to ship. The rest of the crop willbe left to rot. The farmers will jump at such a bargain. And theconsumers will pay our price for what they must have. "

"Very pretty, " mused Murdock. "And how much do you figure we shallneed to round the corner?"

"A million, cash in hand, " replied Ames. 

"Is this anything that the women can mix into?" asked Fitch suddenly. "You know they forced us to dump tons of our cold-storage stuff ontothe market two years ago. "

"That was when I controlled wheat, " said Ames, "and was all tied up. But this is a wholly different proposition. It will be done so quietlyand thoroughly that it will all be over and the profits pocketedbefore the women wake up to what we're doing. In this case there willbe nothing to store. And potatoes exposed in the field rot quickly, you know. "

The rest of the group seemed to study the idea for some moments. Thenthe practical Murdock inquired of Ames if he would agree to handle theproject, provided they took it up. 

"Yes, " assented Ames, "on a five per cent basis. And I am ready to putagents in the field to-morrow. "

"Then, Madam Beaubien, " said Fitch, "I move that we adopt the plan asset forth by Mr. Ames, and commission him to handle it, calling uponus equally for whatever funds he may need. "

A further brief discussion ensued; and then the resolution wasunanimously adopted. 

"Say, Ames, " queried Weston, with a glint of mischief in his eyes, "will any of these potatoes be shipped over the C. And R. ?" A laughwent up around the table, in which Ames himself joined. "Yes, " hesaid, "potatoes and cotton will both go over that road next summer, and I shall fix the rebates. "

"How about your friend Ketchim?" suggested Fitch, with a wink atMurdock. 

Ames's mouth set grimly, and the smile left his face. "Ketchim isgoing to Sing Sing for that little deal, " he returned in a low, coldtone, so cold that even the Beaubien could not repress a littleshudder. "I had him on Molino, but he trumped up a new company whichabsorbed Molino and satisfied everybody, so I am blocked for thepresent. But, mark me, I shall strip him of every dollar, and then puthim behind the bars before I've finished!"

And no one sought to refute the man, for they knew he spoke truth. 

At midnight, while the cathedral chimes in the great hall clock weresending their trembling message through the dark house, the Beaubienrose, and the dinner was concluded. A few moments later the guestswere spinning in their cars to their various homes or clubs--all butAmes. As he was preparing to leave, the Beaubien laid a hand on hisarm. "Wait a moment, Wilton, " she said. "I have something important todiscuss with you. " She led him into the morning room, where a fire wasblazing cheerily in the grate, and drew up a chair before it for him, then nestled on the floor at his feet. 

"I sent Gannette home this evening, " she began, by way of introduction. "He was drunk. I would drop him entirely, only you said--"

"We need him, " interrupted Ames. "Hold him a while longer. "

"I'll soil my hands by doing it; but it is for you. Now tell me, " shewent on eagerly, "what about Colombia? Have you any further news fromWenceslas?"

"A cable to-day. Everything's all right. Don't worry. The Church iswith the Government, and they will win--although your money may betied up for a few years. Still, you can't lose in the end. "

The woman sat for some moments gazing into the fire. Then:

"Lafelle was here again to-day. "

"Hold him, too, " said Ames quickly. "Looks as if I had made you a sortof holding company, doesn't it?" he added, with a chuckle. "But weshall have good use for these fellows. "

"He gave me some very interesting news, " she said; and then went on torelate the conversation in detail. Ames laughed loudly as helistened. "And now, Wilton, " said the Beaubien, a determined lookcoming into her face, "you have always said that you never forgave mefor making you let Jim Crowles off, when you had him by the throat. Well, I'm going to give you a chance to get more than even. Jim's fatwidow is after your wife's scalp. I intend that she shall lose her ownin the chase. I've got my plans all laid, and I want your wife to meetthe lovely Mrs. Hawley-Crowles at the Fitch's next Thursday afternoon. It will be just a formal call--mutual introductions--and, later, aninvitation from Mrs. Ames to Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. Meantime, I want youto get Mrs. Hawley-Crowles involved in a financial way, and shear herof every penny! Do you understand?"

Ames looked at her quizzically. Then he broke into another sharplaugh. "My dear, " said he, taking her hand, "you are charming thisevening. Added years only make you more beautiful. "

"Nonsense, Will!" she deprecated, although the smile she gave himattested her pleasure in the compliment. "Well, " she continuedbriskly, "if I'm so beautiful, you can't help loving me; and if youlove me, you will do what I ask. "

He playfully pinched her cheek. "Why, poor old Jim Crowles! Really, I've long since forgotten him. Do you realize that that was more thanten years ago?"

"Please don't mention years, dear, " she murmured, shuddering a little. "Tell me, what can we do to teach this fat hussy a lesson?"

"Well, " he suggested, laughing, "we might get Ketchim after her, tosell her a wad of his worthless stocks; then when he goes down, as heis going one of these days, we will hope that it will leave her on therocks of financial ruin, eh?"

"What's Ketchim promoting?" she asked. "I know nothing about him. "

"Why, among other innocent novelties, a scheme bearing the sonoroustitle of Simití Development Company, I am told by my brokers. "

"Simití! Why--I've heard Carmen mention that name. I wonder--"

"Well, and who is Carmen?" he asked with a show of real interest. 

"My little friend--the one and only honest person I've ever dealtwith, excepting, of course, present company. "

"The amendment is accepted. And now where does this Carmen enter thegame?"

"Why, she's--surely you know about her!"

"If I did I should not ask. " "Well, she is a little Colombian--"

"Colombian!"

"Yes. They say she's an Inca princess. Came up with the engineers whowent down there for Ketchim to examine the Molino properties. Shelived all her life in a town called Simití until she came up here. "

Ames leaned over and looked steadily into the fire. "Never heard ofthe place, " he murmured dreamily. 

"Well, " said the Beaubien eagerly, "she's a--a wonderful child! I'mdifferent when I'm with her. "

He roused from his meditations and smiled down at the woman. "Then I'dadvise you not to be with her much, for I prefer you as you are. "

They sat some minutes in silence. Then the woman looked up at hercompanion. "What are you thinking about so seriously?" she asked. 

The man started; then drew himself up and gave a little nervous laugh. "Of you, " he replied evasively, "always. "

She reached up and slapped his cheek tenderly. "You were dreaming ofyour awful business deals, " she said. "What have you in handnow?--besides the revolution in Colombia, your mines, your mills, yourbanks, your railroads and trolley lines, your wheat and potatocorners, your land concessions and cattle schemes, and--well, that's astart, at least, " she finished, pausing for breath. 

"Another big deal, " he said abruptly. 

"Wheat, again?"

"No, cotton. I'm buying every bale I can find, in Europe, Asia, andthe States. "

"But, Will, you've been caught in cotton before, you know. And I don'tbelieve you can get away with it again. Unless--"

"That's it--unless, " he interrupted. "And that's just the part I havetaken care of. It's a matter of tariff. The cotton schedule will gothrough as I have it outlined. I practically own the Commission. Theydon't dare refuse to pass the measure. Cotton is low now. In a fewmonths the tariff on cotton products will be up. The new tariff-wallsends the price of raw stuff soaring. I profit, coming and going. Iwas beaten on the last deal simply because of faulty weatherprognostications. I made a bad guess. This time the weather doesn'tfigure. I'll let you in, if you wish. But these other fellows have gotto stay out. "

"I haven't a penny to invest, Will, " she replied mournfully. "You gotme so terribly involved in this Colombian revolution. "

"Oh, well, " he returned easily, "I'll lend you what you need, anyamount. And you can give me your advice and suggestions from time totime. As for your Colombian investments, haven't I guaranteed them, practically?"

"Not in writing, " she said, looking up at him with a twinkle in hereyes. 

"Bah! Well, do you want that?"

"No, certainly not, " she returned, giving him a glance of admiration. "But, to return, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles is going to be received into yourwife's set, and you are going to give her a good financial whipping?"

"Certainly, if you wish it. I'm yours to command. Mrs. Hawley-Crowlesshall go to the poor-house, if you say the word. But now, my dear, have William order my car. And, let me see, Mrs. Ames is to meet Mrs. Hawley-Crowles at Fitch's? Just a chance call, I take it. "

"Yes, dear, " murmured the Beaubien, reaching up and kissing him; "nextThursday at three. Good night. Call me on the 'phone to-morrow. "

CHAPTER 12

The Ames building, a block from the Stock Exchange, was originallyonly five stories in height. But as the Ames interests grew, floorafter floor was added, until, on the day that Mrs. Hawley-Crowlespointed it out to Carmen from the window of her limousine, it hadreached, tower and all, a height of twenty-five stories, and wasincreasing at an average rate of two additional a year. It was not itssize that aroused interest, overtopped as it was by many others, butits uniqueness; for, though a hive of humming industry, it did nothouse a single business that was not either owned outright orcontrolled by J. Wilton Ames, from the lowly cigar stands in themarble corridors to the great banking house of Ames and Company on thesecond floor. The haberdashers, the shoe-shining booths, the sodafountains, and the great commercial enterprises that dwelt about them, each and all acknowledged fealty and paid homage to the man whobrooded over them in his magnificent offices on the twenty-fifth floorin the tower above. 

It was not by any consensus of opinion among the financiers of NewYork that Ames had assumed leadership, but by sheer force of whatwas doubtless the most dominant character developed in recentyears by those peculiar forces which have produced the Americanmultimillionaire. "Mental dynamite!" was Weston's characterizationof the man. "And, " he once added, when, despite his anger, he couldnot but admire Ames's tactical blocking of his piratical move, whichthe former's keen foresight had perceived threatened danger atWashington, "it is not by any tacit agreement that we accept him, but because he knows ten tricks to our one, that's all. "

To look at the man, now in his forty-fifth year, meant, generally, anexpression of admiration for his unusual physique, and a whollyerroneous appraisal of his character. His build was that of agladiator. He stood six-feet-four in height, with Herculean shouldersand arms, and a pair of legs that suggested nothing so much as thegreat pillars which supported the facade of the Ames building. Thosearms and legs, and those great back-muscles, had sent his collegeshell to victory every year that he had sat in the boat. They had wonevery game on the gridiron in which he had participated as thegreatest "center" the college ever developed. For baseball he was abit too massive, much to his own disappointment, but the honors hefailed to secure there he won in the field events, and in thesurreptitiously staged boxing and wrestling bouts when, hidden away inthe cellar of some secret society hall, he would crush his opponentswith an ease and a peculiar glint of satisfaction in his gray eyesthat was grimly prophetic of days to come. His mental attitude towardcontests for superiority of whatever nature did not differ essentiallyfrom that of the Roman gladiators: he entered them to win. If he fell, well and good; he expected "thumbs down. " If he won, his opponent needlook for no exhibition of generosity on his part. When his man layprone before him, he stooped and cut his throat. And he would haveloathed the one who forbore to do likewise with himself. 

In scholarship he might have won a place, had not the physical side ofhis nature been so predominant, and his remarkable muscular strengthso great a prize to the various athletic coaches and directors. Ameswas first an animal; there was no stimulus as yet sufficiently strongto arouse his latent spirituality. And yet his intellect was keen; andto those studies to which he was by nature or inheritance especiallyattracted, economics, banking, and all branches of finance, he broughta power of concentration that was as stupendous as his physicalstrength. His mental make-up was peculiar, in that it was the epitomeof energy--manifested at first only in brute force--and in that it waswholly deficient in the sense of fear. Because of this his daring wasphenomenal. 

Immediately upon leaving college Ames became associated with hisfather in the already great banking house of Ames and Company. But theanimality of his nature soon found the confinement irksome; hisfather's greater conservatism hampered his now rapidly expandingspirit of commercialism; and after a few years in the banking house hewithdrew and set up for himself. The father, while lacking the boy'sfearlessness, had long since recognized dominant qualities in himwhich he himself did not possess, and he therefore confidentlyacquiesced in his son's desire, and, in addition, gave him _carteblanche_ in the matter of funds for his speculative enterprises. 

Four years later J. Wilton Ames, rich in his own name, alreadybecoming recognized as a power in the world of finance, withdiversified enterprises which reached into almost every country of theglobe, hastened home from a foreign land in response to a messageannouncing the sudden death of his father. The devolving of hisparent's vast fortune upon himself--he was the sole heir--thennecessitated his permanent location in New York. And so, reluctantlygiving up his travels, he gathered his agents and lieutenants abouthim, concentrating his interests as much as possible in the Amesbuilding, and settled down to the enjoyment of expanding his hugefortune. A few months later he married, and the union amalgamated theproud old Essex stock of Ames, whose forbears fought under theConqueror and were written in the Doomsday Book, to the wealthy andaristocratic Van Heyse branch of old Amsterdam. To this union wereborn a son and a daughter, twins. 

The interval between his graduation from college and the death of hisfather was all but unknown to the cronies of his subsequent years inNew York. Though he had spent much of it in the metropolis, he hadbeen self-centered and absorbed, even lonely, while laying his plansand developing the schemes which resulted in financial preëminence. With unlimited money at his disposal, he was unhampered in the choiceof his business clientele, and he formed it from every quarter of theglobe. Much of his time had been spent abroad, and he had become aswell known on the Paris bourse and the exchanges of Europe as in hisnative land. Confident and successful from the outset; without anytrace of pride or touch of hauteur in his nature; as wholly lacking inethical development and in generosity as he was in fear; graduallybecoming more sociable and companionable, although still reticent ofcertain periods of his past; his cunning and brutality increasing withyears; and his business sagacity and keen strategy becoming the talkof the Street; with no need to raise his eyes beyond the low plane ofhis material endeavors; he pursued his business partly for thepleasure the game afforded him, partly for the power which hisaccumulations bestowed upon him, and mostly because it served as anadequate outlet for his tremendous, almost superhuman, driving energy. If he betrayed and debauched ideals, it was because he was utterlyincapable of rising to them, nor felt the stimulus to make theattempt. If he achieved no noble purpose, it was because when heglanced at the mass of humanity about him he looked through the lensesof self. His glance fell always first upon J. Wilton Ames--and henever looked beyond. The world had been created for him; the cosmosbut expressed his Ego. 

On the morning after his conversation with the Beaubien regarding thesocial aspirations of Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, the financier sat at hisrich mahogany desk on the top floor of the Ames building in earnestdiscussion with his lawyer, Alonzo Hood. The top floor of the towerwas divided into eight rooms. Two of these constituted Ames's inner_sanctum_; one was Hood's private office; and the rest were devotedto clerks and stenographers. A telegrapher occupied an alcoveadjoining Hood's room, and handled confidential messages overprivate wires to the principal cities in the country. A privatetelephone connected Ames's desk with the Beaubien mansion. Privatelines ran to the Stock Exchange and to various other pointsthroughout the city. The telegraph and telephone companies gave hismessages preference over all others. At a word he would be placed inalmost instant communication with New Orleans, San Francisco, London, Berlin, or Cairo. Private lines and speaking tubes ran to every roomor floor of the building where a company, firm, or individual wasdoing business. At the office of the Telegraph Service up-town hemaintained messengers who carried none but his own despatches. Inthe railroad yards his private car stood always in readiness; and inthe harbor his yacht was kept constantly under steam. A motor carstood ever in waiting in the street below, close to the shaft of aprivate automatic elevator, which ran through the building for hisuse alone. This elevator also penetrated the restaurant in thebasement of the building, where a private room and a special waiterwere always at the man's disposal. A private room and specialattendant were maintained in the Turkish baths adjoining, and hehad his own personal suite and valet at his favorite club up-town. 

This morning he was at his desk, as usual, at eight o'clock. Beforehim lay the various daily reports from his mines, his mills, hisrailroads, and his bank. These disposed of, there followed a quicksurvey of the day's appointments, arranged for him by his chiefsecretary. Then he summoned Hood. As the latter entered, Ames wasabsorbed in the legend of the stock ticker. 

"C. And R. Closed yesterday at twenty-six, " he commented. Then, swinging back in his chair, "What's Stolz doing?"

"For one thing, he has made Miss Fagin his private stenographer, "replied Hood. 

Ames chuckled. "Now we will begin to get real information, " heremarked. "Tell Miss Fagin you will give her fifty dollars a week fromnow on; but she is to deliver to you a carbon copy of every letter shewrites for Stolz. And I want those copies on my desk every morningwhen I come down. Hood, " he continued, abruptly turning theconversation, "what have you dug up about Ketchim's new company?"

"Very little, sir, " replied Hood with a trace of embarrassment. "Hislawyer is a fledgeling named Cass, young, but wise enough not to talk. I called on him yesterday afternoon to have a little chat about theold Molino company, representing that I was speaking for certainstockholders. But he told me to bring the stockholders in and he wouldtalk with them personally. "

Ames laughed, while the lawyer grinned sheepishly. "Is that the sortof service you are rendering for a hundred-thousand-dollar salary?" hebantered. "Hood, I'm ashamed of you!"

"I can't blame you; I am ashamed of myself, " replied the lawyer. 

"Well, " continued Ames good-naturedly, "leave Ketchim to me. I've gotthree men now buying small amounts of stock in his various companies. I'll call for receiverships pretty soon, and we will see this timethat he doesn't refund the money. Now about other matters: the Albanypost trolley deal is to go through. Also the potato scheme. Work upthe details and let me have them at once. Have you got the senate billdrawn for Gossitch?"

"It will be ready this afternoon. As it stands now, the repealingsection gives any city the right to grant saloon licenses ofindefinite length, instead of for one year. "

"That's the idea. We want the bill so drawn that it will becomepractically impossible to revoke a license. "

"As it now reads, " said Hood, "it makes a saloon license assignable. That creates a property right that can hardly be revoked. "

"Just so, " returned Ames. "As I figure, it will create a value of sometwenty millions for those who own saloons in New York. A tidy sum!"

"That means for the brewers. "

"And distillers, yes. And if the United States ever reaches the pointwhere it will have to buy the saloons in order to wipe them out, itwill face a very handsome little expenditure. "

"But, Mr. Ames, a very large part of the stock of American brewingcompanies is owned in Europe. How are you--"

"Nominally, it is. But for two years, and more, I have been quietlygathering in brewing stock from abroad, and to-day I have some tenmillions in my own control, from actual purchases, options, and soforth. I'm going to organize a holding company, when the time arrives, and I figure that within the next year or so we will practicallycontrol the production of beer and spirituous liquors in the UnitedStates and Europe. The formation of that company will be a task worthyof your genius, Hood. "

"It will be a pleasure to undertake it, " replied Hood with animation. "By the way, Mr. Ames, I got in touch with Senator Mall last eveningat the club, and he assures me that the senate committee have sochanged the phraseology of the tariff bill on cotton products that theclause you wish retained will be continued with its meaning unaltered. In fact, the discrimination which the hosiery interests desire will befully observed. Your suggestion as to an ad valorem duty of fifty percent on hose valued at less than sixty-five cents a dozen pairs isexceptionally clever, in view of the fact that there are none of lessthan that value. "

Ames laughed again. "Triumphant Republicanism, " he commented. "Andright in the face of the President's message. Wire Mall that I will bein Washington Thursday evening to advise with him further about it. And you will go with me. Hood, we've got a fight on in regard tothe President's idea of granting permission in private suits to usejudgments and facts brought out and entered in government suitsagainst combinations. That idea has got to be killed! And theregulation of security issues of railroads--preposterous! Why, thePresident's crazy! If Mall and Gossitch and Wells don't opposethat in the Senate, I'll see that they are up before the lunacycommission--and I have some influence with that body!"

"There is nothing to fear, I think, " replied Hood reassuringly. "Animportant piece of business legislation like that will hardly gothrough this session. And then we will have time to prepare tofrustrate it. The suggestion to place the New York Stock Exchangeunder government supervision is a much more serious matter, I think. "

"See here, Hood, " said Ames, leaning forward and laying a hand uponthat gentleman's knee, "when that happens, we'll have either aSocialist president or a Catholic in the White House, with Rometwitching the string. Then I shall move to my Venezuelan estates, takethe vow of poverty, and turn monk. "

"Which reminds me again that by your continued relations with Rome youare doing much to promote just that state of affairs, " returned thelawyer sententiously. 

"Undoubtedly, " said Ames. "But I find the Catholic Churchconvenient--indeed, necessary--for the promotion of certain plans. Andso I use it. The Colombian revolution, for example. But I shallabruptly sever my relations with that institution some day--when I amthrough with it. At present I am milking the Church to the extent of abrimming pail every year; and as long as the udder is full andaccessible I shall continue to tap it. I tapped the PresbyterianChurch, through Borwell, last year, if you remember. "

Willett, chief secretary to Ames, entered at that moment with themorning mail, opened and sorted, and replies written to letters ofsuch nature as he could attend to without suggestions from his chief. 

"By the way, " remarked Hood when he saw the letters, "I had word fromCollins this morning that he had secured a signed statement from thatfellow Marcus, who was crushed in the Avon mills yesterday. Marcusaccepted the medical services of our physicians, and died in ourhospital. Just before he went off, his wife accepted a settlement ofone hundred dollars. Looked big to her, I guess, and was a bird in thehand. So that matter's settled. "

"That reminds me, " said Ames, looking up from his mail; "we are goingto close the mills earlier this year on account of the cottonshortage. "

Hood gave a low whistle. "That spells trouble, in capital letters!" hecommented. "Four thousand hands idle for three months, I suppose. ByGeorge! we just escaped disaster last year, you remember. "

"It will be more than three months this time, " commented Ames with aknowing look. Then--"Hood, I verily believe you are a coward. "

"Well, Mr. Ames, " replied the latter slowly, "I certainly wouldhesitate to do some of the things you do. Yet you seem to get awaywith them. "

"Perk up, Hood, " laughed Ames. "I've got real work for you as soon asI get control of C. And R. I'm going to put you in as president, at asalary of one hundred thousand per annum. Then you are going to buythe road for me for about two million dollars, and I'll reorganize andsell to the stockholders for five millions, still retaining control. The road is only a scrap heap, but its control is the first steptoward the amalgamation of the trolley interests of New England. Lawsare going to be violated, Hood, both in actual letter and in spirit. But that's your end of the business. It's up to you to get around theInterstate Commerce Commission in any way you can, and buttress thislittle monopoly against competition and reform-infected legislatures. I don't care what it costs. "

"What about Crabbe?" asked Hood dubiously. 

"We'll send Crabbe to the Senate, " Ames coolly replied. 

"You seem to forget that senators are now elected by the people, Mr. Ames. "

"I forget nothing, sir. The people are New York City, Buffalo, andAlbany. Tammany is New York. And Tammany at present is in my pocket. Buffalo and Albany can be swept by the Catholic vote. And I have thatin the upper right hand drawer of my private file. The 'people' willtherefore elect to the Senate the man I choose. In fact, I preferdirect election of senators over the former method, for the people aregreater fools _en masse_ than any State Legislature that everassembled. "

He took up another letter from the pile on his desk and glancedthrough it. "From Borwell, " he commented. "Protests against the wayyou nullified the Glaze-Bassett red-light injunction bill. Prettyclever, that, Hood. I really didn't think it was in you. "

"Invoking the referendum, you mean?" said Hood, puffing a little withpride. 

"Yes. But for that, the passage of the bill would have wiped out thewhole red-light district, and quartered the rents I now get from myshacks down there. Now next year we will be better prepared to fightthe bill. The press will be with us then--a little cheaper and atrifle more degraded than it is to-day. "

A private messenger entered with a cablegram. Ames read it and handedit to his lawyer. "The _Proteus_ has reached the African Gold Coast atlast, " he said. Then he threw back his head and laughed heartily. "Doyou know, Hood, the _Proteus_ carried two missionaries, sent to thefrizzle-topped Zulus by Borwell and his outfit. Deutsch and Companycable that they have arrived. "

"But, " said Hood in some perplexity, "the cargo of the _Proteus_ wasrum!"

"Just so, " roared Ames; "that's where the joke comes in. I make it apoint that every ship of mine that carries a missionary to a foreignfield shall also carry a cargo of rum. The combination is one that theZulu finds simply irresistible!"

"So, " commented Hood, "the Church goes down to Egypt for help!"

"Why not?" returned Ames. "I carry the missionaries free on my rumboats. Great saving to the Board of Foreign Missions, you know. "

Hood looked at the man before him in undisguised admiration of hiscunning. "And did you likewise send missionaries to China with youropium cargoes?" he asked. 

Ames chuckled. "I once sent Borwell himself to Hongkong on a boatloaded to the rails with opium. We had insisted on his taking a neededvacation, and so packed him off to Europe. In Bombay I cabled him totake the _Crotus_ to Hongkong, transportation free. That was my lastconsignment of opium to China, for restrictions had already fallenupon our very Christian England, and the opium traffic was killed. Ihad plans laid to corner the entire opium business in India, and I'dhave cleaned up a hundred million out of it, but for the pressure ofpublic sentiment. However, we're going to educate John Chinaman tosubstitute whiskey for opium. But now, " glancing at the great electricwall clock, "I've wasted enough time with you. By the way, do you knowwhy this Government withheld recognition of the Chinese Republic?"

"No, " replied Hood, standing in anticipation. 

"Thirty thousand chests of opium, " returned Ames laconically. "Value, fifty million dollars. "

"Well?"

"Ames and Company had advanced to the English banks of Shanghai andHongkong half this amount, loaned on the opium. That necessitated afew plain words from me to the President, and a quick trip fromWashington to London afterwards to interview his most ChristianBritish Majesty. A very pleasant and profitable trip, Hood, very! Nowtell Willett I want him. "

Hood threw his chief another look of intense admiration, and left theroom. Willett's entrance followed immediately. 

"Get Lafelle here some time to-day when I have a vacant hour, "commanded Ames. "Cable to acting-Bishop Wenceslas, of Cartagena, andask him if an American mining company is registered there under thename of Simití Development Company, and what properties they have andwhere located. Tell him to cable reply, and follow with detailedletter. "

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "The Congregation ofthe Sacred Index has laid the ban on--what's the name of the book?" Hedrew out a card-index drawer and selected a card, which he tossed tothe secretary. "There it is. Get me the book at once. " He seemed tomuse a while, then went on slowly. "Carlos Madero, of Mexico, is inNew York. Learn where he is staying, and arrange an interview for me. Wire Senator Wells, Washington, that the bill for a Children's Bureaumust not be taken from the table. That's final. Wire the Sequana CoalCompany that I want their report to-morrow, without fail. WireCollins, at Avon, to tell the Spinners' Union I have nothing todiscuss with them. Now send Hodson in. "

As Hood was chief of the Ames legal department, and Willett the chiefof his army of secretaries, so Hodson was the captain of his force ofbrokers, a keen, sagacious trader, whose knowledge of the market andwhose ability in the matter of stock trading was almost uncanny. 

"What's your selection for to-day, Hodson?" asked Ames, as the manentered. 

Hodson laid on his desk three lists of suggested deals on theexchanges of New York, London, and Paris. Ames glanced over themhurriedly, drawing his pencil through certain that did not meet hisapproval, and substituting others in which for particular reasons hewished to trade that morning. "What's your reason for thinking I oughtto buy Public Utilities?" he asked, looking up at his broker. 

"They have the letting of the Hudson river tunnel contract, " repliedHodson. 

Ames studied the broker's face a moment. Then his own brightened, ashe began to divine the man's reason. "By George!" he ejaculated, "youthink there's quicksand along the proposed route?"

"I know it, " said Hodson calmly. 

"Pick up ten thousand shares, if you can get them, " returned Amesquickly. Then--"I'm going to attend a meeting of the Council ofAmerican Grain Exchanges at two to-day. I want you to be just outsidethe door. "

Hodson nodded understandingly. Ames concluded, "I guess that's all. I'm at the bank at ten; at the Board of Trade at ten-thirty; StockExchange at eleven; and lunch at Rector's at twelve sharp, returninghere immediately afterward. "

Hodson again bowed, and left the office to undertake his variouscommissions. 

For the next half hour Ames pored over the morning's quota of lettersand messages, making frequent notes, and often turning to thetelephone at his hand. Then he summoned a stenographer and rapidlydictated a number of replies. Finally he again called Willett. 

"In my next vacant hour, following the one devoted to Lafelle, I wantto see Reverend Darius Borwell, " he directed. "Also, " he continued, "wire Strunz that I want a meeting of the Brewers' Union called at theearliest possible date. By the way, ask Lafelle if he can spend thenight with me on board the _Cossack_, and if so, notify CaptainMcCall. That will save an hour in the day. Here is a bundle ofrequests for charity, for contributions to hospitals, orphan asylums, and various homes. Turn them all down, regretfully. H'm! 'Phone to theCity Assessor to come over whenever you can arrange an hour and goover my schedule with me. By the way, tell Hood to take steps at onceto foreclose on the Bradley estate. Did you find out where Ketchimdoes his banking?"

"Yes, sir, " replied the secretary, "the Commercial State. "

"Very well, get the president, Mr. Colson, on the wire. "

A few moments later Ames had purchased from the Commercial State bankits note against the Ketchim Realty Company for ten thousand dollars. "I thought Ketchim would be borrowing again, " he chuckled, when he hadcompleted the transaction. "His brains are composed of a disastrousmixture of hypocrisy and greed. I've thrown another hook into himnow. "

At nine forty-five Ames left his private office and descended in hiselevator to the banking house on the second floor. He entered thedirectors' room with a determined carriage, nodding pleasantly to hisassociates. Taking his seat as chairman, he promptly called themeeting to order. 

Some preliminary business occupied the first few minutes, and thenAmes announced:

"Gentlemen, when the State of New York offered the public sixtymillions of four per cent bonds last week, and I advised you to takethem at a premium of six per cent, you objected. I overruled you, andthe bank bought the bonds. Within forty-eight hours they were resoldat a premium of seven per cent, and the bank cleared six hundredthousand. A fair two days' business. Now let me suggest that thepsychology of this transaction is worth your study. A commodity is adrug on the market at one dollar, until somebody is willing to pay adollar and a half for it. Then a lot of people will want it, untilsomebody else offers a bid of two. Then the price will soar, and thenumber of those who covet the article and scramble for it willincrease proportionably. Take this thought home with you. "

A murmur of admiration rose from the directors. "I think, " said one, "that we had better send Mr. Ames to Washington to confer with thePresident in regard to the proposed currency legislation. "

"That is already arranged, " put in Ames. "I meet the President nextThursday for a conference on this matter. "

"And if he proves intractable?" queried another. 

"Why, in that case, " returned Ames with a knowing smile, "I think wehad better give him a little lesson to take out of office withhim--one that will ruin his second-term hopes--and then close ourbank. "

From the bank, the Board of Trade, the Stock Exchange, and hisluncheon with Senator Gossitch, Ames returned to his office for theprivate interviews which his chief secretary had arranged. Thenfollowed further consultations with Hood over the daily, weekly, andmonthly reports which Ames required from all the various commercial, financial, and mining enterprises in which he was interested; furtherdiscussions of plans and schemes; further receipt and transmission ofcable, telegraphic, and telephone messages; and meetings with hisheads of departments, his captains, lieutenants, and minor officers, to listen to their reports and suggestions, and to deliver his quick, decisive commands, admonitions, and advice. From eight in the morninguntil, as was his wont, Ames closed his desk and entered his privateelevator at five-thirty in the evening, his office flashed with thesuperenergy of the man, with his intense activity, his decisive words, and his stupendous endeavors, materialistic, absorptive, ruthlessendeavors. If one should ask what his day really amounted to, we canbut point to these incessant endeavors and their results in augmentinghis already vast material interests and his colossal fortune, afortune which Hood believed ran well over a hundred millions, andwhich Ames himself knew multiplied that figure by five or ten. And thefortune was increasing at a frightful pace, for he gave nothing, butcontinually drew to himself, always and ever drawing, accumulating, amassing, and absorbing, and for himself alone. 

Snapping his desk shut, he held a brief conversation over the wirewith the Beaubien, then descended to his waiting car and was drivenhastily to his yacht, the _Cossack_, where Monsignor Lafelle awaitedas his guest. It was one of the few pleasures which Ames allowedhimself during the warm months, to drop his multifarious interests andspend the night aboard the _Cossack_, generally alone, rocking gentlyon the restless billows, so typical of his own heaving spirit, as thebeautiful craft steamed noiselessly to and fro along the coast, wellbeyond the roar of the huge _arena_ where human beings, formed ofdust, yet fatuously believing themselves made in the image of infiniteSpirit, strive and sweat, curse and slay, in the struggle to provetheir doubtful right to live. 

CHAPTER 13

The _Cossack_, with its great turbines purring like a sleeping kitten, and its twin screws turning lazily, almost imperceptibly in the darkwaters, moved through the frosty night like a cloud brooding over thedeep. Yet it was a cloud of tremendous potentiality, enwrapping aspirit of energy incarnate. From far aloft its burning eye pierced achannel of light through the murky darkness ahead. In its wake it drewa swell of sparkling phosphorescence, which it carelessly tossed offon either side as a Calif might throw handfuls of glittering coins tohis fawning beggars. From somewhere in the structure above, thecrackling, hissing wireless mechanism was thrusting its invisiblehands out into the night and catching the fleeting messages that wereborne on the intangible pulsations of the mysterious ether. From timeto time these messages were given form and body, and despatched to theluxurious suite below, where, in the dazzling sheen of silver and cutglass, spread out over richest napery, and glowing beneath a torrentof white light, sat the gigantic being whose will directed themovements of this floating palace. 

"You see, Lafelle, I look upon religion with the eye of thecold-blooded business man, without the slightest trace of sentimentalism. From the business standpoint, the Protestant Church is a dead failure. It doesn't get results that are in any way commensurate with itsinvestment. But your Church is a success--from the point of dollars andcents. In fact, in the matter of forming and maintaining a monopoly, Itake off my hat to the Vatican. You fellows have got us all beaten. Every day I learn something of value by studying your methods ofoperating upon the public. And so you see why I take such pleasure intalking with really astute churchmen like yourself. "

Monsignor Lafelle studied the man without replying, uncertain justwhat interpretation to put upon the remark. The Japanese servant wasclearing away the remnants of the meal, having first lighted thecigars of the master and guest. 

"Now, " continued Ames, leaning back in his luxurious chair and musingover his cigar, "the purgatory idea is one of the cleverest schemesever foisted upon the unthinking masses, and it has proved a veritableKlondike. Gad! if I could think up and put over a thing like that I'dconsider myself really possessed of brains. "

Lafelle's eyes twinkled. "I fear, Mr. Ames, " he replied adroitly, "youdo not know your Bible. "

"No, that's true. I don't suppose I ever in my life read a wholechapter in the book. I can't swallow such stuff, Lafelle--utterlyunreasonable, wholly inconsistent with facts and natural laws, as weknow and are able to observe them. Even as a child I never had anyuse for fairy-tales, or wonder-stories. I always wanted facts, tangible, concrete, irrefutable facts, not hypotheses. The Protestantchurches hand out a mess of incoherent guesswork, based on as manyinterpretations of the Bible as there are human minds sufficientlyinterested to interpret it, and then wax hot and angry whenhard-headed business men like myself refuse to subscribe to it. It's preposterous, Lafelle! If they had anything tangible tooffer, it would be different. But I go to church for the looks ofthe thing, and for business reasons; and then stick pins into myselfto keep awake while I listen to pedagogical Borwell tell what hedoesn't know about God and man. Then at the close of the service Idrop a five-dollar bill into the plate for the entertainment, andgo away with the feeling that I didn't get my money's worth. From abusiness point of view, a Protestant church service is worth abouttwenty-five cents for the music, and five cents for the privilege ofsleeping on a soft cushion. So you see I lose four dollars andseventy cents every time I attend. You Catholic fellows, with yourceremonial and legerdemain, give a much better entertainment. Besides, I like to hear your priests soak it to their coweringflocks. "

Lafelle sighed. "I shall have to class you with the incorrigibles, " hesaid with a rueful air. "I am sorry you take such a harsh attitudetoward us. We are really more spiritual--"

Ames interrupted with a roar of laughter. "Don't! don't!" he pleaded, holding up a hand. "Why, Lafelle, you old fraud, I look upon yourChurch as a huge business institution, a gigantic trust, as mercenaryand merciless as Steel, Oil, or Tobacco! Why, you and I are in thesame business, that of making money! And I'd like to borrow some ofyour methods. You catch 'em through religion. I have to use othermethods. But the end is the same. Only, you've got it over me, for youhurl the weight of centuries of authority upon the poor, tremblingpublic; and I have to beat them down with clubs of my own making. Moreover, the law protects you in all your pious methods; while I haveto hire expensive legal talent to get around it. "

"You seem to be fairly successful, even at that, " retorted Lafelle. Then, too politic to draw his host into an acrimonious argument thatmight end in straining their now cordial and mutually helpfulfriendship, he observed, looking at his cigar: "May I ask what you payfor these?--for only an inexhaustible bank reserve can warrant theirlike. "

He had struck the right chord, and Ames softened at once. "These, " hesaid, tenderly regarding the thick, black weed in his fingers, "aregrown exclusively for me on my own plantation in Colombia. They costme about one dollar and sixty-eight cents each, laid down at my doorin New York. I searched the world over before I found the only spotwhere such tobacco could be grown. "

"And this wine?" continued Lafelle, lifting his glass of sparklingchampagne. 

"On a little hillside, scarcely an acre in extent, in Granada, Spain, "replied Ames. "I have my own wine press and bottling plant there. "

Lafelle could not conceal his admiration for this man of luxury. "Anddoes your exclusiveness extend also to your tea and coffee?" heventured, smiling. 

"It does, " said Ames. "I grow tea for my table in both China andCeylon. And I have exclusive coffee plantations in Java and Brazil. But I'm now negotiating for one in Colombia, for I think that, withoutdoubt, the finest coffee in the world is grown there, although itnever gets beyond the coast line. "

"_Fortuna non deo_, " murmured the churchman; "you man of chance anddestiny!"

Ames laughed genially. "My friend, " said he, "I have always insistedthat I possessed but a modicum of brains; but I am a gambler. My godis chance. With ordinary judgment and horse-sense, I take risks thatno so-called sane man would consider. The curse of the world isfear--the chief instrument that you employ to hold the masses to yourchurchly system. I was born without it. I know that as long as abusiness opponent has fear to contend with, I am his master. Fear isat the root of every ailment of mind, body, or environment. I repeat, I know not the meaning of the word. Hence my position in the businessworld. Hence, also, my freedom from the limitations of superstition, religious or otherwise. Do you get me?"

"Yes, " replied Lafelle, drawing a long sigh, "in a sense I do. But yougreatly err, my friend, in deprecating your own powerful intellect. Iknow of no brain but yours that could have put South Ohio Oil from onehundred and fifty dollars up to over two thousand a share. I had a fewshares of that stock myself. But I held until it broke. "

Ames smiled knowingly. "Sorry I didn't know about it, " he said. "Icould have saved you. I didn't own a dollar's worth of South Ohio. Oh, yes, " he added, as he saw Lafelle's eyes widening in surprise, "Ipushed the market up until a certain lady, whom you and I both know, thought it unwise to go further, and then I sprung the suddendiscovery of Colombian oil fields on them; and the market crashedlike a burst balloon. The lady cleared some two millions on the rig. No, I didn't have a drop of Colombian oil to grease the chute. It wasAmerican nerve, that's all. "

"Well!" ejaculated Lafelle. "If you had lived in the Middle Ages you'dhave been burnt for possessing a devil!"

"On the contrary, " quickly amended Ames, his eyes twinkling, "I'd havebeen made a Cardinal. "

Both men laughed over the retort; and then Ames summoned the valet toset in motion the great electrical pipe-organ, and to bring thewhiskey and soda. 

For the next hour the two men gave themselves up to the supreme luxuryof their magnificent environment, the stimulation of their beverageand cigars, and the soothing effect of the soft music, combined withthe gentle movement of the boat. Then Ames took his guest into thesmoking room proper, and drew up chairs before a small table, on whichwere various papers and writing materials. 

"Now, " he began, "referring to your telephone message of this morning, what is it that you want me to do for you? Is it the old question ofestablishing a nunciature at Washington?"

Lafelle had been impatiently awaiting this moment. He thereforeplunged eagerly into his subject. "Mr. Ames, " said he, "I know you tohave great influence at the Capital. In the interests of humanity, Iask you to use that influence to prevent the passage of theimmigration bill which provides for a literacy test. "

Ames smiled inwardly. There was no need of this request; for, in theinterests, not of humanity, but of his own steamship companies, heintended that there should be no restriction imposed upon immigration. But the Church was again playing into his hands, coming to him forfavors. And the Church always paid heavily for his support. "Well!well!" he exclaimed with an assumption of interest, "so you ask me toimpugn my own patriotism!"

Lafelle looked perplexed. "I don't quite understand, " he said. 

"Why, " Ames explained, "how long do you figure it will take, withunrestricted immigration, for the Catholics to so outnumber theProtestants in the United States as to establish their religion by lawand force it into the schools?"

Lafelle flushed. "But your Constitution provides toleration for allreligions!"

"And the Constitution is quite flexible, and wholly subject toamendment, is it not?"

Lafelle flared out in unrestrained anger. "What a bugaboo youProtestants make of Roman Catholicism!" he cried. "Great heavens! Why, one would think that we Catholics were all anarchists! Are we such amenace, such a curse to your Republican institutions? Do you ever stopto realize what the Church has done for civilization, and for yourown country? And where, think you, would art and learning be now butfor her? Have you any adequate idea what the Church is doingto-day for the poor, for the oppressed? Good God! You Protestants, a thousand times more intolerant than we, treat us as if we wereHindoo pariahs! This whole country is suffering from the delirium ofRoman Catholic-phobia! Will you drive us to armed defense?"

"There, my friend, calm yourself, " soothed Ames, laying a hand on theirate churchman's arm. "And please do not class me with theProtestants, for I am not one of them. You Catholic fellows have madeadmirable gains in the past few years, and your steady encroachmentshave netted you about ninety per cent of all the political offices inand about Washington, so you have no complaint, even if the Churchisn't in politics. H'm! So you want my help, eh?"

He stopped and drummed on the table. Meantime, his brain was workingrapidly. "By the way, Lafelle, " he said, abruptly resuming theconversation, "you know all about church laws and customs, running wayback to mediaeval times. Can't you dig up some old provision whereby Ican block a fellow who claims to own a gold mine down in Colombia? Ifyou can, I'll see that the President vetoes every obnoxiousimmigration bill that's introduced this term. "

Lafelle roused from his sulk and gulped down his wrath. Ames went onto express his desire for vengeance upon one obscure Philip O. Ketchim, broker, promoter, church elder, and Sunday school superintendent. Lafelle became interested. The conversation grew more and more animated. Hours passed. 

Then at length Ames rose and rang for his valet. "My God, Lafelle, theidea's a corker!" he cried, his eyes ablaze. "Where'd you get it?"

Lafelle laughed softly. "From a book entitled 'Confessions of a RomanCatholic Priest, ' written anonymously, but, they say, by a youngattaché of the Vatican who was insane at the time. I never learned hisname. However, he was apparently well informed on matters Colombian. "

"And what do you call the law?"

"The law of _'en manos muertas'_, " replied Lafelle. 

"Well, " exclaimed Ames, "again I take off my hat to your churchlysystem! And now, " he continued eagerly, "cable the Pope at once. I'llhave the operator send your code ashore by wireless, and the messagewill go to Rome to-night. Tell the old man you've got influence atwork in Washington that is--well, more than strong, and that theprospects for defeating the immigration bill are excellent. "

Lafelle arose and stood for a moment looking about the room. "Before Iretire, my friend, " he said, "I would like to express again theadmiration which the tasteful luxury of this smoking room has arousedin me, and to ask, if I may, whether those stained-glass windows upthere are merely fanciful portraits?"

Ames quickly glanced up at the faces of the beautiful women portrayedin the rectangular glass windows which lined the room just below theceiling. They were exquisitely painted, in vivid colors, and so set asto be illuminated during the day by sunlight, and at night by strongelectric lamps behind them. "Why do you ask?" he inquired in wonder. 

"Because, " returned Lafelle, "if I mistake not, I have seen a portraitsimilar to that one, " pointing up at one of the windows, where a sad, wistful face of rare loveliness looked down upon them. 

Ames started slightly. "Where, may I ask?" he said in a controlledvoice. 

Lafelle reflected. In his complete absorption he had not noticed theeffect of his query upon Ames. "I do not know, " he replied slowly. "London--Paris--Berlin--no, not there. And yet, it was in Europe, I amsure. Ah, I have it! In the Royal Gallery, at Madrid. "

Ames stared at him dully. "In the--Royal Gallery--at Madrid!" heechoed in a low tone. 

"Yes, " continued Lafelle confidently, still studying the portrait, "Iam certain of it. But, " turning abruptly upon Ames, "you may haveknown the original?"

Ames had recovered his composure. "I assure you I never had thatpleasure, " he said lightly. "These art windows were set in by thedesigner of the yacht. Clever idea, I thought. Adds much to thegeneral effect, don't you think? By the way, if a portrait similar tothat one hangs in the Royal Gallery at Madrid, you might try to learnthe identity of the original for me. It's quite interesting to feelthat one may have the picture of some bewitching member of royaltyhanging in his own apartments. By all means try to learn who the ladyis--unless you know. " He stopped and searched the churchman's face. 

But Lafelle shook his head. "No, I do not know her. But--that picturehas haunted me from the day I first saw it in the Royal Gallery. Whodesigned your yacht?"

"Crafts, of 'Storrs and Crafts, '" replied Ames. "But he died a yearago. Storrs is gone, too. No help from that quarter. "

Lafelle moved thoughtfully toward the door. The valet appeared at thatmoment. 

"Show Monsignor to his stateroom, " commanded Ames. "Good night, Monsignor, good night. Remember, we dock at seven-thirty, sharp. "

Returning to the table, Ames sat down and rapidly composed a messagefor his wireless operator to send across the dark waters to the city, and thence to acting-Bishop Wenceslas, in Cartagena. This done, heextinguished all the lights in the room excepting those whichilluminated the stained-glass windows above. Drawing his chair up infront of the one which had stirred Lafelle's query, he sat before itfar into the morning, in absorbed contemplation, searching the sadfeatures of the beautiful face, pondering, revolving, sometimesmurmuring aloud, sometimes passing a hand across his brow, as if hewould erase from a relentless memory an impression made long since andworn ever deeper by the recurrent thought of many years. 

CHAPTER 14

Almost within the brief period of a year, the barefoot, calico-cladCarmen had been ejected from unknown Simití and dropped into the midstof the pyrotechnical society life of the great New World metropolis. Only an unusual interplay of mental forces could have brought aboutsuch an odd result. But that it was a very logical outcome of thereaction upon one another of human ambitions, fears, lust, and greed, operating through the types of mind among which her life had beencast, those who have followed our story thus far can have no doubt. The cusp of the upward-sweeping curve had been reached through theinsane eagerness of Mrs. Hawley-Crowles to outdo her wealthy societyrivals in an arrogant display of dress, living, and vain, luxuriousentertaining, and the acquisition of the empty honor attaching tosocial leadership. The coveted prize was now all but within theshallow woman's grasp. Alas! she knew not that when her itchingfingers closed about it the golden bauble would crumble to ashes. 

The program as outlined by the Beaubien had been faithfully followed. Mrs. J. Wilton Ames had met Mrs. Hawley-Crowles--whom, of course, shehad long desired to know more intimately--and an interchange of callshad ensued, succeeded by a grand reception at the Ames mansion, thefirst of the social season. To this Mrs. Hawley-Crowles floated, asupon a cloud, attired in a French gown which cost fifteen hundreddollars, and shoes on her disproportioned feet for which she hadrejoiced to pay thirty dollars each, made as they had been fromspecially selected imported leather, dyed to match her rich robe. Itwas true, her pleasure had not been wholly unalloyed, for she had beenconscious of a trace of superciliousness on the part of some of thegorgeous birds of paradise, twittering and hopping in their hamperingskirts about the Ames parlors, and pecking, with milk-fed content, atthe rare cakes and ices. But she only held her empty head the higher, and fluttered about the more ostentatiously and clumsily, whileanticipating the effect which her charming and talented ward wouldproduce when she should make her bow to these same vain, haughtydevotees of the cult of gold. And she had wisely planned that Carmen's_début_ should follow that of Kathleen Ames, that it might eclipse herrival's in its wanton display of magnificence. 

On the heels of the Ames reception surged the full flood of thewinter's social orgy. Early in November Kathleen Ames was dulypresented. The occasion was made one of such stupendous display thatMrs. Hawley-Crowles first gasped, then shivered with apprehension, lest she be unable to outdo it. She went home from it in a somewhatchastened frame of mind, and sat down at her _escritoire_ to makecalculations. Could she on her meager annual income of one hundred andfifty thousand hope to meet the Ames millions? She had already allowedthat her wardrobe would cost not less than twenty-five thousanddollars a year, to say nothing of the additional expense of properlydressing Carmen. But she now saw that this amount was hopelesslyinadequate. She therefore increased the figure to seventy-fivethousand. But that took half of her income. Could she maintain hercity home, entertain in the style now demanded by her social position, and spend her summers at Newport, as she had planned? Clearly, not onthat amount. No, her income would not suffice; she would be obliged todraw on the principal until Carmen could be married off to somemillionaire, or until her own father died. Oh? if he would onlyterminate his useless existence soon!

But, in lieu of that delayed desideratum, some expedient must bedevised at once. She thought of the Beaubien. That obscure, retiringwoman was annually making her millions. A tip now and then from her, aword of advice regarding the market, and her own limited income wouldexpand accordingly. She had not seen the Beaubien since becoming amember of Holy Saints. But on that day, and again, two months later, when the splendid altar to the late lamented and patriotic citizen, the Honorable James Hawley-Crowles, was dedicated, she had marked thewoman, heavily veiled, sitting alone in the rear of the great church. What had brought her there? she wondered. She had shuddered as shethought the tall, black-robed figure typified an ominous shadowfalling athwart her own foolish existence. 

But there was no doubt of Carmen's hold on the strange, tarnishedwoman. And so, smothering her doubts and pocketing her pride, sheagain sought the Beaubien, ostensibly in regard to Carmen'sforthcoming _début_; and then, very adroitly and off-handedly, shebrought up the subject of investments, alleging that the added burdenof the young girl now rendered it necessary to increase the rate ofinterest which her securities were yielding. 

The Beaubien proved herself the soul of candor and generosity. Notonly did she point out to Mrs. Hawley-Crowles how her modest incomemight be quadrupled, but she even offered, in such a way as to make itutterly impossible for that lady to take offense, to lend her whateveramount she might need, at any time, to further Carmen's socialconquest. And during the conversation she announced that she herselfwas acting on a suggestion dropped by the great financier, Ames, andwas buying certain stocks now being offered by a coming power in worldfinance, Mr. Philip O. Ketchim. 

Why, to be sure, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles had heard of this man! Was he notpromoting a company in which her sister's husband, and the girlherself, were interested? And if such investments were good enough fora magnate of Ames's standing, they certainly were good enough for her. She would see Mr. Ketchim at once. Indeed, why had she not thought ofthis before! She would get Carmen to hypothecate her own interest inthis new company, if necessary. That interest of itself was worth afortune. 

Quite true. And if Mrs. Hawley-Crowles and Carmen so desired, theBeaubien would advance them whatever they might need on thatsecurity alone. Or, she would take the personal notes of Mrs. Hawley-Crowles--"For, you know, my dear, " she said sweetly, "whenyour father passes away you are going to be very well off, indeed, andI can afford to discount that inevitable event somewhat, can Inot?" And she not only could, but did. 

Then Mrs. Hawley-Crowles soared into the empyrean, and thisself-absorbed woman, who never in her life had earned the equivalentof a single day's food, launched the sweet, white-souled girl ofthe tropics upon the oozy waters of New York society with such_éclat_ that the Sunday newspapers devoted a whole page, profuselyillustrated, to the gorgeous event and dilated with much extravaganceof expression upon the charms of the little Inca princess, andupon the very important and gratifying fact that the three hundredfashionable guests present displayed jewels to the value of not lessthan ten million dollars. 

The function took the form of a musicale, in which Carmen's richvoice was first made known to the _beau monde_. The girl instantlyswept her auditors from their feet. The splendid pipe-organ, whichMrs. Hawley-Crowles had hurriedly installed for the occasion, became a thing inspired under her deft touch. It seemed in thatgarish display of worldliness to voice her soul's purity, itswonder, its astonishment, its lament over the vacuities of thishighest type of human society, its ominous threats of thundereddenunciation on the day when her tongue should be loosed and thepresent mesmeric spell broken--for she was under a spell, eventhat of this new world of tinsel and material veneer. 

The decrepit old Mrs. Gannette wept on Carmen's shoulder, and wenthome vowing that she would be a better woman and cut out her night-capof Scotch-and-soda. Others crowded about the girl and showered theirfulsome praise upon her. But not so Mrs. Ames and her daughterKathleen. They stared at the lovely _débutante_ with wonder andchagrin written legibly upon their bepowdered visages. And before theclose of the function Kathleen had become so angrily jealous that shewas grossly rude to Carmen when she bade her good night. For her ownfeeble light had been drowned in the powerful radiance of the girlfrom Simití. And from that moment the assassination of the characterof the little Inca princess was decreed. 

But, what with incessant striving to adapt herself to her environment, that she might search its farthest nook and angle; what with ceaselessefforts to check her almost momentary impulse to cry out against thevulgar display of modernity and the vicious inequity of privilegewhich she saw on every hand; what with her purity of thought; her rareideals and selfless motives; her boundless love for humanity; and herpassionate desire to so live her "message" that all the world mightsee and light their lamps at the torch of her burning love for God andher fellow-men, Carmen found her days a paradox, in that they wereliterally full of emptiness. After her _début_, event followed eventin the social life of the now thoroughly gay metropolis, and the poorchild found herself hustled home from one function, only to change herattire and hurry again, weary of spirit, into the waiting car, to bewhisked off to another equally vapid. It seemed to the bewildered girlthat she would never learn what was _de rigueur_; what conventionsmust be observed at one social event, but amended at another. Hertight gowns and limb-hampering skirts typified the soul-limitation ofher tinsel, environment; her high-heeled shoes were exquisite torture;and her corsets, which her French maid drew until the poor girl gaspedfor air, seemed to her the cruellest device ever fashioned by thevacuous, enslaved human mind. Frequently she changed her clothingcompletely three and four times a day to meet her social demands. Night became day; and she had to learn to sleep until noon. She foundno time for study; none even for reading. And conversation, such aswas indulged under the Hawley-Crowles roof, was confined to insipidsociety happenings, with frequent sprinklings of racy items anentdivorce, scandal, murder, or the debauch of manhood. From this shedrew more and more aloof and became daily quieter. 

It was seldom, too, that she could escape from the jaded circle ofsociety revelers long enough to spend a quiet hour with the Beaubien. But when she could, she would open the reservoirs of her soul and givefull vent to her pent-up emotions. "Oh, " she would often exclaim, asshe sat at the feet of the Beaubien in the quiet of the darkened musicroom, and gazed into the crackling fire, "how can they--how canthey!"

Then the Beaubien would pat her soft, glowing cheek and murmur, "Wait, dearie, wait. " And the tired girl would sigh and close her eyes anddream of the quiet of little Simití and of the dear ones there fromwhom she now heard no word, and yet whom she might not seek, becauseof the war which raged about her lowly birthplace. 

The gay season was hardly a month advanced when Mrs. Ames angrilyadmitted to herself that her own crown was in gravest danger. TheSouth American girl--and because of her, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles and herblasé sister--had completely captured New York's conspicuous circle. Mrs. Hawley-Crowles apparently did not lack for funds, but entertainedwith a display of reckless disregard for expense, and a carelessnessof critical comment, that stirred the city to its depths and arousedexpressions of wonder and admiration on every hand. The newspaperswere full of her and her charming ward. Surely, if the girl's socialprestige continued to soar, the Ames family soon would be relegated tothe social "has-beens. " And Mrs. Ames and her haughty daughter heldmany a serious conference over their dubious prospects. 

Ames himself chuckled. Night after night, when the Beaubien's dinnerguests had dispersed, he would linger to discuss the social war now infull progress, and to exchange with her witty comments on thesuccesses of the combatants. One night he announced, "Lafelle is inEngland; and when he returns he is coming by way of the West Indies. Ishall cable him to stop for a week at Cartagena, to see Wenceslas on alittle matter of business for me. "

The Beaubien smiled her comprehension. "Mrs. Hawley-Crowles has becomenicely enmeshed in his net, " she returned. "The altar to friend Jim isa beauty. Also, I hear that she is going to finance Ketchim's miningcompany in Colombia. "

"Fine!" said Ames. "I learned to-day that Ketchim's engineer, Harris, has returned to the States. Couldn't get up the Magdalena river, onaccount of the fighting. There will be nothing doing there for a yearyet. "

"Just as well, " commented the Beaubien. Then abruptly--"By the way, Inow hold Mrs. Hawley-Crowles's notes to the amount of two hundred andfifty thousand dollars. I want you to buy them from me and be ready toturn the screws when I tell you. "

Ames roared with laughter. "Shrewd girl!" he exclaimed, pinching hercheek. "All right. I'll take them off your hands to-morrow. And by theway, I must meet this Carmen. "

"You let her alone, " said the Beaubien quickly in a low voice. 

Ames wondered vaguely what she meant. 

 * * * * *

The inauguration of the Grand Opera season opened to Mrs. Hawley-Crowlesanother avenue for her astonishing social activities. With rareshrewdness she had contrived to outwit Mrs. Ames and secure the centerbox in the "golden horseshoe" at the Metropolitan. There, like a gaudygarden spider in its glittering web, she sat on the opening night, with her rapt _protégée_ at her side, and sent her insolent challengebroadcast. Multimillionaires and their haughty, full-toileted dames wereranged on either side of her, brewers and packers, distillers andpatent medicine concoctors, railroad magnates and Board of Tradeplungers, some under indictment, others under the shadow of death, all under the mesmeric charm of gold. In the box at her left sat theAmes family, with their newly arrived guests, the Dowager Duchess ofAltern and her son. Though inwardly boiling, Mrs. Ames was smilingand affable when she exchanged calls with the gorgeous occupants ofthe Hawley-Crowles box. 

"So chawmed to meet you, " murmured the heir of Altern, a callow youthof twenty-three, bowing over the dainty, gloved hand of Carmen. Then, as he adjusted his monocle and fixed his jaded eyes upon the freshyoung girl, "Bah Jove!"

The gigantic form of Ames wedged in between the young man and Carmen. "I've heard a lot about you, " he said genially, in a heavy voice thatharmonized well with his huge frame; "but we haven't had anopportunity to get acquainted until to-night. "

For some moments he stood holding her hand and looking steadily ather. The girl gazed up at him with her trustful brown eyes alight, anda smile playing about her mouth. "My, but you are big!" she naïvelyexclaimed. 

While she chatted brightly Ames held her hand and laughed at herfrank, often witty, remarks. But then a curious, eager look came intohis face, and he became quiet and reflective. He seemed unable to takehis eyes from her. And when the girl gently drew her hand from his helaughed again, nervously. 

"I--I know something about Colombia, " he said, "and speak the languagea bit. We'll have to get together often, so's I can brush up. "

Then, apparently noticing Mrs. Hawley-Crowles and her sister for thefirst time--"Oh, so glad to see you both! Camorso's in fine voiceto-night, eh?"

He wheeled about and stood again looking at Carmen, until she blushedunder his close gaze and turned her head away. Then he went back tohis box. But throughout the evening, whenever the girl looked in thedirection of the Ames family, she met the steady, piercing gaze of theman's keen gray eyes. And they seemed to her like sharp steel points, cutting into the portals of her soul. 

Night after night during the long season Carmen sat in the box andstudied the operas that were produced on the boards before herwondering gaze. Always Mrs. Hawley-Crowles was with her. Andgenerally, too, the young heir of Altern was there, occupying thechair next to the girl--which was quite as the solicitous Mrs. Hawley-Crowles had planned. 

"Aw--deucedly fine show to-night, Miss Carmen, " the youth ventured oneevening, as he took his accustomed place close to her. 

"The music is always beautiful, " the girl responded. "But the play, like most of Grand Opera, is drawn from the darkest side of humanlife. It is a sordid picture of licentiousness and cruelty. Only forits setting in wonderful music, Grand Opera is generally such adepiction of sex-passion, of lust and murder, that it would not bepermitted on the stage. A few years from now people will be horrifiedto remember that the preceding generation reveled in such bloodscenes--just as we now speak with horror of the gladiatorial contestsin ancient Rome. "

The young man regarded her uncertainly. "But--aw--Miss Carmen, " hehazarded, "we must be true to life, you know!" Having deliveredhimself of this oracular statement, the youth adjusted his monocle andsettled back as if he had given finality to a weighty argument. 

The girl looked at him pityingly. "You voice the cant of the modernwriter, 'true lo life. ' True to the horrible, human sense of life, that looks no higher than the lust of blood, and is satisfied with it, I admit. True to the unreal, temporal sense of existence, that is hereto-day, and to-morrow has gone out in the agony of self-imposedsuffering and death. True to that awful, false sense of life which wemust put off if we would ever rise into the consciousness of _real_life, I grant you. But the production of these horrors on the stage, even in a framework of marvelous music, serves only to hold before usthe awful models from which we must turn if we would hew out a betterexistence. Are you the better for seeing an exhibition of wantonmurder on the stage, even though the participants wondrously singtheir words of vengeance and passion?"

"But--aw--they serve as warnings; they show us the things we ought notto do, don't you know. "

She smiled. "The sculptor who would chisel a beautiful form, does heset before him the misshapen body of a hunchback, in order that he maysee what not to carve?" she asked. "And we who would transform thehuman sense of life into one of freedom from evil, can we build aperfect structure with such grewsome models as this before us? Youdon't see it now, " she sighed; "you are in the world, and of it; andthe world is deeply under the mesmeric belief of evil as a sternreality. But the day is coming when our musicians and authors willturn from such base material as this to nobler themes--themes whichwill excite our wonder and admiration, and stimulate the desire forpurity of thought and deed--themes that will be beacon lights, andtrue guides. You don't understand. But you will, some day. "

Mrs. Hawley-Crowles frowned heavily as she listened to thisconversation, and she drew a sigh of relief when Carmen, sensing thefutility of any attempt to impress her thought upon the young man, turned to topics which he could discuss with some degree ofintelligence. 

Late in the evening Ames dropped in and came directly to theHawley-Crowles box. He brought a huge box of imported candy and agorgeous bouquet of orchids, which he presented to Carmen. Mrs. Hawley-Crowles beamed upon him like the effulgent midday sun. 

"Kathleen wants you, Reggy, " Ames abruptly announced to the young man, whose lips were molding into a pout. "Little gathering up at thehouse. Take my car. " His huge bulk loomed over the younger man like amountain as he took him by the shoulders and turned him toward theexit. 

"But I wish to see the opera!" protested the youth, with a vain showof resistance. 

Ames said nothing; but his domineering personality forced the boy outof the box and into the corridor. 

"But--Uncle Wilton--!"

Ames laughed curtly. Then he took the seat which his evicted nephewhad vacated, and bent over Carmen. With a final hopeless survey of thesituation, Reginald turned and descended to the cloak room, mutteringdire but futile threats against his irresistible relative. 

"Now, little girl!" Ames's manner unconsciously assumed an air ofpatronage. "This is the first real opportunity I've had to talk withyou. Tell me, what do you think of New York?"

Carmen smiled up at him. "Well, " she began uncertainly, "since I havethawed out, or perhaps have become more accustomed to the cold, I havebegun to make mental notes. Already I have thousands of them. But theyare not yet classified, and so I can hardly answer your question, Mr. Ames. But I am sure of one thing, and that is that for the first fewmonths I was here I was too cold to even think!"

Ames laughed. "Yes, " he agreed, "the change from the tropics wassomewhat abrupt. But, aside from the climate?"

"It is like awaking from a deep sleep, " answered Carmen meditatively. "In Simití we dream our lives away. In New York all is action; loudwords; harsh commands; hurry; rush; endeavor, terrible, materialisticendeavor! Every person I see seems to be going somewhere. He may notknow where he is going--but he is on the way. He may not know why heis going--but he must not be stopped. He has so few years to live; andhe must pile up money before he goes. He must own an automobile; hemust do certain things which his more fortunate neighbor does, beforehis little flame of life goes out and darkness falls upon him. Isometimes think that people here are trying to get away fromthemselves, but they don't know it. I think they come to the operabecause they crave any sort of diversion that will make them forgetthemselves for a few moments, don't you?"

"H'm! well, I can't say, " was Ames's meaningless reply, as he satregarding the girl curiously. 

"And, " she continued, as if pleased to have an auditor who at leastpretended to understand her, "the thing that now strikes me mostforcibly is the great confusion that prevails here in everything, inyour government, in your laws, in your business, in your society, and, in particular, in your religion. Why, in that you have hundreds ofsects claiming a monopoly of truth; you have hundreds of churches, hundreds of religious or theological beliefs, hundreds of differingconcepts of God--but you get nowhere! Why, it has come to such a passthat, if Jesus were to appear physically on earth to-day, I am sure hewould be evicted from his own Church!"

"Well, yes, I guess that's so, " commented Ames, quite at sea in suchconversation. "But we solid business men have found that religiousemotion never gets a man anywhere. It's weakening. Makes a maneffeminate, and utterly unfits him for business. I wouldn't have a manin my employ who was a religious enthusiast. "

"But Jesus was a religious enthusiast, " she protested. 

"I doubt if there ever was such a person, " he answered dryly. 

"Why, the Bible--"

"Is the most unfortunate and most misunderstood piece of literatureever written, " he interrupted. "And the Church, well, I regard it asthe greatest fraud ever perpetrated upon the human race. "

"You mean that to apply to every church?"

"It fits them all. "

She studied his face for a few moments. He returned her glance assteadily. But their thoughts were running in widely divergentchannels. The conversational topic of the moment had no interestwhatsoever for the man. But this brilliant, sparkling girl--there wassomething in those dark eyes, that soft voice, that brown hair--bywhat anomaly did this beautiful creature come out of desolate, mediaeval Simití?

"Mr. Ames, you do not know what religion is. "

"No? Well, and what is it?"

"It is that which binds us to God. "

"And that?"

"Love. "

No, he knew not the meaning of the word. Or--wait--did he? His thoughtbroke restraint and flew wildly back--but he caught it, and rudelyforced it into its wonted channel. But, did he love his fellow-men?Certainly not! What would that profit him in dollars and cents? Did helove his wife? his children? The thought brought a cynical laugh tohis lips. Carmen looked up at him wonderingly. "You will have to, youknow, " she said quixotically. 

Then she reached out a hand and laid it on his. He looked down at it, so soft, so white, so small, and he contrasted it with the huge, hairybulk of his own. This little girl was drawing him. He felt it, felthimself yielding. He was beginning to look beyond the beautifulfeatures, the rare grace and charm of physical personality, which hadat first attracted only the baser qualities of his nature, and wasseeing glimpses of a spiritual something which lay back of allthat--infinitely more beautiful, unspeakably richer, divine, sacred, untouchable. 

"Of course you will attend the Charity Ball, Mr. Ames?" The thin voiceof Mrs. Hawley-Crowles jarred upon his ear like a shrill discord. Amesturned savagely upon her. Then he quickly found himself again. 

"No, " he laughed harshly. "But I shall be represented by my family. And you?" He looked at Carmen. 

"Most assuredly, " returned Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, taking the query toherself. "That is, if my French dressmaker does not fail me. She isdreadfully exasperating! What will Mrs. Ames wear, do you think?" Shearched her brows at him as she propounded this innocent question. 

Ames chuckled. "I'll tell you what it is this year, " he sagelyreplied. "It's diamonds in the heels!" He gave a sententious nod ofhis head. "I overheard Kathleen and her mother discussing plans. And--do you want to know next season's innovation? By George! I'm aregular spy. " He stopped and laughed heartily at his own treasonabledeceit. 

"Yes! yes!" whispered Mrs. Hawley-Crowles eagerly, as she drew herchair closer. "What is it?"

"One condition, " replied Ames, holding up a thick finger. 

"Of course! Anything!" returned the grasping woman. 

"Well, I want to get better acquainted with your charming ward, " hewhispered. 

"Of course; and I want you to know her better. That can be arrangedvery easily. Now what's the innovation?"

"Colored wigs, " said Ames, with a knowing look. 

Mrs. Hawley-Crowles settled back with a smile of supreme satisfaction. She would boldly anticipate next season at the coming Charity Ball. Then, leaning over toward Ames, she laid her fan upon his arm. "Can'tyou manage to come and see us some time, my sister and Carmen? Anytime, " she added. "Just call me up a little in advance. "

The blare of trumpets and the crash of drums drew their attentionagain to the stage. Ames rose and bowed his departure. A businessassociate in a distant box had beckoned him. Mrs. Hawley-Crowlesdismissed him reluctantly; then turned her wandering attention to theplay. 

But Carmen sat shrouded in thoughts that were not stimulated by thepuppet-show before her. The tenor shrieked out his tender passion, andthe tubby soprano sank into his inadequate arms with languishingsighs. Carmen heeded not their stage amours. She saw in the glarebefore her the care-lined face of the priest of Simití; she saw thegrim features and set jaw of her beloved, black-faced Rosendo, as heled her through the dripping jungle; she saw Anita's blind, helplessbabe; she saw the little newsboy of Cartagena; and her heart welledwith a great love for them all; and she buried her face in her handsand wept softly. 

CHAPTER 15

"Wait, my little princess, wait, " the Beaubien had said, when Carmen, her eyes flowing and her lips quivering, had again thrown herself intothat strange woman's arms and poured out her heart's surcease. "Itwill not be long now. I think I see the clouds forming. "

"I want to go back to Simití, to Padre Josè, to my home, " wailed thegirl. "I don't understand the ways and the thoughts of these people. They don't know God--they don't know what love is--they don't knowanything but money, and clothes, and sin, and death. When I am withthem I gasp, I choke--"

"Yes, dearest, I understand, " murmured the woman softly, as shestroked the brown head nestling upon her shoulder. "It is socialasphyxia. And many even of the 'four hundred' are suffering from thesame disease; but they would die rather than admit it. Poor, blindfools!"

To no one could the attraction which had drawn Carmen and the Beaubientogether seem stranger, more inexplicable, than to that lone womanherself. Yet it existed, irresistible. And both acknowledged it, norwould have had it otherwise. To Carmen, the Beaubien was a sympatheticconfidante and a wise counselor. The girl knew nothing of the woman'spast or present life. She tried to see in her only the reality whichshe sought in every individual--the reality which she felt that Jesusmust have seen clearly back of every frail mortal concept of humanity. And in doing this, who knows?--she may have transformed the sordid, soiled woman of the world into something more than a broken semblanceof the image of God. To the Beaubien, this rare child, the symbol oflove, of purity, had become a divine talisman, touching a dead soulinto a sense of life before unknown. If Carmen leaned upon her, she, on the other hand, bent daily closer to the beautiful girl; opened herslowly warming heart daily wider to her; twined her lonely arms dailycloser about the radiant creature who had come so unexpectedly intoher empty, sinful life. 

"But, mother dear"--the Beaubien had long since begged Carmen alwaysto address her thus when they were sharing alone these hours ofconfidence--"they will not listen to my message! They laugh and jestabout real things!"

"True, dearie. And yet you tell me that the Bible says wise menlaughed at the great teacher, Jesus. "

"Oh, yes! And his message--oh, mother dearest, his message would havehelped them so, if they had only accepted it! It would have changedtheir lives, healed their diseases, and saved them from death. And mymessage"--her lip quivered--"my message is only his--it is the messageof love. But they won't let me tell it. "

"Then, sweet, live it. They can not prevent that, can they?"

"I do live it. But--I am so out of place among them. They scoff atreal things. They mock all that is noble. Their talk is so coarse, solow and degraded. They have no culture. They worship money. They don'tknow what miserable failures they all are. And Mrs. Hawley-Crowles--"

The Beaubien's jaw set. "The social cormorant!" she muttered. 

"--she will not let me speak of God in her house. She told me to keepmy views to myself and never voice them to her friends. And she says Imust marry either a millionaire or a foreign noble. "

"Humph! And become a snobbish expatriate! Marry a decadent count, andthen shake the dust of this democratic country from your feet forever!Go to London or Paris or Vienna, and wear tiaras and coronets, andspeak of disgraceful, boorish America in hushed whispers! Theempty-headed fool! She forgets that the tarnished name she bears wasdragged up out of the ruck of the impecunious by me when I receivedJim Crowles into my house! And that I gave him what little gloss hewas able to take on!"

"Mother dear--I would leave them--only, they need love, oh, so much!"

The Beaubien strained her to her bosom. "They need you, dearie; theylittle realize how they need you! I, myself, did not know until youcame to me. There, I didn't mean to let those tears get away fromme. " She laughed softly as Carmen looked up anxiously into her face. "Now come, " she went on brightly, "we must plan for the CharityBall. "

A look of pain swept over the girl's face. The Beaubien bent andkissed her. "Wait, dearie, " she repeated. "You will not leave societyvoluntarily. Keep your light burning. They can not extinguish it. Theywill light their own lamps at yours--or they will thrust you fromtheir doors. And then, " she muttered, as her teeth snapped together, "you will come to me. "

Close on the heels of the opera season followed the Charity Ball, theHorse Show, and the Fashion Show in rapid succession, with numberlessreceptions, formal parties, and nondescript social junketingsinterspersed. During these fleeting hours of splash and glitter Mrs. Hawley-Crowles trod the air with the sang-froid and exhilaration of anexpert aviator. Backed by the Beaubien millions, and with thewonderful South American girl always at her right hand, theworldly ambitious woman swept everything before her, cut a socialswath far wider than the glowering Mrs. Ames had ever attempted, andmarched straight to the goal of social leadership, almost withoutinterference. She had apparently achieved other successes, too, ofthe first importance. She had secured the assistance of Ames himselfin matters pertaining to her finances; and the Beaubien wasactively coöperating with her in the social advancement of Carmen. It is true, she gasped whenever her thought wandered to her noteswhich the Beaubien held, notes which demanded every penny of herprincipal as collateral. And she often meditated very soberly overthe large sums which she had put into the purchase of Simití stock, at the whispered suggestions of Ames, and under the irresistiblypious and persuasive eloquence of Philip O. Ketchim, now presidentof that flourishing but as yet non-productive company. But then, oneday, an idea occurred to her, and she forthwith summoned Carmen intothe library. 

"You see, my dear, " she said, after expounding to the girl certain ofher thoughts anent the famous mine, "I do not want Mr. Ketchim to haveany claim upon you for the expense which he incurred on account ofyour six months in the Elwin school. That thought, as well as othersrelating to your complete protection, makes it seem advisable that youtransfer to me your share in the mine, or in the Simití company. See, I give you a receipt for the same, showing that you have done this aspart payment for the great expense to which I have been put inintroducing you to society and in providing for your wants here. It ismerely formal, of course. And it keeps your share still in ourfamily, of which you are and always will be a member; but yet removesall liability from you. Of course, you know nothing about businessmatters, and so you must trust me implicitly. Which I am sure you do, in view of what I have done for you, don't you, dear?"

Of course Carmen did; and of course she unhesitatingly transferred herclaim on La Libertad to the worthy Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. Whereupon thegood woman tenderly kissed the innocent child, and clasped a string ofrich pearls about the slender, white neck. And Carmen later told theBeaubien, who said nothing, but frowned darkly as she repeated thetidings over her private wire to J. Wilton Ames. But that priest offinance only chuckled and exclaimed: "Excellent, my dear! Couldn't bebetter! By the way, I had a cable from Lafelle this morning, fromCartagena. Oh, yes, everything's all right. Good-bye. " But theBeaubien hung up the receiver with a presentiment that everything wasfar from right, despite his bland assurance. And she regrettedbitterly now that she had not warned Carmen against this very thing. 

The Charity Ball that season was doubtless the most brilliant functionof its kind ever held among a people who deny the impossible. Thenewspapers had long vied with one another in their advertisements andpredictions; they afterward strove mightily to outdo themselves intheir vivid descriptions of the gorgeous _fête_. The decorativeeffects far excelled anything ever attempted in the name of"practical" charity. The display of gowns had never before been evenclosely approximated. The scintillations from jewels whose valuemounted into millions was like the continuous flash of the electricspark. And the huge assemblage embraced the very cream of thenobility, the aristocracy, the rich and exclusive caste of a greatpeople whose Constitution is founded on the equality of men, and whoare wont to gather thus annually for a few hours to parade theirmaterial vestments and divert their dispirited mentalities under theguise of benefaction to a class for whom they rarely hold a lovingthought. 

Again the subtle Mrs. Hawley-Crowles had planned and executed a _coup_. Mrs. Ames had subscribed the munificent sum of twenty-five thousanddollars to charity a week before the ball. Mrs. Hawley-Crowles hadwaited for this. Then she gloated as she telephoned to the variousnewspaper offices that her subscription would be fifty thousand. Didshe give a new note to the Beaubien for this amount? That shedid--and she obtained the money on the condition that the little Incaprincess should lead the grand march. Of course, Mrs. Hawley-Crowlesknew that she must gracefully yield first place to the South Americangirl; and yet she contrived to score a triumph in apparent defeat. For, stung beyond endurance, Mrs. Ames and her daughter Kathleen at thelast moment refused to attend the function, alleging fatigue from aseason unusually exacting. The wily Mrs. Hawley-Crowles hadpreviously secured the languid young Duke of Altern as a partner forCarmen--and then was most agreeably thwarted by Ames himself, who, learning that his wife and daughter would not attend, abruptlyannounced that he himself would lead the march with Carmen. 

Why not? Was it not quite proper that the city's leading man offinance should, in the absence of his wife and daughter, and withtheir full and gratuitous permission--nay, at their urgent request, soit was told--lead with this fair young damsel, this tropical flower, who, as rumor had it, was doubtless a descendant of the royal dwellersin ancient Cuzco?

"Quite proper, _O tempora, O mores_!" murmured one Amos A. Hitt, erstwhile Presbyterian divine, explorer, and gentleman of leisure, ashe settled back in his armchair in the fashionable Weltmore apartmentsand exhaled a long stream of tobacco smoke through his wide nostrils. "And, if I can procure a ticket, I shall give myself the pleasure ofwitnessing this sacred spectacle, produced under the deceptive mask ofcharity, " he added. 

In vain the Beaubien labored with Ames when she learned of hisintention--though she said nothing to Carmen. Ames had yielded to herpreviously expressed wish that he refrain from calling at theHawley-Crowles mansion, or attempting to force his attentions upon theyoung girl. But in this matter he remained characteristicallyobdurate. And thereby a little rift was started. For the angryBeaubien, striving to shield the innocent girl, had vented herabundant wrath upon the affable Ames, and had concluded herdenunciation with a hint of possible exposure of certain dark facts ofwhich she was sole custodian. Ames smiled, bowed, and courteouslykissed her hand, as he left her stormy presence; but he did not yield. And Carmen went to the Ball. 

Through the perfumed air and the garish light tore the crashing notesof the great band. The loud hum of voices ceased, and all eyes turnedto the leaders of the grand march, as they stepped forth at one end ofthe great auditorium. Then an involuntary murmur arose from themultitude--a murmur of admiration, of astonishment, of envy. Thegigantic form of Ames stood like a towering pillar, the embodiment ofpotential force, the epitome of human power, physical and mental. Hismassive shoulders were thrown back as if in haughty defiance ofcomment, critical or commendatory. The smile which flitted about hisstrong, clean-shaven face bespoke the same caution as the gentleuplifting of a tiger's paw--behind it lay all that was humanlyterrible, cunning, heartless, and yet, in a sense, fascinating. Histhick, brown hair, scarcely touched with gray, lay about his greathead like a lion's mane. He raised a hand and gently pushed it backover the lofty brow. Then he bent and offered an arm to the slenderwisp of a girl at his side. 

"Good God!" murmured a tall, angular man in the crowd. "Who is she?"

"I don't know, Hitt, " replied the friend addressed. "But they say shebelongs to the Inca race. "

The graceful girl moving by the side of her giant escort seemed like aslender ray of light, a radiant, elfish form, transparent, intangible, gliding softly along with a huge, black shadow. She was simply clad, all in white. About her neck hung a string of pearls, and at her waistshe wore the rare orchids which Ames had sent her that afternoon. Butno one saw her dress. No one marked the pure simplicity of her attire. The absence of sparkling jewels and resplendent raiment evoked nocomment. The multitude saw but her wonderful face; her big eyes, uplifted in trustful innocence to the massive form at her side; herrich brown hair, which glittered like string-gold in the strong lightthat fell in torrents upon it. 

"Hitt, she isn't human! There's a nimbus about her head!"

"I could almost believe it, " whispered that gentleman, straining hislong neck as she passed before him. "God! has she fallen into Ames'snet?"

Immediately behind Carmen and Ames strode the enraptured Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, who saw not, neither heard, and who longed for nofurther taste of heaven than this stupendous triumph which she had wonfor herself and the girl. Her heavy, unshapely form was squeezed intoa marvelous costume of gold brocade. A double ballet ruffle of stiffwhite tulle encircled it about the hips as a drapery. The bodice wasof heavy gold net. A pleated band of pale moire, in a delicate shadeof pink, crossed the left shoulder and was caught at the waist in alarge rose bow, ambassadorial style. A double necklace of diamonds, one bearing a great pendant of emeralds, and the other an alternationof emeralds and diamonds, encircled her short, thick neck. A diamondcoronet fitted well around her wonderful amber-colored wig--for, trueto her determination, she had anticipated the now _passée_ Mrs. Amesand had boldly launched the innovation of colored wigs among the smartset. An ivory, hand-painted fan, of great value, dangled from herthick wrist. And, as she lifted her skirts to an unnecessary height, the gaping people caught the glitter of a row of diamonds in eachhigh, gilded heel. 

At her side the young Duke of Altern shuffled, his long, thin bodycurved like a kangaroo, and his monocle bent superciliously upon themass of common clay about him. "Aw, beastly crush, ye know, " hemurmured from time to time to the unhearing dame at his right. Andthen, as she replied not, he fell to wondering if she fully realizedwho he was. 

Around and across the great hall the gorgeous pageant swept. Thebig-mouthed horns bellowed forth their noisy harmony. In the distantcorridors great illuminated fountains softly plashed. At the tablesbeyond, sedulous, touting waiters were hurriedly extracting corks fromfrosted bottle necks. The rare porcelain and cut glass shone andglittered in rainbow tints. The revelers waxed increasingly merry andcare-free as they lightly discussed poverty over rich viands andsparkling Burgundy. Still further beyond, the massive oak doors, withtheir leaded-glass panes, shut out the dark night and the bitterblasts of winter. And they shut out, too, another, but none the lessunreal, externalization of the mortal thought which has foundexpression in a social system "too wicked for a smile. "

"God, no--I'd get arrested! I can't!"

The frail, hungry woman who stood before the great doors clutched herwretched shawl closer about her thin shoulders. Her teeth chattered asshe stood shivering in the chill wind. Then she hurried away. 

At the corner of the building the cold blast almost swept her off herfeet. A man, dirty and unkempt, who had been waiting in an alley, ranout and seized her. 

"I say, Jude, ain't ye goin' in? Git arrested--ye'd spend the night ina warm cell, an' that's better'n our bunk, ain't it?"

"I'm goin' to French Lucy's, " the woman whispered hoarsely. "I'm deadbeat!"

"Huh! Ye've lost yer looks, Jude, an' ol' Lucy ain't a-goin' to takeye in. We gotta snipe somepin quick--or starve! Look, we'll go down toMike's place, an' then come back here when it's out, and ye kin pincha string, or somepin, eh? Gawd, it's cold!"

The woman glanced back at the lights. For a moment she stood listeningto the music from within. A sob shook her, and she began to coughviolently. The man took her arm, not unkindly; and together they movedaway into the night. 

 * * * * *

"Well, little girl, at last we are alone. Now we can exchangeconfidences. " It was Ames talking. He had, late in the evening, secured seats well hidden behind a mass of palms, and thither had ledCarmen. "What do you think of it all? Quite a show, eh? Ever seeanything like this in Simití?"

Carmen looked up at him. She thought him wonderfully handsome. She wasglad to get away for a moment from the crowd, from the confusion, andfrom the unwelcome attentions of the now thoroughly smitten young Dukeof Altern. 

"No, " she finally made answer, "I didn't know there were such thingsin the world. "

Ames laughed pleasantly. How refreshing was this ingenuous girl! Andwhat a discovery for him! A new toy--one that would last a long time. But he must be careful of her. 

"Yes, " he went on genially, "I'll wager there's millions of dollars'worth of jewelry here to-night. "

"Oh!" gasped Carmen. "And are the people going to sell it and give themoney to the poor?"

"Sell it! Ha! ha! Well, I should say not!"

"But--this is a--a charity--"

"Oh, I see. Quite so. No, it's the money derived from the sale oftickets that goes to the poor. "

"And how much is that?"

"I haven't the slightest idea. "

"But--aren't you interested in the poor?"

"Of course, of course, " he hastened to assure her, in his easy casualtone. 

For a long time the girl sat reflecting, while he studied her, speculating eagerly on her next remark. Then it came abruptly:

"Mr. Ames, I have thought a great deal about it, and I think youpeople by your charity, such as this, only make more charitynecessary. Why don't you do away with poverty altogether?"

"Do away with it? Well, that's quite impossible, you know. 'The poorye have always with you', eh? You see, I know my Bible. "

She threw him a glance of astonishment. He was mocking her! She wasdeeply serious, for charity to her meant love, and love was all inall. 

"No, " she finally replied, shaking her head, "you do _not_ know yourBible. It is the poor thought that you have always with you, thethought of separation from good. And that thought becomes manifestedoutwardly in what is called poverty. "

He regarded her quizzically, while a smile played about his mouth. 

"Why don't you get at the very root of the trouble, and destroy thepoverty-thought, the thought that there can be any separation fromGod, who is infinite good?" she continued earnestly. 

"Well, my dear girl, as for me, I don't know anything about God. Asfor you, well, you are very innocent in worldly matters. Poverty, likedeath, is inevitable, you know. "

"You are mistaken, " she said simply. "Neither is inevitable. "

"Well, well, " he returned brightly, "that's good news! Then there isno such thing as 'the survival of the fittest, ' and the weak needn'tnecessarily sink, eh?"

She looked him squarely in the eyes. "Do you consider, Mr. Ames, thatyou have survived as one of the fittest?"

"H'm! Well, now--what would you say about that?"

"I should say decidedly no, " was the blunt reply. 

A dark shade crossed his face, and he bit his lip. People did notgenerally talk thus to him. And yet--this wisp of a girl! Pshaw! Shewas very amusing. And, heavens above! how beautiful, as she sat therebeside him, her head erect, and her face delicately flushed. Hereached over and took her hand. Instantly she drew it away. 

"You are the kind, " she went on, "who give money to the poor, and thentake it away from them again. All the money which these rich peoplehere to-night are giving to charity has been wrested from the poor. And you give only a part of it back to them, at that. This Ball isjust a show, a show of dress and jewels. Why, it only sets an examplewhich makes others unhappy, envious, and discontented. Don't you seethat? You ought to. "

"My dear little girl, " he said in a patronizing tone, "don't you thinkyou are assuming a great deal? I'm sure I'm not half so bad as youpaint me. "

Carmen smiled. "Well, the money you give away has got to come fromsome source, hasn't it? And you manipulate the stock market and putthrough wheat corners and all that, and catch the poor people and taketheir money from them! Charity is love. But your idea of charity makesme pity you. Up here I find a man can pile up hundreds of millions bystifling competition, by debauching legislatures, by piracy andlegalized theft, and then give a tenth of it to found a university, and so atone for his crimes. That is called charity. Oh, I know a lotabout such things! I've been studying and thinking a great deal sinceI came to the United States. "

"Have you come with a mission?" he bantered. And there was a touch ofaspersion in his voice. 

"I've come with a message, " she replied eagerly. 

"Well, " he said sharply, "let me warn and advise you: don't join theranks of the muck-rakers, as most ambitious reformers with messagesdo. We've plenty of 'em now. I can tear down as easily as you oranybody else. But to build something better is entirely anothermatter. "

"But, Mr. Ames, I've got something better!"

"Yes?" His tone spoke incredulous irony. "Well, what is it, if I mayask?"

"Love. "

"Love, eh? Well, perhaps that's so, " he said, bending toward her andagain attempting to take her hand. 

"I guess, " she said, drawing back quickly, "you don't know what loveis, do you?"

"No, " he whispered softly. "I don't really believe I do. Will youteach me?"

"Of course I will, " she said brightly. "But you'll have to live it. And you'll have to do just as I tell you, " holding up an admonitoryfinger. 

"I'm yours to command, little woman, " he returned in mock seriousness. 

"Well, " she began very softly, "you must first learn that love is justas much a principle as the Binomial Theorem in algebra. Do you knowwhat that is? And you must apply it just as you would apply anyprinciple, to everything. And, oh, it is important!"

"You sweet little thing, " he murmured absently, gazing down into herglowing face. "Who taught you such stuff? Where did you learn it? Iwonder--I wonder if you really are a daughter of the Incas. "

She leaned back and laughed heartily. "Yes, " she said, "I am aprincess. Of course! Don't I look like one?"

"You look like--I wonder--pshaw!" he passed his hand across his eyes. "Yes, you certainly are a princess. And--do you know?--I wish I mightbe your prince. "

"Oh, you couldn't! Padre Josè has that honor. " But then her brightsmile faded, and she looked off wistfully down the long corridor. 

"Who is he?" demanded Ames savagely. "I'll send him a challengeto-night!"

"No, " she murmured gently, "you can't. He's way down in Simití. And, oh, he was so good to me! He made me leave that country on account ofthe war. "

The man started slightly. This innocent girl little knew that one ofthe instigators of that bloody revolution sat there beside her. Then anew thought flashed into his brain. "What is the full name of thispriest?" he suddenly asked. 

"Josè--Josè de Rincón, " she whispered reverently. 

Josè de Rincón--of Simití--whom Wenceslas had made the scapegoat ofthe revolution! Why, yes, that was the man! And who, according to arecent report from Wenceslas, had been arrested and--

"A--a--where did you say this--this Josè was, little girl?" he askedgently. 

"In Simití, " she replied. "He is working out his problem. "

His eyes shifted quickly from hers. But he could not hold them away. 

"His problem?"

"Yes. You know, he never was a priest at heart. But, though he saw thetruth, in part, he was not able to prove it enough to set himselffree; and so when I came away he stayed behind to work out hisproblem. And he will work it all out, " she mused abstractedly, lookingoff into the distance; "he will work it all out and come--to me. Iam--I am working with him, now--and for him. And--" her voice droppedto a whisper, "I love him, oh, so much!"

Ames's steely eyes narrowed. His mouth opened; then shut again with asharp snap. That beautiful creature now belonged to him, and to noneother! Were there other claimants, he would crush them without mercy!As for this apostate priest, Josè--humph! if he still lived he shouldrot the rest of his days in the reeking dungeons of San Fernando!

Carmen looked up. "When he comes to me, " she said softly, "we aregoing to give ourselves to the whole world. "

Ames appeared not to hear. 

"And--perhaps--perhaps, by that time, you will be--be--"

"Well?" snapped the man, irritated by the return of her thought tohimself. 

"Different, " finished the girl gently. 

"Humph! Different, eh?"

"Yes. Perhaps by that time you will--you will love everybody, " shemurmured. "Perhaps you won't go on piling up big mountains of moneythat you can't use, and that you won't let anybody else use. "

Ames frowned upon her. "Yes?" he said ironically. 

"You will know then that Jesus founded his great empire on love. Yourempire, you know, is human business. But you will find that suchempires crumble and fall. And yours will, like all the rest. "

"Say, " he exclaimed, turning full upon her and seeming to bear herdown by his tremendous personality, "you young and inexperiencedreformers might learn a few things, too, if your prejudices could besurmounted. Has it ever occurred to you that we men of business thinknot so much about accumulating money as about achieving success? Doyou suppose you could understand that money-making is but a side issuewith us?"

"Achieving success!" she echoed, looking wonderingly at him. "Well--are you--a success?"

He started to reply. Then he checked himself. A flush stole across hisface. Then his eyes narrowed. 

"Yes, " the girl went on, as if in quiet soliloquy, "I suppose youare--a tremendous worldly success. And this Ball--it is a splendidsuccess, too. Thousands of dollars will be raised for the poor. Andthen, next year, the same thing will have to be done again. Yourcharities cost you hundreds of millions every year up here. And, meantime, you rich men will go right on making more money at theexpense of your fellow-men--and you will give a little of it to thepoor when the next Charity Ball comes around. It's like a circle, isn't it?" she said, smiling queerly up at him. "It has no end, youknow. "

Ames had now decided to swallow his annoyance and meet the girl withthe lance of frivolity. "Yes, I guess that's so, " he began. "But ofcourse you will admit that the world is slowly getting better, andthat world-progress must of necessity be gradual. We can't reform allin a minute, can we?"

She shook her head. "I don't know how fast you might reform if youreally, sincerely tried. But I think it would be very fast. And ifyou, a great, big, powerful man, with the most wonderful opportunitiesin the world, should really try to be a success, why--well, I'm sureyou'd make very rapid progress, and help others like you by settingsuch a great example. For you are a wonderful man--you really are. "

Ames looked at her long and quizzically. What did the girl mean? Thenhe took her hand, this time without resistance. 

"Tell me, little girl--although I know there can be no doubt ofit--are you a success?"

She raised her luminous eyes to his. "Yes, " she replied simply. 

He let fall her hand in astonishment. "Well!" he ejaculated, "wouldyou mind telling me just why?"

She smiled up at him, and her sweet trustfulness drew his saggingheartstrings suddenly taut. 

"Because, " she said simply, "I strive every moment to 'acquire thatmind which was in Christ Jesus. '"

Silence fell upon them. From amusement to wonder, to irritation, toanger, then to astonishment, and a final approximation to somethingakin to reverent awe had been the swift course of the man's emotionsas he sat in this secluded nook beside this strange girl. Thepoisoned arrows of his worldly thought had broken one by one againstthe shield of her protecting faith. His badinage had returned toconfound himself. The desire to possess had utterly fled before theconviction that such thought was as wildly impossible as iniquitous. 

Then he suddenly became conscious that the little body beside him haddrawn closer--that it was pressing against him--that a little hand hadstolen gently into his--and that a soft voice, soft as the summerwinds that sigh among the roses, was floating to his ears. 

"To be really great is to be like that wonderful man, Jesus. It is toknow that through him the great Christ-principle worked and did thosethings which the world will not accept, because it thinks themmiracles. It is to know that God is love, and to act that knowledge. It is to know that love is the Christ-principle, and that it willdestroy every error, every discord, everything that is unlike itself. It is to yield your present false sense of happiness and good to thetrue sense of God as infinite good. It is to bring every thought intocaptivity to this Christ-principle, love. It is to stop looking atevil as a reality. It is to let go your hold on it, and let it fadeaway before the wonderful truth that God is everywhere, and that thereisn't anything apart from Him. Won't you try it? You will have to, some day. I have tried it. I know it's true. I've proved it. "

 * * * * *

How long they sat in the quiet that followed, neither knew. Then theman suffered himself to be led silently back to the ball room again. And when he had recovered and restored his worldly self, the brightlittle image was no longer at his side. 

"Stand here, Jude, an' when they begins to come out to their gasolinecarts grab anything ye can, an' git. I'll work over by the door. "

The shivering woman crept closer to the curb, and the man slouchedback against the wall close to the exit from which the revelers wouldsoon emerge. A distant clock over a jeweler's window chimed the hourof four. A moment later the door opened, and a lackey came out andloudly called the number of the Hawley-Crowles car. That ecstaticallyhappy woman, with Carmen and the obsequious young Duke of Altern, appeared behind him in the flood of light. 

As the big car drew softly up, the wretched creature whom the man hadcalled Jude darted from behind it and plunged full at Carmen. But thegirl had seen her coming, and she met her with outstretched arm. Theglare from the open door fell full upon them. 

"Jude!"

"God!" cried the woman. "It's the little kid!"

She turned to flee. Carmen held her. With a quick movement the girltore the string of pearls from her neck and thrust it into Jude'shand. The latter turned swiftly and darted into the blackness of thestreet. Then Carmen hurriedly entered the car, followed by herstupefied companions. It had all been done in a moment of time. 

"Good heavens!" cried Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, when she had recovered hercomposure sufficiently to speak. "What does this mean? What did youdo?"

But Carmen replied not. And the Duke of Altern rubbed his weak eyesand tried hard to think. 

CHAPTER 16

Before Mrs. Hawley-Crowles sought her bed that morning the east wasred with the winter sun. "The loss of the pearls is bad enough, " sheexclaimed in conclusion, glowering over the young girl who sat beforeher, "for I paid a good three thousand for the string! But, inaddition, to scandalize me before the world--oh, how could you? Andthis unspeakable Jude--and that awful house--heavens, girl! Who wouldbelieve your story if it should get out?" The worried woman's face wasbathed in cold perspiration. 

"But--she saved me from--from that place, " protested the harassedCarmen. "She was poor and cold--I could see that. Why should I havethings that I don't need when others are starving?"

Mrs. Hawley-Crowles shook her weary head in despair. Her sister, Mrs. Reed, who had sat fixing the girl with her cold eyes throughout thestormy interview following their return from the ball, now offered asuggestion. "The thing to do is to telephone immediately to all thenewspapers, and say that her beads were stolen last night. "

"But they weren't stolen, " asserted the girl. "I gave them to her--"

"Go to your room!" commanded Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, at the limit of herendurance. "And never, under any circumstances, speak of this affairto any one--never!"

The social crown, which had rested none too securely upon the gildedwig of the dynamic Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, had been given a jolt that setit tottering. 

 * * * * *

It was very clear to Mrs. J. Wilton Ames after the Charity Ball thatshe was engaged in a warfare to the death, and with the mostrelentless of enemies. Nothing short of the miraculous could nowdethrone the detested Mrs. Hawley-Crowles and her beautiful, mysterious ward. She dolefully acknowledged to herself and to thesulking Kathleen that she had been asleep, that she had let her footslip, and that her own husband's conduct in leading the grand marchwith Carmen bade fair to give the _coup de grâce_ to a social prestigewhich for many weeks had been decidedly on the wane. 

"Mamma, we'll have to think up some new stunts, " said the dejectedKathleen over the teacups the noon following the ball. "Why, they'veeven broken into the front page of the newspapers with a fake jewelrytheft! Look, they pretend that the little minx was robbed of herstring of pearls last night on leaving the hall. I call that prettycheap notoriety!"

Mrs. Ames's lip curled in disdain as she read the news item. "An Incaprincess, indeed! Nobody knows who she is, nor what! Why doesn'tsomebody take the trouble to investigate her? They'd probably find heran outcast. "

"Couldn't papa look her up?" suggested Kathleen. 

Mrs. Ames did not reply. She had no wish to discuss her husband, afterthe affair of the previous evening. And, even in disregard of that, she would not have gone to him with the matter. For she and herconsort, though living under the same roof, nevertheless saw eachother but seldom. At times they met in the household elevator; and forthe sake of appearances they managed to dine together with Kathleen ina strained, unnatural way two or three times a week, at which times nomention was ever made of the son who had been driven from the parentalroof. There were no exchanges of confidences or affection, and Mrs. Ames knew but little of the working of his mentality. She was whollyunder the dominance of her masterful husband, merely an accessory tohis mode of existence. He used her, as he did countless others, tobuttress a certain side of his very complex life. As for assistance indetermining Carmen's status, there was none to be obtained from him, strongly attracted by the young girl as he had already shown himselfto be. Indeed, she might be grateful if the attachment did not lead tofar unhappier consequences!

"Larry Beers said yesterday that he had something new, " she repliedirrelevantly to Kathleen's question. "He has in tow a Persian dervish, who sticks knives through his mouth, and drinks melted lead, and bitesred-hot pokers, and a lot of such things. Larry says he's the mostwonderful he's ever seen, and I'm going to have him and a real Hindu_swami_ for next Wednesday evening. "

New York's conspicuous set indeed would have languished often but forthe social buffoonery of the clever Larry Beers, who devised newdiversions and stimulating mental condiments for the jaded brains ofthat gilded cult. His table ballets, his bizarre parlor circuses, hiscunningly devised fads in which he set forth his own inimitableantics, won him the motley and the cap and bells of this tinseledcourt, and forced him well out into the glare of publicity, which waswhat he so much desired. 

And by that much it made him as dangerous as any stupid anarchist whotoils by candle-light over his crude bombs. For by it he taught thegreat mass of citizenship who still retained their simple ideals ofreason and respect that there existed a social caste, worshipers ofthe golden calf, to whom the simple, humdrum virtues were quiteunendurable, and who, utterly devoid of conscience, would quaffchampagne and dance on the raw, quivering hearts of their fellow-menwith glee, if thereby their jaded appetites for novelty andentertainment might be for the moment appeased. 

And so Larry Beers brought his _swami_ and dervish to the Amesmansion, and caused his hostess to be well advertised in thenewspapers the following day. And he caused the eyes of Carmen tobulge, and her thought to swell with wonder, as she gazed. And hecaused the bepowdered nose of Mrs. Hawley-Crowles to stand a bitcloser to the perpendicular, while she sat devising schemes to cast ashade over this clumsy entertainment. 

The chief result was that, a week later, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, stillrunning true to form, retorted with a superb imitation of the French_Bal de l'Opéra_, once so notable under the Empire. The Beaubien hadfurnished the inspiring idea--and the hard cash. 

"I wonder why I do it?" that woman had meditated. "Why do I continueto lend her money and take her notes? I wanted to ruin her, at first. I don't--I don't seem to feel that way now. Is it because of Carmen?Or is it because I hate that Ames woman so? I wonder if I do stillhate her? At any rate I'm glad to see Carmen oust the proud hussy fromher place. It's worth all I've spent, even if I burn the notes I holdagainst Jim Crowles's widow. "

And often after that, when at night the Beaubien had sought her bed, she would lie for hours in the dim light meditating, wondering. "It'sCarmen!" she would always conclude. "It's Carmen. She's making me overagain. I'm not the same woman I was when she came into my life. Oh, God bless her--if there is a God!"

The mock _Bal de l'Opéra_ was a magnificent _fête_. All the members ofthe smart set were present, and many appeared in costumes representingflowers, birds, and vegetables. Carmen went as a white rose; and hergreat natural beauty, set off by an exquisite costume, made her thefairest flower of the whole garden. The Duke of Altern, costumed as along carrot, fawned in her wake throughout the evening. The tubbilygirthy Gannette, dressed to represent a cabbage, opposed her everystep as he bobbed before her, showering his viscous compliments uponthe graceful creature. Kathleen Ames appeared as a bluebird; and shewould have picked the fair white rose to pieces if she could, sowildly jealous did she become at the sight of Carmen's furthertriumph. 

About midnight, when the revelry was at its height, a door at the endof the hall swung open, and a strong searchlight was turned full uponit. The orchestra burst into the wailing dead march from _Saul_, andout through the glare of light stalked the giant form of J. WiltonAmes, gowned in dead black to represent a King Vulture, and with ablood-red fez surmounting his cruel mask. As he stepped out upon theplatform which had been constructed to represent the famous bridge in"_Sumurun_, " and strode toward the main floor, a murmur involuntarilyrose from the assemblage. It was a murmur of awe, of horror, of fear. The "_monstrum horrendum_" of Poe was descending upon them in the garbwhich alone could fully typify the character of the man! When hereached the end of the bridge the huge creature stopped and distendedhis enormous sable wings. 

"Good God!" cried Gannette, as he thought of his tremendous financialobligations to Ames. 

Carmen shuddered and turned away from the awful spectacle. "I want togo, " she said to the petrified Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, who had knownnothing of this feature of the program. 

Straight to the trembling, white-clad girl the great, black vulturestalked. The revelers fell away from him on either side as heapproached. Carmen turned again and watched him come. Her face wasashen. "God is everywhere, " she murmured. 

Then her anxious look faded. A light came into her eyes, and a smilewreathed her mouth. And when Ames reached her and extended his huge, black wings again, she walked straight into them with a look of joyupon her beautiful face. Then the wings closed and completely hid thefair, white form from the gaping crowd. 

For a few moments dead silence reigned throughout the hall. Then theorchestra crashed, the vulture's wings slowly opened, and the girl, who would have gone to the stake with the same incomprehensible smile, stepped out. The black monster turned and strode silently, ominously, back to the end of the hall, crossed the bridge, and disappearedthrough the door which opened at his approach. 

"I'm going home!" said the shaken Gannette to his perspiring wife. "That looks bad to me! That girl's done for; and Ames has taken thisway to publicly announce the fact! My God!"

There was another astonished watcher in the audience that evening. Itwas the eminent Monsignor Lafelle, recently back from Europe by way ofthe West Indies. And after the episode just related, he approachedCarmen and Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. 

"A very clever, if startling, performance, " he commented; "and withtwo superb actors, Mr. Ames and our little friend here, " bowing overCarmen's hand. 

"I am _so_ glad you could accept our invitation, Monsignor. But, dear me! I haven't got my breath yet, " panted the steaming Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. "Do take us, Monsignor, to the refectory. I feelfaint. "

A few moments later, over their iced drinks, Lafelle was relatingvivid incidents of his recent travels, and odd bits of news fromCartagena. "No, Miss Carmen, " he said, in reply to her anxiousinquiries, "I did not meet the persons you have mentioned. And as forgetting up the Magdalena river, it would have been quite impossible. Dismiss from your mind all thought of going down there now. Cartagenais tense with apprehension. The inland country is seething. And thelittle town of Simití which you mention, I doubt not it is quite shutoff from the world by the war. "

Carmen turned aside that he might not see the tears which welled intoher eyes. 

"Your entertainment, Madam, " continued Lafelle, addressing the nowrecovered Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, "is superb, as have been all of yoursocial projects this winter, I learn. The thought which you expressedto me some months ago regarding Catholic activity in social matterscertainly was well founded. I perceive that our Protestant rivals haveall but retired from the field. "

Mrs. Hawley-Crowles swelled with pride. Carmen regarded the churchmanwith wonder. 

"And have you not found a sense of peace, of satisfaction and comfort, since you united with the true Church?" Lafelle went on. "Are you notat last at rest?"

"Quite so, " sighed the lady, though the sigh was scarcely one ofunalloyed relief. 

Lafelle turned to Carmen. "And our little friend here--can she stillremain an alien, now that she has some knowledge of her indebtednessto the Church?"

Carmen looked blank. "My indebtedness to the Church!" she repeated. "Why--"

It was now Lafelle's turn to sigh, as he directed himself again toMrs. Hawley-Crowles. "She does not see, Madam, that it was by theladder of Holy Church that she mounted to her present enviable socialheight. "

"But--what--what do you mean?" stammered the bewildered girl. 

"May I not come and explain it to her?" said Lafelle. Then he suddenlythought of his last conversation with the Beaubien. But he shruggedhis shoulders, and a defiant look sat upon his features. 

Mrs. Hawley-Crowles dared not refuse the request. She knew she was nowtoo deeply enmeshed for resistance, and that Lafelle's control overher was complete--unless she dared to face social and financial ruin. And under that thought she paled and grew faint, for it raised thecurtain upon chaos and black night. 

"Would it be convenient for me to call to-morrow afternoon?" continuedthe churchman. 

"Certainly, " murmured Mrs. Hawley-Crowles in a scarcely audiblevoice. 

"By the way, " Lafelle said, suddenly turning the conversation, "how, may I ask, is our friend, Madam Beaubien?"

Mrs. Hawley-Crowles again trembled slightly. "I--I have not seen hermuch of late, Monsignor, " she said feebly. 

"A strong and very liberal-minded woman, " returned Lafelle withemphasis. "I trust, as your spiritual adviser, Madam, I may expressthe hope that you are in no way influenced by her. "

"Sir!" cried Carmen, who had bounded to her feet, her eyes ablaze, "Madam Beaubien is a noble woman!"

"My dear child!" Lafelle grasped her hand and drew her back into herchair. "You misunderstand me, quite. Madam Beaubien is a very dearfriend of ours, and we greatly admire her strength of character. Shecertainly does not require your defense! Dear! dear! you quitestartled me. "

A few moments later he rose and offered his arms to his companions tolead them back to the hall. Delivering Carmen into the charge of theeagerly waiting Duke of Altern, Lafelle remarked, as he took leave ofMrs. Hawley-Crowles, "I trust you will permit me to talk with yourbeautiful ward to-morrow afternoon--alone. " And when the ladyinterpreted the significance of his look, her heart beat rapidly, asshe bowed her acknowledgment of abject submission. 

"Bah Jove!" ejaculated the young Duke, clutching Carmen. "Ye know, Iwas deucedly afraid you had gone home, or that Uncle Wilton had you. Ye know, I think I'm jealous of him!"

Carmen laughed merrily at the fellow. His grotesque costume made himappear still more ridiculous. 

"It's nothing to laugh at, Miss Carmen! It's a bally bore to have aregular mountain like him always getting in the way; and to-night Ijust made up my mind I wouldn't stand it any longer, bah Jove! I say, come on!"

He fixed his monocle savagely in his eye and strode rapidly towardthe refreshment hall. Carmen went in silence. She heard his murmur ofgratification when his gaze lighted upon the chairs and table whichhe had evidently arranged previously in anticipation of this_tête-à-tête_. 

"Ye know, " he finally began, after they were seated and he had satsome minutes staring at the girl, "ye know, you're deucedly clevah, Miss Carmen! I told mother so to-day, and this time she had to agree. And that about your being an Inca princess--ye know, I could see thatfrom the very first day I met you. Mighty romantic, and all that, don't ye know!"

"Indeed, yes!" replied the girl, her thought drifting back to distantSimití. 

"And all about that mine you own in South America--and Mrs. Hawley-Crowles making you her heiress--and all that--bah Jove!It's--it's romantic, I tell you!" His head continued to nod emphasisto his thought long after he finished speaking. 

"Ye know, " he finally resumed, drawing a gold-crested case from apocket and lighting a monogrammed cigarette, "a fellow can always tellanother who is--well, who belongs to the aristocracy. Mrs. Ames, yeknow, said she had some suspicions about you. But I could see rightoff that it was because she was jealous. Mother and I knew what youwere the minute we clapped eyes on you. That's because we belong tothe nobility, ye know. "

He smoked in silence for some moments. Carmen was far, far away. 

"Bah Jove, Miss Carmen, I'm going to say it!" he suddenly blurted. "Mother wanted me to marry Lord Cragmont's filly; but, bah Jove, Isay, I'm going to marry you!"

Carmen now heard, and she quickly sat up, her eyes wide and staring. "Marry me!" she exclaimed. 

"Yes, " he went on. "Oh, it's all right. You're a princess, ye know, and so you're in our class. I'm not one of the kind that hands out atitle to the red-nosed daughter of any American pork packer just toget her money. Not me! The girl I marry has got to be my equal. "

"Oh!" murmured the astonished Carmen. 

"It's all right for you to have money, of course. I won't marry apauper, even if she's a duchess. But you and I, Miss Carmen, are justsuited to each other--wealth and nobility on each side. I've gotthirty thousand good British acres in my own right, bah Jove!"

By now Carmen had fully recovered from her surprise. She reflected amoment, then determined to meet the absurd youth with the spirit oflevity which his audacity merited. "But, Reginald, " she said in mockseriousness, "though your father was a duke, how about your mother?Was she not just an ordinary American girl, a sister of plain Mrs. J. Wilton Ames? Where's the aristocracy there? Now on my side--"

"Now, Miss Carmen, " cried the boy petulantly, "can't you see that, bymarrying my father, my mother became ennobled? Bah Jove, you don'tunderstand! Were your parents both noble?"

"Indeed they were!" said Carmen. "They were both children of a king. "

"You don't say!" he whispered, leaning far over the table toward her. "Then we've simply _got_ to marry!"

"But, " protested the girl, "in my country people love those whom theymarry. I haven't heard a word of that from you. "

"Now, I say!" he exclaimed. "I was just getting round to that. It waslove that made me offer you my name and title!"

"Yes? Love of what?"

"Why--you--of course!"

She laughed musically. "My dear Reginald, you don't love me. It isyourself that you love. You are madly in love, it is true; but it iswith the young Duke of Altern. "

"See here, you can't talk to me that way, ye know!" he flared out. "Bah Jove, I'm offering to make you a duchess--and I love you, too, though you may not think it!"

"Of course you love me, Reginald, " said Carmen in gentle reply, nowrelinquishing her spirit of badinage; "and I love you. But I do notwish to marry you. "

The young man started under the shock and stared at her in utter lackof comprehension. Was it possible that this unknown girl was refusinghim, a duke? She must be mad!

"A--a--I don't get you, Miss Carmen, " he stammered. 

"Come, " she said, rising and holding out a hand. "Let's not talk aboutthis any more. We must go back to the hall. I do love you, Reginald, but not in the way that perhaps you would like. I love the real _you_;not the vain, foolish, self-adoring human concept, called the Duke ofAltern. And the love I feel for you will help you, oh, far more thanif I married you! Come. "

"But--Miss Carmen!" He stood before her with mouth open. 

"Yes, Reginald. "

"I--I expected we'd be engaged--I told mother--"

"Very well, Reginald, we are engaged. Engaged in handling this littleproblem that has presented itself to you. Do you see? And I will helpyou to solve it in the right way. For you need help. Reginald dear, Ididn't mean to treat your proposal so lightly. I am sorry. There, giveme your hand. We're just awfully good friends, aren't we? And I dolove you, more than you think. "

Leaving the bewildered youth in the hall, Carmen fell afoul of thevery conservative Mrs. Gannette, whose husband, suffering from a senseof nausea since the appearance of Ames as a King Vulture, had somemoments before summoned his car and driven to his favorite club toflood his apprehensions with Scotch high-balls. 

"Ah, little sly-boots!" piped Mrs. Gannette, shaking a finger atCarmen. "I saw you with Reginald just now. I'm awfully wise about suchthings. Tell me, dear, when shall we be able to call you the Duchessof Altern? You lucky girl!"

Carmen's spirits sank, as, without reply, she submitted to the banalboredom of this blustering dame's society gabble. Mrs. Gannette hookedher arm into the girl's and led her to a divan. "It's a great affair, isn't it?" she panted, settling her round, unshapely form out over theseat. "Dear me! I did intend to come in costume. Was coming as atomato. Ha! ha! Thought that was better adapted to my shape. But whenI got the cloth form around me, do you know, I couldn't get throughthe door! And my unlovely pig of a husband said if I came looking likethat he'd get a divorce. " The corpulent dame shook and wheezed withthe expression of her abundant merriment. 

"Well, " she continued, "it wasn't his threat that hindered me, goodness knows! A divorce would be a relief, after living forty yearswith him! Say, there goes young Doctor Worley. Speaking of divorce, he's just got one. It all came round through a joke. Billy Pattersondared him to exchange wives with him one evening when they were havinga little too much gaiety at the Worley home, and the doctor took thedare. Ha! ha! The men swapped wives for two days. What do you think ofthat! And this divorce was the result. But Billy took his wife back. He thought it was just a good joke. Kate Worley gets an alimony offifty thousand per. But the doctor can stand it. Why, he has apractice of not less than two hundred and fifty thousand a year!"

"I supposed, " murmured Carmen, "that amount of money is a measure ofhis ability, a proof of his great usefulness. "

"Nothing of the kind, " replied Mrs. Gannette. "He's simply in with thewealthy, that's all. Dear! dear! Do look at that fright over there!It's Lizzie Wall. Now isn't she simply hideous! Those diamonds arenothing but paste! The hussy!"

Carmen glanced at the pale, slender woman across the hall, seatedalone, and wearing a look of utter weariness. 

"I'd like to meet her, " she said, suddenly drawn by the woman's muteappeal for sympathy. 

"Don't do it!" hastily interposed Mrs. Gannette. "She's going to bedropped. Name's already on the black list. I don't know what Mrs. Hawley-Crowles was thinking of to invite her to-night! Her estate isbeing handled by Ames and Company, and J. Wilton says there won't bemuch left when it's settled--

"My goodness!" she exclaimed, abruptly flitting to another topic. "There goes Miss Tottle. Look at her skirt--flounced at the knees, andfull in the back so's to give a bustle effect. My! I wish I could weartogs cut that way--

"They say, my dear, " the garrulous old worldling prattled on, "thatnext season's styles will be very ultra. Butterfly idea, I hear. Hatssmall and round, like the heads of butterflies. Waists and jacketsvery full and quite loose in the back and shoulders, so's to give theappearance of wings. Belts, but no drawing in at the waist. Skirtsplaited, plaits opening wide at the knees and coming close togetheragain at the ankle, so's to look like the body of a butterfly. Thenbutterfly bows sprinkled all over. "

She paused for breath. Then she drew a long sigh. "Oh dear, " shelamented, "I'd give anything if I had a decent shape! I'd like to wearthose shimmering, flowing, transparent summer things over silk tights. But, mercy me! I'd look like a potato busted wide open. Now you canwear those X-ray dresses all right--

"Say, Kathleen Ames has a new French gown to wear to the Dog Show. Skirt slit clear to the knee, with diamond garter around the leg justbelow. How I'd look! I have a leg like a ham!"

Carmen heard little of this vapid talk, as she sat studying the palewoman across the hall. She had resolved to meet her just as soon asthe loquacious Mrs. Gannette should seek another victim. But thatgenial old gossip gave no present evidence of a desire to change. 

"I'm _so_ glad you're going to marry young Altern, " she said, againswerving the course of her conversation. "He's got a fine old ruinedcastle somewhere in England, and seems to have wads of money, though Ihear that everything is mortgaged to Ames. I wouldn't be surprised. Still, his bare title is worth something to an American girl. Besides, you've got money. And you'll do a lot for his family. You know--butdon't breathe a word of this!--his mother never was recognizedsocially in England, and she finally had to give up the fight. For awhile Ames backed her, but it wouldn't do. His millions couldn't buyher the court entrée, and she just had to quit. That's why she's overhere now. The old Duke--he was lots older than she--died a couple ofyears ago. Ran through everything and drank himself to death. Beforeand since that happy event the Duchess did everything under theheavens to get a bid to court. She gave millions to charity and toentertainments. She sacrificed everything. But, no sir! It wouldn'tdo. She had no royal blood. But with you it will be different. You'rea princess, royal Inca, and such like. You qualify right from thejump. So you see what you're expected to do for the Altern crowd--

"Dear! dear!" catching her breath and switching quickly to anothertheme, "have you heard about the Hairton scandal? It's simply rich!You see, young Sidney Ames--"

Carmen's patience had touched its limit. "Don't, please don't!" shebegged, holding out a hand. "I do not wish to hear it!"

Mrs. Gannette raised her lorgnette and looked at the girl. "Why, mydear! what's the matter? The scandal's about Ames's son, you know. Thereason he doesn't go in society. Just come to light. You see--"

"My dear Mrs. Gannette, " Carmen looked up at her with a beseechingsmile. "You wouldn't deliberately give me poison to drink, wouldyou?"

"Why, certainly not!" blustered that garrulous lady in astonishment. 

"Then why do you poison my mind with such conversation?"

"What!"

"You sit there pouring into my mentality thought after thought that isdeadly poisonous, don't you know it?"

"Why--!"

"You don't mean to harm me, I know, " pleaded the girl. "But if youonly understood mental laws you would know that every thought enteringone's mind tends to become manifested in some way. Thoughts ofdisease, disaster, death, scandal--all tend to become externalized indiscordant ways, either on the body, or in the environment. You don'twant any such things manifested to me, do you? But you might just aswell hand me poison to drink as to sit there and pour such deadlyconversation into me. "

Mrs. Gannette slowly drew herself up with the hauteur of a grandee. Carmen seized her hand. "I do not want to listen to these unrealthings which concern only the human mind, " she said earnestly. "Norshould you, if you are truly aristocratic, for aristocracy is of thethought. I am not going to marry Reginald. A human title means nothingto me. But one's thought--that alone is one's claim to _real_aristocracy. I know I have offended you, but only because I refuse tolet you poison me. Now I will go. "

She left the divan and the petrified dame, and hurriedly mingled withthe crowd on the floor. 

"The little cat!" exploded Mrs. Gannette, when she again foundherself. "She has mortally insulted me!"

Carmen went directly to the pale woman, still sitting alone, who hadbeen one of the objects of Mrs. Gannette's slighting remarks. Thewoman glanced up as she saw the girl approaching, and a look of wondercame into her eyes. Carmen held out a hand. 

"I am Carmen Ariza, " she said simply. "You are Miss Wall. I want youto be my friend. "

The woman roused up and tried to appear composed. 

"Will you ride with me to-morrow?" continued Carmen. "Then we can talkall we want to, with nobody to overhear. Aren't you happy?" sheabruptly added, unable longer to withstand the appeal which issuedmutely from the lusterless eyes before her. 

The woman smiled wanly. "Not so very, " she replied slowly. 

"Well!" exclaimed Carmen; "what's wrong?"

"I am poverty-stricken, " returned the woman sadly. 

"But I will give you money, " Carmen quickly replied. 

"My dear child, " said the woman, "I haven't anything but money. Thatis why I am poverty-stricken. "

"Oh!" the girl exclaimed, sinking into a chair at her side. "Well, "she added, brightening, "now you have me! And will you call me up, first thing in the morning, and arrange to ride with me? I want youto, so much!"

The woman's eyes grew moist. "Yes, " she murmured, "I will--gladly. "

In the small hours of the morning there were several heads tossing instubborn wakefulness on their pillows in various New York mansions. But Carmen's was not one of them. 

CHAPTER 17

On the morning following Mrs. Hawley-Crowles's very successfulimitation of the _Bal de l'Opéra_, Monsignor Lafelle paid an earlycall to the Ames _sanctum_. And the latter gentleman deemed the visitof sufficient importance to devote a full hour to his caller. When thechurchman rose to take his leave he reiterated:

"Our friend Wenceslas will undertake the matter for you, Mr. Ames, buton the conditions which I have named. But Rome must be communicatedwith, and the substance of her replies must be sent from Cartagena toyou, and your letters forwarded to her. That might take us into earlysummer. But there is no likelihood that Mr. Ketchim's engineers willmake any further attempt before that time to enter Colombia. Mr. Reedin still in California. Mr. Harris is in Denver, at his old home, youtell me. So we need look for no immediate move from them. "

"Quite satisfactory, Lafelle, " returned Ames genially. "In future, ifI can be of service to you, I am yours to command. Mr. Willett willhand you a check covering your traveling expenses on my behalf. "

When the door closed after Lafelle, Ames leaned back in his chair andgave himself up to a moment's reflection. "I wonder, " he mused, "Iwonder if the fellow has something up his sleeve that he didn't showme? He acted suspiciously. Perhaps he's getting a bit dangerous. Hemay know too much already. I'm going to drop him after this trap issprung. He's got Jim Crowles's widow all tied up, too. I wonder ifhe--by heaven! if he begins work on that girl I'll--"

He was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone bell. It wasGannette. "What?" shouted Ames, "you say the girl insulted yourwife last evening? I don't believe she could--Yes, yes, I mean, Idon't think she meant to--certainly not, no aspersion whateverintended--What? the girl will have to apologize?--Well! well--No, not in a thousand years!--Yes, I'll back her! And if your societyisn't good enough for her--and I don't think it is--why, I'll forma little coterie all by myself!"

He hung up the receiver with a slam. Then he angrily summoned Hodson. "I want a dozen brokers watching Gannette now until I call them off, "he commanded. "I want you to take personal charge of them. Dog hisevery move. I'll give you some suggestions later. "

Hodson bowed and went out. Ames continued his meditations. "Lucilealready has Gannette pretty well wound up in his Venezuelanspeculations--and they are going to smash--Lafelle has fixed that. AndI've bought her notes against Mrs. Hawley-Crowles for about amillion--which I have reinvested for her in Colombia. Humph! She'llfeed out of my hand now! La Libertad is mine when the trap falls. Sois C. And R. And that little upstart, Ketchim, goes to Sing Sing!"

He turned to the morning paper that lay upon his desk. "I don't likethe way the Colombian revolution drags, " he mused. "But certainly itcan't last much longer. And then--then--"

His thoughts wandered off into devious channels. "So Josè de Rincónis--well! well! Things have taken an odd turn. But--where on earth didthat girl come from? Lord! she was beautiful last night. All religion, eh? Ha! ha! Well, she's young. There's a lot of experience coming toher. And then she'll drop a few of her pious notions. Lucile says--butLucile is getting on my nerves!"

 * * * * *

Monsignor Lafelle found Mrs. Hawley-Crowles and her ward awaiting himwhen his car drove up at two that afternoon. Carmen had not left thehouse during the morning, for Elizabeth Wall had telephoned early thata slight indisposition would necessitate postponement of thecontemplated ride. 

"Well, " reflected Carmen, as she turned from the 'phone, "one whoknows that God is everywhere can never be disappointed, for all goodis ever present. " And then she set about preparing for the expectedcall of Monsignor Lafelle. 

When that dignitary entered the parlor Mrs. Hawley-Crowles graciouslywelcomed him, and then excused herself. "I will leave her with you, Monsignor, " she said, indicating Carmen, and secretly glad to escape apresence which she greatly feared. Lafelle bowed, and then wavedCarmen to a seat. 

"I have come to-day, Miss Carmen, " he began easily, "on a mission ofvastest importance as concerning your welfare. I have been inCartagena. I have talked with the acting-Bishop there, who, it seems, is not wholly unacquainted with you. "

"Then, " cried Carmen eagerly, "you know where Padre Josè is? And theothers--"

"No, " replied Lafelle. "I regret to say I know nothing of theirpresent whereabouts. Leave them with God. "

"I have long since done that, " said Carmen softly. 

"It is of yourself that I wish to speak, " continued Lafelle. "I havecome to offer you the consolation, the joy, and the protection of theChurch. Your great benefactress, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, has found peacewith us. Will you longer delay taking a step toward which you are byrace, by national custom, and by your Saviour admonished? I have cometo invite you to publicly confess your allegiance to the Church ofRome. You belong to us. A Catholic country gave you birth. Yourparents were Catholic. Your best friend, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, is oneof us. Come, " he said, extending his hands. "We need you. And you, mydaughter, now need the Church, " he added with suggestive emphasis. 

Carmen was not surprised. Mrs. Hawley-Crowles had hinted the probablemission of the churchman, and the girl was prepared. 

"I thank you, Monsignor, " she replied simply. "But it is impossible. "

"Impossible?" He arched his fine brows. "My child, it is quitenecessary!"

"Why, Monsignor?"

"For your eternal salvation, " he replied. 

"But I have my salvation, ever present. It is the Christ-principle. "

"My dear child, do not lean upon your pretty theories in the hope thatthey will open the door of heaven for you. There is no salvationoutside of the Church. "

"Monsignor, " said Carmen gently, "such talk is very foolish. Can youprove to me that your Church ever sent any one to heaven? Have you anybut a very mediaeval and material concept of heaven? To me, heaven isright here. It is the consciousness of good only, without a trace ofmateriality or evil. And I enter into that consciousness by means ofthe Christ-principle, which Jesus gave to the world. It is verysimple, is it not? And it makes all your pomp and ceremony, and yourpenance and rites quite unnecessary. "

Lafelle eyed her narrowly. He had certain suspicions, but he was notready to voice them. Carmen went on:

"Monsignor, I love my fellow-men, oh, _so_ much! I want to see everyone work out his salvation, as Jesus bade us all do, and without anyhindrance from others. And I ask but that same privilege from everyone, yourself included. Let me work out my salvation as my Father hasdirected. "

Lafelle smiled paternally. "I have no wish to hinder you, child. Onthe contrary, I offer you the assistance and infallible guidance ofthe Church. You are very young. We are very old. Beginning nineteencenturies ago, when we were divinely appointed custodian of theworld's morals, our history has been a glorious one. We have in thattime changed a pagan world into one that fears God and follows HisChrist. "

"But for nineteen hundred years, Monsignor, the various so-calledChristian sects of the world have been persecuting and slaying oneanother over their foolish beliefs, basing their religious theoriesupon their interpretations of the Bible. Surely that is not a glorioushistory!"

"Ah! You unwittingly argue directly for our cause, my child. Theresult which you have just cited proves conclusively that theScriptures can not be correctly interpreted by every one. That isperfectly patent to you, I see. Thus you acknowledge the necessity ofan infallible guide. That is to be found only in the spiritualFathers, and in the Pope, the holy Head of the Church of Rome, thepresent Vicegerent of Christ on earth. "

"Then your interpretation of the Bible is the only correct one?"

"Absolutely!"

"And you Catholics are the only true followers of Christ? The only_real_ Christians?"

"We are. "

She rose. "Come, Monsignor, I will get my coat and hat. We will takeyour car. "

"Why--where are you going?" he asked in amazement, as he slowly got tohis feet. 

She stopped and faced him squarely. "Jesus said: 'He that believeth onme, the works that I do shall he do also. ' I am going to take you overto the home of old Maggie, our cook's mother. She is sick. You willheal her, for you are a true follower of Christ. "

"Well--but, hasn't she a doctor?"

"Yes, but he can't help her. Doctors are not infallible. But yourepresent the Christ on earth. You should be able to do the workswhich he did. You can change the wafer and wine into the flesh andblood of Jesus. How much easier, then, and vastly more practical, tocure a sick woman! Wait, I will be back in a minute. "

"But, you impetuous child, I shall go on no such foolish errand asthat!"

She stopped again. "If the woman were dying or dead, and you weresummoned, you would go, would you not? For she is a Catholic. "

"Why--yes, of course. "

"And if she were dying you would put holy oil on her, and pray--but itwouldn't make her well. And if she were dead, you would say Masses forthe repose of her soul. Monsignor, did it never occur to you that thegreat works which you claim to do are all done behind the veil ofdeath? You can do but little for mankind here; but you pretend to domuch after they have passed beyond the grave. Is it quite fair to thepoor and ignorant, I ask, to work that way? Did it never strike you asremarkable and very consistent that Jesus, whenever he launched agreat truth, immediately ratified it by some great sign, some signwhich the world now calls a miracle? The Gospels are full of suchinstances, where he first taught, then came down and immediatelyhealed some one, thus at once putting his teaching to the proof. Doyou prove anything? Your Church has taught and thundered and denouncedfor ages, but what has it proved? Jesus taught practical Christianity. You teach the so-called practical Christianity which makes a realityof evil and an eternal necessity of hospitals and orphan asylums. Ifyou did his works the people would be so uplifted that these thingswould be wiped out. Your Church has had nineteen hundred years inwhich to learn to do the works which he did. Now come over to Maggie'swith me and prove that you are a true follower and believer, and thatthe Church has given you the right sort of practical instruction!"

Gradually the girl's voice waxed stronger while she delivered thispolemic. Slowly the churchman's face darkened, as he moved backwardand sank into his chair. 

"Now, Monsignor, having scolded you well, " the girl continued, smilingas she sat down again, "I will apologize. But you needed thescolding--you know you did! And nearly all who profess the name ofChrist need the same. Monsignor, I love you all, and every one, whether Catholic or Protestant, or whatever his creed. But that doesnot blind my eyes to your great need, and to your obstinate refusal tomake any effort to meet that need. "

A cynical look came into the man's face. "May I ask, Miss Carmen, ifyou consider yourself a true follower and believer?" he said coolly. 

"Monsignor, " she quickly replied, rising and facing him, "you hope bythat adroit question to confound me. You mean, do I heal the sick?Listen: when I was a child my purity of thought was such that I knewno evil. I could not see it anywhere. I could not see sickness ordeath as anything more than unreal shadows. And that wonderfulclearness of vision and purity of thought made me a channel for theoperation of the Christ-principle, God himself. And thereby the sickwere healed in my little home town. Then, little by little, after mybeloved teacher, Josè, came to me, I lost ground in my struggle tokeep the vision clear. They did not mean to, but he and my dearestpadre Rosendo and others held their beliefs of evil as a reality soconstantly before me that the vision became obscured, and thespirituality alloyed. The unreal forces of evil seemed to concentrateupon me. I know why now, for the greatest good always stirs up thegreatest amount of evil--the highest truth always has the lowest lieas its opposite and opponent. I see now, as never before, theunreality of evil. I see now, as never before, the marvelous truthwhich Jesus tried, oh, _so_ hard, to impress upon the dull minds ofhis people, the truth which you refuse to see. And ceaselessly I amnow striving to acquire 'that mind, ' that spiritual consciousness, which was in him. My vision is becoming daily clearer. I have beenwonderfully shielded, led, and cared for. And I shall heal, some day, as he did. I shall regain my former spirituality, for it has neverreally been lost. But, Monsignor, do not ask me to come into yourChurch and allow my brightening vision to become blurred by your veryinadequate concept of God--a God who is moved by the petitions ofSaints and Virgin and mortal men. No! no! Unless, " she added, brightening, "you will let me teach your Church what I know. Will youagree to that?"

Lafelle did not answer. Then Carmen shook her head. "You see, " shesaid, "your Church requires absolute submission to its age-wornauthority. According to you, I have nothing to give. Very well, ifyour Church can receive nothing from me, and yet can give me nothingmore than its impossible beliefs, undemonstrable this side of thegrave, at least--then we must consider that a gulf is fixed betweenus. 

"Oh, Monsignor, " she pleaded, after a moment's silence, "you see, doyou not? When Jesus said that he gave his disciples power over allevil, did he not mean likewise over all physical action, and overevery physical condition? But did he mean that they alone should havesuch power? What a limiting of infinite Love! No, he meant that everyone who followed him and strove ceaselessly for spirituality ofthought should acquire that spirituality, and thereby cleanse himselfof false beliefs, and make room for the Christ-principle to operate, even to the healing of the sick, to the raising of those mesmerized bythe belief of death as a power and reality, and to the dematerializingof the whole material concept of the heavens and earth. Can't you, achurchman, see it? And can't you see how shallow your views are? Don'tyou know that even the physical body is but a part of the human, material concept, and therefore a part of the 'one lie' about God, whois Spirit?"

Lafelle had listened patiently. But now his time had come to speak inrebuttal. And yet, he would make no attempt to assail her convictions. He knew well that she would not yield--at least, to-day. He thereforeplayed another card. 

"Miss Carmen, " he said gently, "the Church is ever doing beneficentdeeds which do not come to light, and for which she receives no praisefrom men. Your own and Mrs. Hawley-Crowles's elevation to socialleadership came through her. There is also a rumor that the Churchafforded you an asylum on your first night in this city, when, ifever, you needed aid. The Church shielded and cared for you even inSimití. Indeed, what has she not done for you? And do you now, alas!turn and rend her?"

"Monsignor, " replied Carmen, "I am not unmindful of the care alwaysbestowed upon me. And I am not ungrateful. But my gratitude is to myGod, who has worked through many channels to bless me. My account iswith Him. Leave it there, and fear not that I shall prove ungratefulto Him, to whom my every thought is consecrated. "

Lafelle bit his lip. Then he spoke low and earnestly, while he heldhis gaze fixed upon the girl's bright eyes. "Miss Carmen, if you knewthat the Church now afforded you the only refuge from the dangers thatthreaten, you would turn to her as a frightened child to its mother. "

"I fear nothing, Monsignor, " replied the girl, her face alight with asmile of complete confidence. "I am not the kind who may be driven byfear into acceptance of undemonstrable, unfounded theological beliefs. Fear has always been a terrible weapon in the hands of those who havesought to force their opinions upon their fellow-men. But it ispowerless to influence me. Fear, Monsignor, is sin. It causes men tomiss the mark. And it is time-honored. Indeed, according to the Bibleallegory, it began in the very garden of Eden, when poor, deceivedAdam confessed to God that he was afraid. If God was infinite then, asyou admit you believe Him to be now, who or what made Adam afraid?Whence came the imaginary power of fear? For, 'God hath not given usthe spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. 'God is love. And there is no fear in love. "

"But, surely, Miss Carmen, you will not stubbornly close your eyes tothreatening evil?"

"Monsignor, I close my eyes to all that is unlike God. He is everythingto me. I know nothing but Him and His perfect manifestation. "

Lafelle sat some moments in silence. The picture which he and theyoung girl formed was one of rare beauty and interest: he, weightedwith years, white of hair, but rugged of form, with strikinglyhandsome features and kindly eyes--she, a child, delicate, almostwraith-like, glowing with a beauty that was not of earth, and, thoughuntutored in the wiles of men, still holding at bay the sagaciousrepresentative of a crushing weight of authority which reached farback through the centuries, even to the Greek and Latin Fathers whoput their still unbroken seal upon the strange elaborations which theywove out of the simple words of the Nazarene. 

When the churchman again looked up and felt himself engulfed in theboundless love which emanated from that radiant, smiling girl, theresurged up within him a mighty impulse to go to her, to clasp her inhis arms, to fall at her feet and pray for even a mite of her own rarespirituality. The purpose which he had that morning formulated diedwithin him; the final card which he would have thrown lay crushed inhis hand. He rose and came and stood before her. 

"The people believe you a child of the ancient Incas, " he said slowly, taking her hand. "What if I should say that I know better?"

"I would say that you were right, Monsignor, " she replied gently, looking up into his face with a sweet smile. 

"Then you admit the identity of your father?"

"Yes, Monsignor. "

"Ah! And that is--?"

"God. "

The man bent for a moment over the little white hand, and thenimmediately left the house. 

CHAPTER 18

Monsignor Lafelle in his interview with Carmen had thrown out a hintof certain rumors regarding her; but the days passed, and the girlawoke not to their significance. Then, one morning, her attention wasattracted by a newspaper report of the farewell address of a youngpriest about to leave his flock. When she opened the paper and caughtsight of the news item she gave a little cry, and immediately forgotall else in her absorption in the closing words:

 "--and I have known no other ambition since the day that little waif from a distant land strayed into my life, lighting the dead lamp of my faith with the torch of her own flaming spirituality. She said she had a message for the people up here. Would to God she might know that her message had borne fruit!"

The newspaper slipped from the girl's hands to the floor. Her eyes, big and shining, stared straight before her. "And I will lead theblind by a way that they know not--" she murmured. 

The telephone rang. It was Miss Wall, ready now for the postponedride. Carmen clapped her hands and sang for joy as she summoned thecar and made her preparations. "We'll go over to his church, " she saidaloud. "We'll find him!" She hurried back to the newspaper to get theaddress of the church from which he had spoken the preceding day. "They will know where he is, " she said happily. "Oh, isn't it justwonderful!"

A few minutes later, with Miss Wall at her side, she was speeding tothe distant suburb where the little church was located. 

"We are going to find a priest, " she said simply. "Oh, you mustn't askme any questions! Mrs. Hawley-Crowles doesn't like to have me talkabout certain things, and so I can't tell you. "

Miss Wall glanced at her in wonder. But the happy, smiling countenancedisarmed suspicion. 

"Now tell me, " Carmen went on, "tell me about yourself. I'm amissionary, you know, " she added, thinking of Father Waite. 

"A missionary! Well, are you trying to convert the society world?"

"Yes, by Christianity--not by what the missionaries are now teachingin the name of Christianity. I'll tell you all about it some day. Nowtell me, why are you unhappy? Why is your life pitched in such a minorkey? Perhaps, together, we can change it to a major. "

Miss Wall could not help joining in the merry laugh. Then her facegrew serious. "I am unhappy, " she said, "because I have arrivednowhere. "

Carmen looked at her inquiringly. "Well, " she said, "that shows youare on the wrong track, doesn't it?"

"I'm tired of life--tired of everything, everybody!" Miss Wall sankback into the cushions with her lips pursed and her brow wrinkled. 

"No, you are not tired of life, " said Carmen quietly; "for you do notknow what life is. "

"No, I suppose not, " replied the weary woman. "Do you?" she askedabruptly. 

"Yes, it is God. "

"Oh, don't mention that name, nor quote Scripture to me!" cried thewoman, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "I've had that stuffpreached at me until it turned my stomach! I hope you are not anemotional, weepy religionist. Let's not talk about that subject. I'mheartily sick of it!"

"All right, " replied Carmen cheerily. "Padre Josè used to say--"

"Who's he?" demanded Miss Wall, somewhat curtly. 

"Oh, he is a priest--"

"A priest! Dear me! do you constantly associate with priests, and talkreligion?"

The young girl laughed. "Well, " she responded, "I've had a good dealto do with both. "

"And are you any better for it?"

"Oh, yes--lots!" she said quickly. 

The woman regarded her with curiosity. "Tell me something about yourlife, " she said. "They say you are a princess. "

"Surely I am a princess, " returned Carmen, laughing merrily. "Listen;I will tell you about big, glorious Simití, and the wonderful castle Ilived in there, and about my Prime Minister, Don Rosendo, and--well, listen, and then judge for yourself if I am not of royal extraction!"

Laughing again up into the mystified face of Miss Wall, theenthusiastic girl began to tell about her former life in far-offGuamocó. 

As she listened, the woman's eyes grew wide with interest. At timesshe voiced her astonishment in sudden exclamations. And when the girlconcluded her brief recital, she bent upon the sparkling face a lookof mingled wonder and admiration. "Goodness! After going through allthat, how can you be so happy now? And with all your kin down there inthat awful war! Why--!"

"Don't you think I am a princess now?" Carmen asked, smiling up ather. 

"I think you are a marvel!" was the emphatic answer. 

"And--you don't want to know what it was that kept me through it all, and that is still guiding me?" The bright, animated face looked soeagerly, so lovingly, into the world-scarred features of hercompanion. 

"Not if you are going to talk religion. Tell me, who is this priestyou are seeking to-day, and why have you come to see him?"

"Father Waite. He is the one who found me--when I got lost--and tookme to my friends. "

The big car whirled around a corner and stopped before a dingy littlechurch edifice surmounted by a weather-beaten cross. On the steps of amodest frame house adjoining stood a man. He turned as the car cameup. 

"Father Waite!" Carmen threw wide the door of the car and sprang out. "Father Waite!" clasping his hands. "Don't you know me? I'm Carmen!"

A light came into the startled man's eyes. He recognized her. Then hestepped back, that he might better see her. More than a year hadpassed since he had taken her, so oddly garbed, and clinging tightlyto his hand, into the Ketchim office. And in that time, he thought, she had been transformed into a vision of heavenly beauty. 

"Well!" cried the impatient girl. "Aren't you going to speak?" Andwith that she threw her arms about him and kissed him loudly on bothcheeks. 

The man and Miss Wall gave vent to exclamations of astonishment. Hecolored violently; Miss Wall sat with mouth agape. 

"Aren't you glad to see me?" pursued the girl, again grasping hishands. 

Then he found his tongue. "An angel from heaven could not be morewelcome, " he said. But his voice was low, and the note of sadness wasprominent. 

"Well, I am an angel from heaven, " said the laughing, artless girl. "And I'm an Inca princess. And I'm just plain Carmen Ariza. But, whoever I am, I am, oh, so glad to see you again! I--" she lookedabout carefully--"I read your sermon in the newspaper this morning. Did you mean me?" she concluded abruptly. 

He smiled wanly. "Yes, I meant you, " he softly answered. 

"Come with me now, " said the eager girl. "I want to talk with you. "

"Impossible, " he replied, shaking his head. 

"Then, will you come and see me?" She thought for a moment. "Why haveyou never been to see me? Didn't you know I was still in the city?"

"Oh, yes, " he replied. "I used to see your name in the papers, often. And I have followed your career with great interest. But--you moved ina circle--from which I--well, it was hardly possible for me to come tosee you, you know--"

"It was!" exclaimed the girl. "But, never mind, you are coming now. Here, " drawing a card from her bag, "this is the address of MadamBeaubien. Will you come there to-morrow afternoon, at two, and talkwith me?"

He looked at the card which she thrust into his hand, and then at therichly-gowned girl before him. He seemed to be in a dream. But henodded his head slowly. 

"Tell me, " she whispered, "how is Sister Katie?"

Ah, if the girl could have known how that great-hearted old soul hadmourned her "little bairn" these many months. 

"I will go to see her, " said Carmen. "But first you will come to meto-morrow. " She beamed upon him as she clasped his hands again. Thenshe entered the car, and sat waving her hand back at him as long as hecould see her. 

It would be difficult to say which of the two, Miss Wall or FatherWaite, was the more startled by this abrupt and lively _rencontre_. But to Carmen, as she sat back in the car absorbed in thought, it hadbeen a perfectly natural meeting between two warm friends. Suddenlythe girl turned to the woman. "You haven't anything but money, andfine clothes, and automobiles, and jewels, you think. And you wantsomething better. Do you know? I know what it is you want. "

"What is it?" asked the wondering woman, marveling at this strangegirl who went about embracing people so promiscuously. 

"Love. "

The woman's lip trembled slightly when she heard this, but she did notreply. 

"And I'm going to love you, " the girl continued. "Oh, so much! You'retired of society gabble and gossip; you're tired of spending onyourself the money you never earned; you're not a bit of use toanybody, are you? But you want to be. You're a sort of tragedy, aren'tyou? Oh, I know. There are just lots of them in high society, just asweary as you. They haven't anything but money. And they lack the verygreatest thing in all of life, the very thing that no amount of moneywill buy, just love! But, do you know? they don't realize that, inorder to get, they must give. In order to be loved, they mustthemselves love. Now you start right in and love the whole world, loveeverybody, big and little. And, as you love people, try to see onlytheir perfection. Never look at a bad trait, nor a blemish of anysort. Try it. In a week's time you will be a new woman. "

"Do you do that?" the woman asked in a low tone. 

"I have _always_ done it, " replied Carmen. "I don't know anything butlove. I never knew what it was to hate or revile. I never could seewhat there was that deserved hatred or loathing. I don't see anythingbut good--everywhere. "

The woman slipped an arm about the girl. "I--I don't mind your talkingthat way to me, " she whispered. "But I just couldn't bear to listen toany more religion. "

"Why!" exclaimed Carmen. "That's all there is to religion! Love is thetie that binds all together and all to God. Why, Miss Wall--"

"Call me Elizabeth, please, " interrupted the woman. 

"Well then, Elizabeth, " she said softly, "all creeds have got to mergeinto just one, some day, and, instead of saying 'I believe, ' everybodywill say 'I understand and I love. ' Why, the very person who lovedmore than anybody else ever did was the one who saw God most clearly!He knew that if we would see God--good everywhere--we would justsimply _have_ to love, for God _is_ love! Don't you see? It is sosimple!"

"Do you love me, Carmen, because you pity me?"

"No, indeed!" was the emphatic answer. "God's children are not to bepitied--and I see in people only His children. "

"Well, why, then, do you love me?"

The girl replied quickly: "God is love. I am His reflection. I reflectHim to you. That's loving you. 

"And now, " she continued cheerily, "we are going to work together, aren't we? You are first going to love everybody. And then you aregoing to see just what is right for you to do--what work you are totake up--what interests you are to have. But love comes first. "

"Tell me, Carmen, why are you in society? What keeps you there, in anatmosphere so unsuited to your spiritual life?"

"God. "

"Oh, yes, " impatiently. "But--"

"Well, Elizabeth dear, every step I take is ordained by Him, who is mylife. I am where He places me. I leave everything to Him, and thenkeep myself out of the way. If He wishes to use me elsewhere, He willremove me from society. But I wait for Him. "

The woman looked at her and marveled. How could this girl, who, in herfew brief years, had passed through fire and flood, still love thehand that guided her!

CHAPTER 19

To the great horde of starving European nobility the daughters ofAmerican millionaires have dropped as heavenly manna. It was but direnecessity that forced low the bars of social caste to the transoceanictraffic between fortune and title. 

That Mrs. Hawley-Crowles might ever aspire to the purchase of adecrepit dukedom had never entered her thought. A tottering earldomwas likewise beyond her purchasing power. She had contented herselfthat Carmen should some day barter her rare culture, her charm, andher unrivaled beauty, for the more lowly title of an impecunious countor baron. But to what heights of ecstasy did her little soul rise whenthe young Duke of Altern made it known to her that he would honor herbeautiful ward with his own glorious name--in exchange for La Libertadand other good and valuable considerations, receipt of which would beduly acknowledged. 

"I--aw--have spoken to her, ye know, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, " that worthyyoung cad announced one afternoon, as he sat alone with the successfulsociety leader in the warm glow of her living room. "And--bah Jove!she said we were engaged, ye know--really! Said we were awfully goodfriends, ye know, and all that. 'Pon my word! she said she loved me. "For Reginald had done much thinking of late--and his creditors wererestless. 

"Why, you don't mean it!" cried the overpowered Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, beaming like a full-blown sunflower. 

"But I do, really! Only--ye know, she'll have to be--coached a bit, yeknow--told who we are--our ancestral history, and all that. You knowwhat I mean, eh?"

"Of course--you dear boy! Why, she just couldn't help loving you!"

"No--aw--no, of course--that is--aw--she has excellentprospects--financial, I mean, eh? Mines, and all that, ye know--eh?"

"Why, she owns the grandest gold mine in all South America! Think ofit!"

"Bah Jove! I--aw--I never was so attracted to a girl in all meblooming life! You will--a--speak to her, eh? Help me out, ye know. Just a few words, eh? You know what I mean?"

"Never fear, Reginald" she's yours. "There will be no opposition. "

"Opposition! Certainly not--not when she knows about our family. And--aw--mother will talk with you--that is, about the details. She'llarrange them, ye know. I never was good at business. "

And the haughty mother of the young Duke did call shortly thereafterto consult in regard to her son's matrimonial desires. The nerve-rackinground of balls, receptions, and other society functions was quiteforgotten by the elated Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, whose ears tingleddeliciously under the pompous boastings of the Dowager Lady Altern. Thehouse of Altern? Why, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles was convinced, after ahalf hour's conversation with this proud mother, that the royal houseof Brunswick was but an impudent counterfeit! What was La Libertadworth? She knew not. But her sister's brother, Mr. Reed, who hadhastily appraised it, had said that there was a mountain of gold there, only awaiting Yankee enterprise. And Carmen? There was proof positivethat she was an Inca princess. Yes, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles was so honoredby the deep interest which the young Duke manifested in the wonderfulgirl! And she would undertake negotiations with her at once. But itmust be done wisely. Carmen was not like other girls. No, indeed!

And now Mrs. Hawley-Crowles had to plan very carefully. She was terriblyin debt; yet she had resources. The Beaubien was inexhaustible. Ames, too, might be depended upon. And La Libertad--well, there was Mr. Philip O. Ketchim to reckon with. So she forthwith summoned him to aconsultation. 

But, ere her talk with that prince of finance, another bit of goodfortune fell into the lady's spacious lap. Reed had written that hewas doing poorly with his western mining ventures, and would have toraise money at once. He therefore offered to sell his interest in theSimití Company. Moreover, he wanted his wife to come to him and makeher home in California, where he doubtless would spend some years. Mrs. Hawley-Crowles offered him twenty-five thousand dollars for hisSimití interest; of which offer Reed wired his immediate acceptance. Then the lady packed her rueful sister Westward Ho! and laid her newlyacquired stock before the Beaubien for a large loan. That was but aday before Ketchim called. 

"Madam, " said that suave gentleman, smiling piously, "you are agenius. Our ability to announce the Duke of Altern as our largeststockholder will result in a boom in the sales of Simití stock. TheLord has greatly prospered our humble endeavors. Er--might I ask, Madam, if you would condescend to meet my wife some afternoon? We arerapidly acquiring some standing in a financial way, and Mrs. Ketchimwould like to know you and some of the more desirable members of yourset, if it might be arranged. "

Mrs. Hawley-Crowles beamed her joy. She drew herself up with a regnantair. The people were coming to her, their social queen, forrecognition!

"And there's my Uncle Ted, you know, Madam. He's president of the C. And R. "

Mrs. Hawley-Crowles nodded and looked wise. "Possibly we can arrangeit, " she said. "But now about our other investments. What is JoplinZinc doing?"

"Progressing splendidly, Madam. We shall declare a dividend thismonth. "

The lady wondered, for Joplin Zinc was not yet in operation, accordingto the latest report. 

 * * * * *

Meantime, while Mrs. Hawley-Crowles was still laying her plans to herdthe young girl into the mortgaged dukedom of Altern, Father Waite kepthis appointment, and called at the Beaubien mansion on the afternoonCarmen had set. He was warmly received by the girl herself, who hadbeen watching for his coming. 

"Now, " she began like a bubbling fountain, when they were seated inthe music room, "where's Jude? I want to find her. "

"Jude? Why, I haven't the slightest idea to whom you refer, " returnedthe puzzled man. 

"The woman who took me to the Sister Superior, " explained Carmen. 

"Ah! We never saw her again. "

"Well, " said the girl confidently, "I saw her, but she got away fromme. But I shall find her--it is right that I should. Now tell me, whatare you going to do?"

"I have no idea. Earn my living some way, " he replied meditatively. 

"You have lots of friends who will help you?"

"None, " he said sadly. "I am an apostate, you know. "

"Well, that means that you're free. The chains have dropped, haven'tthey?"

"But left me dazed and confused. "

"You are not dazed, nor confused! Why, you're like a prisoner comingout of his dungeon into the bright sunlight. You're only blinking, that's all. And, as for confusion--well, if I would admit it to betrue I could point to a terrible state of it! Just think, a duke wantsto marry me; Mrs. Hawley-Crowles is determined that he shall; I am anInca princess, and yet I don't know who I am; my own people apparentlyare swallowed up by the war in Colombia; and I am in an environmenthere in New York in which I have to fight every moment to keep myselffrom flying all to pieces! But I guess God intends to keep me here forthe present. Oh, yes, and Monsignor Lafelle insists that I am aCatholic and that I must join his Church. "

"Monsignor Lafelle! You--you know him?"

"Oh, yes, very well. And you?"

He evaded reply by another query. "Is Monsignor Lafelle working withMadam Beaubien, your friend?"

"I think not, " laughed Carmen. "But Mrs. Hawley-Crowles--"

"Was it through him that she became a communicant?"

"Yes. Why?"

"And is he also working with Mr. J. Wilton Ames? He converted Mrs. Ames's sister, the Dowager Duchess, in England. The young Duke is alsogoing to join the faith, I learn. But--you?" He stopped suddenly andlooked searchingly at her. 

At that moment a maid entered, bearing a card. Close on her heelsfollowed the subject of their conversation, Monsignor himself. 

As he entered, Carmen rose hastily to greet him. Lafelle bent over herhand. Then, as he straightened up, his glance fell upon Father Waite. The latter bowed without speaking. For a moment the two men stoodeying each other sharply. Then Lafelle looked from Father Waite toCarmen quizzically. "I beg your pardon, " he said, "I was not awarethat you had a caller. Madam Beaubien, is she at home?"

"No, " said Carmen simply. "She went out for a ride. "

"Ah!" murmured Lafelle, looking significantly from the girl to FatherWaite, while a smile curled his lips. "I see. I will intrude nofurther. " He bowed again, and turned toward the exit. 

"Wait!" rang forth Carmen's clear voice. She had caught thechurchman's insinuating glance and instantly read its meaning. "Monsignor Lafelle, you will remain!"

The churchman's brows arched with surprise, but he came back and stoodby the chair which she indicated. 

"And first, " went on the girl, standing before him like an incarnateNemesis, her face flushed and her eyes snapping, "you will hear fromme a quotation from the Scripture, on which you assume to beauthority: 'As a man thinketh in his heart, so _is_ he!'"

For a moment Lafelle flushed. Then his face darkened. Finally a blandsmile spread over his features, and he sat down. The girl resumed herseat. 

"Now, Monsignor Lafelle, " she continued severely, "you have urged meto unite with your Church. When you asked me to subscribe to yourbeliefs I looked first at them, and then at you, their product. Youhave come here this afternoon to plead with me again. The thoughtswhich you accepted when you saw Father Waite here alone with me, arethey a reflection of love, which thinketh no evil? Or do they reflectthe intolerance, the bigotry, the hatred of the carnal mind? You toldme that your Church would not let me teach it. Think you I will let itor you teach me?"

Father Waite sat amazed at the girl's stinging rebuke. When sheconcluded he rose to go. 

"No!" said Carmen. "You, too, shall remain. You have left the Churchof which Monsignor Lafelle is a part. Either you have done thatChurch, and him, a great injustice--or he does ignorant or wilfulwrong in insisting that I unite with it. "

"My dear child, " said Lafelle gently, now recovered and wholly on hisguard, "your impetuosity gets the better of your judgment. This is nooccasion for a theological discussion, nor are you sufficientlyinformed to bear a part in such. As for myself, you unintentionally dome great wrong. As I have repeatedly told you, I seek only youreternal welfare. Else would I not labor with you as I do. "

Carmen turned to Father Waite. "Is my eternal welfare dependent uponacceptance of the Church's doctrines?"

"No, " he said, in a scarcely audible voice. 

A cynical look came into Lafelle's eyes. But he replied affably: "Whenpreachers fall out, the devil falls in. Your reply, Mr. Waite, comesquite consistently from one who has impudently tossed asideauthority. "

"My authority, Monsignor, " returned the ex-priest in a low tone, "isJesus Christ, who said: 'Love thy neighbor as thyself. '"

"Ah!" murmured Lafelle; "then it was love that prompted you to abandonyour little flock?"

"I left my pulpit, Monsignor, because I had nothing to give my people. I no longer believe the dogmas of the Church. And I refused longer totake the poor people's money to support an institution so politicallyreligious as I believe your Church to be. I could no longer take theirmoney to purchase the release of their loved ones from an imaginedpurgatory--a place for which there is not the slightest Scripturalwarrant--"

"You mistake, sir!" interrupted Lafelle in an angry tone. 

"Very well, Monsignor, " replied Father Waite; "grant, then, that thereis such Scriptural warrant; I would nevertheless know that theexistence of purgatory was wholly incompatible with the reign of aninfinite God of love. And, knowing that, I have ceased to extort giftsof money from the ignorance of the living and the ghastly terrors ofthe dying--"

"And so deceive yourself that you are doing a righteous act inremoving their greatest consolation, " the churchman again interrupted, a sneer curving his lip. 

"Consolation! The consolation which the stupifying drug affords, yes!Ah, Monsignor, as I looked down into the faces of my poor people, weekafter week, I knew that no sacerdotal intervention was needed to remittheir sins, for their sins were but their unsolved problems of life. Oh, the poor, grief-stricken mothers who bent their tear-stained eyesupon me as I preached the 'authority' of the Fathers! Well I knewthat, when I told them from my pulpit that their deceased infants, ifbaptized, went straight to heaven, they blindly, madly accepted mywords! And when I went further and told them that their dead babes hadjoined the ranks of the blessed, and could thenceforth be prayed to, could I wonder that they rejoiced and eagerly grasped the falsemessage of cheer? They believed because they wanted it to be so. Andyet those utterances of mine, based upon the accepted doctrine ofHoly Church, were but narcotics, lulling those poor, afflicted mindsinto a false sense of rest and security, and checking all furtherhuman progress. "

Lafelle shrugged his shoulders. "It is to be regretted, " he saidcoldly, "that such narrowness of view should be permitted to impedethe salvation of souls. "

"Salvation--of--souls!" exclaimed Father Waite. "Ah, how many soulshave I not saved!--and yet I know not whether they or I be reallysaved! Saved? From what? From death? Certainly not! From misery, disease, suffering in this life? No, alas, no! Saved, then, from what?Ah, my friend, saved only from the torments of a hell and a purgatoryconstructed in the fertile minds of busy theologians!"

Lafelle turned to Carmen. "Some other day, perhaps--when it may bemore convenient for us both--and you are alone--"

Carmen laughed. "Don't quit the field, Monsignor--unless you surrenderabjectly. You started this controversy, remember. And you were quiteindiscreet, if you will recall. "

Monsignor bowed, smiling. "You write my faults in brass, " he gentlylamented. "When you publish my virtues, if you find that I ampossessed of any, I fear you will write them in water. "

Carmen laughed again. "Your virtues should advertise themselves, Monsignor. "

"Ah, then do you not see in me the virtue of desiring your welfareabove all else, my child?"

"And the welfare of this great country, which you have come here toassist in making dominantly Catholic, is it not so, Monsignor?"

Lafelle started slightly. Then he smiled genially back at the girl. "It is an ambition which I am not ashamed to own, " he returnedgently. 

"But, Monsignor, " Carmen continued earnestly, "are you not aware ofthe inevitable failure of your mission? Do you not know that mediaevaltheology comports not with modern progress?"

"True, my child, " replied the churchman. "And more, that ourso-called modern progress--modernism, free-thinking, liberty ofconscience, and the consequent terrible extravagance of beliefs andfalse creeds--constitutes the greatest menace now confronting thisfair land. Its end is inevitable anarchy and chaos. Perhaps you cansee that. "

"Monsignor, " said Carmen, "in the Middle Ages the Church was supreme. Emperors and kings bowed in submission before her. The world wasdominantly Catholic. Would you be willing, for the sake of Churchsupremacy to-day, to return to the state of society and civilizationthen obtaining?"

"That would not follow. "

"No? I point you to Mexico, Cuba, the Philippines, South America, allCatholic now or formerly, and I ask if you attribute not theiroppression, their ignorance, their low morals and stunted manhood, tothe dominance of churchly doctrines, which oppose freedom ofconscience and press and speech, and make learning the privilege ofthe clergy and the rich?"

"It is an old argument, child, " deprecated Lafelle. "May I not pointto France, on the contrary?"

"She has all but driven the Church from her borders. "

"But is still Catholic!" he retorted. "And England, though Anglican, calls herself Catholic. She will return to the true fold. Germany isforsaking Luther, as she sees the old light shining still undimmed. "

Carmen looked at Father Waite. The latter read in her glance aninvitation further to voice his own convictions. 

"Monsignor doubtless misreads the signs of the times, " he said slowly. "The hour has struck for the ancient and materialistic theoriesenunciated with such assumption of authority by ignorant, oftenblindly bigoted theologians, to be laid aside. The religion of ourfathers, which is our present-day evangelical theology, was derivedfrom the traditions of the early churchmen. They put their seal uponit; and we blindly accept it as authority, despite the glaring, irrefutable fact that it is utterly undemonstrable. Why do the peoplecontinue to be deceived by it? Alas! only because of its mesmericpromise of immortality beyond the grave. "

Monsignor bowed stiffly in the direction of Father Waite. "Fortunately, your willingness to plunge the Christian world into chaos will fail ofconcrete results, " he said coldly. 

"I but voice the sentiments of millions, Monsignor. For them, too, thetime has come to put by forever the paraphernalia of images, candles, and all the trinkets used in the pagan ceremonial which has soquenched our spirituality, and to seek the undivided garment of theChrist. "

"Indeed!" murmured Lafelle. 

"The world to-day, Monsignor, stands at the door of a new era, an erawhich promises a grander concept of God and religion, the tie whichbinds all to Him, than has ever before been known. We are thinking. Weare pondering. We are delving, studying, reflecting. And we are atlast beginning to work with true scientific precision and system. Asin chemistry, mathematics, and the physical sciences, so in mattersreligious, we are beginning to _prove_ our working hypotheses. And soa new spiritual enlightenment is come. People are awaking to a dimperception of the meaning of spiritual life, as exemplified in JesusChrist. And they are vaguely beginning to see that it is possible toevery one. The abandonment of superstition, religious and other, hasresulted in such a sudden expansion of the human mind that the mostmarvelous material progress the world has ever witnessed has comeswiftly upon us, and we live more intensely in a single hour to-daythan our fathers lived in weeks before us. Oh, yes, we are alreadygrowing tired of materiality. The world is not yet satisfied. We arenot happy. But, Monsignor, let not the Church boast itself that theacceptance of her mediaeval dogmas will meet the world's great need. That need will be met, I think, only as we more and more clearlyperceive the tremendous import of the mission of Jesus, and learn howto grasp and apply the marvelous Christ-principle which he used andtold us we should likewise employ to work out our salvation. "

During Father Waite's earnest talk Lafelle sat with his eyes fixedupon Carmen. When the ex-priest concluded, the churchman ignored himand vouchsafed no reply. 

"Well, Monsignor?" said the girl, after waiting some moments inexpectation. 

Lafelle smiled paternally. Then, nodding his shapely head, he said ina pleading tone:

"Have I no champion here? Would you, too, suddenly abolish the Church, Catholic and Protestant alike? Why, my dear child, with yourideals--which no one appreciates more highly than I--do you continueto persecute me so cruelly? Can not you, too, sense the unsoundness ofthe views just now so eloquently voiced?"

"That is cant, Monsignor! You speak wholly without authority or proof, as is your wont. "

The man winced slightly. "Well, " he said, "there are several hundredmillion Catholics and Protestants in the world to-day. Would youpresume to say that they are all mistaken, and that you are right?Something of an assumption, is it not? Indeed, I think you set theChurch an example in that respect. "

"Monsignor, there were once several hundred millions who believed thatthe earth was flat, and that the sun revolved about it. Were theymistaken?"

"Yes. But the--"

"And, Monsignor, there are billions to-day who believe that matter isa solid, substantial reality, and that it possesses life andsensation. There are billions who believe that the physical eyes see, and the ears hear, and the hands feel. Yet these beliefs are allcapable of scientific refutation. Did you know that?"

"I am not unacquainted with philosophical speculation, " he returnedsuggestively. 

"This is not mere speculation, Monsignor, " put in Father Waite. "Thebeliefs of the human mind are its fetish. Such beliefs become in timenational customs, and men defend them with frenzy, utterly wrong andundemonstrable though they be. Then they remain as the incubus of trueprogress. By them understanding becomes degraded, and the human mindnarrows and shrinks. And the mind that clings to them will thenmercilessly hunt out the dissenting minds of its heretical neighborsand stone them to death for disagreeing. So now, you would stone mefor obeying Christ's command to take up my bed on the Sabbath day. "

Lafelle heaved a great sigh. "Still you blazon my faults, " he said ina tone of mock sadness, and addressing Carmen. "But, like the Churchwhich you persecute, I shall endure. We have been martyred throughoutthe ages. And we are very patient. Our wayward children forsake us, "nodding toward Father Waite, "and yet we welcome their return whenthey have tired of the husks. The press teems with slander against us;we are reviled from east to west. But our reply is that such slanderand untruth can best be met by our leading individual lives of such anexemplary nature as to cause all men to be attracted by our holylight. "

"I agree with you, Monsignor, " quickly replied Carmen. "Scurrilousattacks upon the Church but make it a martyr. Vilification returnsupon the one who hurls the abuse. One can not fling mud withoutsoiling one's hands. I oppose not men, but human systems of thought. Whatever is good will stand, and needs no defense. Whatever iserroneous must go. And there is no excuse, for salvation is at hand. "

"Salvation? And your thought regarding that?" he said in a skirmishingtone. 

"_Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts_, "she replied earnestly. "_To him that soweth righteousness_--rightthinking--_shall be a sure reward_. Ah, Monsignor, do you at heartbelieve that the religion of the Christ depends upon doctrines, signs, dogmas? No, it does not. But signs and proofs naturally and inevitablyfollow the right understanding of Jesus' teachings, even according tothese words: _These signs shall follow them that believe_. Paul gave theformula for salvation, when he said: _But we all with open face beholdingas in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same imagefrom glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord_. Can youunderstand that? Can you see that, taking Jesus as our model andfollowing his every command--seeing Him only, the Christ-principle, whichis God, good, without any admixture of evil--we change, even thoughslowly, from glory to glory, step by step, until we rise out of allsense of evil and death? And this is done by the Spirit which is God. "

"Yes, " said Father Waite, taking up the conversation when she paused. "Even the poorest human being can understand that. Why, then, thefungus growth of traditions, ceremonies, rites and forms which havesprung up about the Master's simple words? Why the wretchedformalistic worship throughout the world? Why the Church's frigid, lifeless traditions, so inconsistent with the enlarging sense of Godwhich marks this latest century? The Church has yet to prove itsutility, its right to exist and to pose as the religious teacher ofmankind. Else must it fall beneath the axe which is even now at theroot of the barren tree of theology. Her theology, like the Judaism ofthe Master's day, has no prophets, no poets, no singers. And herpriests, as in his time, have sunk into a fanatical observance ofritual and form. "

"And yet, " observed Carmen, "you still urge me to unite with it. "

Lafelle was growing weary. Moreover, it irked him sore to be made atarget for the unassailable logic of the apostate Waite. Then, too, the appearance of the ex-priest there that afternoon in company withthis girl who held such radical views regarding religious mattersportended in his thought the possibility of a united assault upon thefoundations of his cherished system. This girl was now a menace. Shenettled and exasperated him. Yet, he could not let her alone. Did hehave the power to silence her? He thought he had. 

"Have you finished with me?" he asked, with a show of gaiety. "If so, I will depart. "

"Yes, " replied Carmen, "you may go now. "

Lafelle paled. He had not expected that reply. He was stung to thequick. What! dismissed like a lackey? He, Monsignor, a dignitary ofHoly Church? He could not believe it! He turned upon the girl and hercompanion, furious with anger. 

"I have been very patient with you both, " he said in a voice that hecould not control. "But there is a reasonable limit. Abuse the Churchas you will, the fact remains that the world fears her and tremblesbefore her awful voice! Why? Because the world recognizes her mightypower, a power of unified millions of human beings and exhaustlesswealth. She is the leader, the guide, the teacher, the supreme objectof worship of a countless army who would lay down their lives to-dayfor her. Her subjects gather from every quarter of the globe. They areEnglish, French, German, American--_but they are Catholics first_!Emperor, King, Ruler, or Government--all are alike subject to hersupreme, divine authority! Nationalities, customs, family ties--allmelt away before her, to whom her followers bow in loyal consecration. The power which her supreme leader and head wields is all butomnipotent! He is by divine decree Lord of the world. Hundreds ofmillions bend before his throne and offer him their hearts and swords!I say, you have good reason to quake! Aye, America has reason to fear!The onward march of Holy Church is not disturbed by the croakingcalumnies of such as you who would assault her! And to you I say, beware!" His face was purple, as he stopped and mopped his damp brow. 

"What we have to beware of, Monsignor, " said Father Waite gravely, "isthe steady encroachments of Rome in this country, with her weapons offear, ignorance, and intolerance--"

"Intolerance! You speak of intolerance! Why, in this country, whoseConstitution provided toleration for every form of religion--"

Carmen had risen and gone to the man. "Monsignor, " she said, "thefounders of the American nation did provide for religious tolerance--andthey were wise according to their light. But we of this day arestill wiser, for we have some knowledge of the wonderful working ofmental laws. I, too, believe in toleration of opinion. You arewelcome to yours, and I to mine. But--and here is the great point--theopinion which Holy Church has held throughout the ages regarding thosewho do not accept her dogmas is that they are damned, that they areoutcasts of heaven, that they merit the stake and rack. The Church'shatred of heretics has been deadly. Her thought concerning them hasnot been that of love, such as Jesus sent out to all who did notagree with him, but deadly, suggestive hatred. Now our Constitutiondoes not provide for tolerance of hate and murder-thoughts, which enterthe minds of the unsuspecting and work destruction there in the formof disease, disaster, and death. That is what we object to in you, Monsignor. You murder your opponents with your poisonous thoughts. And toward such thoughts we have a right to be very intolerant, even tothe point of destroying them in human mentalities. Again I say, I warnot against people, but against the murderous carnal thought of thehuman mind!"

Monsignor had fallen back before the girl's strong words. His facehad grown black, and his hands were working convulsively. 

"Monsignor, " continued Carmen in a low, steady voice, "you havethreatened me with something which you apparently hold over me. Youare very like the people of Galilee: if you can not refute by reason, you would circumvent by law, by the Constitution, by Congress. Thatfailing, you would destroy. Instead of threatening us with the flamesof hell for not being good, why do you not show us by the greatexample of Jesus' love how to be so? Are you manifesting love now--orthe carnal mind? I judge your Church by such as manifest it to me. How, then, shall I judge it by you to-day?"

He rose slowly and took her by the hand. "I beg your pardon, " he saidin a strange, unnatural voice. "I was hasty. As you see, I am zealous. Naturally, I resent misjudgment. And I assure you that you quitemisunderstand me, and the Church which I represent. But--I may comeagain?"

"Surely, Monsignor, " returned the girl heartily. "A debate such asthis is stimulating, don't you think so?"

He bowed and turned to go. Just then the Beaubien appeared. 

"Ah, Monsignor, " she said lightly, as she stepped into the room. "Youare exclusive. Why have you avoided me since your return to America?"

"Madam, " replied Lafelle, in some confusion, "no one regrets more thanI the press of business which necessitated it. But your little friendhas told me I may return. "

"Always welcome, Monsignor, " replied the Beaubien, scanning himnarrowly as she accompanied him to the door. "By the way, you forgotour little compact, did you not?" she added coldly. 

"Madam, I came out of a sense of duty. "

"Of that I have no doubt, Monsignor. _Adieu_. "

She returned again to the music room, where Carmen made her acquaintedwith Father Waite, and related the conversation with Lafelle. Whilethe girl talked the Beaubien's expression grew serious. Then Carmenlaunched into her association with the ex-priest, concluding with:"And he must have something to do, right away, to earn his living!"

The Beaubien laughed. She always did when Carmen, no matter howserious the conversation, infused her sparkling animation into it. "That isn't nearly as important as to know what he thinks aboutMonsignor's errand here this afternoon, dearie, " she said. 

Father Waite bowed. "Madam, " he said with great seriousness, "I wouldbe very wide awake. "

The Beaubien studied him for a moment. "Why?" she asked. 

"I think--I think--" He hesitated, and looked at Carmen. 

"Well?" impatiently. 

"I think he--has been greatly angered by--this girl--and by mypresence here. "

"Ah!" Her face set hard. Then abruptly: "What are you going to donow?"

"I have funds enough to keep me some weeks, Madam, while making plansfor the future. "

"Then remain where I can keep in touch with you. "

For the Beaubien had just returned from a two hours' ride with J. Wilton Ames, and she felt that she needed a friend. 

CHAPTER 20

The Beaubien sat in the rounded window of the breakfast room. Carmennestled at her feet. The maid had just removed the remains of thelight luncheon. 

"Dearest, please, _please_ don't look so serious!"

The Beaubien twined her fingers through the girl's flowing locks. "Iwill try, girlie, " she said, though her voice broke. 

Carmen looked up into her face with a wistful yearning. "Will you nottell me?" she pleaded. "Ever since Monsignor Lafelle and Father Waitewere here you have been so quiet; and that was nearly a week ago. Iknow I can help, if you will only let me. "

"How would you help, dearie?" asked the woman absently. 

"By knowing that God is everywhere, and that evil is unreal andpowerless, " came the quick, invariable reply. 

"My sweet child! Can nothing shake your faith?"

"No. Why, if I were chained to a stake, with fire all around me, I'dknow it wasn't true!"

"I think you are chained--and the fire has been kindled, " said thewoman in a voice that fell to a whisper. 

"Then your thought is wrong--all wrong! And wrong thought just _can't_be externalized to me, for I know that 'There shall no mischief happento the righteous, ' that is, to the right-thinking. And I thinkright. "

"I'm sure you do, child. " The Beaubien got up and walked slowly aroundthe room, as if to summon her strength. Then she returned to herchair. 

"I'm going to tell you, " she said firmly. "You are right, and I havebeen wrong. It concerns you. And you have help that I have not. I--Ihave lost a great deal of money. "

Carmen laughed in relief. "Well, dear me! that's nothing. "

The Beaubien smiled sadly. "I agree with you. Mr. Ames may have mymoney. I have discovered in the past few months that there are betterthings in life. But--" her lips tightened, and her eyes halfclosed--"he can _not_ have you!"

"Oh! He wants _me_?"

"Yes. Listen, child: I know not why it is, but you awaken something inevery life into which you come. The woman I was a year ago and thewoman I am to-day meet almost as strangers now. Why? The only answer Ican give is, you. I don't know what you did to people in SouthAmerica; I can only surmise. Yet of this I am certain, wherever youwent you made a path of light. But the effect you have on peoplediffers with differing natures. Just why this is, I do not know. Itmust have something to do with those mental laws of which I am soignorant, and of which you know so much. "

Carmen looked at her in wondering anticipation. The Beaubien smileddown into the face upturned so lovingly, and went on:

"From what you have told me about your priest, Josè, I know that youwere the light of his life. He loved you to the complete obliterationof every other interest. You have not said so; but I know it. How, indeed, could it be otherwise? On the other hand, that heartlessDiego--his mad desire to get possession of you was only animal. Whyshould you, a child of heaven, arouse such opposite sentiments?"

"Dearest, " said the girl, laying her head on the woman's knees, "thatisn't what's worrying you. "

"No--but I think of it so often. And, as for me, you have turned meinside-out. "

Carmen laughed again merrily. "Well, I think this side wears better, don't you?"

"It is softer--it may not, " returned the woman gently. "But I have nodesire to change back. " She bent and kissed the brown hair. "Mr. Amesand I have been--no, not friends. I had no higher ideals than he, andI played his game with him. Then you came. And at a time when he hadinvolved me heavily financially. The Colombian revolution--his cottondeal--he must have foreseen, he is so uncanny--he must have known thatto involve me meant control whenever he might need me! He needs menow, for I stand between him and you. "

"You don't!" Carmen was on her feet. "God stands between me and everyform of evil!" She sat down on the arm of the Beaubien's chair. "Is itbecause you will not let him have me that he threatens to ruin youfinancially?"

"Yes. He couldn't ruin me in reputation, for--" her voice again fadedto a whisper, "I haven't any. "

"That is not true!" cried the girl, throwing her arms about thewoman's neck. "Your true self is just coming to light! Why, it isbeautiful! And I love it so!"

The Beaubien suddenly burst into a flood of tears. The strain of weekswas at last manifesting. "Oh, I have been in the gutter!--he draggedme through the mire!--and I let him! I did it for money, money! I gavemy soul for it! I schemed and plotted with him; I ruined and pillagedwith him; I murdered reputations and blasted lives with him, that Imight get money, dirty, blood-stained money! Oh, Carmen, I didn't knowwhat I was doing, until you came! And now I'd hang on the cross if Icould undo it! But it's too late! And he has you and me in hisclutches, and he is crushing us!" She bent her head and sobbedviolently. 

Carmen bent over the weeping woman. "Be still, and _know_ that I amGod. " The Beaubien raised her head and smiled feebly through hertears. 

"He governs all, dearest, " whispered Carmen, as she drew the woman'shead to her breast. "And He is _everywhere_. "

"Let us go away!" cried the Beaubien, starting up. 

"Flee from our problems?" returned the girl. "But they would follow. No, we will stay and meet them, right here!"

The Beaubien's hand shook as she clasped Carmen's. "I can't turn toKane, nor to Fitch, nor Weston. They are all afraid of him. I'veruined Gannette myself--for him! I've ruined Mrs. Hawley-Crowles--"

"Mrs. Hawley-Crowles!" exclaimed Carmen, rising. 

"Oh, don't, don't!" sobbed the suffering woman, clinging to the girl. 

"But--how did you do that?"

"I lent her money--took her notes--which I sold again to Mr. Ames. "

"Well, you can buy them back, can't you? And return the money toher?"

"I can't! I've tried! He refuses to sell them!"

"Then give her your own money. "

"Most that I have is mortgaged to him on the investments I made at hisdirection, " wailed the woman. 

"Well?"

"I will try--I am trying, desperately! I will save her, if I can!But--there is Monsignor Lafelle!"

"Is he working with Mr. Ames?"

"He works with and against him. And I'm sure he holds something overyou and me. But, I will send for him--I will renew my vows to hisChurch--anything to--"

"Listen, dearest, " interrupted Carmen. "I will go to Mr. Ames myself. If I am the cause of it all, I can--"

"You will not!" cried the Beaubien fiercely. "I--I would kill him!"

"Why, mother dearest!"

The desperate woman put her head in the girl's lap and sobbedbitterly. 

"There is a way out, dearest, " whispered Carmen. "I _know_ there is, no matter what seems to be or to happen, for 'underneath are theeverlasting arms. ' I am not afraid. Mrs. Hawley-Crowles told me thismorning that Mrs. Ames intends to give a big reception next week. Ofcourse we will go. And then I will see Mr. Ames and talk with him. Don't fear, dearest. He will do it for me. And--it will be right, Iknow. "

And Carmen sat with the repentant woman all that day, struggling withher to close the door upon her sordid past, and to open it wide to"that which is to come. "

 * * * * *

The days following were busy ones for many with whom our story isconcerned. Every morning saw Carmen on her way to the Beaubien, tocomfort and advise. Every afternoon found her yielding gently to therelentless demands of society, or to the tiresome calls of herthoroughly ardent wooer, the young Duke of Altern. Carmen would havehelped him if she could. But she found so little upon which to build. And she bore with him largely on account of Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, forwhom she and the Beaubien were now daily laboring. The young mantacitly assumed proprietorship over the girl, and all society was agogwith expectation of the public announcement of their engagement. 

Mrs. Hawley-Crowles still came and went upon a tide of unruffled joy. The cornucopia of Fortune lay full at her feet. Her broker, Ketchim, basked in the sunlight of her golden smiles--and quietly sold his ownSimití stock on the strength of her patronage. Society fawned andsmirked at her approach, and envied her brilliant success, as itcopied the cut of her elaborate gowns--all but the deposed Mrs. Amesand her unlovely daughter, who sulked and hated, until they received acall from Monsignor Lafelle. This was shortly after that gentleman'smeeting with Carmen and Father Waite in the Beaubien mansion. And heleft the Ames home with an ominous look on his face. "The girl is amenace, " he muttered, "and she deserves her fate. "

The Ames grand reception, promising to be the most brilliant event ofthe year, barring the famous _Bal de l'Opéra_, was set for Thursday. But neither Mrs. Hawley-Crowles nor Carmen had received invitations. To the former it was evident that there was some mistake. "For itcan't be possible that the hussy doesn't intend to invite us!" sheargued. But Thursday morning came, and found Mrs. Hawley-Crowlesdrenched with tears of anxiety and vexation. "I'd call her up and ask, if I dared, " she groaned. But her courage failed. And, to theamazement of the exclusive set, the brilliant function was heldwithout the presence of its acknowledged leaders, Mrs. Hawley-Crowlesand her ward, the Inca princess. 

 * * * * *

On Wednesday night Harris arrived from Denver. His arrival wasinstantly made known to J. Wilton Ames, who, on the morning following, summoned both him and Philip O. Ketchim to his private office. Therewere present, also, Monsignor Lafelle and Alonzo Hood. Harris andKetchim came together. The latter was observed to change color as hetimidly entered the room and faced the waiting audience. 

"Be seated, gentlemen, " said Ames genially, after cordially shakinghands with them and introducing the churchman. Then, turning toHarris, "You are on your way to Colombia, I learn. Going down toinaugurate work on the Simití holdings, I suppose?"

Harris threw a quick glance at Ketchim. The latter sat blank, wondering if there were any portions of the earth to which Ames's longarms did not reach. 

"As a matter of fact, " Ames continued, leaning back in his chair andpressing the tips of his fingers together before him, "a hitch seemsto have developed in Simití proceedings. I am interested, Mr. Ketchim, " turning suddenly and sharply upon that gentleman, "becausemy brokers have picked up for me several thousand shares of thestock. "

Ketchim's hair began to rise. 

"But, " proceeded Ames calmly, "now that I have put money into it, Ilearn that the Simití Company has no property whatever in Colombia. "

A haze slowly gathered before Ketchim's eyes. His ears hummed. Hisheart throbbed violently. "How do you make that out, Mr. Ames?" heheard Harris say in a voice that seemed to come from an infinitedistance. "I myself saw the title papers which old Rosendo had, andsaw them transferred to Mr. Ketchim for the Simití Company. Moreover, I personally visited the mine in question. "

"La Libertad? Quite so, " returned Ames. "But, here's the rub. Theproperty was relocated by this Rosendo, and he secured title to itunder the name of the Chicago mine. It was that name which deceivedthe clerks in the Department of Mines in Cartagena, and caused them toissue title, not knowing that it really was the famous old LaLibertad. "

"Well, I don't see that there is any ground for confusion. "

"Simply this, " returned Ames evenly: "La Libertad mine, since thedeath of its former owner, Don Ignacio de Rincón, has belonged to theChurch. "

"What!" Harris was on his feet. "By what right does it belong to theChurch?"

"By the ancient law of _'en manos muertas'_, my friend, " replied Ames, unperturbed. 

"Good Lord! what's that?"

"Our friend, Monsignor Lafelle, representing the Church, willexplain, " said Ames, waving a hand toward that gentleman. 

Lafelle cleared his throat. "I deeply regret this unfortunatesituation, gentlemen, " he began. "But, as Mr. Ames has pointed out, the confusion came about through issuing title to the mine under thename Chicago. Don Ignacio de Rincón, long before his departure fromColombia after the War of Independence, drew up his last will, and, following the established custom among wealthy South Americans of thatday, bequeathed this mine, La Libertad, and other property, to theChurch, invoking the old law of _'en manos muertas'_ which, beingtranslated, means, 'in dead hands. ' Pious Catholics of many lands havedone the same throughout the centuries. Such a bequest places propertyin the custody of the Church; and it may never be sold or disposed ofin any way, but all revenue from it must be devoted to the purchase ofMasses for the souls in purgatory. It was through the merest chance, Iassure you, that your mistake was brought to light. Knowing that ourfriend, Mr. Ames, had purchased stock in your company, I took thepains to investigate while in Cartagena recently, and made thediscovery which unfortunately renders your claim to the mine quitenull. "

"God a'mighty!" exploded Harris. "Did you know this?" turning savagelyupon the paralyzed Ketchim. 

"That, " interposed Ames with cruel significance, "is a matter which hewill explain in court. "

Fleeting visions of the large blocks of stock which he had sold; ofthe widows, orphans, and indigent clergymen whom he had involved; ofthe notes which the banks held against him; of his questionable dealswith Mrs. Hawley-Crowles; and of the promiscuous peddling of his ownholdings in the now ruined company, rushed over the clouded mind ofthis young genius of high finance. His tongue froze, though histrembling body dripped with perspiration. Somehow he got to his feet. Somehow he found the door, and groped his way to a descendingelevator. And somehow he lived through that terror-haunted day andnight. 

But very early next morning, while his blurred eyes were drinking inthe startling report of the Simití Company's collapse, as set forth inthe newspaper which he clutched in his shaking hand, the maid led in asoft-stepping gentleman, who laid a hand upon his quaking shoulder andread to him from a familiar-looking document an irresistibleinvitation to take up lodgings in the city jail. 

 * * * * *

There were other events forward at the same time, which came to lightthat fateful next day. It was noon when Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, after anight of mingled worry and anger over the deliberate or unintentionalexclusion of herself and Carmen from the Ames reception the precedingnight, descended to her combined breakfast and luncheon. At her platelay the morning mail, including a letter from France. She tore itopen, hastily scanned it, then dropped with a gasp into her chair. 

"Father--married to--a French--adventuress! Oh!"

The long-cherished hope of a speedy inheritance of his snug fortunelay blasted at her feet. 

The telephone bell rang sharply, and she rose dully to answer it. Thecall came from the city editor of one of the great dailies. "It isreported, " said the voice, "that your ward, Miss Carmen Ariza, is theillegitimate daughter of a negro priest, now in South America. Wewould like your denial, for we learn that it was for this reason thatyou and the young lady were not included among the guests at the Amesreception last evening. "

Mrs. Hawley-Crowles's legs tottered under her, as she blindly wanderedfrom the telephone without replying. Carmen--the daughter of a priest!Her father a negro--her mother, what? She, a mulatto, illegitimate--!

The stunned woman mechanically took up the morning paper which lay onthe table. Her glance was at once attracted to the great headlinesannouncing the complete exposure of the Simití bubble. Her eyes nearlyburst from her head as she grasped its fatal meaning to her. With alow, inarticulate sound issuing from her throat, she turned and gropedher way back to her boudoir. 

 * * * * *

Meanwhile, the automobile in which Carmen was speeding to theBeaubien mansion was approached by a bright, smiling young woman, asit halted for a moment at a street corner. Carmen recognized her asa reporter for one of the evening papers, who had called often at theHawley-Crowles mansion that season for society items. 

"Isn't it fortunate!" exclaimed the young reporter. "I was on my wayto see you. Our office received a report this morning from some sourcethat your father--you know, there has been some mystery about yourparentage--that he was really a priest, of South America. Hisname--let me think--what did they say it was?"

"Josè?" laughed the innocent girl, utterly unsuspecting. The problemof her descent had really become a source of amusement to her. 

"It began with a D, if I am not mistaken. I'm not up on Spanishnames, " the young woman returned pleasantly. 

"Oh, perhaps you mean Diego. "

"That's it! Was that your father's name? We're very much interested toknow. "

"Well, I'm sure I can't say. It might have been. "

"Then you don't deny it?"

"No; how can I?" she said, smiling. "I never knew him. "

"But--you think it was, don't you?"

"Well, I don't believe it was Padre Diego--he wasn't a good man. "

"Then you knew him?"

"Oh, very well! I was in his house, in Banco. He used to insist that Iwas his child. "

"I see. By the way, you knew a woman named Jude, didn't you? Here inthe city. "

"Yes, indeed!" she exclaimed excitedly. "Do you know where she is?"

"No. But she took you out of a house down on--"

"Yes. And I've tried to find her ever since. "

"You know Father Waite, too, the ex-priest?"

"Oh, yes, very well. We're good friends. "

"You and he going to work together, I suppose?"

"Why, I'm sure I don't know. He's very unsettled. "

"H'm! yes. Well, I thank you very much. You think this Diego mighthave been your father? That is, you can't say positively that hewasn't?"

"I can't say positively, no. But now I must go. You can come up to thehouse and talk about South America, if you want to. "

She nodded pleasantly, and the car moved away. The innocent, ingenuousgirl was soon to learn what modern news-gathering and disseminationmeans in this great Republic. But she rode on, happy in the thoughtthat she and the Beaubien were formulating plans to save Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. 

"We'll arrange it somehow, " said the Beaubien, looking up from herpapers when Carmen entered. "Go, dearie, and play the organ while Ifinish this. Then I will return home with you to have a talk with Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. "

For hours the happy girl lingered at the beloved organ. The Beaubienat her desk below stopped often to listen. And often she would hastilybrush away the tears, and plunge again into her papers. "I suppose Ishould have told Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, " she said. "But I couldn't giveher any hope. And even now it's very uncertain. Ames _will_ yield!I'll force him to! He knows I can expose him! And yet, " she reflectedsadly, "who would believe _me_?" The morning papers lay still unreadupon her table. 

Late in the afternoon the Beaubien with Carmen entered her car anddirected the chauffeur to drive to the Hawley-Crowles home. As theyentered a main thoroughfare they heard the newsboys excitedly cryingextras. 

"Horrible suicide! Double extra! Big mining scandal! Society womanblows out brains! Double extra!"

Of a sudden a vague, unformed presentiment of impending evil came tothe girl. She half rose, and clutched the Beaubien's hand. Then thereflitted through her mind like a beam of light the words of thepsalmist: "A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thyright hand; but it shall not come nigh thee. " She sank back againstthe Beaubien's shoulder and closed her eyes. 

The car rolled on. Presently the chauffeur turned and said somethingthrough the speaking tube. 

"What!" cried the Beaubien, springing from the seat. "Merciful heaven!Stop and get a paper at once!" The chauffeur complied. 

A loud cry escaped her as she took the sheet and glanced at thestartling headlines. Mrs. James Hawley-Crowles, financially ruined, and hurled to disgrace from the pinnacle of social leadership by theawful exposure of the parentage of her ward, had been found in herbedroom, dead, with a revolver clasped in her cold hand. 

CARMEN ARIZA

BOOK 4

 Watchman, what of the night? The watchman said, The morning cometh. 

 --_Isaiah. _

CARMEN ARIZA

CHAPTER 1

The chill winds of another autumn swirled through the masonry-linedcañons of the metropolis and sighed among the stark trees of itsdeserted parks. They caught up the tinted leaves that dropped fromquivering branches and tossed them high, as Fate wantons with humanhopes before she blows her icy breath upon them. They shrieked amongthe naked spars of the _Cossack_, drifting with her restless masterfar out upon the white-capped waves. They moaned in low-toned agonyamong the marble pillars of the Crowles mausoleum, where lay inpitying sleep the misguided woman whose gods of gold and tinsel hadbetrayed her. 

On the outskirts of the Bronx, in a newly opened suburb, a slendergirl, with books and papers under her arm, walked slowly against thesharp wind, holding her hat with her free hand, and talking rapidly toa young man who accompanied her. Toward them came an old negro, leaning upon a cane. As he stepped humbly aside to make room, the girllooked up. Then, without stopping, she slipped a few coins into hiscoat pocket as she passed. 

The negro stood in dumb amazement. He was poor--his clothes were thinand worn--but he was not a beggar--he had asked nothing. The girlturned and threw back a smile to him. Then of a sudden there came intothe old man's wrinkled, care-lined face such a look, such acomprehension of that love which knows neither Jew nor Gentile, Greeknor Barbarian, as would have caused even the Rabbis, at the cost ofdefilement, to pause and seek its heavenly meaning. 

A few blocks farther on the strong wind sternly disputed the girl'sright to proceed, and she turned with a merry laugh to her companion. But as she stood, the wind fell, leaving a heap of dead leaves abouther feet. Glancing down, something caught her eye. She stooped andtook up a two-dollar bill. 

Her companion threw her a wondering look; but the girl made nocomment. In silence they went on, until a few minutes more of briskwalking brought them to a newly built, stucco-coated bungalow. Runningrapidly up the steps, the girl threw wide the door and called, "Motherdear!"

The Beaubien rose from her sewing to receive the hearty embrace. "Well, dearie?" she said, devouring the sparkling creature with eagereyes. "What luck?"

"We're registered! Lewis begins his law course at once, and I may takewhat I wish. And Mr. Hitt's coming to call to-night and bring afriend, a Mr. Haynerd, an editor. What's Jude got for supper? My! I'mstarved. "

The Beaubien drew the girl to her and kissed her again and again. Thenshe glanced over her shoulder at the man with a bantering twinkle inher eyes and said, "Don't you wish you could do that? But you can't. "

"Yes he can, too, mother, " asserted the girl. 

Father Waite sighed. "I'm afraid it wouldn't look well, " he said. "And, besides, I don't dare lose my heart to her. "

With a final squeeze the girl tore herself from the Beaubien'sreluctant arms and hurried to the little kitchen. "What is itto-night, Jude?" she demanded, catching the domestic in a vigorousembrace. 

"Hist!" said Jude, holding up a finger. "It's a secret. I'm afraidyou'd tell him. "

"Not a word--I promise. "

"Well, then, liver and bacon, with floating island, " she whispered, very mysteriously. 

"Oh, goody!" cried Carmen. "He just loves them both!"

Returning to the little parlor, Carmen encountered the fixed gaze ofboth the Beaubien and Father Waite. "Well?" she demanded, stopping andlooking from one to the other. 

"What about that two dollars?" said the Beaubien, in a tone of mockseverity. 

"Oh, " laughed the girl, running to the woman and seating herself inthe waiting lap, "he told, didn't he? Can't I ever trust you with asecret?" in a tone of rebuke, turning to the man. 

"Surely, " he replied, laughing; "and I should not have divulgedthis had I not seen in the incident something more than merechance--something meant for us all. "

Then he became serious. "I--I think I have seen the working of astupendous mental law--am I not right?" addressing the girl. "You sawa need, and met it, unsolicited. You found your own in another'sgood. "

The girl smiled at the Beaubien without replying. "What about it, dearie?" the latter asked tenderly. 

"She need not answer, " said Father Waite, "for we know. She but casther bread upon the unfathomable ocean of love, and it returned to her, wondrously enriched. "

"If you are going to talk about me, I shall not stay, " declaredCarmen, rising. "I'm going out to help Jude. " And she departed for thekitchen, but not without leaving a smile for each of them as she went. And they understood. 

The Beaubien and Father Waite remained some moments in silence. Thenthe woman spoke. "I am learning, " she said. "She is the light that isguiding me. This little incident which you have just related is but amanifestation of the law of love by which she lives. She gave, unasked, and with no desire to be seen and advertised. It returned toher ten-fold. It is always so with her. There was no chance, nomiracle, no luck about it. She herself did nothing. It was--itwas--only the working of her beloved Christ-principle. Oh, Lewis! ifwe only knew--"

"We _shall_ know, Madam!" declared the man vehemently. "Her secret isbut the secret of Jesus himself, which was open to a world too dull tocomprehend. Carmen shall teach us. And, " his eyes brightening, "tothat end I have been formulating a great plan. That's why I've askedHitt to come here to-night. I have a scheme to propose. Remember, mydear friend, we are true searchers; and 'all things work together forgood to them that love God. ' Our love of truth and real good is sogreat that, like the consuming desire of the Jewish nation, it is_bound_ to bring the Christ!"

 * * * * *

For three months the Beaubien and Carmen had dwelt together in thislowly environment; and here they had found peace, the first that thetired woman had known since childhood. The sudden culmination of thosemental forces which had ejected Carmen from society, crushed Ketchimand a score of others, and brought the deluded Mrs. Hawley-Crowles toa bitter end, had left the Beaubien with dulled sensibilities. EvenAmes himself had been shocked into momentary abandonment of hisrelentless pursuit of humanity by the unanticipated _dénoûement_. Butwhen he had sufficiently digested the newspaper accounts wherein wereset forth in unsparing detail the base rumors of the girl's parentageand of her removal from a brothel before her sudden elevation tosocial heights, he rose in terrible wrath and prepared to hunt down tothe death the perpetrators of the foul calumny. Whence had come thistale, which even the girl could not refute? From Lafelle? He hadsailed for Europe--though but a day before. Ketchim? The man wascringing like a craven murderer in his cell, for none dared give himbail. Reed? Harris? Was it revenge for his own sharp move in regard toLa Libertad? He would have given all he possessed to lay his heavyhands upon the guilty ones! The editors of the great newspapers, perhaps? Ames raged like a wounded lion in the office of every editorin the city. But they were perfectly safe, for the girl, although shetold a straightforward story, could not say positively that thepublished statements concerning her were false. Yet, though few knewit, there were two city editors and several reporters who, in the daysimmediately following, found it convenient to resign their positionsand leave the city before the awful wrath of the powerful man. 

Then Ames turned upon his wife. And, after weeks of terror, thatbrowbeaten woman, her hair whitening under the terrible persecution ofher relentless master, fled secretly, with her terrified daughter, toEngland, whither the stupified Duke of Altern and his scandalizedmother had betaken themselves immediately following the exposé. Thereupon Ames's lawyer drew up a bill of divorce, alleging desertion, and laid it before the judge who fed from his master's hand. 

Meantime, the devouring wrath of Ames swept like a prairie fire over thedry, withering stalks of the smart set. He vowed he would take Carmenand flaunt her in the faces of the miserable character-assassins whohad sought her ruin! He swore he would support her with his untoldmillions and force society to acknowledge her its queen! He had itin his power to wreck the husband of every arrogant, superciliousdame in the entire clique! He commenced at once with the unfortunateGannette. The latter, already tottering, soon fell before the subtlemachinations of Hodson and his able cohorts. Then, as a telling exampleto the rest, Ames pursued him to the doors of the Lunacy Commission, and rested not until that body had condemned his victim to a livingdeath in a state asylum. Kane, Fitch, and Weston fled to cover, andconcentrated their guns upon their common enemy. The Beaubien alonestood out against him for three months. Her existence was death inlife; but from the hour that she first read the newspaper intelligenceregarding Carmen and the unfortunate Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, she hid thegirl so completely that Ames was effectually balked in his attempts atdrastic vindication in her behalf. 

But this served only to intensify his anger, and he thereupon turnedits full force upon the lone woman. Driven to desperation, she stoodat length at bay and hurled at him her remaining weapon. Again thesocial set was rent, and this time by the report that the black cloudof bigamy hung over Ames. It was a fat season for the newspapers, andthey made the most of it. As a result, several of them foundthemselves with libel suits on their hands. The Beaubien herself wasconfronted with a suit for defamation of character, and was obliged totestify before the judge whom Ames owned outright that she had but thelatter's word for the charge, and that, years since, in a moment ofmaudlin sentimentalism, he had confessed to her that, as far as heknew, the wife of his youth was still living. The suit went againsther. Ames then took his heavy toll, and retired within himself to sulkand plan future assaults and reprisals. 

The Beaubien, crushed, broken, sick at heart, gathered up the scantremains of her once large fortune, disposed of her effects, andwithdrew to the outskirts of the city. She would have left thecountry, but for the fact that the tangled state of her financesnecessitated her constant presence in New York while her lawyersstrove to bring order out of chaos and placate her raging persecutor. To flee meant complete abandonment of her every financial resource toAmes. And so, with the assistance of Father Waite and Elizabeth Wall, who placed themselves at once under her command, she took a littlehouse, far from the scenes of her troubles, and quietly removedthither with Carmen. 

One day shortly thereafter a woman knocked timidly at her door. Carmensaw the caller and fled into her arms. "It's Jude!" she criedjoyously. 

The woman had come to return the string of pearls which the girl hadthrust into her hands on the night of the Charity Ball. Nobody knewshe had them. She had not been able to bring herself to sell them. Shehad wanted--oh, she knew not what, excepting that she wanted to seeagain the girl whose image had haunted her since that eventful nightwhen the strange child had wandered into her abandoned life. Yes, shewould have given her testimony as to Carmen; but who would havebelieved her, a prostitute? And--but the radiant girl gathered her inher arms and would not let her go without a promise to return. 

And return she did, many times. And each time there was a change inher. The Beaubien always forced upon her a little money and a promiseto come back. It developed that Jude was cooking in a cheap down-townrestaurant. "Why not for us, mother, if she will?" asked Carmen oneday. And, though the sin-stained woman demurred and protested herunworthiness, yet the love that knew no evil drew her irresistibly, and she yielded at length, with her heart bursting. 

Then, in her great joy, Carmen's glad cry echoed through the littlehouse: "Oh, mother dear, we're free, we're free!"

But the Beaubien was not free. Night after night her sleepless pillowwas wet with bitter tears of remorse, when the accusing angel stoodbefore her and relentlessly revealed each act of shameful meanness, ofcruel selfishness, of sordid immorality in her wasted life. And, lastly, the weight of her awful guilt in bringing about thedestruction of Mrs. Hawley-Crowles lay upon her soul like a mountain. Oh, if she had only foreseen even a little of it! Oh, that Carmen hadcome to her before--or not at all! And yet she could not wish that shehad never known the girl. Far from it! The day of judgment was boundto come. She saw that now. And, but for the comforting presence ofthat sweet child, she had long since become a raving maniac. It wasCarmen who, in those first long nights of gnawing, corroding remorse, wound her soft arms about the Beaubien's neck, as she lay tossing inmental agony on her bed, and whispered the assurances of that infiniteLove which said, "Behold, I make all things new!" It was Carmen whowhispered to her of the everlasting arms beneath, and of the mercyreflected by him who, though on the cross, forgave mankind because oftheir pitiable ignorance. It is ignorance, always ignorance of whatconstitutes real good, that makes men seek it through wrong channels. The Beaubien had sought good--all the world does--but she had neverknown that God alone is good, and that men cannot find it until theyreflect Him. And so she had "missed the mark. " Oh, sinful, mesmerizedworld, ye shall find Me--the true good--only when ye seek Me with allyour heart! And yet, "I, even I, am he that blotteth out thytransgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins. "Only a God who is love could voice such a promise! And Carmen knew;and she hourly poured her great understanding of love into the emptyheart of the stricken Beaubien. 

Then at last came days of quiet, and planning for the future. TheBeaubien would live--yes, but not for herself. Nay, that life had goneout forever, nor would mention of it pass her lips again. TheColombian revolution--her mendacious connivances with Ames--hersinful, impenitent life of gilded vice--aye, the door was now closedagainst that, absolutely and forever more. She had passed through thethroes of a new birth; she had risen again from the bed of anguish;but she rose stripped of her worldly strength. Carmen was now thestaff upon which she leaned. 

And Carmen--what had been her thought when foul calumny laid its sootytouch upon her? What had been the working of her mind when that worldwhich she had sought to illumine with the light of her own purity hadcast her out?

When the blow fell the portals of her mind closed at once againstevery accusing thought, against every insidious suggestion of defeat, of loss, of dishonor. The arrows of malice, as well as those ofself-pity and condemnation, snapped and fell, one by one, as theyhurtled vainly against the whole armor of God wherewith the girl stoodclad. Self sank into service; and she gathered the bewildered, suffering Beaubien into her arms as if she had been a child. She wouldhave gone to Ames, too, had she been permitted--not to plead formercy, but to offer the tender consolation and support which, despitethe havoc he was committing, she knew he needed even more than theBeaubien herself. 

"Paul had been a murderer, " she often said, as she sat in the darknessalone with the suffering woman and held her trembling hand. "But hebecame the chief of apostles. Think of it! When the light came, heshut the door against the past. If he hadn't, dearest, he never couldhave done what he did. And you, and Mr. Ames, will have to do thesame. " And this the Beaubien could do, and did, after months ofsoul-racking struggle. But Ames sat in spiritual darkness, whipped bythe foul brood of lust and revenge, knowing not that the mountainouswrath which he hourly heaped higher would some day fall, and bury himfathoms deep. 

Throughout the crisis Father Waite had stood by them stanchly. Andlikewise had Elizabeth Wall. "I've just longed for some reasonableexcuse to become a social outcast, " the latter had said, as she washelping Carmen one day to pack her effects prior to removing from theHawley-Crowles mansion. "I long for a hearthstone to which I canattach myself--"

"Then attach yourself to ours!" eagerly interrupted Carmen. 

"I'll do it!" declared Miss Wall. "For I know that now you are reallygoing to live--and I want to live as you will. Moreover--" She pausedand smiled queerly at the girl--"I am quite in love with your hero, Father Waite, you know. "

Harris, too, made a brief call before departing again for Denver. "I've got to hustle for a living now, " he explained, "and it's me forthe mountains once more! New York is no place for such a tender lambas I. Oh, I've been well trimmed--but I know enough now to keep awayfrom this burg!"

While he was yet speaking there came a loud ring at the front door ofthe little bungalow, followed immediately by the entrance of themanager of a down-town vaudeville house. He plunged at once into hiserrand. He would offer Carmen one hundred dollars a week, and acontract for six months, to appear twice daily in his theater. "She'llmake a roar!" he asserted. "Heavens, Madam! but she did put it overthe society ginks. " And the Beaubien, shivering at the awfulproposal, was glad Harris was there to lead the zealous theatrical manfirmly to the door. 

Lastly, came one Amos A. Hitt, gratuitously, to introduce himself asone who knew Cartagena and was likely to return there in the notdistant future, where he would be glad to do what he might to removethe stain which had been laid upon the name of the fair girl. Thegenuineness of the man stood out so prominently that the Beaubien tookhim at once into her house, where he was made acquainted with Carmen. 

"Oh, " cried the girl, "Cartagena! Why, I wonder--do you know PadreJosè de Rincón?"

"A priest who once taught there in the University, many years ago? Andwho was sent up the river, to Simití? Yes, well. "

Then Carmen fell upon his neck; and there in that moment was begun afriendship that grew daily stronger, and in time bore richest fruit. It soon became known that Hitt was giving a course of lectures thatfall in the University, covering the results of his archaeologicalexplorations; so Carmen and Father Waite went often to hear him. Andthe long breaths of University atmosphere which the girl inhaledstimulated a desire for more. Besides, Father Waite had some timebefore announced his determination to study there that winter, as longas his meager funds would permit. 

"I shall take up law, " he had one day said. "It will open to me thedoor of the political arena, where there is such great need of realmen, men who stand for human progress, patriotism, and morality. Ishall seek office--not for itself, but for the good I can do, and thehelp I can be in a practical way to my fellow-men. I have a littlemoney. I can work my way through. "

Carmen shared the inspiration; and so she, too, with the Beaubien'spermission, applied for admittance to the great halls of learning, andwas accepted. 

 * * * * *

"And now, " began Father Waite that evening, when Hitt and his friendhad come, and, to the glad surprise of Carmen, Elizabeth Wall haddriven up in her car to take the girl for a ride, but had yielded tothe urgent invitation to join the little conference, "my plan, inwhich I invite you to join, is, briefly, _to study this girl_!"

Carmen's eyes opened wide, and her face portrayed blank amazement, asFather Waite stood pointing gravely to her. Nor were the others lessastonished--all but the Beaubien. She nodded her head comprehendingly. 

"Let me explain, " Father Waite continued. "We are assembled hereto-night as representatives, now or formerly, of very diversifiedlines of human thought. I will begin with myself. I have stood as theembodiment of Christly claims, as the active agent of one of themightiest of human institutions, the ancient Christian Church. Foryears I have studied its accepted authorities and its all-inclusiveassumptions, which embrace heaven, earth, and hell. For years I soughtwith sincere consecration to apply its precepts to the dire needs ofhumanity. I have traced its origin in the dim twilight of theChristian era and its progress down through the centuries, throughheavy vicissitudes to absolute supremacy, on down through schisms andsubsequent decline, to the present hour, when the great system seemsto be gathering its forces for a life and death stand in this, the NewWorld. I have known and associated with its dignitaries and its humblepriests. I know the policies and motives underlying its quietmovements. I found it incompatible with human progress. And so Iwithdrew from it my allegiance. "

Carmen's thought, as she listened, was busy with another whoseexperience had not been dissimilar, but about whom the human coils hadbeen too tightly wound to be so easily broken. 

"Our scholarly friend, Mr. Hitt, " Father Waite went on, "representedthe great protest against the abuses and corruption which permeatedthe system for which I stood. He, like myself, embodied the eternalwarfare of the true believer against the heretic. Yet, without mychurchly system, I was taught to believe, he and those who share histhought are damned. But, oh, strange anomaly! we both claimed the samedivine Father, and accepted the Christly definition of Him as Love. Wewere two brothers of the same great family, yet calling each other_anathema_!"

He looked over at Hitt and smiled. "And to-day, " he continued, "webrothers are humbly meeting on the common ground of failure--failureto understand the Christ, and to meet the needs of our fellow-men withour elaborate systems of theology. "

"I heard another priest, years ago, make a similar confession, " saidHitt reflectively. "I would he were here to-night!"

"He is here, in spirit, " replied Father Waite; "for the same spirit ofeager inquiry and humble desire for truth that animates us no doubtmoved him. I have reason to think so, " he added, looking at Carmen. "For this girl's spiritual development I believe to be very largelyhis work. "

Hitt glanced at Carmen inquiringly. He knew but little as yet of herpast association with the priest Josè. 

"You and I, Mr. Hitt, represented the greatest systems of so-calledChristian belief, " pursued Father Waite. "Madam Beaubien, on the otherhand, has represented the world that waits, as yet vainly, forredemption. We have not been able to afford it her. Yet--pardon myfrankness in thus referring to you, Madam. It is only to benefit usall--that the means of redemption _have_ been brought to her, we mustnow admit. "

All turned and looked at Carmen. She started to speak, but FatherWaite raised a detaining hand. "Let me proceed, " he said. "Miss Wallrepresents the weariness of spirit and unrest abroad in the worldto-day, the spirit that finds life not worth the while; and Mr. Haynerd voices the cynical disbelief, the agnosticism, of that greatclass who can not accept the childish tenets of our dogmatic systemsof theology, yet who have nothing but the philosophy of stoicism orepicureanism to offer in substitute. "

Haynerd bowed and smiled. "You have me correctly classified, " he said. "I'm a Yankee, and from Missouri. "

"And now, having placed us, " said the Beaubien, "how will you classifyCarmen?"

Father Waite looked at the girl reverently. "Hers is the leaven, " hereplied gently, "which has leavened the whole lump. 

"My good friends, " he went on earnestly, "like all priests andpreachers, I have been but a helpless spectator of humanity'stroubles. I have longed and prayed to know how to do the works whichJesus is said to have done; yet, at the sick-bed or the couch ofdeath, what could I do--I, to whom the apostolic virtue is supposed tohave descended in the long line of succession? I could anoint withholy oil. I could make signs, and pray. I could give promises ofremitted sins--though I knew I spoke not truth. I could comfort byvoicing the insipid views of our orthodox heaven. And yet I know thatwhat I gave was but mental nostrums, narcotics, to stupify until deathmight end the suffering. Is that serving Christ? Is that Christianity?Alas, no!"

"And if you were a good orthodox priest, " interposed Haynerd, "youwould refuse burial to dissenters, and bar from your communion tableall who were not of your faith, eh?"

"Yes, " sadly. "I would have to, were I consistent; for Catholicism isthe only true faith, founded upon the revealed word of God, you know. "He smiled pathetically as he looked around at the little group. 

"Now, " he continued, "you, Mr. Haynerd, are a man of the world. Youare not in sympathy with the Church. You are an infidel, anunbeliever. And therefore are you '_anathema_, ' you know. " He laughedas he went on. "But you can not deny that at times you think veryseriously. And, I may go farther: you long, intensely, for somethingthat the world does not offer. Now, what is it but truth that you areseeking?"

"I want to know, " answered Haynerd quickly. "I want to be shown. Iam fond of exhibitions of sleight-of-hand and jugglery. But thepriestly thaumaturgy that claims to transform a biscuit into theflesh of a man dead some two thousand years, and a bit of grape juiceinto his blood, irritates me inexpressibly! And so does thejugglery by which your Protestant fellows, Hitt, attempt to reconciletheir opposite beliefs. Why, what difference can it possibly maketo the Almighty whether we miserable little beings down here arebaptised with water, milk, or kerosene, or whether we are immersed, sprinkled, or well soused? Good heavens! for nearly twenty centuriesyou have been wandering among the non-essentials. Isn't it time to getdown to business, and instead of burning at the stake every one whodiffers with you, try conscientiously to put into practice a few ofthe simple moral precepts, such as the Golden Rule, and lovingone's neighbor as one's self?"

"There, " commented Father Waite, "you have a bit of the world'sopinion of the Church! Can we say that the censure is not just? Wouldnot Christ himself to-day speak even more scathingly to those whoadvocate a system of belief that puts blinders on men's minds, andthen leads them into the pit of ignorance and superstition?"

"Ye have taken away the key of knowledge, " murmured Carmen; "yeentered not in yourselves, and them that were entering in yehindered. "

"Just so!" exclaimed Haynerd, looking at the girl who stood as aliving protest against all that hampers the expansion of the humanmind; that quenches its note of joy, and dulls its enlarging and evernobler concept of God. "Now I want to know, first, if there is a God;and, if so, what He is, and what His relation is to me. I want to knowwhat I am, and why I am here, and what future I may look forward to, if any. I don't care two raps about a God who can't help me here onearth, who can't set me right and make me happy--cure my ills, meet myneeds, and supply a few of the luxuries as well. And if there is aGod, and we can meet Him only by dying, then why in the name of commonsense all this hullabaloo about death? Why, in that case, death is thegrandest thing in life! And I'm for committing suicide right away! Butyou preacher fellows fight death tooth and nail. You're scared stiffwhen you contemplate it. You make Christianity just a grandpreparation for death. Yet it isn't the gateway to life to you, andyou know it! Then why, if you are honest, do you tell such rubbish toyour trusting followers?"

"I would remind you, " returned Hitt with a little laugh, "that Idon't, now. "

"Well, friends, " interposed Father Waite, "it is to take up forearnest consideration just such questions as Mr. Haynerd propounds, that I have my suggestion to make, namely, that we meet together onceor twice a week, or as often as we may agree upon, to search for--"his voice dropped to a whisper--"to search for God, and with thisyoung girl as our guide. For I believe she is very close to Him. Theworld knows God only by hearsay. Carmen has _proved_ Him. 

"Men ask why it is, " he went on, "that God remains hidden from them;why they can not understand Him. They forget that Jesus revealed Godas Love. And, if that is so, in order to know Him all mankind mustlove their fellow-men. But they go right on hating one another, cheating, abusing, robbing, slaying, persecuting, and still wonderingwhy they don't know God, regardless of the only possible way of everworking out from the evils by which they are beset, if we believe thatJesus told the truth, or was correctly reported. " He paused andreflected for a moment. Then:

"The ancient prophet said: 'Ye shall seek me, and find me, when yeshall search for me with all your hearts. ' It is my proposal that webind ourselves together in such a search. To it we can bring diversetalents. To our vast combined worldly experience, I bring knowledge ofthe ancient Greek and Latin Fathers, together with Church history. Mr. Hitt brings his command of the Hebrew language and history, and anintimate acquaintance with the ancient manuscripts, and Biblicalinterpretation, together with a wide knowledge of the physicalsciences. Madam Beaubien, Miss Wall, and Mr. Haynerd contribute theirearnest, searching, inquisitive spirit, and a knowledge of the world'sneeds. Moreover, we all come together without bias or prejudice. AndCarmen--she contributes that in which we have all been so woefullylacking, and without which we can _never_ know God, the rarest, deepest spirituality. She is a living proof of her faith. Shall weundertake the search, my friends? It means a study of her thought, andthe basis upon which it rests. "

The Beaubien raised her hand to her moist eyes. She was thinking ofthat worldly coterie which formerly was wont to meet nightly in hermagnificent mansion to prey upon their fellows. Oh, how different thespirit of this little gathering!

"You will meet here, with me, " she said in a broken voice. "I askit. "

There were none there unacquainted with the sorrows of this penitent, broken woman. Each rose in turn and clasped her hand. Carmen threwher arms about her neck and kissed her repeatedly. 

"You see, " said the Beaubien, smiling up through her tears, "what thischild's religion is? Would the swinging of incense burners and themumbling of priestly formulæ enhance it?"

"Jesus said, 'Having seen me ye have seen God, '" said Father Waite. 

"And I say, " replied the Beaubien, "that having seen this child, youhave indeed seen Him. "

CHAPTER 2

"I'm afraid, " Haynerd was saying, as he and Father Waite were wendingtheir way to the Beaubien home a few evenings later, "that this Carmenis the kind of girl you read about in sentimental novels; the kind whoare always just ready to step into heaven, but who count for little inthe warfare and struggle of actual mundane existence. You get me? Sheisn't quite true to life, you know, as a book critic would say of animpossible heroine. "

"You mistake, my friend, " replied Father Waite warmly. "She is thevery kind we would see oftener, were it not for the belief that yearsbring wisdom, and so, as a consequence, the little child is crushedbeneath a load of false beliefs and human laws that make it reflectits mortal parents, rather than its heavenly one. "

"But I'd like to see her under stress--"

"Under stress! Good heavens, man! You haven't the slightest conceptionof the stress she's been under most of her life! But your criticismunconsciously pays her the highest tribute, for her kind never show byword, deed, or look what they are enduring. That frail-appearing girlhas stood up under loads that would have flattened you and me out likegold leaf!"

"Well, she doesn't look it!" protested Haynerd tenaciously. 

"Of course she doesn't! Her kind never do! She's so far and away aheadof mortals like you and me that she doesn't admit the reality andpower of evil--and, believe me, she's got her reasons for notadmitting it, too! Don't presume to judge her yet. Only try humbly toattain a little of her understanding and faith; and try to avoidmaking yourself ridiculous by criticising what you do not comprehend. That, indeed, has been mankind's age-long blunder--and they havethereby made asses of themselves!"

Edward Haynerd, or "Ned, " as he was invariably known, prided himselfon being something of a philosopher. And in the name of philosophy hechose to be quixotic. That one who hated the dissimulations and shamsof our class aristocracy so cordially should have earned hislivelihood--and a good one, too--as publisher of the Social Era, asprightly weekly chronicle of happenings in fashionable society, wouldhave appeared anomalous in any but a man gifted in the Greeksophistries and their modern innumerable and arid offshoots. Haynerdwas a laughing Democritus, an easy-going, even-tempered fellow, doomedto be loved, and by the same graces thoroughly cheated by the world ingeneral. He had in his rapid career of some thirty-five years dippeddeeply into things mundane, and had come to the surface, sputteringand blowing, with his face well smeared with mud from the shallowdepths. Whereupon he remarked that such an existence was a poor way ofserving the Lord, and turned cynic. His wit was his saving grace. Itwas likewise his capital and stock-in-trade. By it he won a place forhimself in the newspaper world, and later, as a credit asset, hademployed it successfully in negotiating for the Social Era. It takingover the publication of this sheet he had remarked that life wasaltogether too short to permit of attempting anything worth while; andso he forthwith made no further assaults upon fame--assuming that hehad ever done so--but settled comfortably down to the enjoyment of hissinecure. He had never married. And as justification for hisself-imposed celibacy he pompously quoted Kant: "I am a bachelor, andI could not cease to be a bachelor without a disturbance that would beintolerable to me. " Yet he was not a misogynist. He simply shirkedresponsibility and ease-threatening risk. 

"You see, " he remarked, explaining himself later to Carmen, "I'm apseudo-littérateur--I conduct a 'Who's It?' for the quidnunces of thisblasé old burg. And I really meet a need by furnishing an easy methodof suicide, for my little vanity sheet is a sort of social mirror, that all who look therein may die of laughter. By the way, I had torun those base squibs about you; but, by George! I'm going to make aretraction in next Saturday's issue. I'll put a crimp in friend Amesthat'll make him squeal. I'll say he has ten wives, and eight of 'emZulus, at that!"

"Don't, please!" laughed Carmen. "We have enough to meet, withoutgoing out of our way to stir up more. Let it all work out now, as itwill, in the right way. "

"In the right way, eh? Is that part of your doctrine? Say, don't youthink that in formulating a new religion you're carrying coals toNewcastle? Seems to me we've got enough now, if we'd practice 'em. "

"My religion, Mr. Haynerd, is only the practice of the teachings of aNazarene Jew, named Jesus, " she replied gently. 

"Well, my religion is Socialism, I guess, " he said lightly. 

"So's mine, " she quickly returned. "I'm a thorough Socialist. So wemeet on common ground, don't we?" She held out her hand, and he tookit, a puzzled expression coming into his face. 

"Well, " he said, glancing about, "we'll have to dispute that later. Isee Father Waite is about to open this little religious seminar. Butwe'll get back to the discussion of myself, " he added, his eyestwinkling. "For, like Thoreau, I prefer to discuss that subject, because there's no other about which I know so much. "

"Nor so little, " she added, laughing and squeezing his hand as sheturned from him. 

The little coterie took their places around the dining room table, which was well strewn with books of reference and writing materials. Father Waite rapped gently for order. A deep, reverent silence fellupon the group. They had begun their search for God. 

"Friends, " began Father Waite slowly, "we are inaugurating to-night amission of the most profound significance. No question so vitallytouches the human race as the one which we shall reverently discuss inthis and subsequent meetings. I thought as I came in here to-night ofthe wisdom of Epictitus, who said, 'What do I want? To acquaint myselfwith the true order of things and comply with it. ' I am sure nostatement so fully expresses our common desire as that. "

"Just so!" interrupted Haynerd. "If Adam was a Baptist, I want to knowand comply with the fact. "

A general laugh followed. Then Father Waite held up a hand and againbecame serious. 

"Can we treat lightly even the Adam story, when we consider how muchmisery and rancor its literal acceptance has caused among mankind? No. Out of deepest sympathy for a world in search of truth, let us pitytheir stumblings, and take heed that we fall not ourselves. "

He paused. A hush lay upon the room. Carmen's hand stole toward theBeaubien's and clasped it tightly. 

"In these days, as of old, it is still said, 'There is no God!' Andyet, though the ignorant and wilful admit it not, mankind's veryexistence is a function of their concept of a Creator, a solecause of all that is. No question, economic, social, political, orother, is so vitally related to humanity as this: 'Is there a God?'And the corollary: 'What is His relation to me?' For there can benothing so important as a knowledge of truth. Can the existenceof a God be demonstrated? Can He be shown to be beneficent, inview of the world's testimony? What is our source of truth? If theBible, then can its authenticity be established? The greatest ofour so-called civilizations are known as Christian. But who can sayby them what Christianity really is?"

"I am quite prepared to say what it is not!" again interruptedHaynerd. 

"Doubtless, " resumed Father Waite. "And so are we all. But at presentwe are seeking constructive criticism, not solely destructive. Therehas been quite enough of that sort in the world. But, to go a stepfurther, can we say positively that the truth is to be found even inChristianity?"

"Please explain your question, " said Miss Wall, with a puzzled look. 

"The first essential is always facts, " he continued. "The deduction ofright conclusions will follow--provided, as Matthew Arnold so terselysaid, we have sufficient delicacy of perception, subtlety, wisdom, andtact. And, I may add, sufficient freedom from prejudice and mentalbias--ah, there is the stumbling block!"

"Matthew Arnold, " ventured Haynerd, "was dubbed a first-class infidel, as I recall it. "

"Doubtless. As have been many of the world's most earnest searchers. Yet he enunciated much truth, which we to-day are acknowledging. But, to resume, since Christianity as we know it is based upon thepersonality of a man, Jesus, we ask: Can the historicity of Jesus beestablished?"

"What! Do you mean: did he ever live?" queried Miss Wall in greatersurprise than before. 

"Yes. And if so, is he correctly reported in what we call the Gospels?Then, did he reveal the truth to his followers? And, lastly, has thattruth been correctly transmitted to us?"

"And, " added Hitt, "there is still the question: Assuming that he gaveus the truth, can we apply it successfully to the meeting of our dailyneeds?"

"The point is well taken, " replied Father Waite. "For, though I mayknow that there are very abstruse mathematical principles, yet I maybe utterly unable to demonstrate or use them. But now, " he went on, "we are brought to other vital questions concerning us. They are, Ithink, points to which the theologian has given but scant thought. Ifwe conclude that there is a God, we are confronted with the materialuniverse and man. Did He create them? And what are their natures andimport?"

"Well!" ejaculated Haynerd. "Seems to me you've cut out a largeassignment for this little party. Those are questions that the worldhas played football with for thousands of years. Do you think we cansettle them in a few evenings' study? I think I'll be excused!"

"No! We can't spare you, " laughed Father Waite. Then he glanced atCarmen, who had sat quiet, apparently unhearing, during the remarks. "I think you will hear things soon that will set you thinking, " hesaid. "But now we are going to let our traveled friend, Mr. Hitt, give us just a word in summation of his thought regarding themodern world and its attitude toward the questions which we have beenpropounding. "

The explorer leaned back in his chair and assumed his customaryattitude when in deep thought. All eyes turned upon him in eagerexpectation. 

"The world, " he began reflectively, "presents to me to-day the mostinteresting aspect it has assumed since history began. True, the ageis one of great mental confusion. Quite as true, startling discoveriesand astounding inventions have so upset our staid old mediaeval viewsthat the world is hurriedly crowding them out, together with its God. Doctrines for which our fathers bled and burned are to-day lightlytossed upon the ash heap. The searchlight is turned never somercilessly upon the founder of the Christian religion, and upon themanuscripts which relate his words and deeds. Yet most of us havegrown so busy--I often wonder with what--that we have no time for thatwhich can not be grasped as we run. We work desperately by day, building up the grandest material fabric the world has ever seen; andat night we repair the machine for the next day's run. Even ourcollege professors bewail the lack of time for solid reading andresearch. And if our young pursue studies, it is with the almostexclusive thought of education as a means of earning a materiallivelihood later, and, if possible, rearing a mansion and stocking itslarder and garage. It is, I repeat, a grandly materialistic age, wherein, to the casual observer, spirituality is at a very low ebb. "

He thrust his long legs under the table and cast his eyes upward tothe ceiling as he resumed:

"The modern world is still in its spiritual infancy, and does notoften speak the name of God. Not that we are so much irreverent asthat we feel no special need of Him in our daily pursuits. Since weceased to tremble at the thunders of Sinai, and their lingering echoesin bulls and heresy condemnations, we find that we get along just aswell--indeed, much better. And it really is quite bad form now tospeak continually of God, or to refer to Him as anything real andvital. To be on such terms of intimacy with Him as this girl Carmenis--in thought, at least--would be regarded to-day as evidence ofsentimentalism and weakness. "

He paused again, to marshal his thought and give his auditors anopportunity for comment. Then, as the silence remained unbroken, hecontinued:

"Viewing the world from one standpoint, it has achieved remarkablesuccess in applying the knout to superstition and limitation. But, like a too energetic housekeeper, it has swept out much that isessential with the _débris_. When spirituality ceases to be real orvital to a people, then a grave danger threatens them. Materiality hasnever proved a blessing, as history shows. Life that is made up ofstrain and ceaseless worry is not life. The incessant accumulation ofmaterial wealth, when we do not know how really to enjoy it, is folly. To pamper the flesh, to the complete ignoring of the spirit, issuicide. The increased hankering after physical excitements and animalpleasures, to the utter abandonment of the search for that which isreal and satisfying, is an exhibition of gross, mesmeric stupidity, tosay the least. It shows that our sense of life is awry. "

"But the world is surely attempting its own betterment, " protestedHaynerd. 

"I grant you that, " replied Hitt. "But legislation and coercion arethe wrong means to employ. They restrain, but they do not cure. Theyare only narcotics. "

"Oh, well, you are not going to change the race until the individualhimself changes. "

"Have I disputed that?" said Hitt. "Quite the contrary, that is thepith of my observations. Reform is a hearthside affair. And no saneman will maintain that general reform can ever come until theindividual's needs are met--his daily, hourly, worldly needs. "

"I think I get your point, " said Father Waite. "It is wholly aquestion of man's concept of the cause of things, himself included, and their purpose and end, is it not?"

"Quite so, " replied Hitt. "The restless spirit of the modern world ishourly voicing its discontent with a faltering faith which has noother basis than blind belief. It wants demonstrable fact upon whichto build. In plain words, _mankind would be better if they but knewhow_!"

"Well, we show them how, " asserted Haynerd. "But they don't do as wetell 'em. "

"Are you quite sure that you show them how?" asked Hitt. "What do youever do toward showing them how permanently to eradicate a singlehuman difficulty?"

"Oh, well, putting it that way, nothing, of course. "

"Quite so, my friend. The relief we afford is but temporary. And sothe world continues to wait for surcease from woe in a life beyond thegrave. But now, returning to our survey, let me say that amid all thefolly of vain pursuits, of wars and strife, of doleful living andpitiable dying, there are more encouraging and hopeful signs hung outto the inquiring thought to-day than ever before in history. If Imisread not, we are already entered upon changes so tremendous thattheir end must be the revolutionizing of thought and conduct, andhence of life. Our present age is one of great extremes: though wetouch the depths, we are aiming likewise at the heights. I doubt ifthere ever was a time when so many sensed the nothingness of thepleasures of the flesh. I doubt if ever there was such a quickening ofthe business conscience, and such a determined desire to introducehonesty and purity into our dealings with one another. Never was theneed of religion more keenly felt by the world than it is to-day; andthat is why mankind are willing to accept any religious belief, however eccentric, that comes in the guise of truth and bearing thepromise of surcease from sin, sickness, and sorrow here this side ofthe grave. The world was never so hungry for religious truth; and thisfact is a perpetual challenge to the Church. There is a tremendousworld-yearning to know and to do better. And what is its cause? Ianswer, a growing appreciation of the idea that 'the kingdom ofharmony is within you. '"

"Jesus said that, " murmured Carmen, looking up. 

"He but amplified and gave form to the great fact that there wasan influence for better things always existent in the ancient Jews, that 'something not ourselves, ' if you will, 'that makes forrighteousness. ' And he showed that that influence could be outwardlyexternalized in freedom from the ills which beset humanity. "

"Very good, " put in Haynerd. "And then, what?"

"That 'something not ourselves' is the germ of the true idea of God, "answered Hitt. 

"Which makes God--?"

"Wholly mental. "

"Spirit?"

"Mind, " offered Carmen. 

"The terms are synonymous, " said Hitt. "And now let me conclude with afinal observation. Mankind's beliefs are in a whirl. Ecclesiasticismis dying. Orthodoxy and conservatism are hanging desperately to theworld's flying skirts, but they will eventually drop off. No change inthought has been greater than that concerning God. The absentee Lordwho started the universe and then withdrew has gone to the scrap heap, with the ridiculous views of predestination and infant damnation. Theidea of a God who at divers times interfered with His creation andtemporarily set aside His own laws to convince puny man of Hisgreatness, is likewise obsolescent. The world is slowly growing into aconception of a creator, of some kind, but at least mental, anduniversally present. Nay, more, available for all our problems andneeds. And the end will be the adoption of that conception, enlargedand purified still further, and taken into the minutest affairs of ourdaily life--as this girl has done. The day of patient suffering inthis world, under the spell of a promise of compensating reward in theheavenly future, has all but passed. We are gradually becomingconscious of the stupendous fact that the kingdom of all harmony, immortality, and good, is _right here within us_--and therefore can benaught but a consciousness of absolute good, perfectly attainable byhumanity as the 'old man' of Paul is laid off, but not gained, necessarily, through what we call death. "

The silence which followed was broken at length by Miss Wall. "Andwhat constitutes the 'old man'?" she asked. 

"Largely, I think, " said Hitt, "the belief that matter is real. "

"What?" exclaimed Haynerd, almost rising from his chair. "Matter, real?"

Hitt laughed. "I stand on my statement, " he replied. 

Father Waite rose slowly, as if lost in thought. "History shows, " hesaid, meditatively, "that man's progress has been proportionate to hisfreedom from the limitation of ignorance and undemonstrable belief. And that freedom has come as man's concept of God has grown less andless material, and more and more spiritual. From the animal nature ofthe savage, to whom all is matter, down--or up--to the man of to-day, to whom mind is assuming ever greater ascendency, man's progress hasbeen marked by a throwing off of limiting beliefs, theological orother, in material power and substance. The development of the leastmaterial forces, steam, electricity, the X-ray, has come only as thehuman mind has thrown off a portion of its hampering material beliefs. I am astounded when I think of it, and of its marvelous message tofuture generations! For, from the premise that the creator of allthings is spirit, or mind, as you will, comes the corollary that thecreation itself must of necessity be _mental_. And from this come suchdeductions as fairly make me tremble. Carmen has told me of thedeductions which her tutor, the priest Josè, drew from the singlepremise that the universe is infinite in extent--a premise which Ithink we all will accept. "

"There can be no question about it, " said Hitt, nodding his head. 

"Well, " continued Father Waite, "that granted, we must likewise grantits creator to be infinite, must we not?"

"Certainly. "

"And that puts the creator out of the matter-class entirely. Thecreator must be--"

"Mind, " said Carmen, supplying the thought ever-present with her. 

"I see no other conclusion, " said Father Waite. "But, that granted, aflood of deductions pours in that sends human beliefs and reasoninghelter-skelter. For an infinite mind would eventually disintegrate ifit were not perfect in every part. "

"Perhaps it is already disintegrating, and that's what causes the evilin the world, " hazarded Haynerd. 

"Utterly untenable, my friend, " put in Hitt. "For, granted an infinitemind, we must grant the concomitant fact that such a mind is of verynecessity omnipotent, as well as perfect. What, then, could ever causedisintegration in it?"

"You are right, " resumed Father Waite. "And such a mind, of verynecessity perfect, omnipotent, and, of course, ever-present, mustlikewise be eternal. For there would be nothing to contest itsexistence. Age, decay, and death would be unknown to it. And so wouldevil. "

"And that, " said Carmen, rising, "is my God. "

Father Waite nodded significantly to the others, and sat down, leavingthe girl facing them, her luminous eyes looking off into unfathomeddistances, and her face aglow with spiritual light. 

"My God is infinite Good, to whom evil is unknown, " she said. "Andgood includes all that is real. It includes wisdom, intelligence, truth, life, and love--none of them material. How do I know? Oh, notby human reasoning, whereby you seek to establish the fact of Hisexistence, but by proof, daily proof, and in the hours when the floodsof suppositional evil have swept over me. You would rest your faith onyour deductions. But, as Saint Gregory said, no merit lies in faithwhere human reason supplies the proof; and that you will all some dayknow. Yes, my God is Mind. And He ceaselessly expresses Himself in andthrough His ideas, which He is constantly revealing. And He isinfinite in good. And these ideas express that goodness andinfinitude, from the tiniest up to the idea of God himself. And thatgrandest idea is--man. Oh, no, not the men and women you think you seeabout you in your daily walk. No! no! They but counterfeit the divine. But the man that Jesus always saw back of every human concept. Thatman is God's own idea of Himself. He is God's image and likeness. Heis God's reflection. That is the man we shall all put on when we haveobeyed Paul and put off the old man, its counterfeit. "

"Then, Carmen, " said Father Waite, "you believe all things to bemental?"

"Yes, everything--man himself--and matter. "

"But, if God is mind, and infinite, He must include all things. HenceHe must include this imperfect representation, called the physicalman. Is it not so?"

"No, " returned the girl emphatically. "Did not Jesus speak often ofthe one lie about his Father, God? The material man and the materialuniverse are but parts of that lie. And a lie is always a supposition;not real. All evil is contained in that supposition--a suppositionthat there is power and life and substance apart from God. "

"But who made the supposition?" queried Haynerd. 

"A supposition is not made, " replied Carmen quietly. "Its existence issuppositional. "

"I don't quite get that, " interposed Miss Wall, her brows knitting. 

Carmen smiled down at the inquiring woman. "Listen, " she said. "Thecreator of all things is mind. You admit that. But you would have thatmind the creator of evil, also. Yet, your own reasoning has shownthat, on the premise of mind as infinite, such mind must be foreverwhole, harmonious, perfect. The thoughts and ideas by which that mindexpresses itself must be likewise pure and perfect. Then that creativemind can not create evil. For, a mind that creates evil must itself beevil. And, being infinite, such a mind must include the evil itcreates. We would have, then, either a mind wholly evil, or one ofmixed evil and good. In either case, that mind must then destroyitself. Am I not right?"

"Your reasoning is, certainly, " admitted Miss Wall. "But, how toaccount for evil, when God is infinite good--"

"To account for it at all, " replied Carmen, "would be to make itsomething real. Jesus would account for it only by classing it as alie about God. Now God, as the creative mind, must likewise be truth, since He is perfection and harmony. Very well, a lie is always theopposite of truth. Evil is the direct opposite of good. "

"Yes, " said Father Waite, nodding his head as certain bright memoriesreturned to him. "That is what you told me that day when I firsttalked with you. And it started a new line of thought. "

"Is it strange that God should have a suppositional opposite?"asked Carmen. "Has not everything with which you are concerned asuppositional opposite? God is truth. His suppositional opposite isthe great lie of evil. God is good. Hence the same opposite. God isspirit. The suppositional opposite is matter. And matter is just asmental as the thoughts which you are now holding. God is real. Goodis real. And so, evil and the lie are unreal. "

"The distinction seems to me theoretical, " protested Miss Wall. 

Hitt then took the floor. "That word 'real, '" he said, "is perhapswhat is causing your confusion. The real is that which, according toSpencer, does not pass away. We used to believe matter indestructible, forever permanent. We learn that our views regarding it were veryincorrect. Matter is quite destructible. "

"And yet, " said Father Waite, "in this universe of constant change, _something_ endures. What is it but the mind that is God, expressingitself in such immaterial and permanent things as law, love, life, power?"

"Exactly, " replied Hitt. "But now we have been brought back again tothe question of matter. If we can prove that matter is mental, and notreal substance, we will have established Carmen's premise thateverything is mental. Then there remains but the distinction betweenthe mind that is God, and its suppositional opposite, as expressed inhuman existence. Let us conclude, therefore, that to-night we haveestablished, at least as a working hypothesis, that, since a thingexisting implies a creator; and since the existent universe, beinginfinite, demands an infinite creator; and since a creator can not beinfinite without being at once mind, perfect, eternal, omnipotent, omniactive, and good, we are fully justified in assuming that thecreator of all things still exists, and is infinite, ever-presentmind. Further than that we are not prepared to go, until we havediscussed the questions of matter and the physical universe and man. Let us leave those topics for a subsequent meeting. And now I suggestthat we unite in asking Carmen to sing for us, to crown the unity thathas marked this discussion with the harmony of her own beautifulvoice. "

A few moments later, about the small upright piano which the Beaubienhad rented for Carmen, the little group sat in reverent silence, whilethe young girl sent out through the little room the harmoniousexpression of her own inner life, the life that had never left heavenfor earth. 

CHAPTER 3

With her exit from the _beau monde_ and her entrance upon the broadstage of University life, Carmen seemed to have awakened from thelethargy which her abrupt transition from mediaeval Simití into themodern world had occasioned. The static struggle to hold her ownagainst the rushing currents of materialism had turned at length inher favor. Her lamp had been kept alight. The lethal influences whichrose about her like stupifying fumes in the courts of fashion had beenlifted and swept away by the fresher and more invigorating breezesinto which her bark had now been drawn. 

She plunged into her new work joyously; yet not without a deepercomprehension of its meaning than that of her fellow-students. Sheknew that the University was but another stepping-stone, even as hersocial life had been; another series of calls and opportunities to"prove" her God to be immanent good. And she thankfully accepted itsofferings. For she was keenly alive to the materialistic leadings ofthe "higher education, " and she would stand as a living protestagainst them. 

It had not taken her long to discover the impotence lying at the heartof so-called modern education. She had not been slow to mark thedisappointment written upon the faces of many of her fellow-students, who had sought in vain a great awakening light in those sacredprecincts of learning, but, their confidence betrayed, were nowfloundering in the devouring morass of materialism. To her keeninsight the University stood revealed as the great panderer to thislatest century's obsessing idea that the true function of education isexpressed in the imparting of changing, human information and atraining for the business of earning one's daily bread according tothe infamous code of the world's carnal social system. The Universitydid not meet the most urgent need of the race by equipping men tostand against the great crises of human experience. It did not teachmen to lay aside the counterfeit man of material sense; but ratheremphasized the world's belief in the reality of this man by minutelydetailed courses in his mundane history and the manifestations of hispitiable ignorance in his wanton crimes and watery ambitions. ToCarmen, God was the most insistent fact of creation. And mankind'sexistence could find its only justification in ceaseless, consecratedmanifestation of His harmonious activity. True, the University vaguelyrecognized God as infinitely competent. But in the same breath itconfessed its utter ignorance of a demonstrable knowledge of Him, toknow whom alone is life. True, these men of worldly learning prayed. But their hollow prayers bore no hope, for they knew not how to gainanswers to them. 

And yet the girl remained in her new environment, awaiting the call to"come up higher. " And meantime she strove to gain daily a widerknowledge of the Christ-principle, and its application to the needsand problems of her fellow-men. Her business was the reflection of herFather's business. Other ambition she had none. The weak, transient, flighty, so-called intellectual life which she saw about her sent nocall across the calm currents of her thought. Her education wasreligious in the strictest, deepest sense, for she was learning toknow God. 

Though the girl pursued her way quietly, unwilling that the notorietywhich had been fastened upon her should mark her as an object ofcuriosity, yet her story soon spread among University circles, and thefirst semester was a scant two weeks old before her name had beendebated in the numerous Sororities and Women's Clubs, and quietlydropped. Negro blood coursed in her veins; and the stigma of parentaldisgrace lay dark upon her. She lived with a woman of blackenedreputation--a reputation which waxed no brighter under the casual, malicious comments of J. Wilton Ames, whose great financial strengthhad made him a Trustee of this institution of learning. If Carmendivined the comment that was passed concerning herself, she gave noindication. But Hitt and Father Waite knew that the girl had not foundfavor in the social and fraternal organizations of her mates; and theyknew why. 

"A curse upon such little minds!" mused Hitt, when he could no longerrestrain himself. Then he called a student to his desk one day, at theconclusion of his lecture. 

"Miss West, " he said, "you are leader in the most prominent Sororityin the University. I want you to give Miss Carmen Ariza a bid. "

The girl shook her head. "She is not desirable. "

"But the charges against her are unfounded! They are flagrantlyfalse!" stormed Hitt. 

"Have you proof, Professor?" the girl asked, as she arched her brows. 

"None definite. But--well, what if she were a negress? Hers is themost brilliant mind in the entire student-body!"

But, no. Race segregation is a divine tenet, scripturally justified. What though the girl's skin vied with the lilies and rosebuds? Whatthough her hair was the brown of ripe fields? Had not God Almightydecreed that the negro should remain a drawer of water? A hewer ofwood? Had the Lord designed him the equal of the noble white, He wouldhave bleached his face, and bridged his flat nose. Miss West was aSoutherner. And the reference to her dark-skinned sisters caused alittle _moue_ of disgust, as she flatly declined to consider Carmen aneligible candidate for membership in her Society. 

"Lord above!" ejaculated Hitt, who had been brooding over the incidentas he walked home with Father Waite. "That toadying, sycophantic, wealth-worshiping Miss West can see no farther than the epidermis! Ifwe could have maintained Carmen's reputation as an Inca princess, thissame girl would have fawned at her feet, and begged to kiss the edgeof her robe! And she would have used every art of cajolery toingratiate herself into Carmen's favor, to catch the social crumbsthat our girl might chance to drop!"

"There, there, Hitt, " soothed Father Waite. "Have you any idea thatCarmen is at all injured by Miss West's supercilious conduct?"

"Not in the least!" asseverated Hitt vigorously. "But it makes meso--!"

"There, check that! You're forgetting the girl's influence, aren'tyou?"

Hitt gulped his wrath down his long throat. "Waite, " he blurted, "thatgirl's an angel! She isn't real!"

"Oh, yes, she is!" replied Father Waite. "She's so real that we don'tunderstand her--so real that she has been totally misunderstood by thepetty minds that have sought to crush her here in New York, that'sall. "

"But certainly she is unique--"

"Ah, yes; unique in that she goes about putting her arms around peopleand telling them that she loves them. Yes, that certainly is unique!And she is unique in that her purity and goodness hang about her likean exquisite aura, and make people instinctively turn and look afterher as she passes. Unique in that in her sweet presence one seems tohear a strain of heavenly music vibrating on the air. So unique thatthe dawn, the nesting birds, the wild flowers, the daily sunset, fairly intoxicate her with ecstasy and make her life a lyric. "

Hitt essayed to reply; but the words hung in his throat. 

"Yes, " continued Father Waite, "she is so unique that when theempty-headed, vain young Duke of Altern, learning that she had beenthrown out of society because of the base rumor regarding herparentage, sent her a written statement to the effect that there wasno engagement between them, and demanded that she sign it, she didso, with a happy smile, with an invocation, with a prayer for blessingupon those who had tried to ruin her. "

"Good God! Did she do that?"

"Aye, she did. And when Mrs. Hawley-Crowles and Ames and Lafellefilched La Libertad from her, she would have given them the clothes onher back with it, if they had demanded them. Yes, she's unique--sounique that again and again I hear her murmur, as she looks offabsently into space: 'If it is right that he should have a son, then Iwant it to be so. '"

"Referring to--that priest--Josè de Rincón?"

"Yes, doubtless. And time and again I have heard her say: 'God islight. Sight depends upon light. Therefore Anita's babe sees. ' OldRosendo's grandson, you know. "

Hitt nodded. "Waite, " he said earnestly, "she is simply illustratingwhat would happen to any of us if we threw ourselves wholly uponGod's protecting care, and took our thoughts only from Him. That'swhy she can lose her home, her family, her reputation, thatmine--everything--and still stand. _She does what we don't dare todo!_"

"She is a living illustration, " replied Father Waite, "of the mightyfact that there is nothing so practical as _real_ Christianity. I wantyou to tell Professor Cane that. He calls her 'the girl with theUtopian views, ' because of her ingenuous replies in his sociologicalclass. But I want you to show him that she is very far from beingimpractical. "

"I'll do it, " said Hitt emphatically. "I'll prove to Cane that herreligion is not a visionary scheme for regulating a world inhabitedonly by perfect beings, but is a working principle for the every-daysinner to use in the solution of his daily problems. Moreover, Waite, she is a vivid illustration of the fact that when the individualimproves, the nation does likewise. Do you get me?"

"I not only get you, but I stand as a proof of your statement, "returned Father Waite gently. 

Carmen, her thoughts above, though her feet trod the earth, came andwent, glad and happy. The change in her mode of living from thesupreme luxury of the Hawley-Crowles mansion to the common comforts ofthe home where now she dwelt so simply with the Beaubien, seemed notto have caused even a ripple in the full current of her joy. Her lifewas a symphony of thanksgiving; an antiphony, in which all Naturevoiced its responses to her in a diapason, full, rich, and harmonious. Often that autumn she might have been seen standing among the tintedleaves on the college campus, and drinking in their silent message. And then she might have been heard to exclaim, as she turned her raptgaze beyond the venerable, vine-clad buildings: "Oh, I feel as if Ijust couldn't stand it, all this wealth of beauty, of love, ofboundless good!" And yet she was alone, always alone. For her darkstory had reared a hedge about her; the taboo rested upon her; andeven in the crowded classrooms the schoolmates of her own sex lookedaskance and drew their skirts about them. 

But if the students avoided her, the faculty did not. And those likeProfessor Cane, who had the opportunity and the ability to peer intothe depths of the girl's soul, took an immediate and increasinginterest in her. Often her own naïve manners broke down the bars ofconvention, and brought her enduring friendships among the men oflearning. This was especially the case with Doctor Morton, Dean of theSchool of Surgery. Yielding to a harmless impulse of curiosity, thegirl one afternoon had set out on a trip of exploration, and hadchosen the Anatomy building to begin with. Many odd sights greeted hereager gaze as she peered into classrooms and exhibit cases; but shemet with no one until she chanced to open the door of Doctor Morton'sprivate laboratory, and found that eminent man bending over a humanbrain, which he was dissecting. 

Carmen stopped, and stood hesitant. The doctor looked up, surprisewritten large upon his features as he noted his fair caller. "Well!"he said, laying down his work. 

"Well!" returned Carmen. "That sounds like the Indian 'How?' doesn'tit?" Then both laughed. 

"You--are--Doctor Morton?" queried the girl, twisting around andlooking at the name on the door to make certain. 

"Yes, " replied the genial doctor, with growing interest. He was agray-haired, elderly man, slightly inclined to embonpoint, and withkeen, twinkling eyes. "Will you come in?"

"Yes, indeed, " returned the girl; "I'd love to. I am Carmen Ariza. "

"Ah, yes. The young South American--lady. I have heard of you. "

"Most everybody seems to have heard of me, " sighed the girl. "Well, itdoesn't make any difference about my coming in here, does it?" Shelooked up at him so wistfully that he felt a great tug at hisheartstrings. 

"Not a bit!" he replied cordially. "You're as welcome as the Aprilsun. "

She seized his hand and pressed it. "Now tell me, " she said eagerly, looking about. "What are you doing? What's that thing?"

"That, " said he, taking up the pulpy gray object, "is the brain of myerstwhile friend and collaborator, Doctor Bolton. He willed it to theUniversity. "

"Alas, poor Yorick!" murmured Carmen, a facetious twinkle coming intoher eyes as she looked at it. "And why are you cutting it up?"

"In the interests of science, " returned the man, studying her. "Thatwe may increase our knowledge of this marvelous mechanism of thought, and the laws by which it operates in mental processes. "

"Then you still blindly seek the living among the dead, don't you?"she murmured. "You think that this poor thing held life, and yousearch now among its ashes for the living principle. But, God is life;and 'Canst thou by searching find out God?'"

The man regarded her intently without replying. She bent for a whileover the half-dissected brain in deep thought. Then she looked up. 

"Doctor, " she said, "life is not structural. God is life; and to knowHim is to reflect life. Reflecting Him, we are immortal. Doctor, don'tyou think it is about time to do away with this business of dying?"

The man of science started visibly, and his eyes opened wider. Theabrupt question quite swept him off his feet. 

"You didn't really expect to find anything in this brain, did you?"she went on. "The brain is composed of--what?"

"Why, mostly water, with a few commonplace salts, " he answered, wondering what the next question would be. 

"And can a compound of water and a few commonplace salts _think_?" sheasked, looking intently at him. 

"N--no, " he answered tentatively. 

"The brain is not the cause of thought, then, but an effect, is itnot?" she pursued. 

"Why, really, my dear Miss Carmen, we don't know. We call it the organof thought, because in some way thought seems to be associated withit, rather than with--well, with the liver, or muscles, for example. And we learn that certain classes of mental disturbances areintimately associated with lesions or clots in the brain. That's aboutall. "

The girl reflected for a few moments. Then:

"Doctor, you wouldn't cut up a machine to discover the motive power, would you? But that is just what you are doing there with that brain. You are hoping by dissecting it to find the power that made it go, aren't you? And the power that made it go was mind--life. "

"But the life is not in the brain now, " hazarded the doctor. 

"And never was, " returned Carmen promptly. "You see, " she went on, "ifthe brain was ever alive, it could never cease to be so. If it everlived, it could never die. That brain never manifested real life. Itmanifested only a false sense of life. And that false sense died. Whoor what says that the man who owned that brain is dead? Why, the humanmind--human belief. It is the human mind, expressing its belief indeath, and in a real opposite to life, or God. Don't you see?"

"H'm!" The doctor regarded the girl queerly. She returned his lookwith a confident smile. 

"You believe in evolution, don't you?" she at length continued. 

"Oh, surely, " he replied unhesitatingly. "There is overwhelmingevidence of it. "

"Well, then, in the process of evolution, which was evolved first, thebrain, or the mind which operates it and through it?" she asked. 

"Why, " he replied meditatively, "it is quite likely that they evolvedsimultaneously, the brain being the mind's organ of expression. "

"But don't you see, Doctor, that you are now making the mind reallycome first? For that which expresses a thing is always secondary tothe thing expressed. "

"Well, perhaps so, " he said. "At any rate, it is quite immaterial to apractical knowledge of how to meet the brain's ills. I am a practicalman, you know. "

"I'm sorry to hear that, " she said simply. "Practical men are sostupid and ignorant. "

"Well, I declare!" he exclaimed, putting his hands on his hips andstaring down at the smiling face. 

"And you are so nice and friendly, I wouldn't want to think you stupidand ignorant, " she went on blandly. 

"H'm! Well, that kind o' takes the edge off your former classificationof me, " he said, greatly amused, yet wondering just what appraisal toplace upon this frank girl. 

"And evolution, " she continued, "is an unfolding, isn't it? You see, the great fact of creation is the creator, infinite mind. Well, thatmind expresses itself in its ideas. And these it is unfolding all thetime. Now a fact always gives rise to a suppositional opposite. Theopposite of a fact is an error. And that is why error has been called'negative truth. ' Of course, there isn't any such thing as negativetruth! And so all error is simply falsity, supposition, without realexistence. Do you see?"

He did not reply. But she went on unperturbed. "Now, the human, orcarnal, mind is the negative truth of the real mind, God. It isinfinite mind's suppositional opposite. And it imitates theinfinite mind, but in a very stupid, blundering way. And so the wholephysical universe manifests evolution, too--an unfolding, orrevealing, of material types, or mental concepts. And all thesemanifest the human mind's sense of life, and its equally strongsense of death. The universe, animals, men, are all human types, evolved, or unfolded, or revealed, in the human mind. And all arethe human mind's interpretations of infinite mind's real and eternaland perfect ideas. You see that, don't you?

"You know, " she laughed, "speaking of 'negative truth', the firstchapter of Genesis sets forth positive truth, and the second chaptersets forth its opposite, negative truth. It is very odd, isn't it? Butthere it is for everybody to read. And the human mind, of course, trueto its beliefs, clings to the second chapter as the reality. Isn't itstrange?"

Meantime, Carmen's attention had been attracted to a large microscopethat stood on the table near her. Going to it, she peeped curiouslydown into the tube. "Well, what have you here?" she inquired. 

"Germs, " he said mechanically. 

"Germs! What funny, twisted things! Well, " she suddenly asked, "haveyou got the fear germ here?"

He broke into a laugh. But when the girl looked up, her face was quiteserious. 

"You do not know it, Doctor, for you are a practical man, but youhaven't anything but fear germs under this glass, " she said in a lowvoice. 

"Why, those are germs of typhoid and tuberculosis!" he exclaimed. 

"And manifestations, externalizations, of the fear germ itself, whichis mental, " she added. "These things don't cause disease, " she wenton, pointing to the slide. "But the thoughts which they manifest do. Do you scientists know why people die, Doctor?"

"No, " he admitted seriously. "We really do not know why people die. "

"Then I'll tell you, " she said. "_It's because they don't know enoughto live. _ This poor Doctor Bolton died because he didn't know that Godwas life. He committed sickness, and then paid the penalty, death. Hesinned by believing that there were other powers than God, bybelieving that life and thought were in matter. And so he paid thewages of sin, death. He simply missed the mark, that's all. "

She turned and perched herself upon the table. "You haven't asked meto sit down, " she commented brightly. "But, if you don't mind, Iwill. "

"I--I beg your pardon!" the doctor exclaimed, coloring, and hastilysetting out a chair. "I really was so interested in what you weresaying that I forgot my manners. "

"No, " she said, shaking her head as she declined the proffered chair, "I'll sit here, so's I can look straight into your eyes. You go aheadand cut up poor Yorick, and I'll talk. "

The doctor laughed again. "You are much more interesting, " hereturned, "than poor Bolton, dead or alive. In fact, he really wasquite a bore. But you are like a sparkling mountain rill, even if youdo give me a severe classification. "

"Well, " she replied, "then you are honestly more interested in lifethan in death, are you?"

"Why, most assuredly!" he said. 

"So am I, much! Death is _such_ a mistake; and I haven't a bit of usefor it, " she continued. "It's like making mistakes in music, ormathematics. Now when we make mistakes in those, we never stop todiscuss them. We correct them. But, dear me! The world has nearlytalked its poor old head off about the mistakes of sickness and death. It never seems to occur to the world that Jesus always associatedsickness with sin. You know, the Rabbis of his day seem to have hitupon a great truth, although they didn't make it really practical. They maintained that a sick man could not be healed of his diseasesuntil all his sins had been forgiven. And so they attempted to forgivesins and make men clean by their elaborate ceremonies. But they missedthe mark, too. And nobody got to the root of the difficulty untilJesus came. He forgave sin by destroying it completely. And that curedthe disease that was the manifestation of sin. Now I ask, why do you, nearly two thousand years after his time, still do as the old Rabbisdid, and continue to treat the body--the effect--instead of the mentalcause? But, " looking down in meditation, "I suppose if you did thatthe people would cry, 'He hath a devil!' They thought I was a witch inSimití. "

"H'm!" returned the doctor. "Then you do not believe that disease iscaused by microbes, I take it?"

"Disease caused by microbes? Yes, so it is. And the microbe? It is amanifestation of the human mind again. And, as with typhoid fever, diphtheria, and other diseases, the human mind applies its owncherished, ignorant beliefs in certain methods, and then rendersinnocuous its own manifestations, microbes. The human mind makes itsown diseases, and then in some cases removes the disease, but still byhuman, material methods. Its reliefs are only temporary. At last ityields itself to its false beliefs, and then goes out in what it callsdeath. It is all a mental process--all human thought and its variousmanifestations. Now why not get beyond microbes and reach the cause, even of them, the human mind itself? Jesus did. Paul did. Others havedone so. Why do not you men of science do likewise?"

Doctor Morton himself took the chair which he had set out for thegirl. "What you say, " he replied slowly, "is not new to me. But I canonly answer that the world is not ready yet for the great change whichyou suggest. "

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "What cant! What mesmerism you are laboringunder! Was the world ready for Jesus?"

"No. He came too soon. Events show that. "

"Well, then, would he be accepted to-day, if he had not come before?"

"I can not say. But--I think he would not. "

"And I quite agree with you, " she said firmly. "Now the world hasdoctored for more than four thousand years, despite the fact thathealth is not sold in bottle or pill form. Doctor, what does thehistory of all these centuries of drugging show you?"

He hesitated. Carmen waited a moment; then continued:

"Don't they demonstrate the absolute inability of medicines to curedisease?" she asked. "Any more than putting men in prison curescrime?" she added as an afterthought. 

"They at least prove that medication has not _permanently_ removeddisease, " he ventured, not wishing to go too far. 

"Doctor, " she said earnestly, "that man Jesus, who, according to you, came too soon, said: 'Without me ye can do nothing. ' Well, didn't hecome very, very close to the truth when he made that statement? He didnot say that without drugs or material remedies we could do nothing, but that without the Christ-principle mankind would continue, asbefore, to miss the mark. He showed that disease and discord resultfrom sin. Sin is lack of righteousness, lack of right-thinking aboutthings. It is wrong belief, false thought. Sin is mental. Its effect, disease, is mental--a state of discordant consciousness. Can you withdrugs change a state of mind?"

"Certainly, " he replied quickly. "Whiskey and opium cause changes inone's state of mind. "

"No, " she answered. "But the human belief of power inherent in whiskeyand opium, or of the human body's reaction to them, causes a change inthe human thought-activity that is called consciousness. The state ofhuman consciousness changes with the belief, but not the real state ofmind. Can you not see that? And Doctor Bolton--"

"Bolton was not sick. He died of natural causes, old age, and generalbreakdown, " was the doctor's refuge. 

Carmen laughed and sprang down from the table. "What an obstinatelyobdurate lot you scientific men are!" she exclaimed. "Don't you knowthat you doctors are only a development of the old 'medicine-man'? Nowin the first place, Mr. Bolton isn't dead; and, in the second, thereare no _natural_ causes of death. Old age? Why, that's gone out offashion, long since. "

"You deny senile changes--?"

"I deny every human error!" she interrupted. 

"Then, " with a note of banter in his voice, "I take it that you do notexpect to die. "

"I do not!" she replied emphatically. "I expect good, nothing butgood, ever! Don't you know that physiologists themselves admit thatthe human body is composed of eighty-five per cent water and fifteenper cent ordinary salts? Can such a combination have intelligence andsensation? Do you still believe that life is dependent upon lungs, stomach, or liver? Why, the so-called 'unit cell' breathes, digests, and manifests life-functions, and yet it has no lungs, no mouth, nostomach, no organs. It is the human mind, assuming knowledge and powerwhich it does _not_ possess, that says the sense of life shall dependupon such organs in the one case and not in the other. And the humanmind could be utterly refuted if men would only learn to use theChrist-principle. Jesus and Paul used it, and proved material laws tobe only false beliefs. "

"Well, " he replied meditatively, "if you are correct, then thepreachers are way off the track. And I have long since come to theconclusion that--Well, " changing abruptly back to the previous topic, "so you refute the microbe theory, eh?"

"I said I did and did not, " she laughed. "Listen: fear, worry, hatred, malice, murder, all of which are mental things in themselves, manifestto the human mind as microbes. These are the hurtful microbes, andthey produce toxins, which poison the system. What is the cure?Antitoxins? No, indeed! Jesus gave the real and permanent cure. It isthe Christ-principle. Now you can learn that principle, and how toapply it. But if you don't care to, why, then you must go on with yourmaterial microbes and poisons, and with your diseases and death, untilyou are ready to leave them and turn to that which is real. For allhuman-mind activity and manifestation, whether in microbes, death, orlife, is mental, and is but the counterfeit of the real activity ofdivine mind, God. 

"Do you know, " she pursued earnestly, "I heard a lecture the other dayin which it was said that life is a sort of fermentation in the body. Well, as regards human life, I guess that is so. For the human body isonly a manifestation of the human mind; and the human mind surely isin a continuous state of ferment!"

She paused and laughed. "The lecturer, " she continued, "said that therange of life was from ultra-microbe to man, and that Shakespearebegan as a single cell. Think of it! The mundane concept ofShakespeare's body may have unfolded from a cell-concept; butShakespeare was a manifestation of mind! And that mind was aninterpretation, though very imperfect, of the mind that is God. Whycan't you materialists raise your eyes above the dust? Why, you wouldchoke the very avenues of the spirit with mud!"

"H'm! Well, your education seems to be--"

"Yes, " she interrupted, "my education is beyond the vagaries that areso generally taught in the name of knowledge. Intellectual educationis a farce. It does nothing for mankind, except to give them a falseculture. Were the so-called great men of the past really educated?Here is an extract which I copied this afternoon from Hawthorne. " Sheopened her note book and read:

 "'Ah, but there is a half-acknowledged melancholy like to this when we stand in the perfected vigor of our life and feel that Time has now given us all his flowers, and that the next work of his never-idle fingers must be to steal them one by one away. '

"Now, " she asked, "was that man really educated? In current theology, yes. But that theology _could not solve his least earthly problem, normeet his slightest need_! Oh, what inexpressibly sad lives so many ofyour greatest men have lived! Your Hawthorne, your Longfellow, theyyearned for the rest which they were taught was to follow death. Theywere the victims of false theology. They were mesmerized. If theybelieved in the Christ--and they thought they did--why, then, did theynot rise up and do as he bade them do, put death out? He taught nosuch resignation to human beliefs as they practiced! He showed men howto overcome the world. Why do we not try to overcome it? Has the timenot come? Is the world not sufficiently weary of dying?"

He looked at her intently for some moments. She seemed, as she stoodthere before him, like a thing of gossamer and sunshine that haddrifted into his laboratory, despite the closed door. 

"Say, " he suddenly exclaimed, as a new thought struck him, "I'd liketo have you talk with my friend, Reverend Patterson Moore! Pat and Ihave barked at each other for many years now, and I'm getting tired. I'd like to shift him to a younger and more vigorous opponent. Ibelieve you've been providentially sent to relieve me. "

"Well, " she acquiesced. "You can tell Professor Hitt, and--"

"Hitt, eh? You know him?"

"Yes, indeed! He comes often to our house. He is very much interestedin these things that you and I have been talking about to-day. We haveregular meetings, with Father Waite, and Mr. Haynerd, and--"

"Well, no wonder you can argue! You've had practice, it seems. But--suppose I have Hitt bring me to one of your meetings, eh?"

"Do!" cried the girl. "And bring your Reverend Pat. "

The genial doctor laughed long and incontinently. "I imagine ReverendPat wouldn't thank you for referring to him that way, " he said. "He isa very high Anglican, and his dignity is marvelous--to say nothing ofhis self-esteem. Well, we'll see, we'll see. But, don't go yet! We'rejust getting acquainted. "

"I must, " replied the girl. "I didn't really mean to come in here, youknow. But I guess I was led, don't you?"

And when the door had closed upon her, the doctor sat silently besidethe pulseless brain of his deceased comrade and pondered long. 

 * * * * *

When Carmen entered the house, late that afternoon, she found theBeaubien in conversation with Professor Williams, of the UniversitySchool of Music. That gentleman had learned through Hitt of the girl'sunusual voice, and had dropped in on his way home to ask that he mighthear and test it. With only a smile for reply, Carmen tossed her booksand hat upon the sofa and went directly to the piano, where shelaunched into the weird Indian lament which had produced such anastounding effect upon her chance visitors at the Elwin school thatday long gone, and which had been running in her thought and seekingexpression ever since her conversation with Doctor Morton a shortwhile before. 

For a full half hour she sang, lost in the harmony that poured fromher soul. Father Waite entered, and quietly took a seat. She did notsee him. Song after song, most of them the characteristic softmelodies of her people, and many her own simple improvisations, issuedfrom the absorbed girl's lips. The Beaubien rose and stole softly fromthe room. Father Waite sat with his head resting on his hand, strivingto interpret the message which welled from the depths of his ownbeing, where hidden, unused chords were vibrating in unison with thoseof this young girl. 

Then, abruptly, the singing stopped, and Carmen turned and faced herauditors. "There, " she said, with a happy sigh, "that just _had_ tocome out!"

Professor Williams rose and took her hand. "Who, may I ask, was yourteacher?" he said, in a voice husky with emotion. 

Carmen smiled up at him. "No human teacher, " she said gently. 

A look of astonishment came into the man's face. He turned to FatherWaite inquiringly. The latter nodded his confirmation of the girl'swords. 

"Well!" exclaimed the professor. "I wonder if you realize what youhave got, Miss Carmen?"

"Yes, " she replied simply. "It's a beautiful gift, isn't it?"

"But--I had thought of asking you to let me train you--but--I--I darenot undertake to handle such a voice as yours. May I--may I sendMaitre Rossanni to you, the great Italian? Will you sing for him?"

"Oh, yes, " returned the girl; "I'll sing for anybody. The gift isn'tmine, you know. It is for all. I'm only the channel. "

When the professor had taken his reluctant departure, the Beaubienreturned and handed Carmen a letter. With a cry of joy the girl seizedit and tore it open. It was from Colombia, the second one that herbeloved Rosendo had succeeded in getting down the river to the distantcoast. It had been written three months prior, and it bore many stainsand evidences of the vicissitudes through which it had emerged. Yes, Rosendo and his family were well, though still at Maria Rosa, far upthe Boque, with Don Nicolás. The war raged below them, but they weresafe. 

"And not a word from Padre Josè, or about him, " murmured the girl, sinking into a chair and clasping the soiled letter to her breast. 

Father Waite thought of the little newsboy of Cartagena, and hispossible share in the cause of Josè's silence. But he made nocomment. 

CHAPTER 4

Carmen's first serious test of her knowledge of English compositionwas made early in the semester, in an essay on town life in Colombia;and so meritorious did her instructor consider it that he advised herto send it to a prominent literary magazine. The result was that theessay was accepted, and a request made for further contributions. 

The girl bubbled with new-found happiness. Then she wrote another, andstill another article on the life and customs of her people. Bothwere given publication; and with the money which she received for themshe bought a silk dress for Jude, much to that adoring woman'ssurprise and vehement protest. Carmen might have saved the moneytoward a piano--but, no; that would have been thinking of herself, andwas inadmissible. Nor did the Beaubien offer any objection. "Indeed, "commented that fond shepherd of this lone lamb, "she would have pouredthe money out into somebody's open hand anyway, and it might as wellbe Jude's. "

Then she choked back the tears as she added: "The girl comes homeevery night with an empty purse, no matter how full it may have beenin the morning. What does she do with the money? Follow her some dayand see. "

Carmen's slight success in the field of letters still further arousedHaynerd's interest. The peacefully somnolent Social Era, he thought, might awaken to new things under the stimulus of such fresh writing ashers. Perhaps life did hold something of real value after all. Wouldshe furnish him with a column or two on the peculiar social aspect ofthe metropolis?

She would, and did. And the result was that the staid conservativesheet was given a smart shaking; and several prominent society peoplesat up and blinked. The article was in no way malicious. It was noteven condemnatory. It but threw a clear light from a somewhat unusualangle upon certain phases of New York's social life, and uncovered afew of the more subtly hidden springs of its peculiar activity. 

Among those who read her essay in the Social Era was J. Wilton Ames. He first lay back in his chair and laughed uproariously. And then, when his agents discovered for him the identity of the author, heglowered. The Beaubien was still standing between him and this buddinggenius. And though he might, and would, ultimately ruin the Beaubienfinancially, yet this girl, despite her social ostracism, bade fair toearn with her facile pen enough to maintain them both in luxury. So hebent anew to his vengeful schemes, for he would make them come to him. As Trustee, he would learn what courses the girl was pursuing in theUniversity--for he had long known that she was in attendance there. Then he would learn who her associates were; what suggestions andadvice her instructors gave her; and her plans for the future. And hewould trace her sources of income and apply pressure at the most vitalpoint. He had never in his life been successfully balked. Much less bya woman. 

Then Haynerd came to congratulate Carmen again, and to request thatshe attend with him the formal opening of the new Ames mansion, thegreat Fifth Avenue palace, for he wanted her vivid, first-handimpressions for his account of the brilliant affair in the Social Era. As reporters, he explained, they would of necessity remain inseclusion, and the girl might disguise to such an extent as to preventrecognition, if she chose. It was business for him, and an opportunityfor rich experience for her. And the fearless girl went, because itwould help Haynerd, though the Beaubien inwardly trembled. 

Invitations to the number of three hundred had been issued to the_élite_ of New York, announcing the formal opening of the newlyfinished, magnificent Ames dwelling. These invitations were wrought inenamel on cards of pure gold. Each had cost thirty dollars. Themansion itself, twelve millions. A month prior to the opening, thenewspapers had printed carefully-worded announcements of the return ofMrs. J. Wilton Ames and her daughter, after a protracted stay atvarious foreign baths and rest-cures in the hope of restoring theformer's impaired health. But Mrs. Ames now felt that she could nolonger deprive society of her needed activities, and so had returnedto conduct it through what promised to be a season of unusualbrilliancy. The papers did not, however, state that J. Wilton hadhimself recalled her, after quietly destroying his bill of divorce, because he recognized the necessity of maintaining the social side ofhis complicated existence on a par with his vast business affairs. 

As Carmen and Haynerd approached the huge, white marble structure, cupolaed, gabled, buttressed, and pinnacled, an overwhelming sense ofwhat it stood for suddenly came upon the girl, and she saw revealed ina flash that side of its owner's life which for so many months she hadbeen pondering. The great shadows that seemed to issue from themassive exterior of the building swept out and engulfed her; and sheturned and clasped Haynerd's arm with the feeling that she wouldsuffocate were she to remain longer in them. 

"Perk up, little one, " said Haynerd, taking her hand. "We'll go roundto the rear entrance, and I will present my business card there. Ames's secretary telephoned me instructions, and I said I was going tobring a lady reporter with me. "

Carmen caught her breath as she passed through the tall, exquisitelywrought iron gateway and along the marble walk which led to the rear. Up the winding steps to the front entrance, where swung the marvelousbronze doors which had stirred the imaginations of two continents, streamed the favored of the fashionable world. Among them Carmen sawmany whom she recognized. The buffoon, Larry Beers, was there, swinging jauntily along with the bejeweled wife of Samson, themultimillionaire packer. Kane and his wife, and Weston followed. Outside the gates there was incessant chugging of automobiles, mingledwith the shouted orders of the three policemen detailed to direct thetraffic. A pinched, ragged urchin and his tattered little sister creptup and peered wildly through the iron pickets of the fence; but asharp rap from a policeman's club sent them scattering. Carmen stoodfor a moment in the shadows and watched the swarm mount the marblesteps and enter through those wonderful doors. There were congressmenand senators, magnates and jurists, distillers and preachers. Each oneowed his tithe of allegiance to Ames. Some were chained to him hardand fast, nor would break their bonds this side of the grave. Some heowned outright. There were those who grew white under his most casualglance. There were others who knew that his calloused hand was closingabout them, and that when it opened again they would fall to theground, dry as dust. Others, like moths, not yet singed, were hoveringever closer to the bright, cruel flame. Reverend Darius Borwell, bowing and smiling, alighted from his parochial car and trippedblithely up the glistening marble steps. Each and all, wrapping theskeleton of grief, greed, shame, or fear beneath swart broadcloth andshimmering silk, floated up those ghostly steps as if drawn by atremendous magnet incarnate in the person of J. Wilton Ames. 

Carmen shuddered and turned away. Did the pale wraith of Mrs. Hawley-Crowles sigh in the wake of that gilded assembly? Did the moansof poor, grief-stricken Mrs. Gannette, sitting in her poverty andsorrow, die into silence against those bronze doors? Was he, the beingwho dwelt in that marble palace, the hydra-headed embodiment of thecarnal, Scriptural, age-old power that opposes God? And could he standforever?

Two detectives met them at the rear door. How many others there werescattered through the house itself, Haynerd could only guess. But hepassed inspection and was admitted with the girl. A butler tookimmediate charge of them, and led them quickly through a short passageand to an elevator, by which they mounted to another floor, where, opening a paneled oak door, the dignified functionary preceded theminto a small reception hall, with lavatories at either end. Here hebade them remove their wraps and await his return. 

"Well, " commented Haynerd, with a light, nervous laugh, "we've crossedthe Rubicon! Now don't miss a thing!"

A moment later the butler returned with a sharp-eyed young woman, Mrs. Ames's social secretary. 

"You will be very careful in your report, " the latter began at once ina business-like manner. "And you will submit the same to me forapproval before it is published in your magazine. Mr. Ames deems thatimperative, since your recent publication of an essay on modernsociety in this city. I have a list here of the guests, their businessand social standing, and other data. You will run that in full. Youwill say that this is the most brilliant assemblage ever gatheredunder one roof in New York. The wealth represented here to-night willtotal not less than three billion dollars. The jewels alone displayedwill foot up not less than twenty millions. Now, let me see, " againconsulting her notes. 

Haynerd stole a covert glance at Carmen and winked. 

"The chef, " the secretary resumed, "was brought over from Paris byMrs. Ames on her recent return. His name, Pierre Lotard, descendant ofthe famous chef of the Emperor Napoleon First. He considers that hismenu to-night surpasses anything he ever before achieved. "

"May I ask, " interrupted Haynerd, "the probable cost of the supper?"

"Yes, perhaps you had better mention that item. It will be in theneighborhood of three hundred dollars a plate. House and tabledecorations, about eight thousand dollars. Here is a copy of the menu. Run it in full. The menu cards were hand-illuminated by Parisianartists, and each bears a sketch illustrative or suggestive of theguest to whom it is given. "

"Cost?" queried Haynerd off-handedly. 

"Three thousand, if I correctly recall it, " was the nonchalant reply. "As to the viands, you will mention that they have been gathered fromevery part of the world. Now come with me, and I will give you a hastysketch of the house, while the guests are assembling in the grandsalon. Then you will remain in the balcony, where you will make whatnotes you wish on the dress displayed. Refreshments will be served toyou later in this waiting room. I need not remind you that you are notexpected to mingle with the guests, nor to address any one. Keep tothe balcony, and quite out of view. "

Opening a door opposite the one through which she had entered, theyoung woman led her charges directly out upon the great marble balconyoverlooking the grand salon below. A rush of brilliant light engulfedthem, and a potpourri of chatter and laughter, mingled with soft musicfrom a distant organ, and the less distinct notes of the orchestra inthe still more distant ballroom, rose about them in confused babel, asthey tiptoed to the exquisitely carved marble railing and peered downupon the gorgeous pageant. The ceiling rose far above them, delicatelytinted like a soft Italian sky. The lofty walls dropped, likegold-gray veils, to the richly carved paneled wainscoting beneath, which had once lined the halls of a mediaeval castle on the Rhine. Thegreat windows were hidden behind rare Venetian lace curtains, overwhich fell hangings of brocade, repeating the soft tints of the walland the brocade-covered chairs and divans ranged close about the sidesof the splendid room. On the floor lay a massive, priceless Persiancarpet, dating from the fifteenth century. 

Haynerd drew a long breath, and whistled softly. From the end of thesalon he could mark the short flight of steps which led to themezzanine, with its walls heavily tapestried, and broken by rich oakdoors opening into lavatories and lounging rooms, itself widening atthe far end into the grand billiard and smoking parlors, done off inCircassian walnut, with tables and furniture to harmonize. From themezzanine he saw the grand stairway falling away in great, sweepingcurves, all in blended marble from the world's greatest quarries, anddelicately chased and carved into classic designs. Two tapestries, centuries old, hung from the walls on either side. Far above, the oakceiling, for which the _Schwarzwald_ had been ranged, was overlaidwith pure gold leaf. The whole was suffused with the glow of myriadhidden and inverted lights, reflected in a thousand angles fromburnished gold and marble and rarest gems. 

Haynerd turned to the waiting secretary. He groped in the chambers ofhis imagery for some superlative adjective to express his emotionbefore this colossal display of wealth. But his ample vocabulary hadfaded quite. He could only shake his head and give vent to the ineptremark, "Swell--by George!"

The secretary, without replying, motioned them to follow. Passingnoiselessly around the balcony to the opposite side, she indicated adoor below, leading off to the right from the grand salon. 

"That room beyond, " she said, "is the petit salon. The decorativeeffects are by French artists. Beyond that is the morning room. It isin panels from French chateaux, covered with Gobelin tapestry. Nowfrom here you can see a bit of the music room. The grand organ cost, installed, about two hundred thousand dollars. It is electricallycontrolled, with its pipes running all around the room, so as to givethe effect of music coming from every corner. "

Haynerd again softly whistled. 

"There are three art galleries beyond, two for paintings, and one forsculpture. Mr. Ames has without doubt the finest art collection inAmerica. It includes several Titians, Veroneses, da Vincis, Turners, three Rubens, and two Raphaels. By the way, it may interest you toknow that his negotiations for the Murillo Madonna were completedto-day, and the picture will be sent to him immediately. "

"Might I ask what he paid for it?" Haynerd inquired casually. 

"You may say that he paid something over three hundred thousanddollars for it, " she replied, in a quite matter of fact tone. "Now, "she continued, "you will go back to your first position, near the doorof the waiting room, and remain there until I return. I may have anopportunity later to show you the library. It is very unique. Greatcarved stone fireplace, taken from a Scotch castle. Hundreds of rarevolumes and first editions. Now, if any one approaches, you can stepbehind the screen and remain out of view. You have chairs and a tablethere for your writing. Do not in any event leave this balcony. "

With this final injunction she turned and disappeared into the littlewaiting room from which they had emerged. 

For some moments Carmen and Haynerd stood looking alternately ateach other and about them at their magnificent environment. Both hadseen much of the gilded life, and the girl had dwelt some months inits alien atmosphere. But neither had ever witnessed such astupendous display of material wealth as was here unfolded beforetheir astonished gaze. At the head of the grand stairway stood theAmes trio, to receive their resplendent guests. The women weremagnificently gowned. But Ames's massive form in its simple blackand chaste linen was the cynosure of all eyes. Even Haynerd couldnot suppress a note of admiration as he gazed at the splendid figure. 

"And yet, " he murmured, "a victim, like the rest, of the greatdelusion. "

Carmen laid down the opera glasses through which she had been studyingthe man. "He is an expression, " she said, "of the American ideal--theideal of practical material life. It is toward his plane of life thatthis country's youth are struggling, at, oh, what a cost! Think, think, what his immense, misused revenue could do, if unselfishlyused! Why, the cost of this single night's show would put two hundredmen like Father Waite through a four-year course in the University, and train them to do life's work! And what, what will Mr. Ames get outof it?"

"Oh, further opportunities to increase his pile, I suppose, " returnedHaynerd, shrugging his shoulders. 

"But, will he get real happiness? Peace? Joy? And does he need furtheropportunities to accumulate money? Does he not rather need some one toshow him the meaning of life, how to really live?"

"He does, indeed! And it may be your mission, Carmen, to do just that. But if you don't, then I sincerely hope the man may die before hediscovers that all that he has achieved, his wealth, his prestige, hispower, have not been worth striving for!"

"He hasn't the slightest idea of the meaning of life, " she murmured, looking down upon the glittering throng. "Nor have any of them. "

"No, " he replied. "They put me in mind of Carlyle's famous remark, ashe stood looking out across the London Strand: 'There are in this citysome four million people, mostly fools. ' How mean, narrow and hardtheir lives are! These are the high priests of vested privilege, ofmediaevalism, of old institutions whose perpetual maintenance, even ina generation that has progressed far beyond them, is a fungus blightupon us. Ah, there's little Willie Van Wot, all dolled out! He'sglorifying his Creator now by devoting his foolish little existence tocoaching trips along the New England shore. He reminds me of the Fleetstreet poet who wrote a century ago of the similar occupation of ayoung dandy of that day--

 What can little T. O. Do? Why, drive a Phaeton and Two!!! Can little T. O. Do no more? Yes, drive a Phaeton and Four!!!!

"He's an interesting outgrowth of our unique social system, eh?"

"We must follow Emerson and treat them all as we do pictures, look atthem in the best light, " murmured Carmen. 

"Aye, hang them in the best light!" returned Haynerd. "But make surethey're well hung! There goes the pseudo-princess, member of the royalhouse of England. She carries the royal taint, too. I tell you, underthe splash and glitter you can see the feet of clay, eh?"

"Yes, " smiled Carmen, "resting upon the high heel. "

"Huh!" muttered Haynerd, with a gesture of disgust. "The women offashion seem to feel that the Creator didn't do a good job when Hedesigned the feminine sex--that He should have put a hump where theheel is, so's to slant the foot and make comfortable walkingimpossible, as well as to insure a plentiful crop of foot-troubles anddeformities. The Chinese women used to manifest a similarly insanethought. Good heavens! High heel, low brain! The human mind is a caveof black ignorance!"

Carmen did not reply, but bent her attention again to the throngbelow. 

"Look there, " said Haynerd, indicating a stout, full-toiletted woman, resplendent with diamonds. "That's our eminent French guest, MadamCarot. She severed herself from her tiresome consort last year bymeans of a bichloride tablet deftly immersed in his coffee, and then, leaving a sigh of regret hovering over his unhandsome remains, hastened to our friendly shores, to grace the _beau monde_ with hergowns and jewels. "

Carmen turned to him with a remonstrance of incredulity. 

"Fact, " he stubbornly insisted. "The Social Era got the whole spicystory. And there beside her is our indispensable Mrs. T. OliverPennymon. See, she's drifted up to young Watson! Coquetting for ahusband still, the old buzzard!"

"Mr. Haynerd!"

"Well, it's fact, anyway, " persisted the society monitor. "And therebeyond her is fat little Mrs. Stuffenheimer, with her two unlovely, red-faced daughters. Ah, the despairing mamma is still vainly anglingfor mates for her two chubby Venuses! If they're not married offproperly and into good social positions soon, it's mamma for the scrapheap! By George! it's positively tragic to see these anxious mothersat Newport and Atlantic City and other fashionable places, rushingmadly hither and yon with their marriageable daughters, dragging themfrom one function to another in the wild hope that they may ultimatelyland a man. Worry and pain dig deep furrows into poor mamma's face ifshe sees her daughters fading into the has-been class. It requiresheroism, I say, to travel in society! But I guess you know, eh? Well, "taking up his notebook, "we must get busy now. By the way, how's yourshorthand progressing?"

"Oh, splendidly, " replied the girl, her eyes still upon the massivefigure of Ames. Then, recovering from her abstraction, "I can write asfast in it now as in longhand. "

"Good!" said Haynerd. "You'll need it later. "

For more than an hour the two sat in the seclusion of the splendidbalcony, looking down upon the scene of magnificence below. Throughthe mind of the young girl ran a ceaseless paean of thanksgiving forher timely deliverance from the trammels which she so well knewenshackled these glittering birds of paradise. With it mingled agreat, consuming desire, a soul-longing to pour into the vacuity ofhigh society the leaven of her own pure thought. In particular did herboundless love now go out to that gigantic figure whose ideals of lifethis sumptuous display of material wealth and power expressed. Why washe doing this? What ulterior motive had he? Was it only a vaingloriousexhibition of his own human prowess? Was it an announcement, magnificent beyond compare, that he, J. Wilton Ames, had attained thesupreme heights of gratified world ambition? That the world at lastlay at his feet? And that over it brooded the giant's lament thatthere remained nothing more to conquer? But, if so, the girl at leastknew that the man's herculean efforts to subdue the material worldwere as nothing. The real conquest lay still before him, the conquestof self. And when that were faced and achieved, well she knew that nosuch garish display as this would announce the victory to a breathlessworld. 

The bustling little social secretary again appeared, and brieflyannounced the production of an opera in the auditorium, to which shehad come to conduct them. Passing through the little waiting room andto the elevator, they quickly mounted to the unoccupied gallery of thetheater above. The parquet, which would seat nearly a thousandspectators, was rapidly filling with an eager, curious throng. TheAmes trio and some of the more distinguished guests were alreadyoccupying the gorgeously decorated boxes at the sides. An orchestra offifty pieces was visible in the hollow below the stage. Caroni, thefamous grand opera leader, stood ready to conduct. The opera itselfwas the much discussed music drama, Salome. 

"Now, " commented Haynerd to his fair, wondering companion, who waslost in contemplation of the magnificent mural decorations of thelittle theater, "we will see something rare, for this opera has beencalled the most artistic piece of indecency known to the stage. Goodheavens! Ames has got Marie Deschamps for the title rôle. She'll costhim not less than five thousand dollars for this one night. And--seehere, " drawing Carmen's attention to the bill, "Marcou and Corvallebesides! The man must be made of money! These stars get three thousanddollars a night during the regular season. "

Every phase of sophistication was manifested in that glitteringaudience when the curtain rose and the sensational theme wasintroduced. But to none came thoughts like those which clamored foradmittance at the portals of Carmen's mentality. In the bold challengeof the insanely sensual portrayal of a carnal mind the girl saw theage-old defiance of the spirit by the flesh. In the rolls of thewondrous music, in its shrieks, its pleadings, and its dying echoes, she heard voiced again the soul-lament of a weary world searchingvainly in the mazes of human thought for truth. As the wonderfulDeschamps danced weirdly before her in the ghastly light and fellgloating over her gory trophy, Carmen saw but the frantic struggles ofa diseased soul, portrayed as the skilled surgeon lays bare themalignant growth that is eating the quivering tissues of a humanframe. The immodesty of dress, the sensual suggestiveness of thedance, the brutal flouting of every element of refinement anddelicacy, blazoned in frenzied tone and movement the bloody orgy anddance of death which goes on incessantly upon the stage of human life, and ends in the mad whirl and confusion and insane gibbering over thelifeless trophies for which mankind sell their very souls. 

"About the limit of tolerance, eh?" commented Haynerd, when the finalcurtain dropped. "Yes, even to a vitiated taste. The passionate thirstfor the sensational has led to this sickening display of salacity--"

"Splendid, wasn't it?" came in tones of admiration from the socialsecretary, who had returned to conduct her charges back to the balconybefore the guests emerged from the theater. "You will run the programin full, and comment at some length on the expense attached, " she wenton. "You have just witnessed the private production of a full opera, unabridged, and with the regular operatic cast. Supper will follow ina half hour. Meantime, you will remain in the balcony where you werebefore. "

Returning to their former position, Carmen sank into a chair at thelittle table behind the screen, and strove to orient her thought. Haynerd sat down beside her to arrange his voluminous notes. Presentlyfootsteps were heard, and the sound of voices. Haynerd glanced throughthe hinge of the screen. "Ha!" he whispered, "here comes Amesand--who's with him? Ah, Representative Wales. Showing him about, Isuppose. "

Carmen gazed at the approaching men with fascinated eyes, although shesaw but one, the towering magician who had reared this fairy palace. She saw Ames lead his companion to the door of the little waiting roomat their right, and heard the congressman protest against entering. 

"But we can talk undisturbed in here, " urged Ames, his hand on thedoor. 

"Better remain out here on the balcony, " replied the congressmannervously, as he moved toward the railing. 

Ames laughed and shrugged his enormous shoulders. He understood theman's repugnance fully. But he humored him. 

"You know, Wales, " he said easily, going to the railing and peeringover at the brilliant assemblage below, "if I could get the heathenChinee to add an extra half-inch to his shirt length, I'd make ahundred millions. And then, perhaps, I wouldn't need to struggle withyour Ways and Means Committee as I do. By the way, the cotton schedulewill be reported out unchanged, I presume. " He turned and lookedquizzically at his companion as he said this. 

Wales trembled slightly when he replied to the question he had beenawaiting. "I think not, Mr. Ames. "

The giant's face clouded. "Parsons will vote for it, " he saidsuggestively. "What will you do?"

The congressman hesitated. "I--the party, Mr. Ames, is committed tothe high tariff principle. We can not let in a flood of foreigncotton--"

"Then you want the fight between the farmers and spinners to continue, eh?" interposed Ames cynically. "You don't seem to realize that in theend both will get more money than they are getting now, and that itwill come from the consumer, who will pay vastly higher for hisfinished products, in addition to the tariff. Do you get me?"

"It is a party principle, Mr. Ames, " returned the congressmantenaciously. 

"Look here, Wales, " said Ames, turning savagely upon his companion. "The cotton farmers are organizing. They have got to be stopped. Theircoöperative associations must be smashed. The tariff schedule whichyou have before your Committee will do it. And you are going to passit. "

"Mr. Ames, " replied the congressman, "I--I am opposed to the constantmanipulation of cotton by you rich men. I--"

"There, " interrupted Ames, "never mind explaining your conscientiousscruples. What I want to know is, do you intend to cast your vote forthe unaltered schedule?"

"N--no, Mr. Ames, I can't--"

"H'm, " murmured Ames. Then, with easy nonchalance, turning to anapparently irrelevant topic as he gazed over the railing, "I heardjust before coming from my office this evening that the doors of theMercantile Trust would not open to-morrow. Too bad! A lot of mypersonal friends are heavily involved. Bank's been shaky for sometime. Ames and Company will take over their tangible assets; I believeyou were interested, were you not?" He glanced at the trembling manout of the corners of his eyes. 

Wales turned ashen. His hands shook as he grasped the railing beforehim and tried to steady himself. 

"Hits you pretty hard, eh?" coolly queried Ames. 

"It--it--yes--very hard, " murmured the dazed man. "Are you--positive?"

"Quite. But step into the waiting room and 'phone the newspapers. Theywill corroborate my statements. "

Representative Wales was serving his first term in Congress. Hiselection had been a matter of surprise to everybody, himself included, excepting Ames. Wales knew not that his detailed personal history hadbeen for many months carefully filed in the vaults of the Ames tower. Nor did he ever suspect that his candidacy and election had beenmatters of most careful thought on the part of the great financierand his political associates. But when he, a stranger to congressionalhalls, was made a member of the Ways and Means Committee, hisastonishment overleaped all bounds. Then Ames had smiled his owngratification, and arranged that the new member should attend theformal opening of the great Ames palace later in the year. Meantime, the financier and the new congressman had met on several occasions, and the latter had felt no little pride in the attention which thegreat man had shown him. 

And so the path to fame had unrolled steadily before the guilelessWales until this night, when the first suspicions of his thraldom hadpenetrated and darkened his thought. Then, like a crash from a clearsky, had come the announcement of the Mercantile Trust failure. And ashe stood there now, clutching the marble railing, his thought busywith the woman and the two fair children who would be renderedpenniless by this blow, the fell presence of the monster Ames seemedto bend over him as the epitome of ruthless, brutal, inhuman cunning. 

"How much are you likely to lose by this failure?" the giant asked. 

Wales collected his scattered senses. "Not less than fifty thousanddollars, " he replied in a husky voice. 

"H'm!" commented Ames. "Too bad! too bad! Well, let's go below. Ha!what's this?" stooping and apparently taking up an object that hadbeen lying on the floor back of the congressman. "Well! well! yourbank book, Wales. Must have slipped from your pocket. "

Wales took the book in a dazed, mechanical way. "Why--I have no--thisis not mine, " he murmured, gazing alternately at the pass book and atAmes. 

"Your name's on it, at least, " commented Ames laconically. "And thebook's been issued by our bank, Ames and Company. Guess you'veforgotten opening an account there, let me see, yes, a week ago. " Hetook the book and opened it. "Ah, yes, I recall the incident now. There's your deposit, made last Friday. "

Wales choked. What did it mean? The book, made out in his name on Amesand Company, showed a deposit to his credit of fifty thousanddollars!

Ames slipped his arm through the confused congressman's, and startedwith him down the balcony. "You see, " he said, as they moved away, "the Mercantile failure will not hit you as hard as you thought. Now, about that cotton schedule, when you cast your vote for it, be surethat--" The voice died away as the men disappeared in the distance, leaving Carmen and Haynerd staring blankly at each other. 

"Well!" ejaculated Haynerd at length. "What now?"

"We must save them both, " said Carmen quietly. 

"I could make my everlasting fortune out of this!" exclaimed Haynerdexcitedly. 

"And lose your soul, " replied the girl. "But I will see Mr. Ames, andtell him that we overheard his conversation. He will save us all. "

Haynerd then smiled, but it was a hard smile, coming from one who knewthe world. "Listen, my dear girl, " he said, "we will keep quiet, youand I. To mention this would be only to court disaster at the hands ofone who would strangle us at the slightest intimation of ourknowledge. Can you not see the consequences to us?"

"I can see but the right, " returned Carmen determinedly. "And theright shall prevail!"

"But, my dear girl, " cried Haynerd, now thoroughly alarmed both forhimself and her, "he would ruin us! This is no affair of ours. We hadno intention of hearing; and so let it be as if we had not heard. "

"And let the lie of evil prevail? No, Mr. Haynerd, I could not, if Iwould. Mr. Ames is being used by evil; and it is making him a channelto ruin Mr. Wales. Shall I stand idly by and permit it? No!"

She rose, with a look of fixed resolution on her face. Haynerd sprangto his feet and laid a detaining hand upon her arm. As he did so, thescreen was quickly drawn aside, and Kathleen Ames and two of her youngcompanions bent their curious gaze in upon them. Absorbed in theirearnest conversation, Carmen and Haynerd had not heard the approach ofthe young ladies, who were on a tour of inspection of the house beforesupper. 

"Reporters for the Social Era, Miss Ames, " explained Haynerd, hastilyanswering the unspoken question, while he made a courteous bow. 

But Kathleen had not heard him. "What--you!" she cried, instantlyrecognizing Carmen, and drawing back. "How dared you! Oh!"

"What is it, dear?" asked one of the young ladies, as her eyes rovedover Carmen's tense, motionless figure. 

"You--creature!" cried Kathleen, spurting her venom at Carmen, whileher eyes snapped angrily and her hands twitched. "When the front dooris closed against you, you sneak in through the back door! Leave thishouse, instantly, or I shall have you thrown into the street!"

"Why, Kathleen dear!" exclaimed one of her companions. "She is only areporter!"

"She is a low, negro wench!" cried Kathleen maliciously. "She comesfrom a brothel! She foisted herself upon society, and was discoveredand kicked out! Her father is a dirty negro priest, and her mother alow--"

Haynerd rushed to the maddened girl and clapped his hand over hermouth. "Hush, for God's sake, Miss Ames!" Then, to her companions, "Take her away!" he pleaded. "And we will leave at once!"

But a house detective, attracted by the loud conversation, had come upand interposed. At his signal another one approached. "Bring Mr. Ames, " he quietly commanded. "I can not put them out if they have hispermission to remain, " he explained to the angry Kathleen. 

In a few moments, during which the little group stood tense and quiet, Ames himself appeared. 

"Well?" he demanded. "Ah!" as his eyes lighted upon Carmen. "My littlegirl! And--so this is your assistant?" turning inquiringly to Haynerd. "By George! Her article in last week's Social Era was a corker. But, "staring from Kathleen to the others, "what's the row?"

"I want that creature put out of the house!" demanded Kathleen, trembling with rage and pointing to Carmen. 

"Tut, tut, " returned Ames easily. "She's on business, and has mypermission to remain. But, by George! that's a good joke, " winking atHaynerd and breaking into a loud laugh. "You put one over on us there, old man!" he said. 

"Father!" Scalding tears of anger and humiliation were streaming downKathleen's face. "If she remains, I shall go--I shall leave thehouse--I will not stay under the same roof with the lewd creature!"

"Very well, then, run along, " said Ames, taking the humiliatedKathleen by the shoulders and turning her about. "I will settle thiswithout your assistance. " Then he motioned to the house detectives todepart, and turned to Haynerd and Carmen. "Come in here, " he said, leading the way to the little waiting room, and opening the door. 

"Lord! but you belong down stairs with the rest, " he ejaculated as hefaced Carmen, standing before him pale but unafraid. "There isn't onedown there who is in your class!" he exclaimed, placing his hands uponher shoulders and looking down into her beautiful face. "And, " hecontinued with sudden determination, "I am going to take you down, andyou will sit at the table with me, as my special guest!"

A sudden fear gripped Haynerd, and he started to interpose. But Carmenspoke first. 

"Very well, Mr. Ames, " she said quietly. "Take me down. I have aquestion to ask Mr. Wales when we are at the table. "

An expression of surprise and inquiry came into Ames's face. "Mr. Wales?" he said wonderingly. "You mean Congressman--"

Then he stopped abruptly, and looked searchingly at Carmen and hercompanion. Haynerd paled. Carmen stood unflinching. Ames's expressionof surprise gave place to one dark and menacing. 

"You were behind that screen when Congressman Wales and I--"

"Yes, " returned Carmen calmly. "I overheard all you said. I saw youbribe him. "

Ames stood like a huge, black cloud, glowering down upon the slendergirl. She looked up at him and smiled. 

"You are going to tell him that the fifty thousand dollars are just aloan, and that he may vote as he chooses, aren't you?" she said. "Youwill not ruin his life, and the lives of his wife and babies, willyou? You would never be happy, you know, if you did. " Her voice was asquiet as the morning breeze. 

"So!" the giant sneered. "You come into my house to play spy, eh? Andif I had not caught you when I did you would have written anotherinteresting article for the Social Era, wouldn't you? By God! I'llbreak you, Haynerd, and your infernal sheet into a million pieces ifyou dare print any such rot as this! And as for you, young lady--"

"You can do nothing to me, Mr. Ames; and you don't really want to, "said Carmen quickly. "My reputation, you know--that is, the one whichyou people have given me--is just as black as it could be, isn't it?So that is safe. " She laughed lightly. 

Then she became very serious again. "It doesn't really make anydifference to you, Mr. Ames, " she said, "whether the cotton scheduleis passed or not. You still have your millions--oh, so much morethan you will ever know what to do with! But Mr. Wales, he has hiswife and his babies and his good reputation--would you rob him ofthose priceless treasures, just to make a few dollars more foryourself?--dollars that you can't spend, and that you won't letothers have?"

During the girl's quiet talk Ames was regaining his self-control. Whenshe concluded he turned to Haynerd. "Miss Carmen can step out into thebalcony. You and I will arrange this matter together, " he said. 

Carmen moved toward the door. 

"Now, " said Ames significantly, and in a low voice, "what's yourprice?"

Instantly the girl turned back and threw herself between the two men. "He is not for sale!" she cried, her eyes flashing as she confrontedAmes. 

"Then, by God!" shouted Ames, who had lost himself completely, "I willcrush him like a dirty spider! And you, I'll drag you through thegutters and make your name a synonym of all that is vile inwomanhood!"

Carmen stepped quietly to the elevator and pressed the signal button. 

"You shall not leave this house!" cried the enraged Ames, startingtoward her. "Or you'll go under arrest!"

The girl drew herself up with splendid dignity, and faced himfearlessly. "We _shall_ leave your house, and now, Mr. Ames!" shesaid. "You and that for which you stand can not touch us! The carnalmind is back of you! Omnipotent God is with us!"

She moved away from him, then turned and stood for a moment, flashing, sparkling, radiant with a power which he could not comprehend. "Youknow not what you do. You are blinded and deceived by human lust andgreed. But the god you so ignorantly worship now will some day totterand fall upon you. Then you will awake, and you will see your presentlife as a horrid dream. "

The elevator appeared. Carmen and the dazed Haynerd stepped quicklyinto it and descended without opposition to the lower floor. A fewmoments later they were again in the street and hurrying to thenearest car line. 

"Girlie, " said Haynerd, mopping the perspiration from his brow, "we'rein for it now--and I shall be crushed! But you--I think your God willsave you. "

Carmen took his hand. "His arm is not shortened, " she murmured, "thatHe can not save us both. "

CHAPTER 5

ON the Monday morning following the Ames reception the society columnsof the daily papers still teemed with extravagant depictions of themagnificent affair. On that same morning, while Haynerd sat gloomilyin the office of the Social Era, meditating on his giant adversary'sprobable first move, Carmen, leaving her studies and classes, soughtout an unpretentious home in one of the suburbs of the city, and foran hour or more talked earnestly with the timid, frightened littlewife of Congressman Wales. Then, her work done, she dismissed thewhole affair from her mind, and hastened joyously back to theUniversity. She would have gone to see Ames himself. "But, " shereflected, as she dwelt on his conduct and words of the previousSaturday evening, "he is not ready for it yet. And when he is, I willgo to him. And Kathleen--well, I will help her by seeing only the realchild of God, which was hidden that night by the veil of hatred andjealousy. And that veil, after all, is but a shadow. "

That evening the little group of searchers after God assembled againin the peaceful precincts of the Beaubien cottage. It was their thirdmeeting, and they had come together reverently to pursue the mostmomentous inquiry that has ever stimulated human thought. 

Haynerd and Carmen had said little relative to the Ames reception; butthe former, still brooding over the certain consequences of his brushwith Ames, was dejected and distraught. Carmen, leaning upon hersustaining thought, and conceding no mite of power or intelligence toevil, glowed like a radiant star. 

"What are you listening to?" she asked of Haynerd, drawing him to oneside. "Are you giving ear to the voices of evil, or good? Which areyou making real to yourself? For those thoughts which are real to youwill become outwardly manifested, you know. "

"Bah! He's got us--tight!" muttered Haynerd, with a gesture signifyingdefeat. "And the insults of that arrogant daughter of his--"

"She did not insult me, " said Carmen quickly. "She could not, for shedoesn't know me. She merely denounced her concept of me, and not myreal self. She vilified what she thought was Carmen Ariza; but it wasonly her own thought of me that she insulted. Can't you see? And sucha concept of me as she holds deserves denouncing, doesn't it?"

"Well, what are we going to do?" he pursued testily. 

"We are going to know, " she whispered, "that we two with Godconstitute an overwhelming majority. " She said nothing about her visitto the Wales home that morning, but pressed his hand, and then went totake her place at the table, where Father Waite was already rappingfor order. 

"My friends, " began that earnest young man, looking lovingly about atthe little group, "as we are gathered here we symbolize thatanalytical, critical endeavor of the unbiased human mind to discoverthe essence of religion. Religion is that which binds us to absolutetruth, and so is truth itself. If there is a God, we believe from ourformer investigations that He must be universal mind. This beliefcarries with it as necessary corollaries the beliefs that He must beperfect, eternal, and self-existent. The question, Who made God? mustthen receive its sufficient answer in the staggering statement that Hehas always existed, unchanged and unchangeable. "

A sigh from Haynerd announced that quizzical soul's struggle to graspa statement at once so radical and stupendous. 

"True, " continued Father Waite, addressing himself to his doubtingfriend, "the acceptance as fact of what we have deduced in ourprevious meetings must render the God of orthodox theology quiteobsolete. But, as a compensation, it gives to us the most enlarged andbeautiful concept of Him that we have ever had. It ennobles, broadens, purifies, and elevates our idea of Him. It destroys forever ourbelittling view of Him as but a magnified human character, full ofwrath and caprice and angry threats, and delighting in humanceremonial and religious thaumaturgy. And, most practical of all forus, it renders the age-long problem of evil amenable to solution. "

Just then came a ring at the front door; and a moment later theBeaubien ushered Doctor Morton into the room. All rose and hastened towelcome him. 

"I--I am sure, " began the visitor, looking at Carmen, "that I am notintruding, for I really come on invitation, you know. Miss Carmen, first; and then, our good friend Hitt, who told me this afternoon thatyou would probably meet this evening. I--I pondered the matter somelittle time--ah, but--well, to make it short, I couldn't keep awayfrom a gathering so absolutely unique as this--I really couldn't. "

Carmen seized both his hands. "My!" she exclaimed, her eyes dancing, "I am glad you came. "

"And I, too, " interposed Haynerd dryly, "for now we have twotheological Philistines. I was feeling a bit lonely. "

"Ah, my friend, " replied the doctor, "I am simply an advocate ofreligious freedom, not a--"

"And religious freedom, as our wise Bill Nye once said, is but the artof giving intolerance a little more room, eh?" returned Haynerd with alaugh. 

The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "You are a Philistine, " he said. "Iam a human interrogation. "

Carmen took the doctor by the arm and led him to a place beside her atthe table. "You--you didn't bring poor Yorick?" she whispered, with aglint of mischief in her bright eyes. 

"No, " laughed the genial visitor, "he's a dead one, you told me. "

"Yes, " replied the girl, "awfully dead! He is an outward manifestationof dead human beliefs, isn't he? But now listen, Father Waite is goingto speak. "

After a brief explanation to the doctor of the purpose of themeeting, and a short résumé of their previous deductions, Father Waitecontinued the exposition of his subject. 

"The physical universe, " he said, "is to human beings a reality. Andyet, according to Spencer's definition of reality, we must admit thatthe universe as we see it is quite unreal. For the real is that whichendures. "

"And you mean to say that the universe will not endure?" queriedHaynerd abruptly. 

"I do, " replied Father Waite. "The phenomena of the universe, even aswe see it, are in a state of ceaseless change. Birth, growth, maturity, decay, and death seems to be the law for all thingsmaterial. There is perpetual genesis, and perpetual exodus. "

"But, " again urged Haynerd, "matter itself remains, is indestructible. "

"Not so, " said Father Waite. "Our friend, Doctor Morton, willcorroborate my statement, I am sure. "

The doctor nodded. "It is quite true, " he said in reply. "And asrevolutionary as true. The discovery, in the past few years, of thetremendously important fact that matter disintegrates and actuallydisappears, has revolutionized all physical science and rendered theworld's text books obsolete. "

"And matter actually disappears?" echoed Miss Wall incredulously. 

"Absolutely!" interposed Hitt. "The radium atom, we find, lasts someseventeen hundred years, or a trifle longer. What becomes of it whenit is destroyed? We can only say that it disappears from humanconsciousness. "

"And so you reason that the whole material universe will ultimatelydisappear from the human consciousness?"

"Yes, " returned Hitt, "I feel certain of it. Let us consider of whatthe universe consists. For many months I have been pondering thistopic incessantly. I find that I can agree, in a measure, with thosescientists who regard the physical universe as composed of only a fewelementary constituents, namely, matter, energy, space, and time--"

"Each one of these elements is mental, " interrupted Carmen. 

"Exactly!" replied Hitt. "And the physical universe, even from thehuman standpoint, is, therefore, wholly mental. "

"Well, but we see it!" ejaculated Haynerd. "And we feel and hear it!And I'm sure we smell it!"

Hitt laughed. "Do we?" he asked. 

"No, " interposed Father Waite; "we see only our mental concept of auniverse, for seeing is wholly a mental process. Our comprehension ofanything is entirely mental. "

"But now, " resumed Hitt, "to get back to the supposed reality of thephysical universe, let us examine its constituents. First, let usconsider its unity established by the harmonious interplay of theforces permeating it. This great fact is what led Herbert Spencer toconclude that the universe could have but one creator, one ruler, andthat polytheism was untenable. "

"We are quite agreed regarding that, " said Father Waite. "If theCreator is mind, He is of very necessity infinite and omnipotent;hence there can be but one Creator. "

"Very well, " continued Hitt. "Now as to time. Is it material ortangible? Would it exist, but as a convenience for the human mind? Isit not really a creation of that mind? And, lastly, is it not merely amental concept?"

"Our consciousness of time, " replied Carmen, "is only our awareness ofa continuous series of mental states. "

"That classifies it exactly, " said Hitt, "and renders it whollymental. And now as to space, " he resumed. "We are accustomed to say, loosely, that space is that in which we see things about us. But inwhat does the process of seeing consist? I say, I see a chair. What Ireally mean is that I am conscious of a chair. The process of seeing, we are told, is this: light, coming from the chair, enters the eye andcasts an image of the chair upon the retina, much as a picture isthrown upon the ground glass of a camera. Then, in some way, thelittle rods and cones--the branching tips of the optic nerve whichproject from the retina--are set in motion by the light-waves. Thisvibration is in some mysterious manner carried along the optic nerveto a center in the brain, and--well, then the mind becomes cognizantof the chair out there, that's all. "

They sat silent for some moments. Then Miss Wall spoke. "Do you meanto say, " she queried, "that, after thousands of years of thought andinvestigation, mankind now know nothing more than that about theprocess of seeing?"

"I do, " returned Hitt. "I confess it in all humility. "

"Then all I've got to say, " put in Haynerd, "is that the mostremarkable thing about you learned men is your ignorance!"

The doctor smiled. "I find it is only the fool who is cocksure, " hereplied. 

"Now, " said Hitt, resuming the conversation, "let us go a step furtherand inquire, first, What is light? since the process of seeing isabsolutely dependent upon it. "

"Light, " offered the doctor, "is vibrations, or wave-motion, sophysicists tell us. "

"Just so, " resumed Hitt. "Light, we say, consists of vibrations. Notvibrations of anything tangible or definitely material, but--well, just vibrations in the abstract. It is vibratory or wave motion. Nowlet us concede that these vibrations in some way get to the braincenter; and then let us ask, Is the mind there, in the brain, awaitingthe arrival of these vibrations to inform it that there is a chairoutside?"

Haynerd indulged in a cynical laugh. 

"It is too serious for laughter, my friend, " said Hitt. "For to suchcrude beliefs as this we may attribute all the miseries of mankind. "

"How is that?" queried Miss Wall in surprise. 

"Simply because these beliefs constitute the general belief in auniverse of matter without and about us. As a plain statement of fact, _there is no such thing_. But, I ask again, Is the mind within thebrain, waiting for vibrations that will give it information concerningthe external world? Or does the mind, from some focal point withoutthe brain, look first at these vibrations, and then translate theminto terms of things without? Do these vibrations in some way suggestform and color and substance to the waiting mind? Does the mind firstlook at vibrating nerve-points, and then form its own opinionsregarding material objects? Does anything material enter the eye?"

"No, " admitted the doctor; "unless we believe that vibrations _per se_are material. "

"Now I ask, Is the mind reduced to such slavery that it must dependupon vibrations for its knowledge of an outside world?" continuedHitt. "And vibrations of minute pieces of flesh, at that! Flesh thatwill some day decay and leave the mind helpless!"

"Absurd!" exclaimed Haynerd. "Why doesn't the mind look directly atthe chair, instead of getting its knowledge of the chair throughvibrations of bits of meat? Or isn't there any chair out there to lookat?"

"There!" exclaimed Hitt. "Now you've put your mental finger upon it. And now we are ready to nail to the cross of ignominy one of thecrudest, most insensate beliefs of the human race. _The human mindgets nothing whatsoever from vibrations, from the human, fleshly eye, nor from any one of the five so-called physical senses!_ The physicalsense-testimony which mankind believe they receive from the eyes, theears, and the other sense organs, can, even at best, consist only of alot of disconnected, unintelligible vibrations; and anything that themind may infer from such vibrations is inferred _without any outsideauthority whatsoever!"_

"Well!" ejaculated Miss Wall and Haynerd in a breath. 

"And, further, " continued Hitt, "we are forced to admit that all thatthe mind knows is the contents of itself, of its own consciousness, and nothing more. Then, instead of seeing, hearing, and feeling realmaterial objects outside of ourselves, we are in reality seeing, hearing, and feeling our own mental concepts of things--in otherwords, _our own thoughts of things!"_

A deep silence lay for some moments over the little group at theconclusion of Hitt's words. Then Doctor Morton nodded his acquiescencein the deduction. "And that, " he said, "effectually disposes of thequestion of space. "

"There is no space, Doctor, " replied Hitt. "Space is likewise a mentalconcept. The human mind sees, hears, and feels nothing but its ownthoughts. These it posits within itself with reference to one another, and calls the process 'seeing material objects in space. ' The mind aslittle needs a space in which to see things as in which to dream them. I repeat, we do not see external things, or things outside ofourselves. We see always and only the thoughts that are within our ownmentalities. Everything is within. "

"That's why, " murmured Carmen, "Jesus said, 'The kingdom of heaven iswithin you. '"

"Exactly!" said Hitt. "Did he not call evil, and all that originatesin matter, the lie about God? And a lie is wholly mental. I tell you, the existence of a world outside of ourselves, an objective worldcomposed of matter, is wholly inferred--it is mental visualizing--andit is unreal, for it is not based upon fact, upon truth!"

"Then, " queried Haynerd, "our supposed 'outer world' is but ourcollection of thought-concepts which we hold within us, within our ownconsciousness, eh?"

"Yes. "

"But--the question of God?"

"We are ready for that again, " replied Hitt. "We have said that in thephysical universe all is in a state of incessant change. Since thephysical universe is but a mental concept to each one of us, we mustadmit that, were the concept based upon truth, it would not change. Our concept of the universe must be without the real causative andsustaining principle of all reality, else would it not pass away. Andyet, beneath and behind all these changes, _something_ endures. Whatis it? Matter? No. There is an enduring substance, invisible to humansight, but felt and known through its own influence. Is it law? Yes. Mind? Yes. Ideas? Yes. But none of these things is in any sensematerial. The material is the fleeting, human concept, composed ofthought that is _not_ based upon reality. These other things, whollymental, or spiritual, if you prefer, are based upon that 'something'which does endure, and which I will call the Causative Principle. Itis the Universal Mind. It is what you loosely call God. "

"Then did God make matter?" persisted Haynerd. 

"I think, " interposed Doctor Morton at this juncture, "that I canthrow some light upon the immaterial character of matter, if I may soput it; for even our physical reasoning throws it entirely into therealm of the mental. "

"Good!" exclaimed Hitt. "Let us hear from you, Doctor. "

The doctor sat for some moments in a deep study. Then he began:

"The constitution of matter, speaking now from an admittedlymaterialistic standpoint, that of the physical sciences, is a subjectof vastest interest and importance to mankind, for human existence_is_ material. 

"The ultimate constituent of matter has been called the atom. But wehave said little when we have said that. The atom was once defined asa particle of matter so minute as to admit of no further division. That definition has gone to the rubbish heap, for the atom can now betorn to pieces. But--and here is the revolutionary fact in modernphysical science--_it is no longer held necessary that matter shouldconsist of material particles!_ In fact, the great potential discoveryof our day is that matter is electrical in composition, that it iscomposed of what are called 'electrons, ' and that these electrons arethemselves composed of electric charges. But what is an electriccharge? Is it matter? No, not as we know matter. Is it even material?We can not say that it is. It is without weight, bulk, dimensions, ortangibility. Well, then, it comes dangerously near being a mentalthing, known to the human mind solely by its manifestations, does itnot? And of course our comprehension of it is entirely mental, as isour comprehension of everything. "

He paused for a moment, that his words might be fully grasped. Then hewent on:

"Now these atoms, whatever they are, are supposed to join together toform molecules. What brings them together thus? Affinity, we are told. And what is affinity? Why, it is--well, law, if you please. And law? Amental thing, we must admit. Very good. Then, going a step further, molecules are held together by cohesion to form material objects, chairs, trees, coal, and the like. But what is cohesion? Is it glue?Cement? Ah, no! Again, it is law. And law is mental. "

"But, Doctor--" interrupted Haynerd. 

The doctor held up a detaining hand. "Let me finish, " he said. "Now wehave the very latest word from our physical scientists regarding theconstitution of matter: _it is composed of electric charges, heldtogether by law. _ Again, you may justly ask: Is matter material--ormental?"

He paused again, and took up a book that lay before him. 

"Here, " he continued, "I hold a solid, material, lumpy thing, composed, you will say, of matter. And yet, in essence, and if we canbelieve our scientists, this book is composed of billions of electriccharges--invisible things, without form, without weight, withoutcolor, without extension, held together by law, and making up amaterial object which has mass, color, weight, and extension. Frommillions of things which are invisible and have no size, we get anobject, visible and extended. "

"It's absurd!" exclaimed Miss Wall. 

"Granted, " interposed Hitt. "Yet, the doctor is giving the very latestdeductions of the great scientists. "

"But, Doctor, " said Father Waite, "the scientists tell us that theyhave experimental evidence in support of the theories which you havestated regarding the composition of matter. Electricity has beenproven granular, or atomic, in structure. And every electricalcharge consists of an exact number of electrical atoms spread outover the surface of the charged body. All this admits of definitecalculation. "

"Admitted, " said Hitt, taking up the challenge. "And their verycalculations and deductions are rapidly wearing away the 'materialistictheory' of matter. You will admit that mathematics is whollyconfined to the realm of mind. It is a strictly mental science, in noway material. It loses definiteness when 'practically' applied tomaterial objects. Kant saw this, and declared that a science might beregarded as further removed from or nearer to perfection in proportionto the amount of mathematics it contained. Now there has been anastonishing confirmation of this great truth just lately. At a banquetgiven in honor of the discoverer of wireless telegraphy it was statedthat the laws governing the traversing of space by the invisibleelectric waves were more exact than the general laws of physics, where very complex formulas and coefficients are required forcorrecting the general laws, due to surrounding material conditions. The greater exactness of laws governing the invisible electric waveswas said to be due to the absence of matter. And it was furtherstated that _whenever matter had to be taken into consideration therecould be no exact law of action!"_ "Which shows--?"

"That matter admits of no definite laws, " replied Hitt. "That thereare no real laws of matter. And that definiteness is attained only aswe dematerialize matter itself. "

"In other words, get into the realm of the mental?"

"Just so. And now for the application. I have said that we do notreceive any testimony whatsoever through the so-called materialsenses, but that we see, hear, feel, taste, and smell our ownthoughts--that is, the thoughts which, from some source, come into ourmentalities. Very well, our scientists show us that, as they getfarther away from dense material thoughts, and deal more and more withthose which have less material structure, less material composition, their laws become more definite, more exact. Following this out to itsultimate conclusion, we may say, then, that _only those laws whichhave to do with the non-material are perfect_. "

"And those, " said Carmen, "are the laws of mind. "

"Exactly! And now the history of physical science shows that there hasbeen a constant deviation from the old so-called fixed 'laws ofmatter. ' The law of impenetrability has had to go. A great physicisttells us that, when dealing with sufficiently high speeds, matter hasno such property as impenetrability. Mass is a function of velocity. The law of indestructibility has had to go. Matter deteriorates andgoes to pieces. The material elements are not fixed. The decidedtendency of belief is toward a single element, of which all matter iscomposed, and of which the eighty-odd constituent elements of matteraccepted to-day are but modifications. That unit element may be theether, of course. And the great Russian chemist, Mendeleef, sobelieved. But to us, the ether is a mental thing, a theory. But, granting its existence, _its universal penetrability renders matter, as we know it, non-existent_. Everything reduces to the ether, in thefinal analysis. And all energy becomes vibrations in and of theether. "

"And the ether, " supplemented the doctor, "has to be without mass, invisible, tasteless, intangible, much more rigid than steel, and atthe same time some six hundred billion times lighter than air, inorder to fulfill all the requirements made of it and to meet allconditions. "

"Yes; and yet the ether is a very necessary theory, if we are going tocontinue to explain the phenomena of force on a material basis. "

"But if we abandon that basis--?"

"Then, " said Carmen, "matter reduces to what it really is, the humanmind's _interpretation_ of substance. "

"Yes, " said Hitt, turning to her; "I think you are right; matter isthe way real substance--let us say, spirit--looks to the humanmentality. It is the way the human mind interprets its ideas ofspirit. In other words, the human mind looks at the material thoughtsand ideas which enter it, and calls them solid substance, occupyingspace--calls them matter, with definite laws, and, in certain forms, containing life and intelligence. "

"Aye, that is it!" said Father Waite. "And that has been the terriblemistake of the ages, the one great error, the one lie, that has causedus all to miss the mark and come short, far short, of the glory of themind that is God. _There is the origin of the problem of evil!_"

"Undoubtedly, " replied Hitt. "For evil is in essence but evil thought. And evil thought is invariably associated with matter. The origin ofall evil is matter itself. And matter, we find, is but a mentalconcept, a thing of thought. Oh, the irony of it!"

"Well, " put in Haynerd, who had been twitching nervously in his chair, "let's get to the conclusion of this very learned discussion. I'm aplain man, and I'd like to know just where we've landed. What have yousaid that I can take home with me? The earth still revolves around thesun, even if it is a mean mud ball. And I can't see that I can getalong with less than three square meals a day. "

"We have arrived, " replied Hitt gravely, "at a most momentousconclusion, deduced by the physical scientists themselves, namely, that _things are not what they seem_. In other words, all thingsmaterial seem to reduce to vibrations in and of the ether; the basisof all materiality is energy, motion, activity--mental things. All theelements of matter seem to be but modifications of one all-pervadingelement. That element is probably the ether, often called the 'motherof matter. ' The elements, such as carbon, silicon, and the others, arenot elementary at all, but are forms of one universal element, theether. Hence, atoms are not atoms. The so-called rare elements arerare only because their lives are short. They disintegrate rapidly andchange into other forms of the universal element--or disappear. 'Atomsare but fleeting phases of matter, ' we are told. They are by no meanseternal, even though they may endure for millions of years. "

"Y-e-s?" commented Haynerd with a yawn. 

"A great scientist of our own day, " Hitt continued, "has said that'the ether is so modified as to constitute matter, in some way. ' Whatdoes that mean? Simply that 'visible matter and invisible ether areone and the same thing. ' But to the five so-called physical senses theether is utterly incomprehensible. So, then, matter is whollyincomprehensible to the five physical senses. What is it, then, thatwe call matter? It can be nothing more than the human mind'sinterpretation of its idea of an all-pervading, omnipresent_something_, a something which represents substance to it. "

"Let me add a further quotation from the great physical scientist towhom you have referred, " said the doctor. "He has said that the etheris _not_ matter, but that it is material. And further, that we can notdeny that the ether may have some mental and spiritual functions tosubserve in some other order of existence, as matter has in this. Itis wholly unrelated to any of our senses. The sense of sight takescognizance of it, but only in a very indirect and not easilyrecognized way. And yet--stupendous conclusion!--_without the etherthere could be no material universe at all_!"

"In other words, " said Hitt, "the whole fabric of the materialuniverse depends upon something utterly unrecognizable by the fivephysical senses. "

"Exactly!" replied the doctor. 

"Then, " concluded Hitt, "the physical senses give us no informationwhatsoever of a real physical universe about us. "

"And so, " added Father Waite, "we come back to Carmen's statement, namely, that seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and feeling aremental processes, in no way dependent upon the outer fleshly organs ofsense--"

"Nonsense!" interjected Haynerd. "Why is it, then, that if the eyesare destroyed we do not see?"

"Simply, my friend, because of human belief, " replied Hitt. "The humanmind has been trained for untold centuries to dependence upon beliefsin the reality of matter, and beliefs in its dependence upon materialmodes for sight, hearing, touch, and so on. It is because of itserroneous beliefs that the human mind is to-day enslaved by matter, and dependent upon it for its very sense of existence. The human mindhas made its sense of sight dependent upon a frail, pulpy bit offlesh, the eye. As long as that fleshly organ remains intact, thehuman mind sees its sense of sight externalized in the positing of itsmental concepts about it as natural objects. But let that fleshly eyebe destroyed, and the human mind sees its belief of dependence uponthe material eye externalized as blindness. When the fleshly eye isgone the mind declares that it can no longer see. And what it declaresas truth, as fact, becomes externalized to it. I repeat, the humanmind sees and hears only its thoughts, its beliefs. And holding tothese beliefs, and making them real to itself, it eventually sees themexternalized in what it calls its outer world, its environment, itsuniverse. And yet, the materialistic scientists themselves show thatthe human mind can take no cognizance whatever through the fivephysical senses of the all-pervading basis of its very existence, theether. And the ether--alas! it is but a theory which we find necessaryfor any intelligible explanation of the farce of human existence on amaterial basis. "

"Now see here!" retorted Haynerd, rising and giving expression to hisprotest by means of emphatic gestures. "I'm getting mixed--badly! Youtell me that the existence of things demands a creator, and I admitit, for there can be no effect without a cause. Then you say that theuniverse is infinite; and I admit that, too, for the science ofastronomy finds no limits to space, and no space unoccupied. You saythat the unity manifested in the universe proves that there can be butone creator. Moreover, to create an infinite universe there must needsbe an omnipotent creator; and there can be but one who is omnipotent. I cordially agree. Further, I can see how that creator must bemind--infinite mind. And I can see why that mind must be absolutelyperfect, with no intelligence of evil whatsoever, else would it be ahouse divided against itself. And such a house must eventually fall. Now I admit that the universe must be the manifestation, theexpression, of that infinite creative mind. But--and here's thesticking point--the universe is both good and evil! Hence, the mindwhich it manifests is likewise both good and evil--and the wholepretty theory blows up!"

He sat down abruptly, with the air of having given finality to aperplexing question. 

All eyes then turned to Carmen, who slowly rose and surveyed thelittle group. 

"It is not surprising, " she said, smiling at the confused Haynerd, "that difficulties arise when you attempt to reach God through humanreasoning--spirit through matter. You have taken the unreal, and, through it, have sought to reach back to the real. "

"Well, " interrupted Haynerd testily, "kindly explain the difference. "

"Then, first, " replied Carmen, "let us adopt some common meetingground, some basis which we can all accept, and from which we canrise. Are you all agreed that, in our every-day life, everything ismental?--every action?--every object?--and that, as the philosopherMill said, 'Everything is a feeling of which the mind is conscious'?Let me illustrate my meaning, " she continued, noting Haynerd's risingprotest. "I see this book; I take it up; and drop it upon the table. Have I really seen a book? No; I have been conscious of thoughts whichI call a book, nothing more. A real material book did not get into mymind; but _thoughts_ of a book did. And the activity of such thoughtresulted in a state of consciousness--for consciousness is mentalactivity, the activity of thought. Remember that, even according toyour great physical scientists, this book is composed of millions ofcharges of electricity, or electrons, moving at a tremendously highrate of speed. And yet, regardless of its composition, I am consciousonly of my thoughts of the book. It is but my thoughts that I see, after all. "

She paused and waited for the protest which was not voiced. 

"Very well, " she said, continuing; "so it is with the sense of touch;I had the thought of touching it, and that thought I saw; I wasconscious of it when it became active in my mentality. So with sound;when I let the book drop, I was conscious of my thought of sound. Ifthe book had been dropped in a vacuum I should not have been consciousof a thought of sound--why? Because, as Mr. Hitt has told us, thehuman mind has made its sense-testimony dependent upon vibrations. Andyet, there is a clock ticking up there on the wall. Do you hear it?"

"Yes, " replied Haynerd; "now that you've called my attention to it. "

"Ah, yes, " replied the girl. "You hear it when your thought isdirected to it. And yet the air was vibrating all the time, and, ifhearing is dependent upon the fleshly ear, you should have heard itincessantly when you were not thinking of it, as well as you hear itnow when you are thinking of it. Am I not right?"

"Well, perhaps so, " assented Haynerd with some reluctance. 

"We hear, see, and feel, " continued the girl, "when our thought isdirected to these processes. And the processes are wholly mental--theytake place within our mentalities--and it is there, within our minds, that we see, hear, and feel _all_ things. And it is there, within ourminds, that the universe exists for us. It is there that we hold ourworld, our fleshly bodies, everything that we call material. _Theuniverse that we think we see all about us consists of the mentalconcepts, made up of thought, which we hold within our mentalities_. "

Haynerd nodded somewhat dubiously. Carmen proceeded with theexposition of her theme. 

"Whence come these material thoughts that are within us? And are theyreal? Can we control them? And how? They are real to us, at any rate, are they not? And if they are thoughts of pain and suffering anddeath, they are terribly real to us. But let us see, now that we canreason from the basis of the mental nature of all things. We haveagreed that the creative principle is mind, and we call it God. Thisinfinite mind constantly expresses and manifests itself in ideas. Why, that is a fundamental law of mind! You express yourself in your ideasand thoughts, which you try to externalize materially. But theinfinite mind expresses itself in an infinite number and variety ofideas, all, like itself, pure, perfect, eternal, good, without anyelements or seeds of decay or discord. And the incessant expression ofthe creative mind in and through its numberless ideas constitutes thenever-ending process of creation. "

"Let me add here, " interrupted Hitt, "that the Bible states that Godcreated the heavens and earth in seven days. But numbers, we mustremember, were mystical things to the ancient Hebrews, and werelargely used symbolically. The number seven, for example, was used toexpress wholeness, completeness. So we must remember that its use inGenesis has a much wider meaning than its absurd theologicalinterpretation into seven solar days. As Carmen says, the infinitecreative mind can never cease to express itself; creation can nevercease; and creation is but the whole, complete revelation orunfoldment of infinite mind's ideas. "

"And infinite mind, " continued Carmen, "requires infinite time inwhich to completely express itself. So time ceases to be, and we findthat all real things exist now, in an endless present. Now, the ideasof infinite mind range throughout the realm of infinity, but thegreatest idea that the creative mind can have is the idea of itself. That idea is the image and likeness of the infinite creative mind. Itis the perfect reflection of that mind--its perfect expression. Thatidea is what the man Jesus always saw back of the human concept ofman. _That idea is the real man_!"

"Well!" exclaimed Haynerd. "That's quite a different proposition fromthe mud-men that I do business with daily. What are they? Children ofGod?"

"If they were real, " said Carmen, "they would have to be children ofGod. But then they would not be 'mud-men. ' Now I have just spoken ofthe real, the spiritual creation. That is the creation mentioned inthe first chapter of Genesis, where all was created--revealed, unfolded--by God, and He saw that it was perfect, good. 'In thebeginning, ' says the commentator. That is, 'To begin with--God. 'Everything begins with God in the realm of the real. The creative mindis first. And the creation, or unfoldment, is like its creativeprinciple, eternal and good. "

"But, " persisted Haynerd, "how about the material man?"

"Having created all things spiritually, " continued the girl, "was itnecessary that the creative mind should repeat its work, do it overagain, and produce the man of dust described in the second chapter ofGenesis? Is that second account of the creation an inspiration oftruth--or a human comment?"

"Call it what you will, " said the cynical Haynerd; "the fact remainsthat the mud-man exists and has to be reckoned with. "

"Both of your premises are wholly incorrect, " returned the girlgently. "He does _not_ exist, excepting in human, mortal thought. Heis a product of only such thought. He and his material universe areseen and dealt with only in such thought. And such thought is thedirect antithesis of God's thought. And it is therefore unreal. It isthe supposition, the lie, the mist that went up and darkened theearth. "

"But--the human man--?"

"Is just what you have said, a hue of a man, a dark hue, the shadowyopposite which seems to counterfeit the real, spiritual man and claimall his attributes. He is not a compound of mind and matter, for wehave seen that all things are mental, even matter itself. He is a sortof mentality, a counterfeit of real mind. His body and his universeare in himself. And, like all that is unreal, he is transient, passing, ephemeral, mortal. "

"Yet, God made him!"

"No, for he does not exist, excepting in supposition. Does asupposition really exist? If so, then not even truth can destroy it. But supposition passes out before truth. No, the human mind is the'old man' of Paul. He is to be put off by knowing his nothingness, andby knowing the unreality of his supposed material environment anduniverse. As he goes out of consciousness, the real man, the idea ofGod, perfect, harmonious, and eternal, comes in. "

"And there, " said Father Waite impressively, "you have the wholescheme of salvation, as enunciated by the man Jesus. "

"There is no doubt of it, " added Hitt. "And, oh, my friends! howfutile, how base, how worse than childish now appear the wholetheological fabric of the churches, their foolish man-made dogmas, their insensate beliefs in a fiery hell and a golden heaven. Oh, howbelittling now appear their concepts of God--a God who can damnunbaptised infants, who can predestine his children to eternal sorrow, who creates and then curses his handiwork! Do you wonder that sin, sorrow, and death remain among us while such awful beliefs hold swayover the human mind? God help us, and the world!"

Haynerd, who had been sitting quietly for some moments, deep inthought, rose and held out his hands, as if in entreaty. "Don't--don't!"he exclaimed. "I can't hear any more. I want to think it all over. It seems--it seems as if a curtain had been raised suddenly. And what Isee beyond is--"

Carmen went swiftly to the man and slipped an arm about him. "Thatinfinite creative Mind, so misunderstood and misinterpreted by humanbeings, is back of you, " she whispered. "And it is Love. "

Haynerd turned and grasped her hands. "I believe it, " he murmured. "But had I not seen the proof in you, no amount of reasoning wouldhave convinced me. " And, bowing to the little group, he went out. 

"Well?" said Hitt, turning inquiringly to the doctor. 

The latter raised his head. "If these things are true, " he made answerslowly, "then I shall have to recast my entire mentality, my wholebasis of thinking. "

"It is just what you _must_ do, Doctor, if you would work out yoursalvation, " said Carmen. "Jesus said we must repent if we would besaved. Repentance--the Greek _metanoia_--means a complete and radicalchange of thought. "

"But--do you mean to say that the whole world has been mistaken? Thatthe entire human race has been deceived for ages?"

"Why, " said Hitt, "it was only in our own day, comparatively speaking, that the human race was undeceived in regard to the world being round. And there are thousands of human beings to-day who still believe inwitchcraft, and who worship the sun and moon, and whose lives arewholly under the spell of superstition. Human character, a greatscientist tells us, has not changed since history began. "

"But we can't revamp our thought-processes!"

"Then we must go on missing the mark, sinning, suffering, sorrowing, and dying, over and over and over again, until we decide that we cando so, " said Hitt. 

The doctor looked at Carmen and met that same smile of unbounded lovewhich she gave without stint to a sin-weary world. 

"I--I'll come again, " he said. "When? To-morrow night?"

"Yes, " said Carmen, rising and coming around to him. "And, " in awhisper, "bring Pat. "

CHAPTER 6

The Social Era had for many years made its weekly appearance everySaturday morning, that its fashionable clientele might appease theirjaded appetites on the Sabbath day by nibbling at its spicy pabulum. But, though the Ames reception had fallen on a Saturday night, thefollowing Friday morning found the columns of the Era still awaitinga report of the notable affair. For Haynerd's hand seemed paralyzed. Whenever he set his pen to the task, there loomed before him only thescene in the little waiting room, and he could write of nothing else. He found himself still dwelling upon the awful contrast between theslender wisp of a girl and her mountainous opponent, as they had stoodbefore him; and the terrifying thoughts of what was sure to follow inconsequence drenched his skin with cold perspiration. 

On the desk before him lay the essay which he had asked Carmen towrite during the week, as her report of the brilliant event. He hadread it through three times, and each time had read into it a newmeaning. He dared not run it. Not that it ridiculed or condemned--atleast, not openly--but because every one of its crisp commentsadmitted of an interpretation which revealed the hidden depths of thesocial system, and its gigantic incarnation, as if under the glare ofa powerful searchlight. It was in no sense a muck-raking exposition. Rather, it was an interpretation, and a suggestion. It was, too, aprediction; but not a curse. The girl loved those about whom shewrote. And yet, he who read the essay aright would learn that her lovestopped not at the flimsy veil of the flesh, but penetrated until itrested upon the fair spiritual image beyond. And then Haynerd saw thatthe essay was, in substance, a social clinic, to which all searchersafter truth were bidden, that they might learn a great lesson from herskillful dissection of the human mind, and her keen analysis of itsconstituent thought. 

As he sat wrapped in reflection, the early morning mail was broughtin. He glanced up, and then started to his feet. The letters spreadover his desk like an avalanche of snow; and the puffing mail carrierdeclared that he had made a special trip with them alone. Haynerdbegan to tear them open, one after another. Then he called the officeboy, and set him at the task. There were more than five hundred ofthem, and each contained a canceled subscription to the Social Era. 

A dark foreboding settled down over Haynerd's mind. He rose and wentto the card-index to consult his subscription list. It was gone! Hestood confusedly for a moment, then hastened to the window that lookedout upon a fire-escape. Its lock lay broken upon the floor. He turnedand rushed to the vault, which, reflecting his own habitualcarelessness, was never locked. His ledgers and account books were notthere. Then he crept back to his desk and sank into a chair. 

The noon mail brought more letters of like nature, until the officeboy tallied nearly eight hundred. Then Haynerd, as if rousing from adream, reached for the telephone and summoned Hitt to his rescue. TheSocial Era was foundering. Its mailing list had contained somefifteen hundred names. The subscription price was twelve dollars ayear--and never, to his knowledge, had it been paid in advance by hisultra-rich patrons, most of whom were greatly in arrears. Haynerd sawit all vanishing now as quietly as the mist fades before the summersun. 

Within an hour the wondering Hitt was in conference with him, andHaynerd had told the story of the theft, of the Ames bribe, and theencounter following. "But, " he cried, "can Ames kill my entiresubscription list, and in a single week?"

"Easily, " replied Hitt, "and in any one of several ways. Apparently hehad caused your subscription list and books to be stolen. Your sun hasset, Ned. Or, rather, Ames has lifted it bodily from the sky. "

"Then I'll shoot him! I'll--! But we've got the goods on him! Carmenand I saw him bribe Wales! We'll expose him!"

Hitt laughed. "Forget all that, " he said, laying a hand on the excitedman's arm. "Remember, that Wales would never dare breathe a word ofit; Carmen has no reputation or standing whatsoever now in this city;and Ames would make out a case of blackmail against you so quicklythat it would sweep you right into the Tombs. Go easy. And first, letus get the girl herself down here. "

He took the telephone and called up several of the Universitydepartments, after first ascertaining that she was not at her home. Then, having located her, he plunged into a study of the situationwith the distracted publisher. 

"That's the way of it!" cried Haynerd at length. "Here I waste myevenings in learned philosophical discussions with you people, andmeantime, while we're figuring out that there is no evil, thatmonster, Ames, stretches out a tentacle and strangles me! Finepractical discussions we've been having, ain't they? I tell you, I'mthrough with 'em!" He brought his fist down upon the desk with acrash. 

"Ned, " said Hitt, "you're a fool. "

"Sure I am!" shouted Haynerd. "Do I deny it? Here I had a nice, cleanbusiness, no work, good pay--and, just because I associated with youand that girl, the whole damn thing goes up the flue! Pays to be good, doesn't it? Nix!"

"H'm; well, Ned, you're not only a fool, but a blooming idiot, "replied Hitt calmly. 

"Lay it on! Lay it on thick!" roared Haynerd. "And if you run out ofepithets, I'll supply a few! I'm a--"

The door swung open, and Carmen entered, fresh as the sea breeze, andpanting with her haste. "Do you know, " she began eagerly, "two menfollowed me all the way down from the University! They watched mecome in here, and--but, what is wrong with you two?" She stopped andlooked inquiringly from one to the other. 

"Well, " began Hitt hesitatingly, "we were reflecting--"

"Reflecting? What? Good, or evil?" she demanded. 

"We were just holding a wake, that's all, " muttered Haynerd. 

"Then wake up!" she cried, seizing his hand. 

Hitt pushed out a chair for the girl, and bade her sit down. Then hebriefly related the events which had led to her being summoned. "Andnow, " he concluded, "the question is, does Wales know that you and Nedsaw Ames try to bribe him?"

"Why, of course he knows!" cried Carmen. "His wife told him. "

"And who informed her?"

"I did--last Monday morning, early, " answered the wondering girl. 

"Didn't I tell you?" ejaculated Haynerd, turning upon Hitt and wavinghis arms about. "What do you--"

"Hold your tongue, Ned!" interrupted Hitt. Then, to Carmen, "Why didyou tell her?"

"Why--to save her, and her husband, and babies! I told her because itwas right! You know it was right!"

"But, to save them, you have ruined Ned, " pursued Hitt. 

The girl turned to Haynerd, who sat doubled up in his chair, thepicture of despair. "I haven't ruined you, Ned. " It was the first timeshe had used this name in addressing him. "Things never happen, youknow. And if you have been pushed out of this business, it is becauseit isn't fit for you, and because you've been awakened. You are forhigher, better things than the publishing of such a magazine as theSocial Era. I knew you just couldn't stay at this work. You have gotto go up--"

"Eh!" Haynerd had roused out of his torpor. "Go up? Yes, I've gone up, nicely! And I was making ten thousand dollars a year out of it! It wasa bully proposition!" he blurted. 

The girl smiled. "I wasn't speaking of money, " she said. 

"But I was!" retorted Haynerd. "When I talk, it's in dollars andcents!"

"And that's why your talk is mostly nonsense, " put in Hitt. "Thegirl's right, I guess. You've stagnated here long enough, Ned. There'sno such thing as standing still. Progress is a divine demand. It's nowyour move. "

"But--good Lord! what am I to do?" wailed the man. 

"You now have a grand opportunity, " said Carmen, taking his hand. 

"Opportunity!"

"Yes; every trial in this life is an opportunity to prove that thereis no evil, " she said. "Listen; you have been trained as a publisher. Very well, the world is waiting for the right kind of publications. Oh, I've seen it for a long, long time. The demand is simplytremendous. Now meet it!"

Haynerd looked confusedly from Carmen to Hitt. The latter turned tothe girl. "What, exactly, do you mean, Carmen?" he asked. 

"Let him publish now a clean magazine, or paper; let him print realnews; let him work, not for rich people's money, but for all people. Why, the press is the greatest educator in the world! But, oh, how ithas been abused! Now let him come out boldly and stand for cleanjournalism. Let him find his own life, his own good, in service forothers. "

"But, Carmen, " protested Hitt, "do the people want clean journalism?Could such a paper stand?"

"It could, if it had the right thought back of it, " returned theconfident girl. 

Haynerd had again lapsed into sulky silence. But Hitt pondered thegirl's words for some moments. She was not the first nor the only onewho had voiced such sentiments. He himself had even dared to hold thesame thoughts, and to read in them a leading that came not frommaterial ambitions. Then, of a sudden, an idea flamed up in his mind. 

"The Express!" he exclaimed. 

Carmen waited expectantly. Hitt's eyes widened with his expandingthought. "Carlson, editor of the Express, wants to sell, " hecontinued, speaking rapidly. 

"It's a semi-weekly newspaper, printed only for country circulation;has no subscription list, " commented Haynerd, with a cynical shrug ofhis shoulders. 

"Buy it!" exclaimed Carmen. "Buy it! And change it into a daily! Makeit a real newspaper!"

Hitt looked into Carmen's glowing eyes. "How old are you?" he suddenlyasked. The abruptness of the strange, apparently irrelevant questionstartled the girl. 

"Why, " she replied slowly, "as old as--as God. And as young. "

"And, as human beings reckon time, eighteen, eh?" continued Hitt. 

She nodded, wondering what the question meant. Hitt then turned toHaynerd. "How much money can you scrape together, if you sell this lotof junk?" he asked, sweeping the place with a glance. 

"Five or six thousand, all told, including bank account, bonds, andeverything, I suppose, " replied Haynerd mechanically. 

"Carlson wants forty thousand for the Express. I'm not a rich man, aswealth is estimated to-day, but--well, oil is still flowing down inOhio. It isn't the money--it's--it's what's back of the cash. "

Carmen reached over and laid a hand on his arm. "We can do it, " shewhispered. 

Hitt hesitated a moment longer, then sprang to his feet. "And wewill!" he cried. "I've pondered and studied this scheme for a year, but I've only to-day seen the right help. That is your tremendous, driving thought, " he said, turning to Carmen. "That thought is aspiritual dynamite, that will blast its way through every materialobstacle! Ned, " seizing Haynerd by the shoulder and shaking him out ofhis chair, "rouse up! Your light has come! Now I'll 'phone Carlsonright away and make an appointment to talk business with him. You'llstand with me, Carmen?"

"Yes, " she said simply. 

"And you, Ned?"

Haynerd blinked for a few moments, like an owl in the light. But then, as a comprehension of Hitt's plan dawned upon his waking thought, hestraightened up. 

"Buy the Express! Make a real paper of it! A--but Ames?"

"He can't touch us! The clientele of the Express will not be made upof his puppets! Our paper will be for the people!"

"But--your University work, Hitt?"

"I give my last lecture next week. "

"And you, Carmen?"

"I was only biding my time, " she replied gently. "This is a real call. And my answer is: Here am I. "

Tears began to trickle slowly down Haynerd's cheeks, as the tension inhis nerves slackened. He rose and seized the hands of his two friends. "Hitt, " he said, in a choking voice, "I--I said I was a fool. But thatfellow's dead now. The real man has waked up, and--well, what are youstanding there for, you great idiot? Go and call up Carlson!"

 * * * * *

Again that evening the little group sat about the table in the diningroom of the Beaubien cottage. But only the three most directlyconcerned, and the Beaubien, knew that the owner of the Express hadreceived that afternoon an offer for the purchase of his newspaper, and that he had been given twenty-four hours in which to accept it. Doctor Morton was again present; and beside him sat his lifelongfriend and jousting-mate, the very Reverend Patterson Moore. Hitttook the floor, and began speaking low and earnestly. 

"We must remember, " he said, "in conjunction with what we have deducedregarding the infinite creative mind and its manifestations, that wemortals in our daily mundane existence deal only and always withphenomena, with appearances, with effects, and never with ultimatecauses. And so all our material knowledge is a knowledge ofappearances only. Of the ultimate essence of things, the human mindknows nothing. All of its knowledge is relative. A phenomenon may beso-and-so with regard to another; but that either is absolute truth wecan not affirm. And yet--mark this well--as Spencer says, 'Every oneof the arguments by which the relativity of our knowledge isdemonstrated distinctly postulates the positive existence of somethingbeyond the relative. '"

"And just what does that mean?" asked Miss Wall. 

"It is a primitive statement of what is sometimes called the 'Theoryof suppositional opposites'", replied Hitt. "It means that to everyreality there is the corresponding unreality. For every truth theremay be postulated the supposition. We can not, as the greatphilosopher says, conceive that our knowledge is a knowledge ofappearances only, without at the same time conceiving a reality ofwhich they are appearances. He further amplifies this by saying that'every positive notion--the concept of a thing by what it is--suggestsa negative notion--the concept of a thing by what it is not. But, though these mutually suggest each other, _the positive alone isreal_. ' Most momentous language, that! For, interpreted, it means: wemust deny the seeming, or that which appears to human sense, in orderto see that which is real. "

"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Miss Wall, glancing about to note theeffect of the speaker's words on the others. 

But Carmen nodded her thorough agreement, and added: "Did not Jesussay that we must deny ourselves? Deny which self? Why, the self thatappears to us, the matter-man, the dust-man, the man of the secondchapter of Genesis. We must deny his reality, and know that he isnothing but a mental concept, formed out of suppositional thought, outof dust-thought. And that is material thought. "

"Undoubtedly correct, " said Hitt, turning to Carmen. "But, before weconsider the astonishing teachings of Jesus, let us sum up theconclusions of philosophy. To begin with, then, there is a FirstCause, omnipotent and omnipresent, and of very necessity perfect. ThatCause lies back of all the phenomena of life; and, because of its realexistence, there arises the suppositional existence of its opposite, its negative, so to speak, which is unreal. The phenomena of humanexistence have to do _only_ with the suppositional existence of thegreat First Cause's opposite. They are a reflection of thatsupposition. Hence all human knowledge of an external world is butphenomenal, and consists of appearances which have no more realsubstance than have shadows. _We, as mortals, know but the shadowy, phenomenal existence. _ _We do not know reality. _ _Therefore, ourknowledge is not real knowledge, but supposition. _

"Now, " he went on hastily, for he saw an expression of protest onReverend Moore's face, "we are more or less familiar with a phenomenalexistence, with appearances, with effects; and our knowledge of theseis entirely mental. We see all things as thought. These thoughts, suchas feeling, seeing, hearing, and so on, we ignorantly attribute to thefive physical senses. This is what Ruskin calls the 'patheticfallacy. ' And because we do so, we find ourselves absolutely dependentupon these senses--in belief. Moreover, quoting Spencer again, onlythe absolutely real is the absolutely persistent, or enduring. Truth, for example. The truth of the multiplication table will endureeternally. It is real. But is it any whit material?"

"No, " admitted Miss Wall, speaking for the others. 

"And, as regards material objects which we seem to see and touch, "went on Hitt, "we appear to see solidity and hardness, and we conceiveas real objects what are only the mental signs or indications ofobjects. Remember, matter does not and can not get into the mind. Onlythoughts and ideas enter our mentalities. We see our _thoughts_ ofhardness, solidity, and so on; and these thoughts point to somethingthat is real. That _something_ is--what? I repeat: _the ideas of theinfinite creative Mind_. The thoughts of size, shape, hardness, and soon, which we group together and call material chairs, trees, mountains, and other objects, are but 'relative realities, ' pointingto the absolute reality, infinite mind and its eternal ideas andthoughts. "

He paused again for comments. But all seemed absorbed in hisstatements. Then he resumed:

"Our concept of matter, which is now proven to be but a mentalconcept, built up out of false thought, points to _mind_ as the realsubstance. Our concept of measurable space and distance is the directopposite of the great truth that infinite mind is ever-present. Ourconcept of time is the opposite of infinity. It is but humanlimitation. Age is the opposite of eternity--and the old-age thoughtbrings extinction. So, _to every reality there is the correspondingunreality_. The opposite of good is evil. If the infinite creativemind is good--and we saw that by very necessity it _must_ be so--thenevil becomes an awful unreality, and is real only to the false thoughtwhich entertains or holds it. If life is real--and infinite mind mustitself be life--then death becomes the opposite unreality. And, asJesus said, it can be overcome. But were it real, _no power_, _divineor human_, _could ever overcome or destroy it_!"

"Seems to me, " remarked Haynerd dryly, "that our study so far simplygoes to show, as Burke puts it, 'what shadows we are and what shadowswe pursue. '"

Hitt smiled. "When the world humiliates itself to the point that itwill accept that, my friend, " he said, "then it will become receptiveto truth. 

"But now let us go a little further, " he went on. "The great Lamarckvoiced a mighty fact when he said, 'Function precedes structure. ' Forby that we mean that the egg did not produce the bird, but the birdthe egg. The world seems about to pass from the very foolish beliefthat physical structure is the cause of life, to the great fact that a_sense_ of life produces the physical structure. The former crudebelief enslaved man to his body. The latter tends to free him fromsuch slavery. "

"You see, Doctor, " interrupted Carmen, "the brain which you werecutting up the other day did not make poor Yorick's mind and thought, but his mind made the brain. "

The doctor smiled and shook a warning finger at the girl. 

"The body, " resumed Hitt, "is a manifestation of the human mind'sactivity. What constitutes the difference between a bird and a steamengine? This, in part: the engine is made by human hands from without;the bird makes itself, that is, its body, from within. So it is withthe human body. But the ignorant human mind--ignorant _per se_--fallsa slave to its own creation, the mental concept which it calls itsphysical body, and which it pampers and pets and loves, until it cancling to it no longer, because the mental concept, not being based onany real principle, is forced to pass away, having nothing but falsethought to sustain it. "

"But now, " interposed Haynerd, who was again waxing impatient, "justwhat is the practical application of all this abstruse reasoning?"

"The very greatest imaginable, my friend, " replied Hitt. "A real thingis real forever. And so matter can not become non-existent _unless itis already nothing_! The world is beginning to recognize thetremendous fact that from nothing nothing can be made. Very well, since the law of the conservation of energy seems to be established asregards energy _in toto_, why, we must conclude that there is no suchthing as _annihilation_. And that means that _there is no such thingas absolute creation_! Whatever is real has always existed. The shadownever was real, and does not exist. And so creation becomes unfolding, or revelation, or development, of what already exists, and has alwaysexisted, and always will exist. Therefore, if matter, and all itincludes as concomitants, evil, sin, sickness, accident, chance, lack, and death, is based upon unreal, false thought, then it can all beremoved, put out of consciousness, by a knowledge of truth and areversal of our accustomed human thought-processes. "

"And that, " said Carmen, "is salvation. It is based on righteousness, which is right-thinking, thinking true thoughts, and thinking truly. "

"And knowing, " added Hitt, "that evil, including matter, is thesuppositional opposite of truth. The doctrine of materialism has beenutterly disproved even by the physicists themselves. For physicistshave at last agreed that inertia is the great essential property ofmatter. That is, matter is not a cause, but an effect. It does notoperate, but is operated upon. It is not a law-giver, but is subjectto the human mind's so-called laws concerning it. It of itself isutterly without life or intelligence. 

"Very good, " he continued. "Now Spencer said that matter was amanifestation of an underlying power or force. Physicists tell us thatmatter is made of electricity, that it is an electrical phenomenon, and that the ultimate constituent of matter is the electron. Theelectron is said by some to be made up of superimposed layers ofpositive and negative electricity, and by others to be made up of onlynegative charges. I rather prefer the latter view, for if composed ofonly negative electricity it is more truly a negation. Matter is the_negative_ of real substance. It is a sort of negative truth. 

"Now electricity is a form of energy. Hence matter is a form ofenergy also. But our comprehension of it is _wholly mental_. Energy ismental. The only real energy there is or can be is the energy of theinfinite mind we call God. This the human mind copies, or imitates, by reason of what has been called 'the law of suppositionalopposites, ' already dwelt upon at some length. Everything manifeststhis so-called law. Electricity is both positive and negative. Gravitation is regarded by some physicists as the negative aspect ofradiation-pressure, the latter being the pressure supposed to beexerted by all material bodies upon one another. The third law ofmotion illustrates this so-called law, for it states that actionand reaction are equal and opposite. There can be no positive actionwithout a resultant negative one. The truth has its lie. The divinemind, God, has His opposite in the communal human, or mortal, mind. The latter is manifested by the so-called minds which we call mankind. And from these so-called minds issue matter and material forms andbodies, with their so-called material laws. 

"Yes, the material universe is running down. Stupendous fact! Theentire human concept is running down. Matter, the human mentalconcept, is not eternally permanent. Neither, therefore, are itsconcomitants, sin and discord. Matter disintegrates and passesaway--out of human consciousness. The whole material universe--theso-called mortal-mind concept--is hastening to its death!"

"But as yet I think you have not given Mr. Haynerd the practicalapplication which he asks, " suggested Father Waite, as Hitt pausedafter his long exposition. 

"I am now ready for that, " replied Hitt. "We have said that thematerial is the relative. So all human knowledge is relative. But, that being so, we can go a step further and add that human error islikewise relative. And now--startling fact!--_it is absolutelyimpossible to really know error_!"

"Why--!" burst from the incredulous Miss Wall. 

"Well?" said Hitt, turning to her. "Can you know that two plus twoequals seven?"

"N--no. "

"Let me make this statement of truth: nothing can be known definitelyexcept as it is explained by the principle which governs it. Now whatprinciple governs an error, whether that error be in music, mathematics, or life conduct?"

There was no reply to the question. 

"Very well, " continued Hitt. "Evil can not be really known. And thatis why God--infinite Mind--can not behold evil. And now, friends, Ihave come to the conclusion of a long series of deductions. Ifinfinite mind is the cause and creator, that is, the revealer, of allthat really exists, its suppositional opposite, its negative, mustlikewise simulate a creation, or revelation, or unfolding, for thisopposite must of very necessity pose as a creative principle. It mustsimulate all the powers and attributes of the infinite creative mind. If the creative mind gave rise to a spiritual universe and spiritualman, by which it expresses itself, then this suppositional oppositemust present its universe and its man, opposite in every particular tothe reality. _It is this sort of man and this sort of universe thatwe, as mortals, seem to see all about us, and that we refer to ashuman beings and the physical universe. _ And yet, all that we see, feel, hear, smell, or taste is the false, suppositional thought thatcomes into our so-called mentalities, and by its suppositionalactivity there causes what we call consciousness or awareness ofthings. "

"Then, " said Father Waite, more to enunciate his own thought than toquestion the deduction, "what the human consciousness holds asknowledge is little more than belief and speculation, with no basis oftruth, no underlying principle. "

"Just so. And it brings out the fruits of such beliefs in discord, decay, and final dissolution, called death. For this human consciousnessforms its own concept of a fleshly body, and a mind-and-matter man. Itmakes the laws which govern its body, and it causes its body to obeythese false laws. Upon the quality of thought entering this humanconsciousness depend all the phenomena of earthly life and environmentwhich the mortal experiences. The human consciousness, in other words, is a _self-centered mass of erroneous thought, utterly without any basisof real principle, but actively engaged in building up mental images, and forming and maintaining an environment in which it supposesitself to live_. _This false thought in the human consciousness formsinto a false concept of man, and this is the soul-and-body man, themind-and-matter man, which is called a human being, or a mortal. _"

"And there, " commented Carmen, with a dreamy, far-away look, "we havewhat Padre Josè so long ago spoke of as the 'externalization ofthought. ' It is the same law which Jesus had in mind when he said, 'Asa man thinketh in his heart, so is he. '"

"Yes, " said Hitt. "For we know only what enters our mentalities andbecomes active there. And every thought that does so enter, tends atonce to become externalized. That is, there is at once the tendencyfor us to see it visualized in some way, either as material object, orenvironment, or on our bodies. And it is the very activity of suchthought that constitutes the human mentality, as I have alreadysaid. "

"And that thought is continually changing, " suggested Father Waite. 

"Just so. Its very lack of true principle requires that it shouldchange constantly, in order to simulate as closely as possible thereal. That accounts for the fleeting character of the whole humanconcept of man and the physical universe. The human personality isnever fixed, although the elements of human character remain; that is, those elements which are essentially unreal and mortal, such as lust, greed, hatred, and materiality, seem to remain throughout the ages. They will give way only before truth, even as Paul said. But not untiltruth has been admitted to the human mentality and begins its solventwork there, the work of denying and tearing down the falsethought-concepts and replacing them with true ones. "

"And will truth come through the physical senses?" asked Miss Wall. 

"No, decidedly no!" said Hitt. "The physical senses testify ofnothing. Their supposed testimony is the material thought which entersthe human mentality and becomes active there, resulting in humanconsciousness of both good and evil. And that thought will have togive way to true thought, before we can begin to put off the 'old man'and put on the 'new. ' Human thoughts, or, as we say, the physicalsenses, do not and can not testify of absolute truth. They do not knowGod. "

"Ha!" exclaimed Haynerd, rousing up. "There goes the Church, andoriginal sin, and fallen man!"

"There is no such thing as 'fallen man, ' my friend, " said Hittquietly. "The spiritual man, the image and likeness, the reflection, of the infinite creative mind, is perfect as long as its principleremains perfect--and that is eternally. The mortal man never wasperfect. He is a product of false, suppositional thought. He is notand never was man. He did not fall, because he has had no perfectionto lose. "

Reverend Patterson Moore, who had sat a silent, though not whollysympathetic listener throughout the discussion, could now no longerwithhold his protest. "No wonder, " he abruptly exclaimed, "that thereare so few deep convictions to-day concerning the great essentials ofChristianity! As I sit here and listen to you belittle God and rendthe great truths of His Christ, as announced in His Word, the Bible, Iam moved by feelings poignantly sorrowful! The Christ has once beencrucified; and will you slay him again?"

"No, " said Carmen, her eyes dilating with surprise, "but we wouldresurrect him! Don't you think you have kept him in the tomb longenough? The Christ-principle is intended for use, not for endlessburial!"

"I? My dear Miss Carmen, it is I who preach the risen Christ!"

"You preach human theology, Mr. Moore, " returned the girl. "Andbecause of centuries of such preaching the world has steadily sunkfrom the spiritual to the material, and lip service has taken theplace of that genuine spiritual worship which knows no evil, andwhich, because of that practical knowledge, heals the sick and raisesthe dead. "

"You insinuate that--?"

"No, I state facts, " said Carmen. "Paul made some mistakes, for he wasconsumed with zeal. But he stated truth when he said that the secondcoming of Christ would occur when the 'old man' was put off. We havebeen discussing the 'old man' to-night, and showing how he may be putoff. Now do you from your pulpit teach your people how that may bedone?"

"I teach the vicarious atonement of the Christ, and prepare my flockfor the world to come, " replied the minister with some heat. 

"But I am interested in the eternal present, " said the girl, "not in asuppositional future. And so was Jesus. The world to come is righthere. 'I am that which is, and which was, and which is to come, ' saysthe infinite, ever-present mind, God!"

"I see no Christianity whatsoever in your speculative philosophy, "retorted the minister. "If what you say is true, and the world shouldaccept it, all that we have learned in the ages past would be blottedout, and falsehood would be written across philosophy, science, andreligion. By wafting evil lightly aside as unreal, you dodge theissue, and extend license to all mankind to indulge it freely. Evil isan awful, a stupendous fact! And it can not be relegated to the realmof shadow, as you are trying to do!"

"Did Jesus regard it as a reality?" she asked. "You know, Duns Scotussaid: 'Since there is no real being outside of God, evil has nosubstantial existence. Perfection and reality are synonyms, henceabsolute imperfection is synonymous with absolute unreality. ' DidJesus know less than this man? And do you really think he looked uponevil as a _reality_?"

"He most certainly did!"

"Then, if that is true, " said the girl, "I will have to reject him. But come, we are right up to the point of discussing him and histeachings, and that will be the subject of our next meeting. Will youjoin us, Mr. Moore? It is love, you know, that has drawn us alltogether. You'll come?"

"It's an open forum, Moore, " said the doctor, patting him on the back. "Wisdom isn't going to die with you. Come and get a new viewpoint. "

"I am quite well satisfied with my present one, Doctor, " replied theminister tartly. 

"Well, then, come and correct us when we err. It's your duty to saveus if we're in danger, you know. "

"He will come, " said Hitt. "And now, Carmen, the piano awaits you. Bythe way, what did Maitre Rossanni tell you?"

"Oh, " replied the girl lightly, "he begged me to let him train me forGrand Opera. "

"Yes?"

"He said I would make a huge fortune, " she laughed. 

"And so you would! Well?"

"I told him I carried my wealth with me, always, and that my fortunewas now so immense that I couldn't possibly hope to add to it. "

"Then you refused the chance!"

"My dear Mr. Hitt, " she said, going to him and looking up into hisface, "I am too busy for Grand Opera and money-making. My voicebelongs to the world. I couldn't be happy if I made people pay to hearme sing. "

With that she turned and seated herself at the piano, where shelaunched into a song that made the very Reverend Patterson Moore raisehis glasses and stare at her long and curiously. 

CHAPTER 7

Man reasons and seeks human counsel; but woman obeys her instincts. Carmen did this and more. Her life had been one of utter freedom fromdependence upon human judgment. The burden of decision as to thewisdom of a course of action rested always upon her own thought. Neverdid she seek to make a fellow-being her conscience. When the day ofjudgment came, the hour of trial or vital demand, it found herstanding boldly, because her love was made perfect, not throughinstinct alone, but through conformity with the certain knowledge thathe who lacks wisdom may find it in the right thought of God and man. And so, when on the next day she joined Hitt and Haynerd in the officeof the Social Era, and learned that Carlson had met their terms, eagerly, and had transferred to them the moribund Express, she had noqualms as to the wisdom of the step which they were taking. 

But not so her companions. Haynerd was a composite picture of doubtand fear, as he sat humped up in his chair. Hitt was serious to thepoint of gloom, reflecting in a measure his companion's dismalforebodings. 

"I was scared to death for fear he wouldn't sell, " Haynerd was sayingas the girl entered; "and I was paralyzed whenever I thought that hewould. "

Carmen laughed aloud when she heard these words. "Do you know, " shesaid, "you remind me of Lot's wife. She was told to go ahead, alongthe right course. But she looked back--alas for her! Now you two beingstarted right are looking back; and you are about to turn to salttears!

"Now listen, " she continued, as Haynerd began to remonstrate; "don'tvoice a single fear to me! You couldn't make me believe them true evenif you argued for weeks--and we have no time for such foolishnessnow. The first thing that you have got to do, Ned, is to start alittle cemetery. In it you must bury your fears, right away, andwithout any mourning. Put up little headstones, if you wish; but don'tever go near the place afterward, excepting to plant the insults, andgibes, and denouncements, and vilifications which the human mind willhurl at you, once the Express starts out on its new career. Good isbound to stir up evil; and the Express is now in the business of good. Remember, the first thing the Apostles always did was to be afraid. And they kept Jesus busy pointing out the nothingness of theirfears. "

"Business of good!" retorted Haynerd savagely. "I guess we'll findourselves a bit lonely in it, too!"

"True, humanly speaking, " replied the girl, taking a chair beside him. "But, Ned, let me tell you of the most startling thing I have found inthis great, new country. It is this: you Americans have, oh, so muchanimal courage--and so little true moral courage! You know that thepress is one of the most corrupt institutions in America, don't you?The truth is not in it. Going into thousands of homes every day, it isa deadlier menace than yellow fever. You know that it is muzzled byso-called religious bodies, by liquor interests, by vice-politicians, by commercialism, and its own craven cowardice. And yet, Ned, despiteyour heart-longing, you dare not face the world and stand boldly forrighteousness in the conduct of the Express!

"Now, " she went on hurriedly, "let me tell you more. While you havebeen debating with your fears as you awaited Mr. Carlson's decision, Ihave been busy. If I had allowed my mentality to become filled withfear and worry, as you have done, I would have had no room for real, constructive thought. But I first thanked God for this grandopportunity to witness to Him; and then I put out every mentalsuggestion of failure, of malicious enmity from the world, and fromthose who think they do not love us, and with it every subtle argumentabout the unpreparedness of the human mind for good. After that I setout to visit various newspaper offices in the city. I have talked withfour managing and city editors since yesterday noon. I have theirviewpoints now, and know what motives animate them. I know what theythink. I know, in part, what the Express will have to meet--and how tomeet it. "

Both men stared at her in blank amazement. Haynerd's jaw dropped as hegazed. He had had a long apprenticeship in the newspaper field, butnever would he have dared attempt what this fearless girl had justdone. 

"I have found out what news is, " Carmen resumed. "It is wholly _ahuman invention_! It is the published vagaries of the carnal mind. Inthe yellow journal it is the red-inked, screaming report of thetragedies of sin. I asked Mr. Fallom if he knew anything about mentallaws, and the terrible results of mental suggestion in his paper'salmost hourly heralding of murder, theft, and lust. But he onlylaughed and said that the lurid reports of crime tended to keep peoplealive to what was going on about them. He couldn't see that he wasmaking a terrible reality of every sort of evil, and holding it soconstantly before an ignorant, credulous world's eyes that little elsecould be seen. The moral significance of his so-called news reportshad no meaning whatsoever for him!"

"Did you go to see Adams?" asked Haynerd, not believing that she wouldhave dared visit that journalistic demon. 

"Yes, " answered the girl, to his utter astonishment. "Mr. Adams saidhe had no time for maudlin sentimentalism or petticoat sophistry. Hewas in the business of collecting and disseminating news, and hewanted that news to go _shrieking_ out of his office! Here is one ofhis afternoon extras. You can see how the report of an Italianwife-murder shrieks in red letters an inch high on the very firstpage. But has Mr. Adams thereby seen and met his opportunity? Or hashe further prostituted journalism by this ignorant act?"

"The people want it, Carmen, " said Hitt slowly, though his voiceseemed not to sound a real conviction. 

"They do not!" cried Carmen, her eyes snapping. "If the church and thepress were not mortally and morally blind, they would see the deadlydestruction which they are accomplishing by shrieking from pulpit andsanctum: 'Evil is real! Pietro Lasanni cuts his wife's throat! Evil isreal! Look, and be convinced!'"

"But, Carmen, while what you say is doubtless true, it must beadmitted that the average man, especially the day laborer, reads hisyellow journal avidly, and--"

"Yes, he does, " returned the girl. "And why? The average man, asyou call him, is a victim of _the most pernicious social systemever devised by the human mind_! Swept along in the mad rush ofcommercialism, or ground down beneath its ruthless wheels, hisjaded, jarred nerves and his tired mind cry out for artificialstimulation, for something that will for a moment divert his weariedthought from his hopeless situation. The Church offers him littlethat is tangible this side of the grave. But whiskey, drugs, andyellow journalism do. Can't you see, Mr. Hitt--can't you, Ned--thatthe world's cry for sensationalism is but a cry for something thatwill make it forget its misery for a brief moment? The average manfeels the superficiality of the high speed of this century of madrush; he longs as never before for a foundation of truth upon which torest; he is tired of theological fairy-tales; he is desperatelytired of sin, and sickness, and dying. He cares little about apromised life beyond the grave. He wants help here and now to solvehis problems. What does the press offer him? Little beyond a recountof his own daily miseries, and reports of graft and greed, andaccounts of vulgar displays of material wealth that he has not andcan not have. And these reports divert his jaded mind for a moment andgive him a false, fleeting sense of pleasure--and then leave himsunk deeper than before in despair, and in hatred of existingconditions!"

"The girl is right, " said Hitt, turning to Haynerd. "And we knew it, of course. But we have let our confidence slip. This steam-calliopeage reflects the human-mind struggle for something other than its ownunsatisfying ideas. It turns to thrills; it expresses its restlessnessand dissatisfaction with itself by futurist and cubist art, so-called;by the rattle and vibration of machinery; by flaring billboards thatinsult every sense of the artistic; and by the murk and muck of yellowjournalism, with its hideous colored supplements and spine-thrillingtales. So much for the reader. But the publisher himself--well, hebattens materially, of course, upon the tired victims of our degradingsocial system. He sees but the sordid revenue in dollars and cents. Beyond that his morals do not extend. "

"And they can't, " said Haynerd. "Decent journalism wouldn'tpay--doesn't--never did! Other papers have tried it, and miserablyfailed!"

"Then, " returned Hitt calmly, after a moment's reflection, "oil willmeet the deficit. As long as my paternal wells flow in Ohio theExpress will issue forth as a clean paper, a dignified, law-supportingpurveyor to a taste for better things--even if it has to create thattaste. Its columns will be closed to salacious sensation, and itsadvertising pages will be barred to vice, liquor, tobacco, anddrugs. "

"Good!" cried Carmen. "And now we've got to get right down tobusiness. "

"Just so, " said Hitt, rising. "It is my intention to issue the Expressone more week on its present basis, and then turn it into a pennymorning daily. I have seen and talked with its staff. They're goodmen. I'm going to assume the management myself, with you, Carmen, asmy first assistant. Haynerd will become city editor. Now, whatsuggestions have you?"

"Oh, lots!" cried the girl enthusiastically. "But, first, how far mayI go?"

"The limit, " replied Hitt, rubbing his hands together. "You are mybrain, so to speak, henceforth. As to financial resources, I amprepared to dump a hundred thousand dollars right into the Expressbefore a cent of revenue comes back. "

"Another question, then: will you issue a Sunday edition?" she asked. 

"For a while, yes, " he said. "We'll see how it works, for I have someideas to try out. "

"Well, then, " resumed the girl eagerly, "I want this paper to be for_all_ the people; to be independent in the truest sense of the term;and to be absolutely beyond the influence of political and religioussectarianism--you'll soon enough learn what that will cost you--to bean active, constructive force in this great city, and a patient, tireless, loving educator. "

"Humph!" grunted Haynerd, although he was listening very carefully. 

"The Express will succeed, " the girl went on, without noticing him, "because our thought regarding it is successful. _We_ have alreadysucceeded; and that success will be externalized in our work. It makesno difference what the people may think of _us_; but it makes a lot ofdifference what _we_ think of _them_ and _ourselves_. Now, our programis unlimited. We assume superiority over adverse conditions, and weclaim success, because we know that these things are mental, and thatthey are divinely ours. Lot's wife didn't have the sort of confidencethat wins--she looked back. Our bridges are burnt behind us now. Butthere is no doubt of the outcome. And so there is no doubt lurking inus to take the edge off our efforts, is there? The thought regardingthe Express has not been timidly born within us; it has come forthflashing vigor! Yes it has, Ned, despite your doubts! And we havewithin us a power mightier than any force outside of us. That is theknowledge of infinite mind's omnipotence, and our ability to use theChrist-principle to meet _every_ problem. Is it not so?"

Haynerd began to rouse up with a returning sense of confidence. Hittsmiled and nodded to Carmen. The girl went on rapidly and eagerly:

"We are going to give the people news from a new standpoint, aren'twe? We are not going on the assumption that the report of mankind'serrors is the report of real news. The only thing that is really newis _good_. We'll report that. When I was in Mr. Adams's office twoitems came in over the 'phone. One was the report of a jewel robbery, and the other was an announcement of the draining by the Government ofsubmerged lands in Louisiana, so as to give an additional opportunityto those seeking farms. Which item did Mr. Adams put in bold type onthe front page? The first, yes. I was unable to locate the latteranywhere in the paper, although it was a timely bit of news. "

"Very true, " replied Hitt. 

"Now another thing, " continued the girl, "I want the Sunday edition ofthe Express to contain a résumé of the important and vital news of theweek, with the very clearest, most impartial and enlighteningeditorial comment upon it. This calls for nice discrimination in theselection of those items for our comment. It means, however, the bestpractical education for the people. This was John Ruskin's idea, andcertainly is a splendid one. Still another thing, the Express willstand shoulder to shoulder with the women for equal suffrage. Are youagreed?"

"Most emphatically!" declared Hitt. "It is the women who will clean upand regenerate this world, not the men. Reform is now in the hands ofthe women. They have been held back long enough. And India proves thatbackward women mean a backward nation. "

"Then, " continued Carmen, "make a distinct Women's Department in theExpress, and put Miss Wall on the staff. "

"Very well. Next?" inquired Hitt, smiling. 

"A daily educational department for foreigners, our immigrants, givingthem every possible aid in suggestions regarding their naturalization, the languages, hotels, boarding houses, employment, and so on. "

"Done, " said Hitt. "And what else?"

"The Express is going to maintain a social service, and night schools. It is going to establish vacation and permanent homes for girls. It isgoing to provide for vocational training. It is going to establish alecture bureau--for lectures on _good_. It is going to build a modelcity for workingmen. Then it is going to found a model city foreverybody. It is going to establish clubs and meeting places forworkingmen, places where they may meet, and play games, and read, andhave social intercourse, and practical instruction. It is going toestablish the same for young boys. It is going to take the lead forcivic betterment in this city, and for child-welfare, and for--"

By this time Haynerd was sitting erect and staring in bewilderment atthe girl. "What do you mean?" he sputtered. "Aren't you wanderingsomewhat beyond strict newspaper limits? We are in the newsbusiness!"

"And haven't I told you, " returned the girl promptly, "that the onlything new in this world is _good_? Our news is going to be _good_news--the collection and dissemination of _good_ to all mankind. People who read our paper will no longer feel that it is dangerous tobe alive, but a glorious privilege. I am simply laying out ourprogram. And Mr. Hitt said I could go the limit, you know. "

Hitt had caught the girl's infectious enthusiasm, and his face wasbeaming. 

"That's it!" he exclaimed. "It's your unlimited thought, Carmen, thatwe old dry-bones want! I understand you!"

"Of course you do!" she cried. "And so does dear old protesting Ned. Why, what is money? What is anything in this life, compared with realservice to our fellow-men? _The Express is not in business to makemoney!_ It is in the business of collecting and scattering the news ofgood. Its dividends will be the happiness and joy it gives to mankind. Will it fail? It simply can't! For _good is the greatest success thereis_!"

It is likely that Hitt did not catch the full meaning of the girl'swords; and it is certain that Haynerd did not. But her boundlessenthusiasm did penetrate in large degree into their souls, and theyceased to insist on the query, Will it pay? The broader outlook wasalready beginning to return profits to these men, as the newerdefinition of 'news' occupied their thought. Fear and doubt fled. Seizing their hats, they bade Carmen go with them to inspect the plantof the Express, and meet its staff. 

"There's a question I'd like to ask, " said Haynerd, as they pursuedtheir way toward their recent purchase. "I want to know what oureditorial policy will be. Do we condone the offenses of our graftersand spoilsmen by remaining silent regarding their crimes? Or do weexpose them?"

"We will let their guilt expose and kill itself, " quickly returnedCarmen. "How? Well, you will see. "

A few minutes later they entered the gloomy, dust-laden offices of theExpress. Hitt's spirits sank again as he looked about him. But Carmenseemed to suffer no loss of enthusiasm. After a mental appraisal ofthe dingy, uninviting environment she exclaimed: "Well, one nice thingabout this is that we don't have much to start with!"

Hitt reflected upon her cryptical remark, and then laughed. 

Carlson joined them at this juncture. It was evident that the sale ofhis plant had removed a heavy load from his shoulders. 

"My best reporter was out yesterday when you called, " he said, addressing Hitt. "He--well, he was a little the worse for wear. Buthe's in now. Come into my office and I'll send for him. "

In a few minutes a tall, boyish fellow responded to the editor'ssummons. He must have been well under twenty, thought Hitt, marvelingthat so young a man should be regarded as Carlson's best newsgatherer. But his wonder grew apace when the editor introduced him asMr. Sidney Ames. 

"Huh!" ejaculated Haynerd. "Know J. Wilton?"

The lad smiled pallidly, as he bent his gaze upon Carmen, andaddressed his reply to her. "My governor, " he said laconically. 

"The deuce he is!" returned Haynerd, beginning to bristle. 

Carlson dismissed the reporter, and turned to the curious group. 

"The boy has the making of a fine newspaper man in him. Has somethingof his father's terrible energy. But he's doomed. Whiskey and morphinegot him. He used to come down here before his father threw him out. Ilet him write little articles for the Express when he was barelysixteen years old; and they were mighty good, too. But he got mixed upin some scandal, and J. Wilton cut him off. The boy always did drink, I guess. But since his family troubles he's been on the straight roadto the insane asylum. It's too bad. But you'll keep him, I suppose?"

"Certainly not!" replied Haynerd aggressively. "His father is nofriend of mine, and--"

"We _shall_ keep him, " calmly interrupted Carmen. "His father is a_very_ good friend of mine. "

Carlson looked from one to the other quizzically. "H'm!" he mused. "Well, " squinting over his glasses at the girl, "this surely iswoman's era, isn't it?"

 * * * * *

A week later the Express, scarcely recognizable in its clean, freshtype and modest headlines, with its crisp news and well writteneditorials, very unostentatiously made its entry into the alreadycrowded metropolitan field. Few noticed it. Adams picked it up andlaughed, a short, contemptuous laugh. Fallom glanced over it andwondered. J. Wilton Ames, who had been apprised of its advent, threwit into the waste basket--and then drew it out again. He re-read theeditorial announcing the policy of the paper. From that he began acareful survey of the whole sheet. His eye caught an article on thefeminist movement, signed by Carmen Ariza. His lip curled, but he readthe article through, and finished with the mental comment that it waswell written. Then he summoned Willett. 

"I want this sheet carefully watched, " he commanded, tossing the paperto his secretary. "If anything is noticed that in any way refers to meor my interests, call my attention to it immediately. "

The secretary bowed and departed. A moment afterward Henry Claus, nominal head of the great Claus brewing interests, was ushered in. 

"We licked 'em, Mr. Ames, we licked 'em!" cried the newcomer, rushingforward and clasping the financier's hand. "The city council lastnight voted against the neighborhood saloon license bill! Lined upsolidly for us! Fine, eh?"

"Yes, " commented the laconic Ames. "Our aldermen are a veryintelligent lot of statesmen, Claus. They're wise enough to see thattheir jobs depend upon whiskey. It requires very astute statesmanship, Claus, to see that. But some of our congressmen and senators havelearned the same thing. "

The brewer pondered this delphic utterance and scratched his head. 

"Well, " continued Ames, "have you your report?"

"Eh? Yes, sure, Mr. Ames. Here. "

Ames studied the document. Then he looked severely at Claus. "Salesless than last month, " he remarked dryly. 

"It's the local option law what done it, Mr. Ames, " replied the brewerapologetically. "Them women--"

"Bah! Let a few petticoats whip you, eh? But, anyway, you don't knowhow to market your stuff. Look here, Claus, you've got to encouragethe young people more. We've got to get the girls and boys. If we getthe girls, we'll get the boys easily enough. It's the same in theliquor business as in certain others, Claus, you've got to land themyoung. "

"But, Mr. Ames, I can't take 'em and pour it down their throats!"expostulated the brewer. 

"You could if you knew how, " returned Ames. "Why, man! if I hadnothing else to do I'd just like to devote myself to the sales end ofthe brewing business. I'd use mental suggestion in such a way throughadvertising that this country would drown in beer! Beer is just plainbeer to you dull-wits. But suppose we convinced people that it was afood, eh? Advertise a chemical analysis of it, showing that it hasgreater nutriment than beef. Catch the clerks and poor stenographersthat way. Don't call it beer; call it Maltdiet, or something likethat. Why, we couldn't begin to supply the demand!"

"How would you advertise, Mr. Ames?"

"Billboards in every field and along all railroads and highways;boards in every vacant lot in every town and city in the country;electric signs everywhere; handbills; lectures--never thought of that, did you? And samples--why, I'd put samples into every house in theUnion! I'd give away a million barrels of beer--and sell a hundredmillion as a result! But I'd work particularly with the young people. Work on them with literature and suggestion; they're more receptivethan adults. The hypnotism that works through suggestive advertising, Claus, is simply omnipotent! How about your newspaper contracts?"

"We have all the papers, excepting the Express, Mr. Ames. "

"The Express?" Ames laughed. "Well, that's a new venture. You canafford to pass it up. It's run by a college professor and a doll-facedgirl. "

"But, Mr. Ames, our advertising manager tells me that the publishersof the Express called a meeting of the managers of all the other citypapers, to discuss cutting out liquor advertising, and that since thenthe rates have gone up, way up! You see, the example set by theExpress may--"

"Humph!" grunted Ames. Then he began to reflect. An example, backed byabsolute fearlessness--and he knew from experience that the publishersof the Express were without fear--well, it could not be whollyignored, even if the new paper had no circulation worth the name. 

"Mr. Ames, " resumed the brewer, "the Express is in every newsstand inthe city. All the boys are selling it. It's in every hotel, in everysaloon, in every store and business house here. It's in the dives. Itisn't sold, it's given away! Where do they get their money?"

Ames himself wondered. And he determined to find out. 

"Leave it to me, Claus, " he said at length, dismissing the brewer. "I'll send for you in a day or so. "

 * * * * *

It was well after midnight when the little group assembled in thedining room of the Beaubien cottage to resume their interrupteddiscussions. Hitt and Haynerd were the last to arrive. They foundDoctor Morton eagerly awaiting them. With him had come, not withoutsome reluctance, his prickly disputant, Reverend Patterson Moore, andanother friend and colleague, Doctor Siler, whose interest in theseunique gatherings had been aroused by Morton. 

"I've tried to give him a résumé of our previous deductions, " thelatter explained, as Hitt prepared to open the discussion. "And hesays he has conscientious scruples--if you know what that means. "

"He's a Philistine, that's all, eh?" offered Haynerd. 

Doctor Siler nodded genially. "I am like my friend, Reverend EdwardHull, who says--"

"There!" interrupted Morton. "Your friend has a life job molding theplastic minds of prospective preachers, and he doesn't want to losethe sinecure. I don't blame him. Got a wife and babies depending onhim. He still preaches hell-fire and the resurrection of the flesh, doesn't he? Well, in that case we can dispense with his views, forwe've sent that sort of doctrine to the ash heap. "

Reverend Moore opened his mouth as if to protest; but Hitt preventedhim by taking the floor and plunging at once into his subject. "Thehour is very late, " he said in apology, "and we have much ground tocover. Who knows when we shall meet again?"

Carmen stole a hand beneath the table and grasped the Beaubien's. Thenall waited expectantly. 

"As I sat in my office this morning, " began Hitt meditatively, "Ilooked often and long through the window and out over this great, roaring city. Everywhere I saw tremendous activity, frantic hurry, andnerve-racking strife. In the distance I marked the smoke curlingupward from huge factories, packing houses, and elevators. Theincessant seething, the rush and bustle, the noise, the heat, anddust, all spelled business, an enormous volume of human business--andyet, _not one iota of it contributed even a mite to the spiritualnature and needs of mankind_!

"I pondered this long. And then I looked down, far down, into thestreets below. There I saw the same diversified activity. And I saw, too, men and women, rich and comfortable, riding along happily intheir automobiles, with not a thought beyond their physicalwell-being. But, I asked myself, should they not ride thus, if theywish? And yet, the hour will soon come when sickness, disaster, anddeath will knock at their doors and sternly bid them come out. Andthen?"

"Just what I have sought to impress upon you whenever you advancedyour philosophical theories, Doctor, " said Reverend Moore, turning toMorton. The doctor glowered back at him without reply. Hitt smiled andwent on. 

"Now what should the man in the automobile do? Is there anything he_can_ do, after all? Yes, much, I think. Jesus told such as he to seekfirst the kingdom of harmony--a demonstrable understanding of truth. The automobile riding would follow after that, and with safety. Why, oh, why, will we go on wasting our precious time acquiring additionalphysical sensations in motor cars, amusement parks, travel, anywhereand everywhere, instead of laboring first to acquire that realknowledge which alone will set us free from the bitter woes of humanexistence!"

"Jesus set us free, sir, " interposed Reverend Moore sternly. "And hisvicarious atonement opens the door of immortality to all who believeon his name. "

"But that freedom, Mr. Moore, you believe will be acquired only afterdeath. I dispute that belief strenuously. But let us return to thatlater. At present we see mankind laboring for that which even theythemselves admit is not meat. They waste their substance for what isnot bread. And why? Because of their false beliefs of God and man, externalized in a viciously cruel social system; because of theirdependence upon the false supports of _materia medica_, orthodoxtheology, man-devised creeds, and human opinions. Is it notdemonstrably so?

"And yet, who hath believed our report? Who wants to? Alas! men in ourday think and read little that is serious; and they reflect hardly atall upon the vital things of life. They want to be let alone in theircomfortable materialistic beliefs, even though those beliefs rendthem, rive them, rack and twist them with vile, loathsome disease, andthen sink them into hideous, worm-infested graves! The human mind doesnot want its undemonstrable beliefs challenged. It does not want thelight of unbiased investigation thrown upon the views which it hasaccepted ready-made from doctor and theologian. Again, why? Because, my friends, the human mind is inert, despite its seemingly tremendousmaterial activity. And its inertia is the result of its ownself-mesmerism, its own servile submission to beliefs which, asBalfour has shown, have grown up under every kind of influence exceptthat of genuine evidence. Chief of these are the prevalent religiousbeliefs, which we are asked to receive as divinely inspired. "

Doctor Morton glanced at Reverend Moore and grinned. But thatgentleman sat stolid, with arms folded and a scowl upon his sharpfeatures. 

"Religion, " continued Hitt, "is that which binds us to the real. Alas!what a farce mankind have made of it. And why? Because, in its maddesire to make matter real and to extract all pleasures from it, thehuman mind has tried to eliminate the soul. "

"We have been having a bad spell of materialism, that's true, "interposed Doctor Morton. "But we are progressing, I hope. "

"Well, " Hitt replied, "perhaps so. Yet almost in our own day Franceput God out of her institutions; set up and crowned a prostitute asthe goddess of reason; and trailed the Bible through the streets ofParis, tied to the tail of an ass! What followed? Spiritualdestitution. And in this country we have enthroned so-called physicalscience, and, as Comte predicted, are about to conduct God to thefrontier and bow Him out with thanks for His provisional services. With what result? As our droll philosopher, Hubbard, has said, 'Onceman was a spirit, now he is matter. Once he was a flame, now he is acandlestick. Once he was a son of God, now he is a chemical formula. Once he was an angel, now he is plain mud. '"

"But, " exclaimed Reverend Moore, visibly nettled, "that is because ofhis falling away from the Church--"

"My friend, " said Hitt calmly, "he fell away from the Church becausehe could not stagnate longer with her and be happy. Orthodox theologyhas largely become mere sentimentalism. The average man has a horrorof being considered a namby-pamby, religiously weak, wishy-washy, so-called Christian. It makes him ashamed of himself to stand upin a congregation and sing 'My Jesus, I love Thee, ' and 'Inmansions of glory and endless delight. ' What does he know aboutJesus? And he is far more concerned about his little brick bungalowand next month's rent than he is about celestial mansions. And I don'tblame him. No; he leaves religion to women, whom he regards as theweaker sex. He turns to the ephemeral wisdom of human science--and, poor fool! remains no wiser than before. And the women? Well, howoften nowadays do you hear the name of God on their lips? Is Hediscussed in society? Is He ever the topic of conversation atreceptions and balls? No; that person was right who said thatreligion 'does not rise to the height of successful gossip. ' Itstands no show with the latest cabaret dance, the slashed skirt, and the daringly salacious drama as a theme of discourse. Oh, yes, we still maintain our innumerable churches. And, though religion isthe most vital thing in the world to us, we hire a preacher to talkto us once a week about it! Would we hire men to talk once a week tous about business? Hardly! But religion is far, far less important tohuman thought than business--for the latter means automobiles andincreased opportunities for physical sensation. "

"Well, Mr. Hitt, " objected Doctor Siler, "I am sure this is not such agodless era as you would make out. "

"No, " returned Hitt. "We have many gods, chief of whom is matter. Theworld's acknowledged god is not spirit, despite the inescapable factthat the motive-power of the universe is spiritual, and the onlyaction is the expression of thought. 

"But now, " he continued, "we have in our previous discussions madesome startling deductions, and we came to the conclusion that there isa First Cause, and that it is infinite mind. But, having agreed uponthat, are we now ready to admit the logical corollary, namely, thatthere can be but _one_ real mind? For that follows from the premisethat there is but one God who is infinite. "

"Then we do not have individual minds?" queried Miss Wall. 

"We have but the one mind, God, " he replied. "There are not mindsmany. The real man reflects God. Human men reflect the communal mortalmind, which is the suppositional opposite of the divine mind that isGod. I repeat, the so-called human mind knows not God. It never seeseven His manifestations. It sees only its own interpretations of Himand His manifestations. And these it sees as mental concepts. For allthings are mental. Could anything be plainer?"

"Well, they might be, " suggested Doctor Siler. 

Hitt laughed. "Well then, " he said, "if you will not admit that allthings are mental--including the entire universe--you certainly areforced to admit that your comprehension of things is mental. "

"Agreed, " returned the doctor. 

"Then you will likewise have to admit that you are not concerned with_things_, but with your comprehension of things. "

"H'm, well--yes. "

"And so, after all, you deal only with mental things--and everythingis mental to you. "

"But--whence the human mind? Did God create it?" continued DoctorSiler. "Did He, Mr. Moore?"

"The Bible states clearly that He created _all_ things, " returned thatgentleman a little stiffly. 

"My friends, " resumed Hitt very earnestly, "we are on the eve of atremendous enlightenment, I believe. And for that we owe much to theso-called 'theory of suppositional opposites. ' We have settled to oursatisfaction that, although mankind believe themselves to be dependentupon air, food, and water for existence, nevertheless they are reallydependent upon something vastly finer, which is back of those things. That 'something' we call God, for it is good. Matthew Arnold said thatthe only thing that can be verified about God is that He is 'theeternal power that makes for righteousness. ' Very well, we are almostwilling to accept that alone--for that carries infinite implications. It makes God an eternal, spiritual power, omnipotent as an influencefor good. It makes Him the infinite patron, so to speak, ofright-thinking. And we know that thought is creative. So it makes Himthe sole creative force. 

"But, " he continued, "force, or power, is not material. God by verynecessity is mind, including all intelligence. And His operations areconducted according to the spiritual law of evolution. Oh, yes, evolution is not a theory, it is a fact. God, infinite mind, evolves, uncovers, reveals, unfolds, His numberless eternal ideas. Thesereflect and manifest Him. The greatest of these is the one thatincludes all others and expresses and reflects Him perfectly. That wecall man. That is the man who was 'made'--revealed, manifested--inHis image and likeness. There is no other image and likeness of God. Moreover, God has always existed, and always will. So His ideas, including real man, have had no beginning. They were not created, aswe regard creation, but have been unfolded. 

"All well and good, so far. But now we come to the peculiar part, namely, the fact that _reality seems always to have its shadow inunreality_. Every positive seems to have a negative. The magnet hasits opposite poles, one positive, the other negative. Jesus had hisNero. Truth has its opposing falsities. At the lowest ebb of theworld's morals appeared the Christ. The Christian religion springsfrom the soil of a Roman Emperor's blood-soaked gardens. And so itgoes. Harmony opposed by discord. Errors hampering the solving ofmathematical problems. Spirit opposed by matter. Which is real? Thatwhich stands the test of demonstration as to permanence, I say withSpencer. 

"And now we learn that it is the _communal mortal mind_ that stands asthe opposite and negative of the infinite mind that is God, and thatit is but a supposition, without basis of real principle or fact. Ithas its law of evolution, too, and evolves its types in human beingsand animals, in mountain, tree, and stream. All material nature, infact, is but the manifestation, or reflection, of this communal mortalmind. 

"But, though God had no beginning, and will have no ending, thiscommunal mortal mind, on the contrary, did have a seeming beginning, and will end its pseudo-existence. It seemingly began as a mentalmist. It seemingly evolved form and became active. It seeminglyevolved its universe, and its earth as its lower stratum. It made itsfirmament, and it gradually filled its seas with moving things thatmanifested its idea of life. Slowly, throughout inconceivable eons oftime, it unrolled and evolved, until at last, through untoldgenerations of stupid, sluggish, often revolting animal forms, itbegan to evolve a type of mind, a crude representation of the mindthat is God, and manifesting its own concept of intelligence. Thattype was primitive man. 

"Now what was this communal mortal mind doing? Counterfeiting divinemind, if I may so express it. Evolving crude imitative types. Buttypes that were without basis of principle, and so they passedaway--the higher forms died, the lower disintegrated. Aye, death cameinto the world because of sin, for the definition of sin is theAramaic word which Jesus used, translated '_hamartio_, ' which means'missing the mark. ' The mortal mind missed the mark. And so its typesdied. And so they still die to-day. Yes, sin came through Adam, forAdam is the name of the communal mortal mind. 

"Well, ages and ages passed, reckoned in the human mind concept oftime. The evolution was continually toward a higher and ever highertype. Why? The influence of divine mind was penetrating it. Paleolithic man still died, because he did not have enough realknowledge in his mortal mind to keep him from missing the mark. Heprobably had no belief in a future life, for he did not bury his deadafter the manner of those who later manifested this belief. But, afterthe lapse of centuries, Neolithic man was found manifesting such abelief. What has happened? This: the mortal mind was translating thedivine idea of immortality into its own terms and thus expressing it. 

"Ages rolled on. The curtain began to rise upon what we call humanhistory. The idea of a power not itself began to filter through themist of mortal mind, and human beings felt its influence, theinfluence that makes for righteousness. And then, at last, through themortal mind there began to filter the idea of the one God. The peoplewho best reflected this idea were the ancient Israelites. They calledthemselves the 'chosen' people. Their so-called minds were, as Carmenhas expressed it, like window-panes that were a little cleaner thanthe others. They let a bit more of the light through. God is light, you know, according to the Scriptures. And little by little they beganto record their thoughts regarding their concept of the one God. Thesewritings became sacred to them. And soon they were seeing their Godmanifested everywhere, and hearing His voice in every sound of Nature. And as they saw, they wrote. And thus began that strange and mightybook, the Bible, _the record of the evolution of the concept of God inthe human mind_. "

"Do you mean to say that the Bible was not given by inspiration?"demanded Reverend Moore. 

"No, " replied Hitt. "This filtering process that I have been speakingabout _is_ inspiration. Every bit of truth that comes to you or meto-day comes by inspiration--the breathing in--of the infinite mindthat is truth. 

"And so, " he went on, "we have those reflections of the communalmortal mind which we call the Israelites recording their thoughts andideas. Sometimes they recorded plain fact; sometimes they wrappedtheir moral teachings in allegories and fables. Josephus says of Mosesthat he wrote some things enigmatically, some allegorically, and therest in plain words, since in his account of the first chapter ofGenesis and the first three verses of the second he gives no hint ofany mystery at all. But when he comes to the fourth verse of thesecond chapter he says Moses, after the seventh day was over, beganto talk philosophically, and so he understood the rest of the secondand third chapters in some enigmatical and allegorical sense. Quiteso, it appears to me, for the writer, whoever he was, was thenattempting the impossible task of explaining the enigma of evil, theorigin of which is associated always with the dust-man. "

"You deny the truth of the account of the creation as given in thesecond chapter of Genesis, do you?" asked Reverend Moore. "You denythat man was tempted and fell?"

"Well, " said Hitt, smiling, "of course there is no special reason fordenying that serpents may have talked, millions and millions of yearsago. In fact, they still have rudimentary organs of speech--as do mostanimals. Perhaps they all talked at one time. Snakes developed in theSilurian Era, some twenty million years ago. In the vast interveningstretch of time they may have lost their power to talk. But, as forthe second chapter of Genesis, Moses may or may not have written it. Indeed, he may not have written the first. We do not know. The book ofGenesis shows plainly that it is a composite of several books byvarious authors. I incline to the belief that some more materialistichand and mind than Moses's composed that second chapter. However thatmay be, it is a splendid example of the human mind's crude attempt tointerpret the spiritual creation in its own material terms. It in away represents the dawning upon the human mind of the idea of thespiritual creation. For when finite sense approaches the infinite itmust inevitably run into difficulties with which it can not cope; itmust meet problems which it can not solve, owing to its lack of aknowledge of the infinite principle involved. That's why the worldrejected the first account of the creation and accepted the second, snake-story, dust-man, apple tree, and all. "

"Hitt!" exclaimed Haynerd, his eyes wide agape. "You're like astory-book! Go on!"

"Wait!" interrupted Miss Wall. "We know that man appeared on thisearth in comparatively recent times. For millions and millions ofyears before he was evolved animals and vegetables had been dying. Nowwas their death due to sin? If so, whose?"

"Assuredly, " returned Hitt. "Your difficulty arises from the fact thatwe are accustomed to associate sin with human personality. Butremember, the physical universe has been evolved from the communalmortal mind. It represents 'negative truth. ' It has been dying fromthe very beginning of its seeming existence, for its seeming existencealone is sin. The vegetables, the animals, and now the men, that havebeen evolved from it, and that express it and reflect and manifestit, must die, necessarily, because the so-called mind from which theyevolve is not based upon the eternal, immortal principle, God. And soit and they miss the mark, and always have done so. You must cease tosay, Whose sin? Remember that the sin is inherent in the so-calledmind that is expressed by things material. The absence of theprinciple which is God is sin, according to the Aramaic word, translated '_hamartio_, ' which Jesus used. The most lowly cell thatswam in the primeval seas manifested the communal mortal mind's sin, and died as a consequence. "

"In other words, it manifested a supposition, as opposed to truth?"

"Its existence was quite suppositional, " replied Hitt. "It did notmanifest life, but a material sense of existence. The subjectivealways determines the objective. And so the communal mortal mind, so-called, determined these first lowly material and objective formsof existence. They were its phenomena, and they manifested it. Different types now manifest it, after long ages. But all are equallywithout basis of principle, all are subject to the mortal law thateverything material contains within itself the elements for its owndestruction, and all must pass away. In our day we are dealing withthe highest type of mortal mind so far evolved, the human man. He, too, knows but one life, human life, the mortal-mind sense ofexistence. His human life is demonstrably only a series of states ofmaterial consciousness, states of thought-activity. The classificationand placing of these states of consciousness give him his sense oftime. The positing of his mental concepts give him his sense of space. His consciousness is a thought-activity, externalizing human opinions, ideas, and beliefs, not based on truth. This consciousness--orsupposititious human mind--is very finite in nature, and so isessentially self-centered. It attributes its fleshly existence tomaterial things. It believes that its life depends upon its fleshlybody; and so it thinks itself in constant peril of losing it. It goesfurther, and believes that there are multitudes of other human minds, each having its own human, fleshly existence, or life, and eachcapable of doing it and one another mortal injury. It believes that itcan be deprived by its neighboring mortal minds of all that it needsfor its sustenance, and that it can improve its own status at theirexpense, and vice versa. It is filled with fears--not knowing that Godis infinite good--and its fears become externalized as disaster, loss, calamity, disease, and death at last. Perhaps its chief characteristicis mutability. It has no basis of principle to rest upon, and so itconstantly shifts and changes to accord with its own shifting thought. There is nothing certain about it. It is here to-day, and goneto-morrow. "

"Pretty dismal state of affairs!" Haynerd was heard to mutter. 

"Well, Ned, " said Hitt, "there is this hope: human consciousnessalways refers its states to something. And that 'something' is real. It is infinite mind, God, and its infinite manifestation. The humanmind still translates or interprets God's greatest idea, Man, as 'asuffering, sinning, troubled creature, ' forgetting that this creatureis only a mental concept, and that the human mind is looking only atits own thoughts, and that these thoughts are counterfeits of God'sreal thoughts. 

"Moreover, though the human mind is finite, and can not even begin tograsp the infinite, the divine mind has penetrated the mist of error. There is a spark of real reflection in every mortal. That spark can bemade to grow into a flame that will consume all error and leave thereal man revealed, a consciousness that knows no evil. There is nowenough of a spark of intelligence in the human, so-called mind toenable it to lay hold on truth and grow out of itself. And there is noexcuse for not doing so, as Jesus said. If he had not come we wouldn'thave known that we were missing the mark so terribly. "

"Well, " observed Haynerd, "after that classification I don't see thatwe mortals have much to be puffed up about!"

"All human beings, or mortals, Ned, " said Hitt, "are interpretationsby the mortal mind of infinite mind's idea of itself, Man. Theseinterpretations are made in the human mind, and they remain positedthere. They differ from one another only in degree. All are false, and doomed to decay. How, then, can one mortal look down withsuperciliousness upon another, when all are in the same identicalclass?"

Carmen's thoughts rested for a moment upon the meaningless existenceof Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, who had anchored her life in the shiftingsands of the flesh and its ephemeral joys. 

"Now, " resumed Hitt, "we will come back to the question of progress. What is progress but the growing of the human mind out of itself underthe influence of the divine stimulus of demonstrable truth? And thatis made possible when we grasp the stupendous fact that the human, mortal mind, including its man, is absolutely unreal and non-existent!The human man changes rapidly in mind, and, consequently, in its lowerstratum, or expression, the body. For that reason he need not carryover into to-day the old, false beliefs which were manifested by himyesterday. If he leaves them in the past, they cease to be manifestedin his present or future. Thus he outgrows himself. Then, openinghimself to truth, he lays off the 'old man' and puts on the 'new. ' Hedenies himself--denies that there is any truth in the seeming realityof the mortal, material self--as Jesus bade us do. "

"He must make new thoughts, then?" said Miss Wall. 

"No, " replied Hitt. "Thought is not manufactured. God is eternal mind. His ideas and the thoughts regarding them must always have existed. His thoughts are infinite in number. He, as mind, is an inexhaustiblereservoir of thought. Now the human, mortal mind interprets Histhoughts, and so _seems_ to manufacture new thought. It makes newinterpretations, but not new thoughts. When you hear people chatting, do you think they are manufacturing new thought? Not a bit of it! Theyare but reflecting, or voicing, the communal so-called mortal mind'sinterpretations of God's innumerable and real thoughts. "

"And so, " suggested Father Waite, "the more nearly correct ourinterpretations of His thoughts are, the nearer we approach torighteousness. "

"Just so, " returned Hitt. "There exist all sorts of real thoughtsabout God's ideas. And these are good and eternal. But the human mindmakes likewise all sorts of erroneous translations of them. We shallsolve our problem of existence when we correctly interpret Histhoughts, and use them only. When the human mentality becomes attunedor accustomed to certain thoughts, that kind flow into it readily fromthe communal mortal mind. Some people think for years along certainerroneous or criminal lines. Their minds are set in that direction, and invite such a flow of thought. But were they to reverse the 'set, 'there would be a very different and better resulting externalizationin health, prosperity, and morals. "

"I think I see, " said Miss Wall. "And I begin to glimpse the truemission of Jesus, and why he was ready to give up everything for it. "

"Yes. And now a word further about the so-called mortal mind. For, when we have collected and arranged all our data regarding it, we willfind ourselves in a position to begin to work out of it, and therebytruly work out our salvation, even if with fear and trembling. I havesaid in a previous talk that, judging by the deductions of thephysical scientists, everything seems about to leave the materialbasis and turn into vibrations, and 'man changes with velocity' ofthese. They tell us that all life depends upon water; that life began, eons ago, in the primeval sea. True, the human sense of existence, asI have said, began in the dark, primeval sea of mist, the deep andfluid mortal mind, so-called. And that sense of existence mostcertainly is dependent upon the fluid of mortal mind. Bichât has saidthat 'life is the sum of the forces that resist death. ' Spencer hasdefined life as the 'continuous adjustment of internal to externalrelations. ' Very good, as applied to the human sense of life. Thehuman mind makes multitudes of mental concepts, and then strugglesincessantly to adjust itself to them, and at length gives up thestruggle, hopelessly beaten. Scientists tell us that life is due to acontinuous series of bodily ferments. The body is in a constant stateof ferment, and that gives rise to life. Good! We know that the humanmind is in a state of incessant ferment. The human mind is aself-centered mass of writhing, seething, fermenting material thought. And that fermentation is outwardly manifested in its concept of body, and its material environment. The scientists themselves are rapidlypushing matter back into the realm of the human mind. Bodily statesare becoming recognized as manifestations of mental states--not viceversa, as has been ignorantly believed for ages. A prominent physiciantold me the other day that many a condition of nervous prostration nowcould be directly traced to selfishness. We know that hatred and angerproduce fatal poisons. The rattlesnake is a splendid example of that. I am told that its poison and the white of an egg are formed of_exactly the same amounts of the same elements_. The difference ineffect is the thought lying back of each. "

"Well!" exclaimed Doctor Siler. "You don't pretend that the snakethinks and hates--"

"Doctor, " said Hitt, "for thousands upon thousands of years the humanrace has been directing hatred and fear-thoughts toward the snake. Isit any wonder that the snake is now poisonous? That it now reflectsback that poisonous thought to mankind?"

"But some are not poisonous, you know. "

"Can we say how long they have not been so, or how soon our hatredwill make them all poisonous? Do you know, moreover, that sorrow, remorse, all emotions, in fact, affect the perspiration that exudesfrom the human body? Do you know that hatred will render humanperspiration the deadliest poison known to science? I am told thatin a few minutes of murderous hatred enough of this poisonousperspiration is exuded from the human body to kill a man. And doyou know that the thought which manifests upon the body in suchdeadly poison is just as deadly when sent into the mentality of ahuman being? Think what the Church's deadly hatred of so-calledheretics has done in the last nineteen hundred years! Why, millionshave been killed by it alone! And in the name of Christ!

"But now, " he said, consulting his watch, "I must go. Even a newspaperman requires a little sleep. And I must make my apology for occupyingthe floor to-night to the exclusion of you all. I have gradually beenfilling up with these thoughts for some weeks, and I had to let themout. Besides--"

"Mr. Hitt, " interrupted Father Waite, "I shall soon be ready to reporton those questions of Bible research which you assigned to me. "

"Ah, yes, " replied Hitt. "Well, have you found that Jesus really wasan historical character, or not?"

"I think, " said Carmen, "that he has found that it really matterslittle whether there ever was such a person as the human man Jesus. The Christ has always lived; and the Christ-principle which the manJesus is reported to have revealed to the world is with us, here, now, and always. It is the principle, rather than the man Jesus, thatconcerns us, is it not?"

"Miss Carmen, " interposed Reverend Moore, "Jesus was the incarnate Sonof God, and your remarks concerning him are--"

"Slow up, Pat!" interrupted Doctor Morton. "I'll fight that out withyou on the way home. Come, the meeting's adjourned. "

"We will take up that question in our next discussion, " said Hitt. "But, wait; Carmen must give us just a short song before we part. "

The girl went immediately to the piano. As she passed Hitt, shesqueezed his hand. A few minutes later the little group dispersed, with the melody of the girl's voice trembling in their souls. 

CHAPTER 8

For several days Ames reflected, and waited. Judging by the data whichhe was able to secure, the Express was eating up money at a fearfulpace. To continue at that rate meant certain financial disaster in thenear future. And yet the publishers of the rejuvenated sheet seemednever to count the cost of their experiment. Already they had begunthe introduction of innovations that were startling and evenmirth-provoking to staid, conservative publishers in the journalisticfield. To survive the long period necessary for the education of thepublic taste to such things as the Express stood for demanded a sourceof income no less permanent than La Libertad itself. But at thisthought Ames chuckled aloud. 

Then an idea occurred to him. The Beaubien, of course, in hercrippled financial condition was affording the Express no monetaryassistance. Carmen had nothing. Haynerd's few thousands were longsince dissipated. Hitt's income was measured. But--ah, Miss Wall! Andher estate was handled by Ames and Company! And handled, we may add, in such a manner that Miss Wall knew naught regarding it, except thatshe might draw upon it as one dips water from a hillside spring. 

Thus Ames reflected. And as he meditated upon the new paper and itspromoters, there gradually formed within him a consuming desire to seeagain the fair young girl who had drawn him so strongly, despite hismountainous wrath and his flaming desire to crush her when she boldlyfaced him in his own house on the night of his grand reception. Whyhad he let her escape him then? He had been a fool! True, women hadmeant little to him, at least in the last few years. But this girl hadseemed to stir within him new emotions, or those long slumbering. Heknew not, coarsely materialistic as was his current thought, that inhim, as in all who came within the radius of her pure affection, shehad swept chords whose music he had never heard before. 

Days passed, while Ames still mused. And then one morning he took downthe receiver and called up the office of the Express. 

No, Mr. Hitt was not there--but this was his assistant. And:

"You didn't want to see Mr. Hitt, did you? You wanted to see me. Well, you may come over. "

Ames nearly dropped the receiver in his astonishment. In the firstplace, the girl had read his thought; and in the second, he was notaccustomed to being told that he might go to see people--they camecringing to him. 

"You may come at twelve-fifteen, " continued the clear, firm voice. "And remain a half hour; I'm very busy. "

Ames put down the instrument and looked about, thankful that no onewas there to comment on his embarrassment. Then he leaned back in hischair and went slowly over in thought the experiences of that eventfulnight in his house. Why, this slip of a girl--a half-breed Indian atbest--this mere baby--! But he glanced up at the great electric wallclock, and wished it were then twelve-fifteen. 

 * * * * *

At noon Ames, jauntily swinging his light walking stick, strolledcasually into the office of the Express. His air was one of supremeconfidence in his own powers. He was superhuman, and he knew it. Andthe knowledge rendered him unafraid of God, man, or beast. He had metand conquered everything mundane, excepting this young girl. But thatthought was now delightful to him. In her he had unearthed a realnovelty, a ceaseless interest. She reminded him of a beautiful kitten. She scratched and nettled him; but she was as nothing in his grasp. 

The first thing that impressed him on entering the office was the airof prosperity which hung over the place. The environment, he mentallycommented, was somewhat unusual for a newspaper plant. Order, quiet, and cleanliness were dominant notes in the prevailing harmony. Hefirst walked back into the pressroom to see if the same conditionsprevailed there. Then he retraced his steps, and at length came to ahalt before a door bearing the inscription, "Miss Ariza, " on theglass. Turning the knob, he peered curiously in. 

The room was small, but light and airy. Its furnishings were new, andits walls had been freshly tinted. A few pictures of good quality hungabout them. A handsome rug lay upon the floor. At the desk, bendingover a new typewriter, sat Carmen. 

"I beg pardon, " said Ames, hesitating in the doorway. 

The girl glanced up quickly. "Oh, come in, " she said. "I was expectingyou. "

He entered and took the chair indicated. "You don't mind if I finishthis article, do you?" she said, bending again to her work. "It's gotto go to the compositors right away. "

"Certainly--don't stop, " replied Ames easily. "When we talk I wantyour undivided attention. "

"Oh, you're sure to get it, " she returned, laughing. And Ames wonderedjust what she meant. 

He sat back in his chair and watched her closely. How wondrous fairshe was! Yet, there was just a slight tint in her skin, he thought. Perhaps the report that she was a mulatto was not wholly unfounded, although the strain must have been greatly mixed. How simply she wasdressed. He remembered her in her beautiful ball gown. He thought hepreferred this. How rapidly her fingers sped over the keys. And whatfingers! What a hand! He wanted to bend over and take it in his own. Then he suddenly remembered what the Beaubien had once told him--thatshe always seemed to be a better woman in this girl's presence. But--what changes had come since then! Could he go on persecuting theharassed woman? But he wouldn't, if--

"There!" said the girl, with what seemed to be a little sigh ofrelief. She pressed a button, and handed the typewritten sheets to theboy who responded. Then, turning to Ames:

"You've come to apologize, haven't you? But you needn't. I'm not a bitoffended. I couldn't be, you know. "

Apologize! Well, he certainly had not had any such intention when hecame in. In fact, he knew not just why he was there. 

"You see, Congressman Wales didn't vote for the unaltered schedule. And so everything's all right, isn't it?" she went on lightly. 

Ames's face darkened. "No vote has been taken, " he said, a dull angerrising within him. 

"Oh, you are mistaken, " replied the girl. "The bill was voted out ofcommittee an hour ago. That's what I was writing up. Here's the wire, showing the alterations made. Mr. Wales voted for them. "

Ames read the message, and handed it back. Beyond the clouding of hisfeatures he gave no indication of his feelings. 

"So, you see, " continued the girl, "that incident is closed--for alltime, isn't it?"

He did not reply for some moments. Then:

"Rather odd, isn't it?" he commented, turning quite away from thatsubject, and glancing about, "that one with the high ideals youprofess should be doing newspaper work. "

"Just the contrary, " she quickly returned. "There is nothing sopractical as the ideal, for the ideal is the only reality. "

"Well, just what, may I ask, are you trying to do here?" hecontinued. 

"Run a newspaper on a basis of _practical_ Christianity, " sheanswered, her eyes dancing. "Just as all business will have to beconducted some day. "

He leaned back and laughed. 

"It is funny, isn't it?" she said, "to the carnal mind. "

The laughter abruptly ceased, and he looked keenly at her. But therewas no trace of malice in her fair face as she steadily returned thelook. 

"Has it paid yet?" he asked in a bantering tone. 

"Splendidly!" she exclaimed. 

"H'm! Well, I'll wager you won't get a dollar back on your investmentfor years. "

"A dollar! No, nor perhaps a penny! We are not measuring our profitsin money!"

"And your investment--let's see, " he mused, trying to draw her out. "You've put into this thing a couple of hundred thousand, eh?"

She smiled. "I'll tell you, " she said, "because money is the onlymeasure you have for estimating the worth of our project. Mr. Hitt hasput more than that amount already into the Express. "

"Well! well! Quite a little for you people to lose, eh?"

"You will have to change your tone if you remain here, Mr. Ames, " sheanswered quietly. "We talk only prosperity in this office. "

"Prosperity! In the face of overwhelming debts! That's good!" helaughed. 

She looked at him closely for a moment. "Debts?" she said in a lowvoice. "_You_ speak of debts? You who owe your fellow-men what you cannever, never repay? Why, Mr. Ames, there is no man in this whole wideworld, I think, who is so terribly, hopelessly in debt as you!"

"I? My dear girl! Why, I don't owe a dollar to any man!"

"No?" she queried, bending a little closer to him. "You do not oweMadam Beaubien the money you are daily filching from her? You do notowe poor Mr. Gannette the money and freedom of which you robbed him?You do not owe anything to the thousands of miners and mill hands whohave given, and still give, their lives for you? You do not owe forthe life which you took from Mrs. Hawley-Crowles? You do not owe forthe souls which you have debauched in your black career? For the humanwreckage which lies strewn in your wake? You do not owe Mr. Haynerdfor the Social Era which you stole from him?"

Ames remained rigid and quiet while the girl spoke. And when she hadfinished, and they sat looking squarely into each other's eyes, thesilence was like that which comes between the sharp click of lightningand the crash of thunder which follows. If it had been a man who thusaddressed him, Ames would have hurled him to the floor and trampledhim. As it was, he rose slowly, like a black storm-cloud mountingabove the horizon, and stood over the girl. 

She looked up into his face dauntlessly and smiled. "Sit down, " shequietly said. "I've only begun. Don't threaten, please, " shecontinued. "It wouldn't do any good, for I am not a bit afraid of you. Sit down. "

A faint smile began to play about Ames's mouth. Then he twitched hisshoulders slightly. "I--I got up, " he said, with an assumption ofnonchalance, "to--to read that--ah, that motto over there on thewall. " He went slowly to it and, stooping, read aloud:

 "Lift up the weak, and cheer the strong, Defend the truth, combat the wrong! You'll find no scepter like the pen To hold and sway the hearts of men. "

"That was written by your Eugene Field, " offered the girl. "Now readthe one on the opposite side. It is your _Tekel Upharsin_. "

He went to the one she indicated, and read the spiritual admonitionfrom Bryant:

 "Leave the vain, low strife That makes men mad--the tug for wealth and power-- The passions and the cares that wither life, And waste its little hour. "

"Now, " continued the girl, "that is only a suggestion to you of thereal handwriting on the wall. I put it there purposely, knowing thatsome day you would come in here and read it. "

Ames turned and looked at her in dumb wonder, as if she were someuncanny creature, possessed of occult powers. Then the significance ofher words trickled through the portals of his thought. 

"You mean, I suppose, " he said, "that if I am not persuaded by thesecond motto I shall feel the force of the first, as it sways you, eh?"

"I mean, Mr. Ames, " she replied steadily, "that the world is enteringupon a new era of thought, and that your carnal views and methodsbelong to a day that is past. This century has no place for them; itwearies of the things you represent; you are the epitome of that evilwhich must have its little hour of night before the reality dawns. "

He regarded her intently for some moments. "Am I to understand, " heasked, "that the Express, under its new management, is about to turnmuck-raker, and shovel mud at us men of wealth?"

"We are not considering the Express now, Mr. Ames, " she replied. "Itis I alone who am warning you. "

"Do Hitt and Haynerd bring against me the charges which you voiced amoment ago? And do you intend to make the columns of your paper spicywith your comments on my character and methods? I verily believe youare declaring war!"

"We are in the business of declaring truth, Mr. Ames, " she saidgently. "The Express serves all people. It will not shield you whenyou are the willing tool of evil, nor will it condone your methods atany price. "

"War, eh? Very well, " he replied with a bantering smile. "I came overhere this noon to get the policy of your paper. I accept yourchallenge. "

"Our challenge, Mr. Ames, " she returned, "is the challenge which evilalways finds in good. It is perpetual. "

"Fine!" he exclaimed. "I like a good enemy, and an honest one. Allright, marshal your forces. Who's your general, Hitt or Haynerd?"

"God, " she answered simply. 

For an instant the man was taken back. Then he recovered himself, andlaughed. 

"Do you know, " he said, bending close to her, "I admire you _very_much. You are a splendid little fighter. Now let's see if we can't gettogether on terms of peace. The world hasn't used you right, and Idon't blame you for being at odds with it. I've wanted to talk withyou about this for some time. The pin-headed society hens got jealousand tried to kill you. But, if you'll just say the word, I'll set youright up on the very pinnacle of social prestige here. I'll take youby the hand and lead you down through the whole crowd of 'em, andknock 'em over right and left! I'll make you the leading woman of thecity; I'll back the Express; we'll make it the biggest newspaper inthe country; I'll make you and your friends rich and powerful; I'llput you in the place that is rightfully yours, eh? Will you let me?"

He was bending ever nearer, and his hand closed over hers when heconcluded. His eyes were looking eagerly into her face, and a smile, winning, enticing, full of meaning, played about his lips. His voicehad dropped to a whisper. 

Carmen returned his smile, but withdrew her hand. "I'll join you, " shesaid, "on one condition. "

"Name it!" he eagerly cried. 

"That you obey me. "

"Well--and what does that mean?"

"Go; sell that thou hast; and give to the poor. Then come, take up thecross, and follow--my leader. "

He straightened up, and a sneer curled his lips. "I suppose, " hecoarsely insinuated, "that you think you now have material for anilluminating essay on my conversation. "

"No, " she said gently. "It is too dark to be illuminating. "

The man's facial muscles twitched slightly under the sting, but heretained his outward composure. "My dear girl, " he said, "it probablyhas not occurred to you that the world regards the Express as utterlywithout excuse for existence. It says, and truly, that a wishy-washysheet such as it, with its devitalized, strained, and bolted reportsof the world's vivid happenings, deserves to go under from sheer lackof interest. The experiment has been tried before, and has signallyfailed. Money alone can keep your paper alive. But, say the word, and--"

"And your money, as well as your business ideals, will be ours?" sheconcluded for him. 

He smiled and nodded. 

"Mr. Ames, " she said, "you have no ideals. No man who amasses millionsby taking advantage of the world's inhuman and pernicious socialsystem can have ideals worthy of the name. To apply your methods, yourthought, to the Express would result in sinking its moral tone intothe dust. As for your money--"

"Commit suicide, then!" cried the man, yielding to his rising anger. "Let the Express go down, carrying you and your spineless associateswith it! But, remember, you will be the sole cause of its ruin, andtheirs!"

Carmen rose quietly and opened the office door. "Your half hour is up, Mr. Ames, " she said, glancing at the little clock on her desk; "and Imust return to my work. "

For a moment the huge man stood looking down darkling upon the girl. He would have given his soul if he could have clasped that slenderform in his arms! A sudden impulse assailed him, and bade him fallupon his knees before her, and ask her forgiveness and guidance. Shestood waiting--perhaps just for that, and always with that same smileinto which no one had ever yet read aught but limitless love. 

The telephone bell rang sharply. Carmen hastened to answer the call. 

"Oh, yes, Mr. Hitt. Yes--yes--the cotton schedule was reported outquite changed--yes, an hour ago!"

When she looked up, she was alone. 

 * * * * *

"Dearie, " said the Beaubien at evening, as Carmen seated herself inthat woman's lap and wound her arms about her neck, "I am afraid foryou. "

"Well, mother dearest, " replied the girl, giving her a tightersqueeze, "that is a sheer waste of time. If you haven't anything moreto occupy you than fear, you'd better come down to the office, andI'll set you to work. "

"But--you have defied him--as he says, declared war--"

"No, dearest, not that. It is the carnal mind, using him as a channel, that has declared war against good. But evil is not power; nor has itbeen given power by God. My one thought is this: Am I doing that whichwill result in the greatest good to the greatest number? Am I lovingmy neighbor as myself? Serving as I would be served? Not as evil wouldwant to be served, but as good. If my mental attitude is right, thenGod's law becomes operative in all that I do, and I am protected. Don't you see?"

"I know, dearie, but--there's the telephone! Oh, I do hope they don'twant you!"

Carmen answered the call, and returned with the announcement thatHaynerd was in distress. "Sidney Ames is--not there, " she said. "Hewas to report a meeting. Mr. Haynerd wanted Lewis. Now don't worry, dearest; I--I won't go alone. "

The girl had taken her coat and hat. A moment later she gave theBeaubien a kiss, and hurried out into the night. In half an hour shestood at Haynerd's desk. 

"What are we going to do?" moaned that perturbed individual. "Here Iam, tied down, depending on Sid, and he's drunk!"

"Well, I'm here. What's the assignment?"

Haynerd looked up at her, and hesitated. "Mass meeting, over on theEast Side. Here's the address, " taking up a slip of paper. "Openmeeting, I'm told; but I suspect it's an I. W. W. Affair. Hello!" hesaid, replying to a telephone call. "What's that? The Ames mills atAvon closed down this afternoon? What's reason? Oh, all right. Call mein an hour. "

He hung up the receiver and turned to Carmen. "That's what thismeeting is about, " he said significantly. "Four thousand handssuddenly thrown out at the Avon mills. Dead of winter, too!"

Sidney Ames slouched into the editor's office and sank heavily into achair. Haynerd gave a despairing gesture. "Look here, " he said, insudden desperation, "that fellow's got to be sobered up, now! Orelse--"

Another call came, this time from the Beaubien. Father Waite had justcome in. Could he take the assignment? Haynerd eagerly gave theaddress over the 'phone, and bade him start at once. 

"Now, " he said, nodding at Carmen, and jerking his thumb over hisshoulder toward the intoxicated reporter, "it's up to you. "

Carmen rose at once and went to the lad. "Come, Sidney, " she said, taking his hand. 

The boy roused dully, and shuffled stupidly after the girl into herown little office. 

Carmen switched on the lights and closed the door. Then she went tothe limp, emaciated form crumpled up in a chair, and sat down besideit. 

"Sidney, " she said, taking his hand, "there is but one habit--thehabit of righteousness. That is the habit that you are going to wearnow. "

Outside, the typewriters clicked, the telephones tinkled, and thelinotypes snapped. There were quick orders; men came and wenthurriedly; but there was no noise, no confusion. Haynerd toiled like abeaver; but his whole heart was in his work. He had found his niche. Carmen's little room voiced the sole discordant note that night. Andas the girl sat there, holding the damp hand of the poor victim, shethanked her God that the lad's true individuality was His purethought of him. 

 * * * * *

At dawn Sidney Ames awoke. A rosy-tinted glow lay over the littleroom, and the quiet form at his side seemed an ethereal presence. Agentle pressure from the hand that still clasped his brought a returnof his earthly sense, and he roused up. 

"Miss Carmen! You--?"

"Yes, Sidney. " The gentle voice sounded to him like distant music. 

"I--you--you brought me in here last night--but--" His hands closedabout the little one that lay in his grasp. "You--haven't sathere--with me--all night?"

"Yes, Sidney, all night. "

With a low moan the boy buried his face in her arms, and burst into aflood of bitter tears. 

"It isn't real, Sidney, " she whispered, twining an arm about his neck. "It isn't real. "

For some moments the lad sobbed out his shame and misery. Carmenstroked his fair hair, and drew him closer to her, while tears of loveand pity coursed down her own cheeks. 

Then, suddenly, the boy started up. "Don't touch me!" he cried, struggling to his feet, while his eyes shone with a wild light. 

He started for the door, but Carmen darted past him and stood with herback against it, facing him. "Stop, Sidney!" she cried, holding herhands against him. "It can't drive you! It is powerless! _God reignshere!_"

She turned the lock as he hesitated; then took his arm and led him, trembling and shivering, back to his chair. 

"We are going to meet this, Sidney, you and I, " she whispered, bendingover the shaking form. 

The suffering lad shook his head and buried his face in his hands. "You can't, " he moaned; "you can't--I'm _gone!_" His voice died into atremble of hopeless despair, of utter surrender. 

Carmen bit her lip. She had faced many trying situations in her brieflife-experience; but, though she met it with dauntless courage andknew its source, the insidious suggestion now persisted that the eyesof her people were upon her, and that by this would stand or falltheir faith. Aye, the world was watching her now, keen-eyed andcritical. Would she give it cause to say she could not prove her faithby her works?

And then came the divine message that bade her "Know that I amGod!"--that bade her know that responsibility lay not upon hershoulders, but upon the Christ for whom she was now called towitness. To see, or permit the world to see, this mountainous error, this heaped-up evil, as real and having power, meant a denial of theChrist and utter defeat. It meant a weary retracing of her own steps, and a long night of spiritual darkness to those whose eyes had beenupon her. 

"Sidney, " she said, turning to the sunken boy at her side, "you areright, the old man _is_ gone. And now we are going to create 'newheavens and a new earth, and the former shall not be remembered norcome into mind'--as thought. Underneath are the everlasting arms, andyou have sunk down, down, down, until at last you rest upon them, andyou find that you haven't sunk at all, and that you couldn't possiblyget away from that infinite Love that is always drawing you toitself!"

She put her arm again about the lad, and drew him toward her. "Listen, Sidney dear, I am standing with you--and with me is omnipotent God!His arm is not shortened, that it can not save you from the pit ofspiritual oblivion into which human thought would seem to make youthink you had fallen, engulfed by the senses. "

The boy raised his head and looked at her through his bloodshot eyes. "You don't know!" he whispered hoarsely; "you don't understand--"

"It is just because I _do_ understand, Sidney, that I am able to helpyou, " she interrupted quickly. "I understand it all. "

"It--it isn't only whiskey--it's--" his head sank again--"it's--morphine!And--God! it's got me!"

"It's got the false thought that seems to call itself 'you, '" shesaid. "Well, let it have it! They belong together. Let them go. We'llcling to them no longer, but shake them off for good. For good, Isaid, Sidney--and that means, for _God_!"

"God?" he echoed. "I know no God! If there were a God, I shouldn't bewhere I am now. "

"Then I will know it for you, " she softly answered. "And you are nowright where you belong, in Him. And His love is about you. "

"Love!" He laughed bitterly. "Love! I never knew what it meant. Myparents didn't teach it to their children. And when I tried to learn, my father kicked me into the street!"

"Then, Sidney, I'll teach you. For I am in the world just to show whatlove will do. "

"My father--it's his fault--all his fault!" cried the boy, flaring upand struggling to rise. "God! I hate him--hate him! It's his faultthat I'm a sot and a drug fiend!"

"It is hate, Sidney, that manifests in slavery, in sodden brains, andshaking nerves. You don't hate your father; the hate is against yourthought of him; and that thought is all wrong. We're going to correctit. "

"I used to drink--some, when I lived at home, " the boy went on, stilldwelling on the thoughts that held him chained. "But he could havesaved me. And then I fell in love--I thought it was love, but itwasn't. The woman was--she was years older than I. When she left thecity, I followed her. And when I found out what she was, and came backhome, my father threw me out--cut me off--God!"

"Never mind, Sidney, " the girl whispered. "It isn't true anyway. " Butshe realized that the boy must voice the thoughts that were tearinghis very soul, and she suffered him, for it uncovered to her thehidden sources of his awful malady. 

"And then I drank, drank, drank!" he moaned. "And I lay in thegutters, and in brothels, and--then, one day, Carlson told me to comeand work for him. He thought I could straighten up. And so I went to adoctor, and he--God curse him!--he injected morphine into my arm tosober me. And that taught me that I could drink all I wanted to, andsober up on morphine. But then I learned--I found--"

He stopped, and began to fumble in his pockets. His eyes became wilderas he searched. 

"Where is it?" he cried, turning fiercely upon the girl. "Did you takeit from me? Give it to me--_quick_!" He caught her wrist and twistedit painfully. His voice became a scream. 

_"God is everywhere!"_ flashed through the girl's thought. "I am notafraid to see evil seem to have power!" Then aloud: "I know what youare searching for, Sidney. Yes, I have it. Listen, and I will give itto you. You are searching for help. No, it isn't in morphine tablets. It is in love--right here--the Christ-principle, that is bigger farthan the demons that seem to tear you! I have _all_ power from God, and you, evil, _can not touch me_!"

The boy started at the ringing voice, and loosened his grasp. Then hesank back into his chair, shaking as with palsy. 

"Sidney!" she cried, seizing his hand. "Rise, and stand with me! Wedon't have to struggle--we don't have to fight--we only have to_know_. All that you are wrestling with is the world-wide belief thatthere is a power apart from God! _There is none!_ Any claim that thereis such a power is a lie! I have proved it! You and I will prove itagain! There is no power or intelligence in whiskey or morphine! Ihave been sent to help you! The Christ-principle will save you! Thereis nothing beyond its reach, not even your problem!

"It is a problem, that's all, Sidney, " she went on, as he becamecalmer. "And I have the solution. Will you put yourself in my charge, in my care, and let me meet it for you?" She bent over him and lookedeagerly into his drawn face. 

"We are not going to fight, " she continued. "We are not going toresist evil as the world does, and so make it real. I know, dear, justhow pressing your need is. I know, and I understand. I know howawfully real it seems to you. But trust me, as I trust the Christ. For_victory is inevitable_!"

For a few moments they sat together, hand in hand. The boy seemed tohave been stunned. Then Carmen rose. "Come, " she said. "I am going totake you home with me. I am going to keep you right with me, rightunder my thought. I'm going to be the mirror, constantly with you, that reflects infinite love to you every moment. Come; your problem ismine now. The burden of proof rests upon me. Don't think of anythingelse now, excepting that God has your hand and is leading you. "

She took his arm and drew him, unresisting, yet uncomprehending, tothe door. As she opened it, she looked up into his face and smiled. The boy choked, and turned back. 

"No!" she cried, shifting her grasp to his hand. "No; you are minenow! And I shall not turn you over to yourself again until the problemis solved!"

Hitt met them as they came out of the room. "Well, " he said, "I'vekept Madam Beaubien informed as well as I could. But she's beenworried. Where are you going?"

"Home, " she said simply. "We'll be back at three--perhaps. "

 * * * * *

But at three that afternoon the Beaubien telephoned to Hitt thatCarmen would not be down. 

"She will not leave the boy, " the woman said. "She holds him--I don'tknow how. And I know he is trying desperately to help her. But--Inever saw any one stand as she does! Lewis is here, but he doesn'tinterfere. We're going to put a bed in his room, and Sidney will sleepthere. Yes, I'll keep you informed. Tell Ned, won't you?"

Haynerd stormed; but the tempest was all on the surface. "I know, Iknow, " he said, in reply to Hitt's explanation. "That boy's life ismore to her than a million newspapers, or anything else in theuniverse just at present. She'll win! The devil can't look her in theface! I--I wish I were--What are you standing there for? Go 'long andget to work!"

In the little Beaubien cottage that afternoon the angry waves of humanfear, of human craving, of hatred, wrath, and utter misery mountedheaven-high, and fell again. Upon them walked the Christ. As thenight-shadows gathered, Sidney Ames, racked and exhausted, fell into adeep sleep. Then Carmen left his bedside and went into the littleparlor, where sat the Beaubien and Father Waite. 

"Here, " she said, handing a hypodermic needle and a vial of tablets tothe latter. "He didn't use them. And now, " she continued, "you mustwork with me, and stand--firm! Sidney's enemies are those of his ownmental household. It is our task to drive them out. We have got touproot from his consciousness the thought that alcohol and drugs are apower. Hatred and self-condemnation, as well as self-love, voiced in asense of injury, are other mental enemies that have got to be drivenout, too. There is absolutely _no_ human help! It is all mental, everybit of it! You have got to know that, and stand with me. We are goingto prove the Christ-principle omnipotent with respect to these seemingthings. 

"But, " she added, after a moment's pause, "you must not watch thiserror so closely that it can't get away. Don't watch it at all! For ifyou do, you make a reality of it--and then, well--"

"The case is in your hands, Carmen, " said Father Waite gently. "Weknow that Jesus would cure this boy instantly, if he were here--"

"Well--the Christ _is_ here!" cried the girl, turning upon him. "Putaway your 'ifs' and 'buts. ' Stand, and _know_!"

The man bowed before the rebuke. "And these, " he said, holding out theneedle and vial, "shall we have further use for them?"

"It will be given us what we are to do and say, " she returned. "Thecase rests now with God. "

CHAPTER 9

Four weeks from that crisp morning when Carmen led the bewildered, stupified lad to her home, she and Sidney sat out upon the littleporch of the cottage, drinking in the glories of the winter sun. January was but half spent, and the lad and girl were making the mostof the sudden thaw before the colder weather which had been predictedmight be upon them. 

What these intervening weeks had been to Carmen, none might haveguessed as she sat there with the sunlight filtering in streamlets ofgold through her brown hair. But their meaning to the boy might havebeen read with ease in the thin, white face, turned so constantlytoward his fair companion. They were deeply, legibly written there, those black nights, when he would dash out into the hall, determinedto break through the windows of the nearest dram shop and drink, drink, drink, until the red liquor burst from his eyes, his mouth, hisnostrils! Those ghastly nights, when Carmen would stand before him, her arms outspread across the door, and beat back the roaring devilswithin him! Those long days of agonized desire for the vicious drugwhich had sapped his manhood! Those fell hours, when low curses pouredfrom his burning lips upon her and upon all mankind! Those cold, freezing sweats, and the dry, cracking fever! Those hours when, withCarmen always by his side, he tramped mile after mile through driftsand ice, until he dropped at length from sheer exhaustion, only toawake, hours later, to find that the girl had brought him home, safe, unharmed!--

And then, oh, the "Peace, be still!" which he began to hear, faint atfirst, but growing in volume, until, at last, it became a mighty, thunderous command, before which the demons paled and slunk away, never to return! Oh, the tears of agony that had given way to tears ofjoy, of thanksgiving! Oh, the weakness that had been his strength!And, oh, the devotion of this fair girl--aye, and of her associates, too--but all through her! Had she proved her God before the eyes ofthe world? That she had! Day after day, clad in the impenetrable armorof her love, she had stood at this struggling lad's side, meeting thearrows of death with her shield of truth! Night after night she hadsat by his couch, her hand crushed in his desperate grasp, floutingthe terror that stalked before his delirious gaze! What work she haddone in those long weeks, none would ever know; but the boy himselfknew that he had emerged from the valley of the shadow of death with anew mind, and that she had walked with him all the dark, cloud-hungway. 

As they sat there in the bright sunlight that morning, their thoughtwas busy with the boy's future. Old plans, old ambitions, had seemedto lift with the lifting of the mortal curse which had rested uponhim, and upward through the ashes of the past a tender flower of hopewas pushing its way. He was now in a new world. The last tie whichbound him to his family had been severed by his own father two weeksbefore, when the shadow of death fell athwart his mother's brilliantpath. Mrs. J. Wilton Ames, delicate in health when recalled fromabroad, and still suffering from the fatigue of the deadly socialwarfare which had preceded her sudden flight from her husband'sconsuming wrath, had failed to rally from the indisposition whichseized her on the night of the grand Ames reception. For days sheslowly faded, and then went quickly down under a sharp, witheringattack of pneumonia. A few brief weeks after the formal opening of theAmes palace its mistress had sighed away her blasted hopes, her vaindesires, her petty schemes of human conquest and revenge, and had goneto face anew her problems on another plane of mortal thought. It wasrumored by the servants that, in her last hours, when she heard therustle of the death angel's wings beside her, a great terror hadstricken her, and she had called wildly for that son whom she hadnever cared to know. It was whispered that she had begged of herhusband to seek the lad and lead him home; that she had pleaded withhim to strive, with the boy, to find the better things of life; thatshe had begged him to warn and be warned of her present sufferings, asshe lay there, stripped of every earthly aid, impoverished in heart, in soul, in mind, with her hands dusty and begrimed with the ashes ofthis life's mocking spoils. How true these rumors, none might say. What truth lay hidden in her mad ravings about the parentage ofCarmen, and her confused, muttered references to Monsignor Lafelle, noone knew. But of those who stood about her bedside there was none whocould gainsay the awed whisperings of the servants that this haughtyleader of the great city's aristocracy had passed from this life intothe darkness beyond in pitiable misery and terror. 

The news of his mother's death had come at a time when the boy waswild with delirium, at an hour when Waite, and Hitt, and Carmen stoodwith him in his room and strove to close their ears against theshrieking of the demon that was tearing him. Hitt at once called upWillett, and asked for instructions. A few minutes later came themessage that the Ames house was forever barred against the waywardson. And it was not until this bright winter morning, when the ladagain sat clothed and in his right mind, that Carmen had gently brokenthe news to him. 

"I never knew her, " the boy had said at length, rousing from hismeditations. "Few of the rich people's children know their parents. Iwas brought up by nurses and tutors. I never knew what it was to putmy arms around my mother, and kiss her. I used to long to, at times. And often I would plan to surprise her by suddenly running into herarms and embracing her. But then, when I would see her, she was alwaysso far away, so cold, so beautifully dressed. And she seldom spoke tome, or to Kathleen, until we were grown up. And by that time I wasrunning wild. And then--then--"

"There!" admonished Carmen, reaching over and taking his hand. "That'sin our little private cemetery, you know. The old error is dead, andwe are not going to dig it up and rehearse it, are we?"

He smiled wanly. "I'm like a little baby, " he said sadly. "I'm justbeginning to live. And you are my mother, the only one I've everknown. "

Carmen laughed merrily. "Let me be your sister, " she said. "We are sonear of an age, you know. "

He raised her hand to his lips. "You are my angel, " he murmured. "Mybright, beautiful angel. What would I have been without you!"

"Now, Sidney!" she warned, holding up a finger. "What have I told youso often that Jesus said? 'Of mine own self I can do nothing. ' Nor canI, Sidney dear. It was--" her voice sank to a whisper--"it was theChrist-principle. It worked through him as a channel; and it workedthrough me. "

"You're going to teach me all about that, " he said, again pressing herhand to his lips. "You won't cast me adrift yet, will you, littlesister?"

"Cast you adrift! Never, Sidney dear! Why, you're still mine, youknow! I haven't given you back to yourself yet, have I? But now let'stalk about your work. If you want to write, you are going to, and youare going to write _right_. "

"And you, Carmen?" he asked, wondering. 

"Back to the Express, " she said lightly. "I haven't written a word forit now for a month. And how dear, funny old Ned has scolded!"

"You--you dropped everything--your work--all--for a poor, worthlesshulk like me, " he sighed. "I--I can't understand it. You didn't knowme, hardly. "

"Sidney dear, " the girl replied. "It wasn't for you. It was for God. Everything I do is '_as unto Him_. ' I would have done the same foranybody, whether I knew the person or not. I saw, not you, but thehuman need--oh, such a need! And the Christ-principle made me a humanchannel for meeting it, that is all. Drop my work, and my owninterests! Why, Sidney, what is anything compared with meeting humanneeds? Didn't Jesus drop everything and hurry out to meet the sick andthe suffering? Was money-making, or society, or personal desire, orworldly pleasure anything to him when he saw a need? You don't seem tounderstand that this is what I am here for--to show what love willdo. "

"No, " he murmured. "I--I guess I know only the world's idea of love. "

"And that is love's counterfeit, self-love, sentimentalism, sex-mesmerism, and all that, " she added. "But now, back to your workagain. You're going to write, write, write! My, but the world ishungry for _real_ literature! Your yearning to meet that need is asign of your ability to do it. But, remember, everything that comes toyou comes from within. You are, in fact, a miner; and your mine isyour mind; and that is unlimited, for God is the only mind, infiniteand omnipresent. Now you are going to mine that mind. 

"Listen, " she went on hurriedly. "Don't be afraid to be afraid. Wenever fear a real thing; we fear only our false thoughts of things. Always those thoughts are absolutely wrong, and we wake up and findthat we were fearing only fear-thoughts themselves. Haven't you evernoticed it? Now destroy the chains of fear which limit your thought, and God will issue!

"Well, " without waiting for his reply, "now you have reached thatplane of thought where you don't really care for what the world has tooffer you. You have ceased to want to be rich, or famous. You are notafraid to be obscure and poor. You have learned, at least in part, that the real business of this life lies in seeking good, inmanifesting and expressing it in every walk, and in reflecting itconstantly to your fellow-men. Having learned that, you are ready tolive. Remember, there is no luck, no such thing as chance. The causeof everything that can possibly come to you lies within yourself. Itis a function of your thought. The thought that you allow to enteryour mentality and become active there, later becomes externalized. Be, oh, so careful, then, about your thought, and the basis upon whichit rests! For, in your writing, you have no right to inflict falsethought upon your credulous fellow-mortals. "

"But, " he replied, "we are told that in literature we must deal withhuman realities, and with things as they are. The human mind exists, and has to be dealt with. "

"The human mind does not exist, Sidney, except as supposition. Thereare no human realities. The world still awaits the one who will showit things as they _really_ are. Human realities, so-called, are thehorrible, ghastly unrealities of carnal thought, without any basis ofthe divine Christ-principle. I know, we are told that the great booksof the world are those which preserve and interpret its life. Alas! isit true greatness to detail, over and over again in endless recital, the carnal motives of the human mind, its passions and errors, itsawful mesmerism, its final doom? Yes, perhaps, on one condition: that, like a true critic, you picture human concepts only to show theirunreality, their nothingness, and to show how they may be overcome. "

"But most books--"

"Ah, yes, most books are written only to amuse the dispirited humanmind for a brief hour, to make it forget for a moment its troubles. They are literary narcotics; they are sops to jaded appetites, that'sall. A book, for example, that pictures an injured man discovering agreat treasure, and then using it to carry out his schemes ofrevenge--well, what influence for good has such a work? It is only astimulus to evil, Sidney. But had it shown him using that great wealthto bless his persecutors and turn them from their mesmerism to reallife and good--"

"Such things don't happen in this world, Carmen. "

"But they could, and should, Sidney dear. And they will, some day. Then will come the new literature, the literature of _good_! And itwill make people think, rather than relieve them from the ennui ofsolid thought, as our present novels do. The intellectual palate thenwill find only insipidity in such books as pour from our presses now. The ability to converse glibly about authors who wallow in humanunrealities will then no longer be considered the hall-mark ofculture. Culture in that day will be conformity to truth. "

The lad smiled at the enthusiastic girl. "Little sister, " he said, "you are a beautiful idealist. "

"But, " came her quick reply, "are you not a living illustration of thepracticability of my idealism, Sidney?"

The boy choked, and tears filled his eyes. Carmen stole an arm abouthim. "The most practical man who ever lived, Sidney dear, was Jesus. And he was the greatest idealist. He had ideas that differed veryradically from other people's, but he did not hide them for fear ofgiving offense. He was not afraid to shock people with the truth aboutthemselves. He tore down, yes; but he then reconstructed, and on afoundation of demonstrable truth. He was not afraid to defy theRabbis, the learned, and the puffed-up. He did not bow abjectly beforethe mandarins and pedagogues. Had he done so, and given the peoplewhat they wanted and were accustomed to, they would have made him aking--and his mission would have been a dead failure!"

"And for that they slew him, " returned the boy. 

"It is the cowardly fear of slaughter, Sidney, that keeps people fromcoming out and standing for what they know to be right to-day. You arenot one of those cravens. "

"But the people who do that, Carmen, are called demagogues andmuck-rakers!"

She laughed. "And the muck-rakers, Sidney, have made a sorry mess, haven't they? They destroy without ruth, but seldom, if ever, putforth a sane suggestion for the betterment of conditions. They trafficin sensationalism, carping criticism, and abuse. 'To find fault, ' saidDemosthenes, 'is easy, and in every man's power; but to point out theproper remedy is the proof of a wise counselor. ' The remedy which Ipoint out, Sidney, is the Christ-principle; and all I ask is thatmankind seek to demonstrate it, even as Jesus bade us do. He was asuccess, Sidney, the greatest success the world has ever known. Andwhy? Because he followed ideals with utter loyalty--because he voicedtruth without fear--because he made his business the service ofhumanity. He took his work seriously, not for money, not for humanpreferment, but for mankind. And his work bears the stamp ofeternity. "

"I'm afraid--" he began. 

"You're _not_ afraid, Sidney!" the girl quickly interrupted. "Oh, whydoes the human mind always look for and expect that which it does notwant to see come or happen!"

The boy laughed heartily at the quick sally of her delightfullyquotidian thought. "You didn't let me finish, " he said. "I was goingto say that I'm afraid if I write and speak only of spiritual things Ishall not be understood by the world, nor even given a hearing. "

"Well, don't use that word 'afraid. ' My! how the human mind clings toeverything, even words, that express its chief bogy, fear. "

"All right; I accept the rebuke. But, my question?"

"That was the case with Jesus. And yet, has anything, written orspoken, ever endured as his spiritual teachings? The present-day novelor work of fiction is as fleeting as the human thought it attempts tocrystallize. Of the millions of books published, a handful endure. Those are they which illustrate the triumph of good over evil in humanthought. And the greatest of such books is the Bible. "

"Well, I'm hunting for a subject now. "

"Don't hunt. Wait--and _know_! The subject will then choose you. Itwill pelt you. It will drive you to the task of transcribing it. Justas one is now driving me. Sidney--perhaps I can give you the subject!Perhaps I am the channel for this, too!"

He looked at her inquisitively. "Well, " bending over closer to her, "what is it, little sister?"

The girl looked out over the dripping shrubs and the soft snow. Buther thought was not there. She saw a man, a priest, she knew notwhere, but delving, plodding, digging for the truth which the humanmind has buried under centuries and centuries of material _débris_. She saw him, patiently bearing his man-made burden, striving to shielda tender, abandoned girl, and to transfer to her his own great worldlyknowledge, but without its dross. She saw the mighty sacrifice, whenthe man tore her from himself, and thrust her out beyond the awfuldanger in which he dwelt. She understood now. The years had taught hermuch. It was love--aye, the love that alone makes men great, the lovethat lays down human life in self-immolating service. 

She turned to the waiting lad. "You will write it, Sidney? I will tellyou the whole beautiful story. It is an illustration of the way loveworks through human channels. And perhaps--perhaps, some day, the bookmay reach him--yes, some day. And it will tell him--oh, Sidney, itwill tell him that I know, and that I love him, love him, love him!"

 * * * * *

In the office of the manager of the Express three heads were closetogether that morning, and three faces bore outward evidence of theserious thought within. 

"Miss Wall tells me, Ned, " Hitt was saying, "that her father used tobe associated with Ames, and that, at his demise, he left his estate, badly entangled, for Ames to settle. Now it transpires that Ames hasbeen cunning enough to permit Miss Wall to draw upon his bank almostwithout limit, he making up any deficit with his own personal notes. "

"Ah!" commented Haynerd. "I think I see the shadow of his fine hand!"

"And now, " resumed Hitt, "she is given to understand that Ames hasbeen obliged by the bank examiner to withdraw his personal notes assecurity for her deficits, and that the revenue from her estate mustbe allowed to accrue to the benefit of the Ames bank until such timeas all obligations are met. "

"Beautiful!" ejaculated Haynerd. "In other words, Elizabeth is simplycut off!"

"Just so. And now, another thing: Madam Beaubien's lawyer called onher to-day, and informed her that Hood had gone into court and securedan injunction, tying up all revenue from her estate until it can beunraveled. That cuts off her income, likewise. "

Haynerd whistled. "The hound!" he ejaculated. "Ames is out to do upthe Express, eh?"

"There is no doubt of it, Ned, " returned Hitt seriously. "And toutterly ruin all connected with it. "

"Then, by God, we'll fight him to the last ditch!" cried the excitedHaynerd. 

"I think you forget, Ned, that we have a lady with us, " nodding towardMiss Wall, "and that you are seriously trying to reform, for Carmen'ssake. "

"I beg your pardon, Elizabeth, " said Haynerd meekly. "I really amtrying to be decent, you know. But when I think of Ames it's like ared rag to a bull!"

Miss Wall laughed. "Never mind, Ned. I admire your fighting spirit. "

"Of course, " Hitt continued, "oil still flows from our paternal wells. But in order to raise money at once I shall be obliged either to sellmy oil holdings or mortgage them. They have got to take care of us allnow, including Madam Beaubien. "

"Where's Carmen?" asked Haynerd suddenly. 

"Home, with Sidney. There's another anomaly: while Ames is trying toruin us, that girl is saving his son. Great world, isn't it?"

"It's a hell of a world!" cried Haynerd. "I--I beg your pardon, Elizabeth. The fact is, either you or I will have to retire from thismeeting, for I'm getting mad. I--I may say things yet!"

"Say anything you want to, Ned. I like to hear your sulphurouslanguage to-day. It helps to express my own feelings, " replied thewoman. 

"The circulation of the Express, " Hitt went on, "is entirelyartificial. Our expense is tremendous, and our revenue slight. Andstill Carmen insists on branching out and putting into practical formher big ideas. Limitation is a word that is not in her vocabulary!"

"Hitt, can't we fight Ames with his own fire? What about that Walesaffair?"

"Ames is very cunning, " answered Hitt. "When he learned that thecotton schedule had been altered in the Ways and Means Committee, hepromptly closed down his Avon mills. That was to scare Congress. Thenhe resumed, but on half time. That was a plea of distress. I presumehe will later return to full time, but with a reduced scale of wages. He's trying to coerce Congress. Now how does he intend to do it? Thisway: he will force a strike at Avon--a February strike--four thousandhands out in the cold. Meantime, he'll influence every other spinnerin the country to do likewise. They'll all follow his lead. Now, canCongress stand up against that sort of argument? And, besides, he willgrease the palms of a large number of our dignified statesmen, you maybe sure!"

"Mr. Hitt, " said Miss Wall, "I suggest that you send Carmen to Avon atonce. I know of no one who can get to the bottom of things as she can. Let her collect the facts regarding the situation down there, andthen--"

"Send her first to Washington!" interrupted Haynerd. "Have her hangaround the lobbies of the Capitol for a while, and meet a lot of thoseold sap-heads. What information she won't succeed in worming out ofthem isn't in 'em, that's all!"

"But, " objected Hitt, "if she knew that we would use her informationfor a personal attack upon Ames, she'd leave us. "

"There's no objection to her getting the facts, anyway, is there?"demanded Haynerd, waxing hot again. 

"N--no, I suppose not. But that will take additional money. Very well, I'll do it. I'll put a mortgage on my Ohio holdings at once. "

"I don't think I would be afraid, " suggested Miss Wall. "We might notuse the information Carmen may collect in Avon or Washington, butsomething, I am sure, is bound to come out of it. Something alwayscomes out of what she does. She's the greatest asset the Express has. We must use her. "

"All well and good, " put in Haynerd. "And yet, if she finds anybodydown there who needs help, even the President himself, she'll throwthe Express to the winds, just as she did in Sidney's case. You can'tbank on her!"

"No, that's true, Ned, for while we preach she's off somewherepracticing. We evolve great truths, and she applies and demonstratesthem. But she has saved Sidney--her Christ did it through her. And shehas given the lad to us, a future valuable man. "

"Sure--if we are to _have_ any future, " growled Ned. 

"See here, " retorted Hitt, brindling, "have we in our numerousgatherings at Madam Beaubien's spoken truth or nonsense? If youbelieve our report, then accept and apply it. Now who's to go to Avonwith Carmen?"

"Sidney, " suggested Miss Wall. 

"Sid?" exclaimed Haynerd. "Huh! Why, if those Magyars down therediscovered he was Ames's son, they'd eat him alive!"

The telephone rang. Hitt answered the call. Then, turning to hiscompanions:

"Waite says he wants a meeting to-night. He'd like to report on hisresearch work. Guess we'd better call it. I'll inform Morton. Notelling when we may get together again, if the girl--" He becamesuddenly silent, and sat some time looking vacantly out through thewindow. 

"She goes to Avon to-morrow, " he abruptly announced, "alone. " Histhought had been dwelling on that 'something not ourselves' which heknew was shielding and sustaining the girl. 

CHAPTER 10

"We have now arrived at a subject whose interest and significance forus are incalculable, " said Father Waite, standing before the littlegroup which had assembled in their usual meeting place in the firsthours of the morning, for only at that time could Hitt and Haynerdleave the Express. "We have met to discuss briefly the meaning of thatmarvelous record of a whole nation's search for God, the Bible. Ashave been men's changing concepts of that 'something not ourselvesthat makes for righteousness, ' so have been individuals, tribes, andnations. The Bible records the development of these concepts inIsrael's thought; it records the unquenchable longings of that peoplefor truth; it records their prophetic vision, their sacred songs, their philosophy, their dreams, and their aspirations. To most of usthe Bible has long been a work of profound mystery, cryptical, undecipherable. And largely, I now believe, because we were wont toapproach it with the bias of preconceived theories of literal, evenverbal, inspiration, and because we could not read into it the recordof Israel's changing idea of God, from a wrathful, consuming Lord ofhuman caprice and passions, to the infinite Father of love, whom Jesusrevealed as the Christ-principle, which worked through him and throughall who are gaining the true spiritual concept, as is this girl whosits here on my right with the lad whom you have seen rescued by theChrist from the pit of hell. "

His voice choked when he referred to Carmen and Sidney. But he quicklystifled his emotion, and went on:

"In our last meeting Mr. Hitt clearly showed us how the so-calledhuman mind has seemed to develop as the suppositional opposite of themind that is God; and how through countless ages of human reckoningthat pseudo-mind has been revealing its various types, until atlength, rising ever higher in the scale of being, it revealed itshuman man as a mentality whose consciousness is the suppositionalactivity of false thought, and which builds, incessantly, mentalconcepts out of this kind of thought and posits them within itself asmaterial objects, as its own body, its universe, its all. And heshowed us how, little by little, that human mind's interpretations ofthe infinite mind's true ideas became better, under the divineinfiltration of truth, until at last there developed a type, now knownto us as the Jewish nation, which caught a clearer glimpse of truth, and became conscious of that 'something not ourselves' which makesfor right-thinking, and consequent correct mental concepts andexternalizations. This, then, was the starting point of our religion. These first glimpses of truth, and their interpretations, as set forthin the writings of the early Jewish nation, constitute the nucleus ofour Bible. 

"But were these records exact statements of truth? Not always. Theprimitive human mind could only lisp its wonderful glimpses of truthin legend and myth. And so in fable and allegory the early Israelitessought to show the power of good over evil, and thereby stimulate adesire for right conduct, based, of course, on right-thinking. Andthus it is that the most significant thing in their sacred records istheir many, many stories of the triumph of the spiritual over thematerial. 

"Time passed. The Hebrew nation waxed prosperous. Their right-thinkingbecame externalized outwardly in material abundance and physicalcomfort. But the people's understanding was not sufficiently great toshield them from the temptation which material wealth and power alwaysconstitute. Their vision gradually became obscured. The mist ofmaterialism spread over it. Those wonderful flashes of truth ceased todart across their mental horizon. Their god became a magnified conceptof the human man, who dickered with them over the construction of histemples, and who, by covenants, bribes, and promises, induced them tobehave themselves. Prophecy died. And at length the beautiful visionfaded quite away. 

"Then followed four hundred human years, during which the vicissitudesof the Hebrew nation were many and dark. But during those longcenturies there developed that world wonder, a whole nation's unitedlonging for a deliverer! The prophets promised a great change in theirfallen fortunes. Expectation grew keen. Desire expanded into yearning. Their God would not forsake them. Was not His grace sufficient? Thoughtheir concept of Him had grossly degenerated, yet the deliverer wouldcome, he _must_!

"And he did. In the depths of their night--in the midst of theheaviest darkness that ever lay over the world--there arose a greatlight. Through the densest ignorance of the human mind filtered theChrist-principle, and was set forth by the channel through which itcame, the man Jesus. 

"What had happened? Had there been a conference among God, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, to debate the sending of salvation to mankind, asrecorded by the poet Milton? Alas! what a crude, materialisticconception. Had God so loved the world that He gave His only begottenSon? But God _is_ Love, infinite, unchanging. And His unique Son, theChrist-principle, available to all mankind, was 'before Abraham. ' Hada great, dimly perceived principle been demonstrated, namely, that, if we yearn long and earnestly for the right, it comes? Had the Jewishnation 'demonstrated' the Christ? Had their centuries of looking andexpecting resulted in a saviour being manifested to them? It was aperiod in the unfolding of human thought when civilization had reachedits lowest depths. Morality had evaporated to the dregs. Rome wasbecome the world's harlot. A few years more, and Nero would drag hisvulpine immorality across the stage. Paganism was virtue in comparisonwith the lust of men in that dark hour. And yet, in the very midst ofit, appeared the most venerated, the most beloved man in all history, bearing the Christ-message like a flaming torch!

"'Always our being is descending into us, ' said Emerson. But our truebeing can be none other than infinite mind's idea of itself. Our trueindividuality must be the way that mind regards us. And thus it wasthat Israel's true being descended, filtering in through the thickmists of error. That true being was the deliverer, _par excellence_, for it was the message of truth that bade men deny themselves, theircarnal selves, and know but the one God, infinite mind. That was thegrace sufficient for them, that would have solved their problems, thatwould have enabled them to lay off the 'old man' and his woes andafflictions, and put on the 'new man, ' divine mind's image. But thecarnal mind sought a material kingdom. It wanted, not spirit, butmatter. It cruelly rejected the message-bearer, and sought to kill hismessage by slaying him on the cross. And thereby the Jewish nationrent itself asunder, and sank into carnal oblivion. Ah, how they havebeen cursed by the crucifixion of Jesus!

"Men ask to-day: Did Jesus really live? Or is he a mythical character, like the gods of pagan Rome? Let us ask, in making our reply, howtruth comes to mankind? Is it not always through some human channel?Then the great sayings attributed to Jesus at least came from a humanbeing. Let us go further: it is the common history of mankind thattruth comes to the human mind only after a period of preparation. Notconscious preparation, necessarily, but, rather, a preparation forcedby events. The truth of a mathematical principle can not come to meunless I am prepared to receive it. And the greatest good comes to menonly after they have learned the nothingness of the material ambitionsand aims which they have been pursuing. By its own rottenness theworld had been made fallow for truth. The awfulness of its ownexposure in its rampant, unlicensed revels, had shown as never beforethe human mind's absolute nothingness--its nothingness as regards realvalue, permanence, and genuine good--in that first century of ourso-called Christian era. And when the nothingness of the carnal mindwas made plain, men saw the reality of the truth, as revealed in theChrist, back of it all. The divine message was whispered to a humanmentality. And that mentality expanded under the God-influence, untilat last it gave to the sin-weary world the Christ-principle ofsalvation. Let us call that human mentality, for convenience, the manJesus. 

"And now, was he born of a virgin? Impossible! And yet--let us see. Itwas common enough in his day for virgins to pretend to be with childby the Holy Ghost; and so we do not criticise those who refuse toaccept the dogma of the virgin birth. But a little reflection in thelight of what we have been discussing throws a wonderful illuminationupon the question. If matter and material modes are real, then we mustat once relegate the stories of the virgin birth, the miracles, theresurrection, and the ascension to the realm of myth. If the so-calledlaws of matter are real, irrefragable laws, then we indulgently, passby these stories as figments of heated imaginations. But, regardingmatter as a human, mortal concept, entirely mental, and wholly subjectto the impress and influence of mind, and knowing, as we do now, that_mental concepts change with changed thought_, we are forced to lookwith more favor upon these questions which for centuries caused men toshed their fellows' blood. 

"Mr. Hitt pointed out in our last meeting that mortal beings areinterpretations in mortal or human mind of the infinite mind, God, andits ideas. The most perfect human interpretation of God's greatestidea, Man, was Christ Jesus. The _real_ selfhood of every one of us isGod's idea of us. It is spiritual, mental. The world calls it the'soul, ' the 'divine essence, ' and the 'immortal spark. ' The Christ wasthe real, spiritual selfhood of the man Jesus. So the Christ is thereal selfhood of each of us. It is not born of the flesh. It is notconceived and brought forth in conformity with human modes. Now wasthis great fact externalized in the immaculate conception and birth?It does not grow and decay and pass away in death. It is the 'unique'Son of God which is back of each one of us. But the world has seen itonly once in its fullness, and then through the man Jesus. 

"Something happened in that first century of the so-called Christianera--something of tremendous significance. What was it? It was thebirth of the Christ-idea into the human consciousness. Was theChrist-idea virgin-born? Aye, that it was, for God, infinite Mind, alone was its origin and parent. The speculation which has turnedabout that wonderful first century event has dealt with the humanchannel through which the Christ-idea flowed to mankind. But let ussee what light our deductions throw even upon that. 

"Referring all things to the realm of the mental, where we nowknow they belong, we see that man never fell, but that Israel's ideaof God and man did fall, woefully. We see that the Christ-principleappeared among men; we see that to-day it works marvels; we mustadmit that throughout the ages before Jesus it had done so; weknow now that the great things which Israel is recorded to havedone were accomplished by the Christ-principle working throughmen, and that when their vision became obscured they lost theknowledge of that principle and how to use it. History records theworking of great deeds by that same Christ-principle when it wasre-born in our first century; and we also can see how the obscuringof the spiritual by the material in the Emperor Constantine's timecaused the loss of the Church's power to do great works. We areforced to admit the omnipotence, immanence, and eternality of theChrist-principle, for it is divine mind, God himself. Moses, Elisha, Elijah, the ancient prophets, all had primitive perceptions of truth, and all became channels for the passing of the Christ-principle tomankind in some degree. But none of these men ever illustrated thatprinciple as did the man Jesus. He is the most marvelous manifestationof God that has ever appeared among mankind; so true and exact wasthe manifestation that he could tell the world that in seeing himthey were actually seeing the Father. It is quite true that manyof his great sayings were not original with him. Great truths havebeen voiced, even by so-called pagans, from earliest times. But hedemonstrated and made practical the truth in these sayings. And heexposed the nothingness of the human mental concept of matter byhealing disease, walking the waves, and in other wonderful ways. Itis true that long before his time Greek philosophers had hit upon thetheory of the nothingness of matter. Plato had said that only ideaswere real. But Jesus--or the one who brought the Christ-message--wasthe clearest mentality, the cleanest human window-pane, to quoteCarmen, that ever existed. Through him the divine mind showed withalmost unobscured fullness. God's existence had been discerned andHis goodness proved from time to time by prophets and patriarchs, butby no means to the extent that Jesus proved it. There were thosebefore him who had asserted that there was but one reality, and thathuman consciousness was not the real self. There were even those whobelieved matter to be created by the force of thought, even as inour own day. _But it remained for Jesus to make those ideasintensely practical, even to the overcoming and dissolution of hiswhole material concept of the universe and man. _ And it remainedfor him to show that the origin of evil is in the lie about God. Itwas his mission to show that the devil was 'a man-killer from thebeginning, ' because it is the supposition that there is power apartfrom God. It was his life purpose to show mankind that there isnothing in this lie to cause fear, and that it can be overcome byovercoming the false thought which produces it. By overcoming thatthought he showed men the evanescent nature of sickness and death. And sin he showed to be a missing of the mark through lack ofunderstanding of what constitutes real good. 

"Turn now again to the Bible, that fascinating record of a wholepeople's search for God and their changing concept of Him. Note that, wherever in its records evil seems to be made real, it is for thepurpose of uncovering and destroying it by the vigorous statements oftruth which you will almost invariably find standing near theexposition of error. So evil seemed very real in the first century ofour era; but it was uncovered by the coming of Jesus. The exposure ofevil revealed the Christ, right at hand. "

"But, " protested Haynerd, "let's get back to the question of thevirgin birth. "

"Very well, " replied Father Waite. "But let us first consider whathuman birth is. "

"Now there!" exclaimed Haynerd. "Now you are touching my lifelongquestion. If I am immortal, where was I before I was born?"

"Of which 'I' are you speaking, Ned?" asked Father Waite. "The real'I' is God's image and likeness, His reflection. It was never born, and never dies. The human 'I' had a beginning. And therefore it willcease to be. The human mind makes its own laws, and calls them laws ofnature, or even God's laws. And it obeys them like a slave. BecauseGod is both Father and Mother to His children, His ideas, the humanmind has decreed in its counterfeiting process that it is itself bothmale and female, and that the union of these two is necessary in orderto give rise to another human mind. Do you see how it imitates thedivine in an apish sort of way? And so elements of each sex-type ofthe human mind are employed in the formation of another, theiroffspring. The process is wholly mental, and is one of human belief, quite apart from the usage of the divine Mind, who 'spake and it wasdone, ' mentally unfolding a spiritual creation. The real 'you, ' Ned, has always existed as God's idea of Himself. It is spiritual, notmaterial. It will come to light as the material 'you' is put off. Thematerial 'you' did not exist before it was humanly born. It wasproduced in supposition by the union of the parent human minds, whichthemselves were reflections of the male and female characteristics ofthe communal mortal mind. It thus had a definite, supposititiousbeginning. It will therefore have a definite end. "

"And so I'm doomed to annihilation, eh? That's a comforting thought!"

"Your mortal sense of existence, Ned, certainly is doomed toextinction. That which is supposition must go out. Oh, it doubtlesswill not all be destroyed when you pass through that change which wecall death. It may linger until you have passed through many suchexperiences. And so it behooves you to set about getting rid of itas soon as possible, and thus avoid the unpleasant experience ofcountless death-throes. You see, Ned, an error in the premise willappear in the conclusion. Now you are starting with the premise thatthe human 'you' is real. That premise is not based upon fact. Itsbasis is rank error. All that you reflect of divine mind willendure permanently, but whatever you reflect of the lie regardingthat mind will pass away. Human beings know nothing of their origin, nor of their existence. Why? _Because there is nothing to knowabout them; they are entirely supposititious!_ Paul says, in hisletter to the Romans: 'They which are the children of the flesh, theseare not the children of God. ' The birth of the children of theflesh is wholly a human-mind process. The infant mentality thusproduced knows nothing whatsoever of itself. It has no knowledge; isnot founded on truth. It will later manifest hereditary beliefs, showing the results of prenatal mesmerism. Then it will receive thegeneral assortment of human thought and opinion--very little of itbased on actual truth--which the world calls education. Then itlearns to regard itself as an individual, a separate being. And soonit attributes its origin to God. But the prenatal error will appearin the result. The being manifests every gradation of human thought;it grows; it suffers and enjoys materially; it bases its veryexistence upon matter; it manifests the false activity of humanthought in material consciousness; and then it externalizes itsbeliefs, the consentaneous human beliefs, upon its body and in itsenvironment; and finally, the activity of the false thought whichconstitutes its consciousness ceases--and the being dies. Yes, itsdeath will be due to sin, to '_hamartio_, ' missing the mark. Itnever knew God. And that, Ned, is human life, so-called. 

"Death is not in any sense a cessation of life. The being who diesnever knew what it was to live. Death is the externalization ofhuman, mortal beliefs, which are not based upon real knowledge, truth. And so, human birth is itself death. Paul said: 'They that are afterthe flesh do mind the things of the flesh; but they that are after thespirit the things of the spirit. ' In other words, mankind are strivingterribly, desperately, to keep alive a sense of material, fleshlyexistence. But they can't do it. They are foredoomed to failure, despite the discovery of antitoxins. In the book of Job we read: 'Thespirit of God hath made me, and the breath of the Almighty hath givenme life. ' Where, then, is the reality in prenatal mesmerism and thedrag of heredity? It is all supposition, all a part of the one lie, the 'man-killer. '

"The change called death comes to all mortals. It is the culminationof the human mind's sense of limitation. It does not usher them intoimmortal, illimitable bliss. It but leaves them upon another seemingplane of mortal thought, there to drag out another sense of existence, unless they have so learned the lesson which Jesus taught as to enablethem to overcome death. It will not be overcome for us. That is ourwork. We have been shown how to do it. Why, then, do we waste our timein trivial things; in the heaping up of useless money; in the vainstrife for sensual pleasures? The mortal will live and die, and liveand die, until at last he is beaten into line and forced todemonstrate the Christ-principle. Hadn't we better begin that righthere and now? Wishing to die doesn't solve our problems. Suicide onlymakes us start again, worse off than before. We shall overcome deathwhen we have overcome sin, for the physical manifestation called deathis but the externalization in conscious experience of spiritualdeath--lack of a demonstrable understanding of Life, Truth, Spirit, which is God, unlimited good. "

"And the Church, Protestant and Catholic, with their ceremonies, theirMasses, and--"

"They have woefully missed the mark, Ned. They are all but spirituallydead. But I see protest rising in our good friends, Doctor Siler andReverend Moore, so I will hasten on, for we have much ground still tocover. 

"Now, knowing that birth is a humanly mental process, is it possiblethat the man Jesus was 'born of a virgin'? Quite so; but, more, _noman ever conceived and born in the way human beings are generated hasever begun to approach Jesus in degree of spirituality_. If he hadbeen born in human ways, is it likely that he would ever havedeveloped such intense spirituality? Well, not in a brief thirty-threeyears or so! And, on the other hand, if he had come into the world insome way other than by being born of a woman, would he have beenunderstandable at all to the human mind? I think not. He would havebeen wholly in the realm of the mental, far above human perception. Ifhe had been conceived by the union of the two sexes, as is themortal-mind mode of generation, would he not have been too material tohave so quickly developed that spirituality which made him the lightof the world at the age of thirty-three? I think it is a fairquestion. The theory of the virgin birth at least seems to meet theneed of a sort of middle course, whereby the man should not be toohuman to be the channel for the great measure of spirituality withwhich he was endowed, and yet should be human enough to be appreciableto other human minds. 

"Remember, the Jesus who has been reported to us must have regardedmatter as unreal, as nothingness. His works plainly show that. Andthey as plainly show that he came from the Father. His whole life wassuch as to render the virgin birth almost a necessity, as I see it. How otherwise can we explain him? And from a study of the Gospels Isimply can not avoid the conclusion that his knowledge of the allnessof God rendered matter such a nonentity to him that he overcame allmaterial laws, overcame the world of matter, and even at the lastdematerialized his material body. It's an astonishing thought--andyet, who can show that it is not true? There are some things thatreason insists on our accepting, despite the paucity of humanrecords. "

"I believe, Mr. Waite, " said Doctor Morton, "that the Gospelsaccording to Mark and John make no mention of the virgin birth. Is itnot so?"

"Quite true, " replied Father Waite. "And I will go further: Biblicalresearch during the past few years seems to have established theconclusion that Mark's Gospel antedates the others, but that prior toit there existed a collection of sayings by Jesus, called the _Logia_. This collection of sayings seems to have been originally written inAramaic, the language Jesus spoke. Now Matthew Arnold tells us thatthe Gospel narratives passed through at least fifty years of oraltradition before they became fixed in the form in which we now havethem. Of course it is quite possible that the story of the virginbirth arose during those fifty years, for we can imagine how the lifeof Jesus was then discussed! Matthew and Luke alone speak of thevirgin birth. Mark's Gospel we believe to have been written by Markhimself. And we believe that Papias, who wrote about the middle of thesecond century, spoke truly when he said: 'Mark having become (orhaving been) Peter's interpreter, wrote all that he remembered (or allthat Peter related) though he did not (record) in order that whichwas said or done by Christ. ' In other words, even as Renan admits, the Gospel of Mark must be taken as authentically his. Now Matthew'sGospel depends for most of its data upon Mark and the Collection ofsayings. Mark's Gospel does not mention the virgin birth; theCollection probably did. Also, Matthew probably did not write theGospel attributed to him; but he almost certainly did write theCollection of sayings, from which in part the present Gospel accordingto Matthew was compiled. Luke's Gospel was undoubtedly written by thephysician Luke, Paul's companion, and depended largely for its dataupon Mark's Gospel and the Collection of Matthew. Yet we can not saythat the omission of mention in the Gospels according to Mark and Johnof the virgin birth renders the story a legend, in view of our ownpresent great knowledge of the constitution of matter, of materiallaws, and of the fact that the virgin birth is at least renderedcredible by the subsequent very extraordinary career of Jesus. Moreover, remember that our New Testament is a small book, and that itis quite probable that a great mass of literature existed on thesubject of Jesus and his work, and that it is possible that other ofthe disciples wrote treatises, perhaps many of them. How many of thesetouched on the subject of the virgin birth we may never know. Perhapsnone; perhaps all. But this conclusion at least we must accept: thevalidity of the story of the virgin birth does _not_ rest with thefour Gospels which have come down to us out of the great mass ofliterature which probably once existed. Rather is the probability ofthe immaculate conception a function of our present knowledge ofmatter, its pseudo-laws, and the great fact that the entire life ofJesus as reported in all the Gospels lends weight to the belief thathis birth was not in the ordinary mortal-mind manner. "

"I accept that, " said Hitt. "I believe you are right. "

"And I, " said Carmen, "can not see that the origin of the humanchannel through which the Christ-principle flowed to mankind is of anyconsequence. The principle has always existed. Jesus said that itexisted before Abraham. It alone is the important thing. "

"Very true, " replied Father Waite. "It has been said that theimmaculate conception was the result of Mary's realization that realman is the son of God. This is a beautiful thought. Certainly Jesusdid seem to manifest some such metaphysical idea. Perhaps Mary was awoman of tremendous force of character. Perhaps it did come to herthat her son should be the Messiah of his race. Jesus certainly didacquire the messianic consciousness--and thereby upheaved the world. But, whatever the human mode of birth, certainly the Christ-principlewas brought into the world because of the world's tremendous need. Itcame as a response. It is only the confusing of the Christ with theman Jesus that is so largely responsible for the weakness of orthodoxtheology. 

"But now, referring again to the Bible, let me say that the Pentateuchis composed of a variety of documents written by various authors. Wehave no positive proof that Moses had aught to do with its authorship, although parts of it may be based on data which either he originatedor sanctioned. The books of Samuel exhibit a plurality of sources. Thebook of Isaiah was written to record the sayings of at least twopersons, both men of marvelous spiritual vision. The Song of Solomonwas originally probably a Persian love-poem. The book of Jobillustrates the human-mind problem of suffering, and the utterinadequacy of philosophy to heal it. It is a ringing protest againstconventional theology. 

"But it is with the New Testament that we are particularly concerned, for we believe it to contain the method of salvation from human ills. None of the original documents are extant, of course. And yet, themost searching textual criticism goes to show that the New Testamentbooks as we have them to-day are genuine reproductions of the originaldocuments, with but very little adulteration of erroneous addition bylater hands. This means much to us. I have already spoken of the firstthree Gospels. The book of Acts certainly was written by the author ofthe third Gospel, Luke. First Peter was composed by the disciplePeter, or was written under his sanction. The Gospel of John and thebook of First John were written by one and the same author--butwhether by the disciple John or not, I can not say. If this greatdisciple did not write the Fourth Gospel, at least his influence seemsto be felt all through it. The probability is that he knew what was init, and approved of it, although the actual composition may have beenby another, possibly a very learned Greek. To me, the Fourth Gospel isthe most masterly work ever composed by man. It stands absolutelyalone. The criticism that John, being a Jew, could not have composedit, falls before the greater truth that, having become a Christian, hewas no longer a Jew. He was a new creature. For how could he have beenother, seeing that he had lived with Jesus?

"And now as to Paul, who contributes about one-third of the NewTestament. I have mentioned the letters to the Thessalonians, Corinthians, Galatians, and Romans as indisputably his. To these wecan add, with scarcely less weight of authenticity, Colossians, Philemon, Ephesians, and Philippians. As to the Epistles to Timothyand Titus, there is still doubt. These letters were written to thevarious Churches chronologically, as I have mentioned them. It hasbeen said that Jesus was way over the heads of his reporters. Thatwas inevitable. Even Paul misunderstood him at times. But--andhere is the important fact for us--Paul's letters exhibit amarvelous spiritual growth in the man, and show him at last to be thegrand master-metaphysician of the Christian era. Has it everoccurred to you that what the Gospels tell about is almost whollyspiritual? The material is all but neglected by their composers. Indeed, with the questions of time and place, the Gospel narratorsseemed to have been but slightly concerned. But with the delineationof the Christ--ah! that was their theme. They were not writing abiography. They were painting a spiritual portrait. In the light ofthis great truth the apparent lack of harmony in the Gospelnarratives loses significance. And how little there is in theGospels of theology, of institution, of organization! How trifling arecreed and doctrine, how little are Catholicism and Protestantism, compared with the stupendous fact that God is, and that His truth, the Christ-principle, is still here to-day and available!

"And so with Paul, he was expounding the 'method and secret' of theChrist. And he first had to work up to it himself. He may havethought, when he wrote his first letter to the Thessalonians, that theman Jesus would come again in the skies, with great pomp andsurrounded by the Saints. But in his second letter he states plainlythat the Christ will come when the 'old man' is laid off. Not muchoccasion for misunderstanding there, I think. Indeed, after Jesus soclearly stated that the kingdom of heaven was within men, the marvelis that there could have arisen any confusion whatsoever on thesubject of the second coming of the Christ. "

"I believe, " interposed Reverend Moore, "that the Epistle to theHebrews contains statements of belief in a judgment after death, in aheaven, a hell, and everlasting life, not wholly consistent with yourremarks. "

"The Epistle to the Hebrews, " returned Father Waite, "was not writtenby Paul, nor is it quite consistent with his letters. But, read Paul'swonderful eighth chapter of Romans. Read his third chapter of FirstCorinthians. Read all his letters in the order in which I havementioned them, which was as they were written, and you can not failto grasp his marvelous expanding perception of the Christ-principle;the nothingness of the material concept; the impotence of the lie thatopposes God, and constitutes all evil; and the necessity ofright-thinking if one would work out his salvation from the errorsthat assail mankind. Paul shows that he passed through a 'beliefperiod, ' and that he emerged into the light of demonstrableunderstanding at last. If men had followed him they never could havefallen into the absurd theological beliefs of foreordination, infantdamnation, the resurrection of the flesh, and all the othertheological horrors and atrocities of the centuries. 

"Yes, the Bible is, as Arnold said, based on propositions which allcan verify. The trouble is, _mankind have not tried to verify them_!They have relegated all that to the life beyond the grave. I fear asorry disappointment awaits them, for, even as Paul says, they will beafter the change called death only what they were before. It is likerecovering from a case of sickness, for sickness and death are alikemanifestations of mortal thought. We awake from each still human, still with our problems before us. We must break the mesmerism of thebelief that the practical application of Jesus' teachings must berelegated to the realm of death, or to the unattainable. We must applythe Christ-principle, and learn to hit the mark, for sin is alwaysweakness, never strength. 

"And remember this: having acquired a knowledge of the Christ, we arebidden to acknowledge him--that is, to _act-our-knowledge_. Many ofthe world's philosophers have worked out great truths. But they haverested content with that. Many scientists, knowing that matter isunreal, nevertheless conduct themselves _as if it constituted the oneand only real fact of existence_! Is error like truth? Decidedly no!It is truth's exact opposite. Is truth real? Certainly it is! Then itsopposite _can not_ be real. The human mentality holds the belief thatthere is something apart from God, spirit. That belief becomesobjectified in the human mentality as matter. And within matter iscontained all evil of every sort and name. Evil is not, as thephilosophers would have us believe, a lower form of good. It is not'good in the making. ' It is always error, the direct opposite oftruth. And if truth is real and eternal, error can not be. See thegrave mistake in which Emerson became enmeshed. He said: 'There seemsto be a necessity in spirit to manifest itself in material forms. ' Nowfollow that out to its logical conclusion. If spirit is synonymouswith God, then God manifests Himself in both good and evil, fair andfoul, life and death--and which is good, and which bad? All is alikethe reflection of God. No, my friends, rather accept Jesus' statementthat evil is the lie, of which no man need be afraid, and which allmust and shall overcome. And the 'old man, ' with all his materialconcepts of nature and the universe, must and will be laid off, thusrevealing the spiritual man, the image and likeness of the one divineMind. 

"Now, just a few words about miracles, the great stumbling block tothe acceptance of the Gospels. Are they, together with the entireGospel narrative, legendary? If so, they must have arisen duringthose fifty years between Jesus and the recording of the narratives. But this very period is covered by Paul's letters, which record histhought. And even the most relentless of Bible critics admit thegenuineness of Paul's authorship of the Epistles to the Romans, the Corinthians, the Thessalonians, and the Galatians. If theGospel narratives are legends, they grew up and found acceptance infifty years. A pretty fair miracle in itself, when we take intoconsideration the inherent incredulity of the human mind! As DeanFarrar says: 'Who would have _invented_, who would have merely_imagined_, things so unlike the thoughts of man as these?'

"Now Paul must have been acquainted with men who had seen and knownJesus. And we are forced to admit that Paul was a very strong, saneman. These legends could not have grown up in his day and beenaccepted by him. And as long as there were men living who had knownJesus--and that must have been as late as the last quarter of thefirst century--the true events of Jesus' life could hardly have givenway to a set of childish legends. As a matter of recorded fact, thevarious Christian Churches had accepted Jesus within thirty years ofthe crucifixion. And, too, the words of Paul and the Synoptists werewritten at a time when the sick were still being healed and even thedead raised by the practical application of Jesus' teachings. Hence, miracles did not astonish them. 

"Our own inability to perform the works attributed to Jesus is hardlysufficient ground for denying the belief that he really did them. Forwhat is a miracle? Certainly that the greater portion of the NewTestament was written by a few fishermen, a publican, and a tentmakeris one of the most stupendous miracles on record! And the miracle ofmiracles is Jesus Christ himself! Because Jesus is reported to havehealed the sick, raised the dead, and walked the waves, all inopposition to material laws--the so-called laws of nature--the worldsays the reports are fantastic, that they are fables, and that hisreporters were hypnotized, deluded! And yet I tell you that he did notbreak a single law! He did act in defiance of the so-called testimonyof the physical senses, which has always been accepted by mankind aslaw. We now know what that sense-testimony is--human, mortal thought. He did rise above human consciousness of evil. And because he did so, he instantaneously healed the sick. A miracle expresses, not thebeliefs of the human mind, but the law of God, infinite mind, andmakes that law conceivable to the human mentality. God's laws are_never_ set aside, for by very definition a law is immutable, else itceases to be law. But when the human mind grows out of itselfsufficiently to perceive those laws and to express them to itsfellow-minds, the result is called a miracle. Moreover, the ability toperform miracles is but a function of spirituality. A miracle is asign of one's having advanced to such a degree of spirituality as toenable him to rise above material consciousness and its limitations, which are called laws. The consciousness that knows no evil willperform miracles. The early Christians did great works. These workswere the 'signs following, ' and attested their knowledge of theallness of God. A miracle is simply a proof of God. Carmen--"

"Lewis!" protested the girl. 

"Let me say it, please. Carmen _knew_ that no power opposed to Godcould hold Sidney. And the 'sign' followed. Yes, she performed amiracle. She broke a human-mind, so-called law, a limitation. Sheproved God's law of harmony and holiness--wholeness--to be omnipresentand omnipotent. And, mark me, friends, _every one of us must learn todo likewise_! Not only must the Church obey Jesus and do the workswhich he did, but every individual will have to do them himself. "

"His works were done for a special reason, Mr. Waite, " interposedReverend Moore. "They were to testify to his messiahship. They are notrequired of us. "

Father Waite silently regarded the minister for some moments. Then hewent on gently:

"It seems incredible that the plain teachings of Jesus could havebeen so warped and twisted as they have been by orthodox theology. Christianity is _so_ simple! Why should even the preachers themselvescondemn the one who seeks to obey Christ? Mr. Moore, the real manis God's highest idea of Himself. The human mind makes mental conceptsof God's man. And Jesus was the grandest concept of God's idea ofHimself that the human mind has ever constructed by means of itsinterpretations. He was the image of truth. One of his grandestcharacteristics was his implicit obedience to his vision of theFather. And he demanded just as implicit obedience from us. But hebade us, again and again, _heal the sick and raise the dead_!"

"We heal the sick! We have our physicians!"

"Yes? And Asa had his physicians to whom he turned--with the resultthat he 'slept with his fathers. ' There is no more ironical statementin the whole Bible than that. We turn to our physicians because wehave no faith in God. _Materia medica_ physicians do _not_ heal thesick. They sometimes succeed in causing the human mind temporarily tosubstitute a belief of health for a belief of disease that is all. But Jesus and the early Christians healed by true prayer--the prayerof affirmation, the prayer that denied reality to evil, and affirmedthe omnipotence of God. And that was done through an understanding ofGod as immutable law, or principle. "

"Would you pray to a principle?" demanded Reverend Moore, with a noteof contempt in his voice. "I prefer my own concept of God, as one whohears our petitions, and pities us, and not as a lifeless principle!"

"God is principle, Mr. Moore, " replied Father Waite, "in that He is'_that by which all is_. ' And in order to be such He must be, as theBible says, 'the same yesterday, to-day, and forever. ' He must beimmovable, regardless of human pleading and petition. And so trueprayer, the prayer that draws an answer, is not an objective appeal toHim, but is an intelligent application of the Christ-principle to allour problems and needs. Such prayer will remove mountains inproportion to the understanding and motive back of it. And such prayerdoes not seek to inform the Almighty of the state of affairs hereamong men, informing Him that evil is real and rampant, and beggingthat He will stoop down and remove it. It is the prayer that manifestsman's oneness with the infinite mind as its image, reflecting aknowledge of the allness of good and the consequent unreality andpowerlessness of evil, the lie about it. It was healing by suchprayer, Mr. Moore, that the Episcopal Synod rejected only recently. Instead of doing the healing themselves by means of the principlegiven them, they still plead with God, the immovable and immutable, todo it for them, provided the very uncertain science of _materiamedica_ fails. 

"The true method of prayer was employed by the early Christians, untilthe splendid vision of the Christ became obscured and finally lost tothe Church by its bargaining with Constantine for a mess of pottage, namely, temporal power. Then began to rise that great worldlyinstitution, the so-called Holy Church. In the first half of the sixthcentury Justinian closed the schools of philosophy at Athens. For awhile Judaizing Christianity continued its conflict with Gnosticism. And then both merged themselves into the Catholic form of faith, whichissued forth from Rome, with Christian tradition grafted uponpaganism. Theology and ritualism divided the gospel of healing thesick and saving the sinner into two radically different systems, neither of which is Christian, and neither of which can either heal orsave. Since then, lip-service and ceremonial have taken the place ofhealing the sick and raising the dead. The world again slipped backsteadily from the spiritual to the material, and to-day ethicsconstitutes our religion, and stupid drugs hold sway where once satenthroned the healing Christ-principle. "

"I would remind you, Mr. Waite, that I have Catholic leanings myself, "said Doctor Siler. "I don't like to hear either my religion or myprofession abused. "

"My criticism, Doctor, " replied Father Waite, "is but an exposure ofthe entrenched beliefs and modes of the human mind. "

"But, sir, the Church is a great social force, and a presentnecessity. "

"The worth of a belief as a social force, Doctor, must be ascertainedfrom its fruits. The Roman Church has been an age-long instigator ofwars, disorders, and atrocious persecutions throughout the world. Itsassumption that its creed is the only religious truth is an insult tothe world's expanding intelligence. Its arrogant claim to speak withthe authority of God is one of the anomalies of this century ofenlightenment. Its mesmeric influence upon the poor and ignorant is acontinuous tragedy. "

"The poor and ignorant! Are you unmindful of the Church's schools andhospitals?"

"No, Doctor. Nor am I ignorant of the fact that the success ofChristianity is _not_ measured by hospitals. Rather, their continuanceattests the lamentable failure of its orthodox misinterpretation. Ihave been a priest, Doctor. I do not want to see this splendid countryforced into the iron shackles of priestcraft. "

"It can not happen here!" cried Haynerd, pounding the table with hisfist. "The time has passed when a man can say, 'My church, be sheright or wrong, but my church!' and insist that it shall be forcedupon us, whether we like it or not!"

"Doctor, " continued Father Waite, "the Romanist has always missed themark. He prayed to a God of love to give him power to exterminateheretics--those who differed with him in belief. But he prayed withiniquity, hatred, murder in his heart; and God, who is too pure toknow evil, heard him not. Prayer is the affirmation of omnipotent_good_. Is it good to murder one's fellow-men? The Psalmist wrote: 'IfI regard iniquity in my heart the Lord will not hear me. ' That is whythe Church's prayers and curses have failed, and why she herself is afailing institution to-day. I say this in pity, not in malice. "

"I, sir, believe in a religion that can hate, " returned the doctor. "Christianity is as much a religion of hate as of love--hatred of allthat is evil and opposed to the revealed Word of God. "

"And thereby your religion will fail, and has failed, for God is love. You, by your hatred of what you consider evil, make evil real. Indeed, the Church has always emphasized evil as a great and living reality. How could it ever hope to overcome it then? Your Church, Doctor, haslittle of the meekness of the Christ, and so, little of his strength. It has little of his spirituality. Its numbers and great materialwealth do not constitute power. Its assumptions remind me of theancient Jews, who declared that God spent much of His time readingtheir Talmud. You will have to lay aside, Doctor, all of it, and turnto the simple, demonstrable teachings of Jesus. When you have learnedto do the works he did, then will you have justified yourself and yourfaith. "

While Father Waite was speaking, Carmen had quietly risen and takenher place at the piano. When he concluded, she began to play and singsoftly. As the sweet melody flowed out through the room the littlegroup became silent and thoughtful. Again it was that same weirdlament which the girl had sung long before in the Elwin school tovoice the emotions which surged up in her during her loneliness in thegreat city. In it her auditors heard again that night the echoingsighs of the passive Indians, enslaved by the Christian Spaniards. Hitt's head sank upon his breast as he listened. Haynerd tried tospeak, but choked. The Beaubien buried her face in her hands and weptsoftly. The lines about Doctor Siler's mouth relaxed, and his lipstrembled. He rose quietly and went around to where Father Waite sat. 

"My friend--" He bent and took Father Waite's hand. "We are--friends?"

Father Waite sprang to his feet and threw an arm about the doctor. "Weare more than that, Doctor, " he whispered. "We are brothers. And inreality we are both, here and now, beloved children of God. "

Doctor Siler bowed. Then he nodded to the others, and took hisdeparture. As he passed the piano Carmen rose and seized his hand. 

"You know, Doctor, that we love you, don't you?"

"Your love, " he murmured, as he bent over her hand, "is from theChrist. Nay, it _is_ the Christ himself among us!"

He would have said more, but his voice broke. Then he went out. 

When Hitt, Reverend Moore, and Doctor Morton had left, Haynerd, whohad remained for a moment to speak to Father Waite, turned to theBeaubien. 

"Madam, " he said, "Mr. Hitt is a remarkable man. He is conducting aremarkable newspaper. But--" He stopped and looked at Carmen. "Well, if I mistake not, his quietness this evening indicated his belief thatthis might be our last meeting for some time. "

"Why, Ned?"

Haynerd shook his head dubiously. Then, abruptly:

"Telephone me, Carmen, if anything of interest comes up to-morrow inAvon. "

The Beaubien turned quickly to the girl. "You are going to Avonto-morrow? Don't! Please don't!" There was a look of fear in hereyes. 

Carmen drew the woman to her, then stooped and kissed her cheek. "Mother dearest, I go to Avon with my God. "

The Beaubien bowed her head. She knew it was so. 

And the girl went early the next morning. 

CHAPTER 11

The town of Avon, two hours from New York, lay along Avon creek, fromwhich its first manufacturing industries derived their motive power. Years before, when it was little more than a barren stretch of sand, some enterprising soul had built a cotton mill there, with only a fewprimitive looms. As the years passed, and kindly Congresses rearedabout the industry a high protective wall, the business prosperedmarvelously. But shortly after the death of the senior Ames thecompany became involved, through mismanagement, with the result that, to protect itself, the house of Ames and Company, the largestcreditor, was obliged to take over its mills. 

At first, J. Wilton Ames was disposed to sell the assets of thedefunct company, despite the loss to his bank. But then, after a visitof inspection, and hours of meditation on certain ideas which hadoccurred to him, he decided to keep the property. The banging of thelooms, the whirr of the pickers, the sharp little shrieks of thespinning machines, fascinated him, as he stood before them. Theyseemed to typify the ceaseless throbbing of his own great brain. Theyseemed, too, to afford another outlet for that mighty flood ofmaterialistic thought and energy which flowed incessantly through it. 

And so he set about reorganizing the business. He studied the processof cloth manufacture. He studied the growth and handling of cotton. Hefamiliarized himself with every detail of the cotton market. He wasalready well versed in the intricacies of the tariff. And soon theidle machinery was roaring again. Soon the capacity of the mills wasdoubled. And soon, very soon, the great Ames mills at Avon had becomea corporate part of our stupendous mechanical development of thecentury just closed. 

When Carmen stepped from the train that morning she stood for a momentlooking uncertainly about her. Everywhere on one side as far as shecould see were low, ramshackle frame houses; a few brick storebuildings stood far up the main street; and over at her right theenormous brick mills loomed high above the frozen stream. The dullroar of the machinery drifted through the cold air to her ears. Up thetrack, along which she had just come, some ragged, illy clad childrenwere picking up bits of coal. The sight seemed to fix her decision. She went directly to them, and asked their names. 

"Anton Spivak, " answered one of the children dully, when she laid ahand on his shoulder. 

"And where do you live?"

"Over dere, " pointing off to the jungle of decrepit sheds. "Me an'him, we worked in de mills; but dere ain't no work fer us now. Dey'son half time. "

"Take me to your home, " she said firmly. 

The boy looked his astonishment. "Dere ain't nobody to home, " hereplied. "De ol' man an' woman works in de mills daytimes. "

"Come-a home wi' me, " spoke up the boy's companion, a bright-facedlittle urchin of some ten years who had given his name as Tony Tolesi. "We lives in de tenements. "

Carmen looked at him for a moment. "Come, " she said. 

Up the main street of the town they went for a short distance, thenturned and wended their course, through narrow streets and byways, down toward the mills. In a few minutes they were in the districtwhere stood the great frame structures built by the Ames company tohouse its hands. Block after block of these they passed, massive, horrible, decrepit things, and at last stopped at a grease-stained, broken door, which the little fellow pushed open. The hall beyond wasdark and cold. Carmen followed shivering, close after the boy, whilehe trotted along, proud of the responsibility of conducting a visitorto his home. At the far end of the hall the lad plunged into a narrowstaircase, so narrow that a stout man could not have mounted it. Upfour of these broken flights Carmen toiled after him, and then down along, desolate corridor, which sent a chill into the very marrow ofher bones. 

"Dis is where we lives, Missy, " announced the little fellow. "Miss-aMarcus, she live in dere, " pointing to the door directly opposite. "She ain't got only one arm. "

He pushed open the door before which they had halted. A rush of foulair and odors of cooking swept out. They enveloped the girl and seemedto hurl her back. A black-haired woman, holding a crying baby in herarms, rose hastily from an unmade bed at one side of the room. Twolittle girls, six or eight years of age, and a boy still younger, ranged about their mother and stared in wide-eyed wonder. 

"Dis-a lady, she come to visit, " announced Carmen's guide abruptly, pointing a dirty finger at her. 

The woman's face darkened, and she spoke harshly in a foreign tongueto the little fellow. 

"She say, " the boy interpreted, as a crestfallen look spread over hisface, "she say she don't spik _Inglese_. "

"But I speak your language, " said the girl, going quickly to her andextending a hand. Then, in that soft tongue which is music celestialto these Neapolitan strangers upon our inhospitable shores, she added, "I want to know you; I want to talk to you. "

She glanced quickly about the room. A littered, greasy cook stovestood in one corner. Close to it at either end were wooden couches, upon which were strewn a few tattered spreads and blankets, stainedand grimy. A broken table, a decrepit chest of drawers, and a fewrickety chairs completed the complement of furniture. The walls wereunadorned, except for a stained chromo of the Virgin, and the plasterhad fallen away in many places. There was only one window in the room. Several of its panes were broken and stuffed with rags and papers. 

At the sound of her own language the woman's expression changed. Alight came into her dull eyes, and she awkwardly took the profferedhand. 

"You are--from Italy?" she said in her native tongue. Then, sweepingthe girl's warm attire with a quick glance, "You are rich! Why do youcome here?"

"Your little boy brought me. And I am glad he did. No, I am not fromItaly. I am rich, yes, but not in money. "

The woman turned to her children and sent the little brood scattering. At another sharp command little Tony set out a soiled, broken chairfor Carmen. But before the girl could take it the woman's voice againrose sharply. 

"Wait!" she commanded, turning fiercely upon Carmen. "You are--what doyou say? slumming. You come with your gay party to look us over and goaway laughing! No! You can not stay!"

Carmen did not smile. But reaching out, she gently lifted the heavybaby from the woman's arms and sat down with it. For a moment shepatted its cheeks and bent tenderly over it. Then she looked up at thebewildered mother. 

"I have come here, " she said softly, "because I love you. "

The woman's lips parted in astonishment. She turned dully and sat downon one of the begrimed beds. Her little ones gathered about her, theirsoiled fingers in their mouths, or clutching their tattered gowns, asthey gazed at the beautiful creature who had suddenly come into theirmidst. 

Then the woman found her voice again. "Eh! You are from the mission?You come to talk of heaven? But I am busy. "

"I am not from the mission, " replied the girl gently. "I have come totalk, not of heaven, but of earth, and of you, and of Tony, " smilingdown into the eager face of the little boy as he stood before her. 

"You can't have Tony!" cried the mother, starting up. "You can't takeany of my children! The judge took Pietro Corrello's boy lastweek--but you can't have mine! Go away from here!"

"I don't want your children, " said Carmen, smiling up at thefrightened, suspicious mother. "I want you. I want you to help me tohelp all of these people here who need us. The mills are running onlyhalf time, aren't they? The people do not have enough to eat. But we, you and I, are going to make things better for them, for everybodyhere, aren't we?

"But first, " she went on hastily, to further allay the poor woman'sfears and to check additional protest, "suppose we plan our dinner. Let's see, Tony, what would you like?"

The boy's lips instantly parted. His eyes began to glisten. He glancedinquiringly at his mother; but no sign came from her. Then he could nolonger contain himself:

"Spaghetti!" he blurted. "Soup! Buns!"

Carmen drew out her purse and turned to the woman. "Come with me, " shesaid. "While we are gone, Tony and the children will wash the dishesand set the table. Come. "

For a moment the woman looked uncomprehendingly at the girl, then ather children, and then about the miserable room in which they werehuddled. Amazement and confusion sat upon her heavy features. Thenthese gave way to another dark look of suspicion. She opened hermouth--

But before she could voice her resentment, Carmen rose and threw anarm about her. Then the girl quickly drew the startled woman to herand kissed her on the cheek. "Come, " she whispered, "get your shawl. We'll be back soon. "

God's universal language is the language of love. All nations, alltribes understand it. The flood-gates, long barred, swiftly opened, and the tired, miserable woman sank sobbing upon the bed. She couldnot comprehend what it was that had come so unannounced into herdreary existence that cold winter morning. People were not wont totreat her so. Her life had been an endless, meaningless struggleagainst misery, want, grinding oppression. People did not put theirarms around her and kiss her thus. They scoffed at her, they abusedher, they fought with her! She hated them, and the world in which shelived!

"I know, I know, " whispered Carmen, as she drew the sobbing woman'shead upon her shoulder. "But things will be better now. Love has foundyou. "

The woman suddenly raised up. "You--you are--from heaven? An angel?"She drew back, and a frightened, superstitious look came into herface. 

"Yes, " said Carmen softly, taking the cue, "I am an angel, right fromheaven. Now you are no longer afraid of me, are you? Come. "

The woman rose mechanically and took up her thin shawl. Carmen gave afew directions to the gaping children. And as she went out into thebleak hall with the woman she heard one of them whisper in tones ofawe:

"Tony, she said she--she was--an angel! Quick! Get down on your kneesand cross yourself!"

 * * * * *

Upward to the blue vault of heaven, like the streaming mists thatrise through the tropic moonlight from the hot _llanos_, goes theceaseless cry of humanity. Oh, if the god of the preachers were real, his heart must have long since broken! Upward it streams, thissoul-piercing cry; up from the sodden, dull-brained toiler at thecrashing loom; up from the wretched outcast woman, selling herselfto low passions to escape the slavery of human exploitation; up fromthe muttering, ill-fed wreck, whose life has been cashed intodividends, whose dry, worthless hulk now totters to the scrap heap;up from the white-haired, flat-chested mother, whose stunted babeslie under little mounds with rude, wooden crosses in the drearytextile burial grounds; up from the weak, the wicked, the ignorant, the hopeless martyrs of the satanic social system that makespossible the activities of such human vultures as the colossuswhose great mills now hurled their defiant roar at this girl, thisgirl whose life-motif was love. 

Close about her, at the wretched little table, sat the wondering groupof children, greedily gorging themselves on the only full meal thatthey could remember. And with them sat the still bewildered mother, straining her dark eyes at the girl, and striving to see in her ahuman being, a woman like herself. At her right sat the widow Marcus, who lived just across the hall. Her husband had been crushed to deathin one of the pickers two years before. The company had paid her ahundred dollars, but had kept back five for alleged legal fees. Sheherself had lost an arm in one of these same pickers, long ago, because the great owner of the mills would not equip his plant withsafety devices. 

"Come, Tony!" said the mother at length, as a sense of the reality oflife suddenly returned to her. "The lunch for your father!"

Tony hurriedly swept the contents of his plate into his mouth, andwent for the battered dinner pail. 

"My man goes to work at six-thirty in the morning, " she explained toCarmen, when the little fellow had started to the mills with the pailunwontedly full. "And he does not leave until five-thirty. He was aweaver, and he earned sometimes ten dollars a week. But he didn'tlast. He wore out. And so he had to take a job as carder. He earnsabout eight dollars a week now. But sometimes only six or seven. "

"But you can't live on that, with your children!" exclaimed Carmen. 

"Yes, we could, " replied the woman, "if the work was steady. But itisn't. You see, if I could work steady, and the children too, we couldlive. I am a good spinner. And I am not nearly so worn out as he is. Ihave several years left in me yet. "

The widow Marcus, who spoke the language from an association withItalian immigrants since childhood, added her comments from time totime. She was a gray-haired, kindly soul, bearing no enmity toward theman to whom she had yielded her husband's life and her own. 

"A man's no good in the mills after he's fifty, " she said. "You see, Miss, it's all piece-work, and a man has to be most terribly spry andactive. The strain is something awful, day after day, in the noise andbad air, and having to keep your eyes fixed on your work for ten hoursat a stretch; and he wears out fast. Then he has to take a job wherehe can't make so much. And when he's about fifty he's no good for themills any more. "

"And then what?" asked Carmen. 

"Well, if he hasn't any children, he goes to the poor-house. But, ifhe has, then they take care of him. "

"Then mill workers must have large families?"

"Yes, they've got to, Miss. The little ones must work in the mills, too. These mills here take them on when they are only twelve, or evenyounger. Tony has worked there, and he is only ten. It's against thelaw; but Mr. Ames gets around the law some way. "

"Tell me, Mrs. Marcus, how do you live?" the girl asked. 

"I? Oh, I manage. The company paid me some money two years ago, and Ihaven't spent all of it yet. Besides, I work round a bit. I'm prettyspry with one arm. "

"But--you do not pay rent for your home?"

"Oh, yes. I have only one room. It's small. There's no window in it. It's an inside room. "

"And you pay rent--to Mr. Ames--the man whose machines killed yourhusband and took off your arm--you still pay rent to him, for onelittle room?"

"Yes, Miss. He owns these tenements. Why, his company gave me almost ahundred dollars, you know! I was lucky, for when Lizzie Sidel's manlost his hand in the cog wheels he went to law to sue the company, andthree years afterward the case was thrown out of court and he had topay the costs himself. But he was a picker-boss, and got nine dollarsa week. "

A little hand stole up along Carmen's arm. She looked down into thewondering face of the child. "I--I just wanted to see, _Signorina_, ifyou were real. "

"I have been wondering that myself, dear, " replied the girl, as herthought dwelt upon what she had been hearing. 

"I must go now, Miss, " said the widow Marcus, rising. "I promised todrop in and look after Katie Hoolan's children this afternoon. She'sup at the mills. "

"Then I will go with you, " Carmen announced. "But I will come backhere, " she added, as some little hands seized hers. "If not to-day, then soon--perhaps to-morrow. "

She crossed the cold hall with Mrs. Marcus, and entered the doorwaywhich led to the little inner room where dwelt the widow. There were adozen such rooms in the building, the latter informed her. This one inparticular had been shunned for many years, for it had a badreputation as a breeder of tuberculosis. But the rent was low, and sothe widow had taken it after her man was killed. It contained a brokenstove, a dirty bed, and a couple of unsteady chairs. The odor wasfetid. The walls were damp, and the paper which had once covered themwas molding and rotting off. 

"It won't stay on, " the widow explained, as she saw the girl lookingat it. "The walls are wet all the time. Comes up from the cellar. Thecreek overflows and runs into the basement. They call this the'death-room. '"

Death! Carmen shuddered when she looked about this fearful humanhabitation. Yet, "The only death to be feared, " said Paracelsus, "isunconsciousness of God. " Was this impoverished woman, then, any lesstruly alive than the rich owner of the mills which had robbed her ofthe means of existence? And can a civilization be alive to the Christwhen it breeds these antipodal types?

"And yet, who permits them?" Haynerd had once exclaimed. "Ames'smethods are the epitome of hell! But he is ours, and the worthyoffspring of our ghastly, inhuman social system. We alone are toblame that he debauches courts, that he blinds executives, and that hebuys legislatures! We let him make the laws, and fatten upon theprey he takes within their limits. Aye, he is the crafty, vicious, gold-imbruted manifestation of a whole nation's greed!" Nay, more, heis the externalization of a people's ignorance of God. 

Carmen's throat filled as she watched the old woman bustling about thewretched room and making a feeble attempt at order. 

"You see, " the widow went on, happy in the possession of an auditor, "there is no use making apologies for the looks of my room; I couldn'tmake it look much better if I tried. There's no running water. We haveto get water from the hydrant down back of the house. It is pumpedthere from the creek, and it's a long climb up these stairs whenyou've got only one arm to hold the bucket. And I have to bring mycoal up, too. The coal dealer charges extra for bringing it up sofar. "

Carmen sat down on an empty box and watched her. The woman's lotseemed to have touched the depths of human wretchedness, and yet thereburned within her soul a something that the oppression of humanavarice could not extinguish. 

"It's the children, Miss, that I think about, " she continued. "It'snot so bad as when I was a little one and worked in the cloth mills inEngland. I was only six when I went into the mills there. I workedfrom seven in the morning until after six at night. And the air was sobad and we got so tired that we children used to fall asleep, and theboss used to carry a stick to whip us to keep us awake. My parentsdied when I was only eight. They worked in the Hollow-ware works, anddied of lead poisoning. People only last four or five years at thatwork. "

Carmen rose. "How many children are employed in these mills here?" sheasked. 

"I can't say, Miss. But hundreds of them. "

"I want to see them, " said the girl, and there was a hitch in hervoice as she spoke. 

"You can go down and watch them come out about six this evening. It'sa sight to a stranger. But now I must hurry to look after the Hoolanbabes. "

When she again reached the street Carmen turned and looked up at thehideous structure from which she had emerged; then she drew a longbreath. The foul air of the "death-room" seemed to fill her lungs aswith leaden weights. The dim light that lay over the wretched hovelhung like a veil before her eyes. 

"Katie lives a block down the street, " said the widow, pointing in thedirection. "She was burned out last winter. These tenements don't havefire-escapes, and the one she lived in burned to the ground in anhour. She lived on the second floor, and got out. But--six were burnedto death. "

It seemed to Carmen as she listened to the woman that the carnalmind's chamber of horrors was externalized there in the little town ofAvon, existing with the dull consent of a people too ignorant, tooimbruted, too mesmerized by the false values of life to rise anddestroy it. 

All that cold winter afternoon the girl went from door to door. Therewas no thought of fear when she met dull welcomes, scowls, andmenacing glances. In humble homes and wretched hovels; to Magyar, Pole, Italian alike; to French Canadian, Irish and Portuguese; and tothe angry, the defiant, the sodden, the crushed, she unfolded hersimple banner of love, the boundless love that discriminates not, thelove that sees not things, but the thoughts and intents of the heartthat lie behind them. And dark looks faded, and tears came; witheredhearts opened, and lifeless souls stirred anew. She knew theirlanguages; and that knowledge unlocked their mental portals to her. She knew their thoughts, and the blight under which they molded; andthat knowledge fell like the sun's bright rays upon them. She knewGod, their God and hers; and that knowledge began, even on that dull, gray afternoon, to cut into the chains of human rapacity whichenslaved them. 

At six that evening she stood at the tall iron gate of the mill yard. Little Tony was at her side, clutching her hand. A single electriclamp across the street threw a flickering, yellow light upon the snow. The great, roaring mills were ablaze with thousands of glitteringeyes. Suddenly their monster sirens shrieked, a blood-curdling yell. Then their huge mouths opened, and a human flood belched forth. 

Carmen gazed with riveted sight. They were not the image and likenessof God, these creatures, despite the doctrinal platitudes of theReverend Darius Borwell and the placid Doctor Jurges. They were notalive, these stooping, shuffling things, despite the fact that thereligiously contented Patterson Moore would argue that God hadbreathed the spirit of life into the thing of dust which He created. And these children, drifting past in a great, surging throng! Fathersand mothers of a generation to come! Carmen knew that many of them, despite their worn looks, were scarcely more than ten years old. Thesewere the flesh and blood upon which Ames, the jungle-beast, waxedgross! Upon their thin life-currents floated the magnificent_Cossack_!

She turned away in silence. Yes, she was right, evil can _not_ bereally known. There is no principle by which to explain the hideousthings of the human mind. And then she wondered what the ReverendDarius Borwell did to earn that comfortable salary of ten thousand ayear in his rich New York church. 

"It's quite a sight, ain't it, Miss?" said a voice close by. 

Carmen turned and confronted a priest. He was a man of medium height, young, and of Irish descent. 

"It's a great sight, " he continued, with a touch of brogue in histones. "Hey, Fagin!" he cried, catching a passing workman's arm. "Where's Ross?"

"He ain't worked to-day, Father, " replied the man, stopping andtouching his cap. 

The young priest uttered an exclamation of displeasure. Then, as theworkman started away:

"You'll be at the Hall to-night, Fagin? And bring everybody you can. "

The man addressed nodded and gave an affirmative grunt, then passed oninto the darkness. 

"It's trying to reach a few of 'em I am, " remarked the priest. "Butit's slow work. When a man's stomach's empty he hasn't much respectfor morality. And I can't feed the lot of 'em!"

Carmen gazed into the kindly blue eyes of the priest and wondered. "How are you reaching them?" she asked. "I am very much interested. "

The priest returned the girl's searching look. "In settlement work?"he queried. 

"No--but I am interested in my fellow-beings. "

"Ah, then you'll understand. I've some rooms, some on Main street, which I call the Hall, and some down in the--well, the bad district, which I call the Mission. They're reading rooms, places for men to meet, and get acquainted, and rest, and talk. The Hall's for the fellowswho work, like this Fagin. The Mission's for the down-and-outs. "

"But--are your rooms only for--for men of your faith?"

"Nary a bit!" exclaimed the priest with a little laugh. "Race orreligion don't figure. It's to give help to every man that needs it. "

"And you are giving your life to help these people?" the girl went on. "I want to see your Hall and Mission. Take me to them, " she abruptlydemanded. 

The priest gave a start of surprise. He looked down at little Tony, and then up at Carmen again. 

"Come, " she said. "We will leave the boy at his door, and then go toyour Mission and Hall. Now tell me, you are a Roman Catholic priest?"

"Yes, " he said mechanically, following her as she started away. 

"How did you happen to get into this sort of work?" she pursued. 

"Oh, I've been at it these ten years!" he returned, now recovered fromhis surprise, and pleased to talk about his work. "I'd had someexperience in New York in the Bowery district. I came to theconclusion that there were mighty few down-and-outs who couldn't beset upon their pins again, given half a chance by any one sufficientlyinterested. There's the point. You see, Miss, I believe in myfellow-men. The results have justified my labors. Oh, it's onlytemporary, I know. It ain't going to change the whole social system. It's a makeshift. But it helps a bit--and I like it. 

"But, " he continued more seriously, "there's going to be trouble here. A strike is coming. And it's going to be a bad one. I wish I couldconvince Mr. Ames. "

"Have you tried?" she asked. 

"I've written him several times of late. It doesn't do any good. Hissecretary writes back that Mr. Ames is doing all he can. But it's notmuch I see he's doing, except to go on sucking the blood from thesepoor devils down here!"

They soon reached the tenement where Tony lived, and Carmen asked thepriest to go up with her. He raised a hand and smiled. 

"No, " he said, "the good woman doesn't like priests. And my laborsdon't reach the women anyway, except through the men. They constitutemy field. Some one else must work among the women. I'll wait for youhere. "

It was only by making many promises that Carmen could at last get awayfrom the little group on the fourth floor. But she slipped a bill intoTony's hands as she went out, and then hurriedly crossed the hall andopened the unlocked door of the widow Marcus's room. The place wasempty. Carmen pinned a five-dollar bill upon the pillow and hastenedout. 

"Now, " said the priest, when the girl had joined him in the streetbelow, "it ain't right to take you to the Mission--"

"We'll go there first, " the girl calmly announced. "And then to theHall. By the way, there's a telephone in your place? I want to call upthe health officer. I want to report the condition of thesetenements. "

The priest laughed. "It won't do any good, Miss. I've camped on hisheels for months. And he can't do anything, anyway. I see that. If hegets too troublesome to those higher up, why, he gets fired. Theydon't want his reports. He isn't here to report on conditions, but tooverlook 'em. It's politics. "

"You mean to say that nothing can be done in regard to those awfulbuildings which Mr. Ames owns and rents to his mill hands?" she said. 

"That's it, " he replied. "It's criminal to let such buildings stand. But Ames owns 'em. That's enough. "

They went on in silence for some minutes. Meanwhile, the priest wasstudying his fair companion, and wondering who she might be. At lengthhe inquired if she had ever been in Avon before. 

"No, " replied the girl. "I wish I had!"

"Haven't seen Pillette's house then? He's resident manager of the Amesmills. We can go a little out of our way and have a look at it. "

A few minutes later they stood at the iron gate of the manager'sresidence, a massive, brown stone dwelling, set in among ancient treesin an estate of several acres, and surrounded by shrubs and bushes. 

"Fine place, eh?" remarked the priest. 

"Beautiful, " replied Carmen. "Does he know all about those tenementsdown there?"

"Ah, that he does; and cares less. And he knows all about the terriblehot air in his mills, and the flying lint that clogs the lungs of thebabies working there. He sees them leave the place, dripping withperspiration, and go out into the zero temperature half naked. Andwhen they go off with pneumonia, well he knows why; and cares less. Heknows that the poor, tired workers in that great prison lose theirsenses in the awful noise and roar, and sometimes get bewildered andfall afoul of belts and cogs, and lose their limbs or lives. He knows;and doesn't care. So does Mr. Ames. And he wouldn't put safety devicesover his machines, because he doesn't care. I've written to him adozen times about it. But--

"And then Pillette, " he continued; "I've asked him to furnish hishands with decent drinking water. They work ten and twelve hours inthat inferno, and when they want to drink, why, all they have is abarrel of warm water, so covered with lint that it has to be pushedaside in order to get at the water. Why, Pillette don't even give 'emchange rooms! He won't give 'em decent toilet rooms! Says Mr. Amescan't afford it. Seems to me that when a man can give a ball and sendout invitations on cards of solid gold, he can afford to give athought to the thousands who have toiled and suffered in order toenable him to give such a ball, don't you?"

Carmen did. She had attended that reception. The memory came back nowin hot, searing thoughts. 

"Oh, he catches 'em coming and going!" the priest went on. "You see, he manipulates Congress so that a high tariff law is passed, protecting him from imported goods. Then he runs up the prices of hisoutput. That hits his mill hands, for they have to pay the higherprices that the tariff causes. Oh, no, it doesn't result in increasedwages to them. Ha! ha! Not a bit! They're squeezed both ways. He isthe only one who profits by high tariff on cotton goods. See how itworks?"

Yes, Carmen saw. She might not know that Ames periodically appearedbefore Congress and begged its protection--nay, threatened, and thendemanded. She might not know that Senator Gossitch ate meekly from thegreat man's hand, and speciously represented to his dignifiedcolleagues that the benefits of high protective duties were for "thepeople" of the United States. She might not know how Hood, employed toevade the laws enacted to hedge and restrain his master, bribed andbought, schemed and contrived, lobbied, traded, and manipulated, thathis owner might batten on his blood-stained profits, while he kept hisface turned away from the scenes of carnage, and his ears stoppedagainst the piteous cries of his driven slaves. But she did know howneedless it all was, and how easy, oh! how pitiably easy, it would beto remedy every such condition, would the master but yield but amodicum of his colossal, mesmeric selfishness. She did not know, shecould not, that the master, Ames, made a yearly profit from his millsof more than two hundred per cent. But she did know that, were he lessstupidly greedy, even to the extent of taking but a hundred per centprofit, he would turn a flood of sunshine into hundreds of sick, despairing, dying souls. 

"This is the place, " she heard the priest say, his voice seeming tocome from a long distance. "This is the Mission. "

She stopped and looked about her. They were in front of an old, two-story building, decrepit and forbidding, but well lighted. Whileshe gazed, the priest opened the door and bade her enter. 

"This down here is the reading room, " he explained. "The door is neverlocked. Upstairs is my office, and sleeping rooms for men. Also astock of old clothes I keep on hand for 'em when I send 'em out tolook for work. I've clothed an average of four men a day during thepast year, and sent 'em out to look for jobs. I board 'em, and keep'em going until they land something. Sometimes I have to lend 'emmoney. I just help 'em to help themselves. No, I never bother about aman's religion. Come up to my office. "

Carmen climbed the rough steps to the floor above and entered thesmall but well-kept office of the priest. 

"Now here, " he said, with a touch of pride, "is my card-index. I keeptab on all who come here. When they get straightened up and go out tohunt work, I give 'em identification cards. Just as soon as I can getfunds I'm going to put a billiard table back there and fit up a littlechapel, so's the Catholic men who drift in here can attend service. You know, a lot of 'em don't have the nerve to go to a church. Tooproud. But they'd attend Mass here. "

Carmen looked at the man in admiration. Then a thought came to her. "We haven't either of us asked the other's name, " she said. 

The priest's eyes twinkled. "I've been dying to know yours, " hereplied. "I'm Father Magee, Daniel Magee. But the boys generally callme Danny. What shall I call you? Oh, give any name; it doesn't matter, just so's I'll know how to address you. "

"I am Carmen Ariza. And I am from South America, " said the girlsimply. "Now sit down here. I want to talk to you. I have a lot toask. "

 * * * * *

An hour later the girl rose from her chair. "I shall have to wait andvisit the Hall another time, " she said. "I must catch the eight-thirtyback to the city. But--"

"I'll never see you go down this tough street to the depot alone!"averred the priest, reaching for his hat. 

Carmen laughed. But she gratefully accepted the proffered escort. Twoof Father Magee's assistants had come in meanwhile, and were caringfor the few applicants below. 

"You're right, Miss Carmen, " the priest said, as they started for thetrain. "Mr. Ames _must_ be reached. Perhaps you can do it. I can't. But I'll give you every assistance possible. It eats my heart out tosee the suffering of these poor people!"

At eleven o'clock that night Carmen entered the office of the cityeditor of the Express. "Ned, " she said, "I've been with Dante--no, Danny--in Inferno. Now I'm going to Washington. I want expensemoney--a good lot--so that I can leave to-morrow night. "

Haynerd's eyes dilated as he stared at the girl. "Washington!" heejaculated. "Well--! But what did you find down in Avon?"

"I'll write you a detailed report of my trip to-morrow. I'm going homenow, " she replied. 

CHAPTER 12

It is sometimes said of the man who toils at forge or loom in thisgreat commonwealth that he is fast forgetting that Washington issomething more significant to him than what is embraced in thedefinition of the gazetteers. Not so, however, of that class of thegenus _homo_ individualized in J. Wilton Ames. He leaned not upon suchfrail dependence as the _Congressional Record_ for tempered reports ofwhat goes on behind closed legislative doors; he went behind thosedoors himself. He needed not to yield his meekly couched desires tothe law-builders whom his ballot helped select; he himself launchedthose legislators, and gave them their steering charts. But, since theinterpretation of laws was to him vastly more important than theirframing, he first applied himself to the selection of judges, andespecially those of the federal courts. With these safely seated andinstructed at home, he gave himself comfortably to the task of holdinghis legislators in Washington to the course he chose. 

Carmen had not spent a day at the Capital before the significance ofthis fact to the common citizen swept over her like a tidal wave. Ifthe people, those upon whom the stability of the nation rests, lookedas carefully after appointments and elections as did Ames, would theirpresent wrongs continue long to endure? She thought not. And after shehad spent the day with the Washington correspondent of the Express, aMr. Sands, who, with his young wife, had just removed to the Capital, she knew more with respect to the mesmerism of human inertia and itsbaneful effects upon mankind than she had known before. 

And yet, after that first day of wandering through the hallowedprecincts of a nation's legislative halls, she sat down upon a benchin the shadow of the Capitol's great dome and asked herself thequestions: "What am I here for, anyway? What can _I_ do? Why have Icome?" She had acted upon--impulse? No; rather, upon instinct. Andinstinct with her, as we have said, was unrestrained dependence uponher own thought, the thought which entered her mentality only aftershe had first prepared the way by the removal of every obstruction, including self. 

At the breakfast table the second morning after her arrival in thecity, Mr. Sands handed her a copy of the Express. Among the editorialswas her full report upon conditions as she had found them in Avon, published without her signature. Following it was the editor'scomment, merciless in its exposition of fact, and ruthless in itsexposure of the cruel greed externalized in the great cotton industryin that little town. 

Carmen rose from the table indignant and protesting. Hitt had said hewould be wise in whatever use he made of her findings. But, thoughquite devoid of malignity, this account and its added comment werenothing less than a personal attack upon the master spinner, Ames. Andshe had sent another report from Washington last night, one comprisingall she had learned from Mr. Sands. What would Hitt do with that? Shemust get in touch with him at once. So she set out to find a telegraphoffice, that she might check the impulsive publisher who was openlyhurling his challenge at the giant Philistine. 

When the message had gone, the girl dismissed the subject from herthought, and gave herself up completely to the charm of the gloriousmorning and her beautiful environment. For some time she wanderedaimlessly about the city; then bent her steps again toward theCapitol. 

At the window of a florist she stopped and looked long and lovingly atthe gorgeous display within. In the midst of the beautiful profusion asingle flower held her attention. It was a great, brilliant red rose, a kind that she had never seen before. She went in and asked for it. 

"We call it the 'President' rose, Miss, " said the salesman in responseto her query. "It is quite new. "

"I want it, " she said simply. 

And when she went out with the splendid flower burning on her bosomlike living fire, she was glad that Hitt had not been there to see herpay two dollars for it. 

The great Capitol seemed to fascinate her, as she stood before it afew moments later. The spell of tradition enwrapped her. The mightysentiments and motives which had actuated the framers of theConstitution seemed to loom before her like monuments of eternalstone. Had statesmanship degenerated from that day of pure patriotisminto mere corruption? Mr. Sands would have her so believe. 

"The people!" he had exclaimed in scoffing tones. "Why, my dear girl, the people of your great State are represented in the national Senateby--whom? By nobody, I say. By the flies on the panes; by the mice inthe corners; by the god, perhaps, to whom the chaplain offers hisineffectual prayers; but not by men. No; one of your Senatorsrepresents a great railroad; the other an express company! The people?Those Senators know no such ridiculous creature as 'the people'!"

She turned from the Capitol, and for an hour or more strolled in thebrilliant sunlight. "An economic disease, " she murmured at length. "That's what it is. And, like all disease, it is mental. It is adisease of the human conscience. It comes from the fear of separationfrom good. It all reduces to the belief of separation from God--thebelief that upon men's own human efforts depend all the happiness andsatisfaction they can have. Why, I have never known anything buthappiness and abundance! And yet, _I have never made a single effortto acquire them_!" For the girl saw not the past vicissitudes of herlife except as shadowy mists, which dimmed not the sun of her joy. 

"Take care!" cried a loud voice close to her. 

There was a tramping of horses' feet. A great, dark body swept past. It struck her, and brushed her to one side. She strove to holdherself, but fell. 

The man and his companion were off their horses instantly, andassisted the girl to her feet. 

"Are you hurt?" asked the one who had been riding ahead. "I called toyou, but you didn't seem to hear. "

"Not a bit!" laughed the girl, recovering her breath, and stooping tobrush the dust from her dress. "I was dreaming, as usual. "

"Well, I'm glad to hear that! It was a close shave! I'm mighty sorry!Are you sure you're all right? Perhaps you had better come in withus. "

The girl raised her head and looked into his face with a bright smile. The man's anxious expression slowly changed into one of wonder, andthen of something quite different. The girl's long, thick hair hadbeen loosened by the fall, and was hanging about her shoulders. Framedin the deep brown profusion was the fairest face he had ever lookedupon; the most winning smile; the most loving, compassionate glance. 

"You'll have to come in now, and let the maid help you, " he saidfirmly. "And I'll send you home in an auto. May I ask where youlive?"

"New York, " replied Carmen, a little confused as she struggled vainlywith her hair. "Oh, I'm not going to fuss with it any more!" shesuddenly exclaimed. "Yes, I'll go with you, and let the maid do it up. Isn't it long!"

She glanced about her, and then up the avenue toward which the men hadbeen riding. A flush suddenly spread over her face, and she turned andlooked searchingly at the man. 

"You--you--live--in--there?" she stammered, pointing toward thedistant house. "And you are--"

"Yes, " he replied, coming to her assistance, but evidently greatlyenjoying her embarrassment, "I am the President. "

Carmen gave a little gasp. "Oh!"

Then her hand stole mechanically to the rose flaming upon her bosom. "I--I guess I know why I bought this now, " she said softly. Quicklyunpinning it, she extended it to the man. "I was bringing it to you, wasn't I?" she laughed. "It's a 'President' rose. "

The picture was one that would have rejoiced an artist: the simplegirl, with her tumbled hair and wonderful face, standing there in theglorious sunlight, holding out a single rose to the chief executive ofa great nation. 

The President bowed low and took the proffered flower. "I thank you, "he said. "It is beautiful. But the one who gives it is far more so. "

Then he bade his companion take the two horses to the stable, andmotioned to Carmen to accompany him. 

"I was just returning from my morning ride, " he began again, "when youhappened--"

"Things _never_ happen, " interrupted the girl gently. 

He looked at her with a little quizzical side glance. "Then you didn'thappen to be in the way?" he said, smiling. 

"No, " she returned gravely. "I was obeying the law of cause andeffect. "

"And the cause?" he pursued, much interested. 

"A desire to see you, I guess. Or, perhaps, the _necessity_ of seeingyou. And because I wanted to see you in the interests of good, why, evil seemed to try to run over me. "

"But why should you wish to see me?" he continued, greatly wondering. 

"Because you are the head of a wonderful nation. Your influence isvery great. And you are a good man. "

He studied her for a moment. Then:

"You came down from New York to talk with me?" he asked. 

"I think I came all the way from South America to see you, " she said. 

"South America!"

"Yes, Colombia. "

"Colombia! There is a revolution in progress down there now. Did youcome to see me about that? I can do nothing--"

The girl shook her head. "No, " she said, "it's to prevent a revolutionhere in your own country that I think I have come to see you. "

They had by now reached the door of the Executive Mansion. Entering, the President summoned a maid, and turned the big-eyed girl over toher. "Bring her to my office, " he directed, "when she is ready. "

A little later the nameless girl from Simití again stood before thePresident of the United States. 

"I have an important conference at ten, " he said, glancing at a clock. "But we have a few minutes before that time. Will you--may I ask youto tell me something about yourself?" he ventured. "You are feelingall right? No bad effects from the accident?" he added, lookingapprehensively at her while he set out a chair. 

The girl drew the chair close to his desk and sat down. "I knownothing about accidents, " she said quietly. Then, turning quite fromthat topic, she drew the President quickly into her thought andcarried him off with her as on a magic carpet. 

The man listened in rapt attention. From time to time he turned andstared at his strange visitor. At other times he made notes of pointswhich impressed him. Once he interrupted, when she made reference toher past life. "This priest, Josè de Rincón, might he not have beenimprisoned as a political offender?"

"I do not know, " the girl replied tenderly. "My foster-father, Rosendo, did not mention him in the two letters which I havereceived. "

The President nodded; and the girl went rapidly on. Soon she was deepin the problem presented by Avon. 

But at the mention of that town, and of its dominating genius, thePresident seemed to become nervous. At length he raised a hand, as ifto end the interview. 

"I fear I can do nothing at present, " he said with an air ofhelplessness. "My influence is quite limited. "

"But, " she protested, "you have the public welfare at heart. And canyou not see that public welfare is the welfare of each individual?"

"I know Mr. Ames well, " the President replied, somewhat irrelevantly. "He, like all men of great wealth, presents a serious problem, doubtless. But he himself, likewise, is confronted by problems of verytrying natures. We must give him time to work them out. "

The girl sighed. "It's like getting at the essence of Christianity, "she said. "The world has had nearly two thousand years in which to dothat, but it hasn't made much of a start as yet. How much time doesMr. Ames require? And how many more lives must he sacrifice?"

"But, " the President resumed reflectively, "after all, it is thepeople who are wholly responsible for the conditions which exist amongthem. They have the means of remedying every economic situation, theballot. It is really all in their hands, is it not? They elect theirpublic officers, their judges, and their lawmakers. "

Again the girl sighed. "You too, " she said, "take refuge in the cantof the age. Yes, the people do try to elect public servants; but bysome strange anomaly the servant becomes master the moment he entersthe door of office. His thought then centers upon himself. And thenthey, and you, sit helplessly back and cry, No use! And if the peoplerise, their servants meet them with a hail of lead. It's reallychildishly ridiculous, isn't it? when you stop to consider itseriously. "

She leaned her elbows upon the desk, and sat with chin in her hands, looking squarely into the eyes of the President. 

"So you, the head of this great nation, confess to utter helplessness, "she slowly said. "But you don't have to. "

A servant entered at that moment with a card. The President glanced atit, and bade him request the caller to wait a few moments. Then, aftersome reflection:

"The people will always--"

The door through which the servant had passed was abruptly thrownopen, and a harsh voice preceded the entrance of a huge bulk. 

"I am not accustomed to being told to wait, Mr. President, " said theungracious voice. "My appointment was for ten o'clock, and I am hereto keep it. "

Then the newcomer stopped abruptly, and stared in amazement at theyoung girl, sitting with her elbows propped upon the desk, and herface close to that of the President. 

The latter rose, flushed and angry. But Ames did not notice him. Hisattention was centered upon the girl who sat looking calmly up at him. A dark, menacing scowl drew his bushy eyebrows together, and made thesinister look which mantled his face one of ominous import to theperson upon whom it fell. 

Carmen was the first to break the tense silence. With a bright smileilluming her face she rose and held out a hand to the giant beforeher. "Good morning, Mr. Ames, " she said. "We meet pretty often, don'twe?"

Ames ignored both the greeting and the extended hand. Turning upon thePresident, he said sharply: "So, the Express seeks aid in the WhiteHouse, eh?"

"No, Mr. Ames, " said Carmen quickly, answering for the President. "Itseeks to aid the White House. "

Ames turned to the girl. "Might I ask, " he said in a tone of mordantsarcasm, "how you learned that I was to be here this morning? I wouldlike to employ your methods of espionage in my own business. "

"I would give anything if you _would_ employ my methods in yourbusiness, " returned the girl gently. 

The President looked in embarrassment from one to the other. "I think, Miss Carmen, " he said, "that we must consider our interview ended. This next hour belongs by appointment to Mr. Ames. "

A peculiar expression had come into Ames's features. His thought hadbeen working rapidly. Here was an opportunity for a telling stroke. Hewould play it. His manner suddenly became more gracious. 

"Let her remain, Mr. President, " he said in a tone pregnant withmeaning. "I am glad to have a representative of the New York presswith us to hear you express your attitude toward the cottonschedule. "

The President caught the insinuation. His hand was to be forced! Hisindignation mounted, but he checked it. 

"The schedule has been reported out of committee, " he replied briefly. "It is now before Congress. "

"I am aware of that, " said Ames. "And your influence with Congress inregard to it?"

"I am studying the matter, Mr. Ames, " returned the President slowly. 

"Shall the Avon mills be closed pending a decision? Or, on theassumption that Congress will uphold the altered schedule, must theSpinners' Association begin immediate retrenchment? As president ofthat Association, I ask for instructions. "

"My influence with Congress, as you well know, Mr. Ames, is quitelimited, " replied the hectored executive. 

"It is not a question of the _amount_ of your influence with thatbody, Mr. President, " returned Ames coldly, "but of how you willemploy that which you have. "

Silence lay upon them all for some moments. Then Ames resumed:

"I would remind you, " he remarked with cruel insinuation, "that--or, "glancing at the girl, "perhaps I should not make this public. " Hepaused and awaited the effect of his significant words upon thePresident. Then, as the latter remained silent, he went on evenly:

"Second-term prospects, you are aware, are often very greatlyinfluenced by public facts regarding the first election. Of course weare saying nothing that the press might use, but--well, you mustrealize that there is some suspicion current as to the exact manner inwhich your election was--"

"I think you wish to insinuate that my election was due to theCatholic vote, which you controlled in New York, and to your verygenerous campaign contributions, do you not? I see no reason forwithholding from the press your views on the subject. "

"But, my friend, this is an age of investigation, and of suspiciontoward all public officials. And such rumors wouldn't look well on thefront pages of the press throughout the country. Of course, our youngfriend here isn't going to mention them to her superiors; but, nevertheless, they ought to be suppressed at once. Their effect uponyour second-term prospects would be simply annihilating. Now I am in aposition to greatly assist in the matter of--well, in fact, I havealready once offered my aid to the Express. And I stand ready now tojoin with it in giving the lie to those who are seeking to embarrassthe present administration. Miss Carmen is with us--"

"Mr. Ames, " the girl quietly interrupted, "I wish _you_ were with_us_. "

"But, my dear girl, have I--"

"For then there would be no more suffering in Avon, " she added. 

"Ha! Then it was you who wrote that misleading stuff in the Express, eh? I might have known it! May I ask, " he added with a contemptuoussneer, "by whose authority you have visited the houses occupied by mytenants, without my permission or knowledge? I take it you were downthere, although the cloudy weather must have quite dimmed yourperception. "

"Yes, " she answered in a low voice, "I have been there. And it was_very_ cloudy. Yes, I visited your charnel houses and your cemeteries. I saw your victims. I held their trembling hands, and stroked theirhot brows. I fed them, and gave them the promise that I would pleadtheir cause with you. "

"Humph! But you first come here to--"

"It was with no thought of seeing you that I came to Washington, Mr. Ames. If I cross your path often, it must be for a purpose not yetrevealed to either of us. Perhaps it is to warn you, to awaken you, ifnot too late, to a sense of your desperate state. "

"My desperate state!"

"Yes. You are drunk, you know, drunk with greed. And such continuousdrunkenness has made you sick unto death. It is the same dread diseaseof the soul that the wicked Cortez told the bewildered Mexicans hehad, and that could be cured only with gold. You--you don't see, Mr. Ames, that you are mesmerized by the evil which is always using you. "

She stood close to the huge man, and looked straight up into his face. He remained for a moment motionless, yielding again to thatfascination which always held him when in her presence, and of whichhe could give no account to himself. That slight, girlish figure--howeasily he could crush her!

"But you couldn't, you know, " she said cryptically, as she shook herhead. 

"Couldn't what?" he demanded. 

"Crush me. "

He recoiled a step, struck by the sudden revelation that the girl hadread his thought. 

"You see, Mr. Ames, " she continued, "what a craven error is beforetruth. It makes a coward of you, doesn't it? Your boasted power isonly a mesmerism, which you throw like a huge net over your victims. You and they can break it, if you will. "

"Miss Carmen!" exclaimed the President. "We really must consider ourinterview ended. Let us make an appointment for another day. "

"I guess the appointment was made for to-day, " the girl said softly. "And by a higher power than any of us. Mr. Ames is the type of man whois slowly turning our Republican form of government into a despotismof wealth. He boasts that his power is already greater than a czar's. You bow before it; and so the awful monster of privilege goes onunhampered, coiling its slimy tentacles about our national resources, our public utilities, and natural wealth. I--I can't see how you, thehead of this great nation, can stand trembling by and see him do it. It is to me incomprehensible. "

The President flushed. He made as if to reply, but restrained himself. Carmen gave no indication of leaving. A stern look then came into thePresident's face. He stood for a few minutes in thought. Then heturned again to his desk and sat down. 

"Please be seated, " he said, "both of you. I don't know what quarrelthere is between you two, and I am not interested in it. But you, MissCarmen, represent the press; Mr. Ames, business. The things which havebeen voiced here this morning must remain with us alone. Now let ussee if we can not meet on common ground. Is the attitude of yournewspaper, Miss Carmen, one of hostility toward great wealth?"

"The Express raises its voice only against the folly and wickedness ofthe human mind, not against personality, " replied the girl. 

"But you are attacking Mr. Ames. "

"No. We attack only the human thought which manifests in him. Weoppose the carnal thought which expresses itself in the folly, themadness of strife for excessive wealth. It is that strife that makesour hospitals and asylums a disgraceful necessity. It makes theimmigrant hordes of Europe flock here because they are attracted bythe horrible social system which fosters the growth of great fortunesand makes their acquisition possible. Our alms-houses and prisonsincrease in number every year. It is because rich men misuse theirwealth, trample justice under foot, and prostitute a whole nation'sconscience. "

"But the rich need not do that. They do not all--"

"It is a law of human thought, " said Carmen in reply, "that mankind intime become like that which has absorbed their attention. Rich menobey this law with utmost precision. They acquire the nature andcharacter of their god, gold. They rapidly grow to be like that whichthey blindly worship. They harden like their money. They growmetallic, yellow, calloused, unchanging, and soulless, like the coinsthey heap up. There is the great danger to our country, Mr. President. And it is against the human thought that produces such beings--thoughtstamped with the dollar mark--that the Express opposes itself. "

She hesitated, and looked in the direction of Ames. Then she added:

"Their features in time reveal to the world their metallic thought. Their veins shrivel with the fiery lust of gold. Their arteriesharden. And then, at last, they crumble and sink into the dust ofwhich their god is made. And still their memories continue to poisonthe very sources of our national existence. You see, " she concluded, "there is no fool so mired in his folly as the man who gives his soulfor great wealth. "

"A very enjoyable little sermon, preached for my benefit, MissCarmen, " interposed Ames, bowing to her. "And now if you have finishedexcoriating my poor character, " he continued dryly, "will you kindlystate by whose authority you publish to the world my affairs?"

"God's authority, Mr. Ames, " returned the girl gently. 

"Bah! The maudlin sentimentalism of such as you make us all suffer!"he exclaimed with a gesture of disgust. "Hadn't we better sing a hymnnow? You're obsessed with your foolish religious notions! You'rerunning amuck! You'll be wiser in a few years, I hope. "

The girl reflected. "And may I ask, Mr. Ames, by what right you ownmines, and forests, and lands? Divine right, I suppose. "

"By the divine right of law, most assuredly, " he retorted. 

"And you make the law. Yes, divine right! I have learned, " shecontinued, turning to the President, "that a bare handful of men ownor control all the public utilities of this great country. It doesn'tseem possible! But, " abruptly, "you believe in God, don't you?"

He nodded his head, although with some embarrassment. His religionlabored heavily under political bias. 

She looked down at the floor, and sat silent for a while. "Divineright, " she began to murmur, "the fetish of the creatures made rich byour man-made social system! 'The heavens are thine, the earth also isthine: as for the world and the fullness thereof, thou hast foundedthem. ' But, oh, what must be the concept of God held by the rich, aGod who bestows these gifts upon a few, and with them the privilegeand divine consent to oppress and crush their fellow-men! What a loworder of intelligence the rich possess! An intelligence wherein thesentiments of love and justice have melted into money!"

"Mr. President, " put in Ames at this juncture, "I think we have spentquite enough time moralizing. Suppose you now indicate your attitudeon the cotton tariff. I'd like to know what to expect. "

Carmen glanced quickly up. Her sparkling eyes looked right into thePresident's. A smile wreathed her mouth. "I admire the man, " she said, "who dares to stand for the right in the face of the great taboo!There are few men nowadays who stand for anything in particular. "

"Look here!" exclaimed Ames, aware now that he had made a mistake inpermitting the girl to remain, "I wish my interview to be with youalone, Mr. President. "

Carmen rose. "I have embarrassed you both, haven't I?" she said. "Iwill go. But first--"

She went to Ames and laid a hand on his arm. "I wish--I wish I mightawaken you, " she said gently. "There is no victim at Avon in sodesperate a state as you. More gold will not cure you, any more thanmore liquor can cure a slave to strong drink. You do not know that youare hourly practicing the most despicable form of robbery, thewringing of profits which you do not need out of the dire necessitiesof your fellow-beings. "

She stopped and smiled down into the face of the man. His emotionswere in a whirl. This girl always dissected his soul with a smile onher face. 

"I wish I might awaken you and your poor victims by showing you andthem that righteousness makes not for a home in the skies, but forgreater happiness and prosperity for everybody right here in thisworld. Don't you really want the little babies to have enough to eatdown there at Avon? Do you really want the President to support you inthe matter of the cotton schedule, and so increase the misery andsorrow at your mills? You don't know, do you? that one's greatesthappiness is found only in that of others. " She stood looking at himfor a few moments, then turned away. 

The President rose and held out his hand to her. She almost laughed asshe took it, and her eyes shone with the light of her eager, unselfishdesire. 

"I--I guess I'm like Paul, " she said, "consumed with zeal. Anyway, you'll wear my rose, won't you?"

"Indeed I will!" he said heartily. 

"And--you are not a bit afraid about a second term, are you? As forparty principle, why, you know, there is only _one_ principle, God. Heis the Christ-principle, you know, and that is way above partyprinciple. "

Under the spell of the girl's strange words every emotion fled fromthe men but that of amazement. 

"Righteousness, you know, is right-thinking. And that touches justthat about which men are most chary, their pocketbooks. "

She still held his hand. Then she arched her brows and said naïvely:"You will find in yesterday's Express something about Avon. You willnot use your influence with Congress until you have read it, willyou?" And with that she left the room. 

A deep quiet fell upon the men, upon the great executive and the greatapostle of privilege. It seemed to the one that as the door closedagainst that bright presence the spirit of night descended; the othersat wrapped in the chaos of conflicting emotions in which she alwaysleft him. 

Suddenly the President roused up. "Who is she?" he asked. 

"She's the bastard daughter of a negro priest, " replied Ames in anugly tone. 

"What--she? That beautiful girl--! I don't believe it!"

"By God, she is!" cried the thoroughly angered Ames, bringing a hugefist down hard upon the desk. "And I've got the proof! And, what'smore, she's head over heels in love with another renegade priest!

"But that's neither here nor there, " he continued savagely. "I want toknow what you are going to do for us?"

"I--I do not see, Mr. Ames, that I can do anything, " replied thePresident meditatively. 

"Well--will you leave the details to us, and do as we tell you then?"the financier pursued, taking another tack. 

The President hesitated. Then he raised his head. "You say you haveproof?" he asked. 

"Proof?"

"Yes--about the girl, you--"

"Damn the girl!" almost shouted Ames. "I've got proofs that will ruinher, and you too--and, by God, I'll use 'em, if you drive me to it!You seem to forget that you were elected to do our bidding, myfriend!"

The President again lapsed into silence. For a long time he satstaring at the floor. Then he looked up. "It was wonderful, " he said, "wonderful the way she faced you, like David before Goliath! Thereisn't a vestige of fear in her make-up. I--we'll talk this matter oversome other time, Mr. Ames, " he finished, rising abruptly. 

"We'll talk it over now!" roared Ames, his self-control flying to thewinds. "I can ruin you--make your administration a laughing-stock--andplunge this country into financial panic! Do you do as I say, ornot?"

The President looked the angry man squarely in the eyes. "I do not, "he answered quietly. "Good morning. "

CHAPTER 13

"It's corking! Simply corking!" cried Haynerd, when he and Hitt hadfinished reading Carmen's report on her first few days in Washington. "Makes a fellow feel as if the best thing Congress could do would beto adjourn for about fifty years, eh? Such freak legislation! Butshe's a wonder, Hitt! And she's booming the Express to the skies! Say, do you know? she's in love, that girl is! That's why she is so--as theMexicans say--_simpático_. "

"Eh? In love!" exclaimed Hitt. "Well, not with you, I hope!"

"No, unfortunately, " replied Haynerd, assuming a dejected mien, "butwith that Rincón fellow--and he a priest! He's got a son down inCartagena somewhere, and he doesn't write to her either. She's toldSid the whole story, and he's working it up into a book during his oddmoments. But, say, " turning the conversation again into its originalchannel, "how much of her report are we going to run? You know, shetried to head us off. Doesn't want to attack Ames. Ha! ha! As if shehadn't already attacked him and strewn him all over the field!"

"We'll have to be careful in our allusions to the President, " repliedHitt. "I'll rewrite it myself, so as not to offend her or him. AndI--but, by George! her reports are the truth, and they rightfullybelong to the people! The Express is the avowed servant of thepublic! What she finds out belongs to all. I see no reason forconcealing a thing. Did I tell you that I had two inquiries fromItalian and German papers, asking permission to translate her reportsinto their own columns?"

"No? Jerusalem! We're becoming famous! Did you wire her to seeGossitch and Mall?"

"Yes, and Logue, as well as others. And I've put dozens of senatorsand congressmen on our mailing list, including the President himself. I've prepared letters for each one of them, calling attention to thegirl and her unique reports. She certainly writes in a fascinatingvein, doesn't she? Meanwhile, she's circulating around down there andadvertising us in the best possible manner. We're a success, old man!"he finished, slapping the city editor roundly upon the back. 

"Humph!" growled the latter. "Confine your enthusiasm to words, myfriend. Say, what did you do about that liquid food advertisement?"

"Discovered that it was beer, " replied Hitt, "and turned it firmlydown. "

"Well, isn't beer a food? Not that we care to advertise it, but--"

Hitt laughed. "When that fellow Claus smoothly tried to convince methat beer was a food, I sent a sample of his stuff to the Ileschemical laboratory for analysis. They reported ninety-four per centwater, four per cent alcohol--defined now as a poisonous drug--andabout two per cent of possible food substance. If the beer had been ofthe first grade there wouldn't have been even the two per cent ofsolids. You know, I couldn't help thinking of what Carmen said aboutthe beer that is advertised in brown bottles to preserve it from thedeleterious effects of light. Light, you know, starts decay in beer. Well, light, according to Fuller, is 'God's eldest daughter. ' Emersonsays it is the first of painters, and that there is nothing so foulthat intense light will not make it beautiful. Light destroysfermentation. Thus the light of truth destroys the fermentation whichis supposed to constitute the human mind and body. So light tries topurify beer by breaking it up. The brewers have to put it into brownbottles to preserve its poisonous qualities. As Carmen says, beersimply can't stand the light. No evil can stand the light. Remarkable, isn't it?"

"Humph! It's astonishing that so many so-called reputable papers willtake their advertising stuff. It's just as bad as patent medicineads. "

"Yes. And I note that the American public still spend their annualhundred million dollars for patent medicine dope. Most of this isspent by women, who are largely caught by the mail-order trade. Ilearned of one exposure recently made where it was found that a widelyadvertised eye wash was composed of borax and water. The cost wassomewhere about five cents a gallon, and it sold for a dollar anounce. Nice little profit of some two hundred and fifty thousand percent, and all done by the mesmerism of suggestive advertising. Shrewdbusiness, eh? Nice example in morality. Speaking of parasites onsociety, Ames is not the only one!"

"And yet those fellows howl and threaten us with the boycott becausewe won't advertise their lies and delusions. It's as bad asecclesiastical intolerance!"

Carmen spent a week in Washington. Then she returned to New York andwent directly to Avon. What she did there can only be surmised by astudy of her reports to Hitt, who carefully edited them and ran themin the Express. Again, after several days, she journeyed back toWashington. Her enthusiasm was boundless; her energy exhaustless; herindustry ceaseless; and her persistency doggedly unshakable. InWashington she made her way unhindered among those whom she deemedessential to the work which she was doing. Doubtless her ability to dothis and to gain an audience with whomsoever she might choose was ingreat part due to her beauty and charming simplicity, her grace ofmanner, and her wonderful and fearless innocence, combined with amentality remarkable for its matured powers. Hitt and Haynerd groanedover her expenses, but promptly met them. 

"She's worth it, " growled the latter one day. "She's had fourdifferent talks with the President! How on earth do you suppose shedoes it? And how did she get Mall and Logue to take her to dinner andto the theater again and again? And what did she do to induce thatdoddering old blunderbuss, Gossitch, to tell her what Ames was up to?I'll bet he made love to her! How do you suppose she found out thatAmes was hand in glove with the medical profession, and working toothand nail to help them secure a National Bureau of Health? Say, do youknow what that would do? It would foist allopathy upon every chick andchild of us! Make medication, drugging, compulsory! Good heavens! Havewe come to that in this supposedly free country? By the way, Hitt, Doctor Morton has been let out of the University. Fired! He says Amesdid it because of his association with us. What do you think ofthat?"

"I think, my friend, " replied Hitt, "that it is a very serious matter, and one that impinges heavily upon the rights of every one of us, whena roaring lion like Ames is permitted to run loose through ourstreets. Can nothing stop him!"

"I've centered my hopes in Carmen, " sighed Haynerd. "She's my one lastbet. If she can't stop him, then God himself can't!"

Hitt turned and went into his office. A few moments later he came outagain and handed an opened letter to Haynerd. "Some notes she's sentfrom Washington. Mentions the National Bureau of Health project. Ithasn't escaped her, you see. Say, will you tell me where she picks upher information?"

"The Lord gives it to her, I guess, " said Haynerd, glancing over theletter. "What's this?"

 "'Reverend Borwell and Doctor Siler are down here lobbying for the National Bureau of Health bill. Also, Senator Gossitch dropped a remark to me yesterday which makes me believe that he and other Senators have been approached by Tetham with reference to sending an American ambassador to the Vatican. Mr. Ames favors this. '"

Haynerd handed the letter back to Hitt and plunged into the papers onhis desk. "Don't say another word to me!" he exclaimed. "Thiscountry's going stark, staring mad! We're crazy, every mother's son ofus!"

"It's the human mind that is crazy, Ned, because it is wholly withoutany basis of principle, " returned Hitt with a sigh. 

 * * * * *

"Doctor Siler! I beg your pardon!"

"Eh? Why, Miss Carmen!" exclaimed that worthy person, looking up fromthe gutter, whither he had hastened after his silk hat which had beenknocked off by the encounter with the young girl who had rounded thecorner of Ninth street into Pennsylvania avenue and plunged full intohim. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Doctor! I was coming from the SmithsonianInstitution, and I guess--"

"Don't mention it, Miss Carmen. It's a privilege to have my hatknocked off by such a radiant creature as you. "

"But it was so stupid of me! Dreaming again! And I want to offermy--"

"Look here, Miss Carmen, just offer yourself as my guest at luncheon, will you? That will not only make amends, but place me hopelessly inyour debt. "

"Indeed I will!" exclaimed the girl heartily. "I was on my way to arestaurant. "

"Then come with me. I've got a little place around the corner herethat would have made Epicurus sit up nights inditing odes to it. "

The girl laughed merrily, and slipped her arm through his. A fewminutes later they were seated at a little table in a secluded cornerof the doctor's favorite chophouse. 

"By the way, I met a friend of yours a few minutes ago, " announced thedoctor, after they had given their orders. "He was coming out of theWhite House, and--were you ever in a miniature cyclone? Well, that wasAmes! He blew me right off the sidewalk! So angry, he didn't see me. That's twice to-day I've been sent to the gutter!" He laughed heartilyover his experiences, then added significantly: "You and he are bothmental cyclones, but producing diametrically opposite effects. "

Carmen remained seriously thoughtful. The doctor went on chattingvolubly. "Ames and the President don't seem to be pulling togetheras well as usual. The President has come out squarely against himnow in the matter of the cotton schedule. Ames declares that theresult will be a general financial panic this fall. By the way, Mr. Sands, the Express correspondent, seems to be getting mighty closeto administration affairs these days. Where did he get that dataregarding a prospective National Bureau of Health, do you suppose?"

"I gave it to him, " was the simple reply. 

The doctor dropped his fork, and stared at the girl. "You!" heexclaimed. "Well--of course you naturally would be opposed to it. But--"

"Tell me, " she interrupted, "tell me candidly just what you doctorsare striving for, anyway. For universal health? Are your activitiesall quite utilitarian, or--is it money and monopoly that you areafter? It makes a lot of difference, you know, in one's attitudetoward you. If you really seek the betterment of health, then you areonly honestly mistaken in your zeal. But if you are doing this to makemoney--and I think you are--then you are a lot of rascals, deservingdefeat. "

"Miss Carmen, do you impugn my motives?" He laughed lightly at thethought. 

"N--well--" She hesitated. He began to color slightly under her keenscrutiny. "Well, " she finally continued, "let's see. If you doctorshave made the curative arts effective, and if you really do healdisease, then I must support you, of course. But, while there isnothing quite so important to the average mortal as his health, yet Iknow that there is hardly anything that has been dealt with in such abungling way. The art of healing as employed by our various schools ofmedicine to-day is the result of ages and ages of experimentation andbitter experience, isn't it? And its cost in human lives is simplyincalculable. No science is so speculative, none so hypothetical, asthe so-called science of medicine. "

"But we have had to learn, " protested the doctor. 

"Do you realize, Doctor, " she resumed, "that the teaching andpreaching of disease for money is one of the greatest curses restingupon the world to-day? I never saw a doctor until I was on the boatcoming to New York. And then I thought he was one of the greatestcuriosities I had ever seen. I followed him about and listened to himtalk to the passengers. And I learned that, like most of our youngmen, he had entered the practice of medicine under the pressure ofdollars rather than altruism. Money is still the determining factor inthe choice of a profession by our young men. And success and fortunein the medical profession, more than in any other, depend upon thecredulity of the ignorant and helpless human mind. "

"Do you deny that great progress has been made in the curative arts?"he demanded. "See what we have done with diphtheria, with typhoid, with smallpox, and malaria!"

"Surely, Doctor, you can not believe that the mere temporary removingof a disease is _real_ healing! You render one lot of microbesinnocuous, after thousands of years of experimentation, and leavemankind subject to the rest. Then you render another set harmless. Doyou expect to go on that way, making set after set of microbesharmless to the human body, and thus in time, after millions of years, eradicate disease entirely? Do you think that people will then ceaseto die? All the time you are working only in matter and throughmaterial modes. Do you expect thereby to render the human sense oflife immortal? I think a sad disappointment awaits you. Your patientsget well, only to fall sick again. And death to you is still asinevitable as ever, despite your boasted successes, is it not so?"

He broke into a bantering laugh, but did not reply. 

"Doctor, the human mind is self-inoculated. It suffers fromauto-infection. It makes its own disease microbes. It will keep onmaking them, until it is educated out of itself, and taught to dobetter. Then it will give place to the real reflection of divine mind;and human beings will be no more. Why don't you realize this, youdoctors, and get started on the right track? Your real work is in the_mental_ realm. There you will find both cause and cure. "

"Well, I for one have little respect for faith cure--"

"Nor I, " she interposed. "Dependence upon material drugs, Doctor, isreliance upon the _phenomena_ of the human mind. Faith cure isdependence upon the human mind itself, upon the _noumenon_, instead ofthe _phenomenon_. Do you see the difference? Hypnotism is mentalsuggestion, the suggestions being human and material, not divinetruth. The drugging system is an outgrowth of the belief of life inmatter. Faith cure is the belief of life and power inherent in thehuman mind. One is no higher than the other. The origin of healing isshrouded in mythology, and every step of its so-called progress hasbeen marked by superstition, dense ignorance, and fear. The firstdoctor that history records was the Shaman, or medicine-man, whoseremedies reflected his mental status, and later found apt illustrationin the brew concocted by Macbeth's witches. And think you he hasdisappeared? Unbelievable as it may seem, it was only a short time agothat a case was reported from New York where the skin of a freshlykilled black cat was applied as a remedy for an ailment that hadrefused to yield to the prescribed drugging! And only a few years agosome one applied to the Liverpool museum for permission to touch asick child's head with one of the prehistoric stone axes thereexhibited. "

"That was mere superstition, " retorted the doctor. 

"True, " said Carmen. "But _materia medica_ is superstition incarnate. And because of the superstition that life and virtue and power areresident in matter, mankind have swallowed nearly everything known tomaterial sense, in the hope that it would cure them of their ownauto-infection. You remember what awful recipes Luther gave fordisease, and his exclamation of gratitude: 'How great is the mercy ofGod who has put such healing virtue in all manner of muck!'"

"Miss Carmen, " resumed the doctor, "we physicians are workers, nottheorists. We handle conditions as we find them, not as they ought tobe. "

"Oh, no, you don't!" laughed the girl. "You handle conditions as thehuman, mortal mind believes them to be, that's all. You accept itsugly pictures as real, and then you try desperately throughlegislation to make us all accept them. Yet you would bitterly resentit if some religious body should try to legislate its beliefs uponyou. 

"Now listen, you doctors are rank materialists. Perhaps it is because, as Hawthorne puts it, in your researches into the human frame yourhigher and more subtle faculties are materialized, and you lose thespiritual view of existence. Your only remedy for diseased matter ismore matter. And these material remedies? Why, ignorance andsuperstition have given rise to by far the larger number of remediesin use by you to-day! And all of your attempts to rationalize medicineand place it upon a systematic basis have signally failed, because theonly curative property a drug has is the credulity of the person whoswallows it. And that is a factor which varies with the individual. "

"The most advanced physicians give little medicine nowadays, MissCarmen. "

"They are beginning to get away from it, little by little, " shereplied. "In recent years it has begun to dawn upon doctors andpatients alike that the sick who recover do so, not because of thedrugs which they have taken, but _in spite of them_! One of the mostprominent of our contemporary physicians who are getting away from theuse of drugs has said that eighty-five per cent of all illnesses getwell of their own accord, no matter what may or may not be done forthem. In a very remarkable article from this same doctor's pen, inwhich he speaks of the huge undertaking which physicians must assumein order to clear away the _materia medica_ rubbish of the ages, hestates that the greatest struggle which the coming doctor has on hishands is with drugs, and the deadly grip which they have on theconfidence and affections both of the profession and of the public. Among his illuminating remarks about the drug system, I found twodrastic statements, which should serve to lift the veil from the eyesof the chronic drug taker. These are, first, 'Take away opium andalcohol, and the backbone of the patent medicine business would bebroken inside of forty-eight hours, ' and, second, 'No drug, savequinine and mercury in special cases, will cure a disease. ' In wordswhich he quotes from another prominent physician, 'He is the bestdoctor who knows the worthlessness of most drugs. '

"The hundreds of drugs listed in books on _materia medica_ I find aregradually being reduced in number to a possible forty or fifty, andone doctor makes the radical statement that they can be cut down tothe 'six or seven real drugs. ' Still further light has been thrownupon the debasing nature of the drugging system by a member of thePhiladelphia Drug Exchange, in a recent hearing before the HouseCommittee on municipal affairs right here. He is reported as sayingthat it makes little difference what a manufacturer puts into a patentmedicine, for, after all, the effect of the medicine depends upon thefaith of the user. The sick man who turns to patent medicines forrelief becomes the victim of 'bottled faith. ' If his faith issufficiently great, a cure may be effected--and the treatment has been_wholly mental_! The question of ethics does not concern either thepatent medicine manufacturer or the druggist, for they argue that ifthe sick man's faith has been aroused to the point of producing acure, the formula of the medicine itself is of no consequence, and, therefore, if a solution of sugar and water sold as a cure for coldscan stimulate the sufferer's faith to the point of meeting his need, the business is quite legitimate. 'A bunch of bottles and sentiment, 'adds this member of the Drug Exchange, 'are the real essentials forworking healing miracles. '"

"Say!" exclaimed the doctor, again sitting back and regarding her withamazement. "You have a marvelous memory for data!"

"But, Doctor, I am intensely interested in my fellow-men. I want tohelp them, and show them how to learn to live. "

"So am I, " he returned. "And I am doing all I can, the very best Iknow how to do. "

"I guess you mean you are doing what you are prompted to do by everyvagrant impulse that happens to stray into your mentality, aren'tyou?" she said archly. "You haven't really seriously thought out yourway, else you would not be here now urging Congress to spread ablanket of ignorance over the human mind. If you will reflectseriously, if you will lay aside monetary considerations, and a littleof the hoary prejudice of the ages, and will carefully investigate ourpresent medical systems, you will find a large number of schools ofmedicine, bitterly antagonistic to one another, and each accusing theother of inferiority as an exact science, and as grossly ignorant andreprehensibly careless of life. But which of these warring schools canshow the greatest number of cures is a bit of data that has never beenascertained. A recent writer says: 'As important as we all realizehealth to be, the public is receiving treatment that is anything butscientific, and the amount of unnecessary suffering that is going onin the world is certainly enough to make a rock shed tears. ' Hefurther says that, 'at least seventy-five per cent of the people wemeet who are apparently well, are suffering from some chronic ailmentthat regular medical systems can not cure, ' and that many of thesewould try further experimentation were it not for the criticism thatis going on in the medical world regarding various curative systems. The only hope under the drugging system is that the patient's life andpurse may hold out under the strain of trying everything until he canlight upon the right thing before he reaches the end of the list. "

"And do you include surgery in your general criticism?" he asked. 

"Surgery is no less an outgrowth of the belief of sentient matter thanis the drugging system, " she replied. "It is admittedly necessary inthe present stage of the world's thought; but it is likewise admittedto be 'the very uncertain art of performing operations, ' at leastninety per cent of which are wholly unnecessary. 

"You see, " she went on, "the effect upon the _moral_ nature of thesick man is never considered as rightfully having any influence uponthe choice of the system to be employed. If Beelzebub can cast outdemons, why not employ him? For, after all, the end to be attained isthe ejection of the demon. And if God had not intended minerals andplants to be used as both food and medicine, why did He make them?Besides, man must earn his bread in some way under our present crudeand inhuman social system, and if the demand for drugs exists we maybe very sure it will be supplied by others, if not by ourselves. Again, the influence of commercialism as a determining factor in thechoice of a profession, is an influence that works to keep many in thepractice of a profession that they know to be both unscientific andharmful. The result is an inevitable lowering of ideals to the lust ofmaterial accumulation. "

"Well!" he exclaimed. "You certainly are hard on us poor doctors! Andwe have done so much for you, too, despite your accusations. Think ofthe babies that are now saved from diphtheria alone!"

"And think of the children who are the victims of the medical mania!"she returned. "Think how they are brought up under the tyranny offear! Fear of this and of that; fear that if they scratch a fingerblood poisoning will deprive them of life; fear that eating a bit ofthis will cause death; or sitting in a breeze will result in wastingsickness! Isn't it criminal? As for diphtheria antitoxin, it is in thesame class as the white of an egg. It contains no chemicals. It is theresult of human belief, the belief that a horse that has recoveredfrom diphtheria can never again be poisoned by the microbe of thatdisease. The microbe, Doctor, is the externalization in the humanmentality of the mortal beliefs of fear, of life and power in matter, and of disease and death. The microbe will be subject, therefore, tothe human mind's changing thought regarding it, always. "

"Well then, " said the doctor, "if people are spiritual, and if theyreally are a consciousness, as you say, why do we seem to be carryingabout a body with us all the time--a body from which we are utterlyunable to get away?"

"It is because the mortal mind and body are one, Doctor. The body isa lower stratum of the human mind. Hence, the so-called mind isnever distinct from its body to the extent of complete separation, but always has its substratum with it. And, Doctor, the mind can nothold a single thought without that thought tending to becomeexternalized--as Professor James tells us--and the externalizationgenerally has to do with the body, for the mind has come to centerall its hopes of happiness and pleasure in the body, and to base itssense of life upon it. The body, being a mental concept formed offalse thought, passes away, from sheer lack of a definite principleupon which to rest. Therefore the sense of life embodied in it passesaway with it. You know, the ancients had some idea of the cause ofdisease when they attributed it to demons, for demons at least aremental influences. But then, after that, men began to believe thatdisease was sent by God, either to punish them for their evil deeds, or to discipline and train them for paradise. Funny, isn't it? Thinkof regarding pain and suffering as divine agents! I don't wonderpeople die, do you? Humboldt, you know, said: 'The time will comewhen it will be considered a disgrace for a man to be sick, when theworld will look upon it as a misdemeanor, the result of somevicious thinking. ' Many people seem to think that thought affectsonly the brain; but the fact is that _we think all over_!"

"But look here, " put in the doctor. "Here's a question I intended toask Hitt the other night. He said the five physical senses did nottestify truly. Well now, if, as you say, the eyes do not testify todisease, then they can't testify to cures either, eh?" He sat backwith an air of triumph. 

"Quite correct, " replied Carmen. "The physical senses testify only tobelief. In the case of sickness, they testify to false belief. In thecase of a cure, they testify to a changed belief, to a belief ofrecovered health, that is all. It is all on the basis of human belief, you see. "

"Eh? But--nerves feel--"

"Nerves, Doctor, like all matter, are externalizations of humanthought. Can the externalization of thought talk back to thought? No. You are still on the basis of mere human belief. "

At that moment the doctor leaned over and tapped upon the window toattract the attention of some one in the street. Carmen looked out andcaught sight of a tall, angular man dressed in clerical garb. The manbowed pleasantly to the doctor, and cast an inquiring glance at thegirl, then passed on. 

"A priest?" inquired Carmen. 

"Yes, Tetham, " said the doctor. 

"Oh, is that the man who maintains the lobby here at the Capital forhis Church? I've heard about him. He--well, it is his business to seethat members of his Church are promoted to political office, isn't it?He trades votes of whole districts to various congressmen in returnfor offices for strong church members. He also got the parochialschools of New York exempt from compulsory vaccination. TheExpress--"

"Eh? The Express has heard from him?" inquired the doctor. 

"Yes. We opposed the candidate Mr. Ames was supporting for Congress. We also supported Mr. Wales in his work on the cotton schedule. And sowe heard from Father Tetham. He is supporting the National Bureau ofHealth bill. He is working for the Laetare medal. He--"

"Say, Miss Carmen, will you tell me where you pick up your news?Really, you astonish me! Do you know something about everybody here inWashington?"

She laughed. "I have learned much here, " she said, "about populargovernment as exemplified by these United States. The knowledge is alittle saddening. But it is especially saddening to see ourconstitutional liberties threatened by this Bureau of Health bill, andby the Government's constant truckling to the Church of Rome. Doctor, can it be that you want to commit this nation to the business ofpracticing medicine, and to its practice according to the allopathic, or 'regular' school? The American Medical Association, with itsreactionary policies and repressive tendencies, is making strenuousendeavors to influence Congress to enact certain measures which wouldresult in the creation of such a Department of Health, the effect ofwhich would be to monopolize the art of healing and to create a'healing trust. ' If this calamity should be permitted to come upon theAmerican people, it would fall as a curtain of ignorance andsuperstition over our fair land, and shut out the light of the dawningSun of Truth. It would mean a reversion to the blight and mold of theMiddle Ages, in many respects a return in a degree to the ignoranceand tyranny that stood for so many centuries like an impassable rockin the pathway of human progress. The attempt to foist upon aprogressive people a system of medicine and healing which is whollyunscientific and uncertain in its effects, but which is admittedlyknown to be responsible for the death of millions and for untoldsuffering and misery, and then to say, '_Thou shalt be cured thereby, or not be cured at all_, ' is an insult to the intelligence of theFathers of our liberties, and a crime upon a people striving for thelight. It smacks of the Holy Inquisition: You accept our creed, or youshall go to hell--after we have broken you on the rack! Why, thethought of subjecting this people to years of further dosing andexperimentation along the materialistic lines of the 'regular' school, of curtailing their liberties, and forcing their necks under the yokeof medical tyranny, should come to them with the insistence of aclarion call, and startle them into such action that the subtle evilwhich lurks behind this proposed legislative action would be draggedout into the light and exterminated! To permit commercialism andgreed, the lust of mammon, and the pride of the flesh that expressesitself in the demand, 'Who shall be greatest?' to dictate the courseof conduct that shall shape the destinies of a great people, is toadmit the failure of free government, and to revert to a condition ofmind that we had thought long since outgrown. To yield our dear-boughtliberties to Italian ecclesiastics, on the other hand--well, Doctor, _it is just unthinkable_!"

"H'm! Well, at least you are delightfully frank with me. Yet you havethe effect of making me feel as if--as if I were in some way behind aveil. That--"

"Well, the human mind is very decidedly behind a veil--indeed, behindmany of them. And how can it see God through them? Mankind just gropeabout all their lives back of these veils, not knowing that God isright before them all the time. God has got to be everything, or elseHe will be nothing. With or without drugs, it is God 'who healeth allthy diseases. ' The difficulty with physicians is that they are denselyignorant of what healing means, and so they always start with adreadful handicap. They believe that there is something real to beovercome--and of course fail to permanently overcome it. Many of themare not only pitiably ignorant, but are in the profession simply tomake money out of the fears and credulity of the people. Doctor, thephysician of to-day is in no way qualified to handle the question ofpublic health--especially those doctors who say: 'If you won't takeour medicines we'll get a law passed that will make you take them. ' Toplace the health of the people in their hands would be a terriblemistake. The agitation for a federal Department of Health is basedupon motives of ignorance and intentional wrong. If the peoplegenerally knew this, they would rise in a body against it. Make whatlaws you wish for yourself, Doctor. The human mind is constantlyoccupied in the making of ridiculous laws and limitations. But do notattempt to foist your laws upon the people. Tell me, why all thisagitation about teaching sex-hygiene in the public schools? Why not, for a change, teach Christianity? What would be the result? But eventhe Bible has been put out of the schools. And by whom? By yourChurch, that its interpretation may continue to be falsely made bythose utterly and woefully ignorant of its true meaning!"

For some moments they continued their meal in silence. Then the girltook up the conversation again. "Doctor, " she said, "will you come outfrom among them and be separate?"

He looked at her quizzically. "Oppose Ames?" he finally said. 

"Ah, that is the rub, then! Yes, oppose ignorance and falsity, eventhough incarnate in Mr. Ames, " she replied. 

"He would ruin me!" exclaimed the doctor. "He ruins everybody whostands in his way! The cotton schedule has gone against him, and thewhole country will have to suffer for it!"

"But how can he make the country suffer because he has been blocked inhis colossal selfishness?" she asked. 

"That I can not answer, " said the doctor. "But I do know that he hasintimated that there will be no cotton crop in this country nextyear. "

"No cotton crop! Why, how can he prevent that?"

The doctor shook his head. "Mr. Ames stands as the claim of omnipotentevil, " was his laconic reply. 

And when the meal was ended, the girl went her way, pondering deeply. "No cotton crop! What--what did he mean?" But that was something toodark to be reported to the Express. 

 * * * * *

Three weeks from the day he had his brush with Carmen in the presenceof the President, Ames, the great corruptionist, the mastermanipulator, again returned from a visit to Washington, and in adangerous frame of mind. What might have been his mental state had heknown that the train which drew his private car also brought Carmenback to New York, can only be conjectured. It was fortunate, no doubt, that both were kept in ignorance of that fact, and that, while thegreat externalization of the human mind's "claim" of business sulkedalone in his luxurious apartments, the little follower afterrighteousness sat in one of the stuffy day coaches up ahead, holdingtired, fretful babies, amusing restless children, and soothing awaythe long hours to weary, care-worn mothers. 

When the financier's car drew into the station his valets breathedgreat sighs of relief, and his French chef and negro porter mopped theperspiration from their troubled brows, while silently offering peansof gratitude for safe delivery. When the surly giant descended the carsteps his waiting footman drew back in alarm, as he caught hismaster's black looks. When he threw himself into the limousine, hischauffeur drew a low whistle and sent a timidly significant glance inthe direction of the lackey. And when at last he flung open the doorsof his private office and loudly summoned Hood, that capable andgenerally fearless individual quaked with dire foreboding. 

"The Express--I want a libel suit brought against it at once! Draw itfor half a million! File it in Judge Penny's court!"

"Yes, sir, " responded the lawyer meekly. "The grounds?"

"Damn the grounds!" shouted Ames. Then, in a voice trembling withanger: "Have you read the last week's issues? Then find your groundsin them! Make that girl a defendant too!"

"She has no financial interest in the paper, sir. And, as for thereports which they have published--I hardly think we can establish acase from them--"

"What? With Judge Penny sitting? If you and he can't make out a caseagainst them, then I'll get a judge and a lawyer who can! I want thatbill filed to-morrow!" bringing his fist down upon the desk. 

"Very well, sir, " assented Hood, stepping back. 

"Another thing, " continued Ames, "see Judge Hanson and have thecalling of the Ketchim case held in abeyance until I am ready for it. I've got a scheme to involve that negro wench in the trial, and dragher through the gutters! So, she's still in love with Rincón, eh?Well, we'll put a crimp in that little affair, I guess! Has Willettheard from Wenceslas?"

"Not yet, sir. "

"I'll lift the scalp from that blackguard Colombian prelate if hetries to trick me! Has Willett found Lafelle's whereabouts?"

"No, sir. But the detectives report that he has been in Spainrecently. "

"Spain! What's he--up to there?" he exclaimed in a voice that beganhigh and ended in a whisper. 

He lapsed into a reflective mood, and for some moments his thoughtsseemed to wander far. Then he pulled himself together and roused outof his meditations. 

"You told Jayne that I would back the Budget to any extent, providedit would publish the stuff I sent it?"

"Yes, sir. He was very glad to accept your offer. "

"Very well. You and Willett set about at once getting up dailyarticles attacking the Express. I want you to dig up every move evermade by Hitt, Haynerd, that girl, Waite, Morton, and the wholemiserable, sneaking outfit! Rake up every scandal, every fact, orrumor, that is in any way associated with any of them. I want themliterally cannonaded by the Budget! Hitt's a renegade preacher!Haynerd was a bum before he got the Social Era! Waite is an unfrockedpriest! Miss Wall's father was a distiller! That girl--that girl isa--Did you know that she used to be in a brothel down in the red-lightdistrict? Well, she did! Great record the publishers of the Expresshave, eh? Now, by God! I want you and Jayne to bury that whole outfitunder a mountain of mud! I'm ready to spend ten millions to do it!Kill 'em! Kill 'em all!"

"I think we can do it, Mr. Ames, " returned the lawyer confidently. 

"You've got to! Now, another matter: I'm out to get the President'sscalp! He's got to go down! Begin with those New York papers which wecan influence. I'll get Fallom and Adams over here for a conference. Meanwhile, think over what we'd better say to them. Our attacks uponthe President must begin at once! I've already bought up a Washingtondaily for that purpose. They have a few facts now that will discredithis administration!"

"Very well, Mr. Ames. Ah--a--there is a matter that I must mention assoon as you are ready to hear it, Mr. Ames--regarding Avon. It seemsthat the reports which that girl has made have been translated intoseveral languages, and are being used by labor agitators down there tostir up trouble. The mill hands, you know, never really understoodwhat your profits were, and--well, they have always been quiteignorant, you know, regarding any details of the business. But nowthey think they have been enlightened--they think they see how thetariff has benefited you at their expense--and they are extremelybitter against you. That priest, Father Danny, has been doing a lot oftalking since the girl was down there. "

"By God!" cried Ames, rising from his chair, then sinking back again. 

"You see, Mr. Ames, " the lawyer continued, "the situation is fastbecoming acute. The mill hands don't believe now that you were everjustified in shutting down, or putting them on half time. And, whetheryou reduce wages or not, they are going to make very radical demandsupon you in the near future, unless I am misinformed. These demandsinclude better working conditions, better tenements, shorter hours, and very much higher wages. Also the enforcement of the child laborlaw, I am sorry to say. "

"They don't dare!" shouted Ames. 

"But, after all, Mr. Ames, you know you have said that it wouldstrengthen your case with Congress if there should be a strike atAvon. "

"But not now! Not now!" cried Ames. "It would ruin everything! I amdistinctly out of favor with the President--owing to that little negrowench! And Congress is going against me if I lose Gossitch, Logue, andMall! That girl has put me in bad down there! Wales is beginning tothreaten! By G--"

"But, Mr. Ames, she can be removed, can she not?"

"Violence would still further injure us. But--if we can drive theExpress upon the shoals, and then utterly discredit that girl, eitherin the libel suit or the Ketchim trial, why, then, with a little showof bettering things at Avon, we'll get what we want. But we've gotwork before us. Say, is--is Sidney with the Express?" he addedhesitatingly. 

Hood started, and shot a look of mingled surprise and curiosity at hismaster. Was it possible that Ames--

"You heard my question, Mr. Hood?"

"I--I beg pardon! Yes, sir--Sidney is still with them. He--a--they sayhe has quite conquered his--his--"

"You mean, he's no longer a sot?" Ames asked brutally. "Out with it, man! Don't sit there like a smirking Chinese god!"

"Well, Mr. Ames, I learn that Sidney has been cured of his habits, andthat the--that girl--did it, " stammered the nervous lawyer. 

Ames's mouth jerked open--and then snapped shut. Silence held him. Hishead slowly sank until his chin touched his breast. And as he sat thusenwrapped, Hood rose and noiselessly left the room. 

Alone sat the man of gold--ah, more alone than even he knew. Alonewith his bruised ambitions, his hectored egoism, his watery aims. Alone and plotting the ruin of those who had dared bid him halt in hismad, destroying career. Alone, this high priest of the caste ofabsolutism, of the old individualism which is fast hurrying into therealm of the forgotten. Alone, and facing a new century, with whoseideals his own were utterly, stubbornly, hopelessly discrepant. 

Alone he sat, looking out, unmoved, upon the want and pain ofcountless multitudes gone down beneath the yoke of conditions which hehad made too hard for them. Looking, unmoved, unhearing, upon thebitter struggles of the weak, the ignorant, the unskilled, the grosshewers of wood and drawers of water. Looking, and knowing not that intheir piteous cry for help and light was sounded his own dire peril. 

The door opened, and the office boy announced the chief stenographerof the great bank below. Ames looked up and silently nodded permissionfor the man to enter. 

"Mr. Ames, " the clerk began, "I--I have come to ask a favor--agreat favor. I am having difficulty--considerable difficulty insecuring stenographers, but--I may say--my greatest struggle iswith myself. I--Mr. Ames, I can not--I simply can not continue tohire stenographers at the old wage, nine dollars a week! I know howthese girls are forced to live. Mr. Ames, with prices where theyare now, they can not live on that! May I not offer them more? Say, ten or twelve dollars to start with?"

Ames looked at him fixedly. "Why do you come to me with your request?"he asked coldly. "Your superior is Mr. Doan. "

"Yes, sir, I know, " replied the young man with hesitation. "But--I--didspeak to him about it, and--he refused. "

"I can do nothing, sir, " returned Ames in a voice that chilled theman's life-current. 

"Then I shall resign, Mr. Ames! I refuse to remain here and hirestenographers at that criminal wage!"

"Very well, sir, " replied Ames in the same low, freezing tone. "Handyour resignation to Mr. Doan. Good day, sir. "

Again the guardian of the sanctity of private property was left alone. Again, as he lapsed into dark revery, his thought turned back uponitself, and began the reconstruction of scenes and events long sinceshadowy dreams. And always as they built, the fair face of that younggirl appeared in the fabric. And always as he retraced his course, herpath crossed and crossed again his own. Always as he moved, herreflection fell upon him--not in shadow, but in a flood of light, exposing the secret recesses of his sordid soul. 

He dwelt again upon the smoothness of his way in those days, beforeher advent, when that group of canny pirates sat about the Beaubien'stable and laid their devious snares. It was only the summer before shecame that this same jolly company had merged their sacred trust assetsto draw the clouds which that autumn burst upon the country as theworst financial panic it had known in years. And so shrewdly had theyplanned, that the storm came unheralded from a clear sky, and at atime when the nation was never more prosperous. 

He laughed. It had been rich fun!

And then, the potato scheme. They had wagered that he could not put itthrough. How neatly he had turned the trick, filled his pockets, andtransformed their doubts into wondering admiration! It had been rarepleasure! Oh, yes, there had been some suffering, he had been told. Hehad not given that a thought. 

And the Colombian revolution! How surprised the people of these UnitedStates would be some day to learn that this tropic struggle was inessence an American war! The smug and unthinkingly contented in thisgreat country of ours regarded the frenzied combat in the far South asbut a sort of _opéra bouffe_. What fools, these Americans! And he, when that war should end, would control navigation on the greatMagdalena and Cauca rivers, and acquire a long-term lease on theemerald mines near Bogotá. The price? Untold suffering--countlessbroken hearts--indescribable, maddening torture--he had not given thata thought. 

He laughed again. 

But he was tired, very tired. His trip to Washington had beenexhausting. He had not been well of late. His eyes had been bloodshot, and there had been several slight hemorrhages from the nose. Hisphysician had shaken his head gravely, and had admonished him to becareful--

But why did that girl continue to fascinate him? he wondered. Why now, in all his scheming and plotting, did he always see her before him?Was it only because of her rare physical beauty? If he wrote or read, her portrait lay upon the page; if he glanced up, she stood therefacing him. There was never accusation in her look, never malice, nortrace of hate. Nor did she ever threaten. No; but always shesmiled--always she looked right into his eyes--always she seemed tosay, "You would destroy me, but yet I love you. "

God! What a plucky little fighter she was! And she fought him fairly. Aye, much more so than he did her. She would scorn the use of hismethods. He had to admit _that_, though he hated her, detested her, would have torn her into shreds--even while he acknowledged that headmired her, yes, beyond all others, for her wonderful bravery and herloyal stand for what she considered the right. 

He must have dozed while he sat there in the warm office alone. Surely, that hideous object now floating before his straining gaze, that thing resembling the poor, shattered Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, was notreal! It was but a shadow, a flimsy thing of thought! And thatwoestricken thing there, with its tenuous arms extended towardhim--was that Gannette? Heavens, no! Gannette had died, stark mad!But, that other shade--so like his wife, a few months dead, yet aliveagain! Whence came that look of horror in a face once so haughty! Itwas unreal, ghastly unreal, as it drifted past! Ah, now he knew thathe was dreaming, for there, there in the light stood Carmen! Oh, whata blessed relief to see that fair image there among those otherghastly sights! He would speak to her--

But--_God above_! _What was that?_ A woman--no, not Carmen--fairand--

Her white lips moved--they were transparent--he could see rightthrough them--and great tears dropped from her bloodless cheeks whenher accusing look fell upon him!

Slowly she floated nearer--she stopped before him, and laid a handupon his shoulder--it was cold, cold as ice! He tried to call out--torise--to break away--

And then, groaning aloud, and with his brow dripping perspiration, heawoke. 

Hood entered, but stopped short when he saw his master's white face. "Mr. Ames! You are ill!" he cried. 

Ames passed a hand across his wet forehead. "A--a little tired, that'sall, I guess. What now?"

The lawyer laid a large envelope upon the desk. "It has come, " hesaid. "There's a delegation of Avon mill hands in the outer office. Here are their demands. It's just what I thought. "

Ames slowly took up the envelope. For a moment he hesitated. Again heseemed to see that smiling girl before him. His jaw set, and his facedrew slowly down into an expression of malignity. Then, withoutexamining its contents, he tore the envelope into shreds, and cast thepieces into the waste basket. 

"Put them out of the office!" he commanded sharply. "Wire Pillette atonce to discharge these fellows, and every one else concerned in theagitation! If those rats down there want to fight, they'll find meready!"

CHAPTER 14

The immense frame of J. Wilton Ames bent slightly, and the great legsmight have been seen to drag a bit, as the man entered his privateelevator the morning after his rejection of the mill hands' demands, and turned the lever that caused the lift to soar lightly to hisoffice above. And a mouse--had the immaculate condition of hisluxurious _sanctum_ permitted such an alien dweller--could have seenhim sink heavily into his great desk chair, and lapse into deepthought. Hood, Willett, and Hodson entered in turn; but the magnategave them scant consideration, and at length waved them all away, andbent anew to his meditations. 

Truth to tell--though he would not have owned it--the man was nowdimly conscious of a new force at work upon him; of a change, slowly, subtly taking place somewhere deep within. He was feebly cognizant ofemotions quite unknown; of unfamiliar sentiments, whose outlines werebut just crystallizing out from the thick magma of his materialisticsoul. 

And he fought them; he hated them; they made him appear unto himselfweak, even effeminate! His abhorrence of sentimentalism had been amongthe strongest of his life-characteristics; and yet, though he couldnot define it, a mellowing something seemed to be acting upon him thatdull, bitterly cold winter morning, that shed a soft glow throughouthis mental chambers, that seemed to touch gently the hard, ruggedthings of thought that lay within, and soften away their sharpoutlines. He might not know what lay so heavily upon his thought, ashe sat there alone, with his head sunk upon his breast. And yet thegirl who haunted his dreams would have told him that it was aninterrogation, even the eternal question, "What shall it profit aman--?"

Suddenly he looked up. The door had opened, he thought. Then he satbolt upright and stared. 

"Good morning, Mr. Ames. May I come in?"

Come in! Had ever such heavenly music touched his ears before! Thiswas not another dream! The vision this time was real! He sprang to hisfeet. He would have held out his arms to her if he could. 

And yet, how dared she come to him? How dared she, after what she haddone? Was this fresh affrontery? Had she come again to flout him? Tostand within the protection which her sex afforded and vivisect anewhis tired soul? But, whatever her motives, this girl did the mostdaring things he had ever seen a woman do. 

"Isn't it funny, " she said, as she stood before him with a whimsicallittle smile, "that wherever I go people so seldom ask me to sitdown!"

Ames sank back into his seat without speaking. Carmen stood for amoment looking about her rich environment; then drew up a chair closeto him. 

"You haven't the slightest idea why I have come here, have you?" shesaid sweetly, looking up into his face. 

"I must confess myself quite ignorant of the cause of this unexpectedpleasure, " he returned guardedly, bending his head in mock deference, while the great wonder retained possession of him. 

"Well, " she went on lightly, "will you believe me when I tell you thatI have come here because I love you?"

Aha! A dark suspicion sprang up within him. So this was an attack froma different quarter! Hitt and Haynerd had invoked her feminine wiles, eh?

Nonsense! With one blow the unfamiliar sentiment which had beenshedding its influence upon him that morning laid the ugly suspiciondead at his feet. A single glance into that sweet face turned solovingly up to his brought his own deep curse upon himself for hishellish thought. 

"You know, " she bubbled, with a return of her wonted airy gaiety, "Ijust had to run the gauntlet through guards and clerks and office boysto get here. Aren't you glad I didn't send in my card? For then youwould have refused to see me, wouldn't you?"

"I would not!" he replied harshly. Then he repented his tone. "If Ihad known you were out there, " he said more gently, "I'd have sent outand had you dragged in. I--I have wanted something this morning; andnow I am sure it was--"

"Yes, " she interrupted, taking the words out of his mouth, "you wanted_me_. I knew you would. You see, it's just absolutely impossible tooppose anybody who loves you. You know, that's the very method Jesusgave for overcoming our enemies--to love them, just love them topieces, until we find that we haven't any enemies at all any more. Isn't it simple? My! Well, that's the way I've been doing withyou--just loving you. "

The man's brows knotted, and his lips tightened. Was this girlridiculing him? Or was there aught but the deepest sincerity expressedin the face from which he could not take his eyes? Impossible! Andyet, did ever human being talk so strangely, so weirdly, as she?

He bent a little closer to her. "Did you say that you loved me?" heasked. "I thought you looked upon me as a human monster. " After all, there was a note of pathos in the question. Carmen laid her hand uponhis. 

"It's the _real_ you that I love, " she answered gently. "The monsteris only human thought--the thought that has seemed to mesmerize you. But you are going to throw off the mesmerism, aren't you? I'll helpyou, " she added brightly. "You're going to put off the 'old man'completely--and you're going to begin by opening yourself and lettingin a little love for those poor people down at Avon, aren't you? Yes, you are!"

At the mention of the people of Avon his face became stern and dark. And yet she spoke of them alone. She had not mentioned the Beaubien, Miss Wall, the Express, nor herself. He noted this, and wondered. 

"You see, you don't understand, Mr. Ames. You'll be, oh, so surprisedsome day when you learn a little about the laws of thought--even theway human thought operates! For you can't possibly do another personan injury without that injury flying back and striking you. It's aregular boomerang! You may not feel the effects of its return rightaway--but it does return, and the effects accumulate. And then, someday, when you least expect it, comes the crash! But, when you love aperson, why, that comes back to you too; and it never comes alone. Itjust brings loads of good with it. It helps you, and everybody. Oh, Mr. Ames, " she cried, suddenly rising and seizing both his hands, "you've just _got_ to love those people down there! You can't help it, even if you think you can, for hate is not real--it's an awfuldelusion!"

It was not so much an appeal which the girl made as an affirmation ofthings true and yet to come. The mighty _Thou shalt not!_ which Moseslaid upon his people, when transfused by the omnipotent love of theChrist was transformed from a clanking chain into a silken cord. Therestriction became a prophecy; for when thou hast yielded self to thebenign influence of the Christ-principle, then, indeed, thou shalt notdesire to break the law of God. 

Carmen returned to her chair, and sat eagerly expectant. Ames gropedwithin his thought for a reply. And then his mental grasp closed uponthe words of Hood. 

"They are very bitter against me--they hate me!" he retorted lamely. 

"Ah, yes, " she said quickly. "They reflect in kind your thought ofthem. Your boomerangs of greed, of exploitation, of utter indifferencewhich you have hurled at them, have returned upon you in hatred. Doyou know that hatred is a fearful poison? And do you know thatanother's hatred resting upon you is deadly, unless you know how tomeet and neutralize it with love? For love is the neutralizingalkaloid. "

"Love is--weakness, " he said in a low tone. "That kind, at least. "

"Love weakness! Oh! Why, there is no such mighty power in the wholeuniverse as love! It is omnipotent! It is hatred that is weak!"

Ames made a little gesture of contempt. "We argue from differentstandpoints, " he said. "I am a plain, matter-of-fact, cold-bloodedbusiness man. There is no love in business!"

"And that, " she replied in a voice tinged with sadness, "is whybusiness is such chaos; why there is so much failure, so much anxiety, fear, loss, and unhappiness in the business world. Mr. Ames, youhaven't the slightest conception of real business, have you?"

She sat for a moment in thought. Then, brightly, "I am in business, Mr. Ames--?"

"Humph! I am forced to agree with you there! The business ofattempting to annihilate me!"

"I am in the business of reflecting good to you, and to all mankind, "she gently corrected. 

"Then suppose you manifest your love for me by refraining frommeddling further in my affairs. Suppose from now on you let mealone. "

"Why--I am not meddling with you, Mr. Ames!"

"No?" He opened a drawer of the desk and took out several copies ofthe Express. "I am to consider that this is not strictly meddling, eh?" he continued, as he laid the papers before her. 

"No, not at all, " she promptly replied. "That's uncovering evil, so'sit can be destroyed. All that evil, calling itself you and yourbusiness, has got to come to the surface--has got to come up to thelight, so that it can be--"

"Ah! I see. Then I, the monster, must be exposed, eh? And afterwarddestroyed. A very pretty little idea! And the mines and mills which Iown--"

"You own nothing, Mr. Ames, except by consent of the people whom youoppress. They will wake up some day; and then state and nationalownership of public utilities will come, forced by such as you. "

"And that desideratum will result in making everybody honest, Isuppose?"

"No, " she answered gravely. "We must go deeper than that. All ourpresent troubles, whether domestic, business, civic, or social, comefrom a total misapprehension of the nature of God--a misunderstandingof what is really _good_. We have _all_ got to prove Him. And we arevery foolish to lose any more time setting about it, don't you thinkso?

"You see, " she went on, while he sat studying her, "those poor peopledown at Avon don't know any more about what is the real good than youdo. And that's why their thoughts and yours center upon the falsepleasures of this ephemeral existence called life--this existence ofthe so-called physical senses--and why you both become the tools ofvice, disease, and misfortune. They build up such men as you, and thenyou turn about and crush them. And in the end you are both what theBible says--poor, deluded fools. "

"Well, I'll be--"

"Oh, don't swear!" she pleaded, again seizing his hand and laughing upinto his face. But then her smile vanished. 

"It's time you started to prove God, " she said earnestly. "Won't youbegin now--to-day? Haven't you yet learned that evil is the verystupidest, dullest, most uninteresting thing in the world? It is, really. Won't you turn from your material endeavors now, and take timeto learn to really live? You've got plenty of time, you know, for youaren't obliged to work for a living. "

She was leaning close to him, and her breath touched his cheek. Hersoft little hand lay upon his own. And her great, dark eyes lookedinto his with a light which he knew, despite his perverted thought, came from the unquenchable flame of her selfless love. 

Again that unfamiliar sentiment--nay, rather, that sentiment longdormant--stirred within him. Again his worldly concepts, longentrenched, instantly rose to meet and overthrow it. He had not yetlearned to analyze the thoughts which crept so silently into hisever-open mentality. To all alike he gave free access. And to thosewhich savored of things earthy he still gave the power to build, withhimself as a willing tool. 

"You will--help me--to live?" he said. He thought her the mostgloriously beautiful object he had ever known, as she sat there beforehim, so simply gowned, and yet clothed with that which all the gold ofOphir could not have bought. 

"Yes, gladly--oh, so gladly!" Her eyes sparkled with a rush of tears. 

"Don't you think, " he said gently, drawing his chair a little closerto her, "that we have quite misunderstood each other? I am sure wehave. "

"Perhaps so, " she answered thoughtfully. "But, " with a happy smileagain lighting her features, "we can understand each other now, can'twe?"

"Of course we can! And hasn't the time come for us to work together, instead of continuing to oppose each other?"

"Yes! yes, indeed!" she cried eagerly. 

"I--I have been thinking so ever since I returned yesterday fromWashington. I am--I--"

"We need each other, don't we?" the artless girl exclaimed, as shebeamed upon him. 

"I am positive of it!" he said with suggestive emphasis. "I can helpyou--more than you realize--and I want to. I--I've been sorry for you, little girl, mighty sorry, ever since that story got abroad about--"

"Oh, never mind that!" she interrupted happily. "We are living in thepresent, you know. "

"True--and in the future. But things haven't been right for you. And Iwant to see them straightened out. And you and I can do it, littleone. Madam Beaubien hasn't been treated right, either. And--"

"There!" she laughed, holding up a warning finger. "We're going toforget that in the good we're going to do, aren't we?"

"Yes, that's so. And you are going to get a square deal. Now, I've gota plan to make everything right. I want to see you in the place thatbelongs to you. I want to see you happy, and surrounded by all that isrightfully yours. And if you will join me, we will bring that allabout. I told you this once before, you may remember. "

He stopped and awaited the effect of his words upon the girl. 

"But, Mr. Ames, " she replied, her eyes shining with a great hope, "don't think about me! It's the people at Avon that I want to help. "

"We'll help them, you and I. We'll make things right all round. AndMadam Beaubien shall have no further trouble. Nor shall the Express. "

"Oh, Mr. Ames! Do you really mean it? And--Sidney?"

"Sidney shall come home--"

With a rush the impulsive girl, forgetting all but the apparentsuccess of her mission, threw herself upon him and clasped her armsabout his neck. "Oh, " she cried, "it is love that has done all this!And it has won you!"

The startled man strained the girl tightly in his arms. He could feelthe quick throbbing in her throat. Her warm breath played upon hischeek like fitful tropic breezes. For a brief moment the supreme giftof the universe seemed to be laid at his feet. For a fleeting intervalthe man of dust faded, and a new being, pure and white, seemed to risewithin him. 

"Yes, " he murmured gently, "we'll take him to our home with us. "

Slowly, very slowly, the girl released herself from his embrace andstepped back. "With--_us_?" she murmured, searching his face for themeaning which she had dimly discerned in his words. 

"Yes--listen!" He reached forward and with a quick movement seized herhand. "Listen, little girl. I want you--I want you! Not now--no, youneedn't come to me until you are ready. But say that you will come!Say that! Why, I didn't know until to-day what it was that was makingme over! It's you! Don't go! Don't--"

Carmen had struggled away from him, and, with a look of bewildermentupon her face, was moving toward the door. "Oh, I didn't know, " shemurmured, "that you were--were--proposing _marriage_ to me!"

"Don't you understand?" he pursued. "We'll just make all things new!We'll begin all over again, you and I! Why, I'll do anything--anythingin the world you say, Carmen, if you will come to me--if you will bemy little wife!

"I know--I know, " he hastily resumed, as she halted and stoodseemingly rooted to the floor, "there is a great difference in ourages. But that is nothing--many happy marriages are made between agesjust as far apart as ours. Think--think what it means to you! I'llmake you a queen! I'll surround you with limitless wealth! I'll makeyou leader of society! I'll make Madam Beaubien rich! I'll support theExpress, and make it what you want it to be! I'll do whatever you sayfor the people of Avon! Think, little girl, what depends now uponyou!"

Carmen turned and came slowly back to him. "And--you will not do thesethings--unless I marry you?" she said in a voice scarcely above awhisper. 

"I will do them all, Carmen, if you will come to me!"

"But--oh, you were only deceiving me all the time! And now--if Irefuse--then what?"

"It depends upon you, entirely--and you will come? Not now--but withinthe next few months--within the year--tell me that you will!"

"But--you will do these things whether I come to you or not?" shepersisted. 

"I've put it all into your hands, " he answered shortly. "I've namedthe condition. "

A strange look crossed the girl's face. She stood as if stunned. Thenshe glanced about in helpless bewilderment. 

"I--I--love--you, " she murmured, as she looked off toward the window, but with unseeing eyes. "I would do anything for you that was right. I--love--everybody--everybody; but there are no conditions to _my_love. Oh!" she suddenly cried, burying her face in her hands andbursting into tears. "You have tried to _buy_ me!"

Ames rose and came to her. Taking her by the hand he led her, unresisting, back to her chair. 

"Listen, " he said, bending toward her. "Go home now and think itall over. Then let me know your answer. It was sudden, I admit; Itook you by surprise. But--well, you are not going to prevent theaccomplishment of all that good, are you? Think! It all depends uponyour word!"

The girl raised her tear-stained face. She had been crushed; andanother lesson in the cruelty of the human mind--that human mind whichhas changed not in a thousand years--had been read to her. But againshe smiled bravely, as she wiped her eyes. 

"It's all right now, " she murmured. "It was all right all thetime--and I was protected. "

Then she turned to him. "Some day, " she said gently, and in a voicethat trembled just a little, "you will help the people of Avon, butnot because I shall marry you. God does not work that way. I haveloved you. And I love them. And nothing can kill that love. God willopen the way. "

"Then you refuse my offer, do you?" he asked sharply, as his face set. "Remember, all the blame will be upon you. I have shown you a wayout. "

She looked up at him. She saw now with a clairvoyance which separatedhim from the mask which he had worn. Her glance penetrated until itfound his soul. 

"You have shown me the depths of the carnal mind, " she slowly replied. "The responsibility is not with me, but with--God. I--I came to-dayto--to help you. But now I must leave you--with Him. "

"Humph!"

He stooped and took up her muff which lay upon the floor. As he did so, a letter fell out. He seized it and glanced at the superscription. 

"Cartagena! To Josè de Rincón! Another little _billet-doux_ to yourpriestly lover, eh?"

She looked down at the letter which he held. "It is money, " she said, though her thought seemed far away. "Money that I am sending to alittle newsboy who bears his name. "

"Ha! His brat! But, you still love that fallen priest?"

"Yes, " was the whispered answer. 

He rose and opened a drawer in his desk. Taking out a paper-boundbook, he held it out to the girl. "Look here, " he sneered. "Here's alittle piece of work which your brilliant lover did some time ago. 'Confessions of a Roman Catholic Priest. ' Do you know the penalty yourclerical paramour paid for that, eh? Then I'll tell you, " bending overclose to her ear, "his _life_!"

Carmen rose unsteadily. The color had fled from her cheeks. She staggereda few steps toward the door, then stopped. "God--is--is--_everywhere_!"she murmured. It was the refuge of her childhood days. 

Then she reeled, and fell heavily to the floor. 

CHAPTER 15

If additional proof of the awful cost of hating one's fellow-men wererequired, the strike which burst upon the industrial world that wintermust furnish it in sickening excess. But other facts, too, wererendered glaringly patent by that same desperate clash which made Avona shambles and transformed its fair name into a by-word, to be spokenonly in hushed whispers when one's thought dwells for a moment uponthe madness of the carnal mind that has once tasted blood. Theman-cleft chasm between labor and capital, that still unbridged voidwhich separates master and servant, and which a money-drunk classinsolently calls God-made, grows wider with each roar of musketryaimed by a frenzied militia at helpless men and women; grows deeperwith each splitting crack of the dynamite that is laid to tear asunderthe conscienceless wielder of the goad; and must one day fall gapingin a cavernous embouchure that will engulf a nation. 

Hitt saw it, and shuddered; Haynerd, too. Ames may have dimly markedthe typhoon on the horizon, but, like everything that manifestedopposition to this superhuman will, it only set his teeth the firmerand thickened the callous about his cold heart. Carmen saw it, too. And she knew--and the world must some day know--that but one tie hasever been designed adequate to bridge this yawning cañon of humanhatred. That tie is love. Aye, well she knew that the world laughed, and called it chimera; called it idealism, and emotional weakness. And well she knew that the most pitiable weakness the world has everseen was the class privilege which nailed the bearer of the creed oflove upon the cross, and to-day manifests in the frantic grasping of anation's resources, and the ruthless murder of those who ask thatthey, too, may have a share in that abundance which is the commonbirthright of all. Do the political bully, the grafter, the tout, knowthe meaning of love? No; but they can be taught. Oh, not by thehypocritical millionaire pietists who prate their glib platitudes totheir Sunday Bible classes, and return to their luxurious homes toorder the slaughter of starving women and babes! They, like their poorvictims, are deep under the spell of that mesmerism which tells themthat evil is good. Nor by the Church, with its lamentable weakness ofknowledge and works. Only by those who have learned something of theChrist-principle, and are striving daily to demonstrate itsomnipotence in part, can the world be taught a saving knowledge of thelove that solves every problem and creates a new heaven and a newer, better concept of the earth and its fullness. 

That morning when Carmen went to see Ames the Express received word ofthe walk-out of the Avon mill employes. Almost coincident with thearrival of the news, Carmen herself came unsteadily into Hitt'soffice. The editor glanced up at her, then looked a second time. Hehad never before seen her face colorless. Finally he laid down hispapers. 

"What's happened?" he asked. 

"Nothing, " answered the girl. "What work have you--for me--to-day?"She smiled, though her lips trembled. 

"Where have you been?" he pursued, scanning her closely. 

She did not reply at once. Then, so low that he scarcely caught thewords, "I--I have been with--a friend. "

Sidney Ames came puffing into the office at that moment. "Hello!" hecried as he saw Carmen. "How does it happen you're out riding withWillett? Saw him help you out of an auto just now. "

"He brought me here, " she answered softly. 

"Where from?"

"Your father's office. "

Hitt and the lad stared at her with open mouths. She turned, andstarted for her own room, moving as if in a haze. As she neared thedoor she stumbled. Sidney sprang after her and caught her in his arms. When she turned her face, they saw that her eyes were swimming intears. 

Hitt was on his feet instantly. "Look here!" he cried. "Something'swrong! Leave us, Sidney. Let me talk with her alone. "

The boy reluctantly obeyed. Hitt closed the door after him, then tookthe girl's hand and led her back to his own chair. "Now, little one, "he said gently, "tell me all about it. "

For a moment she sat quiet. Then the tears began to flow; and then sheleaned her head against him and sobbed--sobbed as does the strickenmother who hangs over the lifeless form of her babe--sobbed as doesthe strong man bereft of the friend of his bosom--sobbed as did theMan of Sorrow, when he held out his arms over the worldly city thatcruelly rejected him. He was the channel for the divine; yet thewickedness of the human mind broke his great heart. Carmen was not farfrom him at that moment. 

Hitt held her hand, and choked back the lump that filled his throat. Then the weeping slowly ceased, and the girl looked up into hisanxious face. 

"It's all past now, " she said brokenly. "Jesus forgave them thatkilled him. And--"

"You have been with--Ames?" said Hitt in a low, quiet tone. "And hetried to kill you?"

"He--he knew not what he was doing. Evil used him, because asyet he has no spiritual understanding. But--God is life! Thereis--no--death!" Her voice faded away in a whisper. 

"Well, little girl, I am waiting for the whole story. What happened?"

Carmen got to her feet. "Nothing happened, Mr. Hitt--nothing. Itdidn't happen--it wasn't real. I--I seemed to manifest weakness--and Ifell--to the floor--but I didn't lose consciousness. And just then Mr. Willett came in--and Mr. Ames sent me here with him. "

"But what had Ames said to you, Carmen?" persisted Hitt, his face darkwith anger. 

The girl smiled feebly. "I see Mr. Ames only as--as God's child, " shemurmured. "Evil is not real, and it doesn't happen. Now I want towork--work as I never did before! I must! _I must!_"

"Will you not tell me more about it?" he asked, for he knew now that adeadly thrust had been made at the girl's life. 

She brushed the tears away from her eyes. "It didn't happen, " was herreply. "Good is all that is. God is life. There is _no_ death!"

A suspicion flashed into Hitt's mind, kindled by the girl's insistenceupon the nothingness of death. "Carmen, " he asked, "did he tell youthat--some one had died?"

She came to him and laid her head against him. Her hands stole intohis. "Don't! Please, Mr. Hitt! We must never speak of this again!Promise me! I shall overcome it, for God is with me. Promise that noone but us shall know! Make Sidney promise. It--it is--for me. "

The man's eyes grew moist, and his throat filled. He drew the girl tohim and kissed her forehead. "It shall be as you wish, little one, " hesaid in a choking voice. 

"Now set me to work!" she cried wildly. "Anything! This is anotheropportunity to--to prove God! I must prove Him! I must--right here!"

He turned to his desk with a heavy heart. "There is work to be donenow, " he said. "I wonder--"

She took the telegram from his hands and scanned it. At once shebecame calm, her own sorrow swallowed up in selfless love. "Oh, theyhave gone out at Avon! Those mothers and children--they need me! Mr. Hitt, I must go there at once!"

"I thought so, " he replied, swallowing hard. "I knew what you woulddo. But you are in higher hands than mine, Carmen. Go home now, andget ready. You can go down in the morning. And we, Sidney and I, willsay nothing of--of your visit to his father. "

 * * * * *

That night Hitt called up the Beaubien and asked if he and Haynerdmight come and talk with her after the paper had gone to press, andrequesting that she notify Carmen and Father Waite. A few hours laterthe little group met quietly in the humble cottage. Miss Wall andSidney were with them. And to them all those first dark hours ofmorning, when as yet the symbol of God's omnipresence hung far belowthe horizon, seemed prescient with a knowledge of evil's furtherclaims to the lives and fortunes of men. 

"I have asked you here, " Hitt gravely announced when they wereassembled, "to consider a matter which touches us all--how deeply, Godalone knows. At ten o'clock to-night I received this message. " Heopened the paper which he held in his hand and read:

 "'Property of Hitt oil company, including derricks, pump houses, storage tanks, destroyed by fire. Dynamite in pump houses exploded, causing wells to cave and choke. Loss complete. Wire instructions. '"

The news burst over them like the cracking of a bomb. Haynerd, who, like the others, had been kept in ignorance of the message until now, started from his chair with a loud exclamation, then sank back limp. Carmen's face went white. Evil seemed to have chosen that day withcanny shrewdness to overwhelm her with its quick sallies from out thedarkness of the carnal mind. 

Hitt broke the tense silence. "I see in this, " he said slowly, "theculmination of a long series of efforts to ruin the Express. That myoil property was deliberately wrecked, I have not the slightest doubt. Nor can I doubt by whose hand. "

"Whose?" demanded Haynerd, having again found his voice. "Ames's?"

Hitt replied indirectly. "The Express has stood before the world as apaper unique and apart. And because of its high ideals, the forces ofevil singled it out at the beginning for their murderous assaults. That the press of this country is very generally muzzled, stifled, bought and paid for, I have good reason now to know. My constantbrushes with the liquor interests, with low politicians, judges, senators, and dive-keepers, have not been revealed even to you. Couldyou know the pressure which the Church, both Catholic and Protestant, has tried to exert upon us, you would scarce credit me with veracity. But the Express has stood out firm against feudalism, mediaevalism, and entrenched ecclesiasticism. It has fearlessly opposed thelegalizing of drugging. It has fought the debauching of a nation'smanhood by the legalized sale of a deadly poison, alcohol. And it hasfought without quarter the pernicious activity of morally stuntedbrewers and distillers, whose hellish motto is, 'Make the boys drink!'It has fought the money octopus, and again and again has sounded tothe world the peril which money-drunken criminals like Ames and hisclique constitute. And for that we must now wear the crown ofmartyrdom!"

Silence, dismal and empty, lay over the little room for a long time. Then Hitt resumed. "The Express has not been self-supporting. Itsgrowth has been steady, but it has depended for its deficit upon therevenue from my oil property. And so have we all. Ames ruined MadamBeaubien financially, as well as Miss Wall. He cleaned you out, Ned. And now, knowing that we all depended upon my oil wells, he has, Idoubt not, completely removed that source of income. "

"But, " exclaimed Haynerd, "your property was insured, wasn't it?"

"Yes, " replied Hitt, with a feeble attempt at a smile. "But with theproviso that dynamite should not be kept on the premises. You willnote that dynamite wrecked the wells. That doubtless renders mypolicies void. But, even in case I should have a fighting chance withthe insurance companies, don't you think that they will be advisedthat I purposely set fire to the wells, in order to collect theinsurance? I most certainly do. And I shall find myself with a biglawsuit on my hands, and with no funds to conduct the fight. Ames'swork, you know, is always thorough, and the Express is already facinghis suit for libel. "

"But you told us you were going to mortgage your property, " said MissWall. 

"I stood ready to, should the Express require it. But, with its recentlittle boom, our paper did not seem to need that as yet, " hereturned. 

"Good God!" cried Haynerd. "We're done for!"

"Yes, Ned, God _is_ good!" It was Carmen who spoke. 

Hitt turned quickly to the girl. "Can you say that, after all you haveendured, Carmen?"

He looked at her for a moment, lost in wonder. "An outcast babe, " hemurmured, "left on the banks of a great river far, far away; rearedwithout knowledge of father or mother, and amid perils that hourlythreatened to crush her; torn from her beloved ones and thrust outinto an unknown and unsympathetic world; used as a stepping-stone toadvance the low social ambitions of worldly women; blackened by thefoulest slander, and ejected as an outcast by those who had fawned ather feet; still going about with her beautiful message of love, eventhough knowing that her childhood home is enveloped in the flames ofwar, and her dear ones scattered, perhaps lost; spurned from the doorof the rich man whom she sought to save; carrying with her always theknowledge that the one upon whom her affections had centered had a sonin distant Cartagena, and yet herself contributing to the support ofthe little lad; and now, this morning--" He stopped, for he rememberedhis promise. 

"This morning, " she finished, "shielded by the One who is both Fatherand Mother to me. "

"That One surely ought to love you, Carmen--"

"He does, " she answered softly. 

"Well!" put in Haynerd, torn with anger and fear. "What are we goingto do now?"

"Everything, Ned, that error seems to tell us not to do, " replied thegirl. 

She reached over to the little table that stood near, and took from ita Bible. Opening it, she read aloud, very slowly, the entirefourteenth chapter of Exodus. Then she concluded by reading the lasttwo verses of the eighth chapter of Romans. 

"Now, " she said, looking up, "we know what we are going to do, don'twe? We are going right on, as 'seeing Him who is invisible' to menlike Mr. Ames. "

They sat looking at her in silence. 

"There is no curse, whether of the Church, or of business, or of anydepartment of human thought, that can overthrow legitimate business;and we are in the legitimate business of reflecting God to the world. If the physical sense of supply is now lost, we are fortunate, for nowwe are obliged to acquire a higher sense. All that we have comes fromGod. And we become aware of it in our own consciousness. It is therethat we interpret His supply. Mr. Ames interprets it one way; we, in avery different way. God has always been able to prepare a table in thewilderness of human thought. If we look for supply from without, weshall not find it, for everything is within. And the very fact thatthere is a legitimate demand shows that there is the supply to meetit, for--though the world hasn't learned this yet--_it is the supplyitself that really creates the demand_!"

"But money makes the wheels go!" retorted Haynerd. 

"Money, Ned, is the counterfeit of God. He is our only supply. He isour Principle--infinite, inexhaustible. He is our credit--withoutlimit! We are facing a crisis, but, like every seeming disturbance ofthe infinite harmony, it will vanish in a little while if we but clingto the divine Mind that is God for guidance. "

Hitt folded the telegram and returned it to his pocket. "Are you goingto Avon to-morrow?" he abruptly asked of the girl. 

"Yes, why not?"

"We can't afford it now!" cried Haynerd. 

Hitt reflected a moment. Then he rose. "And we sit here lamenting!" heexclaimed. "And when we have in our midst this girl, who has borne, without one word of complaint or reviling, the world's most poignantsorrows! I--I really regret that I told you of--of this telegram. Iseemed for a moment to be overwhelmed. But I am on my feet againnow!"

He reached into a pocket and took out some bills, which he handed toCarmen. "That will see you through for a day or so down there. If youneed more, wire me. I'll get it from some source! Come, " he added, beckoning to Haynerd, "the Express will be issued to-morrow as usual, and we must get to bed. I've really had quite a strenuous day!" Heturned, then paused and looked at Carmen. 

The girl caught the meaning in his glance, and went directly to thepiano. Hitt followed and bent over her. 

"Don't, " he said, "if you do not feel like it. This day has been ahard one for you, I know. And--"

"But I do feel like it, " she answered, smiling up at him. "I want tosing for you. And, " her voice dropped low, "I want to sing to--Him. "

Hitt gulped down something in his throat. "The bravest little girl inthe whole wide world!" he muttered through his set teeth. 

 * * * * *

The carnage at Avon was not incidental; it was the logical effect ofdefinite mental causes. It was the orderly sequence of an endlesstrain of hatred of man for man, bred of greed and the fear ofstarvation. And starvation is the externalized human belief that lifeis at the caprice of intelligent matter. But that is an infraction ofthe first Commandment, given when the human race was a babe. 

When the mill hands left their looms at evening of the day followingAmes's rejection of their demands, the master closed the doors behindthem and locked them out. Were not these mills his?

No, they were a sacred trust asset. 

Bah! The parrot-cry of the maudlin sentimental!

But, four thousand men, women, and little children, with never adollar beyond their earnings of the day, thrust out into the blasts ofthe bitterest winter the New England states had known in years!

True; but why, then, did they strike? For, you see, that of itselfproved the soundness of Ames's single reply to all further appeal:"There is nothing whatever to arbitrate. "

In the garden of the human mind waves many a flower, both black andred, fanned by the foul winds of carnal thought. There grow thebrothel, the dive, the gin-shop, the jail. About these hardier stemstwine the hospital, the cemetery, the madhouse, the morgue. And Satan, "the man-killer from the beginning, " waters their roots and makesfallow the soil with the blood of fools. But of those for whom thegardener waits, there is none whose blood is so life-giving to thesenoxious plants as that type of the materially rich who, like Ames, have waxed gross upon the flesh of their own brothers. 

Ames was a gambler in human lives. They were his chips, by which hegained or lost, and of themselves were void of intrinsic value. Theworld was the table whereon he played; the game _rouge et noir_, withthe whirl of predatory commercialism as the wheel, and the ballweighted to drop where he might direct. He carried millions on margin, and with them carried the destinies, for weal or for woe, of millionsof his fellow-men, with not one thought that he did so at the cost oftheir honor and morality, not less than their life-blood. 

It had been his custom to close his mills for several months eachyear, in order to save expense when times were dull. And he did thisas casually as he closed the doors of his stables, and with much lessthought for the welfare of those concerned. It is doubtful if he hadever really considered the fact that these four thousand human beingswere wholly dependent upon him for their very existence. For he was abusiness man, and gold was far weightier in the scale of values thanhuman flesh, and much less easily obtained. Cain's comfortingphilosophy was quite correct, else would the business world not havebeen so firmly established upon it. Besides, he was terribly busy; andhis life was lived upon a plane high, high above that upon which theseswarming toilers groveled with their snouts in the dust. 

And now, with the doors of his mills barred against the hungry hordes, he would frame the terms upon which they should be reopened. Theeight-hour law must not be enforced. Perhaps he could influence theSupreme Court to declare it unconstitutional, as depriving the millhands of the right to labor as long as they pleased. Wages should notbe raised. And the right to organize and band together for theircommon good would be contemptuously denied the ignorant rats whoshould be permitted to toil for him once more. If they offeredviolence, there was the state militia, armed and impatient to slay. Also, this was an excellent opportunity to stamp out trade-unionismwithin the confines of his activities. He would win the plaudits ofthe whole industrial world by so doing. He therefore immediately gotin touch with the Governor, a Tammany puppet, and received that loyalhenchman's warm assurances of hearty support for any measures whichthe great magnate might wish to enforce. He then approached theofficers of the state guard, and secured them to a man. Times werehard, and they welcomed his favor. He finally posted armed guards inall his buildings at Avon, and bade them remember that property rightswere of divine institution. Then he sat down and dictated the generalpolicy to be followed by the Amalgamated Spinners' Associationthroughout the country in support of his own selfish ends. 

His activity in these preparations, as in everything, was tremendous. His agents swarmed over the state like ants. The Catholic Archbishopwas instructed that he must remove Father Danny from Avon, as hisinfluence was pernicious. But the objection was made that the priestwas engaged only in humanitarian labors. It availed not; Ames desiredthe man's removal. And removed he was. The widow Marcus likewise hadbeen doing much talking. Ames's lawyer, Collins, had her haled intocourt and thoroughly reprimanded. And then, that matters might beprecipitated, and Congress duly impressed with the necessity ofaltering the cotton schedule in favor of the Spinners' Association, Ames ordered his agents to raise the rents of his miserable Avontenements. There were few, he knew, who dared even attempt to meet theraise; and those who could not, he ordered set into the streets. 

It was a wild winter's day that the magnate chose for the enforcementof this cruel order. A driving blizzard had raged throughout thenight, and the snow had banked up in drifts in places many feet deep. The temperature was freezing, and the strong east wind cut like aknife. It was Ames's desire to teach these scum a needed lesson, andhe had chosen to enlist the elements to aid him in the righteoustask. 

For a week, ever since the strike was declared, Carmen had lived amongthese hectored people. Daily her reports of the unbearable situationhad gone to Hitt. And through them the editor had daily striven toawaken a nation's conscience. Ames read the articles, and through thecolumns of the Budget sought to modify them to the extent of shiftingthe responsibility to the shoulders of the mill hands themselves, andto a dilatory Congress that was criminally negligent in so framing acotton tariff as to make such industrial suffering possible. Nor didhe omit to foully vilify the Express and calumniate its personnel. 

Amid curses, screams, and despairing wails, the satanic work ofejecting the tenement dwellers went on that day. Ames's hirelings, with loaded rifles, assisted the constables and city police in themiserable work, themselves cursing often because of the keen blaststhat nipped their ears and numbed their well-cased limbs. More thanone tiny, wailing babe was frozen at the breast that dull, drabafternoon, when the sun hung like a ghastly clot of human blood justabove the horizon, and its weird, yellow light flitted through thesnow-laden streets like gaunt spectres of death. More than one aged, toil-spent laborer, broken at the loom in the service of hisinsatiable master, fell prone in the drifts and lay there till histhin life-current froze and his tired heart stopped. More than onefrenzied, despairing father, forgetful for the moment of the divineright of property, rushed at a guard and madly strove with him, onlyto be clubbed into complaisance, or, perchance, be left in a welter ofcrimson on the drifting snow. Carmen saw it all. She had been to seePillette that same morning, and had been laughed from his presence. She did not understand, she was told, what miserable creatures thesewere that dared ask for bread and human rights. Wait; they themselveswould show their true colors. 

And so they did. And the color was red. And it spurted like fountainsfrom their veins. And they saw it with dimming eyes, and were glad, for it brought sweet oblivion. That night there were great firesbuilt along the frozen creek. Shacks and tents were hastily reared;and the shivering, trembling women and babes given a desperateshelter. Then the men, sullen and grim, drew off into little groups, and into the saloons and gambling halls of the town. And when theblizzard was spent, and the cold stars were dropping their frozenlight, these dull-witted things began to move, slowly at first, circling about like a great forming nebula, but gaining momentum andpower with each revolution. More than a thousand strong, they circledout into the frozen streets of the little town, and up along the mainthoroughfare. Their dull murmurs slowly gained volume. Their lowcurses welled into a roar. And then, like the sudden bursting ofpent-up lava, they swept madly through the town, carrying everythingto destruction before them. 

Stores, shops, the bank itself, burst open before this wave ofmaddened humanity. Guns and pistols were thrown from laden shelves tothe cursing, sweating mob below. Axes and knives were gathered byarmfuls, and borne out into the streets to the whirling mass. Greatbarrels of liquor were rolled into the gutters and burst asunder. Bread and meat were dragged from the shops and savagely devoured. Thepolice gathered and planted themselves with spitting pistols beforethe human surge. They went down like grass under stampeded cattle. Frightened clerks and operators rushed to the wires and sent wild, incoherent appeals for help to New York. Pandemonium had the reins, the carnal mind was unleashed. 

On rolled the mob, straight on to the massive stone house of Pillette, the resident manager of the great Ames mills. On over the high ironfence, like hungry dock rats. On through the battered gate. On up thebroad drive, shouting, shooting, moaning, raving. On over the veranda, and in through broken windows and shattered doors, swarming like fliesover reeking carrion, until the flames which burst through the peakedroof of the mansion drove them forth, and made them draw sullenly, protestingly away, leaving the tattered bodies of Pillette and hiswife and daughters to be consumed in the roaring furnace. 

Oh, ye workers, ye toilers at loom and forge, it is indeed you whobear the world's burdens! It is you who create the rich man's wealth, and fight his battles. So ye fought in the great war between North andSouth, and protected the rich man at home, hovering in fright over hismoney bags. It is you who put into his hands the bayonet which heturns against you to guard his wealth and maintain his iniquitousprivilege. It is indeed in your hands that the destinies of this greatnation lie; but what will ye do with your marvelous opportunity?What, with your stupendous, untried strength? Will ye once more set upthe golden calf, and prostrate yourselves before it? Will ye againenthrone ecclesiastical despotism, and grovel before image of Virginand Saint? Will ye raise high the powers of mediaeval darkness, andbend your necks anew to the yoke of ignorance and stagnation? Butthink you now that flames and dynamite will break your present bonds?Aye, America may be made a land without a pauper, without amillionaire, without industrial strife. But fire and sword will noteffect the transformation. Yes, perhaps, as has been said, our"comfortable social system and its authority will some day be blown toatoms. " But shall we then be better off than we are to-day? For shallwe know then how to use our precious liberty?

Blood-drunk and reeling, the mob turned from the flaming wreckage andflowed down toward the mills. There were some among them, saner, andprescient of the dire consequences of their awful work, who counseledrestraint. But they were as chips in a torrent. Down into the creekbottom rolled the seething tide, with a momentum that carried it upthe far side and crashing into the heavily barred oak doors of thegreat mills. A crushing hail of bullets fell upon them, and theirleaders went down; but the mass wavered not. Those within thebuildings knew that they would become carrion in the maws of theravening wolves outside, and fought with a courage fed withdesperation. 

In the solemn hush of death Socrates said, "The hour of departure hasarrived, and we go our ways, I to die and you to live. Which isbetter, God only knows. " And mankind through the ages in their lasthours have echoed this sentiment of the gentle philosopher. For allhuman philosophy leads to a single end--resignation. 

But hunger transforms resignation into madness. And madness is murder. The frenzied hordes swarming about the Ames mills knew in their heartof hearts that death was preferable to life in death under the goad ofhuman exploitation. But such knowledge came only in rational moments. Now they were crazed and beyond reason. 

In the distance, across the swale, the sky glowed red where the soulsof the agent of predatory wealth and his family had gone out inwithering heat. In the stricken town, men huddled their tremblingloved ones about them and stood with loaded muskets. Somewhere on thesteel bands that linked this scene of carnage with the greatmetropolis beyond, a train plunged and roared, leaping over thequivering rails at the rate of a hundred miles an hour, bringing eagermilitiamen and their deadly instruments of civilization. For the Amesmills were private property. And that was a divine institution. 

 * * * * *

In his luxurious office in the tower of the Ames building the mastersat that black night, surrounded by his laboring cohorts. Though theystrained under the excitement of the hour, Ames himself remained calmand determined. He was in constant communication with the Governor atAlbany, and with the municipal officers of both New York and Avon. Hehad received the tidings of the destruction of the Pillette familywith a grim smile. But the smile had crystallized into an expressionof black, malignant hatred when he demanded of the Governor that theNew York contingent of the state guard be sent at once to protect hisproperty, and specified that the bullets used should be of the"dum-dum" variety. For they added to the horrors of death. Suchbullets had been prohibited by the rules of modern warfare, it wastrue. But this was a class war. And Ames, foreseeing it all, hadpurchased a hundred thousand rounds of these hellish things for themilitia to exchange for those which the Government furnished. Andthen, as an additional measure of precaution, he had sent Hood andCollins into the United States District Court and persuaded thesitting judge to issue an injunction, enjoining any possible reliefcommittees from furnishing food and shelter to such as might enter theindustrial conflict being waged against him. 

Had the man gone mad? That he had! And in the blood-red haze that hungbefore his glittering eyes was framed the face of the girl who hadspurned him but a few days before. She was the embodiment of love thathad crossed his path and stirred up the very quintessence of evilwithin him. From the first she had drawn him. From the first she hadaroused within his soul a conflict of emotions such as he had neverknown before. And from the night when, in the Hawley-Crowles box atthe opera he had held her hand and looked down into her fathomlesseyes, he had been tortured with the conflicting desires to possessthat fair creature, or to utterly destroy her. 

But always she had eluded him. Always she hovered just within hisgrasp; and then drew back as his itching fingers closed. Always shetold him she loved him--and he knew she lied not. But such love wasnot his kind. When he loved, he possessed and used. And such love hadits price--but not hers. And so hope strove with wrath, and chagrinwith despair. She was a babe! Yet she conquered him. He was omnipotentin this world! Her strength she drew from the world invisible. Andwith it she had laid the giant low and bound him with chains. 

Not so! Though he knew now that she was lost to him forever; thoughwith foul curses he had seen hope flee; yet with it he had also biddenevery tender sentiment, every last vestige of good depart from histhought forever more. And:

 "----with hope, farewell fear, Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost; Evil, be thou my good!"

That same night Hitt's wells burned. And that night the master sleptnot, but sat alone at his desk in the great Fifth Avenue mansion, andplotted the annihilation of every human being who had dared oppose hisworldly ambitions. Plotted, too, the further degradation and finalruin of the girl who had dared to say she loved him, and yet would notbecome his toy. 

 * * * * *

There is no need to curse the iniquitous industrial and social systemupon which the unstable fabric of our civilization rests, for thatsystem is its own fell curse in the rotting fruit it bears. A bit ofthat poisonous fruit had now dropped from the slimy branch at Avon. Upfrom the yards came the militiamen at double-quick, with riflesunslung and loaded with the satanic Ames bullets. Behind them theydragged two machine guns, capable of discharging three hundred times aminute. The mob had concentrated upon the central building of the millgroup, and had just gained entrance through its shattered doors. Before them the guards were falling slowly back, fighting every inchof the way. The dead lay in heaps. The air was thick with powdersmoke. One end of the building was in flames. The roar of battle wasdeafening. 

Quickly swinging into action, the militia opened upon the mill hands. Hemmed in between two fires, the mob broke and fled down the frozenstream. The officers of the guard then ordered their men to join inthe work of extinguishing the flames, which were beginning to makeheadway, fanned by the strong draft which swept through the longbuilding. Until dawn they fought the stubborn fire. Then, the buildingsaved, they pitched their tents and sought a brief rest. 

At noon the soldiers were again assembled, for there remained the taskof arresting the leaders of the mob and bringing them to justice. Thetown had been placed under martial law with the arrival of themilitia. Its streets were patrolled by armed guards, and a strongcordon had been thrown around the shacks which the mill hands hadhastily erected the afternoon before. And now, under the protection ofa detachment of soldiers, the demand was made for the unconditionalsurrender of the striking laborers. 

Dull terror lay like a pall over the miserable shacks huddled alongthe dead stream. It was the dull, hopeless, numbing terror of thevictim who awaits the blow from the lion's paw in the arena. Weepingwives and mothers, clasping their little ones to them, knelt upon thefrozen ground and crossed themselves. Young men drew their newly-wedmates to their breasts and kissed them with trembling lips. Stern, hard-faced men, with great, knotted hands, grouped together and lookedout in deadly hatred at the heartless force surrounding them. 

Then out from among them and across the ice went Carmen, up theslippery hillside, and straight to the multi-mouthed machine gun, atthe side of which stood Major Camp. She had been all night with thesebewildered, maddened people. She had warmed shivering babes at her ownbreast. She had comforted widows of a night, and newly-bereavedmothers. She had bound up gaping wounds, and had whispered tenderwords of counsel and advice. And they had clung to her weeping; theyhad called upon Virgin and Saint to bless her; and they named her theAngel of Avon--and the name would leave her no more. 

"Take me, " she said, "take me into court, and let me tell all. "

The major fell back in amazement. This beautiful, well-clad girl amongsuch miserable vermin!

"You have demanded their leaders, " she continued. "I have been tryingto lead them. Leave them, and take me. "

The major's eyes roved over her face and figure. He could make nothingout of her words, but he motioned to an aid, and bade him place thegirl under arrest. 

A wild shout then rose from the shacks, as Carmen moved quietly awayunder guard. It was the last roar of raging despair. The girl wasbeing taken from them! A dozen men sprang out and rushed, muskets inhand, up toward the soldiers to liberate her. The major called to themto halt. Poor, dull-witted creatures! Their narrow vision couldcomprehend but one thing at a time; and they saw in the arrest of thegirl only an additional insult piled upon their already mountainousinjuries. 

The major shouted a command. A roar burst from the soldiers' rifles. It was answered by a shriek of rage from the hovels, and a murderousreturn fire. Then the major gave another loud command, and the machineguns began to vomit forth their clattering message of death. 

At the sound of shooting, Carmen's guard halted. Then one of themfell, pierced by a bullet from the strikers. The others released thegirl, and hurried back to the battle line. Carmen stood alone for amoment. Bullets whizzed close about her. 

One sang its death-song almost in her ear. Another tore through hercoat. Then she turned and made her way slowly up the hill to theparalyzed town. 

Down in the vale beneath, Death swung his scythe with long, sweepingstrokes. The two machine guns poured a flaming sheet of lead into thelittle camp below. The shacks fell like houses of cards. The tentscaught fire, and were whirled blazing aloft by the brisk wind. Mendropped like chaff from a mill. Hysterical, screaming women rushedhither and yon to save their young, and were torn to shreds by themerciless fusillade from above. Babes stood for a moment bewildered, and then sank with great, gaping wounds in their little, quiveringbodies. And over all brooded the spirit of the great manipulator, Ames, for the protection of whose sacred rights such ghastly work isdone among civilized men to-day. 

 * * * * *

That night, while the stars above Avon drew a veil of gray betweenthem and the earth below, that they might not see the red embers andstark bodies, Carmen came slowly, and with bent head, into the officeof the Express. As she approached Hitt's door she heard him in earnestconversation with Haynerd. 

"Yes, " the editor was saying, "I had a mortgage placed on the Expressto-day, but I couldn't get much. And it's a short-term one, at that. Stolz refused point blank to help us, unless we would let him dictatethe policy of the paper. No, he wouldn't buy outright. He's stillfighting Ames for control of C. And R. And I learn, too, that theKetchim case is called for next week. That probably means an attemptby Ames to smoke Stolz out through Ketchim. It also means thatCarmen--"

"Yes; what about her?"

"That she will be forced to go upon the stand as a witness. "

"Well?"

"And that, as I read it, means a further effort on Ames's part toutterly discredit her in the eyes of the world, and us through herassociation with the Express. "

"But--where is she, Hitt? No word from her since we got the news ofthe massacre at Avon this afternoon! Nothing happened to her, do youthink?"

Hitt's face was serious, and he did not answer. Then Carmen herselfcame through the open door. Both men rose with exclamations ofgladness to welcome her. The girl's eyes were wet, and her wontedsmile had gone. 

"Mr. Hitt, " she said, "I want a thousand dollars to-night. "

"Well!" Hitt and Haynerd both sat down hard. 

"I must go back to Avon to-morrow, " she announced. "And the money isfor the--the people down there. " Her voice caught, and her wordsstumbled. 

The two men looked at each other blankly. Then Hitt reached out andtook her hand. "Tell us, " he said, "about the trouble there to-day. "

Carmen shook her head. "No, " she said, "we will not talk about evil. You--you have the money? A thousand--"

"I have that much on deposit in the bank now, Carmen, " he repliedgravely. His thought was on the mortgage which he had signed thatmorning. 

"Then write me a check at once, and I will deposit it in the Avon bankwhen I get there to-morrow. I must go home now--to see mother. "

"But--let me think about it, Carmen. Money is--well, won't less thanthat amount do you?"

"No, Mr. Hitt. Write the check now. "

Hitt sighed, but made no further protest. If the Express must founder, then this money were well spent on the stricken people of Avon. Hetook out his book, and immediately wrote the check and handed it tothe girl. 

"Hitt, " said Haynerd, after Carmen had left them and he had exhaustedhis protests over the size of the check, "something's killing thatgirl! And it isn't only the trouble at Avon, either! What is it? Ibelieve you know. "

Hitt shook his head. "She's no longer in this world, Ned. She left ittwo days ago. "

"Eh? Say! News about that Rincón fellow?"

But Hitt would say nothing to further illuminate his cryptic remark, and Haynerd soon switched to the grim topic of the industrial war inprogress at Avon. 

"What are we coming to?" he cried. "What's going to be the end? Asocial and industrial system such as ours, which leaves the masses tostarve and consume with disease under intolerable burdens, that ahandful may rot in idleness and luxury, marks us in this latestcentury as hopelessly insane!"

"Well, Ned, whence came the idea, think you, that it is divine justicefor a majority of the people on earth to be poor in order that a fewmay be rich? And how are we going to get that perverted idea out ofthe minds of men? Will legislation do it?"

"Humph!" grunted Haynerd. "Legislation arouses no faith in me! We aresuffering here because, in our immensely selfish thought of ourselvesonly, we have permitted the growth of such men as Ames, and allowedthem to monopolize the country's resources. Heavens! Futuregenerations will laugh themselves sick over us! Why, what sane excuseis there for permitting the commonest necessities of life to bejuggled with by gamblers and unmoral men of wealth? How can we ask tobe considered rational when we, with open eyes, allow 'corners' onfoodstuffs, and permit 'wheat kings' to amass millions by corrallingthe supply of grain and then raising the price to the point where thepoor washerwoman starves? Lord! We are a nation gone mad! Theexistence of poverty in a country like America is not only proofpositive that our social system is rotten to the core, but that ourreligion is equally so! As a people we deserve to be incarcerated inasylums!"

"A considerable peroration, Ned, " smiled Hitt. "And yet, one that Ican not refute. The only hope I see is in a radical change in themental attitude of the so-called enlightened class--and yet they arethe very worst offenders!"

"Sure! Doesn't the militia exist for men like Ames? To-day's work atAvon proves it, I think!"

"Apparently so, Ned, " returned Hitt sadly. "And the only possibilityof a change in enlightened people is through a better understanding ofwhat is really good and worth while. That means real, practicalChristianity. And of that Ames knows nothing. "

"Seems to me, Hitt, that it ought to stagger our preachers to realizethat nineteen centuries of their brand of Christianity have scarcelyeven begun to cleanse society. What do you suppose Borwell thinks, anyway?"

"Ned, they still cling to human law as necessarily a compellinginfluence in the shaping of mankind's moral nature. "

"And go right on accepting the blood-stained money of criminalbusiness men who have had the misfortune to amass a million dollars!And, more, they actually hold such men up as patterns for the youth toemulate! As if the chief end of endeavor were to achieve the gloriousmanhood of an Ames! And he a man who is deader than the corpses hemade at Avon to-day!"

"The world's ideal, my friend, has long been the man who succeeds ineverything except that which is worth while, " replied Hitt. "But wehave been bidden to come out from the world, and be separate. Is itnot so?"

"Y--e--s, of course. But I can't take my thought from Avon--"

"And thereby you emphasize your belief in the reality of evil. "

"Well--look at us! The Express stands for righteousness. And now weare a dead duck!"

"Then, if that is so, why not resign your position, Ned? Go seek workelsewhere. "

"No, sir! Not while the Express has a leg to stand on! Your words arean offense to me, sir!"

Hitt rose and clapped his friend heartily on the back. "Ned, old man!You're a jewel! Things do look very dark for us, if we look only withthe human sense of vision. But we are trying to look at the invisiblethings within. And there is only perfection there. Come, we must getto work. The Express still lives. "

"But--Carmen?"

Hitt turned and faced him. "Ned, Carmen is not in our hands. She isnow completely with her God. We must henceforth wait on Him. "

 * * * * *

On the following afternoon at three a little group of Avon mill handscrept past the guards and met in Father Danny's Mission, down in thesegregated vice district. They met there because they dared not gothrough the town to the Hall. Father Danny was with them. He hadslipped into town the preceding night, and remained in hiding throughthe day. And Carmen was with them, too. She had gone first to theHall, and then to the Mission, when she arrived again in the littletown. And after she had deposited Hitt's check in the bank she hadasked Father Danny to call together some of the older and moreintelligent of the mill hands, to discuss methods of disbursing themoney. 

Almost coincident with her arrival had come an order from Ames toapprehend the girl as a disturber of the peace. The hush of death layover Avon, and even the soldiers now stood aghast at their own bloodywork of the day before. Carmen had avoided the main thoroughfares, andhad made her way unrecognized. At a distance she saw the town jail, heavily guarded. Its capacity had been sorely taxed, and many of theprisoners had been crowded into cold, cheerless store rooms, andplaced under guards who stood ready to mow them down at the slightestthreatening gesture. 

"It's come, Miss Carmen!" whispered Father Danny, after he had quietlygreeted the girl. "It's come! It may be the beginning of the greatrevolution we've all known wasn't far off! I just _had_ to get backhere! They can only arrest me, anyway. And, oh, God! my poor, poorpeople!"

He sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. But soon hesprang to his feet. "No time for mollycoddling!" he exclaimed. "Come, men, we'll give you checks, and do you get food for the babies. Only, don't buy of the company stores!"

"We'll have to, Father, " said one of them. "It's dangerous not to. "

"But they've never taken cash from you there, ye know. Only your payscrip. "

"Aye, Father, and they've discounted that ten per cent each time. Butif we bought at other stores we were discharged. And now we'd beblacklisted. "

"Ah, God, that's true!" exclaimed the priest. "But now then, MissCarmen, we'll begin. "

For an hour the girl wrote small checks, and the priest handed themout to the eager laborers. They worked feverishly, for they knew thatat any moment they might be apprehended. 

"Ah, you men!" cried Father Danny, at last unable to restrain himself. "Did ye but know that this grand nation is wholly dependent on such asyou, its common people! Not on the rich, I say, the handful that ownits mills and mines, but on you who work them for your rich masters!But then, ye're so ignorant!"

"Don't, Father!" pleaded Carmen, "don't! They have suffered so much!"

"Ah, lass, it's but love that I'm dealin' out to 'em, God knows! Andyet, it's they that are masters of the situation, only they don't knowit! There's the pity! They've no leaders, except such as waste theirmoney and leave 'em in the ditch! The world's social schemes, MissCarmen, don't reach such as these. They're only sops. And they've gotthe contempt of the wage-earners. "

"The Church, Father, could do much for these people, if--"

"Don't hesitate, Miss Carmen. You mean, if we didn't give all ourthought to the rich, eh? But still, it's wholly up to the peoplethemselves, after all. And, mark me, when they do rise, why, such menas Ames won't know what's hit 'em!"

The door was thrown violently open at that moment, and a squad ofsoldiers under the command of a lieutenant entered. 

Carmen and Father Danny rose and faced them. The mill hands stood likestone images, their faces black with suppressed rage. The lieutenanthalted his men, and then advanced to the girl. 

"Is a woman named Carmen Ariza here?" he demanded rudely. 

"I am she, " replied the fearless girl. 

"Come with us, " he said in a rough voice. 

"That she will not!" cried Father Danny, suddenly pulling the girlback and thrusting himself before her. 

The lieutenant raised his hand. The soldiers advanced. The mill handsquickly formed about the girl. And then, with a yell of rage, theythrew themselves upon the soldiers. 

For a few minutes the little room was a bedlam. The crazed strikersfought without weapons, except such as they could wrest from thesoldiers. But they fought to the death. One of them seized Carmen andthrew her beneath the table at which she had been working. Above herraged the desperate conflict. The shouting and cursing might have beenheard for blocks around. Father Danny stood in front of the table, beneath which lay the girl. He strove desperately to maintain hisposition, that he might protect her, meantime frantically calling tothe mill hands to drag her out to the rear, and escape by the backdoor. 

In the midst of the _mêlée_ a soldier mounted a chair near the doorand raised his rifle. The shot roared out, and Father Danny pitchedforward to the floor. Another shot, and still another followed inquick succession. The strikers fell back. Confusion seized them. Thenthey turned and fled precipitately through the rear exit. 

The lieutenant dragged Carmen from beneath the table and out throughthe door. Then, assembling his men, he gave an order, and they marchedaway with her up the icy street to the town jail. 

CHAPTER 16

With the wreckage which he had wrought strewn about him, J. WiltonAmes sat at his rich desk far above the scampering human ants in thestreets below and contemplated the fell work of his own hands. Andoften and anon as he looked, great beads of perspiration welled outupon his forehead, and his breath came hot and dry. In the wastebasket at his feet lay crumpled the newspapers with their shrieking, red-lettered versions of the slaughter at Avon. He was not a coward, this man! But he had pushed that basket around the desk out of hissight, for when he looked at it something rose before him that sent achill to his very soul. At times his vision blurred; and then hepassed his hands heavily across his eyes. He had chanced to read inthe grewsome accounts of the Avon massacre that little children hadbeen found among those fallen shacks, writhing in their last agonies. And the reports had said that great, red-dripping holes had beenripped in their thin little bodies by those awful "dum-dum" bullets. God! Why had he used them? And why had the demoniac soldiers downthere blown the brains from harmless women and helpless babes? Hereally had not intended to go so far!

And yet, he had! Curse them! The brats would have grown up to opposethe vested privileges of the rich! They, too, would have becomeanarchists and rioters, bent on leveling the huge industrial fabricwhich such as he had so laboriously erected under the legal protectionafforded their sacred rights! He had done well to remove them now! Andthe great captains of industry would thank him for the example he hadthus fearlessly set!

To think of Avon was for him now to think in terms of blood. And yethis carnal soul hourly wrestled sore with thoughts of a whollydifferent stamp; with those strange emotions which he had felt when inCarmen's presence; with those unfamiliar sentiments which, had he notfought them back so bitterly, might have made him anew, and--

But the remembrance maddened him. His face grew black, and his mouthpoured forth a torrent of foul imprecations and threats upon her andupon those who stood with her. His rage towered again. He smote thedesk with his great fist. He fumed, he frothed, he hurled reason fromits throne, and bade the Furies again become his counselors. 

Upon the desk before him lay the mortgage papers which Hitt hadsigned. He had bought the mortgage from the bank which had loaned theExpress the money. He would crush that sheet now, crush it until theink dripped black from its emasculated pages! And when it fell intohis hands, he would turn it into the yellowest of sensationaljournals, and hoot the memory of its present staff from ocean toocean!

Then, his head sunk upon his breast, he fell to wondering if he mightnot secure a mortgage upon the Beaubien cottage, and turn itsoccupants into the street. Ah, what a power was money! It was thelever by which he moved the world, and clubbed its dull-wittedinhabitants into servile obeisance! Who could stand against him--

That girl!

He sprang to his feet and called Hood. That obedient lackey hastenedinto his master's presence. 

"The Ketchim trial?" snarled Ames. 

"Called for this week, sir, " replied Hood, glad that the announcementcould not possibly offend his superior. 

"Humph! The--that girl?"

"Brought up from Avon, and lodged in the Tombs, sir. "

"You tell Judge Spencer that if he allows her bail I'll see that hisfederal appointment is killed, understand?"

"You may rely upon him, sir. "

Ames regarded the man with a mixture of admiration and utter contempt. For Hood stood before him a resplendent example of the influence ofthe most subtle of all poisons, the insidious lure of money. Soul andbody he had prostituted himself and his undoubted talents to it. Andnow, were he to be turned adrift by Ames, the man must inevitably sinkinto oblivion, squeezed dry of every element of genuine manhood, andweighted with the unclean lucre for which his bony fingers had alwaysitched. 

"Will Cass defend Ketchim?" the master asked. 

"Oh, doubtless. He knows most about the formation of the defunctSimití company. "

"Well, see him and--you say he's young, and got a wife and baby? Offerhim twenty-five thousand to quit the case. "

"I'm afraid it wouldn't do, sir, " returned Hood, shaking his headdubiously. "I've had men talking with him regarding the trial, andhe--"

"Then get him over here. I'll see if I can't persuade him, " growledAmes in an ugly tone. 

Hood bowed and went out. A few minutes later Reverend Darius Borwellwas ushered into the financier's private office. 

"Mr. Ames, " cried that gentleman of the cloth, "it's shocking, terribly so, what those unbridled, unprincipled mill hands have drawnupon themselves down in Avon! Goodness! And four members of the Churchof the Social Revolution came to my study last evening and demandedthat I let them speak to my congregation on the coming Sabbath!"

"Well?"

"Why, I told them certainly not! My church is God's house! And I shallhave policemen stationed at the doors next Sunday to maintain order!To think that it has come to this in America! But, Mr. Ames, is yourhouse guarded? I would advise--"

"Nobody can get within a block of my house, sir, without ringing aseries of electric bells, " replied Ames evenly. "I have fifty guardsand private detectives in attendance in and about my premises all thetime. My limousine has been lined with sheet steel. And my every stepis protected. I am not afraid for my life. I simply want to keep goinguntil I can carry out a few plans I have in hand. " His thought hadreverted again to the fair girl in the Tombs. 

"But now, Borwell, " he continued, "I want to talk with you aboutanother matter. I am drawing up my will, and--"

"Why, my dear Mr. Ames! You are not ill?"

Ames thought of his physician's constantly iterated warning; but shookhis head. "I may get caught in this Avon affair, " he said evasively. "And I want to be prepared. The President has sent his message toCongress, as you may be aware. There are unpleasant suggestions in itregarding dispossession in cases like my own. I'm coming back bymagnanimously willing to Congress a hundred millions, to stand as afund for social uplift. "

"Ah!" sighed the clergyman. Great was Mammon!

"But the little matter I wish to discuss with you is the sum that I amsetting aside for the erection of a new church edifice, " continuedAmes, eying the minister narrowly. 

"You don't mean it!" cried that worthy gentleman, springing up andclasping the financier's hand. "Mr. Ames! So magnanimous! Ah--theamount?"

"Well, will half a million do?" suggested Ames. 

The minister reflected a moment. One should not be too precipitate inaccepting tentative benefactions. "Ah--we really should have--ah--atrifle more, Mr. Ames. There's the settlement home, and the commons, you know, and--"

"Humph! Well, we'll start with half a million, " replied Ames dryly. "By the way, you know Jurges, eh? Reverend William Jurges? Er--haveyou any particular influence with him, if I may ask?" His sharp eyesbored straight through the wondering divine. 

"Why--yes--yes, I know the gentleman. And, as for influence--well, Imay--"

"Yes, just so, " put in Ames. "Now there is a trial coming up thisweek, and Jurges will be called to the stand. I want you to give himthe true facts in regard to it. I'll call Hood, and we'll go over themin detail now. Then you see Jurges this afternoon, and--say, he'sraising a building fund too, isn't he?"

The magnate summoned Hood again; and for an hour the trio discussedthe forthcoming trial of the unfortunate Philip O. Ketchim. Then Amesdismissed the clergyman, and bade his office boy admit the younglawyer, Cass, who had come in response to Hood's request. 

For some moments after Cass entered the office Ames stood regardinghim, studying what manner of man he was, and how best to approach him. Then he opened the conversation by a casual reference to theunsatisfactory business situation which obtained throughout thecountry, and expressed wonder that young men just starting in theirprofessions managed to make ends meet. 

"But, " he concluded with deep significance, "better go hungry thantake on any class of business which, though promising good moneyreturns, nevertheless might eventually prove suicidal. " He looked hardat the young lawyer when he paused. 

"I quite agree with you, Mr. Ames, " returned Cass. "But as I amparticularly busy this morning, may I ask why you have sent for me?Have you anything that I can--"

"I have, " abruptly interrupted the financier. "We need additions toour legal staff. I thought perhaps you might like to talk over thematter with me, with a view to entering our employ. "

"Why, Mr. Ames, I--I have never thought of--" The young man's eyesglistened. 

"Well, suppose you think of it now, " said Ames, smiling graciously. "Ihave heard considerable about you of late, and I must say I ratherlike the way you have been handling your work. "

Cass looked at him with rising wonder. The work which he had beendoing of late was most ordinary and routine, and called for no displayof legal skill whatever. Suspicions slowly began to rise. 

"I'd hate to see you tackle anything at this stage of your career, Mr. Cass, that would bring discredit upon you. And I am afraid yourassociation with Ketchim is going to do just that. But possibly you donot intend to handle further business for him?"

Ketchim, though long confined in the Tombs, had at length securedbail, through the not wholly disinterested efforts of his uncle, Stolz, the sworn enemy of Ames. And, because of his loyal efforts inbehalf of Ketchim, Stolz had insisted that Cass be retained as counselfor the latter when his trial should come up. 

"I'll tell you what I'll do, Mr. Cass, " said Ames suddenly. "Mr. Hoodwill take you on at a salary of, say, five thousand to start with. We'll try you out for a few weeks. Then, if we don't mutually fit, why, we'll quietly separate and say nothing. How about it?"

Cass thought hard. Half of that salary would have looked large to himthen. But--

"May I ask, " he slowly said in reply, "what class of work Mr. Hoodwould give me to start with?"

"Why, nothing of great importance, perhaps, while you are getting intothe harness. Possibly court work, as a starter. You've had experiencein that, eh?"

Cass reflected again. The temptation was tremendous. That little housewhich he had passed and stopped to look at so wistfully every night onhis way home was now within his grasp. 

He glanced up at the great man, sitting so calmly before him. Then hethought suddenly of Avon. Then of Carmen. 

"Mr. Ames, " he said, "if I enter your employ, it must be with thestipulation that I shall have nothing to do with the Ketchim trial. "

Ames's face went suddenly dark. "If you enter my employ, sir, it willbe with the stipulation that you do as I say, " he returned coldly. 

And then the young lawyer saw through the mask. And his anger flamedhigh at what he discerned behind it. He rose and faced the great man. 

"Mr. Ames, " said he, "you have made a mistake. I am poor, and I needbusiness. But I have not as yet fallen so completely under the spellof fortune-hunting as to sell my honor to a man like you! To enteryour employ, I now see, would mean the total loss of character andself respect. It would mean a lowering of my ideals, whatever they maybe, to your own vulgar standard. I may have done wrong in becomingassociated with Mr. Ketchim. In fact, I know that I have. But Ipledged myself to assist him. And yet, in doing so, I scarcely canblacken my reputation to the extent that I should were I to becomeyour legal henchman. I want wealth. But there are some terms uponwhich even I can not accept it. And your terms are among them. I bidyou good morning. "

Ames gave a snort of anger when Cass went out. Summoning Hood, hevented his great wrath upon that individual's bald pate. "And now, " heconcluded, "I want that fellow Cass so wound up that he will sneak offto a lonely spot and commit suicide! And if you can't do it, then I'llaccept your resignation!"

"Very well, sir, " replied Hood. "And, by the way, Mr. Ames, I havejust learned that Judge Harris, father of the young man who came upwith that girl, is in Colombia. Seems that he's taken some wealthy mandown there to look at La Libertad mine. "

"What!" Ames's eyes snapped fire. 

"They believe you put one over on Ketchim, with the help of MonsignorLafelle, and so they've gone down to get titles to that mine. "

"By G--"

"And they say that--"

"Never mind what they say!" roared Ames. "Cable Wenceslas at once tosee that those fellows remain permanently in Colombia. He has ways ofaccomplishing that. Humph! Fools! Judge Harris, eh? Ninny! I guessWenceslas can block his little game!"

His great frame shook slightly as he stood consuming with rage, and aslight hemorrhage started from his nostrils. He turned to thelavatory. And as he walked, Hood thought his left foot draggedslightly. But the lawyer made no comment. 

 * * * * *

And then, with the way well cleared, came the Ketchim trial, which hasgone down in history as containing the most spectacular _dénoûement_in the record of legal procedure in the New World. Had it beenconcerned, as was anticipated, only with routine legal procedureagainst the man Ketchim, a weak-souled compound of feeble sycophancyand low morals, it would have attracted slight attention, and wouldhave been spread upon the court records by uninterested clerks withnever a second thought. But there were elements entering into it ofwhose existence the outside world could not have even dreamed. Into itconverged threads which now may be traced back to scenes and events inthree continents; threads whose intricate windings led throughtrackless forest and dim-lit church; through court of fashion and hutof poverty; back through the dark mazes of mortal thought, where nolight shines upon the carnal aims and aspirations of the human mind;back even to the doors of a palace itself, even to the proudest throneof the Old World. 

But none of these elements found expression in the indictment againstthe frightened defendant, the small-visioned man who had sought toimitate the mighty Ames, and yet who lacked sufficient intelligence ofthat sort which manifests in such a perversion of skill and power. Ames was a tremendous corruptionist, who stood beyond the laws simplybecause of the elemental fact that he himself made those laws. Ketchimwas a plain deceiver. And his deception was religious fervor. Minglinghis theology with fraud, he employed the unholy alliance for thepurpose of exploiting the credulous who attended his prayer meetingsand commented with bated breath upon his beautiful showing ofreligious zeal. He was but one of a multitude afflicted with the"dollar mania. " His misfortune was that his methods were so antiquethat they could not long fail of detection. And it was because of hisuse of the mails for the purpose of deceit that the indictment hadbeen drawn against Philip O. Ketchim _et al. _ by the long-suffering, tolerant complainant, called the people. 

Nominally the people's interests were in the hands of the PublicProsecutor, a certain smug young worldling named Ellis. But, as thatgentleman owed his appointment to Ames, it is not surprising that athis right hand sat Hood and his well trained staff. Nominally, too, Judge Spencer conducted the trial strictly upon its merits, not all ofwhich lay with the people. But the judge might have been stillprosecuting petty cases back in the unknown little district fromwhich he came, had it not been for the great influence of Ames, longsince, who had found him on a certain occasion useful. And so the jurypanel contained none but those who, we may be very sure, were amenableto the tender pressure of a soft hand lined with yellow gold. And onlythose points of evidence were sustained which conduced to theincrimination of the miserable defendant. Ketchim was doomed beforethe trial began. 

And yet, to subserve the dark schemes of Ames, and to lengthen theperiod of torture to which his victims should be subjected, the trialwas dragged through many days. Besides, even he and his hirelings werebound to observe the formalities. 

It was at the suggestion of Cass that no effort had been made toprocure bail for Carmen after her arrest. The dramatic may always berelied upon to carry a point which even plain evidence negatives. Andshe, acquiescing in the suggestion, remained a full two weeks in theTombs before Ames's eager counsel found their opportunity to confronther on the witness stand and besmirch her with their black charges. The Beaubien was prostrated. But, knowing that for her another hour ofhumiliation and sorrow had come, she strove mightily to summon herstrength for its advent. Father Waite toiled with Cass day and night. Hitt and Haynerd, without financial resources, pursued their way, grimand silent. The Express was sinking beneath its mountainous load. Andthey stood at the helm, stanch to their principles, not yielding aniota to offers of assistance in exchange for a reversal of the policyupon which the paper had been launched. 

"We're going down, Hitt, " said Haynerd grimly. "But we go with theflag flying at the mast!"

Yet Hitt answered not. He was learning to know as did Carmen, and tosee with eyes which were invisible. 

It was just when the jury had been impaneled, after long days of pettywrangling and childish recrimination among the opposing lawyers, thatStolz came to Ames and laid down his sword. The control of C. And R. Should pass unequivocally to the latter if he would but save Ketchimfrom prison. 

Then Ames lay back and roared with laughter over his great triumph. C. And R! Poof! He would send Stolz' nephew to prison, and then roll abomb along Wall Street whose detonation would startle the financialworld clean out of its orbit! Stolz had failed to notice that Ames'sschemes had so signally worked out that C. And R. Was practically inhis hands now! The defeated railroad magnate at length backed out ofthe Ames office purple with rage. And then he pledged himself tohypothecate his entire fortune to the rescue of his worthless nephew. 

Thus, in deep iniquity, was launched the famous trial, a process ofjustice in name only, serving as an outlet for a single man's longnurtured personal animosities. The adulterous union of religion andbusiness was only nominally before the bar. The victims, not thedefendant only, not the preachers, the washerwomen, the factory girls, the widows, and the orphans, whose life savings Ketchim had drawn intohis net by the lure of pious benedictions, but rather thoseunfortunates who had chanced to incur the malicious hatred of thegreat, legalized malefactor, Ames, by opposition to his selfishcaprice, and whose utter defeat and discrediting before the publicwould now place the crown of righteous expediency upon his ownchicanery and extortion and his wantonly murderous deeds. 

The prosecution scored from the beginning. Doctor Jurges, utterlyconfused by the keen lawyers, and vainly endeavoring to follow thedictates of his conscience, while attempting to reconcile them withhis many talks with Darius Borwell, gave testimony which fell littleshort of incriminating himself. For there were produced letters whichhe had written to members of his congregation, and which for subtletyand deception, though doubtless innocently done, would have made aseasoned promoter look sharp to his own laurels. 

Then Harris was called. He had been summoned from Denver for thetrial. But his stuttering evidence gave no advantage to either side. And then--crowning blunder!--Cass permitted Ketchim himself to takethe stand. And the frightened, trembling broker gave his own causesuch a blow that the prosecution might well have asked the judge totake the case from the jury then and there. It was a legal _faux pas_;and Cass walked the floor and moaned the whole night through. 

Then, as per program, the prosecution called Madam Beaubien. Could notthat sorrowing woman have given testimony which would have aided thetottering defense, and unmasked the evil genius which presided overthis mock trial? Ah, yes, in abundance! But not one point would thejudge sustain when it bordered upon forbidden territory. It was madeplain to her that she was there to testify against Ketchim, and topermit the Ames lawyers to bandy her own name about the court roomupon the sharp points of their cruel cross-questions and lowinsinuations. 

But, she protested, her knowledge of the Simití company's affairs hadcome through another person. 

And who might that be?

Mr. J. Wilton Ames. 

Ah! But Mr. Ames should give his own testimony--for was it not he whohad, not long since, legally punished the witness on a charge ofdefamation of character? The witness was dismissed. And the spectatorsknew that it was because the righteous prosecution could no longerstain its hands with one who bore such a tarnished name as she. 

And then, taunted and goaded to exasperation, the wronged woman burstinto tears and flayed the bigamist Ames there before the court roomcrowded with eager society ladies and curious, non-toiling men. Flayedhim as men are seldom flayed and excoriated by the women they trample. The bailiffs seized her, and dragged her into an ante-room; the judgebroke his gavel rapping for order, and threatened to clear the court;and then Cass, too young and inexperienced to avoid battle withseasoned warriors, rose and demanded that Madam Beaubien be returnedto the stand. 

The astonished judge hesitated. Cass stood his ground. He turned tothe people, as if seeking their support. A great murmur arose throughthe court room. The judge looked down at Ames. That man, sitting calmand unimpassioned, nodded his head slightly. And the woman was ledback to the chair. 

"It may have an important bearing upon the case, Your Honor!" criedthe young lawyer for the defense. "Mr. Ames is to take the stand as animportant witness in this case. If Madam Beaubien brings such a chargeagainst him, it gives us reason to believe his honor peccable, and histestimony open to suspicion!"

It was a daring statement, and the whole room gasped, and held itsbreath. 

"I object, Your Honor!" shouted the chief prosecutor, Ellis. "Thelawyer for the defense is in contempt of court! Madam Beaubien hasbeen shown to be a--"

"The objection is sustained!" called the judge. "The charge is utterlyirrelevant! Order in the court!"

_"His first wife's portrait--is in a glass window--in his yacht!"_cried the hysterical Beaubien. Then she crumpled up in a limp mass, and was led from the chair half fainting. 

At the woman's shrill words a white-haired man, dressed in black, clerical garb, who had been sitting in the rear of the room close tothe door, rose hastily, then slowly sat down again. At his feetreposed a satchel, bearing several foreign labels. Evidently he hadbut just arrived from distant lands. 

Consternation reigned throughout the room for a few minutes. ThenCass, believing that the psychological moment had arrived, loudlycalled Carmen Ariza to the stand. The dramatic play must be continued, now that it had begun. The battle which had raged back and forth forlong, weary days, could be won, if at all, only by playing upon theemotions of the jury, for the evidence thus far given had resulted inshowing not only the defense, but likewise the Beaubien, and all whohad been associated with the Simití company, including Cass himself, to be participators in gross, intentional fraud. 

The remaining witness, the girl herself, had been purposely neglectedby the prosecution, for the great Ames had planned that she must becalled by the defense. Then would he bring up the prostitute, Jude, and from her wring testimony which must blast forever the girl'salready soiled name. Following her, he would himself take the stand, and tell of the girl's visits to his office; of her protestations oflove for him; of her embracing him; and of a thousand indiscretionswhich he had carefully garnered and stored for this triumphantoccasion. 

But the judge, visibly perturbed by the dramatic turn which the caseseemed to be taking, studied his watch for a moment, then Ames's face, and then abruptly adjourned court until the following day. Yet notuntil Cass had been recognized, and the hounded girl summoned from hercell in the Tombs, to take the stand in the morning for--her life!

CHAPTER 17

In the days to come, when the divine leaven which is in the worldto-day shall have brought more of the carnal mind's iniquity to thesurface, that the Sun of Truth may destroy the foul germs, there shallbe old men and women, and they which, looking up from their work, peepand mutter of strange things long gone, who shall fall wonderinglysilent when they have told again of the fair young girl who walkedalone into the crowded court room that cold winter's morning. Andtheir stories will vary with the telling, for no two might agree whatmanner of being it was that came into their midst that day. 

Even the bailiffs, as if moved by some strange prescience, had fallenback and allowed her to enter alone. The buzz of subdued chatterceased, and a great silence came over all as they looked. Some swore, in awed whispers, when the dramatic day had ended, and judge and juryand wrangling lawyer had silently, and with bowed heads, gone quietand thoughtful each to his home, that a nimbus encircled her beautifulhead when she came through the door and faced the gaping multitude. Some said that her eyes were raised; that she saw not earthly things;and that a heavenly presence moved beside her. Nor may we lightly setaside these tales; for, after the curtain had fallen upon thewonderful scene about to be enacted, there was not one present whowould deny that, as the girl came into the great room and wentdirectly to the witness chair, God himself walked at her side and heldher hand. 

"Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thoudismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thougoest. "

Through the mind of that same white-haired man in the clerical garbran these words as he watched the girl move silently across the room. She seemed to have taken on a new meaning to him since the previousday. And as he looked, his eyes grew moist, and he drew out hishandkerchief. 

But his were not the only eyes that had filled then. Hitt and Haynerdbent their heads, that the people might not see; Miss Wall and theBeaubien wept silently, and with no attempt to stay their grief; Judeburied her head in her hands, and rocked back and forth, moaningsoftly. Why they wept, they knew not. A welter of conflicting emotionssurged through their harassed souls. They seemed to have come now tothe great crisis. And which way the tide would turn rested with thislone girl. 

For some moments after she was seated the silence remained unbroken. And as she sat there, waiting, she looked down at the man who soughtto destroy what he might not possess. Some said afterward that as shelooked at him she smiled. Who knows but that the Christ himself smileddown from the cross at those who had riven his great heart?

But Ames did not meet her glance. Somehow he dared not. He was farfrom well that morning, and an ugly, murderous mood possessed him. Andyet, judged by the world's standards, he had tipped the crest ofsuccess. He had conquered all. Men came and went at his slightest nod. His coffers lay bursting with their heavy treasure. He was swollenwith wealth, with material power, with abnormal pride. His tendersensibilities and sympathies were happily completely ossified, and hewas stone deaf and blind to the agonies of a suffering world. Not asingle aim but had been realized; not a lone ambition but had beenmet. Even the armed camp at Avon, and the little wooden crosses overthe fresh mounds there, all testified to his omnipotence; and in them, despite their horrors, he felt a satisfying sense of his own greatmight. 

The clerk held up the Bible for the girl to give her oath. She lookedat him for a moment, and then smiled. "I will tell the truth, " shesaid simply. 

The officer hesitated, and looked up at the judge. But the latter satwith his eyes fixed upon the girl. The clerk did not press the point;and Carmen was delivered into the hands of the lawyers. 

Cass hesitated. He knew not how to begin. Then, yielding to a suddenimpulse, he asked the girl to mention briefly the place of her birth, her parentage, and other statistical data, leading up to herassociation with the defendant. 

The story that followed was simply given. It was but the one she hadtold again and again. Yet the room hung on her every word. And whenshe had concluded, Cass turned her back again to Simití, and toRosendo's share in the mining project which had ultimated in thissuit. 

A far-away look came into the girl's eyes as she spoke of that great, black man who had taken her from desolate Badillo into his own warmheart. There were few dry eyes among the spectators when she told ofhis selfless love. And when she drew the portrait of him, standingalone in the cold mountain water, far up in the jungle of Guamocó, bending over the laden _batea_, and toiling day by day in thoseghastly solitudes, that she might be protected and educated and raisedabove her primitive environment in Simití, there were sobs heardthroughout the room; and even the judge, hardened though he was byconflict with the human mind, removed his glasses and loudly clearedhis throat as he wiped them. 

Ames first grew weary as he listened, and then exasperated. His lawyerat length rose to object to the recital on the ground that it waslargely irrelevant to the case. And the judge, pulling himselftogether, sustained the objection. Cass sat down. Then the prosecutioneagerly took up the cross-examination. Ames's hour had come. 

"Boast not thyself of to-morrow; for thou knowest not what a day maybring forth, " murmured the white-haired man in the clerical garb farback in the crowded room. Had he learned the law of Truth to error, "Thou shall surely die"? Did he discern the vultures gnawing at therich man's vitals? Did he, too, know that this giant of privilege, soinsolently flaunting his fleeting power, his blood-stained wealth andhis mortal pride, might as well seek to dim the sun in heaven as toescape the working of those infinite divine laws which shall effectthe destruction of evil and the establishment of the kingdom of heaveneven here upon earth?

Ames leaned over to whisper to Hood. The latter drew Ellis down andtransmitted his master's instructions. The atmosphere grew tense, andthe hush of expectancy lay over all. 

"Miss Carmen, " began Ellis easily, "your parentage has been a matterof some dispute, if I mistake not, and--"

Cass was on his feet to object. What had this question to do with theissue?

But the judge overruled the objection. That was what he was there for. Cass should have divined it by this time. 

"H'm!" Ellis cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. "And yourfather, it is said, was a negro priest. I believe that has beenaccepted for some time. A certain Diego, if I recall correctly. "

"I never knew my earthly father, " replied Carmen in a low voice. 

"But you have admitted that it might have been this Diego, have younot?"

"It might have been, " returned the girl, looking off absently towardthe high windows. 

"Did he not claim you as his daughter?" pursued the lawyer. 

"Yes, " softly. 

"Now, " continued Ellis, "that being reasonably settled, is it not alsotrue that you used the claim of possessing this mine, La Libertad, asa pretext for admission to society here in New York?"

The girl did not answer, but only smiled pityingly at him. He, too, had bartered his soul; and in her heart there rose a great sympathyfor him in his awful mesmerism. 

"And that you claimed to be an Inca princess?" went on the mercilesslawyer. 

"Answer!" admonished the judge, looking severely down upon the silentgirl. 

Carmen sighed, and drew her gaze away from the windows. She was weary, oh, so weary of this unspeakable mockery. And yet she was there toprove her God. 

"I would like to ask this further question, " Ellis resumed, withoutwaiting for her reply. "Were you not at one time in a resort conductedby Madam Cazeau, down on--"

He stopped short. The girl's eyes were looking straight into his, andthey seemed to have pierced his soul. "I am sorry for you, " she saidgently, "oh, so sorry! Yes, I was once in that place. "

The man knew not whether to smile in triumph or hide his head inshame. He turned to Hood. But Hood would not look at him. Ames alonemet his embarrassed glance, and sent back a command to continue theattack. 

Cass again rose and voiced his protest. What possible relation to theissue involved could such testimony have? But the judge bade him sitdown, as the counsel for the prosecution doubtless was bringing outfacts of greatest importance. 

Ellis again cleared his throat and bent to his loathsome task. "Now, Miss Ariza, in reference to your labors to incite the mill hands atAvon to deeds of violence, the public considers that as part of aconsistent line of attack upon Mr. Ames, in which you were aidingothers from whom you took your orders. May I ask you to cite themotives upon which you acted?"

Cass sank back in abject despair. Ketchim was being forgotten!

"We have not attacked Mr. Ames, " she slowly replied, "but only thethings he stands for. But you wouldn't understand. "

Ellis smiled superciliously. "A militant brand of social uplift, Isuppose?"

"No, Mr. Ellis, but just Christianity. "

"H'm. And that is the sort of remedy that anarchists apply toindustrial troubles, is it not?"

"There is no remedy for industrial troubles but Christianity, " shesaid gently. "Not the burlesque Christianity of our countless sectsand churches; not Roman Catholicism; not Protestantism; nor any of thefads and fancies of the human mind; but just the Christianity of Jesusof Nazareth, who knew that the human man was not God's image, but onlystood for it in the mortal consciousness. And he always saw behindthis counterfeit the real man, the true likeness of God. And--"

"You are diverging from the subject proper and consuming time, MissAriza!" interrupted the judge sternly. 

Carmen did not heed him, but continued quietly:

"And it was just such a man that Jesus portrayed in his daily walk andwords. "

"Miss Ariza!" again commanded the judge. 

"No, " the girl went calmly on, "Jesus did not stand for theintolerance, the ignorance, the bigotry, the hatred, and the humanhypothesis, the fraud, and chicanery, and the 'Who shall be greatest?'of human institutions. Nor did he make evil a reality, as mortals do. He knew it seemed awfully real to the deceived human consciousness;but he told that consciousness to be not afraid. And then he went towork and drove out the belief of evil on the basis of its nothingnessand its total lack of principle. The orthodox churches and sects ofto-day do not do that. Oh, no! They strive for world dominion! Theirkingdom is wholly temporal, and is upheld by heartless millionaires, and by warlike kings and emperors. Their tenets shame the intelligenceof thinking men! Yet they have slain tens of millions to establishthem!"

What could the Court do? To remove the girl meant depriving Ames ofhis prey. But if she remained upon the stand, she would put them allto confusion, for they had no means of silencing her. The judge lookedblankly at Ames; his hands were tied. 

Ellis hurried to change the current of her talk by interposing anotherquestion. 

"Will you tell us, Miss Carmen, why you have been working--"

"I have been working for God, " she interrupted. Her voice was low andsteady, and her eyes shone with a light that men are not wont to seein those of their neighbors. "I have not been working for men. Healone is my employer. And for Him I am here to-day. "

Consternation was plainly discernible in the camp of the prosecution. Cass knew now that he need make no more objections. The defense hadpassed from his hands. 

At this juncture James Ketchim, brother of the defendant, thinking torelieve the strain and embarrassment, gave audible voice to one of hiswonted witticisms. All turned to look at him. But the effect was notwhat he had anticipated. No one laughed. 

"Hold your tongue, Mr. Ketchim!" roared the exasperated judge, bendingfar over his desk. "You are just a smart little fool!" And the elderKetchim retired in chagrin and confusion. 

"Miss Carmen, " pursued Ellis, eager to recover his advantage, for hesaw significant movements among the jury, "do you not think theunfortunate results at Avon quite prove that you have allied yourselfwith those who oppose the nation's industrial progress?"

Carmen sat silent. Order had now been restored in the court room, andEllis was feeling sure of himself again. 

"You have opposed the constructive development of our country'sresources by your assaults upon men of wealth, like Mr. Ames, forexample, have you not?"

Then the girl opened her mouth, and from it came words that fell uponthe room like masses of lead. "I stand opposed to any man, Mr. Ellis, who, to enrich himself, and for the purpose of revenge, spreads theboll weevil in the cotton fields of the South. "

Dull silence descended upon the place. And yet it was a silence thatfell crashing upon Ames's straining ears. He sat for a moment stunned;then sprang to his feet. All eyes were turned upon him. He held out ahand, and made as if to speak; then sank again into his chair. 

Ellis stood as if petrified. Then Hood rose and whispered to him. Ellis collected himself, and turned to the judge. 

"Your Honor, we regret to state that, from the replies which MissAriza has given, we do not consider her mentally competent as awitness. We therefore dismiss her. "

But Cass had leaped to the floor. "Your Honor!" he cried. "I shouldlike to examine the witness further!"

"She is dismissed!" returned the judge, glowering over his spectaclesat the young lawyer. 

"I stand on--"

"Sit down!" the judge bellowed. 

"Miss Carmen!" called Cass through the rising tumult, "the lawyer forthe prosecution has heaped insults upon you in his low references toyour parentage. Will you--"

The judge pounded upon his desk with the remnant of his broken gavel. Then he summoned the bailiffs. 

"I shall order the room cleared!" he called in a loud, threateningvoice. 

The murmur subsided. The judge sat down and mopped his steaming face. Hood and Ellis bent in whispered consultation. Ames was a study ofwild, infuriated passion. Cass stood defiantly before the bar. Carmensat quietly facing the crowded room. She had reached up and wasfondling the little locket which hung at her throat. It was the firsttime she had ever worn it. It was not a pretty piece of jewelry; andit had never occurred to her to wear it until that day. Nor would shehave thought of it then, had not the Beaubien brought it to the Tombsthe night before in a little box with some papers which the girl hadcalled for. Why she had put it on, she could not say. 

Slowly, while the silence continued unbroken, the girl drew theslender chain around in front of her and unclasped it. 

"I--I never--knew my parents, " she murmured musingly, looking downlovingly at the little locket. Then she opened it and sat gazing, raptand absorbed, at the two little portraits within. "But there are theirpictures, " she suddenly announced, holding the locket out to Cass. 

It was said afterward that never in the history of legal procedure inNew York had that court room held such dead silence as when Cass stoodbending over the faces of the girl's earthly parents, portrayed in thestrange little locket which Rosendo had taken from Badillo yearsbefore. Never had it known such a tense moment; never had the very airitself seemed so filled with a mighty, unseen presence, as on that dayand in that crisal hour. 

Without speaking, Hood rose and looked over Cass's shoulder at thelocket. A muffled cry escaped him, and he turned and stared at Ames. The judge bent shaking over his desk. 

"Mr. Hood!" he exclaimed. "Have you ever seen those pictures before?"

"Yes, sir, " replied Hood in a voice that was scarcely heard. 

"Where, sir?"

Hood seemed to have frozen to the spot. His hands shook, and his wordsgibbered from his trembling lips. 

"The--the woman's portrait, sir--is--is--the one in--in Mr. Ames'syacht!"

_"My God!"_

The piercing cry rang through the still room like a lost soul'sdespairing wail. Ames had rushed from his seat, overturning his chair, thrusting the lawyers aside, and seized the locket. For a moment hepeered wildly into it. It seemed as if his eyes would devour it, absorb it, push themselves clean through it, in their eagerness tograsp its meaning. 

Then he looked up. His eyes were red; his face ashen; his lips white. His unsteady glance met the girl's. His mouth opened, and flapped likea broken shutter in the wind. His arms swung wildly upward; thendropped heavily. Suddenly he bent to one side; caught himself;straightened up; and then, with a horrifying, gurgling moan, crashedto the floor. The noise of the tremendous fall reverberated throughthe great room like an echo of Satan's plunge into the pit of hell. 

Pandemonium broke upon the scene. Wild confusion seized the excitedspectators. They rushed forward in a mass, over railings, over chairsand tables, heedless of all but the great mystery that was slowlyclearing away in the dim light that winter's morning. Through them thewhite-haired man, clad in clerical vestments, elbowed his way to thebar. 

"Let me see the locket!" he cried. "Let me see it!"

He tore it from Hood's hand and scanned it eagerly. Then he nodded hishead. "The same! The very same!" he murmured, trembling withexcitement. Then, shouting to the judge above the hubbub:

"Your Honor! I can throw some light upon this case!"

The crowd fell back. 

"Who are you?" called the judge in a loud, quavering voice. 

"I am Monsignor Lafelle. I have just returned from Europe. The woman'sportrait in this little locket is that of Doña Dolores, Infanta, daughter of Queen Isabella the Second, of Spain! And this girl, "pointing to the bewildered Carmen, who sat clinging to the arms of herchair, "is her child, and is a princess of the royal blood! Her fatheris the man who lies there--J. Wilton Ames!"

CHAPTER 18

Borne on pulsing electric waves, the news of the great _dénoûement_flashed over the city, and across a startled continent. Beneath theseas it sped, and into court and hovel. Madrid gasped; Seville panted;and old Padre Rafaél de Rincón raised his hoary head and cackledshrilly. 

To the seething court room came flying reporters and news gatherers, who threw themselves despairingly against the closed portals. Within, the bailiffs fought with the excited crowd, and held the doors againstthe panic without. 

Over the prostrate form of Ames the physicians worked with feverishenergy, but shook their heads. 

In the adjoining ante-room, whither she had been half carried, halfdragged by Hitt when Ames fell, sat Carmen, clasped in the Beaubien'sarms, stunned, bewildered, and speechless. Hitt stood guard at thedoor; and Miss Wall and Jude tiptoed about with bated breath, unableto take their eyes from the girl. 

In the court room without, Haynerd held the little locket, and pliedMonsignor Lafelle with his incoherent questions. The excited editor'sbrain was afire; but of one thing he was well assured, the Expresswould bring out an extra that night that would scoop its rivals cleanto the bone!

In a few minutes the bailiffs fought the mob back from the doors andadmitted a man, a photographer, who had been sent out to procurechemicals in the hope that the portrait of the man in the locket mightbe cleaned. Ten minutes later the features of J. Wilton Ames stoodforth clearly beside those of the wife of his youth. The pictureshowed him younger in appearance, to be sure, but the likeness wasunmistakable. 

"Lord! Lord! Monsignor, but you are slow! Come to the point quickly!We must go to press within an hour!" wailed Haynerd, shaking thechurchman's arm in his excitement. 

"But, what more?" cried Lafelle. "I saw the portrait in the RoyalGallery, years ago, in Madrid. It impressed me. I could not forget thesad, sweet face. I saw it again in the stained-glass window in theAmes yacht. I became suspicious. I inquired when I returned to Spain. There was much whispering, much shaking of heads, but littleinformation. But this I know: the queen, the great Isabella, had alover, a wonderful tenor, Marfori, Marquis de Loja. And one day a babewas taken quietly to a little cottage in the Granada hills. Rumor saidthat it was an Infanta, and that the tenor was its father. Who knew?One man, perhaps: old Rafaél de Rincón. But Rome suddenly recalledhim from Isabella's court, and after that he was very quiet. "

"But, Ames?" persisted Haynerd. 

Lafelle shrugged his shoulders. "Mr. Ames, " he said, "traveled much inEurope. He went often to Spain. He bought a vineyard in Granada--theone from which he still procures his wine. And there--who knows?--hemet the Infanta. But probably neither he nor she guessed her royalbirth. "

"Well! Good Lord! Then--?"

"Well, they eloped--who knows? Whether married or not, I can not say. But it is evident she went with him to Colombia, where, perhaps, hewas seeking a concession from Congress in Bogotá. So far, so good. Then came the news of his father's sudden death. He hastened out ofthe country. Possibly he bade her wait for his return. But aprospective mother is often excitable. She waited a day, a week--whoknows how long? And then she set out to follow him. Alas! she was wildto do such a thing. And it cost her life. She died at the littleriverine town of Badillo, after her babe, Carmen, was born. Is it notplausible?"

"God above!" cried Haynerd. "And the girl's wonderful voice?"

"A heritage from her grandfather, the tenor, Marfori, " Lafellesuggested. 

"But--the portraits--what is the name under that of Ames? Guillermo?That is not his!"

"Yes, for Guillermo in Spanish is William. Doubtless Ames told her hisname was Will, contracted from Wilton, the name he went by in hisyouth. And the nearest the Spanish could come to it was Guillermo. Diego's name was Guillermo Diego Polo. And after he had seen that namein the locket he used it as a further means of strengthening his claimupon the girl. "

"Then--she is--a--princess!"

"Yes, doubtless, if my reasoning is correct. Not an Inca princess, buta princess of the reigning house of Spain. "

Haynerd could hold himself no longer, but rushed madly from the roomand tore across town to the office of the Express. 

Then came the white-enameled ambulance, dashing and careening to thedoors of the building where Ames lay so quiet. Gently, silently, thegreat body was lifted and borne below. And then the chattering, gesticulating mob poured from the court room, from the halls andcorridors, and out into the chill sunlight of the streets, where theyformed anew into little groups, and went over again the dramaticevents but a few minutes past. 

Then, too, emerged Carmen, heavily veiled from the curious, vulgargaze of the rabble, and entered the waiting limousine, with theBeaubien and Hitt. Miss Wall and the gasping Jude followed in another. The judge had bidden the girl go on her own recognizance. The arrestat Avon; the matter of bail; all had merged into the excitement of thehour and been forgotten. Ketchim went out on Cass's arm. The judge hadordered the clerk to enter an adjournment. 

 * * * * *

All that afternoon and far into the night a gaping, wonderingconcourse braved the cold and stood about the walk that led up to thelittle Beaubien cottage. Within, the curtains were drawn, and Sidney, Jude, and Miss Wall answered the calls that came incessantly over thetelephone and to the doors. Sidney had not been in the court room, forHaynerd had left him at the editor's desk in his own absence. But withthe return of Haynerd the lad had hurried into a taxicab and commandedthe chauffeur to drive madly to the Beaubien home. And once throughthe door, he clasped the beautiful girl in his arms and strained herto his breast. 

"My sister!" he cried. "My own, my very own little sister! We onlypretended before, didn't we? But now--now, oh, God above! you reallyare my sister!"

The scarce comprehending girl drew his head down and kissed him. "Sidney, " she murmured, "the ways of God are past finding out!"

Aye, for again, as of old, He had chosen the foolish things of theworld to confound the wise; He had chosen the weak to confound themighty; and the base things, and the things despised, had He used tobring to naught the things that are. And why? That no flesh mightglory in His terrible presence!

"Carmen!" cried the excited boy. "Think what this means to our book!"

The girl smiled up at him; then turned away. "My father!" shemurmured. "He--my father!" she kept repeating, groping her way aboutthe room as if in a haze. "He! It can't be! It can't!"

The still dazed Beaubien drew the girl into her arms. "My littleprincess!" she whispered. "Oh! But who would have dreamed it! Yet Icalled you that from the very first. But--oh, Carmen! And he--thatman--your father!"

"Don't! Mother, don't! It--it isn't proved. It--"

Then the Beaubien's heart almost stopped. What if it were true? What, then, would this sudden turn in the girl's life mean to the lone womanwho clung to her so?

"No, mother dearest, " whispered Carmen, looking up through her tears. "For even if it should be true, I will not leave you. He--he--"

She stopped; and would speak of him no more. 

But neither of them knew as yet that in that marvelous Fifth Avenuepalace, behind those drawn curtains and guarded bronze doors, at whichan eager crowd stood staring, Ames, the superman, lay dying, his leftside, from the shoulder down, paralyzed. 

 * * * * *

In the holy quiet of the first hours of morning, the mist rose, andthe fallen man roused slowly out of his deep stupor. And then throughthe dim-lit halls of the great mansion rang a piercing cry. For whenhe awoke, the curtain stood raised upon his life; and the sight of itsghastly content struck wild terror to his naked soul. 

He had dreamed as he lay there, dreamed while the mist was rising. Hethought he had been toiling with feverish energy through those blackhours, building a wall about the things that were his. And into thedesign of the huge structure he had fitted the trophies of hisconquest. Gannette toiled with him, straining, sweating, groaning. Together they reared that monstrous wall; and as they labored, the manplotted the death of his companion when the work should be done, lesthe ask for pay. And into the corners of the wall they fitted littleskulls. These were the children of Avon who had never played. And overthe great stones which they heaved into place they sketched reddollar-marks; and their paint was human blood. A soft wind swept overthe rising structure, and it bore a gentle voice: "I am Love. " But thetoilers looked up and cursed. "Let us alone!" they cried. "Love isweakness!" And over the rim of the wall looked fair faces. "We areTruth, we are Life!" But the men frothed with fury, and hurled skullsat the faces, and bade them begone! A youth and a tender girl lookeddown at the sweating toilers. "We ask help; we are young, and timesare so hard!" But the great man pointed to himself. "Look at me!" hecried. "I need no help! Begone!" And then the darkness settled down, for the wall was now so high that it shut out the sun. And the greatman howled with laughter; the wall was done. So he turned and smotehis companion unto death, and dipped his hands in the warm blood ofthe quivering corpse. 

But the darkness was heavy. The man grew lonely. And then he sought tomount the wall. But his hands slipped on the human blood of the red, slimy dollar-marks, and he fell crashing back among his tinklingtreasures. He rose, and tried again. The naked, splitting skullsleered at him. The toothless jaws clattered, and the eyeless socketsglowed eerily. The man raised his voice. He begged that a rope belowered. He would go out once more into the sunlit world. But thechill wind brought him only despairing moans. 

Then he rushed madly to the wall, and smote it with his bare hands. Itmocked him with the strength which he had given it. He turned and torehis hair and flesh. He gnashed his teeth until they broke into bits. He cursed; he raved; he pleaded; he offered all his great treasure forfreedom. But the skulls grinned their horrid mockery at him; and theblood on the stones dripped upon his burning head. And above it all heheard the low plotting of those without who were awaiting his death, that they might throw down the wall and take away his treasure. 

And then his fear became frenzy; his love of gold turned to horror;his reason fled; and he dashed himself wildly against the prison whichhe had reared, until he fell, bleeding and broken. And as he fell, heheard the shrill cackle of demons that danced their hellish steps onthe top of the wall. Then the Furies flew down and bound him tight. 

 "Ah, my God, What might I not have made of Thy fair world Had I but loved Thy highest creature here? It was my duty to have loved the highest; It surely was my profit had I known. "

He awoke from his terror, dripping. He feebly lifted his head. Then hesought to raise his arms, to move. He was alive! And then the screamtore from his dry throat. His great body was half dead!

The attendants flew to his couch. The physicians bent over him andsought to soothe his mental agony. The man's torture was fearful tobehold; his weakness, pitiable. He sank again into somnolence. But thesleep was one of unbroken horror; and those in the room stopped in thecourse of their duties; and their faces blanched; and they held theirhands to their ears, when his awful moans echoed through the curtainedroom. 

Through his dreams raced the endless panorama of his crowded life. Nowhe was wading through muddy slums where stood the wretched houseswhich he rented for immoral purposes. He was madly searching forsomething. What could it be? Ah, yes, his girl! Some one had said shewas there. Who was it? Aye, who but himself? But he found her not. Andhe wept bitterly. 

And then he hurried to Avon; and there he dug into those freshgraves--dug, dug, dug, throwing the dirt up in great heaps behind him. And into the face of each corpse as he dragged it out of its damp bedhe peered eagerly. But with awful moans he threw them from him inturn, for she was not there. 

Then he fled down, down, far into the burning South; and there heroamed the trackless wastes, calling her name. And the wild beasts andthe hissing serpents looked out at him from the thick bush, lookedwith great, red eyes, and then fled from him with loathing. And, suddenly, he came upon another mound near the banks of a great river. And over it stood a rude cross; and on the cross he read the dim, penciled word, _Dolores_. Ah, God! how he cried out for the oblivionthat was not his. But the ghastly mound froze his blood, and he rushedfrom it in terror, and fell, whirling over and over, down, down intoeternal blackness filled with dying men's groans!

The awful day drew to a close. The exhausted attendants stood aboutthe bed with bated breath. The physicians had called Doctor Morton inconsultation, for the latter was a brain specialist. And while theysat gazing at the crazed, stricken giant, hopelessly struggling tolift the inert mass of his dead body, Reverend Darius Borwell entered. He bowed silently to them all; then went to the bedside and took thepatient's hand. A moment later he turned to the physicians andnurses. 

"Let us ask God's help for Mr. Ames, " he said gravely. 

They bowed, and he knelt beside the bed and prayed long and earnestly;prayed that the loving Father who had made man in His image would takepity on the suffering one who lay there, and, if it be His will, sparehim for Jesus' sake. 

He arose from his knees, and they all sat quiet for some moments. ThenDoctor Morton's heavy voice broke the silence of death. "Mr. Borwell, "he said in awful earnestness, extending his hand toward the bed, "curethat man, if your religion is anything more than a name!"

A hot flush of indignation spread over the minister's face; but he didnot reply. Doctor Morton turned to the physicians. 

"Gentlemen, " he said solemnly, "Mr. Ames, I think, is past our aid. There is nothing on earth that can save him. If he lives, he will behopelessly insane. " He hesitated, and turned to a maid. "Where is hisdaughter Kathleen?" he asked. 

"Upstairs, sir, in her apartments, " answered the maid, wiping her redeyes. 

"See that she remains there, " said the doctor gruffly. "Gentlemen, "turning again to the physicians, "I have but one suggestion. Sendfor--for--that little girl, Carmen. "

"It is ill-advised, Doctor, " interrupted one of the men. "It wouldonly further excite him. It might hasten the end. "

"I do not agree with you, " returned Doctor Morton. "As it is, he isdoomed. With her here--there may be a chance. "

The others shook their heads; but Doctor Morton persisted stubbornly. Finally Doctor Haley gave his ultimatum. "If she is sent for, I shallretire from the case. "

"Very well, " announced Doctor Morton evenly, "then I will take itmyself. " He rose and went out into the vestibule where there was atelephone. Calling for the Beaubien cottage, he gave a peremptoryorder that Carmen come at once in the automobile which he was sendingfor her. 

The Beaubien turned from the telephone to the girl. Her face wasdeathly pale. 

"What is it, mother dearest?"

"They--they want--you!"

"Why--is it--is he--"

"They say he is--dying, " the woman whispered. 

Carmen stood for a minute as if stunned. "Why--I--didn't know--thatthere was--anything wrong. Mother, you didn't tell me! Why?"

The Beaubien threw her arms around the girl. Father Waite rose fromthe table where he had been writing, and came to them. 

"Go, " he said to Carmen. "The Lord is with thee! Go in this thymight!"

A few minutes later the great bronze doors of the Ames mansion swungwide to admit the daughter of the house. 

Doctor Morton met the wondering girl, and led her directly into thesick-room. The other physicians had departed. 

"Miss Carmen, " he said gravely, "Mr. Ames is past earthly help. He cannot live. "

The girl turned upon him like a flash from a clear sky. "You mean, he_shall_ not live!" she cried. "For you doctors have sentenced him!"

The startled man bowed before the rebuke. Then a sense of hermagnificent environment, of her strange position, and of the vividevents of the past few hours swept over her, and she becameembarrassed. The nurses and attendants, too, who stood about andstared so hard at her, added to her confusion. 

But the doctor took her hand. "Listen, " he said, "I am leaving now, but you will remain. If I am needed, one of the maids will summonme. "

Carmen stood for a moment without speaking. Then she walked slowly tothe bed and looked down at the man. Doctor Morton motioned to theattendants to withdraw. Then he himself stepped softly out and closedthe door. When the girl turned around, she was alone--with death. 

CHAPTER 19

A curious, gossiping world, dwelling only in the froth of the humanmind, will not comprehend for many a year to come what took place inthat dim, tapestried chamber of the rich man in those next hours. Whentwilight began to steal through the marble halls of the great, shrouded mansion, the nurse in charge, becoming apprehensive, softlyopened the door of the sick-room and peeped in. Through the darknessshe saw the girl, sitting beside the bed, with the man's right handclasped in both of hers, and her head resting upon his shoulder. Andthe nurse quickly closed the door again in awe, and stole away. 

The girl sat there all that day and all that night, nor would leavebut for brief moments to eat, or to reassure the Beaubien over thetelephone that all was well. Doctor Morton came, and went, and cameagain. Carmen smiled, and held his hand for a moment each time, butsaid little. Ames had slept. And, more, his cheeks were stained wherethe scalding tears had coursed down them. But the doctor would ask noquestions. He was satisfied. The nurses entered only when summoned. And three days and nights passed thus, while Carmen dwelt with the manwho, as the incarnation of error, seeking the destruction of others, had destroyed himself. 

Then Doctor Morton announced to a waiting world that his patient wouldlive--but he would say no more. And the world heard, too, thatKathleen Ames had left her father's roof--left in humiliation andchagrin when she learned that Carmen had come there to live--and hadgone to England for a prolonged visit with the Dowager Duchess ofAltern and her now thoroughly dismayed son. But Sidney came; and withhim the black-veiled Beaubien. And they both knelt beside the bed ofsuffering; and the hand of the now quiet man slowly went out and layfor a moment upon their bowed heads, while Carmen stood near. ThenWillett was sent for; and he came often after that, and took hismaster's scarce audible instructions, and went away again to touch thewires and keys that ended the war of hatred at Avon; that broughtFather Danny in the master's private car to the great metropolitanhospital; that sent to the startled Hitt the canceled mortgage paperson the Express; and that inaugurated that great work of restitutionwhich held the dwellers in the Ames mansion toiling over musty booksand forgotten records for months to come. 

What had passed between the man and the sweet-faced girl who hoveredover him like a ray of light, no one may know. That he had trod theglowing embers of hell, his cavernous, deep-lined face and whiteninghair well testified. It was said afterward that on that third day hehad opened his eyes and looked straight into those of the girl. It wassaid that she then whispered but one word, "Father. " And that, whenthe sound of her low voice fell upon his straining ears, he hadreached out the arm that still held life, and had drawn her head downupon his breast, and wept like a motherless babe. But what he hadsaid, if aught, about the abandoned mother who, on the banks of thedistant river, years gone, had yielded her life to him and his child, no one knew. Of but one thing was there any certainty: the name ofPadre Josè de Rincón had not crossed their lips during those darkdays. 

And so two weeks passed. Then strong men lifted the giant from his bedand placed him in a wheel chair; and Carmen drew the chair out intothe conservatory, among the ferns and flowers, and sat beside him, hishand still clasped in both of hers. That he had found life, no one whomarked his tense, eager look, which in every waking moment lay uponthe girl, could deny. His body was dead; his soul was flutteringfeebly into a new sense of being. 

But with the awakening of conscience, in the birth-throes of a newlife, came the horrors, the tortures, the wild frenzy of self-loathing;and, but for the girl who clung so desperately to him, he would havequickly ended his useless existence. What had he done! God! What madwork had he done! He was a murderer of helpless babes! He was theblackest of criminals! The stage upon which the curtain had risen, whereon he saw the hourly portrayal of his own fiendish deeds, stoodalways before him like a haunting spectre; and as he gazed withhorrified eyes, his hair grew hourly white. 

And the torture was rendered more poignant by the demands of hiserstwhile associates and henchmen. They had taken fright at the firstorders which had issued from the sick-bed, but now they swooped downupon the harassed man to learn what might be expected from him in thefuture. What were to be his policies now in regard to those manifoldinterests which he was pursuing with such vigor a few weeks ago? Washe still bent upon depriving Senator Gossitch of the seat which theAmes money had purchased? Was the Ketchim prosecution to continue? TheAmalgamated Spinners' Association must know at once his further plans. The Budget needed money and advice. His great railroad projects, hismining ventures, his cotton deals, his speculations and gamblingschemes--whither should they tend now? Ward bosses, dive keepers, bank presidents, lawyers, magnates, and preachers clamored foradmission at his doors when they learned that he would live, but thata marvelous, incomprehensible change had swept over him. 

The tired, hectored man turned to Carmen. And she called Hitt andWaite and the keen-minded Beaubien. The latter's wide businessexperience and worldly knowledge now stood them all in good stead, andshe threw herself like a bulwark between the stricken man and thehounds that roared at his gates. There were those among them who, likeAmes, had bitterly fought all efforts at industrial and social reform, and yet who saw the dawning of a new era in the realms of finance, ofpolitics, of religion. There were those who sensed the slow awakeningof the world-conscience, and who resisted it desperately, and who nowsat frightened and angered at the thought of losing their greatleader. Their attitude toward life, like his, had been wrong from thebeginning; they, like him, were striking examples of the dire effectsof a false viewpoint in the impoverishing of human life. But, withhim, they had built up a tremendous material fabric. And now theyshook with fear as they saw its chief support removed. For they mustknow that his was a type that was fast passing, and after it must comethe complete breakdown of the old financial order. His world-embracinggambling--which touched all men in some way, for it had to do with thevery necessities of life, with crops, with railroads, with industries, and out of which he had coined untold millions--had ceased forever. What did it portend to them?

And to him also came Reverend Darius Borwell, in whose congregationsat sanctimonious malefactors of vast wealth, whose pockets bulgedwith disease-laden profits from the sales of women's bodies and souls. Reverend Borwell came to offer the sufferer the dubious consolationsof religion--and inquire if his beautiful change of heart would affectthe benefaction which he had designed for the new church. 

Ah, this was the hour when the fallen giant faced the Apostle's awfulquestion: What fruit had ye then in those things whereof ye are nowashamed? _For the end of those things is death!_

And then came Monsignor Lafelle, asking not to see the sick man, butthe girl. And, alone with her in the great library that day, he bentlow over her hand and begged that she would forgive and forget. It washe who told Mrs. Ames that flagrantly false tale of the girl'sparentage. He had received it from Wenceslas, in Cartagena. It was hewho, surmising the dark secret of Ames, had concluded that thesupposed Infanta had been his wife. And he had returned to New Yorkto confront him with the charge, and to make great capital out of it. But he had never suspected for a moment Carmen's connection with themystery. And now--

But the girl saw only the image of God in the humiliated man. And whenhe kissed her hand and departed, she bade him know, always, that sheloved him as a brother. And he knew it, knew that her love was of thespirit--it left all for the Christ. 

A few days later there was delivered at the Ames mansion a cablemessage from Cartagena, in reply to one which the master had sent tothe lawyer, Estrella. Ames shook with suppressed excitement when heread it. Then he bade Carmen send at once for Hitt, Willett, andCaptain McCall, and leave them with him for a private conference. 

"She must not know! She must not know!" Ames repeated, as the threemen sat leaning eagerly forward an hour later, drinking in every wordhe spoke. "If the mission is successful, well and good. If it fails, then our silence now will be justified, for as yet I have said nothingto her regarding him. Peace is being concluded there. Wenceslas haswon--but with--but of that later. When can you get under way, McCall?"

"To-night, sir. The bunkers are full. "

"Very good. I will go aboard at ten. You will weigh anchor immediately. "

"What?" cried Hitt. "You will go?"

"I will!" The sudden flash of his old-time energy nearly startled themfrom their chairs. "And, " he added, "you, Mr. Hitt, will accompany us. Now, Willett, have the door of my limousine widened to accommodatethis wheel chair. I want a dozen men to insure our privacy, and tokeep the way clear. No one not in our confidence must see us depart. "

Hitt gasped. "But--Carmen--"

"Goes with us, " returned Ames. "I can not spare her for a moment. Madam Beaubien will have charge of the house during our absence. Wewill be back here, weather favorable, in three weeks--or not at all!"

"Yet, she will know--"

"Nothing. I take the trip, ostensibly, for the change; to get awayfrom those who are hounding me here; for recuperation--anything! Go, now, and make ready!" The man's eyes glistened like live coals, andhis sunken cheeks took on a feverish glow. 

That night the _Cossack_, enveloped in gloom, steamed noiselessly outof New York harbor, and turned her prow to the South. And when shehad entered the high sea, Captain McCall from his bridge aloft sent amessage down to the waiting engineer:

"Full speed ahead!"

CHAPTER 20

Cartagena's slumber of centuries had been broken by nearly four yearsof civil warfare. But on the day that the lookout in the abandonedconvent of Santa Candelaria, on the summit of La Popa, flashed themessage down into the old city that a steam yacht had appeared on thenorthern horizon, she was preparing to sink back again into quietdreams. For peace was being concluded among the warring politicalfactions. The country lay devastated and blood-soaked; but the causeof Christ had triumphed, and the Church still sat supreme in thecouncils of Bogotá. Cartagena was _en fête_; the last of the politicalagitators would be executed on the morrow. And so the lookout'smessage was received with indifference, even though he embellished itwith the comment that the boat must be privately owned, as no ships ofthe regular lines were due to arrive that day. 

Quietly the graceful craft swept down past Tierra Bomba and into theBoca Chica, between the ancient forts of San Fernando and San Josè, and came to anchor out in the beautiful harbor, a half mile from theancient gate of the clock. A few curious idlers along the shorewatched it and commented on its perfect lines. And the numerousofficials of the port lazily craned their necks at it, and yawninglyawaited the arrival of the skiff that was immediately lowered andheaded for the pier. 

The tall American who stepped from the little boat and came at once tothem to show his papers, easily satisfied their curiosity, for manytourists of the millionaire class dropped anchor in Cartagena'swonderful harbor, and came ashore to wander among the decayingmementos of her glorious past. And this boat was not a stranger tothese waters. On the yacht itself, as they glanced again toward it, there was no sign of life. Even the diminishing volume of smoke thatrose from its funnels evidenced the owner's intention of spending sometime in that romantic spot. 

From the dock, Hitt passed through the old gateway in the massivewall, quickly crossed the _Plaza de Coches_, and lost himself in thegay throngs that were entering upon the day's festivities. Occasionally he dropped into wine shops and little stores, andlingered about to catch stray bits of gossip. Then he slowly made hisway up past the Cathedral and into the _Plaza de Simón Bolívar_. 

For a while, sitting on a bench in front of the equestrian statue ofthe famous _Libertador_, he watched the passing crowds. From time totime his glance strayed over toward the Cathedral. Once he rose, andstarted in that direction; then came back and resumed his seat. It wasevident that he was driven hard, and yet knew not just what course topursue. 

Finally he jumped to his feet and went over to a little cigar storewhich had caught his eye. He bent over the soiled glass case andselected several cigars from the shabby stock. Putting one of theminto his mouth, he lighted it, and then casually nodded to apowerfully built man standing near. 

The latter turned to the proprietor and made some comment in Spanish. Hitt immediately replied to it in the same tongue. The man flushedwith embarrassment; then doffed his hat and offered an apology. "Iforget, señor, " he said, "that so many Americans speak our language. "

Hitt held out his hand and laughed heartily at the incident. Then hiseye was attracted by a chain which the man wore. 

"May I examine it?" he asked, bending toward it. 

"_Cierto_, _señor_, " returned the man cordially. "It came from anIndian grave up in Guamocó. I am a _guaquero_--grave digger--byprofession; Jorge Costal, by name. "

Hitt glanced up at the man. Somehow he seemed to be familiar with thatname. Somewhere he seemed to have heard it. But on whose lips?Carmen's? "Suppose, " he said, in his excellent Spanish, "that we crossthe _Plaza_ to yonder wine shop. You may be able to tell me some ofthe history of this interesting old town. And--it would be a greatfavor, señor. "

The man bowed courteously and accepted the invitation. A few momentslater they sat at a little table, with a bottle between them, commenting on the animated scene in the street without. 

"Peace will be concluded to-day, they say, " reflected Hitt, by way ofintroduction. 

"Yes, " returned the man grimly, "there is but little more blood tolet. That flows to-morrow. "

"Political agitators?" Hitt suggested. 

The man's face darkened. "Only one, " he muttered. "The other is--"

He stopped and eyed Hitt furtively. But the American manifested only acasual interest. 

"Their names?" he asked nonchalantly. 

"They were posted this morning, " said the man. "Amado Jesus Fanor andJosè de Rincón. "

Hitt started, but held himself. "Who--who are they?" he asked in acontrolled voice. 

"A liberal general and an ex-priest. "

"Ex-priest?" exclaimed Hitt. 

The man looked at him wonderingly. "Yes, señor. Why?"

"Oh, nothing--nothing. It is the custom to--to shoot ex-priests downhere, eh?"

"_Caramba!_ No! But this man--señor, why do you ask?"

"Well--it struck me as curious--that's all, " returned Hitt, at a lossfor a suitable answer. "You didn't happen to know these men, Ipresume?"

"_Na_, _señor_, you seek to involve me. Who are you, that you ask suchquestions of a stranger?" The man reflected the suspicious caution ofthese troublous times. 

"Why, _amigo_, it is of no concern to me, " replied Hitt easily, flicking the ashes from his cigar. "I once knew a fellow by that name. Met him here years ago. Learned that he afterward went to Simití. ButI--"

"Señor!" cried the man, starting up. "Are you the _Americano_, the manwho explored?"

"I am, " said Hitt, bending closer to him. "And we are well met, foryou are Don Jorge, who knew Padre Josè de Rincón in Simití, no?"

The man cast a timid glance around the room. "Señor, " he whispered, "we must not say these things here! I leave you now--"

"Not yet!" Hitt laid a hand upon his. "Where is he?" he demanded in alow voice. 

"In San Fernando, señor. "

"And how long?"

"A year, I think. He was first three years in the prison in Cartagena. But the Bish--"

"Eh? Don Wenceslas had him removed to San Fernando?"

The man nodded. 

"And--"

"He will be shot to-morrow, señor. "

Hitt thought with desperate rapidity. Then he looked up. "Why do yousay he is an ex-priest?" he asked. 

"He has just been excommunicated, " replied the man. "Cursed, they say, by bell, book, and candle. "

"Good heavens! That he might be shot? Ah, I see it all! Ames'smessage! Of course Don Wenceslas would not dare to execute a priest ingood standing. And so he had him excommunicated, eh?"

Don Jorge shrugged his shoulders. "_Quien sabe?_" he muttered. 

Hitt sat for a while in a deep study. Time was precious. And yet itwas flying like the winds. Then he roused up. 

"You knew a little girl--in Simití--in whom this Rincón wasinterested?"

"Ah, yes, señor. But--why do you ask? She went to the great Statesfrom which you come. And I think little was heard from her afterthat. "

"Eh? Yes, true. She lived with--"

"Don Rosendo Ariza. "

"Yes. And he?"

"Dead--he and his good wife, Doña Maria. "

Hitt's head sank. How could he break this to Carmen? Then he sprang tohis feet. "Come, " he said, "we will stroll down by the walls. I wouldlike a look at San Fernando. "

"Ha! Señor, you--you--"

Hitt threw him a look of caution, and shook his head. Then, motioninghim to follow, he led him out and down through the winding, tortuousthoroughfares. On the summit of the walls were sentinels, posted atfrequent intervals; and no civilian might walk upon the greatenclosure until peace had been formally declared. 

Hailing a passing carriage, Hitt urged the wondering Don Jorge intoit, and bade the driver convey them to the old ruin of San Felipe, andleave them. There they climbed the broken incline into the batteredfortress, and seated themselves in the shadow of a crumbling parapet. They were alone on the enormous, grass-grown pile. From their positionthey commanded a wonderful view across the town and harbor, and farout over the green waters of the Caribbean. The _Cossack_ lay asleepin the quiet harbor. Don Jorge saw it, and wondered whence it came. 

"Listen, _amigo_, " began Hitt, pointing to the yacht. "In that boat isa girl, whose dearest earthly treasure is the condemned prisoner outthere in San Fernando. That girl is the little Carmen, foster-daughterof old Rosendo. "

"_Hombre!_" cried Don Jorge, staring at Hitt as if he suspected hissanity. 

"It is true, friend, for I myself came with her in that boat. "

"_Caramba!_"

"And, " continued Hitt, glancing again about the ruined fortress andlowering his voice, "we have come for Josè de Rincón. "

"_Santa Virgen!_ Are you _loco_?"

Hitt smiled. "And now, " he went on eagerly, "how are we to get him?"

"But, _amigo_! San Fernando is closely guarded! And he--_porsupuesto_, he will be in the dungeons!"

"No doubt, " returned Hitt dryly, "if your excellent friend Wenceslashas had anything to do with it. But dungeons have windows, eh?"

"_Caramba_, yes; and San Fernando's are just above the water's edge. And when the waves are high the sea pours into them!"

"And--could we learn which window is his, do you think?"

"Señor, I know, " replied the man. 

"Ha! And--"

"I learned from one of the soldiers, Fernando, who once lived inSimití. I had thought, señor, that--that perhaps I--"

"That perhaps you might make the attempt yourself, eh?" put in Hitteagerly. 

Don Jorge nodded. Hitt sprang to his feet and looked out toward thesilent fortress. 

"Don Jorge, it is dark out over the harbor at night, eh? Nosearchlights?"

"None, señor. "

Hitt began to pace back and forth. Suddenly he stopped, and stoodlooking down through a hole in the broken pavement. Then he knelt andpeered long and eagerly into it. 

"Look here, friend, " he called. "How does one get into that place?"

Don Jorge came and looked into the aperture. "It is one of the roomsof the fortress, " he said. "But--_caramba_! I know not how it may bereached. "

"The passageways?"

"Caved--all of them. "

"But--you are a mighty husky fellow; and I am not weak. Suppose we trylifting one of these flags. "

"_Na_, _señor_, as well try the tunnels! But, why?"

Hitt did not answer. But, bidding Don Jorge follow, he sought thefallen entrance to the old fortress, and plunged into the dark passagethat led off from it into the thick gloom. Groping his way down along, damp corridor, he came to a point where three narrower, brick-lined tunnels branched off, one of them dipping into the earthat a sharp angle. He struck a match, and then started down this, followed by the wondering Don Jorge. 

A thousand bats, hideous denizens of these black tunnels, floutedtheir faces and disputed their progress. Don Jorge slapped wildly atthem, and cursed low. Hitt took up a long club and struck savagelyabout him. On they stumbled, until the match flickered out, and theywere left in Stygian blackness, with the imps of darkness whirringmadly about them. Hitt struck another match, and plunged ahead. 

At length they found the way blocked by a mass of rubbish which hadfallen from the roof. Hitt studied it for a moment, then climbed uponit and, by the aid of the feeble light from his matches, peered intothe foul blackness beyond. 

"Come, " he said, preparing to proceed. 

"_Na, amigo!_ Not I!" exclaimed Don Jorge. His Latin soul hadrevolted. 

"Then wait for me here, " said Hitt, pushing himself through the narrowaperture at the top of the rubbish, and fighting the horde ofterrified bats. 

A few minutes later he returned, covered with slime, and scratched andbleeding. "All right, " he muttered. "Now let's get out of thismiserable hole!"

Out in the sunlight once more, Hitt sought to remove the stains fromhis clothes, meanwhile bidding Don Jorge attend well to his words. 

"You swim, eh?"

"Yes. "

"Then do you come to the beach to-night to bathe, down across from theyacht. And, listen well: you would do much for the little Carmen, no?And for your friend Josè? Very good. You will swim out to the yacht atseven to-night, with your clothes in a bundle on your head, eh? And, Don Jorge--but we will discuss that later. Now you go back to the cityalone. I have much to do. And, note this, you have not seen me. "

Meantime, to the group of politicians, soldiers, and clergy assembledin the long audience room of the departmental offices to debate theterms of the peace protocol, news of the arrival of the _Cossack_ wasbrought by a slow-moving messenger from the dock. At the abruptannouncement the acting-Bishop was seen to start from his chair. Wasthe master himself on board? _Quien sabe?_ And, if so--but, impossible! He would have advised his faithful co-laborer of hiscoming. And yet, what were those strange rumors which had trickledover the wires, and which, in his absorption in the local issues, andin the excitement attendant upon the restoration of peace and thesettlement of the multifold claims of innumerable greedy politicians, he had all but forgotten? A thousand suggestions flashed through hismind, any one of which might account for the presence of the _Cossack_in Cartagena's harbor that day. But extreme caution must be observeduntil he might ascertain its errand. He therefore despatched a messageto the yacht, expressing his great surprise and pleasure, and biddingits master meet him at a convenient hour in his study in theCathedral. This done, he bent anew to the work before him, yet withhis thought harried by doubt, suspicion, and torturing curiosity. 

Wenceslas soon received a reply to his message. The master was aboard, but unable to go ashore. The acting-Bishop would therefore come to himat once. 

Wenceslas hesitated, and his brow furrowed. He knew he was called uponto render his reckoning to the great financier who had furnished thesinews of war. But he must have time to consider thoroughly his ownadvantage, for well he understood that he was summoned to match hisown keen wits with those of a master mind. 

And then there flashed through his thought the reports which hadcircled the world but three short weeks before. The man of wealth hadfound his daughter; and she was the girl for whom the two Americanshad outwitted him four years ago! And the girl--Simití--and--ah, Rincón! Good! He laughed outright. He would meet the financier--butnot until the morrow, at noon, for, he would allege, the unanticipatedarrival of Ames had found this day completely occupied. So he againdespatched his wondering messenger to the _Cossack_. And thatmessenger was rowed out to the quiet yacht in the same boat with thetall American, whose clothes were torn and caked with mud, and inwhose eyes there glowed a fierce determination. 

That night the sky was overcast. The harbingers of the wet season hadalready arrived. At two in the morning the rain came, descending in atorrent. In the midst of it a light skiff, rocking dangerously on theswelling sea, rounded a corner of San Fernando and crept like a shadowalong the dull gray wall. The sentry above had taken shelter from thedriving rain. The ancient fort lay heavily shrouded in gloom. 

At one of the narrow, grated windows which were set just above thewater's surface the skiff hung, and a long form arose from its depthsand grasped the iron bars. A moment later the gleam of an electriclantern flashed into the blackness within. It fell upon a rough bench, standing in foul, slime-covered water. Upon the bench sat the huddledform of a man. 

Then another dark shape rose in the skiff. Another pair of hands laidhold on the iron bars. And behind those great, calloused handsstretched thick arms, with the strength of an ox. An iron lever wasinserted between the bars. The heavy breathing and the low sounds ofthe straining were drowned by the tropic storm. The prisoner leapedfrom the bench and stood ankle-deep in the water, straining his eyesupward. 

The light flashed again into his face. His heart pounded wildly. Histhrobbing ears caught the splash of a knotted rope falling into thewater at his feet. Above the noise of the rain he thought he heard agroaning, creaking sound. Those rusted, storm-eaten bars in theblackness above must be slowly yielding to an awful pressure. Heturned and dragged the slime-covered bench to the window, and stoodupon it. Then he grasped the rope with a strength born anew of hopeand excitement, and pulled himself upward. The hands from withoutseized him; and slowly, painfully, his emaciated body was crushedthrough the narrow space between the bent bars. 

 * * * * *

Cartagena awoke to experience another thrill. And then the ripple ofexcitement gave place to anger. The rabble had lost one of itsvictims, and that one the chief. Moreover, the presence of thatgraceful yacht, sleeping so quietly out there in the sunlit harbor, could not but be associated with that most daring deed of thepreceding night, which had given liberty to the excommunicated priestand political malefactor, Josè de Rincón. Crowds of chattering, gesticulating citizens gathered along the harbor shores, and loudlyvoiced their disappointment and threats. But the boat lay like a thingasleep. Not even a wisp of smoke rose from its yellow funnels. 

Then came the Alcalde, and the Departmental Governor, grave andsedate, with their aids and secretaries, their books and documents, their mandates and red-sealed processes, and were rowed out toconfront the master whom they believed to have dared to thwart thehand of justice and remain to taunt them with his egregious presence. This should be made an international episode, whose ramificationswould wind down through years to come, and embrace long, stupidcongressional debates, apologies demanded, huge sums to salve awounded nation, and the making and breaking of politicians toonumerous to mention!

But the giant who received them, bound to his chair, in the splendidlibrary of the palatial yacht, and with no attendant, save a singlevalet, flared out in a towering rage at the gross insult offered himand his great country in these black charges. He had come on apeaceful errand; partly, too, for reasons of health. And he was atthat moment awaiting a visit from His Grace. What manner of receptionwas this, that Cartagena extended to an influential representative ofthe powerful States of the North!

"But, " the discomfited Indignation Committee gasped, "what of the tallAmerican who was seen to land the day before?"

The master laughed in their faces. He? Why, but a poor, obsessedarchaeologist, now prowling around the ruins of San Felipe, doubtlessmumbling childishly as he prods the dust and mold of centuries! Go, visit him, if they would be convinced!

And when these had gone, chagrined and mortified--though filledwith wonder, for they had roamed the _Cossack_, and peered intoits every nook and cranny, and stopped to look a second time at thefair-haired young boy who looked like a girl, and hovered close tothe master--came His Grace, Wenceslas. He came alone, and with a sneercurling his imperious lips. And his calm, arrogant eyes held ameaning that boded no good to the man who sat in his wheel chair, alone, and could not rise to welcome him. 

"A very pretty trick, my powerful friend, " said the angered churchmanin his perfect English. "And one that will cause your Government atWashington some--"

"Enough!" interrupted Ames in a steady voice. "I sent for youyesterday, intending to ask you to release the man. I had terms thenwhich would have advantaged you greatly. You were afraid to see meuntil you had evolved your plans of opposition. Only a fixed anddevilish hatred, nourished by you against a harmless priest whopossessed your secrets, doomed him to die to-day. But we will passthat for the present. I have here my demands for the aid I havefurnished you. You may look them over. " He held out some typewrittensheets to Wenceslas. 

The churchman glanced hastily over them; then handed them back with asmile. 

"With certain modifications, " he said smoothly. "The terms on whichpeace is concluded will scarcely admit of--"

"Very well, " returned Ames quietly. "And now, La Libertad?"

Wenceslas laughed. "_En manos muertas_, my friend, " he replied. "Itwas your own idea. "

"And the emerald concession?"

"Impossible! A government monopoly, you know, " said His Grace easily. "You see, my friend, it is a costly matter to effect the escape ofstate prisoners. As things stand now, your little trick of last nightquite protects me. For, first you instruct me, long ago, to place theweak little Josè in San Fernando; and I obey. Then you suffer a changeof heart, and slip down here to release the man, who has become astate prisoner. That quite removes you from any claims upon us for ashare of the spoils of war. I take it, you do not wish to riskexposure of your part in this four years' carnage?"

Ames drew a sigh. Then he pulled himself together. "Wenceslas, " hesaid, "I am not the man with whom you dealt in these matters. He isdead. I have but one thing more to say, and that is that I renounceall claims upon you and your Government, excepting one. La Libertadmine was owned by the Rincón family. It was rediscovered by oldRosendo, and the title transferred to his foster-daughter. Itspossession must remain with her and her associates. There is norecord, so you have informed me, to the effect that the Churchpossesses this mine. "

"But, my friend, there shall be such a record to-day, " laughedWenceslas. "And, in your present situation, you will hardly care tocontest it. "

Ames smiled. He now had the information which he had been seeking. Thetitle to the famous mine lay still with the Simití company. He pressedthe call-button attached to his chair. The door opened, and Don Jorgeentered, leading the erstwhile little newsboy, Josè de Rincón, by thehand. 

Wenceslas gasped, and staggered back. He knew not the man; but the boywas a familiar figure. 

Don Jorge advanced straight to him. Their faces almost touched. 

"Your Grace, were you married to the woman by whom you had this son?"Don Jorge's steady words fell upon the churchman's ears like asentence of death. 

"I ask, " continued the dark-faced man, "because I learned last nightthat the lad's mother was my daughter, the little Maria. "

"_Santa Virgen!_"

"Yes, Your Grace, a sainted virgin, despoiled by a devil! And the manwho gave me this information--would you like to know? _Bien_, it wasPadre Josè de Rincón, in whose arms she died, you lecherous dog!"

Wenceslas paled, and his brow grew moist. He stared at the boy, andthen at the strong man whom he had so foully wronged. 

"If you have concluded your talk with Señor Ames, " continued DonJorge, "we will go ashore--you and the lad and I. "

Wenceslas's face brightened. Ashore! Yes, by all means!

The trio turned and quietly left the room. Gaining the deck, Wenceslasfound a skiff awaiting them, and two strong sailors at the oars. DonJorge urged him on, and together they descended the ladder and enteredthe boat. A few moments later they landed at the pier, and the skiffturned back to the yacht. 

As to just what followed, accounts vary. There were some whoremembered seeing His Grace pass through the narrow streets with adark-skinned, powerful man, whose hand grasped that of the youngnewsboy. There were others who said that they saw the boy leave themat the Cathedral, and the two men turn and enter. Still others saidthey saw the heavy-set man come out alone. But there was only one whodiscovered the body of Wenceslas, crumpled up in a hideous heap uponthe floor of his study, with a poignard driven clean through hisheart. That man was the old sexton, who fled screaming from the awfulsight late that afternoon. 

Again Cartagena shook with excitement, and seethed with mystery. Hadthe escaped prisoner, Rincón, returned to commit this awful deed?There were those who said he had. For the dark-skinned man who hadentered the Cathedral with His Grace was seen again on the streets andin the wine shops that afternoon, and had been marked by some mountingthe broken incline of San Felipe. 

Again the Governor and Alcalde and their numerous suite paid a visitto the master on board the _Cossack_. But they learned only that HisGrace had gone ashore long before he met his fearful death. And so theGovernor returned to the city, and was driven to San Felipe. But hisonly reward was the sight of the obsessed archaeologist, mud-stainedand absorbed, prying about the old ruins, and uttering little cries ofdelight at new discoveries of crumbling passageways and caving rooms. And so there was nothing for the disturbed town to do but settle downand ponder the strange case. 

A week later smoke was seen again pouring out of the _Cossack's_funnels. That same day the Governor and Alcalde and their suites werebidden to a farewell banquet on board the luxurious yacht. Far intothe night they sat over their rare wines and rich food, drinking deephealths to the _entente cordial_ which existed between the littlerepublic of the South and the great one of the North. And while theydrank and sang and listened enraptured to the wonderful pipe-organ, alittle boat put out from the dark, tangled shrubbery along the shore. And when it rubbed against the yacht, a muffled figure mounted theladder which hung in the shadows, and hastened through the rearhatchway and down into the depths of the boat. Then, long aftermidnight, the last farewell being said by the dizzy officials, and theechoes of _Adios_, _adios_, _amigos_! lingering among its tall spars, the _Cossack_ slipped noiselessly out of the Boca Chica, and set itscourse for New York. 

A few hours later, while the boat sped swiftly through the phosphorescentwaves, the escaped prisoner, Josè de Rincón, who had lain for a weekhidden in the bowels of old fort San Felipe, stood alone in the wonderfulsmoking room of the _Cossack_, and looked up at the sweet face picturedin the stained-glass window above. And then he turned quickly, for thedoor opened and a girl entered. A rush, a cry of joy, and his armsclosed about the fair vision that had sat by his side constantly duringthe four long years of his imprisonment. 

"Carmen!"

"My Josè!"

"I have solved my problem! I have proved God! I have found theChrist!"

"I knew you would, for he was with you always!"

"But--oh, you beautiful, beautiful girl!"

Then in a little while she gently released herself and went to thedoor through which she had entered. She paused for a moment to smileback at the enraptured man, then turned and flung the door wide. 

A woman entered, leading a young boy. The man uttered a loudexclamation and started toward her. 

"Ana!"

He stopped short and stared down at the boy. Then he lookedwonderingly at Carmen. 

"Yes, " she said, stooping and lifting the boy up before Josè, "it isAnita's babe--_and he sees_!"

The man clasped the child in his arms and buried his face in itshair. 

Verily, upon them that sat in darkness had the Light shined. 

CHAPTER 21

Another summer had come and gone. Through the trees in Central Parkthe afternoon sunlight, sifted and softened by the tinted autumnleaves, spread over the brown turf like a gossamer web. And it felllike a gentle benediction upon the massive figure of a man, walkingunsteadily beneath the trees, holding the hand of a young girl whosebeauty made every passer turn and look again. 

"Now, father, " laughed the girl, "once more! There! Why, you step offlike a major!"

They were familiar figures, out there in the park, for almost dailyduring the past few weeks they might have been seen, as the girllaughingly said, "practicing their steps. " And daily the man's controlbecame firmer; daily that limp left arm and leg seemed increasingly tomanifest life. 

On a bench near by sat a dark-featured woman. About her played herboy, filling the air with his merry shouts and his imperfect English. 

"There, father, comes Josè after us, " announced the girl, looking offwith love-lit eyes at an approaching automobile. "And Lewis is withhim. Now, mind, you are going to get into the car without any help!"

The man laughed, and declared vehemently that if he could not get inalone he would walk home. A few minutes later they had gone. 

The profound depth of those changes which had come into the richman's life, he himself might not fathom. But those who toileddaily with him over his great ledgers and files knew that thetransformation went far. There were flashes at times of his formervigor and spirit of domination, but there were also periods ofgrief that were heart-rending to behold, as when, poring over hisrecords for the name of one whom in years past he had ruthlesslywrecked, he would find that the victim had gone in poverty beyondhis power to reimburse him. And again, when his thought dwelt onAvon, and the carnal madness which had filled those new graves there, he would sink moaning into his chair and bury his drawn face in hishands and sob. 

And yet he strove madly, feverishly, to restore again to those fromwhom he had taken. The Simití company was revived, through his labors, and the great La Libertad restored to its reanimated stockholders. Work of development had begun on the property, and Harris was again inColombia in charge of operations. The Express was booming, and therich man had consecrated himself to the carrying out of its cleanpolicies. The mills at Avon were running day and night; and in a newlocation, far from the old-time "lungers' alley, " long rows of littlecottages were going up for their employes. The lawyer Collins had beenremoved, and Lewis Waite was to take his place within a week. FatherDanny, now recovered, rejoiced in resources such as he had never daredhope to command. 

And so the rich man toiled--ah, God! if he had only known before thatin the happiness of others lay his own. If only he could have knownthat but a moiety of his vast, unused income would have let floods ofsunshine into the lives of those dwarfed, stunted children who toiledfor him, and never played! Oh, if when he closed his mills in the dullmonths he had but sent them and their tired mothers to the countryfields, how they would have risen up and called him blessed! If hecould have but known that he was his brother's keeper, and in a sensethat the world as yet knows not! For he is indeed wise who loves hisfellow-men; and he is a fool who hates them!

The great Fifth Avenue mansion was dark, except where hung a clusterof glowing bulbs over the rich mahogany table in the library. Thereabout that table sat the little group of searchers after God, withtheir number augmented now in ways of which they could not havedreamed. And Hitt, great-souled friend of the world, was speakingagain as had been his wont in the days now gone. 

"The solution of the problems of mankind? Ah, yes, there is acure-all; there is a final answer to every ethical question, everysocial, industrial, economic problem, the problems of liquor, poverty, disease, war. And the remedy is so universal that it dissolves eventhe tangles of tariff and theology. What is it? Ah, my friends, thegirl who came among us to 'show the world what love will do' hastaught us by her own rich life--it is love. But not the sex-mesmerism, the covetousness, the self-love, which mask behind that heavenly name. For God is Love. And to know Him is to receive that marvelousChrist-principle which unlocks for mankind the door of harmony. 

"No, the world's troubles are not the fault of one man, nor of many, but of all who seek happiness in things material, and forget that thereal man is the likeness of spirit, and that joy is spiritual. Thetrusts, and the men of wealth, are not all malefactors; the churchesare not wholly filled with evil men. But all, yes all, have 'missedthe mark' through the belief that matter and evil are real, and mustgrope amid sickness, poverty, crime, and death, until they are willingto turn from such false beliefs, and from self, and seek their own inthe reflection of Him, who is Love, to their fellow-men. It is only asmen join to search for and apply the Christ-principle that they trulyunite to solve the world's sore problems and reveal the waitingkingdom of harmony, which is always just at hand. And it can be done. It must be, sometime. 

"In that day all shall know that cause and effect are mental. The manwho hears the tempter, the carnal mind's suggestion to enrich himselfmaterially at the cost of his brother, will know that it is but thevoice of mesmerism, that 'man-killer from the beginning', which bidshim sever himself from his God, who alone is infinite abundance. Thesociety woman who flits like a gorgeous butterfly about the courts offashion, her precious days wasted in motoring, her nights at cards, and whose vitality goes into dress, and into the watery schemes for'who shall be greatest' in the dismal realm of the human mind, mustlearn, willingly or through suffering, that her activities are butmesmeric shams that counterfeit the divine activity which manifests injoy and fullness for all. 

"Christianity? What is it but the Christ-knowledge, the knowledge ofgood, and its correlated knowledge, that evil is only the mesmericlie which has engulfed the world? But, oh, the depths of that divineknowledge! The knowledge which heals the sick, gives sight to theblind, and opens the prisons to them that are captive! We who aregathered here to-night, feeling in our midst that great, unseenPresence which makes for righteousness, know now that 'in my fleshshall I see God, ' for we have indeed already seen and known Him. "

With them sat the man who, swept by the storms of error and the carnalwinds of destruction, had solved his problem, even as the girl by hisside told him he should, and had been found, when his foul prisonopened, sitting "clothed and in his right mind" at the feet of theChrist. Jesus "saw the heavens opened, and the Spirit--God--like adove descending upon him--immediately the Spirit--carnal belief, error, the lie--driveth him into the wilderness. " And there he wasmade to prove God. So Josè de Rincón, when the light had come, yearsgone, in desolate Simití, had been bidden to know the one God, andnone else. But he wavered when the floods of evil rolled over him; hehad looked longingly back; he had clung too tightly to the humanconcept that walked with him like a shining light in those dark days. And so she had been taken from him, and he had been hurled into thewilderness--alone with Him whom he must learn to know if he would seeLife. 

Then self-consciousness went out, in those four years of hiscaptivity, and he passed from thence into consciousness of God. 

Then his great world-knowledge he saw to have been wholly untrue. Hisstore of truth he saw to have been but relative at best. His knowledgehad rested, he then knew, upon viewpoints which had been utterlyfalse. And so, like Paul, he died that he might live. He crucifiedSelf, that he might resurrect the image of God. 

"The world, " resumed Hitt, "still worships false gods, though itreaches out for Truth. And yet, what are we all seeking? Only astate of consciousness, a consciousness of good, of joy and harmony. Andwe are seeking to rid ourselves of the consciousness of evil, withits sin, its disease and death. But, knowing now that consciousnessis mental activity, the activity of thought, can we not see thatharmony and immortality are within our grasp? for they are functionsof right thought. Salvation is not from evil realities, but from thefalse sense of evil, even as Jesus taught and proved. The only salvationpossible to mankind is in learning to think as Jesus did--not yieldingour mentalities daily to a hodge-podge of mixed thoughts of good andevil, and then running to doctors and preachers when such yieldingbrings its inevitable result in sickness and death. Jesus insisted thatthe kingdom of heaven was within men, a tremendous potentialitywithin each one of us. How may it be reached? By removing hamperingfalse belief, by removing the limitations of superstition and humanopinion which hold its portals closed. True progress is the release ofmankind from materialism, with its enslaving drudgery, its woes, andits inevitable death. Mankind's chief difficulty is ignorance of whatGod is. Jesus proved Him to be mind, spirit. He proved Him to be thecreator of the spiritual universe, but not the originator of the lieof materiality. He showed matter to be but the manifestation of thefalse belief that creation is material. He showed it to be but asense-impression, without life, without stability, without existence, except the pseudo-existence which it has in the false thought ofwhich the human or carnal consciousness is formed. But the lack ofunderstanding of the real nature of matter, and the persistent belief inthe stability of its so-called laws, has resulted in centuries ofattempts to discredit the Bible records of his spiritual demonstrationsof God's omnipotence and immanence, and so has prevented the human mindfrom accepting the proofs which it so eagerly sought. And now, afternineteen centuries of so-called Christian teaching, the human mindremains still deeply embedded in matter, and subject to theconsentaneous human beliefs which it calls material laws. Jesusshowed that it was the communal mortal mind, with its false beliefsin matter, sin, disease, and death, that constituted 'the flesh'; heshowed that mortals are begotten of such false beliefs; he showedthat the material universe is but manifested human belief. And weknow from our own reasoning that we see not things, but our _thoughts_of things; that we deal not with matter, but with material mentalconcepts only. We know that the preachers have woefully missed themark, and that the medicines of the doctors have destroyed more livesthan wars and famine, and yet will we not learn of the Master? To reachGod through material thinking is utterly impossible, for He is spirit, and He can be cognized only by a spiritual consciousness. Yet such aconsciousness is ours, if we will but have it. 

"Ah, friends, God said: Let US make man in OUR image and likeness--letLife, Love, Spirit make its spiritual reflection. But where is thatman to-day? Buried deep beneath the dogma and the crystallized humanbeliefs of mortals--buried beneath 'the lie' which mankind acceptabout truth. Nothing but _scientific_ religion will meet humanity'sdire needs and reveal that man. And scientific religion admits ofactual, practical proof. Christianity is as scientific as mathematics, and quite as capable of demonstration. Its proofs lie in doing theworks of the Master. He is a Christian who does these works; he whodoes not is none. Christianity is not a failure, but organizedecclesiasticism, which always collapses before a world crisis, hasfailed utterly. The hideous chicane of imperial government andimperial religion against mankind has resulted in a Christian veneer, which cracks at the first test and reveals the unchanged human brutebeneath. The nations which writhe in deadly embrace to-day have neversought to prove God. They but emphasize the awful fact that the humanmind has no grasp upon the Principle which is God, and at a time ofcrisis reverts almost instantly to the primitive, despite so-calledculture and civilization. Yes, religion as a perpetuation of ancienthuman conceptions, of materialistic traditions and opinions of 'theFathers, ' is a flat failure. By it the people of great nations havebeen molded into servile submission to church and ruler--have beenpersuaded that wretchedness and poverty are eternal--that heaven is arealm beyond the grave, to which admission is a function of outwardoblation--and that surcease from ills here, or in the life to come, isa gift of the Church. Can we wonder that commercialism is mistaken bynations for progress? That king and emperor still call upon God tobless their barbaric attempts at conquest? And that human existenceremains, what it has always been, a ghastly mockery of Life?

"Healing the sick by applied Christianity is not the attempt to altera mental concept; it is the bringing out of harmony where before wasdiscord. Evil can not be 'thought away. ' He who indulges evil onlyproves his belief in its reality and power. Christian healing is not'mental suggestion, ' wherein all thought is material. When evilthinking is overcome, then the discords which result from it willdisappear from consciousness. That is the Christ-method. Behind allthat the physical senses seem to see, know, and feel, is the spiritualfact, perfect and eternal. Jesus healed the sick by establishing thisfact in the human consciousness. And we must learn to do likewise. Theorthodox churches must learn it. They must cease from the dust-man, whose breath is in his nostrils; they must cease from preaching evilas an awful reality, permitted by God, or existing despite Him; theymust know it as Jesus bade all men know it, as the lie about Truth. Then, by holding the divine ideal before the human mind, they willcause that mentality gradually to relinquish its false beliefs andcopy the real. And thus, step by step, changing from better to betterbeliefs, at length the human mind will have completely substitutedreality for unreality, and will be no more, even in thought. The 'oldman' will have given place to the 'new. ' This is the method of Jesus. There is no other. Yes, for the present we reckon with materialsymbols; we have not yet fully learned their unreality. But at length, if we are faithful, we shall lay them aside, and know only Truth andits pure manifestations. 

"Ah, my friends, how simple is Christianity! It is summed up in theSermon on the Mount. Our salvation is in righteousness. He who thinksright shall know things as they are. He who thinks wrong shall seem toknow them as they are not, and shall pass his days in sore travail, even in wars, famine, and utter misery. Then why not take up thedemonstration of Christianity in the spirit of joy and freedom fromprejudice with which we pursue our earthly studies, and as gladly, thankfully seek to prove it? For it, of all things, is worth while. Italone is the true business of men. For if what we have developed inour many talks regarding God, man, and the mental nature of theuniverse and all things is true, then are the things with which mennow occupy themselves worth while? No, decidedly no! But are thethings which we have developed true? Yes, for they can be and havebeen demonstrated. Then, indeed, are we without excuse. Carmen hasshown us the way. No, she is not unnatural; she is only divinelynatural. She has shown us what we all may become, if we but will. Shehas shown us what we shall be able to do when we are completely lostin accord with God, and recognize no other life, substance, nor lawthan His. But--

"'I form the light, and create darkness; I make peace, and createevil, ' cried the prophet. _Truth always has its suppositionalopposite!_ Choose ye then whom ye will serve. All is subject to proof. Only that which is demonstrably true, not after the change which wecall death, but here this side of the grave, can stand. The only testof a Christian is in the 'signs following. ' Without them his faith isbut sterile human belief, and his god but the distorted human conceptwhom kings beseech to bless their slaughter. 

 "'Cease ye from man, whose breath is in his nostrils; for wherein is he to be accounted of?

 "'His breath goeth forth, he returneth to his earth; in that very day his thoughts perish. 

 "'That which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. 

 "'Wherefore henceforth know we no man after the flesh; yea, though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now henceforth know we him no more. '"

The fire crackled briskly on the great hearth. Carmen rose and turnedoff the light above them. All drew their chairs about the cheeryblaze. 

Silence, sacred, holy, lay upon them. The rich man, now possessingtreasures beyond his wildest dreams, sat holding his daughter's hand. Her other hand lay in Josè's. Sidney had just entered; and Haynerd hadsent word that he would join them soon. 

Then the silence was broken by the rich man. His voice was unsteadyand low. 

"My friends, sorrow and joy fill my heart to-night. To the first I amresigned; it is my due; and yet, were it greater, I know not how Icould live. But the joy--who can understand it until he has passedthrough death into life! This little girl's mother knew not, nor didI, that she was royal born. Sometimes I wonder now if it is really so. And yet the evidence is such that I can scarcely doubt. We met in thesun-kissed hills of Granada; and we loved. Her old nurse wasArgus-eyed; and our meetings were such as only lovers can effect. Iwas young, wild, and my blood coursed like a torrent through my veins!But I loved her, yes, base though I was, I loved her. And in theseyears since I left her in that little house in Bogotá, I have sufferedthe agonies of the lost when her memory and my own iniquity fell uponme and smote me sore--

"We were married in Spain, and the marriage was performed by PadreRafaél de Rincón. "

"My uncle!" cried the startled Josè. 

"And then we fled, " continued Ames. "I was rich; I was roaming theworld, extending my vast business interests; and I took her toColombia, where I labored with the politicians in Bogotá to grant metimber and cattle concessions. We had a cottage on the outskirts ofthe city, where we were happy. With us lived her faithful old nurse, whom she would not leave in Spain--

"Then, one day, came a cable message that my father had died. The newstransformed me. I knew I must return at once to New York. But--I wouldnot take a wife back with me! Why, I know not. I was mad! And I kissedher tear-stained face, and bade her wait, for I would return and makeher happy. And then--

"Months later I wrote to her, and, receiving no reply, I causedinquiry to be made. But she had gone--whither, no one knew. The oldnurse, too, had disappeared. I never learned that a woman had beenleft at Badillo to die. And she was not known in Bogotá. She wastimid, and went out seldom. And then--then I thought that a marriagehere would strengthen my position, for I was powerful and proud. 

"Oh, the years that her sad face haunted me! I was mad, mad! I knownot why, but when the _Cossack_ was built I had her portrait in glassset in the smoking room. And night after night I have sat before itand cursed myself, and implored her to forgive!"

"But--the locket?" said Father Waite. 

"It came from Spain. I was Guillermo to her, and she Dolores to me. But I had never forgotten it. Had Carmen ever worn it in my presence Imust have recognized it at once. Oh, God, that she had! What would itnot have saved!"

"Father!" The girl's arms were about his neck. 

"But, " said Ames, choking down his sorrow, "that man is dead. He, likeGoliath, fought Truth, and the Truth fell upon him, crushing him topowder. The man who remains with you now lives only in this littlegirl. And she has brought me my own son, Sidney, and another, Josè. All that I have is theirs, and they will give it to the world. I wouldthat she could have brought me that noble black man, Rosendo, who laiddown his beautiful life when he saw that his work was done. I learnfrom my inquiries that he and Doña Maria lived with Don Nicolás far upthe Boque river during the troublous times when Simití was burned anddevastated. And that, when the troops had gone, they returned to theirdesolated home, and died, within a month of each other. What do I notowe to them! And can my care of their daughter Ana and her little sonever cancel the debt? Alas, no!"

Sidney turned to the man. "Father, does Josè know that it was Kathleenwhom he rescued from the Tiber in Rome, years ago, and who caused himto lose his notebook?"

Another exclamation burst from Josè. Ames shook his head. "No, Sidney, we had not told him. Ah, how small is the world! And how inextricablybound together we all are! And, Josè, I have not told you that thewoman who lived and died alone in the limestone caves near Honda, andwhose story you had from Don Jorge in Simití, was doubtless thefaithful old nurse of Dolores. My investigations all but confirm it. Padre Rafaél de Rincón maintained her there. "

Haynerd entered the room at that moment, and with him came Miss Wall. 

"Now, " said Hitt softly, "the circle is complete. Carmen, may I--"

The girl rose at once and went into the music room. Those who remainedsat in awed, expectant silence. Another presence stole softly in, butthey saw him not. Soon through the great rooms and marble hallsdrifted the low, weird melody which the girl had sung, long before, inthe dreary Elwin school. 

In the flickering light of the fire strange shapes took form; and theshadows that danced on the walls silhouetted scenes from the dimmingpast. From out their weird imagery rose a single form. Into it passedthe unseen presence. Slowly it rose before them from out the shadows. It was black of face, but its wondrous heart which had cradled thenameless babe of Badillo glistened like drifting snow. 

The last sweet notes of the plaintive Indian lament fluttered from thegirl's lips, echoed among the marble pillars, and died away down thedistant corridors. She returned and bent over her father with a tendercaress. 

Then the great black man in the shadows extended his arms for a momentabove them, and faded from their sight. There was the sound of lowweeping in the room. For

 "these are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. "

GLOSSARY

A

á buen precio, for a good price. Adios, good-bye. Adioscito, good-bye (used among intimates). Alcalde, mayor, chief of village. Algarroba, the carob-tree bean. Alpargates, hempen sandals. Americano, American. Amigo, amiga, friend. Anisado, liquor made from anise-seed. á propósito, by-the-bye, aproposarena, bull ring, circle where bull-fights are held. Arepa, corn cake baked in ashes. Arma blanca, steel arms, generally the machete. Arrastra, or arrastre, a mining mill. Arreglo, arrangement. Arriba, above. Arroyo, ditch, small stream, creek. Asequia, gutter, conduit for water. Auto da fé, public punishment by the Holy Inquisition. Avispas, wasps. Ay de mí, ah me! woe is me! alas!

B

bagre, fish from Lake Simití, dried and salted. Baile, dance. Barra, bar of wood or iron. Batea, a wooden basin corresponding to the gold-pan. Bejuco, thin filament, growing on tropical trees. Also, vine. Bendita virgen, Blessed Virgin. Bien, well. Bien pues, well, then. Billetes, bank notes, government notes, paper money. Bodega, warehouse. Also, depot, supply house, cellar. Boga, boatman, rower. Bóveda, vault, or arched enclosure. Burial vault, tomb. Bueno, good. Buen padre, good father. 

C

cabildo, corporation of a town, town council. Calentura, fever. Camino real, royal road, highway. Canasto, large basket, waste-basket. Cantina, saloon, public drinking place. Caño, canal. Caoba, mahogany tree or wood. Capilla mayor, high altar, principal chapel. Capitán, captain. Caramba, an interjection of no particular meaning. Cárcel, jail. Cargadores, human pack-carriers, porters. Carísíma, dearest little girl. Carita, dear little girl. Caro amigo, dear friend. Catalina, Katharine. Cayman, crocodile. Champán, a native thatch-roofed river boat. Chiquita mía, my dearest little girl. Chiquito-a, dearest little one. Cielo, heaven. Ciénaga, a marsh or moor. Sometimes lake. Cierto, certain, sure, surely, certainly. Cochero, coachman, driver. Cola, a tropical non-alcoholic drink. Cólera, cholera. Colibrí, humming bird. Comadre, friend, when used casually addressing a woman. Comjejen, white wood-eating ant. Compadre, friend, when used casually addressing a man. Conque, adios, "well, good-bye. "conque, hasta luego, "well, good-bye until we meet again. "conqueros, conquerors. Conquistadores, conquerors. Cordilleras, chain or ridge of mountains. Corriente, right, correct. Costumbre del país, national custom. Cura, priest. 

D

de nada, don't mention it. Desayuno, breakfast. Dia, day. Diablo, devil. Dios arriba, God above!dios mío, my God!dios nos guarde, God preserve us!dios y diablo, God and devil!dique, canal, channel. Doncella, young woman. 

E

el, the (masculine). Enamorada, infatuated one (female). En manos muertas, "in dead hands. "escapulario, scapulary. Escritorio, writing desk. 

F

feria, fair, festival. Fiasco, failure. Finca, farm. Flor, flower (pl. Flores)

G

garrafón, jug. Garrapata, wood-tick. Garza, heron. Gracias, thanks, thank you. Guaquero, hunter of Indian graves. Guerrillas, band of guerrillas. 

H

hacienda, farm. Hada, witch. Hermano, brother. Hermoso, beautiful. Hermosísimo-a, most beautiful. Hidalgo, nobleman, hola! halloo!hombre, man. Hostia, sacred wafer used in the mass. 

I

iguana, large edible lizard. Infanta, Spanish princess. 

J

jejen, gnat. Jipijapa, very fine woven straw, used in Panamá hats. Jipitera, child's disease, due to eating dirt. 

L

la, the (feminine). Lianas, vines. Llanos, flat plains. Loado sea el buen dios, praised be the good God!loco, crazy, mad. 

M

macana, a very hard, tough palm, used in hut construction. Machete, cane-knife, large knife used for trail-cutting. Machetero, trail-cutter. Madre de dios, mother of God. Maestro, master. Maldito, cursed, cursed one. Mantilla, head-scarf of lace. Mariposa, butterfly. Matador, bull-fighter who slays the bull with the sword. Médico, doctor. Mestizo, half-breed. Milagro, miracle. Also, small gold image, blessed by a priest, and supposed to work a cure. Mora, bramble-bush. Mozo, waiter, servant, also young boy or man. Muchacho, boy. Muy bien, very well. Muy buenos dias, "good morning. "

N

na, an expression of disagreement, disavowal, or demurral. Nada, nothing, nada más, nothing more. Nombre de dios, name of God. 

O

ojalá, "would to God!" "God grant!"olla, pot, or kettle. Also, a stew of meat and vegetables. Oporto, port wine. 

P

padre, father, Father, priest. Panela, the crude sugar of tropical America. Pantano, swamp. Pater-noster, the Lord's prayer. Patio, the interior court of a dwelling, yard, garden. Patron (naut. ), cockswain of a boat. Peon, day-laborer. Peso, dollar. Peso oro, a dollar in gold. Peso y medio, a dollar and a half. Petate, straw mat on which the poor people sleep. Plaga, plague, pestilence. Platano, plantain tree, or its fruit. Playa, shore, beach, strand. Policía, police. Por, for, by. Por dios, by God!por el amor del cielo, for the love of heaven!por supuesto, of course. Posada, inn, hotel, restaurant. Pozo, well, pond, puddle. Pronto, soon, quickly. Pueblo, town, settlement, people. 

Q

quebrada, creek, small stream. Qué chiste, what a joke!qué importa, what does it matter?quemador, public square where heretics were burned. Queridito-a, dear little one. Quien sabe, who knows?

R

real (reales), a silver coin, valued at 5, 10, or 12-1/2 cents. Religion de dinero, a religion of money. Ruana, a cape worn by the poor males of tropical America. Rurales, country people, peasants, farmers. 

S

sacristía, sacristy. San benito, the garb worn by condemned heretics. Santa maría, Saint Mary. Santa virgen, the sainted Virgin. Santo dios, the blessed God!selva, forest. Seminario, seminary. Señora, Madam, Mrs. , a mature woman, a married woman. Señorita, Miss, a young unmarried woman. Sepulcros, tombs, graves. Sierras, mountain chain. Siesta, the midday hour of rest, the hottest part of the day. Sobrinito, little nephew. 

T

temprano, early. Terciana, intermittent fever. Tía, aunt. Tierra caliente, hot lands. Tío mío, my uncle. Tiple, a small guitar. Toldo, awning, the mosquito netting hung over beds. Trago, tragito, a drink, a draught. Tumba, tomb, grave. 

Y

ya está, vámonos, all ready, let's go!yucca, or yuca, the yucca plant or its roots. 

DONE INTO A BOOK FOR THE

MAESTRO COMPANY BY W. B. 

CONKEY COMPANY, CHICAGO