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“Caramba!Padre, it was a lucky thought! I located the center of the big bowl as nearly as possible, and began to dig. I washed some of the dirt taken a foot or two below the surface. Hombre! it left a string of gold clear around thebatea! I became so excited I could scarcely dig. Every batea, as I got deeper and deeper, yielded more and more gold! I hurried back to the Tiguí for my supplies; and then camped up there and washed the sand and clay for two weeks, until I had to come back to Simití for food. Fortypesos oroin fifteen days!Caramba!And there is more. And all concentrated from the mud bricks of that old, forgotten town in the mountains, miles back of Popales! May the Virgin bless that deer and mend its hurt leg!”
One hundred and sixty francs in shining gold flakes! And who knew how much more to be had for the digging!
“Ah, Padre,” mused Rosendo, “it is wonderful how things turn out––that is, when, as the little Carmen says, you think right! I thought I’d find it––I knew it was right! And here it is!Caramba!”
At the mention of Carmen’s name Josè again became troubled. Rosendo as yet did not know of Diego’s presence in Simití. Should he tell him? It might lead to murder. Rosendo would learn of it soon enough; and Josè dared not cast a blight upon the happiness of this rare moment. He would wait.
As they sat reunited at the supper table in Rosendo’s house, a constant stream of townspeople passed and repassed the door, some stopping to greet the returned prospector, others lingering to witness Rosendo’s conduct when he should learn of Diego’s presence in the town, although no one would tell him of it. The atmosphere was tense with suppressed excitement, and Josè trembled with dread. Doña Maria moved quietly about, giving no hint of the secret she carried. Carmen laughed and chatted, but did not again mention the man from whose presence she had fled to the shales that morning. Who could doubt that in the midst of the prevalent mental confusion she had gone out there “to think”? And having performed that duty, she had, as usual, left her problem with her immanent God.
“I will go up and settle with Don Mario this very night,” Rosendo abruptly announced, as they rose from the table.
“Not yet, friend!” cried Josè quickly. “Lázaro has told you of the revolution; and we have many plans to consider, now that we have found gold. Come with me to the shales. We will not be interrupted there. We can slip out through the rear door, and so avoid these curious people. I have much to discuss with you.”
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Rosendo chuckled. “My honest debts first,buen Cura,” he said sturdily. And throwing back his shoulders he strutted about the room with the air of a plutocrat. With his bare feet, his soiled, flapping attire, and his swelling sense of self-importance he cut a comical figure.
“But, Rosendo––” Josè was at his wits’ end. Then a happy thought struck him. “Why, man! I want to make you captain of the militia we are 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 and strode proudly around the room. “Caramba! Capitán Don Rosendo Ariza, S!Ha! Shall I carry a sword and wear gold braid?––But these fellows are mighty curious,” he muttered, looking out through the door at the loitering townsfolk. “The shales, then, Padre! Close the front door, Carmencita.”
Josè scarcely breathed until, skirting the shore of the lake and making a detour of the town, he and Rosendo at length reached the shale beds unnoticed.
“Rosendo, the gold deposit that you have discovered––is it safe? Could others find it?” queried Josè at length.
“Never, Padre! No trail leads to it. And no one would think of looking there for gold. I discovered it by the merest chance, and I left no trace of my presence. Besides, there are no gold hunters in that country, and very few people in the entire district of Guamocó.”
“And how long will it take you to wash out the deposit, do you think?”
“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 then know 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 when peace is restored?”
“Juan might go down each month,” Rosendo suggested.
“Impossible! The expense would be greater than the amount shipped. And it would not be safe. Besides, our work must be done with the utmost secrecy. No one but ourselves must know of your discovery. And no one else in Simití must know where we are sending the gold. Rosendo, it is a great problem.”
“Caramba, yes!”
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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 deeply religious nature, possibly her father was a priest?”
“Caramba, no!” ejaculated Rosendo, turning upon Josè. “What puts that 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’s simple manner of settling the argument.
Its force appealed to Josè, and he felt a shade of relief. But, if Diego were not the father of Carmen, what motive had he for wishing to take her with him, other than to train her eventually to become his concubine? The thought maddened him. He almost decided to tell Rosendo.
“But, Padre, we came out here to talk about the militia of which I am to be captain.Bien, we must begin work to-morrow.Hombre, but the señora’s eyes will stand out when she sees me marching at the head of the 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 so afraid of revolutions that it prohibits the importation of arms. But even if you could, it would cost not less than fiftypesos oro.”
“Fiftypesos!Caramba!” exclaimed the artless fellow. “Then I get no gun! But now let us name those who will form the company.”
By dwelling on the pleasing theme, Josè managed to keep Rosendo engaged until fatigue at length drove the old man to seek his bed. The town was wrapped in darkness as they passed through its quiet streets, and the ancient Spanish lantern, hanging crazily from its moldering sconce on the corner of Don Felipe’s house, threw the only light into the black mantle that lay upon the main thoroughfare.
At sunrise, Josè was awakened by Rosendo noisily entering128his house. A glance at the old man showed that he was laboring under strong emotion.
“What sort of friendship is this,” he demanded curtly, “that you keep me from learning of Diego’s presence in Simití? It was a trick you served me––and friends do not so to one another!” He stood looking darkly at the priest.
“Have you seen him, then? Good heavens, Rosendo! what have you done to him?” cried Josè, hastily leaving his bed.
“There, comfort yourself, Padre,” replied Rosendo, a sneer curling his lips. “Your friend is safe––for the present. He and his negro rascals fled 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 you kept me out on the shales.Buen arreglo, no?”
“Yes, Rosendo,” replied Josè gladly, “an excellent arrangement to keep you from dipping your hands in his foul blood. Why, man! is your vision 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 rolled down 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 worth it?”
“Na, Padre, but I would have escaped to Guamocó, to the gold I have discovered. There no one would have found me. And you would have kept me supplied; and I would have given you the gold I washed to care for her––”
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 the Church is back of him, and they will come and steal her away––”
How childish, and yet how great he was in his wonderful love, thought Josè. He pitied him from the bottom of his heart; he loved him immeasurably; yet he knew the old man’s judgment was unsound in this case.
“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 a little while, that a much greater good may follow.”
He hesitated. Then––“You do not think Diego is her father?”
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“A thousand devils, no!” shouted Rosendo, springing up. “He the father of that angel-child?Cielo!His brats would be serpents! But I am losing time––” He turned to the door.
“Rosendo!” cried the priest in fresh alarm. “Where are you going? What are you––”
“I am going after Diego! Juan and Lázaro go with me! Before sundown that 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 Diego nothing can save her from Wenceslas! Rosendo, for God’s sake, listen!”
But the old man, with his huge strength, tossed the frail priest lightly aside and rushed into the street. Blind with rage, he did not see Carmen standing a short distance from the door. The child had been sent to summon him to breakfast. Unable to check his momentum, the big man crashed full into her and bore her to the ground beneath him. As she fell her head struck the sharp edge of an ancient paving stone, and she lay quite still, while the warm blood slowly trickled through her long curls.
Uttering a frightened cry, Josè rushed to the dazed Rosendo and got him to his feet. Then he picked up the child, and, his heart numb with fear, bore her into the house.
Clasping Carmen fiercely in his arms, Josè tried to aid Doña Maria in staunching the freely flowing blood. Rosendo, crazed with grief, bent over them, giving vent to moans which, despite his own fears, wrung the priest’s heart with pity for the suffering old man. At length the child opened her eyes.
“Praise God!” cried Rosendo, kneeling and showering kisses upon her hands.“Loado sea el buen Dios! Caramba! Caramba!”
“Padre Rosendo,” the girl murmured, smiling down at him, “your thoughts were driving you, just like Benjamín drives his oxen. And they were bad, or you wouldn’t have knocked me over.”
“Bad!” Rosendo went to the doorway and squatted down upon the dirt floor in the sunlight. “Bad!” he repeated. “Caramba, but they were murder-thoughts!”
“And they tried to make you murder me, didn’t they, padre dear?” She laughed. “But it didn’t really happen, anyway,” she added.
Rosendo buried his head in his hands and groaned aloud. Carmen slipped down from Josè’s lap and went unsteadily to the old man.
“They were not yours, those thoughts, padre dear,” putting her arms around his neck. “But they were whipping you130hard, just as if you belonged to them. And see, it just shows that bad thoughts can’t do anything. Look, I’m all right!” She stood off and smiled at him.
Rosendo reached out and clasped her in his long arms. “Chiquita,” he cried, “if you were not, your old padre Rosendo would throw himself into the lake!”
“More bad thoughts, padre dear!” She laughed and held up a warning finger. “But I was to tell you thedesayunowas ready; and see, we have forgotten all about it!” Her merry laugh rang through the room like a silver bell.
After breakfast Josè took Rosendo, still shaking, into the parish house. “I think,” he said gravely, “that we have learned another lesson, 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 always the vital thing to be reckoned with, more than we have even suspected before. I believe there is a mental law, though I cannot formulate it, that in some way the thoughts we hold use us, and become externalized in actions. You were wild with fear for Carmen, and your thoughts of Diego were murderous. Bien, they almost drove you to murder, and they reacted 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 to think of anything––now.”
“Ah,amigo,” said Josè with deep compassion, “I, too, have had a deep lesson in thinking these past two days. I had evolved many beautiful theories, and worked out wonderful plans during these weeks of peace. Then suddenly came the news of the revolution, and, presto! they all flew to pieces! But Carmen––nothing disturbs her. Is it because she is too young to fear? I think not,amigo, I think not. I think, rather, that it is because she is too wise.”
“But––she is not of the earth, Padre.” The old man shook his head dubiously.
“Rosendo, she is! She is human, just as we are. But in some way she has learned a great truth, and that is that wrong thinking brings all the 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,whydo we not practice it? Why do I yield so readily to fear; and you to revenge? I rather think if we loved our enemies we would have none, for our only enemies are the thoughts that become externalized in wrong thought-concepts. And even this externalization is only131in our own consciousness. It is there, and only there, that we see evil.”
“Quien sabe?Padre,” replied Rosendo, slowly shaking his head. “We know 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 danger threatens 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 trust her to Him?” Josè spoke with the conviction of right, however inconsistent his past conduct might have been.
“True, Padre––and I must try to love Diego––I know––though I hate him as the devil hates the cross! Carmen would say that he was used by bad thoughts, wouldn’t she?”
“Just so. She would not see the man, but the impersonal thought that seems to use him. And I believe she knows how to meet that kind of thought.”
“I know it, Padre.Bien, I must try to love him. Iwilltry. And––Padre, whenever he comes into my mind I will try to think of him as God’s child––though I know he isn’t!”
Josè laughed loudly at this. “Hombre!” he exclaimed. “You must not think of the human Diego as God’s child! You must always think of therealchild of God for which this human concept, Diego, stands in your 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 here comes the Alcalde.Caramba!what does he want?”
With much oily ceremony and show of affection, Don Mario greeted the pair.
“I bring a message from Padre Diego,” he announced pompously, after the exchange of courtesies. “Bien, it is quite unfortunate that our friend Rosendo feels so hard toward him, especially as Don Diego has so long entrusted Carmen to Rosendo’s care. But––his letter,Señor Padre,” 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 me132in 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.”
“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 me132in 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 finally said, “do you believe Diego to be the father of Carmen?”
“Cierto, Padre, I know it!” replied the official with fervor. “He has 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 gives the order to deliver her to me. He has kindly arranged to relieve you and Rosendo of further care of the girl.”
“Don Mario,” said Josè with terrible earnestness, “I will give you the benefit of the doubt, and say that Diego has basely deceived you. But as for him––he lies.”
“Hombre!But I can not help if you disbelieve him. Still, you must comply with his request; otherwise, the Bishop may compel you to do so.”
Josè realized the terrible possibility of truth in this statement. For an instant all his old despair rushed upon him. Then he braced himself. Rosendo was holding his wrath in splendid check.
“Bien, Don Mario,” resumed Josè, after a long meditation. “Let us ask our good Rosendo to leave us for a little moment that we may with greater freedom discuss the necessary arrangements.Bien, amigo!” holding up a hand to check Rosendo, who was rising menacingly before the Alcalde. “You will leave it to me.” He threw Rosendo a significant look; and the latter, after a momentary hesitation, bowed and passed out of the room.
“A propósito, amigo,” resumed Josè, turning to the Alcalde and assuming utter indifference with regard to Carmen. “As you will recall, I stood security for Rosendo’s debts. The thirtypesoswhich he owes you will be ready this evening.”
The Alcalde smiled genially and rubbed his fat palms together. “Muy bien,” he murmured.
Josè reflected. Then:
“But, Don Mario, with regard to Carmen, justice must be done, is it not so?”
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“Cierto, Padre; and Padre Diego has the proofs––”
“Certainly; I accept your word for your conviction in the matter. But you will agree that there is something to be said for Rosendo. He has fed, clothed, and sheltered the girl for some eight years. Let us see, at the rate you charge yourpeones, say, fifty pesos a day, that would amount to––”
He took paper and pencil from the table and made a few figures.
“––to just fourteen hundred and sixtypesos oro,” he concluded. “This, then, is the amount now due Rosendo for the care of Diego’s child. You say he has made arrangements with you to care for her until he 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 her long maintenance?”
“Ca––ram––ba!Fourteen hundred and sixtypesos oro! Why––it is a fortune!” ejaculated the outwitted Alcalde, his eyes bulging over his puffy cheeks.
“And,” continued Josè calmly, “if we deliver the girl to you to-day, I will retain the thirtypesos orowhich Rosendo owes you, and you will stand surety for the balance of the debt, fourteen hundred and thirty, 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 thirtypesos oro?”
“To-night. And as much more for additional supplies. We are still working together, are we not, Don Mario?” he added suggestively.
Josè in Simití with money discounted a million Diegos fleeing through the 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 a significant look came into his face. Then he rose and bowed the Alcalde 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 back into his house with a great sigh of relief. Another problem had been met––temporarily.
He summoned Carmen to the day’s lessons.
134CHAPTER 17
Within the month Juan brought from Bodega Central the glad news of the revolution’s utter collapse. The anticlerical element, scenting treachery in their own ranks, and realizing almost from the outset that the end was a matter of only a few weeks, offered to capitulate on terms which they felt would be less distressing to their pride than those which their victors might dictate after inflicting a crushing defeat. The conservatives did not take advantage of thefiasco, but offered conciliation in the way of reapportioning certain minor public offices, and a show of somewhat lessened clerical influence. Peace followed rapidly. The fires of Jacobinism and popery were again banked, while priest and politician, statesman and orator set up the board 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 state of extreme agitation, and had hurriedly set out that same day along the trail to the San Lucas district. Rosendo, meanwhile, assured that Diego would not return in the immediate future, yielded to Josè’s persuasion and departed at once for Guamocó on the news of the revolution’s close. Simití had remained unmolested; and now, with the assurance of indefinite peace, the old town dropped quickly back into her wonted state of listless repose, and yielded to the drowsy, dreamy influences that hover always about this scene of mediaeval romance.
Josè had recovered his equipoise; and even when Juan, returning from his next trip down to the river, brought the priest another sharp letter from Wenceslas, written in the Bishop’s name, he read it without a tremor. The letter complained of Josè’s silence, and especially of his failure to assist the Catholic cause in this crisal hour by contributions of Peter’s Pence. Nor had any report been received in Cartagena relative to the state of the parish of Simití, its resources and communicants; and not apesohad been offered to the support of their so dear citadel at a time when its enemies threatened its gates. Josè smiled happily as he penned his reply, for he knew that with Rosendo’s next return their contributions to Cartagena would begin. That meant the quieting of Wenceslas, regardless of whatever report Diego might make. And it was evident from this letter that neither Diego nor the Alcalde had as yet communicated anything of a startling nature to135Wenceslas regarding those things to which the priest had consecrated himself in Simití.
Josè’s life was never before so full. And never so sweet. To his little flock he was now preaching the Word of God only as he could interpret it to meet their simple needs. Gradually, as he got closer to them, he sought to enlighten them and to draw them at least a little way out of the dense materialism of their present religious beliefs. He also strove to give them the best of his own worldly knowledge, and to this end was talking to them three nights a week in the church building, where the simple people hung upon his words like children enwrapped in fairy lore. He was holding regular Sunday services, and offering Masses during the week for those of his parishioners who requested them, and who would have been shocked, puzzled, and unhappy had he refused to do so, or attempted to prove their uselessness. He was likewise saying diurnal Masses for the little Maria, to whom, as she lay breathing her last in his arms in Cartagena, he had given the promise to offer them daily in her behalf for, a year.
Nor was this the extent of his loving sacrifice for the girl. He had already sent a small sum of money to Catalina by Captain Julio, who promised to arrange at Calamar for its transmission, and for the safe convoy of a similar small packet monthly to Cartagena and into the hands of the two women who were caring for the infant son of Wenceslas and the ill-fated Maria. He had promised her that night that he would care for her babe. And his life had long since shown what a promise meant to him. He knew he would be unable to learn of the child’s progress directly from these women, for they were both illiterate. But Captain Julio brought an encouraging message from them, and assured Josè that he would always make inquiry for the babe on his trips down the river. Josè’s long-distance dealings with the genial captain had been conducted through Juan, who had constituted himself the priest’s faithful servant and the distant worshiper of the child Carmen.
“Padre Josè,” Juan had said one day, striving vainly to hide his embarrassment, “the little Carmen grows very beautiful. She is like the Pascua-flower, that shines through the ferns in thecaño. She is like the great blue butterfly, that floats on the sunbeams that sift through 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 ground with his bare toes.
“Padre,” he resumed, “the little Carmen will marry––some day, will she not?”
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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, already I adore her!”
Josè could not be angry. The faithful lad was deeply sincere. And the girl would reach the marriageable age of that country in all too short a time.
“But, Juan,” he remonstrated, “you are too young! And Carmen––why, she is but a child!”
“True, Padre. But I am seventeen––and I will wait for her. Only say now 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 arm affectionately about the strong young shoulders.
“Wait, Juan, and see what develops. She is very, very young. We must all wait. And, meanwhile, do you serve her, faithfully, as you see Rosendo and me doing.”
The boy’s face brightened with hope. “Padre,” he exclaimed, “I am her slave!”
Josè went back to his work with Carmen with his thought full of mingled conjecture and resolve. He had thus far outlined nothing for the girl’s future. Nor had he the faintest idea what the years might bring forth. But he knew that, in a way, he was aiding in the preparation of the child for something different from the dull, animal existence with which she was at present surrounded, and that her path in life must eventually lead far, far away from the shabby, crumbling town which now constituted her material world. His task he felt to be tremendous in the responsibility which it laid upon him. What had he ever known of the manner of rearing children! He had previously given the question of child-education but scant consideration, although he had always held certain radical ideas regarding it; and some of these he was putting to the test. But had his present work been forecast while he lay sunken in despair on the river steamer, he would have repudiated the prediction as a figment of the imagination. Yet the gleam which flashed through his paralyzed brain that memorable day in the old church, when Rosendo opened his full heart to him, had roused him suddenly from his long and despondent lethargy, and worked a quick and marvelous renovation in his wasted life. Following the lead of this unusual child, he was now, though with many vicissitudes, slowly passing out of his prison of egoism, and into the full, clear sunlight of a world which he knew to be far less material than spiritual.
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With the awakening had come the almost frenzied desire to realize in Carmen what he had failed to develop within himself; a vague hope that she might fill the void which a lifetime of longing had expressed. A tremendous opportunity now presented. Already the foundation had been well 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 more than faintly the awful power for good or evil which a parent wields over a child. He had no more than the slightest conception of the mighty problem of child-education. And now Carmen herself had shown him that real education must be reared upon a foundationwholly spiritual. Yet this, he knew, was just what the world’s educators did not do. He could see now how in the world the religious instinct of the child is early quenched, smothered into complete or partial extinction beneath the false tutelage of parents and teachers, to whom years and adult stature are synonymous with wisdom, and who themselves have learned to see the universe only through the opaque lenses of matter and chance.
“If children were not falsely educated to know all manner of evil,” he mused, “what spiritual powers might they not develop in adult life, powers that are as yet not even imagined! But their primitive religious instinct is regarded by the worldly-wise parent as but a part of the infant existence, which must soon give place to the more solid and real beliefs and opinions which the world in general regards as established and conventional, even though their end is death. And so they teach their children to make evil real, even while admonishing them to protect themselves against it and eventually so to rise as to overcome it, little realizing that the carnal belief of the reality of evil which a child is taught to accept permeates its pure thought like an insidious poison, and becomes externalized in the conventional routine existence of mind in matter, soul in body, a few brief years of mingled good and evil, and then darkness––the end here certain; the future life a vague, impossible conjecture.”
Josè determined that Carmen’s education should be spiritual, largely because he knew, constituted as she was, it could not well be otherwise. And he resolved that from his teachings she should glean nothing but happiness, naught but good. With his own past as a continual warning, he vowed first that never should the mental germ of fear be planted within this child’s mind. He himself had cringed like a coward before it all his desolate life. And so his conduct had been consistently slavish, specious, and his thought stamped with the brand of the counterfeit. He knew not how much longer he must struggle138with it. 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 bore the almost ineradicable mold of the fear deeply graven into it by the ignorant opinions, the worldly, material, unspiritual beliefs of his dear but unwise parents. His life had been hedged with baleful shadows because of it; and over every bright picture there hung its black draping. As he looked back over the path along which he had come, he could see every untoward event, every unhappiness and bitter disappointment, as the externalization of fear in some form, the germ of which had been early planted in the fertile soil of his plastic brain. Without it he might have risen to towering heights. Under its domination he had sunk until the swirling stream of life had eddied him upon the desolate shores of Simití. In the hands of the less fearful he had been a puppet. In his own eyes he was a fear-shaped manikin, the shadow of God’s real man. The fear germ had multiplied within him a billionfold, and in the abundant crop had yielded a mental depression and deep-seated melancholy that had utterly stifled his spirit and dried the marrow of his bones.
They were not pleasant, these thoughts. But now Josè could draw from them something salutary, something definite to shape and guide his work with Carmen. She, at least, should not grow up the slave of fearsome opinions and beliefs born of dense ignorance. Nor should the baseless figments of puerile religious systems find lodgment within her clear thought. The fear element, upon which so much of so-called Christian belief has been reared, and the damnable suggestions of hell and purgatory, of unpardonable sin and endless suffering, the stock-in-trade of poet, priest and prelate up to and overlapping our present brighter day, should remain forever a closed volume to this child, a book as wildly imaginative and as unacceptable as the fabled travels of Maundeville.
“I believe,” he would murmur to himself, as he strolled alone in the dusk beside the limpid lake, “that if I could plant myself firmly on the Scriptural statement that God is love, that He is good; and if I could regard Him as infinite mind, while at the same time striving to recognize no reality, no intelligence or life in things material, I could eventually triumph over the whole false concept, and rise out of beliefs of sickness, discord, and death, into an unalterable consciousness of good only.”
He had made a beginning when he strove to realize that man is not separated from God; that God is not a far-off abstraction; and that infinite mind is, as Carmen insisted, “everywhere.”
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“It is only the five physical senses that tell us evil is real,” he reflected. “Indeed, without their testimony we would be utterly unconscious of evil! And I am convinced that their testimony is specious, and that we see, hear, and feel only in thought, or in belief. We think the sensations of seeing, hearing, and feeling come to us through the medium of these senses as outward, fleshly contrivances, which in some way communicate with the mind and bridge the gulf between the material and the mental. In reality, we do but see, hear and feelour own thoughts! The philosophers, many of them, said as much centuries ago. So did Jesus. But––the human mind has been mesmerized, simply mesmerized!”
These things he pondered day by day, and watched to see them wrought out in the life of Carmen. “Ah, yes,” he would sometimes say, as spiritual ideas unfolded to him, “you evolve beautiful theories, my good Josè, and you say many brave things. But, when the day of judgment comes, as it did when Juan brought you the news of the revolution, then, alas! your theories fly to pieces, and you find yourself very human, very material, and your God hidden behind the distant clouds. When the test comes, you find you cannot prove your beliefs.”
Yet the man did not often indulge in self-condemnation, for somehow he knew his ideas were right. When he realized the character and specious nature of evil, and realized, too, that “by thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned,” he knew that the stirring up of evil by good, and the shaking of the ancient foundations of carnal belief within his mentality, might mean fiery trials, still awaiting him. And yet, the crown was for him who should overcome. Overcome what? The false opinions of mankind, the ignorant beliefs in matter and evil. For what, after all, is responsible for all 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 see God, who is Spirit? And how can I follow the Christ unless I think as he thought?” he said.
But it was in the classroom with Carmen that he always received his greatest stimulus.
“See, Padre dear,” she said one day, “if I erase a wrong figure and then set down the right one instead, I get the right answer. And it is just like that when we think. If we always put good thoughts in the place of the bad ones, why, everything comes out right, doesn’t it?”
Josè smiled at the apt comparison. “Of course,chiquita,” he replied. “Only in your algebra you know which are the right figures to put down. But how do you know which thoughts are right?”
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“I always know, Padre. I can’t make even the least mistake about the thoughts. Why, it is easier to mistake with figures than it is with thoughts.”
“How is that, little one?”
“Because, if you always think Godfirst, you can never think wrong. Now can you? And if you think of other things first you are almost sure 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 the right rule in algebra, the answer just comes of itself. Well, it is so with everything when we understand that God is the right rule––you call Him principle, don’t you?––well, when we know that He is the only rule for everything, then the answers to all our problems just come of themselves.”
Aye, thought Josè, the healing works of the great Master were only the “signs following,” the “answers” to the people’s problems, the sure evidence that Jesus understood the Christ-principle.
“And when you say that God is the right rule for everything, just what do you mean,chiquita?”
“That He is everywhere,” the girl replied.
“That He is infinite and omnipresent good, then?” the priest amplified.
“He is good––and everywhere,” the child repeated firmly.
“And the necessary corollary of that is, that there is no evil,” Josè added.
“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 is everywhere, 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; that any predicated opposite must be supposition. And evil is the supposition; whereas good is the fact. The latter is “plus,” and the former “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 of nothingness. The world has tried to make it positive, something. From the false sense of evil as a reality has come the equally false sense of man’s estrangement from God, through some fictitious “fall”––a curse, truly, upon the human intellect, but not of God’s infliction. For false belief always curses with a reign of discord, which endures until the belief becomes corrected by truth. From the beginning, the human race has141vainly sought to postulate an equal and opposite to everything in the realm of both the spiritual and material. It has been hypnotized, obsessed, blinded, by this false zeal. The resultant belief in “dualism” has rendered hate the equal and opposite of Love, evil the equal and opposite of Good, and discord the eternal opponent of Harmony. To cope with evil as a reality is to render it immortal in our consciousness. To know its unreality is to master it.
“Throughout life,” Josè mused, “every positive has its negative, every affirmation its denial. But the opposites never mingle. And, moreover, the positive always dispels the negative, thus proving the specious nature of the latter. Darkness flees before the light, and ignorance dissolves in the morning rays of knowledge. Both cannot be real. The positive alone bears the stamp of immortality. Carmen has but one fundamental rule:God is everywhere. This gives her a sense of immanent power, with which all things are possible.”
Thus with study and meditation the days flowed past, with scarcely a ripple to break their quiet monotony. Rosendo came, and went again. He brought back at the end of his first month’s labors on the newly discovered deposit some ninetypesosin gold. He had reached the bedrock, and the deposit was yielding its maximum; but the yield would continue for many months, he said. His exultation overleaped all bounds, and it was with difficulty that Josè could bring him to a consideration of the problems still confronting them.
“I think, Rosendo,” said the priest, “that we will send, say, thirtypesosthis month to Cartagena; the same next month; and then increase the amount slightly. This method is sure to have a beneficial effect 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 the Bishop, for that would excite suspicion. Masses, you know, are not paid for in gold dust and nuggets. And we have no money. Nor could we get the gold exchanged for bills here in Simití, even if we dared run the risk of our discovery becoming known.”
For the Alcalde was already nosing about in an effort to ascertain the source of the gold with which Rosendo had just cancelled his debt and purchased further supplies. Josè now saw that, under existing conditions, it would be utterly impossible for Rosendo to obtain titles to mineral properties through Don Mario. He spent hours seeking a solution of the involved problem. Then, just before Rosendo departed again for the mountains, Josè called him into the parish house.