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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 the captain.
“Señor,” she said in a voice strained to a whisper, “I am the daughter of Rosendo Ariza.”
A half-suppressed exclamation burst from the lips of Rosendo. A desperate, suffocating joy surged over the riven soul of the priest. Don Jorge’s mouth opened, but no sound came forth. This precipitatedénoûementheld them rigid with astonishment.
A heavy silence descended upon them all. In the eyes of Josè Ana’s tense figure, standing grim and rigid before the captain, took on a dignity that was majestic, a worth that transcended all human computation. A Magdalen, yes, standing with her sin-conceived child clasped in her trembling arms. But this act––God above! this sacrificial act broke the alabaster box and spread the precious nard over the feet of the pitying Christ.
Morales turned questioningly to Josè. “Is this true, Padre?” he asked.
“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 meet the vacant gaze of the babe.
The captain hesitated a moment longer. Then, with an upward glance at the sun, he gave a sharp command to his men. Placing the woman between them, the two soldiers faced about and moved quickly away. With a low bow 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 the old church and disappeared into the matted trail that led from it to the 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 his hands. “Anita––!”
Then he rose hastily, and made as if to pursue the soldiers. Josè and Don Jorge restrained him.
“Hombre!” cried Don Jorge, “but it is the hand of Providence! It is better 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 until she reaches Cartagena!Bien, we can not waste time in mourning now! Courage, man! Think––think hard!”
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Rosendo strove to unravel his tangled wits. Josè went to him and clasped his big hand.
“Rosendo––friend––would you have it different? I––I alone am to blame that they took Anita! But––it was to save––to save––Ah, God! if I did wrong, take the American’s revolver and shoot me!” He tore open his cassock and stood rigid before the dazed man. Anguish and soul-torture had warped his features.
“Caramba! Enough of such talk!” cried Don Jorge impatiently. “We shall find plenty of others more deserving of shooting, I think! The girl––where is she?”
Reed turned back into the parish house, and emerged a moment later with Carmen and Doña Maria, who knew not as yet of Ana’s departure. “I hid them in your bedroom, Padre,” Reed explained.
Josè threw him a look of gratitude. “Doña Maria,” he cried, “do you take Carmen into your house and await our decision! And you, men, go into my study! It is as Don Jorge says, we must act quickly! Leave your flag hanging, Mr. Reed! It may serve to protect us further against 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 related in detail Don Mario’s last confession. When he had closed, Reed made reply.
“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 keep her another hour in Simití is to sacrifice her. Get her away––and at once! If not, the people will drive you out. I talked with Fernando last night. With the soldiers gone, the people will rise up against you all.”
“But, friend, where shall we go?” cried Josè in desperation. “There is no 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 impossible for him to escape down the river with the girl, even if he had funds to carry her away from Colombia, which he has not. At any port he would be seized. To take the trail would only postpone for a short time their certain capture. And then––well, we will not predict! To flee into the jungle––or to hide among thepeonesalong the trails––that might be done––yes.”
“What’s the gibberish about now, pal?” put in Harris, whose knowledge of the Spanish tongue wasnil.
Reed explained to him at some length.
“Well, that’s easy,” returned Harris. “Tell ’em you’ll take the girl out yourself. She’s white enough to pass as your daughter, you know.”
333
Rosendo, stunned by the sudden departure of Ana, had sat in a state of stupefaction during this conversation. But now he roused up and turned to Reed. “What says he, señor?” he inquired thickly.
The latter translated his friend’s suggestion, laughing as he commented 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. A strange light had come into his eyes. For a moment he stood looking fixedly at Reed. Finally he began to speak.
“Señores,” he said, rolling his syllables sonorously, “the time has come at last! For years I have waited, waited, knowing that some day the great gift which the good God put into my hands for the little Carmen would be needed. Señores, my parents were slaves. The cruel Spaniards drove them to and from their heavy labors with the lash; and when the great war ended, they sank exhausted into their graves. My parents––I have not told you this, Padre––were the slaves of Don Ignacio de Rincón!”
An exclamation burst from the astonished priest’s lips. What, then, had this man been concealing all these years? Little wonder that he had hesitated when he learned that a Rincón had come to the parish of Simití!
The old man quickly resumed. As he continued, his recital became dramatic. 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 wound itself about my poor father’s shrinking body, and hurled him shrieking to the ground––and why? Because his blistered hands could not hold thebateawith which he washed gold for your grandfather, Padre, your grandfather!”
Josè’s head sank upon his breast. A groan escaped him, and tears trickled slowly down his sunken cheeks.
“I bear you no malice, Padre,” continued Rosendo. “It was hard those first days to accept you here. But when, during your fever, I learned from your own lips what you had suffered, I knew that you needed 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 increased day by day, I could never bring myself to tell you my great secret––the secret that now I reveal for the sake of the little Carmen. Padre––señores––I––I am the owner of the great mine, La Libertad!”
Had the heavens collapsed the astonishment of Don Jorge and the priest could not have been greater. The coming of the334soldiers, the terrific strain of the past few days, culminating in the loss of Ana––all was for 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 revelation would produce, and then went on rapidly:
“Padre, the mine belonged to your grandfather. It produced untold wealth. The gold taken from it was brought down the Guamocó trail to Simití, and from here shipped to Cartagena, where he lived in great elegance. I make no doubt the gold which you and the little Carmen discovered in the old church that day came from this same wonderful mine. But the ore was quartz, andarrastraswere required to grind it, and much skill was needed, too. He had men from old Spain, deeply versed in such knowledge. Ah, the tales my poor father told of that mine!
“Bien, the war broke out. The Guamocó region became depopulated, and sank back into the jungle. The location of the mine had been recorded in Cartagena; but, as you know, when Don Ignacio fled from this country he destroyed the record. He did the same with the records in Simití, on that last flying trip here, when he hid the gold in the altar of the old church. And then the jungle grew up around the mine during those thirteen long years of warfare––the people who knew of it died off––and the mine was lost, utterly lost!”
He stopped for breath. The little group sat enthralled before him. All but Harris, who was vainly beseeching Reed to translate to him the dramatic story.
“Padre,” continued Rosendo at length, “from what my father had told me I had a vague idea of the location of that mine. And many a weary day I spent hunting for it! Then––then I found it! Ah,Caramba! I wept aloud for joy! It was while I was on the Tiguí, washing gold. I was working near what we used to callPozo Cayman, opposite La Colorado, where the Frenchmen died. I camped on the lonely bank there, with only the birds and the wondering animals to keep me company. One dark night, 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 I lay––that she whispered to me and told me to rise quickly and drive away the devil.
“I awoke suddenly. It was still dark, but a pair of fiery eyes were gleaming at me from the bush. I seized mymacheteand started after them. It was a jaguar, Padre, and he fled up the hill from me. Why I followed, 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 a good woodsman, señores, and not easily lost. But335this time my poor head went badly astray. I started to cut through the bush. At last I came to the edge of a steep ravine. I clambered down the sides into the gully below. I thought it looked like an old trail, and I followed it. So narrow was it at times that the walls almost touched. But I went 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, crossing stream after stream, scaring snakes from my path, frightening the birds above, who doubtless have never seen men in that region, all the time thinking I was going toward the Tiguí, until at last the old sunken trail led me up a tremendous hill. At the top, buried in a dense matting of brush, I fell over a circle of stones. They were the remains of an ancientarrastra. Further on I found another; and still another. Then, near them, the stone foundations of houses, long since gone to decay. From these the trail took me into a gully, where but little water flowed. It was lined with quartz bowlders. I struck off a piece from one of the largest. It showed specks of gold! My eyes danced! I forgot that I was lost! I went on up the stream, striking off piece after piece from the great rocks. Every one showed specks of free gold.Caramba! I reached the top of the hill.Hombre! how can I tell it! Tunnel after tunnel yawned at me from the hillside. Some of these were still open, where they had been driven through the hard rock. Others had caved. I had my wallet, in which I always carry matches and a bit of candle. I entered one of the open tunnels.Dios arriba! far within I crossed a quartz vein––I scraped it with mymachete.Caramba! it could not have been less than six feet in width––and all speckled with gold! Above it, far into the blackness, where bats were scurrying madly, the ore had been taken out long, long ago. In the darkness below I stumbled over old, rusted tools. Every one bore the inscription, ‘I de R.’ Your grandfather, Padre, put his stamp on everything belonging to him. Then, as I sat trying to place myself, my father’s oft-told story of the location of the mine flashed into 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 La Libertad!”
Reed’s eager ears had drunk in every word of the old man’s dramatic story. His practical mind had revolved its possibilities. When Rosendo paused again, he quickly asked:
“The title, señor?”
Rosendo drew forth a paper from his bosom. It bore the government stamp. He handed it to Reed.
“You will recall, Padre,” he said, addressing the dully wondering336Josè, “that I once asked you to give me a name for a mine––a rare name? 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 no one of my discovery of years before. I had never had money enough to get the title to it. Besides, I was afraid. But when it seemed that I might soon have use for it I sold myfincafor funds and had Lázaro apply 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 for me. 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 to Rosendo. “Can we not talk business, señor?” he said, speaking with some agitation. “I am so situated that I can float an American company to operate this mine, and allow you a large percentage of the returns. Great heavens!” he exclaimed, unable longer to contain himself, “it is your fortune!”
“Señor,” replied Rosendo, slowly shaking his head, “I want no share in any of your American companies. But––your friend––he has suggested just what has been running through my mind ever since you came to Simití.”
Josè’s heart suddenly stopped. The wild, terrifying idea tore through his fraught brain. He turned quickly to Reed and addressed him in English. “No––no––it is impossible! The old man wanders! You can not take the girl––!”
“Certainly not!” ejaculated Reed with some warmth. “Such a thing is quite out of the question!”
“Stuff!” exclaimed Harris. “Now look here, Mr. Priest, Reed’s wife is in Cartagena, waiting for him. Came down from New York that far for the trip. Kind of sickly, you know. What’s to prevent her from taking the girl to the States and placing her in a boarding school there until such time as you can either follow, or this stew down here has settled 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 ravishing little beauty here to fall into the hands of the cannibals who are trailing her? Lord Harry! if it weren’t for the looks of the thing I’d take her myself. But you’ve got a337wife, so it’d be easy.” He leaned over to Reed and concluded in a whisper, “The old man’s going to make a proposition––listen!”
“But,” remonstrated the latter, “the expense of keeping her in New York indefinitely! For, unless I mistake much, none of these people will ever see the States after she leaves. And then I have an adopted daughter on my hands! And, heaven knows! now that my ambitious wife is determined to break into New York society with her adorable sister, I have no money to waste on adopted children!”
Rosendo, who had been studying the Americans attentively during their conversation, now laid a hand on Reed’s. “Señor,” he said in a quiet tone, “if you will take the little Carmen with you, and keep her safe from harm until Padre Josè can come to you, or she can be returned to us 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 not know this man! Ah, señor,” turning to Reed, “I beg you will forgive––but Rosendo is mad to suggest such a thing! We cannot permit it––we––I––oh, God above!” He sank again into his chair and covered his face with his hands.
Don Jorge gave vent to a long, low whistle. Rosendo, his voice husky and his lips trembling, went on:
“I know, Padre––I know. But it must be done! I will give the mine to the 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 as his own. As for me, I––Bien, I shall want nothing when Carmen goes––nothing.”
“For heaven’s sake!” burst in Harris, seizing Reed’s arm. “If you don’t tell me what all this is about now I shall shoot––and not straight up, either!”
“Señores,” said Reed in a controlled voice, “let me talk this matter over with my friend here. I will come to you in an hour.”
Rosendo and Don Jorge bowed and silently withdrew from the parish house. The former went at once to apprise the wondering Doña Maria of the events which had crowded the morning’s early hours and to answer her apprehensive questionings regarding Ana. Carmen was to know only that Ana––but what could he tell her? That the woman had sacrificed herself for the girl? No; but that they had seized this opportunity to send her, under the protection of Captain Morales, to the Sisters of the Convent of Our Lady. The old man knew that the girl would see only God’s hand in the event.
Josè as in a dream sought Carmen. It seemed to him that338once his arms closed about her no power under the skies could tear them asunder. He found her sitting in the doorway at the rear of Rosendo’s house, looking dreamily out over the placid lake. Cucumbra, now old and feeble, slept at her feet. As the man approached he heard her murmur repeatedly, “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 his drawn face, “we will start out. But I think we had better rest when we reach 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 even after all that has seemed to happen to us do I believe it true. No, I do not believe it real. Evil is not power. It does not exist, excepting in the human mind. And that, as you yourself know, can not be real, for it is all that God is not.”
They were seated beneath the slowly witheringalgarrobatree out on the burning shales. Josè still held the girl’s hand tightly in his. Again he was struggling with self, struggling to pass the borderline from, self-consciousness to God-consciousness; striving, under the spiritual influence of this girl, to break the mesmeric hold of his own mortal beliefs, and swing freely out into his true orbit about the central Sun, infinite Mind.
The young girl, burgeoning into a marvelous womanhood, sat before him like an embodied spirit. Her beauty of soul shone out in gorgeous luxuriance, and seemed to him to envelop her in a sheen of radiance. The brilliant sunshine glanced sparkling from her glossy hair into a nimbus of light about her head. Her rich complexion was but faintly suggestive to him of a Latin origin. Her oval face and regular features might have indicated any of the ruddier branches of the so-called Aryan stock. But his thought was not dwelling on these things now. It was brooding over the events of the past few weeks, and their probable consequences. And this he had just voiced to her.
“Padre dear,” she had said, when his tremulous voice339ceased, “how much longer will you believe that two and two are seven? And how much longer will you try to make me believe it? Oh, Padre, at first you did seem 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 old thoughts and opened the door and let them all in again. And so things couldn’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 guess you didn’t get them all out. If you had cleaned house and got your mind 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 be receptive. But you go right on getting ready for evil. If you loved God––reallylovedHim––why, you would not be worried and anxious to-day, and you would not be believing still that two and two are seven. You told me, oh, so long ago! that this human life was just asenseof life, a series of states of consciousness, and that consciousness was only mental activity, the activity of thought. Well, I remembered that, and put it into practice––but you didn’t. A true consciousness is the activity of true thought, you said. A false consciousness is the activity of false thought. True thought comes from 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. A supposition is never really created, because it is never real––never truth. True thought becomes externalized to us in good, in harmony, in happiness. False thought becomes externalized to us in unhappiness, sickness, loss, in wrong-doing, and in death. It is unreal, and yet awfully real to those who believe it to be real. Why don’t you act your knowledge, as you at first said you were going to do? I have all along tried to do this. Whenever thoughts come to me I always look carefully 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 it has been hard to tell just which were true and which false. And sometimes I got caught, and had to pay the penalty. But every day I do better; and the time will come at last when I shall be able to tell at once which thoughts are true and which untrue. When that time comes, nothing but good thoughts will enter, and nothing but good will be externalized to me in consciousness. I shall be in heaven––all the heaven 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, so simple!”
The man sat humbly before her like a rebuked child. He knew that she spoke truth. Indeed, these were the very things that he had taught her himself. Why, then, had he failed to340demonstrate them? Only because he had attempted to mix error with truth––had clung to the reality and immanence of evil, even while striving to believe good omnipotent and infinite. He had worked out these theories, and they had appeared beautiful to him. But, while Carmen had eagerly grasped and assimilated them, even to the consistent shaping of her daily life to accord with them, he had gone on putting the stamp of genuineness and reality upon every sort of thought and upon every human event as it had been enacted in his conscious experience. His difficulty was that, having proclaimed the allness of spirit, God, he had proceeded to bow the knee to evil. Carmen had seemed to know that the mortal, material concepts of humanity would dissolve in the light of truth. He, on the other hand, had clung to them, even though they seared the mind that held them, and became externalized in utter wretchedness.
“When you let God’s thoughts in, Padre, and drive out their opposites, then sickness and unhappiness will disappear, just as the mist disappears over the lake when the sun rises and the light goes 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 of Padre Diego, the coming of the soldiers, the death of Lázaro and Don Mario, and lots of unhappiness about yourself and me. Those men are not dead––except to your thought. You ought to know that all these things are the unreal thoughts externalized in your consciousness. And, knowing them for what they really are, the opposites of God’s thoughts, you ought to know that they can have no more power over you than anything else that you know to be supposition. We can suppose that two and two are seven, but we can’t make it true. The supposition does not have any effect upon us. We know that it isn’t so. But as regards just thought––and you yourself said that everything reduces to thought––why, people seem to think it is different. But it isn’t. Don’t you understand what the good man Jesus meant when he told the Pharisees to first cleanse the cup and platter within, that the outside might also be clean? Why, that was a clear case of externalization, if there ever was one! Cleanse your thought, and everything outside of you will then become clean, for your clean thought will become externalized. You once said that you believed in the theory that ‘like attracts like.’ I do, too. I believe that good thoughts attract good ones, and evil thoughts attract thoughts like themselves. I have proved it. And you ought to know that your life shows it, too. You hold fear-thoughts and worry-thoughts, and then, just as341soon as these become externalized to you as misfortune and unhappiness, you say that evil is real and powerful, and that God permits it to exist. Yes, God does permit all the existence there is to a supposition––which is none. You pity yourself and all the world for being unhappy, when all you need is to do as Jesus told you, and know God to be infinite Mind, and evil to be only the suppositional opposite, without reality, without life, without power––unless you give it these things in your own consciousness. You don’t have to take thought for your life. You don’t have to be covetous, or envious, or fearful, or anxious. You couldn’t do anything if you were. These things don’t help you. Jesus said that of himself he could do nothing. But––as soon as he recognized God as the infinite principle of all, and acted that knowledge––why, then he 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? Iknowyou 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 with these Americans!”
“Yes, so you have said. And you have said that you have always feared you would lose me. Is that fear being externalized now? I have not feared that I would lose you. But, Padre dear––”
The ghastly look on the man’s face threw wide the flood-gates of her sympathy. “Padre––all things work together for good, you know. Good isalwaysworking. It never stops. Listen––” She clung more closely to him.
“Padre, it may be best, after all. You do not want me to stay always in Simití. And if I go, you will go with me, or soon follow. Oh, Padre dear, you have told me that up in that great country above us the people do not know God as you and I are learning to know Him. Padre––I want to go and tell them about Him! I’ve wanted to for a long, long time.”
The girl’s eyes shone with a holy light. Her wistful face glowed with a love divine.
“Padre dear, you have so often said that I had a message for the world. Do not the people up north need that message? Would you keep me here then? The people of Simití are too dull to hear the message now. But up there––Oh, Padre, it may be right that I should go! And, if it is right, nothing can prevent it, for the rightwillbe externalized! Rightwillprevail!”
True, there was the girl’s future. Such a spirit as hers could not long be confined within the narrow verges of Simití.342He must not oppose his egoism to her interests. And, besides, he might follow soon. Perhaps go with her! Who knew? it might be the opening of the way to the consummation of that heart-longing for––
Ah, the desperate joy that surged through his yearning soul at the thought! The girl was fifteen. A year, two, three, and he would still be a young man! She loved him––never had man had such proofs as he of an 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 be right. Yes––we will both go with the Americans. Once out of this environment and free from ecclesiastical chains, I shall do better.”
The girl looked up at him with brimming eyes. “Padre dear,” she whispered, “I want to go––away from Simití. Juan––he asks me almost every day to marry him. And he becomes angry when I refuse. Even in the church, when Don Mario was trying to get us, Juan said he would save me if I would promise to marry him. He said he would go to Cartagena 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 had become. 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 and threw both arms about his neck. “I want to see you work out your problem. I will help you. You can go with me––and I can always live with you––and some day––some day––” She buried her face in his shoulder. The artless girl had never seemed to think it unmaidenly to declare her love for him, to show him unmistakably that she hoped to become his wife.
The man’s heart gave a mighty leap. The beautiful child in his arms was human! Young in years, and yet a woman by the conventions of these tropic lands. He bent his head and kissed her. Why, she had long insisted that she would wait for him! And why should he now oppose the externalization of that sweet thought?
“Ah,chiquita,” he murmured, “I will indeed go with you now! I will send my resignation to the Bishop at once. No, I will wait and send it from the States. I will renounce my oath, abjure my promise––”
The girl sat suddenly upright and looked earnestly into his343eyes. “What do you mean, Padre?” she queried dubiously. “What did you promise?”
“Ah, I have never told you. But––I promised my mother, dearest one, that I would always remain a priest––unless, indeed, the Church herself 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,” she resumed, “honesty––it is the very first thing that God requires of us. We have to be––wemustbe honest, for He is Truth. He cannot see or recognize error, you know. And so He cannot see you and help you if you are dishonest.”
“I know, child. And I tried to be honest, even when circumstances and my own poor resistive force combined to direct me into the priesthood. But––since that day I have lived a life of hypocrisy, not knowing how to 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 the Church?”
“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. “Padre dear,” she finally said, “then you have not yet worked out your problem––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 you had, no one would be hurt, and there could not be any disgrace, or unhappiness––could there?”
“But,chiquita,” he cried in despair, “nothing but excommunication can release me! And I long ago ceased to look for that. You do not understand––you are young! What can I do?” His tortured soul pleaded in 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.
344
“Carmen!” he cried, straining her in his arms. “If you go with the Americans, 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 what it may mean to us both!”
The girl relapsed into silence. Josè began to feel that they were drifting hopelessly, abysmally apart. Desperation seized him.
“Carmen!” he cried miserably. “I have been cheated and thwarted all my wretched life! I can endure it no longer! I can not, would not, hold you here, if the way opens for you to go! But––I can not remain here without 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 progress always comes first. You are trying to ‘acquire that mind which was in Christ.’ 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 you can no longer be a priest––if you are not one, and never have been one––you must be honest with the Church and with yourself. You must see and reflect only Truth. Why do you not write to the Bishop and tell him all about it? You say you have been protecting me. But leave me to God. You must––Padre, youmust––be honest! Write to your mother––write to the Bishop. Tell them both how you feel. Then leave it all with God. Do not run away. Throw yourself upon Him. But––oh, Padre dear, you must trust Him, and you must––youmust––know that He is good, that He is infinite, and that there is no evil! Otherwise, the good can not be externalized. If you did that, your problem would be quickly solved.”
She rose and took his hand. “Padre dear,” she continued, “God is life––there is no death. God is eternal––there is no age. God is all good––there is no poverty, no lack, no loss. God is infinite, and He is mind––there is no inability to see the right and to do it. God is my mind, my spirit, my soul, my all. I have nothing to fear. Human mental concepts are not real. You, yourself, say so. I am not afraid of 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 how things will work out; but you can know that they can only work out in the right way. Youmustwork as God directs.345Only by so doing can you solve your problem. I try always to work that way. And I have always worked for you that way. I have always thought the time would come when you and I would live and work together––always. But I have not insisted on it. I have not said that ithadto be. If it works out 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 God is everywhere, and He is love, and He has given me all happiness. And now we must leave everything to Him, while we work, work, work to see Him only everywhere.”
She would talk no more. Suffering himself to be led by her, they crossed the shales to the dust-laden road and made their way silently through the burning heat into the village.
At the door of the parish house stood Rosendo. His face was grave, but his manner calm. “Padre,” he announced, “it is arranged.”
Josè’s knees shook under him as he followed the old man into the house. Reed, Harris, and Don Jorge sat about the table, on which were strewn papers covered with figures and sketches. The priest sat down dumbly and drew Carmen to him. Harris fell to devouring the girl with his bulging eyes. Reed at once plunged into the topic under consideration.
“I have been saying,” he began, addressing the priest, “that I can accept the proposal made by Don Rosendo, but with some amendments. Mr. Harris and I are under contract with the Molino Company to report upon their properties along the Boque river. I am informed by Don Rosendo that he is acquainted with these alleged mines, and knows them to be worthless. Be that as it may, I am obliged to examine them. But I will agree 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 to form a company to take over this mine, returning to the girl a fifty-one per cent interest in the stock, one half of which she agrees in writing to deliver to me immediately upon its issuance. Being under contract, I can not accept it now. The balance of the stock must be sold for development purposes. I further agree to place the girl in a boarding school of the first quality in the States, and to bear all expenses of her maintenance until such time as she is either self-supporting, or one or several of you may come to her, or effect her return to Colombia. Now, according to Ariza’s sketches, we may proceed 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 country346from the sources of the Boque, following what is known as Rosario creek, down to the river Tiguí, striking the latter somewhere near the ancient point known as La Colorado.”
“But, señor,” interposed Rosendo, “remember that the headwaters of the Boque are practically unknown to-day. Many years ago, when I was a small lad, some liberated slaves worked along Rosario creek, which was then one day’s journey on foot with packs from La Colorado. But that old trail has long since disappeared. Probably no one has been over it since.”
“Very well,” returned the practical Reed, “then we shall have to make our 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 the Nechí river?”
“Yes, to the mouth of the Amacerí. Llano was something of a town long ago. But river steamers that go up the Nechí as far as Zaragoza once a month, or less frequently, still touch there, I am told. And so you can get down the Cauca to Maganguey, where you can change to a Magdalena river boat for Calamar. Then by rail to Cartagena. The trail to Llano can not be more than fifty miles in length, and fairly open.”
Harris, who had been studying the sketches, whistled softly. “Lord Harry!” he muttered, “nearly two hundred miles, and all by foot, over unspeakable jungle trails!”
Reed paid no attention to him. “Very well, then,” he continued, “we had best set out as soon as possible. To you, friend Rosendo, I leave all arrangements regarding supplies andcargadores. I will furnish funds for the entire expedition, expecting to be reimbursed by La Libertad.”
Carmen listened, with dilated eyes. As for Josè, his head swam. Starting hurriedly after Rosendo, who rose immediately to inaugurate preparations, he drew him into the latter’s house. “Hombre!” he cried, his whole frame tremulous with agitation, “do you know what you are doing? Do you––”
“Na, Padre,” replied Rosendo gently, as he held up a restraining hand, “it is best. I want theAmericanosto take Carmen. She is not safe another day here. The soldiers left but yesterday. They may return any hour. At any moment an order might come for your arrest or mine. 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 in exhaustion and mopped his damp brow. “I weary of life, Padre. I would be 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 we have learned, this country will soon be plunged again into war. I do not wish to live through another revolution. I have seen many. I seem to have fought347all my life. And for what? What is La Libertad to me? Nothing––less than nothing. I have not the funds to work it. I doubt if I could even hold it, were it known here that I had the title to such a famous mine. But theAmericanocan 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 weather the oncoming revolution, then you may be able to send for her.Quien sabe?”
Josè controlled himself. “Rosendo,” he said, “I will go with her.”
The old man looked at him quizzically. “Do you mean, Padre, that you will leave the Church?”
Josè kept silent for some time. Then he spoke bitterly.
“Can I remain longer in Simití, where the people have become divided––where they look upon me askance, as the cause of the trouble that has befallen them? Is not my usefulness here ended? War is at our door. 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 disappearance of Diego has not been explained. The trick which Anita played upon Morales to save Carmen must bring down increased wrath upon our heads, especially yours and mine. No, Rosendo, you and I must go, and go at once!”
“And Anita––?”
“We will pick her up in Cartagena. Don Jorge will accompany us. I have certain information to give him that will enlist his services––information which, I think, will serve to introduce him to His Grace, and somewhat abruptly. But, come, Rosendo, do you and Doña Maria prepare for flight!”
“Maria and I? The States! Na, Padre, it is impossible! I will go with theAmericanosup the Boque and to La Libertad. Then I will return to Simití––or to thehaciendaof Don Nicolás, if Maria wishes to remain there while I am in the hills. But––do you go, Padre––go and look 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 all for that mine!”
“I? No, Padre,” said the old man firmly, but in a voice heavy with sadness. “Maria and I remain in Simití. My work is done when I have seen the girl safely out of this unhappy country. I could not live in the 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 up north! I am going to take them348my message! And I am going to school there! Oh, padre, isn’t it beautiful!”
“Ah,chiquita,” said Rosendo cheerily, straining her to him, “I guess we have decided to send you on ahead––a little ahead of us. Your old padre has some business he must attend to here before he leaves.” His eyes grew moist. Josè knew what his effort at cheerfulness was costing him.
“But, padre Rosendo, you will come––later? You promise? You must!” She looked into his eyes, pleading wistfully.
“Yes, little one, yes––of course. For where you are, there your old padre will always be––always––always!”
“And Padre Josè?” panted the girl under Rosendo’s tight grasp as she turned her head toward the priest.
“He goes with us,” assured Rosendo––“I think––at least as far as the coast. He will see Anita––and––” His voice broke, and he turned abruptly 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 determination he drew the battered haircloth trunk from beneath his bed and began to throw his few effects into it.
But he had scarce begun when Juan, now bearing the proud title of official courier between Simití and Bodega Central, entered with a letter. Josè recognized the writing, and tore it open at once. It was from his mother.
“My beloved son, at last, after these many years of most rigid economy, even of privation, I have saved enough from my meager income, together with what little you have been able to send me from time to time, and a recent generous contribution from your dear uncle, to enable me to visit you. I shall sail for Colombia just as soon as you send me detailed instructions regarding the journey. And, oh, my son, to see you offering the Mass in your own church, and to realize that your long delayed preferment is even at hand, for so your good uncle informs me daily, will again warm the blood in a heart long chilled by poignant suffering. Till we meet, the Blessed Virgin shield you, my beloved 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.