m the Cathedral tower. Then, as if shaken into
remembrance of the message which the boy had brought him at daybreak,
the man hurriedly took his black felt hat from the table, and without
further preparation left the room.

The stone pavements and narrow brick walks, above which the intense
heat hung in tremulous waves, were almost deserted as he hastened
toward the Cathedral. The business of the morning was finished; trade
was suspended until the sun, now dropping its fiery shafts straight as
plummets, should have sunk behind La Popa. As he turned into the Calle
Lozano an elderly woman, descending the winding brick stairway visible
through the open door of one of the numerous old colonial houses in
the 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 weeping
woman, 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 the
blessed child. And Padre Lorenzo came--but he would not shrive her
little 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 give
one 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 shall
acknowledge his child and care for it! _Dios--!_ But wait, Marcelena.
I can do nothing now. But I will return." Leaving the woman sobbing
prayers 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 a
chair from a pile in a corner and sat down for a moment near one of
the little side chapels, to recover from the stifling heat without and
prepare his thought for the impending interview with the Bishop. A dim
twilight enveloped the interior of the building, affording a grateful
relief from the blinding glare of the streets. It brought him a
transient sense of peace--the peace which his wearied soul had n