would."

Jose sank back in his chair limp and cold. His frenzied brain held but
one thought: he had delayed until too late--and the end was at hand!

"Padre," said Rosendo earnestly, "tell me about that book. You did
write 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 told
you not to--that her heart was her church, and it must not be
disturbed. But--is it true, as the people say, that you really belong
to the party that would destroy the Church?"

Then Jose 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 the
wondering eyes of the old man down to the day when the culmination of
carnal ambition, false thought, perverted concepts of filial devotion
and sacredness of oath, of family honor and pride of race, had washed
him up against the dreary shores of Simiti. With no thought of
concealment, he exposed his ambition in regard to Carmen--even the
love for her that he knew must die of inanition--and ended by throwing
himself without reserve upon Rosendo's judgment. When the tense
recital was ended, Rosendo leaned over and clasped the priest's
trembling hand.

"I understand, Padre," he said gently. "I am dull of wit, I know. And
you have often laughed at my superstitions and old family beliefs,
whether religious or otherwise. They are strange--I admit that. And I
shall die in the Church, and take my chances on the future, for I have
tried to live a good life. But--with a man like you--I understand. And
now, 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 are
Carmen's, is it not so? Thanks be to the good Virgin," he muttered,
as he walked slowly away, "that Lazaro got those titles from Don Mario
to-day!"

* * * * *

Nightfall brought an unexpected visitor in the person of Don Jorge,
who had returned from the remoter parts of the Guamoco region.

"_Bien_, and what news?" he called cheerily, as he strode into the
parish house, where Rosendo and Jose were in earnest conversation.

Jose embraced him as a brother, while a great sense of relief stole
over him. Then he quickly made known to him the situation.

Don Jorge whistled softly. He ceased his task of scraping the caked
mud from his bare