ve demon-worship!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was but momentary. Recovering himself, he laid a large hand on the
priest's shoulder, and, his face assuming its wonted smile, said in
his usual low tone, "_Amigo_, it seems that you have a penchant for
spreading gossip. Think you I am ignorant of the fact that because of
it Rome spewed you out for a meddlesome pest? Do you deceive yourself
that Cartagena will open her ears to your garbled reports? The hag,
Marcelena, lies! She has long hoped to gain some advantage from me, I
have told you-- But go n