ture was, without doubt, a
desperate risk. But it was for Carmen--and its expediency could not be
questioned.

Jose penned a letter to the Bishop of Cartagena that morning, and
sent it by Juan to Bodega Central to await the next down-river
steamer. He did not know that Juan carried another letter for the
Bishop, and addressed in the flowing hand of the Alcalde. Jose
briefly acknowledged the Bishop's communication, and replied that he
would labor unflaggingly to uplift his people and further their
spiritual development. As to the Bishop's instructions, he would
endeavor to make Simiti's contribution to the support of Holy
Church, both material and spiritual, fully commensurate with the
population. He did not touch on the other instructions, but closed
with fervent assurances of his intention to serve his little flock
with an undivided heart. Carmen received no lesson that day, and
her rapidly flowing questions anent the unusual activity in the
household were met with the single explanation that her padre
Rosendo had found it necessary to go up to the Tigui river, a
journey which some day she might perhaps take with him.

During the afternoon Jose wrote two more letters, one to his uncle,
briefly announcing his appointment to the parish of Simiti, and his
already lively interest in his new field; the other to his beloved
mother, in which he only hinted at the new-found hope which served as
his pillow at night. He did not mention Carmen, for fear that his
letter might be opened ere it left Cartagena. But in tenderest
expressions of affection, and regret that he had been the unwitting
cause of his mother's sorrow, he begged her to believe that his life
had received a stimulus which could not but result in great happiness
for them both, for he was convinced that he had at last found his
_metier_, even though among a lowly people and in a sequestered part
of the world. He hoped again to be reunited to her--possibly she might
some day meet him in Cartagena. And until then he would always hold
her in tenderest love and the brightest and purest thought.

He brushed aside the tears as he folded this letter; and, lest regret
and self-condemnation seize him again, hurried forth in search of
Carmen, whose radiance always dispelled his gloom as the rushing dawn
shatters the night.

She was not in Rosendo's house, and Dona Maria said she had seen the
child some time before going in the direction of the "shales." These
were broad