ld say otherwise, and would condemn us as
fools. Thank God we are out of the world here in Simiti!"

He choked back the inrush of memories and brushed away a tear.

"Rosendo," he concluded, "be advised. If Carmen told you not to think
of sickness while in Guamoco, then follow her instructions. It is not
the child, but a mighty Power that is speaking through her. Of that I
have long been thoroughly convinced. And I am as thoroughly convinced
that that same Power has appointed you and me her protectors and her
followers. You and I have a mighty compact--"

"_Hombre!_" interrupted Rosendo, clasping the priest's hand, "my life
is hers--you know it--she has only to speak, and I obey! Is it not
so?"

"Assuredly, Rosendo," returned Jose. "And now a final word. Let us
keep solely to ourselves what we have learned of her. Our plans are
well formulated. Let us adhere to them in strict silence. I know not
whither we are being led. But we are in the hands of that 'something'
that speaks and works through her--and we are satisfied. Are we not?"

They clasped hands again. The next morning Rosendo set his face once
more toward the emerald hills of Guamoco.

As the days passed, Jose became more silent and thoughtful. But it was
a silence bred of wonder and reverence, as he dwelt upon the things
that had been revealed to him. Who and what was this unusual child, so
human, and yet so strangely removed from the world's plane of thought?
A child who understood the language of the birds, and heard the grass
grow--a child whom Torquemada would have burnt as a witch, and yet
with whom he could not doubt the Christ dwelt.

Jose often studied her features while she bent over her work. He spent
hours, too, poring over the little locket which had been found among
her mother's few effects. The portrait of the man was dim and soiled.
Jose wondered if the poor woman's kisses and tears had blurred it. The
people of Badillo said she had died with it pressed to her lips. But
its condition rendered futile all speculation in regard to its
original. That of the mother, however, was still fresh and clear. Jose
conjectured that she must have been either wholly Spanish, or one of
the more refined and cultured women of Colombia. And she had
doubtless been very young and beautiful when the portrait was made.
With what dark tragedy was that little locket associated? Would it
ever yield its secret?

But Carmen's brown curls and light skin--whence came t