y
I adore her!"

Jose could not be angry. The faithful lad was deeply sincere. And the
girl would reach the marriageable age of that country in all too short
a time.

"But, Juan," he remonstrated, "you are too young! And Carmen--why, she
is but a child!"

"True, Padre. But I am seventeen--and I will wait for her. Only say
now that she shall be mine when the time comes. Padre, say it now!"

Jose was deeply touched by the boy's earnest pleading. He put his arm
affectionately about the strong young shoulders.

"Wait, Juan, and see what develops. She is very, very young. We must
all wait. And, meanwhile, do you serve her, faithfully, as you see
Rosendo and me doing."

The boy's face brightened with hope. "Padre," he exclaimed, "I am her
slave!"

Jose went back to his work with Carmen with his thought full of
mingled conjecture and resolve. He had thus far outlined nothing for
the girl's future. Nor had he the faintest idea what the years might
bring forth. But he knew that, in a way, he was aiding in the
preparation of the child for something different from the dull, animal
existence with which she was at present surrounded, and that her path
in life must eventually lead far, far away from the shabby, crumbling
town which now constituted her material world. His task he felt to be
tremendous in the responsibility which it laid upon him. What had he
ever known of the manner of rearing children! He had previously given
the question of child-education but scant consideration, although he
had always held certain radical ideas regarding it; and some of these
he was putting to the test. But had his present work been forecast
while he lay sunken in despair on the river steamer, he would have
repudiated the prediction as a figment of the imagination. Yet the
gleam which flashed through his paralyzed brain that memorable day in
the old church, when Rosendo opened his full heart to him, had roused
him suddenly from his long and despondent lethargy, and worked a quick
and marvelous renovation in his wasted life. Following the lead of
this unusual child, he was now, though with many vicissitudes, slowly
passing out of his prison of egoism, and into the full, clear sunlight
of a world which he knew to be far less material than spiritual.

With the awakening had come the almost frenzied desire to realize in
Carmen what he had failed to develop within himself; a vague hope that
she might fill the void which a lifetime of longing