nd yours are in no danger, my son."

"In no danger!" repeated the Governor, his face becoming purple and his
voice choked; "no danger, when the foul carcass lies unburied, tainting
the very air with death! Throw it over in the sea--nay, set fire to the
miserable hut in which it lies, and let all be consumed together!"

"Who is it that is dead?" asked Dona Orosia. She had risen, and stood
with one hand holding back her skirts, her full, red upper lip slightly
drawn, and her delicate nostrils dilated, as though the very mention of
the loathed disease filled her with disgust.

"A wretched half-breed boy, some thieving member of the padre's flock,"
exclaimed the Governor impatiently. "Set fire to the hut, I say!"

But Dona Orosia interrupted once again. "Padre, what is it that you
desire?"

The sombre eyes were turned on her for the first time. "The boy was a
Christian, my daughter, and I would give him Christian burial."

"Surely," said Dona Orosia. "What is to prevent?"

"Would you spread the infection through the town?" exclaimed the
Governor, white with fear.

"Nay," said the friar, "I ask but a permit to take the body without the
gates. None but I and a few of my followers need be exposed to danger.
Let a bell be rung before us, to warn all in the streets to stand away;
and we will carry a vessel of strong incense before the bier. Those who
go out with me, I pledge you my word, shall not return for some days
till they are free of all taint themselves."

"My plan is better,--to burn hut, corpse, and all," replied the
Governor. But Padre Felipe turned on him fiercely.

"How shall I keep my hold upon my people, and they retain their faith in
consecrated things, if you treat a Christian's body as you would the
carcass of a dog?"

"As you will," the Governor exclaimed; and, throwing himself into a
chair, he called for pen and paper. "Here," he added presently, "deliver
this to Don Pedro de Melinza, and bid him warn the sentries at the gate.
Say, furthermore, that if any one in the town comes within twenty paces
of the bier, out of the gate he shall go also."

The friar received the permit silently, lifted his hand in benediction,
and left the apartment.

As my glance returned from the doorway it met that of Dona Orosia, and
in hers there was a passing flash of triumph. Soon after, she rose, and
together we withdrew. I felt her hand upon my arm tighten convulsively;
but I walked on with the same sense of unrea