bed and took her hand.

"Maria," he said with great tenderness, and tears gushed from his eyes,
"Maria, my child, you must not die!"

Maria Clara looked at him with some astonishment. No one of those who
knew the Franciscan would have believed him capable of such display
of feeling.

He could not say another word, but moved aside the draperies and went
out among the plants of Maria's balcony, crying like a child.

"How he loves his god-daughter!" every one thought.

Father Salvi, motionless and silent, watched him intently.

When the father's grief seemed more controlled, Dona Victorino
presented young Linares. Father Damaso, saying nothing, looked him
over from head to foot, took the letter, read it without appearing
to comprehend, and asked:

"Well, who are you?"

"Alfonso Linares, the godson of your brother-in-law----" stammered the
young fellow. Father Damaso threw back his head and examined him anew,
his face clearing.

"What! It's the godson of Carlicos!" he cried, clasping him in his
arms. "I had a letter from him some days ago. And it is you? You were
not born when I left the country. I did not know you!" And Father
Damaso still held in his strong arms the young man, whose face began
to color, perhaps from embarrassment, perhaps from suffocation. Father
Damaso appeared to have completely forgotten his grief.

After the first moments of effusion and questions about Carlicos and
Pepa, Father Damaso asked:

"Let's see, what is it Carlicos wishes me to do for you?"

"I think he says something about it in the letter," stammered Linares
again.

"In the letter? Yes, that's so! He wishes me to find you employment
and a wife. Ah, the employment is easy enough, but as for the
wife!--hem!--a wife----"

"Father, that is not so urgent," said Linares, with confusion.

But Father Damaso was walking back and forth murmuring: "A wife! A
wife!" His face was no longer sad or joyful, but serious and
preoccupied. From a distance Father Salvi watched the scene.

"I did not think the thing could cause me so much pain," Father
Damaso murmured plaintively; "but of two evils choose the least!" Then
approaching Linares:

"Come with me, my boy," he said, "we will talk with Don
Santiago." Linares paled and followed the priest.

XXXVII.

SCRUTINY OF CONSCIENCE.

Long days followed by weary nights were passed by the pillow of the
sick girl. After a confession to Father Salvi, Maria Clara had had a
relapse