nk it unmaidenly to
declare her love for him, to show him unmistakably that she hoped to
become his wife.

The man's heart gave a mighty leap. The beautiful child in his arms
was human! Young in years, and yet a woman by the conventions of these
tropic lands. He bent his head and kissed her. Why, she had long
insisted that she would wait for him! And why should he now oppose the
externalization of that sweet thought?

"Ah, _chiquita_," he murmured, "I will indeed go with you now! I will
send my resignation to the Bishop at once. No, I will wait and send it
from the States. I will renounce my oath, abjure my promise--"

The girl sat suddenly upright and looked earnestly into his eyes.
"What do you mean, Padre?" she queried dubiously. "What did you
promise?"

"Ah, I have never told you. But--I promised my mother, dearest one,
that I would always remain a priest--unless, indeed, the Church
herself should eject me from the priesthood. But, it was foolish--"

"And your mother--she expects you to keep your word?"

"Yes, _chiquita_."

The girl sat in pensive silence for a moment. "But, Padre," she
resumed, "honesty--it is the very first thing that God requires of us.
We have to be--we _must_ be honest, for He is Truth. He cannot see or
recognize error, you know. And so He cannot see you and help you if
you are dishonest."

"I know, child. And I tried to be honest, even when circumstances and
my own poor resistive force combined to direct me into the priesthood.
But--since that day I have lived a life of hypocrisy, not knowing how
to shape my course. Then, at length, I met you. It was--too late!"

"But, Padre, the Church has not put you out? You are still a priest?"

"Yes," sadly; "and no."

"But, if you went to the States--with me--would you be put out of the
Church?"

"Possibly, _chiquita_."

"And what would that mean, Padre?"

"The disgrace that always attaches to an apostate priest, child."

"And, Padre--your mother--what would she say?"

Jose hung his head. "It would kill her," he replied slowly.

Carmen reflected long, while Jose, with ebbing hope, waited. "Padre
dear," she finally said, "then you have not yet worked out your
problem--have you?"

No, he knew that. And he was now attempting to solve it by flight.

"I mean, Padre, you have not worked it out in God's way. For if you
had, no one would be hurt, and there could not be any disgrace, or
unhappiness--could there?"

"But, _chiquita_," he