rned her face to the pillow, and
for a moment a sob shook her. Then she reached under the pillow and
drew out the little Bible, which she had taken from her bundle and
placed there when the Sister left her the night before. The book fell
open to Isaiah, and she read aloud:

"I the Lord have called thee in righteousness, and will hold thine
hand, and will keep thee, and give thee for a covenant of the
people, for a light of the Gentiles."

She snapped the book shut and quickly rose. "That means me," she said
firmly. "Padre Jose said I had a message for the world; and now I
am to tell it to these people up here. God has called me in
righteousness. That means, He has called me to do _right thinking_.
And I am to tell these people how to think right. They don't know
as yet."

Suddenly her thought reverted to Cartagena, and to the sturdy little
lad who had so proudly claimed the name of Rincon. For a moment she
stood still. Then she burst into tears and threw herself back upon the
bed.

But she did not lie there long. "I must think only God's thoughts,"
she said, struggling to her feet and checking her grief. "If it is
right for the little boy to be his son, then I must want it to be so.
I _must_ want only the right--I have _got_ to want it! And if it is
not right now, then God will make it so. It is all in His hands, and I
must not think of it any more, unless I think right thoughts."

She dressed herself quickly, but did not put on the shoes. "I simply
can not wear these things," she mourned, looking at them dubiously;
"and I do not believe the woman will make me. I wonder why the other
woman called her Sister. Why did she wear that ugly black bonnet? And
why was I hurried away from that hotel? It was so much pleasanter
there, so bright and warm; and here it is so cold." She shivered as
she buttoned her thin dress. "But," she continued, "I have got to go
out now and find Mr. Reed and Mr. Harris--I have just _got_ to find
them--and to-day! But, oh, this city is so much larger than Simiti!"

She shook her head in perplexity as she put the Bible back again in
the bundle, where lay the title papers to La Libertad and her mother's
little locket, which Rosendo had given her that last morning in
Simiti. The latter she drew out and regarded wistfully for some
moments. "I haven't any father or mother but God," she murmured. "But
He is both father and mother to me now." With a little sigh she tied
up the bundle again.