of gladness--for he went to die. Life had yielded
him nothing--and constituted as he was, it could hold nothing for him
in the future.

The glorious moon poured its full splendor upon the quiet city.
Through the haze the convent on La Popa sparkled like an enchanted
castle, with a pavement of soft moonbeams leading up to its doors. The
trill of a distant nightingale rippled the scented air; and from the
_llanos_ were borne on the warm land breeze low feral sounds, broken
now and then by the plaintive piping of a lonely toucan. The cocoa
palms throughout the city stirred dreamily in the tempered moonlight;
and the banana trees, bending with their luscious burden, cast great,
mysterious shadows, wherein insect life rustled and scampered in
nocturnal activity.

"Padre Jose!"

A woman's voice called from below. The priest leaned over the wall.

"It is Catalina. I have been hunting everywhere. Maria is calling for
you. She cannot live long. You will come?"

Come? Yes--ah, why did he let his own misery blind him to the sorrow
of others even more unfortunate! Why had he forgotten the little
Maria! Descending the broad incline to the road below, Jose hurried
with the woman to the bedside of the dying girl. On the way the
warm-hearted, garrulous Catalina relieved her troubled and angered
soul.

"Padre Lorenzo came this morning. He would not shrive her unless we
would pay him first. He said he would do it for ten _pesos_--then
five--and then three. And when we kept telling him that we had no
money he told us to go out and borrow it, or he would leave the little
Maria to die as she was. He said she was a vile sinner anyway--that
she had not made her Easter duty--that she could not have the
Sacrament--and her soul would go straight to hell--and there was no
redemption! Then he came again this afternoon and said she must die;
but he would shrive her for two _pesos_. And when we told him we could
not borrow the money he was terribly angry, and cursed--and Marcelena
was frightened--and the little Maria almost died. But I told him to
go--that her little soul was whiter than his--and if he went to heaven
I didn't want Maria to go there too--and--!"

The woman's words burned through the priest's ears and into his
sickened soul. Recovering her breath, Catalina went on:

"It is only a few days ago that the little Maria meets Sister Isabel
in the _plaza_. 'Ah,' says Sister Isabel, 'you are going to be a
mother.'

"'Yes, Sister