, for she wishes to make no one her enemy; and
it is commonly supposed that her soul is filled with the most ardent
devotion, and that it is her fixed intention to dedicate her life to
practices of charity and religious piety.

My father, according to the general opinion, has not succeeded better
than her other suitors; but Pepita, to fulfill the adage that "courtesy
and candor are consistent with each other," takes the greatest pains to
give him proofs of a frank, affectionate, and disinterested friendship.
She is unremitting in her attentions to him, and, when he tries to speak
to her of love, she brings him to a stop with a sermon delivered with
the most winning sweetness, recalling to his memory his past faults, and
endeavoring to undeceive him in regard to the world and its vain pomps.

I confess that I begin to have some curiosity to know this woman, so
much do I hear her spoken of; nor do I think my curiosity is without
foundation, or that there is anything in it either vain or sinful. I
myself feel the truth of what Pepita says; I myself desire that my
father, in his advanced years, should enter upon a better life, should
forget, and not seek to renew the agitations and passions of his youth,
and should attain to the enjoyment of a tranquil, happy, and honorable
old age. I differ from Pepita's way of thinking in one thing only; I
believe my father would succeed in this rather by marrying a good and
worthy woman who loved him, than by remaining single. For this very
reason I desire to become acquainted with Pepita, in order to know if
she be this woman; for I am to a certain extent troubled--and perhaps
there is in this feeling something of family pride, which, if it be
wrong, I desire to divest myself of--by the disdain, however honeyed and
gracious, of the young widow.

If my situation were other than it is, I should prefer my father to
remain unmarried. Then, being the only child, I should inherit all his
wealth, and, as one might say, nothing less than the position of squire
of the village. But you already know how firm is the resolution I have
taken. Humble and unworthy though I be, I feel myself called to the
priesthood, and the possessions of this world have but little power over
my mind. If there is anything in me of the ardor of youth, and the
vehemence of the passions proper to that age, it shall all be employed
in nourishing an active and fecund charity. Even the many books you have
given me to read,