been to keep you the pure and simple being that you were when
you came to me. Do not forget--God demandeth that the souls which he
gave into our keeping should be returned unto him again in the same pure
unblemished state that we received them. Therefore, take heed, my child,
for although God has endowed you with great beauty of both mind and
body, do not foolishly imagine that, by arraying yourself in the
vanities of this world, you can add an atom to the natural beauty He has
bestowed upon you already. Be but pleasing in God's sight and it must
follow that you will please all men as well."

"Oh! you really do think me beautiful, Padre?" she cried, a radiant look
on her face.

"My child, my child, you do not listen to what I have to say!" he
groaned despairingly.

"Oh, yes, I do, Padre _mio_! But you forget that, when God endowed woman
with a soul, he gave her a heart as well. Willingly we render our souls
unto God, but our hearts belong to men." The logic of her argument was
too much for Padre Antonio, and he laughed as she had never seen him
laugh before.

"Verily," he said at length, wiping the tears from his eyes and
reseating himself on the bench, "the spirit and flesh must ever contend
for the mastery of the soul on earth; it is our fate--the good Lord
intended that it should be so."

"Ah, yes," she returned. "It's not always the good that seems to please
us most in this world."

"Aye, verily!" he rejoined, relapsing into silence. Again the linnet
gave voice to his song, and the cooling breeze sighed among the tamarisk
plumes that waved about their heads.

"Do you remember when you first came to me, Chiquita _mia_?" he asked at
last.

"That was ten years ago, Padre."

"I then thought," he went on, "that the good Lord had sent you to me to
make a little angel out of you, but--"

"Ah, Padre _mio_," she interrupted, "it's too bad! I'm afraid I'm still
the little devil that I was!" and laughing, she rose from her seat and
passing around to his end of the bench, stood beside him and began to
pull the leaves from a rose-bush.

"Padre _mio_," she said softly, looking down at him with mischievous
lights dancing in her eyes, "you don't really regret that I have
remained what I am, do you?"

"Oh, I didn't mean to infer that, my child!" he answered with a note of
reproach in his voice, looking up into her shadowy, downcast face. She
gave a little laugh, and tapping him gently on one shoulder with her
fan, s