ords had caused. "I thought that
you knew it; but be brave. Here, you know, no man can be honorable
without being imprisoned."

"I cannot believe that you are not jesting," replied Ibarra, after
a few minutes of deep silence. "Can you tell me for what offense he
was imprisoned?"

The old man paused as if to meditate. "It seems strange to me that
you have not been kept informed as to the affairs of your family."

"My father's last letter, which I received a year ago, told me not
to be uneasy if he failed to write to me, for he was very busy. He
advised me to continue my studies, he sent me his blessing----"

"In that case, he must have written the letter to you shortly before
his death. It is almost a year since we buried him in his own town."

"Why was my father arrested?" asked Ibarra in a voice full of emotion.

"The cause of his arrest was an honorable one. I must go to my
quarters now; walk along with me and then I can tell you on the
way. Take my arm."

They walked for some time in melancholy silence. Deep in thought and
nervously stroking his goatee, the officer sought inspiration before
he could begin the pitiful tale.

"As you very well know," he at last began, "your father was the richest
man in the province, and, although he was loved and highly respected by
many, there were some envious persons who hated him. Your father had
a great many enemies among the priests and the Spaniards. Some months
after your departure, trouble arose between Don Rafael and Father
Damaso, but I do not know what it was all about. Father Damaso accused
your father of not attending confession. In former times, however,
he had never attended confession. Nothing was said about it, and he
and the priest were good friends, as you will remember. Furthermore,
Don Rafael was a very honorable man and much more upright and just
than many who go to confession regularly. He was very conscientious,
and, in speaking to me in regard to his troubles with Father Damaso,
used to say:

"'Senor Guevara, do you believe that God will forgive a crime, a
murder for instance, simply because that crime has been confessed
to a priest--confessed to a man who is in duty bound to keep it
secret? Will God pardon a man whose repentance is brought about by
his cowardly fear of hell? I have a very different opinion of God. I
cannot see how one evil can be corrected by another, nor how pardon
can be procured by mere idle tears and donations to the Church.'