from
righteousness by the comforting touch of his new habit, when he looked
up and saw the party from the presidio floundering over the last of the
sand hills. He shuffled off to order refreshments, and returned in
time to disburden the carreta of Dona Ignacia--no mean feat--volubly
delighted in the visit and the gossip it portended. But as he offered
his arm to lead her into the sala, she pushed him aside and pointed to
Concha, who had sprung to the ground unassisted.

"She has come to confess, padre!" she exclaimed, her mind, under the
deep tiled roof of the corridor, readjusting itself to tragedy. "I beg
that you will take her at once. Padre Landaeta can give us chocolate
and we will tell our terrible news to him and receive advice and
consolation."

Father Abella, not without a glimmering of the truth, for better than
any one he understood the girl he had confessed many times, besides
himself having succumbed to the Russian, led the way to the
confessional in some perturbation of spirit. He walked slowly, hoping
that the long, cool church, its narrow high windows admitting so scant
a meed of sunlight that no one of its worshippers had ever read the
legends on the walls, and even the stations were but deeper bits of
shade, would attune her mind to holy things, and throw a mantle of
unreality over those of the world.

He covered his face with his hand as she told her story. This she did
in a few words, disjointed, for she was both tired and seething. For a
few moments afterward there was a silence; the good priest was
increasingly disturbed and by no means certain of his course. He was
astonished to feel a tug at his sleeve. Before he could reprove this
impenitent child for audacity she had raised herself that she might
approach her lips more closely to his ear.

"Mi padre!" she whispered hoarsely, "you will take my part! You will
not condemn me to a life of misery! I am too proud to speak openly to
others--but I love this man more than my soul--more than my immortal
soul. Do you hear? I am in danger of mortal sin. Perhaps I am
already in that state. You cannot save me if he goes. I will not
pray. I will not come to the church. I will be an outcast. If I
marry him, I will be a good Catholic to the end of my days. If I marry
him I can think of other things besides--of my church, my father, my
mother, my sisters, brothers. If he goes, I shall pass my life
thinking of nothing but him, and if it