o it," said the priest, not moving. And Felipe stole
away.

At Felipe's words the voices had stopped, as a clock finishes striking.
Silence, strained like expectation, filled the Padre's soul. But in
place of the voices came old sights of home again, the waving trees at
Aranhal; then it would be Rachel for a moment, declaiming tragedy while
a houseful of faces that he knew by name watched her; and through all
the panorama rang the pleasant laugh of Gaston. For a while in the
evening the Padre sat at his Erard playing Trovatore. Later, in his
sleepless bed he lay, saying now and then: "To die at home! Surely I
may be granted at least this." And he listened for the inner voices. But
they were not speaking any more, and the black hole of silence grew
more dreadful to him than their arguments. Then the dawn came in at
his window, and he lay watching its gray grow warm into color, until
suddenly he sprang from his bed and looked at the sea. Blue it lay,
sapphire-hued and dancing with points of gold, lovely and luring as
a charm; and over its triangle the south-bound ship was approaching.
People were on board who in a few weeks would be sailing the Atlantic,
while he would stand here looking out of this same window. "Merciful
God!" he cried, sinking on his knees. "Heavenly Father, Thou seest this
evil in my heart! Thou knowest that my weak hand cannot pluck it out! My
strength is breaking, and still Thou makest my burden heavier than I
can bear." He stopped, breathless and trembling. The same visions was
flitting across his closed eyes; the same silence gaped like a dry
crater in his soul. "There is no help in earth or heaven," he said, very
quietly; and he dressed himself.

VI

It was still so early that few of the Indians were stirring, and one
of these saddled the Padre's mule. Felipe was not yet awake, and for a
moment it came in the priest's mind to open the boy's door softly, look
at him once more, and come away. But this he did not, nor even take a
farewell glance at the church and organ. He bade nothing farewell, but,
turning his back upon his room and his garden, rode down the canyon.

The vessel lay at anchor, and some one had landed from ha and was
talking with other men on the shore. Seeing the priest slowly coming,
this stranger approached to meet him.

"You are connected with the mission here?" he inquired.

"I--am."

"Perhaps it is with you that Gaston Villere stopped?"

"The young man from New