adre.
Temptation sticks closer to me than a brother!" and he gave that laugh
of his which disarmed severer judges than his host. "By next week I
should have introduced some sin or other into your beautiful Garden of
Ignorance here. It will be much safer for your flock if I go and join
the other serpents at San Francisco."

Soon after breakfast the padre had his two mules saddled, and he and his
guest set forth down the hills together to the shore. And beneath the
spell and confidence of pleasant, slow riding, and the loveliness of
everything, the young man talked freely of himself.

"And, seriously," said he, "if I missed nothing else at Santa Ysabel, I
should long to hear the birds. At home our gardens are full of them, and
one smells the jasmine, and they sing and sing! When our ship from
the Isthmus put into San Diego, I decided to go on by land and see
California. Then, after the first days, I began to miss something. All
that beauty seemed empty, in a way. And suddenly I found it was the
birds. For these little scampering quail are nothing. There seems a sort
of death in the air where no birds ever sing."

"You will not find any birds at San Francisco," said the padre.

"I shall find life!" exclaimed Gaston. "And my fortune at the mines, I
hope. I am not a bad fellow, father. You can easily guess all the things
that I do. I have never, to my knowledge, harmed any one. I did not even
try to kill my adversary in an affair of honor. I gave him a mere flesh
wound, and by this time he must be quite recovered. He was my friend.
But as he came between me--"

Gaston stopped; and the padre, looking keenly at him, saw the violence
that he had noticed in church pass like a flame over the young man's
handsome face.

"There's nothing dishonorable," said Gaston, answering the priest's
look.

"I have not thought so, my son."

"I did what every gentleman would do," said Gaston.

"And that is often wrong!" cried the padre. "But I'm not your
confessor."

"I've nothing to confess," said Gaston, frankly. "I left New Orleans at
once, and have travelled an innocent journey straight to you. And when I
make my fortune I shall be in a position to return and--"

"Claim the pressed flower!" put in the padre, laughing.

"Ah, you remember how those things are!" said Gaston; and he laughed
also and blushed.

"Yes," said the padre, looking at the anchored barkentine, "I remember
how those things are." And for a while the vessel