It is a hard land for all who come. Tell me of yourself,
Apolinaria. Have you found many trials? But I think you can have none
now, for though you work hard, you must be very happy with it all. You
see I have heard much about you, and the good you have done in these
last years."

"Another time maybe, Pedro," Apolinaria replied, "but you are here to
get well, and I cannot stop now to talk. I must make my rounds. I shall
see you again, for I come here every day."

And Apolinaria left him hastily to visit another room of the hospital.
His gaze followed her until she was out of sight; then, slowly closing
his eyes, he leaned back in his chair.

The next day he was too ill to leave his bed. His attack was not severe,
but the disease seemed to leave him without strength to recover, and
many days passed before he began to improve. During all the time,
Apolinaria visited him once or twice every day, and it was not long
before Pedro learned to know her hours for the hospital, and to watch
and wait for her coming. If, for any reason, she was delayed in her
daily visit to him, he fretted nervously until she appeared. Now this,
to one in his condition, is dangerous, but how could poor, simple Pedro
know it? So he gave himself to his one happiness of the moment, without
suspicion of whither it was leading him. The nurses in the hospital soon
noticed his interest in Apolinaria, but mistook the direction it was
taking.

"How can I help loving her?" he said, in response to some remark made to
him. "Saw you ever any one so beautiful as she? I could pray to her as I
do to the Holy Virgin, for I think she is as good. She is una beata, is
she not?"

And those who heard what he said were of one mind on this point, and the
title thus given to Apolinaria by the man who loved her, was, ere long,
the one by which she became known to all--La Beata(1).

But before Pedro had entirely recovered from his illness, he realized
the nature of his fondness for Apolinaria. Dismayed and perplexed, he
knew not what to do, for, to tell his love for her seemed to his simple
eyes an impertinence. That he should dare to love one so immeasurably
above him one in whom earthly love was merged in her love for God and
her fellowmen! No, he must go back to his old life at the presidio, just
as soon as he was able, and leave her with his love unsaid.

But love sometimes is stronger than will, and so it proved in Pedro's
case. He determined to leave the missio