"Dear little child of G.o.d," he murmured, as he bent over her and touched his lips to her rich brown curls, "I have tried my life long to learn what you already know. And at last I have been led to you--to you, little one, who shall be a lamp unto my feet. Dearest child, I want to know your G.o.d as you know Him. I want you to lead me to Him, for you know where He is."
"He is _everywhere_, Padre dear," whispered the child, as she nestled close to the priest and stole her soft arms gently about his neck. "But we don"t see Him nor hear Him if we have bad thoughts, and if we don"t love everybody and everything, even Cuc.u.mbra, and Cantar-las-horas, and--"
"Yes, _chiquita_, I know now," interrupted Jose. "I don"t wonder they all love you."
"But, Padre dear, I love them--and I love you."
The priest strained her to him. His famished heart yearned for love.
Love! first of the tender graces which adorned this beautiful child.
Verily, only those imbued with it become the real teachers of men. The beloved disciple"s last instruction to his dear children was the tender admonition to love one another. But why, oh, why are we bidden to love the fallen, sordid outcasts of this wicked world--the wretched, sinning pariahs--the greedy, grasping, self-centered ma.s.s of humanity that surges about us in such woeful confusion of good and evil? Because the wise Master did. Because he said that G.o.d was Love.
Because he taught that he who loves not, knows not G.o.d. And because, oh, wonderful spiritual alchemy! because Love is the magical potion which, dropping like heavenly dew upon sinful humanity, dissolves the vice, the sorrow, the carnal pa.s.sions, and trans.m.u.tes the brutish mortal into the image and likeness of the perfect G.o.d.
Far into the night, while the child slept peacefully in the bed near him, Jose lay thinking of her and of the sharp turn which she had given to the direction of his life. Through the warm night air the hoa.r.s.e croaking of distant frogs and the mournful note of the toucan floated to his ears. In the street without he heard at intervals the pattering of bare feet in the hot, thick dust, as tardy fishermen returned from their labors. The hum of insects about his _toldo_ lulled him with its low monotone. The call of a lonely jaguar drifted across the still lake from the brooding jungle beyond. A great peace lay over the ancient town; and when, in the early hours of morning, as the distorted moon hung low in the western sky, Jose awoke, the soft breathing of the child fell upon his ears like a benediction; and deep from his heart there welled a prayer--
"My G.o.d--_her_ G.o.d--at last I thank Thee!"
CHAPTER 5
The day following was filled to the brim with bustling activity. Jose plunged into his new life with an enthusiasm he had never known before. His first care was to relieve Rosendo and his good wife of the burden of housing him. Rosendo, protesting against the intimation that the priest could in any way inconvenience him, at last suggested that the house adjoining his own, a small, three-room cottage, was vacant, and might be had at a nominal rental. Some repairs were needed; the mud had fallen from the walls in several places; but he would plaster it up again and put it into habitable condition at once.
During the discussion Don Mario, the Alcalde, called to pay his respects to Jose. He had just returned from a week"s visit to Ocana, whither he had gone on matters of business with Simiti"s most eminent citizen, Don Felipe Alcozer, who was at present sojourning there for reasons of health. Learning of the priest"s recent severe illness, Don Mario had hastened at once to pay his _devoirs_. And now the Holy Virgin be praised that he beheld the _Cura_ again fully restored! Yes, the dismal little house in question belonged to him, but would the _Cura_ graciously accept it, rent free, and with his most sincere compliments? Jose glanced at Rosendo and, reading a meaning in the slight shake of his head, replied that, although overwhelmed by the Alcalde"s kindness, he could take the cottage only on the condition that it should become the parish house, which the Church must support.
A shade of disappointment seemed to cross the heavy face of Don Mario, but he graciously acquiesced in the priest"s suggestion; and arrangements were at once concluded whereby the house became the dwelling place of the new _Cura_.
Rosendo thereupon sent out a call for a.s.sistants, to which the entire unemployed male population of the town responded. Mud for the walls was hastily brought from the lake, and mixed with manure and dried gra.s.s. A half dozen young men started for the islands to cut fresh thatch for the roof. Others set about sc.r.a.ping the hard dirt floors; while Don Mario gave orders which secured a table, several rough chairs, together with iron stewpans and a variety of enameled metal dishes, all of which Rosendo insisted should be charged against the parish. The village carpenter, with his rusty tools and rough, undressed lumber, constructed a bed in one of the rooms; and Juan, the boatman, laboriously sought out stones of the proper shape and size to support the cooking utensils in the primitive dirt hearth.
Often, as he watched the progress of these arrangements, Jose"s thoughts reverted longingly to his father"s comfortable house in far-off Seville; to his former simple quarters in Rome; and to the less pretentious, but still wholly sufficient _menage_ of Cartagena.
Compared with this primitive dwelling and the simple husbandry which it would shelter, his former abodes and manner of life had been extravagantly luxurious. At times he felt a sudden sinking of heart as he reflected that perhaps he should never again know anything better than the lowly life of this dead town. But when his gaze rested upon the little Carmen, flying hither and yon with an ardent, antic.i.p.atory interest in every detail of the preparations, and when he realized that, though her feet seemed to rest in the squalid setting afforded by this dreary place, yet her thought dwelt ever in heaven, his heart welled again with a great thankfulness for the inestimable privilege of giving his new life, in whatever environment, to a soul so fair as hers.
While his house was being set in order under the direction of Rosendo, Jose visited the church with the Alcalde to formulate plans for its immediate repair and renovation. As he surveyed the ancient pile and reflected that it stood as a monument to the inflexible religious convictions of his own distant progenitors, the priest"s sensibilities were profoundly stirred. How little he knew of that long line of ill.u.s.trious ancestry which preceded him! He had been thrust from under the parental wing at the tender age of twelve; but he could not recall that even before that event his father had ever made more than casual mention of the family. Indeed, in the few months since arriving on ancestral soil Jose had gathered up more of the threads which bound him to the ancient house of Rincon than in all the years which preceded. Had he himself only been capable of the unquestioning acceptance of religious dogma which those old _Conqueros_ and early forbears exhibited, to what position of eminence in Holy Church might he not already have attained, with every avenue open to still greater preferment! How happy were his dear mother then! How glorious their honored name!--
With a sigh the priest roused himself and strove to thrust these disturbing thoughts from his mind by centering his attention upon the work in hand. Dona Maria came to him for permission to take the moldy vestments from the _sacristia_ to her house to clean them. The Alcalde, bustling about, panting and perspiring, was distributing countless orders among his willing a.s.sistants. Carmen, who throughout the morning had been everywhere, bubbling with enthusiasm, now appeared at the church door. As she entered the musty, ill-smelling old building she hesitated on the threshold, her childish face screwed into an expression of disgust.
"Come in, little one; I need your inspiration," called Jose cheerily.
The child approached, and slipped her hand into his. "Padre Rosendo says this is G.o.d"s house," she commented, looking up at Jose. "He says you are going to talk about G.o.d here--in this dirty, smelly old place!
Why don"t you talk about Him out of doors?"
Jose was becoming innured to the embarra.s.sment which her direct questions occasioned. And he was learning not to dissemble in his replies.
"It is because the people want to come here, dear one; it is their custom."
Would the people believe that the wafer and wine could be changed into the flesh and blood of Jesus elsewhere--even in Nature"s temple?
"But _I_ don"t want to come here!" she a.s.severated.
"That was a naughty thing to say to the good _Cura_, child!"
interposed Don Mario, who had overheard the girl"s remark. "You see, Padre, how we need a _Cura_ here to save these children; otherwise the Church is going to lose them. They are running pretty wild, and especially this one. She is already dedicated to the Church; but she will have to learn to speak more reverently of holy things if she expects to become a good Sister."
The child looked uncomprehendingly from, one to the other.
"Who dedicated her to the Church?" demanded Jose sharply.
"Oh, Padre Diego, at her baptism, when she was a baby," replied Don Mario in a matter of fact tone.
Jose shuddered at the thought of that unholy man"s loathsome hands resting upon the innocent girl. But he made no immediate reply. Of all things, he knew that the guarding of his own tongue was now most important. But his thought was busy with Rosendo"s burning words of the preceding day, and with his own solemn vow. He reflected on his present paradoxical, hazardous position; on the tremendous problem which here confronted him; and on his desperate need of wisdom--yea, superhuman wisdom--to ward off from this child the net which he knew the subtlety and cruel cunning of shrewd, unscrupulous men would some day cause to be cast about her. A soul like hers, mirrored in a body so wondrous fair, must eventually draw the devil"s most envenomed barbs.
To Jose"s great relief Don Mario turned immediately from the present topic to one relating to the work of renovation. Finding a pretext for sending Carmen back to the house, the priest gave his attention unreservedly to the Alcalde. But his mind ceased not to revolve the implications in Don Mario"s words relative to the girl; and when the midday _siesta_ came upon him his brow was knotted and his eyes gazed vacantly at the manifestations of activity about him.
Hurrying across the road to escape the scalding heat, Jose"s ears again caught the sound of singing, issuing evidently from Rosendo"s house. It was very like the clear, sweet voice which had floated into his room the morning after he awoke from his delirium. He approached the door reverently and looked in. Carmen was arranging the few poor dishes upon the rough table, and as she worked, her soul flowed across her lips in song.
The man listened astonished. The words and the simple melody which carried them were evidently an improvisation. But the voice--did that issue from a human throat? Yes, for in distant Spain and far-off Rome, in great cathedrals and concert halls, he had sometimes listened entranced to voices like this--stronger, and delicately trained, but reared upon even less of primitive talent.
The girl caught sight of him; and the song died on the warm air.
The priest strode toward her and clasped her in his arms. "Carmen, child! Who taught you to sing like that?"
The girl smiled up in his face. "G.o.d, Padre."
Of course! He should have known. And in future he need never ask.
"And I suppose He tells you when to sing, too, as He does Cantar-las-horas?" said Jose, smiling in amus.e.m.e.nt.
"No, Padre," was the unaffected answer. "He just sings Himself in me."
The man felt rebuked for his light remark; and a lump rose in his throat. He looked again into her fair face with a deep yearning.
Oh, ye of little faith! Did you but know--could you but realize--that the kingdom of heaven is within you, would not celestial melody flow from your lips, too?
Throughout the afternoon, while he labored with his willing helpers in the church building and his homely cottage, the child"s song lingered in his brain, like the memory of a sweet perfume. His eyes followed her lithe, graceful form as she flitted about, and his mind was busy devising pretexts for keeping her near him. At times she would steal up close to him and put her little hand lovingly and confidingly into his own. Then as he looked down into her upturned face, wreathed with smiles of happiness, his breath would catch, and he would turn hurriedly away, that she might not see the tears which suffused his eyes.
When night crept down, unheralded, from the _Sierras_, the priest"s house stood ready for its occupant. Cantar-las-horas had dedicated it by singing the _Angelus_ at the front door, for the hour of six had overtaken him as he stood, with c.o.c.ked head, peering curiously within.
The dwelling, though pitifully bare, was nevertheless as clean as these humble folk with the primitive means at their command could render it. Instead of the customary hard _macana_ palm strips for the bed, Rosendo had thoughtfully subst.i.tuted a large piece of tough white canvas, fastened to a rectangular frame, which rested on posts well above the damp floor. On this lay a white sheet and a light blanket of red flannel. Rosendo had insisted that, for the present, Jose should take his meals with him. The priest"s domestic arrangements, therefore, would be simple in the extreme; and Dona Maria quietly announced that these were in her charge. The church edifice would not be in order for some days yet, perhaps a week. But of this Jose was secretly glad, for he regarded with dread the necessity of discharging the priestly functions. And yet, upon that hinged his stay in Simiti.
"Simiti has two churches, you know, Padre," remarked Rosendo during the evening meal. "There is another old one near the eastern edge of town. If you wish, we can visit it while there is yet light."
Jose expressed his pleasure; and a few minutes later the two men, with Carmen dancing along happily beside them, were climbing the shaly eminence upon the summit of which stood the second church. On the way they pa.s.sed the town cemetery.
"The Spanish cemetery never grows," commented Jose, stopping at the crumbling gateway and peering in. The place of sepulture was the epitome of utter desolation. A tumbled brick wall surrounded it, and there were a few broken brick vaults, in some of which whitening bones were visible. In a far corner was a heap of human bones and bits of decayed coffins.
"Their rent fell due, Padre," said Rosendo with a little laugh, indicating the bones. "The Church rents this ground to the people--it is consecrated, you know. And if the payments are not made, why, the bones come up and are thrown over there."
"Humph!" grunted Jose. "Worse than heathenish!"
"But you see, Padre, the Church is only concerned with souls. And it is better to pay the money to get souls out of purgatory than to rent a bit of ground for the body, is it not?"