"But, Padre," persisted Rosendo, "who made the devil?"
"There is no devil!"
"But there is wickedness--"
"No!" interrupted Jose emphatically. "G.o.d is infinite good, and there can be no real evil."
"But how do you know that, Padre?"
"I can"t say how I know it--it reasons out that way logically. I think I begin to see the light. Can you not see that for some reason Carmen doesn"t admit the existence of evil? And you know, and I know, that she is on the right track. I have followed the opposite path all my life; and it led right into the slough of despond. Now I have turned, and am trying to follow her. And do you put the thought of Satan out of your mentality and do likewise."
"But, the Virgin Mary--she has power with G.o.d?" Rosendo"s primitive ideas were in a hopeless tangle.
"Good friend, forget the Virgin Mary," said Jose gently, laying his hand on Rosendo"s arm.
"Forget her! _Hombre!_ Why--she has all power--she works miracles every hour--she directs the angels--gives commands to G.o.d himself!
Padre Simon said she was the absolute mistress of heaven and earth, and that men and animals, the plants, the winds, all health, sickness, life and death, depended upon her will! He said she did not die as we must, but that she was taken up into heaven, and that her body was not allowed to decay and return to dust, as ours will. _Hombre!_ She is in heaven now, praying for us. What would become of us but for her?--for she prays to G.o.d for us--she--!"
"No, Rosendo, she does nothing of the kind. G.o.d is infinite, unchanging. He could not be moved or influenced by the Virgin Mary or any one else. He is unlimited _good_. He is not angry with us--He couldn"t be, for He could not know anger. Did not Jesus say that G.o.d was Love? Love does not afflict--Love does not need to be importuned or prayed to. I see it now. I see something of what Carmen sees. We suffer when we sin, because we "miss the mark." But the punishment lasts only as long as the sin continues. And we suffer only until we know that G.o.d is infinite good, and that there is no evil. That is the truth, I feel sure, which Jesus came to teach, and which he said would make us free. Free from what? From the awful beliefs that use us, and to which we are now subject, until we learn the facts about G.o.d and His creation. Don"t you see that infinite good could never create evil, nor ever permit evil to be created, nor allow it to really exist?"
"Well, then, what is evil? And where did it come from?"
"That we must wait to learn, Rosendo, little by little. You know, the Spanish proverb says, "Step by step goes a great way." But meantime, let us go forward, clinging to this great truth: G.o.d is infinite good--He is love--we are His dear children--and evil was _not_ made by Him, and does not have His sanction. It therefore cannot be real. It must be illusion. And, being such, it can be overcome, as Jesus said it could."
"_Na_, Padre--"
"Wait, Rosendo!" Jose held up his hand. "Carmen is doing just what I am advising you to do--is she not?"
"Yes, Padre."
"Do you think she is mistaken?"
"Padre, she knows G.o.d better than she knows me," the man whispered.
"It was you who first told her that G.o.d was everywhere, was it not?"
"Yes, Padre."
And the mind of the child, keenly sensitive and receptive to truth, had eagerly grasped this dictum and made it the motif of her life. She knew nothing of Jesus, nothing of current theology. Divine Wisdom had used Rosendo, credulous and superst.i.tious though he himself was, to guard this girl"s mind against the entrance of errors which were taught him as a child, and which in manhood held him shackled in chains which he might not break.
"Rosendo," Jose spoke low and reverently, "I believe now that you and I have both been guided by that great mind which I am calling G.o.d. I believe we are being used for some beneficent purpose, and that it has to do with Carmen. That purpose will be unfolded to us as we bow to His will. Every way closed against me, excepting the one that led to Simiti. Here I found her. And now there seems to be but one way open to you--to go back to Guamoco. And you go, forgetful of self, thinking only that you serve her. Ah, friend, you are serving Him whom you reflect in love to His beautiful child."
"Yes, Padre."
"But, while we accept our tasks gratefully, I feel that we shall be tried--and we may not live to see the results of our labors. There are influences abroad which threaten danger to Carmen and to us. Perhaps we shall not avert them. But we have given ourselves to her, and through her to the great purpose with which I feel she is concerned."
Rosendo slowly rose, and his great height and magnificent physique cast the shadow of a Brobdignan in the light as he stood in the doorway.
"Padre," he replied, "I am an old man, and I have but few years left.
But however many they be, they are hers. And had I a thousand, I would drag them all through the fires of h.e.l.l for the child! I cannot follow you when you talk about G.o.d. My mind gets weary. But this I know, the One who brought me here and then went away will some day call for me--and I am always ready."
He turned into the house and sought his hard bed. The great soul knew not that he reflected the light of divine Love with a radiance unknown to many a boasting "vicar of Christ."
CHAPTER 9
At the first faint flush of morn Rosendo departed for the hills. The emerald coronels of the giant _ceibas_ on the far lake verge burned softly with a ruddy glow. From the water"s dimpling surface downy vapors rose languidly in delicate tints and drew slowly out in nebulous bands across the dawn sky. The smiling softness of the velvety hills beckoned him, and the pungent odor of moist earth dilated his nostrils. He laughed aloud as the joyousness of youth surged again through his veins. The village still slumbered, and no one saw him as he smote his great chest and strode to the boat, where Juan had disposed his outfit and was waiting to pole him across. Only the faithful Dona Maria had softly called a final "_adioscito_" to him when he left his house. A half hour later, when the dugout poked its blunt nose into the ooze of the opposite sh.o.r.e, he leaped out and hurriedly divested himself of his clothing. Then he lifted his chair with its supplies to his shoulders, and Juan strapped it securely to his back, drawing the heavy band tightly across his forehead. With a farewell wave of his hand to the lad, the man turned and plunged into the Guamoco trail, and was quickly lost in the dense thicket. Six days later, if no accident befell, he would reach his destination, the singing waters of the crystal Tigui.
His heart leaped as he strode, though none knew better than he what hardships those six days held for him--days of plunging through fever-laden bogs; staggering in withering heat across open savannas; now scaling the slippery slopes of great mountains; now swimming the chill waters of rushing streams; making his bed where night overtook him, among the softly pattering forest denizens and the swarming insect life of the dripping woods. His black skin glistened with perspiration and the heavy dew wiped from the close-growing bush. With one hand he leaned upon a young sapling cut for a staff. With the other he incessantly swung his _machete_ to clear the dim trail. His eyes were held fixed to the ground, to escape tripping over low vines, and to avoid contact with crawling creatures of the jungle, whose sting, inflicted without provocation, might so easily prove fatal. His active mind sported the while among the fresh thoughts stimulated by.
his journey, though back of all, as through a veil, the vision of Carmen rose like the pillar of cloud which guided the wandering Israel. Toil and danger fled its presence; and from it radiated a warm glow which suffused his soul with light.
When Jose arose that morning he was still puzzling over the logical conclusions drawn from his premise of the evening before, and trying to reconcile them with common sense and prevalent belief. In a way, he seemed to be an explorer, carving a path to hidden wonders. Dona Maria greeted him at the breakfast table with the simple announcement of Rosendo"s early departure. No sign of sorrow ruffled her quiet and dignified demeanor. Nor did Carmen, who bounded into his arms, fresh as a new-blown rose, manifest the slightest indication of anxiety regarding Rosendo"s welfare. Jose might not divine the thoughts which the woman"s placid exterior concealed. But for the child, he well knew that her problem had been met and solved, and that she had laid it aside with a trust in immanent good which he did not believe all the worldly argument of pedant or philosopher could shake.
"Now to business once more!" cried Jose joyously, the meal finished.
"Just a look-in at the church, to get the boys started; and then to devote the day to you, senorita!" The child laughed at the appellation.
Returning from the church some moments later, Jose found Carmen bending over the fireplace, struggling to remove a heavy kettle from the hot stones.
"Careful, child!" he cried in apprehension, hurrying to her a.s.sistance. "You will burn your fingers, or hurt yourself!"
"Not unless you make me, Padre," Carmen quickly replied, rising and confronting the priest with a demeanor whose every element spelled rebuke.
"Well, I certainly shall not _make_ you!" the man exclaimed in surprise.
"No, Padre. G.o.d will not let you. He does not burn or hurt people."
"Certainly not! But--"
"And nothing else can, for He is everywhere--isn"t He?"
"Well--perhaps so," the priest retorted impatiently. "But somehow people get burnt and hurt just the same, and it is well to be careful."
The child studied him for a moment. Then she said quietly--
"I guess people burn and hurt themselves because they are afraid--don"t they? And I am not afraid."
She tossed her brown curls as if in defiance of the thought of fear.
Yet Jose somehow felt that she never really defied evil, but rather met its suggestions with a firm conviction of its impotence in the presence of immanent good. He checked the impulse to further conversation. Bidding the child come to him as soon as possible to begin the day"s work, he went back to his own abode to reflect.
He had previously said that this child should be brought up to know no evil. And yet, was he not suggesting evil to her at every turn? Did not his insistence upon the likelihood of hurting or burning herself emphasize his own stalwart belief in evil as an immanent power and contingency? Was he thus always to maintain a house divided against itself? But some day she _must_ know, whether by instruction or dire experience, that evil is a fact to be reckoned with! And as her protector, it was his duty to--But he had not the heart to shatter such beautiful confidence!
Then he fell to wondering how long that pure faith could endure.
Certainly not long if she were subjected to the sort of instruction which the children of this world receive. But was it not his duty with proper tutelage to make it last as long as possible? Was it not even now so firmly grounded that it never could be shaken?
He dwelt on the fact that nearly all children at some period early in life commune with their concept of G.o.d. He had, himself. As a very young child he had even felt himself on such terms of familiarity with G.o.d that he could not sleep without first bidding Him good night. As a young child, too, he had known no evil. Nor do any children, until their perfect confidence in good is chilled by the false instruction of parents and teachers, who parade evil before them in all its hideous garb.