“Quien sabe? good friend,” Diego made hasty reply. “My plans seem quite altered since coming here. Bien, we must see. But I will leave you now. And you will send Carmen to 121 me at once? And bid her bring her mother’s locket. Conque, hasta luego, amigo.”
He went to the door, and seeing his two negro peones loitering near, walked confidently and briskly to the house of Don Mario.
Josè, bewildered and benumbed, staggered into his sleeping room and sank upon the bed.
“Padre––Padre dear.”
Carmen stood beside the stricken priest, and her little hand crept into his.
“I watched until I saw him go, and then I came in. He has bad thoughts, hasn’t he? But––Padre dear, what is it? Did he make you think bad thoughts, too? He can’t, you know, if you don’t want to.”
She bent over him and laid her cheek against his. Josè stared unseeing up at the thatch roof.
“Padre dear, everything has a rule, a principle, you told me. Don’t you remember? But his thoughts haven’t any principle, have they? Any more than the mistakes I make in algebra. Aren’t we glad we know that!”
The child kissed the suffering man and wound her arms about his neck.