Josè had sunk again upon the bench.
“Padre dear!” Carmen came flying to him across the darkness and threw her arms about his neck. “Padre dear! I just couldn’t stand it to leave you!” The flood-gates opened wide, and the girl sobbed upon his shoulder.
“Carmen––child!” But his own tears were mingling freely with hers. The strain of the preceding night had left him weak. He strove feebly to loosen the tightly clasped arms of the weeping girl. Then he buried his drawn face in her thick curls and strained her to his heaving breast. What this might mean to Carmen he knew full well. But––why not have it so? If she preceded him into the dark vale, it would be for only a little while. He would not live without her.
The sobs died away, and the girl looked up at the suffering man.
“Padre dear, you will not send me away––will you?” she pleaded.
“No! no!” he cried fiercely, “not now!”
A happy little sigh escaped her lips. Then she drew herself closer to him and whispered softly, “Padre dear––I love you.”
A groan burst from the man. “God above!” he cried, “have you the heart to let evil attack such a one as this!”
The girl looked up at him in wonder. “Why, Padre dear––what is it? Tell me.”