“True, Rosendo,” replied Josè. “And I am sure that no country offers the asylum that America does––the America of the north. I have never been there, amigo; but of all countries I learn that it is the most tolerant in matters religious. And it offers the greatest opportunities to one, like Carmen, just entering upon life. We will go there. And, Rosendo, prepare yourself and Doña Maria at once, for we had best start without delay.”
But Rosendo shook his head. “No, Padre,” he said slowly. 209 “No. I could not go to the North with you; nor could Maria.”
“But, Rosendo!” exclaimed the priest impatiently, “why?”
“Bien, Padre, we are old. And we know not the language of those up there. Nor the customs. We could not adapt ourselves to their ways of life––no, not at our age. Nor could we endure the change of climate. You tell me they have cold, ice, snow, up there. What could we do? We would die. No, we must remain here. But––” his voice choked.
“Bien, Padre, do you go, and take the girl. Bring her up to be a power for good in that great land. We––Maria and I––will remain in Simití. It is not permitted that we should ever leave. This has always been our home, and here we will die.”
Josè exclaimed again in impatience. But the old man was immovable.
“No, Padre, we could not make so great a change. Anywhere in Colombia would be but little different from Simití. But up north––in that great country where they do those wonderful things you have told me about––no, Padre, Maria and I could not make so great a change.
“But, Padre,” he continued, “what will you do––leave the Church? Or will you still be a priest up there?”
The question startled Josè rudely. In the great joy which the discovery of the gold had stimulated, and in the thought of the possibilities opened by it, he had given no heed to his status respecting the Church. Yet, if he remained in the Church, he could not make this transfer without the approval of the Vatican. And that, he well knew, could not be obtained. No, if he went, he must leave behind all ecclesiastical ties. And with them, doubtless, the ties which still bound him to his distant mother and the family whose honored name he bore. It was not so easy a matter to take the girl and leave Simití, now that he gave the project further consideration.
And yet he could not abandon the idea, however great his present sense of disappointment. He would cling to it as an ideal, some day to be realized, and to be worked up to as rapidly as might be, without exciting suspicion, and without abruptly severing the ties which, on serious reflection, he found he was not morally strong enough as yet to break.