The big car whirled around a corner and stopped before a dingy little church edifice surmounted by a weather-beaten cross. On the steps of a modest frame house adjoining stood a man. He turned as the car came up.
“Father Waite!” Carmen threw wide the door of the car and sprang out. “Father Waite!” clasping his hands. “Don’t you know me? I’m Carmen!”
A light came into the startled man’s eyes. He recognized 164 her. Then he stepped back, that he might better see her. More than a year had passed since he had taken her, so oddly garbed, and clinging tightly to his hand, into the Ketchim office. And in that time, he thought, she had been transformed into a vision of heavenly beauty.
“Well!” cried the impatient girl. “Aren’t you going to speak?” And with that she threw her arms about him and kissed him loudly on both cheeks.
The man and Miss Wall gave vent to exclamations of astonishment. He colored violently; Miss Wall sat with mouth agape.
“Aren’t you glad to see me?” pursued the girl, again grasping his hands.
Then he found his tongue. “An angel from heaven could not be more welcome,” he said. But his voice was low, and the note of sadness was prominent.
“Well, I am an angel from heaven,” said the laughing, artless girl. “And I’m an Inca princess. And I’m just plain Carmen Ariza. But, whoever I am, I am, oh, so glad to see you again! I––” she looked about carefully––“I read your sermon in the newspaper this morning. Did you mean me?” she concluded abruptly.
He smiled wanly. “Yes, I meant you,” he softly answered.
“Come with me now,” said the eager girl. “I want to talk with you.”