"I will try to trust him; and may he make his strength perfect in my weakness," said Carlos. "But for the present," he added, "give me any lowly work to do, whereby I may aid you or lighten your cares, my loved friend and teacher."
Losada gladly gave him, as indeed he had done several times before, instructions to visit certain secret inquirers, and persons in distress and perplexity of mind.
He passed the next two or three days in these ministrations, and in constant prayer, especially for the remaining monks of San Isodro, whose sore peril pressed heavily on his heart. He sought, as much as possible, to shut out other thoughts; or, when they would force an entrance, to cast their burden, which otherwise would have been intolerable, upon Him who would surely care for his own Church, his few sheep in the wilderness.
One morning he remained late in his chamber, writing a letter to his brother; and then went forth, intending to visit Losada. As it was a fast-day, and he kept the Church fasts rigorously, it happened that he had not previously met any of his uncle's family.
The entrance to the physician's house did not present its usual cheerful appearance. The gate was shut and bolted, and there was no sign of patients passing in or out Carlos became alarmed. It was long before he obtained an answer to his repeated calls. At last, however, some one inside cried, "Quien es?"[#]
[#] Who is there?
Carlos gave his name, well known to all the household.
Then the door was half opened, and a mulatto serving-lad showed a terrified face behind it.
"Where is Señor Cristobal?"
"Gone, señor."