EN ARIZA 
 
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Cornell University Library 
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 Carmen Ariza 
 
 3 1924 021 704 733 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924021704733 
 
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CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES FRANCIS ^TOCKING, E. M. 
 
 Author of THE DIARY OF JEAN EVARTS, 
 THOU ISRAEL, Etc. 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 THE MAESTRO CO. 
 
 1922 
 
Copyright 1916 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARUE5 FRANCIS STOCKING 
 
 ISSUED JANUARY 1916 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 THIRTY-FIFTH PRINTING 
 
 PRINTED IN U. S. A: 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 D 
 
 BOOK 1 
 
 OTH this offend you? — the words that I speak unto you, 
 they are spirit, and they are life. 
 
 — Jesus. 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 1 
 
 THE tropical sun mounted the rim of the golden Caribbean, 
 quivered for a moment like a fledgeling preening its wings 
 for night, then launched forth boldly into the vault of 
 heaven, shattering the lowering vapors of night into a myriad 
 fleecy clouds of every form and color, and driving them before 
 it into the abysmal blue above. Leaping the sullen walls of old 
 Cartagena, the morning beams began to glow in roseate hues 
 on the red-tiled roofs of this ancient metropolis of New 
 Granada, and glance in shafts of fire from her glittering domes 
 and towers. Swiftly they climbed the moss-grown sides of 
 church and convent, and glided over the dull white walls of 
 prison and monastery alike. Pouring through half-turned shut- 
 ters, they plashed upon floors in floods of gold. Tapping 
 noiselessly on closed portals, they seemed to bid tardy sleepers 
 arise, lest the hurrying midday siesta overtake them with tasks 
 unfinished. The dormitory of the ecclesiastical college, just 
 within the east wall of the city, glowed brilliantly in the clear 
 light which it was reflecting to the mirror of waters without. 
 Its huge bulk had caught the first rays of the rising sun, most 
 of which had rebounded from its drab, incrusted walls and 
 sped out again over the dancing sea. A few, however, escaped 
 reflection by stealing through the Slanting shutters of a window 
 close under the roof of the building. Within, they fell upon a 
 man kneeling on the tiled floor beside a rude cot bed. 
 
 In appearance the man was not more than twenty-five years 
 of age. His black, close-curling hair, oval face, and skin of 
 deep olive tint indicated a Latin origin. His clerical garb 
 proclaimed him a son of the Church. The room was a small, 
 whitewashed cell of stone, musty with the dampness which had 
 swept in from the sea during the night. It was furnished with 
 Spartan simplicity. Neither image, crucifix, nor painting 
 adorned its walls — the occupant's dress alone suggested his 
 calling. A hanging shelf held a few books, all evidently used 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 as texts in the adjoining college. A table, much littered; a 
 wooden dressing stand, with a small mirror; and an old- 
 fashioned, hair-cloth trunk, bearing numerous foreign labels, 
 eked out the paucity of furnishings. 
 
 If the man prayed, there was only his reverent attitude to 
 indicate it, for no words escaped his lips. But the frequent 
 straining of his tense body, and the fierce clenching of his 
 thin hands, as he threw his arms out over the unopened bed, 
 were abundant evidence of a soul tugging violently at its 
 moorings. His was the attitude of one who has ceased to 
 inveigh against fate, who kneels dumbly before the cup of 
 Destiny, knowing that it must be drained. 
 
 With the break of day the bells awoke in the church towers 
 throughout the old city, and began to peal forth their noisy 
 reminder of the virility of the Holy Catholic faith. Then the 
 man raised his head, seemingly startled into awareness of his 
 material environment. For a few moments he listened con- 
 fusedly to the insistent clatter — ^but he made no sign of the 
 cross, nor did his head bend with the weight of a hollow Ave on 
 his bloodless lips while the clamoring muezzins filled the 
 warm, tropical, air with their jangling appeal. Rising with an 
 air of weary indifference, he slowly crossed the room and threw 
 wide the shutters of the solitary window, admitting a torrent of 
 sunlight. As he did this, the door of the cell softly opened, and 
 a young novitiate entered. 
 
 "With your permission. Padre," said the boy, bowing low. 
 "His Grace summons you to the Cathedral." 
 
 The man made a languid gesture of dismissal, and turned 
 from the lad to the rare view which greeted him through the 
 open window. The dusty road below was beginning to manifest 
 the city's awakening. Barefooted, brown-skinned women, 
 scantily clad in cheap calico gowns, were swinging along with 
 shallow baskets under their arms to the plaza for the day's 
 marketing. Some carried naked babes astride their hips; 
 some smoked long, slender cigars of their own rolling. Half- 
 clad children of all ages, mixtures of mestizo, Spaniard, and 
 Jamaican negro, trotted along beside them; and at intervals a 
 blustering cochero rattled around the corner in a rickety, 
 obsolete type of trap behind a brace of emaciated horses. 
 
 The lively gossip of the passing groups preluded the noisy 
 chaffering to follow their arrival at the market place. 
 
 "Caramba, little pig!" shrilled a buxom matron, snatching 
 her naked offspring away from a passing vehicle. "Think you 
 I have money to waste on Masses for your naughty soul?" 
 
 "Na, senora," bantered another, "it will cost less now than 
 later to get him out of purgatory." 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "But, comadre, do you stop at the Cathedral to say a Pater- 
 noster?" 
 
 "To be sure, amiga, and an Ave, too. And let us return by 
 ■way of the Hotel Espana, for, quien sabe? we may catch a 
 glimpse of the famous matador." 
 
 ''SenoT Varilla?" 
 
 "Yes. He arrived from Barranquilla last night — so my 
 Pedro tells me — and will fight in the arena this Sunday. I have 
 saved fifty pesos to see him. Madre de DiosI but I would sell 
 my soul to see him slay but a single bull. And do you go?" 
 
 "God willing!" 
 
 The soft air, tempered by the languid ocean breeze, bore 
 aloft the laughter and friendly bantering of the marketers, 
 mingled with the awakening street sounds and the morning 
 greetings which issued from opening doors and windows. The 
 scent of roses and the heavier sweetness of orchids and tropical 
 blooms drifted over the ancient city from its innumerable 
 patios and public gardens. The age-incrusted buildings fused 
 in the mounting sun into squares of dazzling white, over which 
 the tiled roofs flowed in cinctures of crimson. Far off at sea 
 the smoke of an approaching vessel wove fantastic designs 
 against the tinted sky. Behind the city the convent of Santa 
 Candelaria, crowning the hill of La Popa, glowed like a dia- 
 mond; and stretching far to the south, and merging at the foot 
 of the Cordilleras into the gloom-shrouded, menacing jungle, 
 the steaming llanos offered fleeting glimpses of their rich 
 emerald color as the morning breeze stirred the heavy clouds 
 of vapor which hung sullenly above them. 
 
 To all this the man, looking vacantly out across the city 
 walls to where the sea birds dipped on the rippling waves, was 
 apparently oblivious. Nor did he manifest the slightest interest 
 in the animated scene before him until a tall, heavy-set young 
 priest emerged from the entrance of the dormitory below and 
 stopped for a moment in the middle of the road to bask in the 
 brilliant sunlight and fill his lungs with the invigorating ocean 
 breeze. Turning his eyes suddenly upward, the latter caught 
 sight of the man at the window. 
 
 "Ah, amigo Jose!" he called in friendly greeting, his hand- 
 some face aglow with a cordial smile. "Our good Saint Claver 
 has not lobbied for us in vain! We shall yet have a good day 
 for the bulls, no?" 
 
 "An excellent one, I think, Wenceslas," quickly replied the 
 man addressed, who then turned abruptly away as if he wished 
 to avoid further conversation. The priest below regarded the 
 empty window for a moment. Then, with a short, dry laugh 
 and a cynical shrug of his broad shoulders, he passed on. 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 As the man above turned back into the room his face, wear- 
 ing the look of one far gone in despair, was contorted with 
 passion. Fear, confusion, and undefined soul-longing seemed to 
 move rapidly across it, each leaving its momentary impression, 
 and all mingling at times in a surging flood that swelled the 
 veins of his temples to the point of rupture. Mechanically he 
 paced his narrow cell, throwing frequent furtive glances at the 
 closed door, as if he suspected himself watched. Often he 
 stopped abruptly, and with head bowed and brows furrowed, 
 seemed to surrender his soul to the forces with which it was 
 wrestling. Often he clasped his head wildly in his hands and 
 turned his beseeching eyes upward, as if he would call upon an 
 invisible power above to aid him, yet restrained by the deaden- 
 ing conviction of experience that such appeal would meet with 
 no response, and that he must stand in his own strength, how- 
 ever feeble. 
 
 Hours passed thus. The sun gained the zenith and the 
 streets were ablaze. Belated marketers, with laden baskets atop 
 their heads, were hurrying homeward, hugging the scanty shade 
 of the glaring buildings. Shopkeepers were drawing their shut- 
 ters and closing their heavy doors, leaving the hot noon hour 
 asleep on the scorching portals. The midday Angelus called 
 from the Cathedral tower. Then, as if shaken into remem- 
 brance of the message which the boy had brought him at day- 
 break, the man hurriedly took his black felt hat from the table, 
 and without further preparation left the room. 
 
 The stone pavements and narrow brick walks, above which 
 the intense heat hung in tremulous waves, were almost deserted 
 as he hastened toward the Cathedral. The business of the 
 morning was finished; trade was suspended until the sun, now 
 dropping its fiery shafts straight as plummets, should have 
 sunk behind La Popa. As he turned into the Calle Lozano an 
 elderly woman, descending the winding brick stairway visible 
 through the open door of one of the numerous old colonial 
 houses in the lower end of this thoroughfare, called timidly to 
 him. 
 
 "Marcelena," the priest returned, stopping. "The girl — is 
 she—?" 
 
 "She is dying," interrupted the woman in a voice broken 
 with sobs. 
 
 "Dying! Then the child—?" 
 
 "Yes, Padre, born an hour ago — a boy. It lives. Ah, Santa 
 Virgen, such suffering! Pray for us. Mother of God!" mur- 
 mured the weeping woman, bending her head and repeatedly 
 making the sign of the cross. 
 
 "Who is with her now?" the priest continued hurriedly. 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "Only Catalina. The doctor said he would return. He is 
 good to the blessed child. And Padre Lorenzo came — ^but he 
 would not shrive her little white soul — " 
 
 "And the father—?" 
 
 "He does not know," the woman sobbed. "Who would dare 
 to tell him! Think you he would come? That he would own 
 the babe? He would not give one blessed candle to set beside 
 the little mother's poor sweet body! Ah, Santa Maria! who will 
 buy Masses for her little soul? Who — ?" 
 
 "But he shall know!" cried the priest, his face livid. "And 
 he shall acknowledge his child and care for it! Qios — .' But 
 wait, Marcelena. I can do nothing now. But I will return." 
 Leaving the woman sobbing prayers to the Virgin Mother, the 
 priest hurried on. 
 
 Within the Cathedral the cool atmosphere met him with a 
 sweet calm, which flowed over his perturbed soul like a bene- 
 diction. He drew a chair from a pile in a corner and sat down 
 for a moment near one of the little side chapels, to recover from 
 the stifling heat without and prepare his thought for the im- 
 pending interview with the Bishop. A dim twilight enveloped 
 the interior of the building, affording a grateful relief from the 
 blinding glare of the streets. It brought him a transient sense 
 of peace — the peace which his wearied soul had never fully 
 known. Peace brooded over the great nave, and hovered in the 
 soft air that drifted slowly through the deserted aisle up to the 
 High Altar, where lay the Sacred Host. A few votive candles 
 were struggling to send their feeble glow through the darkness. 
 The great images of the suffering Christ, of the Saints and the 
 Virgin Mother had merged their outlines into the heavy shadows 
 which lay upon them. 
 
 The haunting memory of years of soul-struggle with doubt 
 and fear, of passionate longing for the light of truth in the 
 gloom of superstition and man-made creeds, for guidance 
 among the devious paths of human conjecture which lead 
 nowhither — or to madness — seemed to fade into the darkness 
 which wrapped him in that holy calm. After all, what had he 
 won in his lifelong warfare with human beliefs? What had he 
 gained by his mad opposition to Holy Church? There she stood, 
 calm, majestic, undisturbed. Had not the Christ himself de- 
 clared that the gates of hell should not prevail against her? 
 Was not the unfoldment of truth a matter, not of years, but of 
 ages? And were the minds of men to-day prepared for higher 
 verities than those she offered? Did not the Church plant the 
 seed as rapidly as the barren soil of the human mind was tilled 
 and made fallow? True, her sons, whom he had so obstinately 
 opposed, were blindly zealous. But were fhey wholly without 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 wisdom? Had not his own zeal been as unreasoningly directed 
 to the forcing of events? And still, through it all, she had held 
 her indulgent arms extended to him, as to all erring mankind. 
 Why not now, like a tired child, weary of futile resistance, yield 
 to her motherly embrace and be at last at peace? Again the 
 temptation which he had stubbornly resisted for a lifetime 
 urged upon him with all its mesmeric insistence. 
 
 He looked up, and his glance fell upon a small, glass- 
 covered case, dimly visible in the uncertain light at one side of 
 the little altar. The case was filled with tiny images of gold — 
 milagros. Each had received priestly blessing, and each was 
 believed to have worked a miraculous cure. The relaxed lines 
 of the priest's careworn face instantly drew into an expression 
 of hard austerity. Like the ebb of the ocean, his recalcitrant 
 thought surged back again in a towering flood. 
 
 "What a spectacle!" he murmured. "Holy Church, assum- 
 ing spiritual leadership of the world, sunken in idolatry, and 
 publicly parading her fetishism in these lingering echoes of 
 primitive demon-worship!" 
 
 Ah, the Master taught the omnipotence of God, whose ways 
 he declared as high above the blind grovelings of man as the 
 dome of heaven swings above earth. But how long, gentle 
 Master, shall such as this be declared thy Father's ways? How 
 long shall superstition and idolatry retain the power to fetter 
 the souls of men? Is there no end to the black curse of igno- 
 rance of Truth, which, after untold centuries^ still makes men 
 sink with vain toil and consume with disease? And — are those 
 who sit about Peter's gorgeous tomb and approve these things 
 unerring guides to a right knowledge of God, to know whom, 
 the Christ has said, is life eternal? 
 
 A step behind him broke the flow of his dark revery. 
 
 "Our good Jos6 dreams below, while His Grace bites his 
 nails above," said a soft, mellifluous voice. "Qu^ chistet It is — " 
 
 The priest sprang to his feet and faced the speaker. For a 
 moment the men regarded each other, the one uncertain as to 
 the impending event, but supremely confident of his ability to 
 meet it; the other sick in soul and torn with mental struggle, 
 but for the moment fired anew with the righteous wrath which 
 his recent brief interview with the woman, Marcelena, had 
 kindled. 
 
 "Wenceslas — " The priest spoke in a strained, uncertain 
 tone, striving to hold his emotions in leash. "I have learned 
 to-day — The girl, Maria — " 
 
 "Caro amigo," interrupted Wenceslas smoothly, "what you 
 have learned to-day, or any other day, of the girl, Maria, is a 
 lie," 
 
 8 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Hombre!" The priest turned livid. Stepping closer to 
 Wenceslasr — 
 
 "Do you think, inhuman! that I have not long known of 
 your relations with this girl? Who has not! And, further, I 
 know — and Cartagena shall know — tjjat to-day she lies dving 
 beside your child!" 
 
 Wenceslas recoiled. His face flushed, and the veins of his 
 forehead swelled with a purple flood. Then a pallor spread 
 over his features, and beads of perspiration started from his 
 pores. 
 
 It was but momentary. Recovering himself, he laid a -large 
 hand on the priest's shoulder, and, his face assuming its wonted 
 smile,, said in his usual low tone, "Amigo, it seems that you 
 have a penchant for spreading gossip. Think you I am ignorant 
 of the fact that because of it Rome spewed you out for a med- 
 dlesome pest? Do you deceive yourself that" Cartagena will 
 open her ears to your garbled reports? The hag, Marcelena, 
 lies! She has long hoped to gain some advantage from me, I 
 have told you — But go now above and learn from His Grace, 
 whom you have had the impudence to keep waiting all morn- 
 ing, how tongues that wag too freely can be silenced." He 
 checked himself suddenly, as if he feared he had said too much. 
 Then, turning on his heel, he quickly left the Cathedral. 
 
 The priest's head sank upon his breast, and he stood, infirm 
 of purpose and choking with words which he could not voice. 
 The whirl in which his confused brain had revolved for months 
 — nay, years — had made the determination of conduct with 
 him a matter of hours, of days, of weeks. Spontaneity of action 
 had long since ceased within his fettered mind, where doubt 
 had laid its detaining hand upon his judgment. Uncertainty, of 
 his steps, fear of their consequence, and dread lest he precipi- 
 tate the calamity which he felt hung always just above him, 
 had sapped the courage and strength of will which his soul 
 needed for a determined stand, and left him incapable of deci- 
 sive action, even in the face of grossest evil. The mordant 
 reply of Wenceslas only strengthened his conviction of the 
 futility of massing his own feeble forces against those of one 
 so thoroughly entrenched as this man, who had the ear of the 
 Bishop — nay, whose resourceful mind was now said to be ac- 
 tually directing the policies of the feeble old ecclesiastic who 
 held the bishopric of Cartagena. 
 
 As if groping through the blackness of midnight, he moved 
 slowly down the deserted nave of the Cathedral and mounted 
 the winding stairs to the ambulatory above. Pausing at the 
 door of the sanctum for a moment to gather up his remnant of 
 moral strength, he entered and stood hesitant before the wait-^ 
 ing Bishop. 
 
 9 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 2 
 
 THE long War of Independence -which destroyed the last ves- 
 tige of Spanish control over the Peruvian colonies of 
 South America was virtually brought to a close by the 
 terrific battle of Ayacucho, fought on the plains between Pizar- 
 ro's city of Lima and the ancient Inca seat of Cuzco in the fall 
 of 1824. The result of this battle had been eagerly awaited in 
 the city of Cartagena, capital of the newly formed federation of 
 Colombia. It was known there that the Royalist army was 
 concentrating for a final stand. It was known, too, that its 
 veterans greatly outnumbered the nondescript band of patriots, 
 many of whom were provided only with the arma blanca, the 
 ■indispensable machete of tropical America. This fact lent a 
 shred of encouragement to the few proud Tory families still 
 remaining in the city and clinging forlornly to their broken 
 fortunes, while vainly hoping for a reestablishment of the 
 imperial regimen, as they pinned their fate to this last desperate 
 conflict. Among these, none had been prouder, none more loyal 
 to the Spanish Sovereign, and none more liberal in dispensing 
 its great wealth to bolster up a hopeless cause than the ancient 
 and aristocratic family at whose head stood Don Ignacio Jose 
 Marquez de Rinc6n, distinguished member of the Cabildo, and 
 most loyal subject of his imperial majesty, King Ferdinand 
 VII. of Spain. 
 
 The house of Rincon traced its lineage back to the ferocious 
 adventurer, Juan de Rincon, favorite lieutenant of the renowned 
 Conquistador, Pedro de Heredia. When the latter, in the year 
 1533, obtained from Charles V. the concession of New Andalu- 
 sia, the whole territory comprised between the mouths of the 
 Magdalena and Atrato rivers in what is now the Republic of Co- 
 lombia, and undertook the conquest of this enormously rich dis- 
 trict, the fire-eating Juan, whom the chroniclers of that ro- 
 mantic period quaintly described as "causing the same effects 
 as lightning and quicksilver," was his most dependable support. 
 Together they landed at the Indian village of Calamari, and, 
 after putting the pacific inhabitants to the sword — a manner of 
 disposal most satisfactory to the practical Juan — laid the foun- 
 dations of the present city of Cartagena, later destined to be- 
 come the "Queen of the Indies," the pride, as it was the despair, 
 of the haughty monarchs of Spain. 
 
 For his eminent services in this exploit Juan received a 
 large tract of land in the most fertile part of the Magdalena 
 valley — which he immediately staked and lost at the gaming- 
 
 10 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 table. As a measure of consolation, and doubtless with the view 
 of checking Juan's gambling propensities, Pedro de Heredia 
 then bestowed upon him a strip of bleak and unexplored moun- 
 tain country adjacent to the river Atrato. Stung by his sense 
 of loss, as well as by the taunts of his boisterous companions, 
 and harassed by the practical conclusion that life's brevity 
 would not permit of wiping out their innumerable insults 
 singly by the sword, the raging Juan gathered together a few 
 blood-drinking companions of that ilk and set out to find diver- 
 sion of mind on his possessions. 
 
 Years passed. One day Juan again appeared on the streets 
 of Cartagena, and this time with gold enough to buy the city. 
 The discovery of rich auriferous sands on his estates adjoining 
 the Atrato, which were worked extensively for him by the 
 natives whom he and his companions had forced into subjec- 
 tion, had yielded him enormous wealth. He settled in Carta- 
 gena, determined to make it his future home, and at once set 
 about buying great blocks of houses and erecting a palace 
 for himself. He began to acquire lands and mines in all 
 directions. He erected a sumptuous summer residence in what 
 is now the suburb of Turbaco. He built an arena, and bred 
 bulls for it from famous stock which he imported from the 
 mother-country. He gave fetes and public entertainments on 
 the most lavish scale imaginable. In short, he quickly became 
 Cartagena's most influential and distinguished citizen, as he 
 was easily her richest. 
 
 But far more important to mention than all these dry 
 details was the undoubted change of character which had 
 come over the man himself. Perhaps it was the awful heat 
 of the steaming Atrato valley that drew the fire from his livid 
 soul. Perhaps it was a dawning appreciation off the opportu- 
 nities made possible by his rapid acquisition of wealth that 
 had softened his character. Some said he had seen a vision 
 of the Virgin Mary. Others laid it to a terrible fever, in 
 which for days he had lain delirious in the shadow of death. 
 Be that as it may, the bloodthirsty Conquistador, who a few 
 years before angrily shook the dust of Cartagena from his 
 feet, had now returned a changed man. 
 
 At once Juan began to manifest in an ever increasing 
 degree an interest in matters religious. In this respect his 
 former character suffered a complete reversal. He assidu- 
 ously cultivated the clergy, and gave large sums for the 
 support of the Cathedral and the religious orders of the city. 
 The Bishop became a frequent guest at his sumptuous table; 
 and as often he in turn sought the Bishop for consultation 
 anent his benefactions and, in particular, for consolation when 
 
 11 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 haunted by sad memories of his devilish exploits in early 
 life. When the great-hearted Padre Bartolome de las Casas, 
 infirm but still indefatigable in his work for the protection and 
 uplift of the Indians, arrived one memorable day in his little 
 canoe which his devoted native servants had paddled through 
 the diqiie from the great river beyond^ Jtlan was the first to 
 greet him and insist that he make his home with him while 
 in the city. And on the night of the Padre's arrival it is said 
 that Juan, with tears streaming down his scarred and wrinkled 
 face, begged to be allowed to confess to him the awful atroc- 
 ities which he had committed upon the innocent and harmless 
 aborigines when, as was his wont, his breath hot with the 
 lust of blood, he had fallen upon them without provocation 
 and hewed them limb from limb. 
 
 In his old age the now gentle Juan, his former self almost 
 obliterated, expressed a desire to renounce the world, bestow 
 his great wealth upon the Church, and enter a monastery to 
 pass his remaining years. Despite the protestations of his 
 numerous family, for whom his religious zeal would permit 
 him to leave but scanty provision, he was already formulating 
 plans toward this end when death overtook him, and his vast 
 estates descended intact to the family which he had founded. 
 
 So complete had been the transformation of Juan de Rihcon 
 during the many years that he lived after his return to Carta- 
 gena that the characteristics which he transmitted to his 
 posterity were, in general, quite the reverse of those which he 
 himself had manifested so abundantly in early life. Whereas, 
 he had formerly been atrociously cruel, boastingly impious^ 
 and a scoffer at matters religious, his later descendants were 
 generally tender of heart, soft of manner, and of great piety. 
 Whereas, in early manhood he had been fiery and impulsive, 
 quick of decision and immovable of opinion, his progeny were 
 increasingly inclined to be deliberate in judgment and vacil- 
 lating of purpose. So many of his descendants entered the 
 priesthood that the family was threatened with extinction, for 
 in the course of time it had biecome a sacred custom in the 
 Rincon family to consecrate the first-born son to the Church. 
 This custom at length became fixed, and was rigidly observed, 
 even to the point of bigotry, despite the obliteration of those 
 branches where there was but a single son. 
 
 The family, so auspiciously launched, waxed increasingly 
 rich and influential; and when the smoldering fires of revolu- 
 tion burst into flame among the oppressed South American 
 colonies, late in the year 1812, the house of Rincon, under 
 royal and papal patronage, was found occupying the first 
 position of eminence and prestige in the proud old city of 
 
 12 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Cartagena. Its wealth had become proverbial. Its sons, edu- 
 cated by preceptors brought from Paris and Madrid, were 
 prominent at home and abroad. Its honor was unimpeachable. 
 Its fair name was one of the most resplendent jewels in 
 the Spanish crown. And Don Ignacio epitomized loyalty to 
 Sovereign and Pope. 
 
 With the inauguration of hostilities no fears were felt by 
 the Rinc6n family for the ultimate success of the royalist 
 arms, and Don Ignacio immediately despatched word to his 
 Sovereign in Madrid that the wealth and services of his house 
 were at the royal disposal. Of this offer Ferdinand quickly 
 availed himself. The Rincon funds were drawn upon imme- 
 diately and without stint to furnish men and muniments for 
 the long and disastrous struggle. Of the family -resources 
 there was no lack while its members held their vast possessions 
 of lands and mines. But when, after the first successes of the 
 patriots, reprisals began to be visited upon the Tories of 
 Cartagena, and their possessions fell, one after another, into 
 the hands of the successful revolutionists, or were seized by 
 former slaves, Don Ignacio found it diiflcult to meet his royal 
 master's demands. The fickle King, already childish to the 
 verge of imbecility, gave scant thanks in return for the Rincon 
 loyalty, and when at last, stripped of his fortune, deserted by 
 all but the few Tory families who had the courage to remain 
 in Cartagena until the close of the war, Don Ignacio received 
 with sinking heart the news of the battle of Ayacucho, he knew 
 full well that any future appeal to Ferdinand for recognition 
 of his great sacrifices would fall upon unhearing ears. 
 
 But to remain in republican Cartagena after the final suc- 
 cess of the revolutionists was to the royalist Don Ignacio quite 
 impossible. Even if permitted the attempt, he was so attached 
 to the ancient order of things that he could not adjust himself 
 to the radically changed conditions. So, gathering about him 
 the sorrowing remnant of his family, and converting into a 
 pitifully small sum his few remaining possessions, he took 
 passage on an English trader and sailed for the mother- 
 country, to begin life anew among those whose speech and 
 customs were most familiar to him. 
 
 He settled in Seville, where the elder of his two sons, 
 Rafael de Rincon, a lad of fifteen,'was studying for the priest- 
 hood, under the patronage of the Archbishop. There he estab- 
 lished himself in the wine business, associating with him his 
 second son, Carlos, only a year the junior of his brother. But, 
 broken in spirit as well as in fortune, he made little headway, 
 and two years later died pitiably in poverty and obscurity. 
 
 Through the influence of the Archbishop, the business, 
 
 13 ■ 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ■which Carlos was far too young and immature to conduct, was 
 absorbed by larger interests, and the young lad retained as 
 an employe. As the years passed the boy developed sufficient 
 commercial ability to enable him to retain his position and 
 to extract from it enough to provide for the needs of himself 
 and his dependents. He married, late in life, a woman whose 
 family had fled from Cartagena with his own and settled in 
 Seville. She was but a babe in arms at the time of the exodus, 
 and many years his junior. A year after the marriage a 
 child was born to them, a son. The babe's birth was premature, 
 following a fright which the mother received when attacked 
 by a beggar. But the child lived. And, according to the 
 honored family custom, which the father insisted on observing 
 as rigidly in Spain as it had been formerly in Cartagena, this 
 son, Jose Francisco Enrique de Rincon, was at birth conse- 
 crated to the service of God in the Holy Catholic Church. 
 
 CHAPTER 3 
 
 IF, as Thoreau said, "God is on the side of the most sensi- 
 tive," then He should have been very close to the timid, 
 irresolute lad in Seville, in whom the softer traits of char- 
 acter, so unexpectedly developed in the adventurous founder 
 of the Rincon family, now stood forth so prominently. Somber, 
 moody, and retiring; delicately sensitive and shrinking; acutely 
 honest, even to the point of morbidity; deeply religious and 
 passionately studious, with a consuming zeal for knowledge, 
 and an unsatisfied yearning for truth, the little Jose early in 
 life presented a strange medley of characteristics, which be- 
 spoke a need of the utmost care and wisdom on the part of 
 those who should have the directing of his career. Forced 
 into the world before his time, and strongly marked by his 
 mother's fear; afflicted with precarious health, and subjected 
 to long and desperate illnesses in childhood, his little soul 
 early took on a gloom and asceticism wholly unnatural to 
 youth. Fear was constantly instilled into his acutely receptive 
 mind by his solicitous, doting parents; and his life was thereby 
 stunted, warped, and starved. He was reared under the con- 
 stant reminder of the baleful effects of food, of air, of conduet, 
 of this and that invisible force inimical to health; and terror 
 and anxiety followed him like a ghost and turned about all 
 his boyish memories. Under these repressing influences his 
 mind could not but develop with a lack of stamina for self- 
 support. Hesitancy and vacillation became pronounced. In 
 
 ■ 14 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 time, the weight of any important decision gave him acute, 
 unendurable agony of mind. Called upon to decide for himself 
 a matter of import, his thought would become confused, his 
 brain torpid, and in tears and perplexity the tormented lad 
 would throw himself into the arms of his anxious parents 
 and beg to be told what course to pursue. 
 
 Thus his nature grew to depend upon something stronger 
 than itself to twine about. He sought it in his schoolmates; 
 but they misread him. The little acts which were due to his 
 keen sensitiveness or to his exaggerated reticence of disposition 
 were frequently interpreted by them as affronts, and he was 
 generally left out of their games, or avoided entirely. His 
 playmates consequently became fewer and more transient as 
 the years gained upon him, until at length, trodden upon, but 
 unable to turn, he withdrew his love from the world and 
 bestowed it all upon his anxious mother. She became his only 
 intimate, and from her alone he sought the affection for which 
 he yearned with an intensity that he could not express. Shun- 
 ning the boisterous, frolicking children at the close of the 
 school day, he would seek her, and, nestling at her side, her 
 hand clasped in his, would beg her to talk to him of the 
 things with which his childish thought was struggling. These 
 were many, but they revolved about a common center — religion. 
 
 The salient characteristics already mentioned were asso- 
 ciated with others, equally prominent, and no less influential 
 in the shaping of his subsequent career. With the develop- 
 ment of his deep, inward earnestness there had appeared 
 indications of latent powers of mind that were more than 
 ordinary^ These took the form of childish precocity in his 
 studies, clearness of spiritual, vision, and maturity in his con- 
 duct and mode of life. The' stunting of his physical nature 
 threw into greater prominence his exaggerated soul-qualities, 
 his tenderness, his morbid conscientiousness, and a profound 
 emotionalism which, at the sight of a great painting, or the 
 roll of the Cathedral organ, would flood his eyes and fill his 
 throat with sobs. When the reckless founder of the family 
 experienced a reversal of his own dark traits of soul, nearly 
 three centuries before, it was as if the pendulum had swung 
 too far in the opposite direction, and at the extreme point of 
 its arc had left the little Jose, with the sterner qualities of the 
 old Conquistador wholly neutralized by self-condemnation, 
 fear, infirmity of purpose, a high degree of intellectuality, and 
 a soul-permeating religious fervor. 
 
 At the mention of religion the timid lad at once became 
 passionate, engrossed — nay, obsessed. In his boyhood years, 
 before the pall of somber rfeticence had settled over him, he had 
 
 15 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 been impressed with the majesty of the Church and the 
 gorgeousness of her material fabric. The religious ideals taught 
 him by his good mother took deep root. But the day arrived 
 when the expansion of his intellect reached such a point as to 
 enable him to detect a flaw in her reasoning. It was but a 
 little rift, yet the sharp eidge of doubt slipped in. Alas ! from 
 that hour he ceased to drift with the current of popular theo- 
 logical belief; his frail bark turned, and launched out upon 
 the storm-tossed sea, where only the outstretched hand of 
 the Master, treading the heaving billows through the thick 
 gloom, saved it at length from destruction. 
 
 The hungry lad began to question his parents incessantly 
 regarding the things of the spirit. His teachers in the paro^ 
 chial school he plied with queries which they could not meet. 
 Day after day, while other boys of his tender age romped in 
 the street, he would steal into the great Cathedral and stand, 
 pathetically solitary, before the statues of the Christ and the 
 Virgin Mary, yearning over the problems with which his 
 childish thought was struggling, and the questions to which 
 no one could return satisfying replies. 
 
 Here again the boy seemed to manifest in exaggerated form 
 the reversed characteristics of the old Conquistador, But, 
 unlike that of the pious Juan, the mind of the little Jos6 was 
 not so simple as to permit it to accept without, remonstrance 
 the tenets of his family's faith. Blind acceptance of any teach- 
 ing, religious or secular, early became quite impossible to him. 
 This entailed many an hour of suffering to the lad, and brought 
 down upon his little -head severe punishments from his pre- 
 ceptors and parents. But in vain they admonished and threat- 
 ened. The child demanded proofs; and if proofs were not at 
 hand, his acceptance of the mooted teaching was but tentative, 
 generally only an outward yielding to his beloved mother's 
 inexorable insistence. Many the test papers he returned to his 
 teachers whereon he had written in answer to the questions 
 set, "I am taught to reply thus; but in my heart I do not believe 
 it." Vainly the teachers £kppealed to his parents, Futilely the 
 latter pleaded and punished. The placid receptiveness of the 
 Rincon mind, which for more than three hundred years had 
 normally performed its absorptive functions and imbibed the 
 doctrines of its accepted and established human authorities, 
 without a trace of the heresy of suspecting their genuineness, 
 had at last experienced a reversal. True, the boy had been 
 born in the early hours of nineteenth century doubt and re- 
 ligious skepticism. The so-called scientific spirit, buried for 
 ages beneath the ddbris of human conjecture, was painfully 
 emerging and preening its wings for flight. The "higher 
 
 16 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 criticism" was nascent, and ancient traditions were already 
 beginning to totter on the foundations which the Fathers had 
 set. But Spain, close wrapped in mediaeval dreams, had suf- 
 fered no taint of "modernism." The portals of her mind were 
 well guarded against the entrance of radical thought, and her 
 dreamers were yet lulled into lethargic adherence to outworn 
 beliefs and musty creeds by the mesmerism of priestly tradi- 
 tion. The peculiar cast of mind of the boy Jose was not the 
 product of influences from without, but was rather an exempli- 
 fication of the human mind's reversion to type, wherein the 
 narrow and bigoted mentality of many generations had ex- 
 panded once more into the breadth of scope and untrammeled 
 freedom of an ancient progenitor. 
 
 As the boy grew older his ability to absorb learning in- 
 creased astonishingly. His power of analysis, his keen percep- 
 tion and retentive memory soon advanced him beyond the 
 youths of his own age, and • forced him to seek outside the 
 pale of the schoolroom for the means to satisfy his hunger 
 for knowledge. He early began to haunt the bookstalls of 
 Seville, and day after day would stand for hours searching the 
 treasures which he found there, and mulling over books which 
 all too frequently were anathema to the orthodox. Often the 
 owner of one of these shops, who knew the lad's parents, and 
 whose interest had been stirred by his passion for reading, 
 would let him take one or more of the coveted volumes home 
 over night, for the slender family purse would not permit him 
 to purchase what his heart craved. Then came feasts for his 
 famished little sovil which often lasted until daybreak. 
 
 It happened one evening that, when he crept off to his little 
 room to peer into one of these borrowed treasures, his father 
 followed him. Pushing the chamber door softly open the 
 parent found the boy propped against his pillow in bed, ab- 
 sorbed in a much-thumbed volume which he was reading by 
 the pale light of the single candle. 
 
 "Is it thus that you deceive your poor parents?" the fond 
 father began, in a tone of mock severity. 
 
 The startled lad stifled a cry and hastily thrust the book 
 beneath his pillow. The father's interest now became genuine. 
 Leaning over the terrified boy he drew forth the volume. 
 
 "Voltaire!" 
 
 The doting father stood petrified. Voltaire, Antichrist, 
 Archfiend of impiety — and in the hands of his beloved son! 
 
 Sleep fled the little household that night. In his father's 
 arms, while the distressed mother hung over them, the boy 
 sobbed out his confession. He had not intended to deceive. 
 He had picked up this book in the stall without knowing its 
 
 17 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 nature. He had become so interested in what it said about 
 the Virgin Mary that he forgot all else. The shopkeeper had 
 found him reading it, and had laughed and winked at his clerk 
 when he bade the boy take it home for the night. The book 
 had fascinated him. He himself — did not his father know? — 
 had so often asked how the Virgin could be the mother of God, 
 and why men prayed to her. Yes, he knew it mocked their 
 faith — and the sacred Scriptures. He knew, too, that his father 
 would not approve of it. That was why he had tried to hide it 
 beneath his pillow. He had been wicked, desperately wicked, 
 to deceive his dear parents — But the book — It made him forget 
 — It said so many things that seemed to be true — And — and — 
 
 "Oh, padre mio, forgive me, forgive me! I want to know 
 the truth about God and the world !" The delicate frame of the 
 young lad shook in paroxysms of grief. 
 
 Alas! it was but the anguished soul-cry which has echoed 
 through the halls of space since time began. What a mockery 
 to meet it with empty creed and human dogma ! Alas ! what a 
 crime against innocence to stifle the hoijest questionings of a 
 budding mind with the musty cloak of undemonstrable beliefs. 
 
 "But, my son, have I not often told you? The Holy Church 
 gives us the truth," replied the father, frightened by the storm 
 which raged within the childish soul, yet more alarmed at 
 the turn which the mind of his cherished son was apparently 
 taking — his only son, dedicated to the service of God from the 
 cradle, and in whom the shattered hopes of this once proud 
 family were now centered. 
 
 "But this book laughs at us because we pray to a woman!" 
 sobbed the boy. 
 
 "True. But does not its author need the prayers of so pure 
 a woman as the Virgin? Do we not all need them? And is 
 it not likely that one so good as she would have great influence 
 with God — much greater than we ourselves, or even the best 
 of men, could have?" 
 
 "But how can she be the mother of God? The Bible does 
 not teach that!" 
 
 "How do you know that the Bible does not teach it, my 
 son?" 
 
 "I— I— have read— the Bible," faltered the lad. 
 
 "You have read the Bible!" cried the astonished father. 
 "And where have you done that, you wicked boy?" 
 
 "At the bookstore of Mariano," confessed the trembling 
 child, 
 
 "Madre de DiosI" burst from the father, as he started to 
 his feet. "Mariano is a wicked infidel! The Bishop shall hear 
 of this! Ah, well may the Holy Father in Rome grieve to see 
 
 18 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 his innocent babes led astray by these servants of hell! But, 
 my son," returning to the boy and clasping him again in his 
 arms, "it is not too late. The Virgin Mother has protected 
 you. You meant no harm. Satan covets your pure little soul 
 — But he shall not have it!" The father's tremulous voice 
 mounted high, "No, by the Saints in heaven, he shall not 
 have it!" 
 
 The boy's assurance slowly returned under the influence 
 of" his father's tender solicitude, even though he remained 
 dimly conscious of the rift widening little by little between his 
 parents' settled convictions and his own groping thought. 
 With -the assuaging of his grief came again those insistent 
 questions which throughout his life had tormented his peace 
 and driven him even to the doors of infidels in search of truth. 
 
 "Father," he began timidly, "why was I wicked to read 
 the Bible?" 
 
 "Because, my son, in doing so you yielded to the tempta- 
 tions of Satan. The Bible is a great and mysterious book, 
 written by God himself. He meant it to be explained to us by 
 the Holy Father, who is the head of the Church which the good 
 Saint Peter founded. We are not great enough nor good 
 enough to understand it. The Holy Father, who cares for 
 God's Church on earth, he is good enough, and he alone can 
 interpret it to us. Satan tries to do with all men just what he 
 did with you, my child. He seeks to make them read the Bible 
 so that he can confuse them and rob them of their faith. 
 Then when he gets possession of their souls he drags them 
 down with him to hell, where they are lost forever." 
 
 "And does the Holy Father really believe that Mary is the 
 mother of God?" persisted the boy, raising his tear-stained 
 face. 
 
 "Yes — is she not? The blessed Saviour said that he and 
 God were one. And, as Mary is the mother of Christ, she is 
 also the mother of God — is she not? Let us read what the 
 good Saint John Chrysostom says." He rose and went into 
 another room, returning in a few minutes with a little volume. 
 Taking the boy again on his knee, he continued, "The blessed 
 Saint tells us that the Virgin Mary was made the mother of 
 God in order that she might obtain salvation for many who, 
 on account of their wicked lives, could not be saved, because 
 they had so offended divine justice, but yet, by the help of 
 her sweet mercy and mighty intercession, might be cleansed 
 and rendered fit for heaven. My little son, you have always 
 been taught that Mary is heaven's Queen. And so she is ours, 
 and reigns in heaven for us. Jesus loves to have her close to 
 him, and he can never refuse her requests. He always grants 
 
 19 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 what she asks. And that is the reason why we pray to her. 
 She never forgets us — never!" 
 
 A troubled look crossed the boy's face. Then he began 
 anew. "Father dear, God made everything, did He not? The 
 Bible says that, anyway." 
 
 "Yes, child." 
 
 "Did He make Satan?" 
 
 The father hesitated. The child hurried on under the lash 
 of his holy inquisitiveness. "Father, how did evil come into 
 the world? Is God both good and bad? And how can a good 
 God punish us forever for sins committed here in only a few 
 short years?" 
 
 "Ah, queriditol" cried the harassed father, "Such ques- 
 tions should not have entered your little head for years to 
 come! Why can you not run and play as do other children? 
 Why are you not happy as they are? Why must you spend 
 your days thinking of things that are far too deep for you? 
 Can you not wait? Some day you shall know all. Some day, 
 when you have entered the service of God, perhaps you may 
 even learn these things from the Holy Father himself. Then 
 you will understand how the good God lets evil tempt us in 
 order that our faith in Him may be exercised and grow 
 strong — " 
 
 "And He lets Satan harm us purposely?" The boy's inno- 
 cent dark eyes looked up appealingly into his father's face. 
 
 "It is only for a short time, little son. And only those who 
 are never fit for heaven go down with Satan. But you are not 
 one of those," he hastily added, straining the boy to him. 
 "And the Masses which the good priests say for us will lift us 
 out of purgatory and into heaven, where the streets are pure 
 gold and the gates are pearl. And there we will all live to- 
 gether for — " 
 
 "Father," interrupted the boy, "I have thought of these 
 things for a long, long time. I do not believe them. And I do 
 not wish to become a priest." 
 
 The father fell silent. It was one of those tense moments 
 which every man experiences when he sees a withering frost 
 slowly gathering over the fondest hopes of a lifetime. The 
 family of Rincon, aristocratic, intensely loyal to Church and 
 State, had willingly laid itself upon the sacrificial altar in defer- 
 ence to its honored traditions. Custom had become law. Obe- 
 dience of son to parent and parent to Sovereign, spiritual or 
 temporal, had been the guiding star of the family's destinies. 
 To think was lawful; but to hold opinions at variance with 
 tradition was unspeakable heresy. Spontaneity of action was 
 commendable; but conduct not prescribed by King or Pope 
 
 20 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 was unpardonable crime. Loss of fortune, of worldly power 
 and prestige, were as nothing; deviation from the narrow path 
 trodden by the illustrious scions of the great Juan was every- 
 thing. That this lad, to whom had descended the undying 
 memories of a long line of glorious defenders of kingly and 
 papal power, should presume to shatter the sacred Rinc6n 
 traditions, was unbelievable. It was none other than the work 
 of Satan. The boy had fallen an innocent victim to the devil's 
 wiles. 
 
 But the house of Rincon had withstood the assaults of the 
 son of perdition for more than three centuries. It would not 
 yield now! The all-powerful Church of Rome stood behind it 
 — and the gates of hell could not prevail against her ! The 
 Church would save her own. Yes, the father silently argued, 
 through his brother's influence the case should be laid before 
 His Eminence, the Archbishop. And, if need be, the Holy 
 Father himself should be called upon to cast the devil out of 
 this tormented child. To argue with the boy now were futile, 
 even dangerous. The lad had grown up with full knowledge 
 of his parents' fond hopes for his future. He had never openly 
 opposed them, although at times the worried mother would 
 voice her fears to the father when her little son brought his 
 perplexing questions to her and failed to find satisfaction. 
 But until this night the father had felt no alarm. Indeed, he 
 had looked upon the child's inquisitiveness as but a logical 
 consequence of his precocity and unusual mental powers, in 
 which he himself felt a father's swelling pride. To his thought 
 it augured rapid promotion in the Church; it meant in time 
 a Cardinal's hat. Ah, what glorious possibilities! How the 
 prestige of the now sunken family would soar ! Happily he 
 had been aroused to an appreciation of the boy's really des- 
 perate state in time. The case should go before the Arch- 
 bishop to-morrow, and the Church should hear his call to 
 hasten to the rescue of this wandering lamb. 
 
 CHAPTER 4 
 
 SEVILLE is called the heart of Spain. In a deeper sense it 
 is her soul. Within it, extremes touch, but only to blend 
 into a harmonious unit which manifests the Spanish 
 temperament and character more truly there than in any other 
 part of the world. In its Andalusian atmosphere the religious 
 instinct of the Spaniard reaches its fullest embodiment. True, 
 its bull-fights are gory spectacles; but they are also gorgeous 
 
 21 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 and solemn ceremonies. Its ferias are tremendously worldly; 
 but they are none the less stupendous religious fetes. Its 
 picturesque Easter processions, when colossal images of the 
 Virgin are carried among bareheaded and kneeling crowds, 
 smack of paganism; but we cannot question the genuineness of 
 the religious fervor thus displayed. Its Cathedral touches the 
 arena; and its Archbishop washes the feet of its old men. Its 
 religion is still the living force which unites and levels, exalts 
 and debases. And its religion is Rome, 
 
 On the fragrant spring morning following the discovery of 
 the execrated Voltaire, the little Jose, tightly clutching his 
 father's hand, threaded the narrow Sierpes and crossed the 
 Prado de San Sebastian, once the Quemador, where the Holy 
 Inquisition was wont to purge heresy from human souls with 
 fire. The father shuddered, and his stern face grew dark, as 
 he thought of the revolting scenes once enacted in that place 
 in the name of ChAst; and he inwardly voiced a prayer of 
 gratitude that the Holy OfiBce had ceased to exist. Yet he knew 
 that, had he lived in that day, he would have handed his beloved 
 son over to that awful institution without demurral, rather 
 than see him develop those heretical views which were already 
 rising from the soil of his fertile, inquisitive mind. 
 
 The tinkling of a bell sounded down the street. Father and 
 son quickly doffed their hats and knelt on the pavement, while 
 a priest, mounted on a mule, rode swiftly past on his way to 
 the bedside of a dying communicant, the flickering lights and 
 jingling bell announcing the fact that he bore with him the 
 Sacred Host. 
 
 "Please God, you will do the same some- day, my son," 
 murmured the father. But the little Jose kept his eyes to the 
 pavement, and would make no reply. 
 
 Meanwhile, at a splendidly carved table in the library of 
 his palatial residence, surrounded by every luxury that wealth 
 and ecclesiastical influence could command, the Archbishop, 
 pious shepherd of a restless flock, sat with clouded brow and 
 heavy heart. The festive ceremonials of Easter were at hand, 
 and the Church was again preparing to display her chief 
 splendors. But on the preceding Easter disturbances had inter- 
 rupted the processions of the Virgin; and already rumors had 
 reached the ears of the Archbishop of further trouble to be 
 incited during the approaching Holy Week by the growing body 
 of skeptics and anticlericals. To what extent these liberals 
 had assumed the proportions of a propaganda, and how active 
 they would now show themselves, were questions causing the 
 holy man deep concern. Heavy sighs escaped him as he voiced 
 his fears to his sympathetic secretary and associate, Rafael de 
 Rinc6n, the gaunt, ascetic uncle of the little Jose. 
 
 22 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Alas!" he murmured gloomily. "Since the day that our 
 Isabella yielded to her heretic ministers and thrust aside the 
 good Sister Patrocinio, Spain has been in a perilous state. After 
 that unholy act the dethronement and exile of the Queen were 
 inevitable." 
 
 "True, Your Eminence," replied the secretary. "But is 
 there no cause for hope in the elevation of her son, Alfonso, to 
 the throne?" 
 
 "He is but seventeen — and absent from Spain six years. He 
 lacks the force of his talented mother. And there is no longer 
 a Sister Patrocinio to command the royal ear." 
 
 "Unfortunate, I admit. Your Eminence. She bore the 
 stigmata, the very marks of our Saviour's wounds, imprinted 
 on her flesh, and worked his miracles. But, in Alfonso — " 
 
 "No, no," interrupted the Archbishop impatiently; "he has 
 styled himself the first Republican in Europe. He will make 
 Catholicism the state religion; but he will extend religious tol- 
 eration to all. He is consumptive in mind as well as in body. 
 And the army — alas! what may we look for from it when 
 soldiers like this Polo Hernandez refuse to kneel during the 
 Mass?" 
 
 "The man has been arrested. Your Eminence," the secretary 
 offered in consolation. 
 
 "But the court-martial acquitted him!" 
 
 "True. Yet he has now been summoned before the supreme 
 court in Madrid." 
 
 The Archbishop's face brightened somewhat. "And the 
 result — what think you?" 
 
 The secretary shrugged his drooping shoulders. "They will 
 condemn him." 
 
 Yes, doubtless he would be condemned, for mediaevalism 
 dies hard in Spain. But the incident was portentous, and the 
 Archbishop and his keen secretary heard in it an ominous echo. 
 
 A servant appeared at the heavy portieres, and at a sign 
 from the secretary ushered Jose and his father into the august 
 presence awaiting them. 
 
 An hour later the pair emerged from the palace and started 
 homeward. His Eminence, rousing himself from the profound 
 revery in which he had been sunk for some moments, turned 
 to his expectant secretary. 
 
 "A Luther in embryo!" he ejaculated. 
 
 "I feared as much. Your Eminence," returned the austere 
 
 sccrctsirv* 
 
 "And yet, a remarkable intellect! Astonishing mental 
 power! But all tainted with the damnable so-called scientific 
 spirit!" 
 
 23 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "True, Your Eminence." 
 
 "But marked you not his deep reverence for God? And his 
 sturdy honesty? And how, despite his embarrassment, the 
 religious zeal of his soul shown forth?" 
 
 "He is morbidly honest. Your Grace." 
 
 "A trait I wish we might employ to our own advantage," 
 mused the churchman. Then, continuing, "He is learned far 
 beyond his years. Indeed, his questions put me to some stress 
 — but only for the difficulty of framing replies intelligible to a 
 mind so immature," he added hastily. "Either he feared my 
 presence, or he is naturally shrinking." 
 
 "He is so by nature. Your Eminence." 
 
 The Archbishop reflected. "Naive — pure — simple — mature, 
 yet childish. Have we covered the ground?" 
 
 "Not fully, Your Eminence. We omitted to mention his 
 absorbing filial devotion." 
 
 "True. And that, you tell me, is most pronounced." 
 
 "It is his strongest characteristic. Your Eminence. He has 
 no will to oppose it." 
 
 "Would that his devotion were for Holy Church!" sighed 
 the Archbishop. 
 
 "I think it may be so directed. Your Eminence," quickly 
 returned the secretary. 
 
 "But — would he ever consent to enter the priesthood? And 
 once in, would he not prove a most dangerous element?" 
 
 The secretary made a deprecating gesture. "If I may sug- 
 gest, such a man as he promises to become is far more danger- 
 ous outside of the Church than within, Your Eminence." 
 
 The Archbishop studied the man's face for a few moments. 
 "There is truth in your words, my friend. Yet how, think you, 
 may he be secured?" 
 
 "Your Eminence," replied the secretary warmly, "pardon 
 these suggestions in matters where you are far better fitted to 
 pass sound judgment than a humble servant of the Church like 
 myself. But in this case intimacy with my brother's family 
 affords me - data which may be serviceable in bringing this 
 matter to a conclusion. If I may be permitted — " 
 
 The Archbishop nodded an unctuous and patronizing appre- 
 ciation of his elderly secretary's position, and the latter con- 
 tinued — 
 
 "Your Eminence, Holy Week is approaching, and we are 
 beset with fears lest the spirit of heresy which, alas ! is abroad 
 in our fair city, shall manifest itself in such disturbances as 
 may force us to abandon these religious exercises in future. I 
 need not point out the serioUs nature of these demonstrations. 
 Nor need I suggest that their relative unimportance last year 
 
 24 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 ■was due solely to lack of strong leadership. Already our sol- 
 diers begin to refuse to kneel during the Mass. The Holy 
 Church is not yet called upon to display her weapons. But 
 who shall say to what measures she may not be forced when an 
 able and fearless leader shall arise among the heretics? To- 
 day there has stood before Your Eminence a lad possessing, 
 in my opinion, the latent qualifications for such leadership. 
 I say, latent. I use the term advisedly, for I know that he 
 appears to manifest the Rincon lack of decision. But so did I 
 at his age. And who can say when the unfolding of his other 
 powers, now so markedly indicated, may not force the develop- 
 ment of those certain traits of character in which he now 
 seems deficient, but which, developed, would make him a 
 power in the world? Shall the Church permit this promising 
 lad to stray from her, possibly later to join issue with her 
 enemies and use his great gifts to propagate heresy and assault 
 her foundations? Are we faithful to our beloved Mother if we 
 do not employ every means, foul or fair, to destroy her enemies, 
 even in the cradle? Remember, 'He who gains the youth, 
 possesses the future,' as the saying goes." 
 
 "Loyally spoken, faithful son," replied the Archbishop, 
 shifting into a more comfortable position. "And you sug- 
 gest—?" 
 
 "This: that we wisely avail ourselves of his salient charac- 
 teristics — his weaknesses, if you wish — and secure him now 
 to the Church." 
 
 "And, more specifically — ?" with increasing animation. 
 
 "Your Eminence is already aware of the custom in our 
 family of consecrating the first-born son to the service of God. 
 This boy has been so consecrated from birth. It is the dearest 
 hope of his parents. At present their wishes are still his law. 
 Their judgments yet formulate his conduct. His sense of honor 
 is acute. Your Eminence can see that his word is sacred. 
 His oath once taken would bind him eternally. // is for us to 
 secure that oath!" 
 
 "And how?" The Archbishop leaned forward eagerly. 
 
 "We, cooperating with his parents, will cater to his con- 
 suming passion for learning, and offer him the education which 
 the limited resources of his family cannot provide. We save 
 him from the drudgery of commercialism, and open to him the 
 life of the scholar. We suggest to him a career consecrated 
 to study and holy service. The Church educates him— ^he 
 serves his fellow-men through her. Once ordained, his char- 
 acter is such, I believe, that he could never become an apostate. 
 And, whatever his services to Holy Church may be there- 
 after, she at least will have effectually disposed of a possible op- 
 
 25 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ponent. She has all to gain, and nothing to lose by such pro- 
 cedure. Unless I greatly mistake the Rincon character, the lad 
 will yield to our inducements and his mother's prayers, the 
 charm of the Church and the bias of her tutelage, and ulti' 
 mately take the oath of ordination. After that — " 
 
 "My faithful adviser," interrupted the Archbishop genially, 
 as visions of the Cardinal's hat for eminent services hovered 
 before him, "write immediately to Monsignor, Rector of the 
 Seminario, in Rome. Say that he must at once receive, at our 
 expense and on our recommendation, a lad of twelve, who 
 greatly desires to be trained for the priesthood." 
 
 CHAPTER 5 
 
 THUS did the Church open her arms to receive her wander- 
 ing child. Thus did her infallible wisdom, as expressed 
 through her zealous agents in Seville, essay to solve the 
 perplexing problems of this agitated little mind, and whisper 
 to its confused throbbing, "Peace, be still." The' final disposi- 
 tion came to the boy not without some measure of relief, despite 
 his protest. The long days of argument and pleading, of assur- 
 ance that within the Church he should find abundant and 
 satisfactory answers to his questions, and of explanations which 
 he was adjured to receive on faith until such time as he might 
 be able to prove their soundness, had utterly exhausted his 
 sensitive little soul, and left him without the combative energy 
 or will for further remonstrance. 
 
 Nor was the conflict solely a matching of his convictions 
 against the desires of his parents and the persuasions of the 
 Archbishop and his loyal secretary. The boy's hunger for 
 learning alone might have caused him to yield to the lure of a 
 broad education. Moreover, his nature contained not one ele- 
 ment of commercialism. The impossibility of entering the wine 
 business with his father, or of spending his life in physical 
 toil for a bare maintenance, was as patent to himself, even at 
 that early age, as to his parents; His bent was wholly intel- 
 lectual. But he knew that his father could not afford him an 
 education. Yet this the Church now offered freely. Again, 
 his nature was essentially religious. The Church now ex- 
 tended all her learning, all her vast resources, all her spiritual 
 power, to develop and foster this instinct. Nay, more, to pro- 
 tect and guide its development into right channels. 
 
 The fact, too, that the little Jose was a child of extreme 
 emotions must not be overlooked in an estimate of the influ- 
 
 26 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ences which bore upon him during these trying days. His 
 devotion to an object upon which he had set his affections 
 amounted to obsession. He adored his parents — reverenced his 
 father — worshiped his mother. The latter he was wont to 
 compare to the flowers, to the bright-plumed birds, to the 
 biitterflies that hovered in the sunlight of their little patio. He 
 indited childish poems to her, and likened her in purity and 
 beauty to the angels and the Virgin Mary. Her slightest wish 
 was his inflexible law. Not that he was never guilty of childish 
 faults of conduct, of little whims of stubbornness and petU'- 
 lance; but his character rested on a foundation of honesty, 
 sincerity, and filial love that was never shaken by the summer 
 storms of naughtiness which at times made their little dis- 
 turbances above. 
 
 The parents breathed a sigh of relief when the tired child 
 at last bowed to their wishes and accepted the destiny thrust 
 upon him. The coming of a son to these loyal royalists and 
 zealous Catholics had meant the imposition of a sacred trust. 
 That he was called to high service in the Church of God was 
 evidenced by Satan's early and malicious attacks upon him. 
 There was but one course for them to pursue, and they did not 
 for a moment question its soundness. To their thought, this 
 precocious child lacked the wisdom and balance which comes 
 only with years. The infallible Church, their all-wise spiritual 
 guide, supported their contentions. What they did was for 
 her and for the eternal welfare of the boy. Likewise, for the 
 maintenance of family pride and honor in a generation tainted 
 with liberalism and distrust of the sacred traditions. 
 
 The Church, on the other hand, in the august person of the 
 Archbishop, had accomplished a triumph. She had recognized 
 the child's unusual gifts of mind, and had been alert to the 
 dangers they threatened. If secured to herself, and their de- 
 velopment carefully directed, they would mold him into her 
 future champion. If, despite her careful weeding and pru-ning, 
 they expanded beyond the limits which she set, they should be 
 stifled! The peculiar and complex nature of the child offered 
 her a tremendous advantage. For, if reactionary, his own 
 highly developed sense of honor, together with his filial devo- 
 tion and his intense family pride, should of themselves be 
 forced to choke all activity in the direction of apostasy and 
 liberalism. Heaven knew, the Church could not afford to 
 neglect any action which promised to secure for her a loyal 
 son; or, failing that, at least effectually check in its incipiency 
 the development of a threatened opponent! Truly, as the 
 astute secretary had said, this boy might prove troublesome 
 within the fold; but he might also prove more dangerous with- 
 
 27 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 out. Verily, it was a triumph for the cause of righteousness! 
 And after the final disposition, the good Archbishop had sat 
 far into the night in the comfort of his sanctum, drowsing 
 over his pleasant meditations on the rewards which his un- 
 flagging devotion to the cause of Holy Church was sure some 
 day to bring. 
 
 Time sped. The fragrant Sevillian spring melted into sum- 
 mer, and summer merged with fall. The Rincon family was 
 adjusting itself to the turn in the career of its heir, the guar- 
 dian and depository of its revived "hopes. During the weeks 
 which intervened between his first interview with the Arch- 
 bishop and his final departure for Rome, Jose had been carefully 
 prepared by his uncle, who spared no effort to stimulate in the 
 boy a proper appreciation of his high calling. He was taught 
 that as a priest of" the Holy Catholic Church he would become 
 a representative of the blessed Christ among men. His mission 
 would be to carry on the Saviour's work for the salvation of 
 souls, and, with the power of Christ and in His name, to in- 
 struct mankind in true beliefs and righteous conduct. He 
 would forgive sins, impose penalties, and offer sacrificial atone- 
 ment in the body of the Saviour — in a word, he was to become 
 sacerdos alter Christus, another Christ. His training for this 
 exalted work would cover a period of six or eight years, per- 
 haps longer, and would fit him to become a power among men, 
 a conserver of the sacred faith, and an ensample of the highest 
 morality. 
 
 "Ah, sobrinito," the sharp-visaged, gray-haired uncle had 
 said, "truly a fortunate boy are you to hear this grandest of 
 opportunities knocking at your door! A priest — a God! Nay, 
 even more than God, for as priest God gives you power over 
 Himself!" 
 
 The boy's wondering eyes widened, and a look of mingled 
 confusion and • astonishment came into his wan face. "I do 
 not see, tio mio—I do not see," he murmured. 
 
 "But you shall, you shall! And you shall understand the 
 awful responsibility which God thus reposes upon you, when 
 He gives you power to do greater things than He did when He 
 created the world. You shall command the Christ, and He 
 shall come down at your bidding. Ah, chiquito, a fortunate 
 boy!" But the lad turned wearily away, without sharing his 
 uncle's enthusiasm. 
 
 The day before his departure Jos6 was again conducted be- 
 fore the Archbishop, and after listeaing to a lengthly resume 
 of what the Church was about to do for him, and what she 
 expected in return, two solemn vows were exacted from him — 
 
 "First," announced the uncle, in low, deliberate tones, "you 
 
 28 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 will solemnly promise your mother and your God that, daily 
 praying to be delivered from the baneful influences which now 
 cause doubt and questioning in your mind, and refraining from 
 voicing them to your teachers or fellow-students, you will strive 
 to accept all that is taught you in Rome, deferring every en- 
 deavor to prove the teachings you are to receive until the end 
 of your long course, when, by training and discipline, you 
 shall have so developed in goodness, purity, and power, that 
 you shall be found worthy to receive spiritual confirmation of 
 the great tenets upon which the Holy Roman Catholic Church 
 has been founded and reared." 
 
 He paused for a moment to catch his breath and let his 
 portentous words sink into the quivering brain of the lad before 
 him. Then he resumed — 
 
 "Second, keeping ever in mind your debt of gratitude to the 
 Church, you promise faithfully to finish your course, and at 
 the end offer yourself to the service of God in the holy priest- 
 hood." 
 
 The solemn hush that lay over the room when he finished 
 was broken only by the muffled sobs of the mother. 
 
 Tender in years, plunged into grief at the impending separa- 
 tion from home and all that he held dear, the boy knelt before 
 the secretary and gave his trembling word to observe these 
 obligations. Then, after he had kissed the Bible and the Arch- 
 bishop's extended hand, he threw himself upon the floor in a 
 torrent of tears. 
 
 On the following morning, a bright, sparkling November 
 day, the little Jose, spent with emotion, tore himself from his 
 mother's clinging embrace and set out for Rome, accompanied 
 by his solicitous uncle. 
 
 "And, queridito," were the mother's last words, "I have 
 your promise that never will you voluntarily leave the Church?" 
 
 The appeal which his beseeching look carried back to her 
 was not granted. He slowly bowed his acquiescence, and 
 turned away. A week later he had entered upon the retreat 
 with which the school year opens in the Seminario. 
 
 CHAPTER 6 
 
 ROME, like a fallen gladiator, spent and prostrate on the 
 Alban hills, still awaits the issue of the conflict between 
 the forces of life and death within. Dead, where the 
 blight of pagan and mediaeval superstition has eaten into the 
 quivering tissues; it lives where the pulsing current of modern- 
 
 29 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ism expands its shrunken arteries and bears the nourishing 
 truth. Though eternal in tradition and colossal in material 
 achievement, the glory of the Imperial City nevertheless rests 
 on a foundation of perishable human ambitions, creeds, and 
 beliefs, manifested outwardly for a time in brilliant deeds, great 
 edifices, and comprehensive codes, but always bearing within 
 themselves the seeds of their own decay. No trophy brought 
 to her gates in triumph by the Caesars ever approached in 
 worth the simple truth with which Paul of Tarsus, chained to 
 his jailer, illumined his gloomy dungeon. Had the religious 
 principles which he' and his devoted associates labored so un- 
 selfishly to impart to a benighted world for its own good been 
 recognized by Rome as the "pearl without price," she would 
 have built upon them as foundation stones a truer glory, and 
 one which would have drawn the nations of the earth to 
 worship within her walls. But Rome, in her mastey, Constan- 
 tino, saw only the lure of a temporal advantage to be gained 
 by fettering the totally misunderstood teachings of Jesus with 
 the shackles of organized politics. From this unhallowed 
 marriage of religion and statecraft was born that institution, 
 unlike either parent, yet exhibiting modified characteristics oJ! 
 each, the Holy Church. To this institution, now mighty in 
 material riches and power, but still mediaeval in character, 
 despite the assaults of centuries of progress, a combination of 
 political maneuver, bigotry, and weakness committed the young 
 Jose, tender, sensitive, receptive, and pure, to be trained as an 
 agent to further its world-embracing policies. 
 
 The retreat upon which the boy at once entered on his 
 arrival at the seminary extended over ten days. During this 
 time there were periods of solitary meditation — hours when 
 his lonely heart cried out in anguish for his beloved mother — 
 visits to the blessed sacrament, recitations of the ofiice, and 
 consultations with his spiritual advisers, at which times his 
 promises to his parents and the Archbishop, coupled with his 
 natural reticence and the embarrassment occasioned by his 
 strange environment, sealed his lips and prevented the voicing 
 of his honest (questions and doubts. It was sought through 
 this retreat to so bring the lad under the influence of the great 
 religious teachings as to most deeply impress his heart and 
 mind with the importance of the seminary training upon which 
 he had entered. His day began with the dreaded meditation at 
 five in the morning, followed by hearing the Mass and receiving 
 Communion. It closed, after study and class work, with an- 
 other visit to the blessed sacrament, recital of the Rosary, 
 spiritual reading, and prayer. On Sundays he assisted at 
 solemn High Mass in the church of the Seminario Pio. One 
 
 30 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 day a week -was a holiday; but only in the sense that- it was 
 devoted to visiting hospitals and charitable institutions, in 
 order to acquire practical experience and a foretaste of his 
 future work among the sick and needy. Clad in his little violet 
 cassock, low-crowned, three-cornered hat, and soprano, he 
 might be seen on these holidays trotting along with his fellow- 
 students in the wake of their superior, his brow generally con- 
 tracted, and his childish face seldom lighted by a happy smile. 
 
 The first year passed without special incident. The boy, 
 filled with that quenchless ambition to know, which charac- 
 terizes the finest minds, entered eagerly upon his studies and 
 faithfully observed his promises. If his tender soul warped 
 and his fresh, receptive mind shriveled under the religious 
 tutelage he received, no one but himself knew it, not even his 
 fond mother, as she clasped him again in her arms when he 
 returned home for the first summer vacation. With the second 
 year there began studies of absorbing interest to the boy, and 
 the youthful mind fed hungrily. This seemed to have the effect 
 of expanding somewhat his self-contained little soul. He ap- 
 peared to grow out of himself to a certain extent, to become 
 less timid, less reticent, even more sociable; and when he 
 returned to Seville again at the close of the year he had ap- 
 parently lost much of the somberness of disposition which had 
 previously characterized him. The Archbishop examined 'him 
 closely; but the boy, speaking little, gave no hint of the. inner 
 working of his thought; and if his soul seethed and fermented 
 within,^ the Rincon pride and honor covered it with a placid 
 demeanor and a bearing of outward calm. When the interview 
 ended and the lad had departed, the Archbishop descended to 
 the indignity of roundly slapping his ascetic secretarj' on his 
 emaciated back, as an indication of triumphant joy^ The boy 
 certainly was being charmed into deep devotion to the Church .' 
 He was fast being bound to her altars! Again the glorious 
 spectacle of the Church triumphant in molding a wavering 
 youth into a devoted son! 
 
 Four years passed thus, almost in silence on the boy's part. 
 Yet his character suffered little change. At home he strove 
 to avoid all mention of the career upon which he was entering, 
 although he gave slight indication of dissatisfaction with it. 
 He was punctilious in his attendance upon religious services; 
 but to have been otherwise would have brought sorrow to his 
 proud, happy parents. His days were spent in complete ab- 
 sorption in his books, or in writing in his journal. The latter 
 he had begun shortly before entering the seminary, and it was 
 destined to exert a profound influence upon his life. Often 
 his parents would playfully urge him to read to them from it; 
 
 31 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 but the boy, devotedly obedient and filial in every other respect, 
 steadfastly begged permission to refuse these requests. In this 
 little whim the fond parents humored him, and he was left 
 largely alone to his books and his meditations: 
 
 During Jose's fourth summer vacation a heavy sorrow sud- 
 denly fell upon him and plunged him into such an excess of 
 grief that it was feared his mind would give way. His revered 
 father, advanced in years, and weakened by overwork and 
 business worries, succumbed to the malaria so prevalent in 
 Seville during the hot months and passed away, after a brief 
 illness. The blow descended with terrific force upon the mor- 
 bidly disposed lad. It was his first intimate experience with 
 death. For days after the solemn events of the mourning and 
 funeral he sat as one stunned, holding his mother's hand and 
 staring dumbly into space; or for hours paced to and fro in 
 the little patio, his face rigidly set and his eyes fixed vacantly 
 on the ground beneath. The work of four years in opening 
 his mind, in expanding his thought, in drawing him out of his 
 habitual reticence and developing within him the sense of 
 companionship and easy tolerance, was at one stroke rendered 
 null. Brought face to face with the grim destroyer, all the 
 doubt and confusion of former years broke the bounds which 
 had held them in abeyance and returned upon him with in- 
 crea-sed insistence. Never before had he felt so keenly the 
 impotence of mortal man and the futility of worldly strivings. 
 Never had he seen so clearly the fatal defects in the accepted 
 interpretation of Christ's mission on earth. His earlier ques- 
 tionings returned in violent protests against the emptiness of 
 the beliefs and formalities of the Church. In times past he 
 had voiced vague and dimly outlined perceptions of her spirit- 
 ual needs. But now to him these needs had suddenly taken 
 definite form. Jesus had healed the sick of all manner of 
 disease. He himself was being trained to represent the Christ 
 on earth. Would he, too, be taught to heal the sick as the 
 Master had done? The blessed Saviour said, "The works that 
 I dOj ye shall do also." But the priests, his representatives, 
 clearly were not doing the works of the Master. And if he 
 himself had been an ordained priest at the time of his father's 
 death, could he have saved him? No, he well knew that he 
 could not. And yet he would have been the Saviour's repre- 
 sentative among men. Alas! how poor a one he well knew. 
 
 In his stress of mind he sought his uncle, and by him was 
 again led before the Archbishop. His reticence and timidity 
 dispersed by his great sorrow, the distraught boy faced the high 
 ecclesiastic with questions terribly blunt. 
 
 ".Why, my Father, after four years in the Seminario, am I 
 
 32 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 not being taught to do the works which our blessed Saviour 
 did?" 
 
 The placid Archbishop stared at the boy in dumb astonish- 
 ment. Again, after years of peace that had promised quiescence 
 on these mooted points! Well, he must buckle on his armor 
 — if indeed he had not outgrown it quite — ^and prepare to with- 
 stand anew the assaults of the devil! 
 
 "H'm! — to be specific, my son — you mean — ?" The great 
 man was sparring. 
 
 "Why do we not heal the sick as he did?" the boy explained 
 tersely. 
 
 "Ah!" The peace-loving man of God breathed easier. How 
 simple! The devil was firing a cracked blunderbuss. 
 
 "My son," he advanced with paternal unction, "you have 
 been taught — or should have been, ere this — that the healing 
 miracles of our blessed Saviour belong to a dispensation long 
 past. They were special signs from God, given at the time of 
 establishing His Church on earth, to convince an incredulous 
 multitude. They are not needed now. We convince by logic 
 and reason and by historical witnesses to the deeds of the 
 Saints and our blessed Saviour." As he pronounced this sacred 
 name the holy man devoutly crossed himself. "Men would 
 believe no more readily to-day," he added easily, "even if they 
 should see miracles of healing, for they would attribute them 
 to the human mentality, to suggestion, hypnotism, hallucina- 
 tion, and the like. Even the mighty deeds of Christ were 
 attributed to Beelzebub." The complacent Father settled back 
 into his chair with an air of having disposed for all time of 
 the mooted subject of miracles. 
 
 "That begs the question, my Father!" returned the boy 
 quickly and excitedly. "And as I read church history it is 
 thus that the question has been begged ever since the first 
 century!" 
 
 "What!" The Archbishop was waxing hot. "Do you, a 
 mere child of sixteen, dare to dispute the claims of Holy 
 Church?" 
 
 "My Father," the boy spoke slowly and with awful earnest- 
 ness, "I have been four years in the Seminario. I do not find 
 the true Christ there; nor do I think I shall find him within 
 the Church," 
 
 "Sanctissima Maria!" The Archbishop bounded to his feet. 
 "Have you sold yourself td the devil?" he exploded. "Have 
 you fed these years at the warm breasts of the Holy Mother, 
 only to turn now and rend her? Have you become a Protester? 
 Apostate and forsworn!" 
 
 "My Father," the boy returned calmly, "did Jesus tell the 
 
 33 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 truth — or did he lie?- If he spoke truth, then I think he is not 
 in the Church to-day. She has wholly misunderstood him — or 
 else she — ^^she deliberately falsifies." 
 
 The Archbishop sank gasping into his chair. 
 
 Jose went on. "You call me apostate and forsworn. I 
 am neither. One cannot become apostate when he has never 
 believed. As to being forsworn — I am a Rincon!" 
 
 The erect head and flashing eyes of the youth drew an 
 involuntary exclamation of approval from the anxious secre- 
 tary, who had stood striving to evolve from his befuddled wits 
 some course adequate to the strained situation. 
 
 But the boy's proud bearing was only momentary. The 
 wonted look of troubled wistfulness again settled over his face, 
 and his shoulders bent to their accustomed stoop, as if his frail 
 body were slowly crushing beneath a tremendous burden. 
 
 "My Father," he continued sadly, "do not the Gospels show 
 that Jesus proved the truth of all he taught by doing the works 
 which we call miracles? But does the Church to-day by any 
 great works prove a single one of her teachings? You say 
 that Christianity no longer needs the healing of the sick iu 
 order to prove its claims. I answer that, if so, it likewise no 
 lojiger needs the preaching of the gospel, for I cannot find that 
 Jesus made any distinction between the two. Always he 
 coupled one with, the other. His command was ever, 'Preach 
 the gospel, heal the sick!' His works of healing were simply 
 signs which showed that he understood what he taught. They 
 were his proofs, and they followed naturally his great under- 
 standing of God. But what proofs do you offer when you ask 
 mankind to accept your preaching? Jesus said, 'He that be- 
 lieveth on me, the works that I do shall he do also.' If you 
 do not do the works which he did, it shows plainly that you do 
 not believe on him — that is, that you do not understand hini. 
 When I am an ordained priest, and undertake to preach the 
 gospel to the world, must I confess to my people that I cannot 
 prove what I am teaching? Must I confess that there is no 
 proof within the Church? Is it not so, that true believers in 
 Jesus. Christ Relieve exactly in the proportion in which they 
 obey him and do his works?" 
 : The boy paused for breath. The Archbishop and his secre- 
 tary sat spellbound before him. Then he resumed — 
 
 "How the consecrated wafer through the words of a priest 
 becomes the real body of Christ, I am as yet unable to learn. 
 I do not believe it does. How priests can grant absolution for 
 sins when, to me, sins ar« forgiven only when they are for- 
 saken, I have not been taught. I do not believe they can. The 
 Church assumes to teach these things, but it cannot prove 
 
 34 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 them. From the great works of Jesus and his apostles it has 
 descended to the blessing of /niVaffro* and candles, to the wor- 
 ship of the Virgin and man-made Saints, to long processions, 
 to show and glitter — while without her doors the poor, the 
 sick and the dying stretch out their thin, white hands and 
 beseech her to save them, not from hell or purgatory in a sup- 
 posed life to come, but from misery, want and ignorance right 
 here in this world, as Jesus told his followers they should do. 
 If you can show forth the omnipotence of God by healing the 
 sick and raising the dead, I could accept that as proof of your 
 understanding of the teachings of Jesus — and what you' realty 
 understand you can demonstrate and teach to others. Theo- 
 logical questions used to bother me, but they do so no longer. 
 Holy oil, holy water, blessed candles, incense, images and dis- 
 play do not interest me as they did when a child, nor do they 
 any longer seem part of an intelligent worship of God. But" — 
 his voice rising in animation — "to touch the blind man's eyes 
 and see them open; to bid the leper be clean, and see his skin 
 flush with health — ah! that is to worship God in spirit and in 
 truth — that is to prove that you understand what Jesus taught 
 and are obeying, not part, but all of his commands. I am not 
 apostate" — he concluded sadly — "I never did fully believe that 
 the religion of Jesus is the religion which the Church to-day 
 preaches and pretends to practice. I do not believe in her 
 heaven, her purgatory or her hell, nor do I believe that her 
 Masses move God to release souls from torment. I do not 
 believe in her powers to pardon and curse. I do not believe in 
 her claims of infallibility. But — " 
 
 He hesitated a moment, as if not quite sure of his ground. 
 Then his face glowed with sudden eagerness, and he cried, 
 "My Father, the Church needs the light— do you not see it? — 
 do you not, my uncle?" turning appealingly to the hard-faced 
 secretary. "Can we riot work to help her, and through her 
 reach the world? Should not the Church rightly be the greatest 
 instrument for good? But how can she teach the truth when 
 she herself is so filled with error? How can she preach the 
 gospel when she knows not what the gospel is? But Jesus 
 said that if we obeyed him we should know of the doctrine, 
 should know the true meaning of the gospel. But we must 
 first obey. We must not only preach, but we must become 
 spiritually minded enough to heal the sick — " 
 
 "Dios nos guarde!" interrupted the Archbishop, attempting 
 to rise, but prevented by his secretary, who laid a restraining 
 hand on his arm. The latter then turned to the overwrought 
 boy. 
 
 "My dear Jose," he said, smiling patronizingly upon the 
 
 35 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 youth, although his cold eyes glittered like bits of polished 
 steel, "His Eminence forgives your hasty words, for he recog- 
 nizes your earnestness, and, moreover, is aware how deeply 
 your heart is lacerated by your recent bereavement. But, fur- 
 ther — and I say this in confidence to you — His Eminence and 
 I have discussed these very matters to which you refer, and 
 have long seen the need of certain changes within the Church 
 which will redound to her glory and usefulness. And you must 
 know that the Holy Father in Rome also recognizes these needs, 
 and sees, too, the time when they will be met. However, his 
 great wisdom prevents him from acting hastily. You must 
 remember that our blessed Saviour suffered many things to be 
 so for the time, although he knew they would be altered in 
 due season. So it is with the Church. Her children are not all 
 deep thinkers, like yourself, but are for the most part poor and 
 ignorant people, who could not understand your high, views. 
 They must be led in ways with which they are familiar until 
 they can be lifted gradually to higher planes of thought and 
 conduct. Is it not so? You are one who will do much for 
 them, my son — ^but you will accomplish nothing by attempting 
 suddenly to overthrow the established traditions which they 
 reverence, nor by publicly prating about the Church's defects. 
 Your task will be to lead them gently, imperceptibly, up out 
 of darkness into the light, which, despite your accusations, does 
 shine in the Church, and is visible to all who rightly seek it. 
 You have yet four years in the Seminario. You gave us your 
 promise — the Rincon word — that you would lay aside these 
 doubts and questionings until your course was completed. We 
 do not hold yon— ^but you hold yourself to your wordi Our 
 sincere advice is that you keep your counsel, and silently work 
 with us for the Church and mankind. The Church will offer 
 you unlimited opportunities for service. She is educating you. 
 Indeed, has she not generously given you the very data where- 
 with you are enabled now to accuse her? You will find her 
 always the same just, tolerant, wise Mother, leading her 
 children upward as fast as they are able to journey. Her work 
 is universal, and she is impervious to the shafts of envy, malice, 
 and hatred which her enemies launch at her. She has resources 
 of which you as yet know nothing. In the end she will triumph. 
 You are offered an opportunity to contribute toward that 
 triumph and to share in it. His Eminence knows, that you will 
 not permit Satan to make you reject that offer now." 
 
 The secretary's sharp, beady eyes looked straight into those 
 of the youth, and held him. His small, round head, with its 
 low brow and grizzled locks, waved snake-like on the man's 
 long neck. His tall form, in its black cassock, bent over the 
 
 36 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 lad like a spectre. His slender arms, of uncanny length, waved 
 constantly before him; and the long, bony fingers seemed to 
 reach into the boy's very soul and choke the springs of life at 
 their origin. His reasoning took the form of suggestion, bear- 
 ing the indisputable stamp of authority. Again, the boy, con- 
 fused and uncertain, bowed before years and worldly ex- 
 perience, and returned to his solitude and the companionship 
 of his books and his writing. 
 
 "Occupy till I come," the patient Master had tenderly said. 
 From earliest boyhood Jose had heard this clarion call 
 within his soul. And striving, delving, plodding, he had sought 
 to obey — struggling toward the distant gleam, toward the reali- 
 zation of something better and nearer the Master's thought than 
 the childish creeds of his fellow-men — something warmer, more 
 vital than the pulseless decrees of ecumenical councils — some- 
 thing to solve men's daily problems here on earth — something 
 to heal their diseases of body and soul, and lift them into that 
 realm of spiritual thinking where material pleasures, sensa- 
 tions, and possessions no longer form the single aim and exist- 
 ence of mankind, and life becomes what in reality it is, eternal 
 ecstasy! The Christ had promised! And Jose would occupy 
 and wait in faith until, with joy inexpressible, he should behold 
 the shining form of the Master at the door of his opened tomb. 
 
 "With Your Eminence's permission I will accompany the 
 boy back to Rome," the secretary said one day, shortly before 
 Jose's return to the seminary. "I will consult with the Rector, 
 and suggest that certain and special tutelage be given the lad. 
 Let them bring their powers of reasoning and argument to bear 
 upon him, to the end that his thinking may be directed into 
 proper channels before it is too late. Hombre!" he muttered, 
 as with head bent and hands clasped behind his back he slowly 
 paced before the Archbishop. "To think that he is a Rinc6n! 
 And yet, but sixteen — a babe — a mere babe!" 
 
 CHAPTER 7 
 
 IT must have been, necessarily, a very complex set of causes 
 that could lay hold on a boy so really gifted as Jose de 
 Rincon and, against his instincts and, on the part of those 
 responsible for the deed, with the certain knowledge of his 
 disinclination, urge him into the priesthood of a religious in- 
 stitution with which congenitally he had but little in common. 
 To begin with, the bigoted and selfish desires of his parents 
 found in the boy's filial devotion a ready and sufficient means 
 
 37 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 of compelling him to any sacrifice of self. Only a thorough 
 understanding of the Spanish temperament -will enable one to 
 arrive at a just estimate of Jose's character, and the sacredness 
 of the promises given his mother. Though the child might 
 pine and droop like a cankered rosebud, yet he would never 
 cease to regard the sanctity of his oath as eternally binding. 
 And the mother would accept the sacrifice, for her love for her 
 little son was clouded by her great ambitions in respect to his 
 earthly career, and her genuine solicitude for his soul's eternal 
 welfare. 
 
 Family tradition, sacred and inviolable, played its by no 
 means small part in this affair. Custom, now as inviolable as 
 the Jewish law, decreed that the first-born son should sink his 
 individuality into that of the Mother Church. And to the 
 Spaniard, costumbre is law. Again, the vacillating and hesitant 
 nature of the boy himself contributed largely to the result; for, 
 though supremely gifted in receptivity and broadness of mind, 
 in critical analysis and keenness of perception, he nevertheless 
 lacked the energy of will necessary to the shaping of a life- 
 course along normal lines. The boy knew what he preferred, 
 yet he said Amen both to the prayers of his parents and the 
 suggestions of doubt which his own mind offered. He was 
 weakest where the greatest firmness was demanded. His love 
 of study, his innate shrinking from responsibility, and his 
 repugnance toward discord and strife — in a word, his lack of 
 fighting qualities— naturally caused him to seek the lines of 
 least resistance, and thus afforded a ready advantage to those 
 who sought to influence him. 
 
 But why, it may be asked, such zeal on the part of the Arch- 
 bishop and his secretary in forcing upon the boy a career to 
 which they knew. he was disinclined? Why should loyal agents 
 of the Church so tirelessly urge into the priesthood one who 
 might prove a serpent in her bosom? 
 
 The Archbishop may be dismissed from this discussion. 
 That his motives were wholly above the bias of worldly ambi- 
 tion, we may not aiiirm. Yet we know that he was actuated 
 by zeal for the Church; that he had its advancement, its growth 
 in power and prestige always at heart. And we know that he 
 would have rejoiced some day to boast, "We have saved to the 
 Church a brilliant soft who threatened to become a redoubtable 
 enemy." The forces operating for and against this desideratum 
 seemed to him about equally matched. The boy was still very 
 young. His mind was as yet in the formative period, and would 
 be for some years. If the Church could secure her hold upon 
 him during this period she would doubtless retain it for all 
 time; for, as the sagacious secretary so often quoted to his 
 
 38 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 superior, "Once a priest, always a priest," emphasizing the 
 tenet that the character imprinted by ordination is inefface- 
 able. 
 
 As for the secretary, he was a Rincon, proud and bigoted, 
 and withal fanatically loyal to the Church as an institution, 
 whatever its or his own degree of genuine piety. It was deeply 
 galling to his ecclesiastical pride to see the threatened develop- 
 ment of heretical tendencies in a scion of his house. These were 
 weeds which must and should be choked, cost what it might! 
 To this end any means were justified, for "What doth it profit 
 a man to gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" And 
 the Rincon soul had been molded centuries ago. The secretary 
 hated the rapidly developing "scientific" spirit of the age and 
 the "higher criticism" with a genuine and deadly hatred. His 
 curse rested upon all ftiodern culture. To him, the Jesuit 
 college at Rome had established the level of intellectual free- 
 dom. He worshiped the landmarks which the Fathers had 
 set, and he would have opposed their removal with his life. 
 No, the Rincon traditions must be preserved at whatever cost! 
 The heretical buddings within Jose should be checked; he 
 should enter the priesthood; his thinking should be directed 
 into proper channels; his mind should be bent into conformity 
 with Holy Church! If not — but there was no alternative. 
 The all-powerful Church could and would accomplish it. 
 
 In the choice of Rafael de Rincon as secretary and assistant, 
 the Archbishop had secured to himself a man of vast knowledge 
 of ecclesiastical matters, of great acumen, and exceptional abil- 
 ity. The man was a Jesuit, and a positive, dynamic representa- 
 tive of all that the order stands for. He was now in his sixty- 
 eighth year, but as vigorous of mind and body as if he bore 
 but half his burden of age. For some years prior to his connec- 
 tion with the See of Seville he had served in the royal house- 
 hold ei Madrid. But, presumably at the request of Queen 
 Isabella, he had been peremptorily summoned to Rome some 
 three years before her exile ; and when he again left the Eternal 
 City it was with the tentative papal appointment to Seville. 
 
 Just why Padre Rafael had been relieved of his duties in. 
 Madrid was never divulged. But gossip supplied the paucity 
 of fact with the usual delectable speculations, the most per- 
 sistent of which had to do with the rumored birth of a royal 
 child. The deplorable conduct of the Queen after her enforced 
 marriage to Don Francisco D'Assis had thrown the shadow of 
 suspicion on the legitimacy of all her children; and when it 
 began to be widely hinted that Padre Rafael, were he so dis- 
 posed, might point to a humble cottage in the sunlit hills of 
 Granada where lay a tiny Infanta, greatly resembling the 
 
 39 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 famous singer and favorite of the Queen, Marfofi, Marquis de 
 Loja, Isabella's alarm was sufficient to arouse the Vatican to 
 action. With the removal of Padre Rafael, and the bestowal 
 of the "Golden Rose of Faith and Virtue" upon the Queen by 
 His Holiness, Pio Nono, the rumor quickly subsided, and was 
 soon forgotten. 
 
 Whether because of this supposed secret Padre Rafael was 
 in favor at the court of Pio Nono's successor, we may not say. 
 The man's character was quite enigmatical, and divulged noth- 
 ing. Rut, if we may again appeal to rumor, he did appear to 
 have influence in papal circles. And we are not sure that he 
 did not seek to augment that influence by securing his irreso- 
 lute little nephew to the Church. And yet, the sincerity of his 
 devotion to the papacy cannot be questioned, as witness his 
 services to Pius IX., "the first Christian to achieve infallibility," 
 during the troublesome years of 1870-71, when the French 
 dibacle all but scuttled the papal. ship of state. And if now 
 he sought to use his influence at the Vatican, we shall gener- 
 ously attribute it to his loyalty to Rincon traditions, and his 
 genuine concern for the welfare of the little Jose, rather than to 
 any desire to advance his own ecclesiastical status. 
 
 Rut, it may be asked, during the eight years of Jose's course 
 in the seminary, did his tutors not mark the forces at work in 
 the boy's soul? And if so, why did they not urge his dismissal 
 as unfit for the calling of the priesthood? 
 
 Recause, true to his promises, and stubbornly hugging the 
 fetish of family pride, the boy gave but little indication during 
 the first four years of his course of the heretical doubts and dis- 
 beliefs fermenting within his troubled mind. And when, after 
 the death of his father and its consequent release of the flood of 
 protest and mental disquiet so long pent up within him, the 
 uncle returned to Rome with the lad to advise his instructors 
 to bring extra pressure to bear upon him in order to convince 
 him of the truths upon which the Church rested, Jos6 subsided 
 again into his wonted attitude of placid endurance, even of 
 partial acceptance of the religious tutelage, and seldom gave 
 further sign of inner discord. Acting upon the suggestions of 
 the uncle, Jose's instructors took special pains to parade before 
 him the evidence and authorities supporting the claims of Holy 
 Church and the grand tenets upon which the faith reposed. In 
 particular were the arguments of Cardinal Newman cited to 
 him, and the study of the latter's Apology was made a require- 
 ment of his course. The writings of the great Cardinal Man- 
 ning also were laid before him, and he was told to find therein 
 ample support for all assumptions of the Church. 
 
 Silently and patiently the boy to outward appearance ac- 
 
 40 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 quiesced; but often the light of his midnight candle might have 
 revealed a wan face, frowning and perplexed, while before him 
 lay the Cardinal's argument for belief in the miraculous resus- 
 citation of the Virgin Mary — the argument being that the story 
 is a beautiful one, and a comfort to those pious souls who think 
 it true ! 
 
 Often, too, there lay before him the words of the great 
 Newman : 
 
 "You may be taken away young; you may live to four- 
 score; you may die in your bed, or in the open field — -but if 
 Mary intercedes for you, that day will find you watching and 
 ready. All things will be fixed to secure your salvation, all 
 dangers will be foreseen, all obstacles removed, all aid pro- 
 vided." 
 
 And as often he would close the book and drop his head in 
 wonder that a man so humanly great could believe in an infinite, 
 omnipotent God amenable to influence, even to that of the 
 sanctified Mary. 
 
 "The Christ said, 'These signs shall follow them that be- 
 lieve,' " he sometimes murmured, as he sat wrapped in study. 
 "But do the Master's signs follow the Cardinals? Yet these 
 men say they believe. What can they do that other men can 
 not? Alas, nothing! What boots their sterile faith?" 
 
 The limitations with which the lad was hedged about in 
 the Seminario quite circumscribed his existence there. All lay 
 influences were carefully excluded, and he learned only what 
 was selected for him by his teachers. Added to this narrowing 
 influence was his promise to his mother that he would read 
 nothing proscribed by the Church. Of Bible criticism, there- 
 fore, he might know nothing. For original investigation of 
 authorities there was neither permission nor opportunity. He 
 was taught to discount historical criticism, and to regard an- 
 archy as the logical result of independence of thought. He was 
 likewise impressed with the fact that he must not question the 
 official acts of Holy Church. 
 
 "But," he once remonstrated, "it was by an ecumenical 
 council— a group of frail human beings — ^that the Pope was 
 declared infallible! And that only a few years ago!" 
 
 "The council but sfet its seal of affirmation to an already 
 great and established fact," was the reply. "As the supreme 
 teacher and definer of the Church of God no Pope has ever 
 erred, nor ever can err, in the exposition of revealed truth." 
 
 "But Tito Cennini said in class but yesterday that many of 
 the Popes had been wicked men!" 
 
 "You must learn to distinguish, my son, between the man 
 and the office. No matter what the private life of a Pope may 
 
 41 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 have been, the validity of his official acts is not thereby affected. 
 Nor is the doctrine of the Church." 
 
 "But, — " 
 
 "Nay, my son ; this is what the Church teaches ; and to 
 slight it is to emperil^your soul." 
 
 But, despite his promises to his mother and the Archbishop, 
 and in despite, too, of his own conscientious endeavor to keep 
 every contaminating influence from entering his mind, he could 
 not prevent this same Tito from assiduously cultivating his 
 friendship, and voicing the most liberal and worldly opinions 
 to him. 
 
 "Perdio, but you are an ignorant animal, Jose!" ejaculated 
 the little rascal one day, entering Jose's room and throwing 
 himself upon the bed. "Why, didn't you know that the Popes 
 used to raise money by selling their pardons and indulgences? 
 That fellow Tetzel, back in Luther's time, rated sacrilege at 
 nine ducats, murder at seven, witchcraft at six, and so on. 
 Ever since the time of Innocent VIII. immunity from purgatory 
 could be bought. It was his chamberlain who used to say, 'God 
 willeth not the death of a sinner, but that he should pay and 
 live.' Ha! ha! Those were good old days, amico mio!" 
 
 But the serious Jose, to whom honor was a sacred thing, 
 saw not his ;Gompani6n's caiise for mirth. "Tito," he hazarded, 
 "our instructor tells us that we must distinguish — " 
 
 "Ho! ho!" laughed the immodest Tito, "if the Apostolic 
 virtue has been handed down from the great Peter through the 
 long line of Bishops of Rome and later Popes, what happened 
 to it when there were two or three Popes, in the Middle Ages? 
 And which branch retained the unbroken succession? Of a 
 truth, amico, you are very credulous!" 
 
 Jose looked at him horrified. 
 
 "And which branch now," continued the irrepressible Tito, 
 "holds a monoply of the Apostolic virtue, the Anglican Church, 
 the Greek, or the Roman Catholic? For each claims it, and 
 each regards its rival claimants as rank heretics." 
 
 Jose could not but dwell long and thoughtfully on this. 
 Then, later, he again sought the, graceless Tito. "Amico," he 
 said eagerly, "why do not these claimants of the true Apostolic 
 virtue seek to prove their claims, instead of, like pouting chil- 
 dren, vainly spending themselves in: denouncing their rivals?" 
 
 "Prove them!" shouted Tito. "And how, amico mio?" 
 
 "Why," returned Jose earnestly, "by doing the works the 
 Apostles did; by healii^ the sick, &nd raising the dead, and — " 
 
 Tito answered with a mocking laugh. "Perdio, amico! 
 know you not that if they submitted to such proof not one of 
 the various contestants could substantiate his claims?" 
 
 42 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Then, oh, then how could the council declare the Pope to 
 be infallible?" 
 
 Tito regarded his friend pityingly. "My wonder is, amico," 
 he replied seriously, "that they did not declare him immortal 
 as well. When you read the true history of those exciting 
 days and learn something of the political intrigue with which 
 the Church was then connected, you will see certain excellent 
 reasons why the Holy Father should have been declared infalli- 
 ble. But let me ask you, amico, if you have such doubts, why are 
 you here, of all places? Surely it is not your own life-purpose 
 to become a priest!" 
 
 "My life-purpose," answered Jose meditatively, "is to find 
 my soul — my real self." 
 
 Tito went away shaking his head. He could not under- 
 stand such a character as that of Jose. But, for that matter, 
 no one ever fathoms a fellow-being. And so we who have at- 
 tempted a sketch of the boy's mentality will not complain if 
 its complexity prevents us from adequately setting it forth. 
 Rather shall we feel that we have accomplished much if we 
 have shown that the lad had no slight justification for the bud- 
 ding seeds of religious doubt within his mind, and for conclud- 
 ing that of the constitution of God men know nothing, despite 
 their fantastical theories and their bold affirmations, as if He 
 were a man in their immediate neighborhood, with whom they 
 were on the most intimate terms. 
 
 In the course of time Jose found the companionship of Tito 
 increasingly unendurable, and so he welcomed the formation 
 of another frieiidship among his mates, even though it was 
 with a lad much older than himself, Bernardo Damiano, a 
 candidate for ordination, and one thoroughly indoctrinated in 
 the faith of Holy Church. With open and receptive heart our 
 young Levite eagerly availed himself of his new friend's volun- 
 tary discourses on the mooted topics about which his own 
 thought incessantly revolved. 
 
 "Fear not, Jose, to accept all that is taught you here," said 
 Bernardo in kindly admonition; "for if this be not the very 
 doctrine of the Christ himself, where else will you find it? 
 Among the Protesters? Nay, they have, it is true, hundreds of 
 churches; and they call themselves Christians. But their reli- 
 gion is as diverse as their churches are numerous, and it is not 
 of God or Jesus Christ. They have impiously borrowed from 
 us. Their emasculated creeds are only assumptions of human 
 belief. They recognize no law of consistency, and so they 
 enjoy unbridled license. They believe what they please, and 
 each interprets Holy Writ to suit his own fantastical whims." 
 
 "But, the Popes — " began Jose, returning again to his trou- 
 blesome topic. 
 
 43 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Yes, and what of them?" replied his friend calmly. "Can 
 you not see beyond the human man to the Holy Office? The 
 Holy Father is the successor of the great Apostle Peter, whom 
 our blessed Saviour appointed his Vicar on earth, and con- 
 stituted the supreme teacher and judge in matters of morals. 
 Remember, Jesus Christ founded the Catholic religion I He 
 established the Church, which he commanded all men to sup- 
 port and obey. That Church is still, and always will be, the 
 infallible teacher of truth, for Jesus declared that it should 
 never fall. Let not Satan lead you to the Protesters, Jose, for 
 their creeds are but snares and pitfalls." 
 
 "I know nothing of Protestant creeds, nor want to," an- 
 swered Jos6. "If Jesus Christ established the Catholic religion, 
 then I want to accept it, and shall conclude that my doubts and 
 questionings are but the whisperings of Satan. But — " 
 
 "But what, my friend? The Popes again?" Bernardo laughed, 
 and put his arm affectionately about the younger lad. "The 
 Pope, Jose, is, always has been, and always will be, supreme, 
 crowned with the triple crown as king of earth, and heaven, 
 and hell. We mortals have not made him so. Heaven alone 
 did that. God himself made our Pontiff of the Holy Catholic 
 Church superior even to the angels; and if it were possible for 
 them to believe contrary to the faith, he could judge them and 
 lay the ban of excommunication upon them." 
 
 Josh's eyes widened while his friend talked. Was he losing 
 his own senses? Or was it true, as his lamented father had 
 said, that he had been cast under the spell of the devil's wiles? 
 Had he been foreordained to destruction by his own heretical 
 thought? For, if what he heard in Rome was truth, then was 
 he damned, irrevocably! 
 
 "Come," said his friend, taking his arm; "let us go to the 
 library and read the Credo of the Holy Father, Pius the Fourth, 
 wherein is set forth in detail the doctrinal system of our be- 
 loved Church. And let me urge you, my dear young friend, to 
 accept it, unreservedly, and be at peace, else will your life be a 
 ceaseless torment." 
 
 Oh, that he could have done so! That he could have joined 
 those thousands of faithful, loyal adherents to Holy Church, 
 who find in its doctrines naught that stimulates a doubt, nor 
 urges against the divine institution of its gorgeous, material 
 fabric ! 
 
 But, vain desire! "I cannot! I cannot!" he wailed in the 
 dark hours of night upon his bed." "I cannot love a God who 
 has to be prayed to by Saints and Virgin, and persuaded by 
 them not to damn His own children! I cannot believe that the 
 Pope, a mere human being, can canonize Saints and make spir- 
 
 44 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 itual beings who grant the prayers of men and intercede with 
 God for them! Yes, I know there are multitudes of good peo- 
 ple who believe and accept the doctrines of the Church. But, 
 alas ! I am not one of them, nor can be." 
 
 For, we repeat, the little Jose was morbidly honest. And 
 this gave rise to fear, a corroding fear that he might not do 
 right by his God, his mother, and himself, the three variants in 
 his complex life-equation. His self-condemnation increased; 
 yet his doubts kept pace with it. He more than ever distrusted 
 his own powers after his first four years in the seminary. He 
 more than ever lacked self-confidence. He was more than ever 
 vacillating, hesitant, and infirm of purpose. He even at times, 
 when under the pall of melancholia, wondered if he had really 
 loved his deceased father, and whether it was real grief which 
 he felt at his parent's demise. Often, too, when fear and doubt 
 pressed heavily, and his companions avoided him because of the 
 aura of gloom in which he dwelt, he wondered if he were be- 
 coming insane. He seemed to become obsessed with the belief 
 that his ability to think was slowly paralyzing. And with it 
 his will. And yet, proof that this was not the case was found 
 in his stubborn opposition to trite acquiescence, and in his in- 
 frequent reversals of mood, when he would even feel an intense, 
 if transient, sense of exaltation in the thought that he was 
 doing the best that in him lay. 
 
 It was during one of these lighter moods, and at the close of 
 a school year, that a great joy came to him in an event which 
 left a lasting impress upon his life. Following close upon a 
 hurried visit which his uncle paid to Rome, the boy was in- 
 formed that it had been arranged for him to accompany the 
 Papal Legate on a brief journey through Germany and Eng- 
 land, returning through France, in order that he might gain a 
 first-hand impression of the magnitude of the work which the 
 Church was doing in the field, and meet some of her great men. 
 The broadening, quieting, confidence-inspiring influence of such 
 a journey would be, in the opinion of Padre Rafael, incalcula- 
 ble. And so, with eager, bubbling hope, the lad set out. 
 
 Whatever it may have been intended that the boy should 
 see on this ecclesiastical pilgrimage, he returned to Rome at the 
 end of three months with his quick, impressionable mind stuf- 
 fed with food for reflection. Though he had seen the glories 
 of the Church, worshiped in her matchless temples, and sat 
 at the feet of her great scholars, now in the quiet of his little 
 room he found himself dwelling upon a single thought, into 
 which all of his collected impressions were gathered: "The 
 Church — Catholic and Protestant— is — oh, God, the Church is — 
 not sick, not dying, but — dead! Aye, it has served both God 
 
 45 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 and Mammon, and paid the awful penalty! And what is left? 
 Caesarism!" The great German and British nations were not 
 Catholic. But worse, the Protestant people of the German Em- 
 pire were, sadly indifferent to religion. He had seen, in Berlin, 
 men of family trying to resell the Bibles which their children 
 had used in preparation for confirmation. He had found family 
 worship all but extinct. He had marked the widespread indif- 
 ference among Protestant parents in regard to the religious 
 instruction of their young. He had been told there that parents 
 had but a slight conception of their duty as moral guides, and 
 that children were growing up with only sensuous pleasures 
 and material gain as their life-aims. Again and again he was 
 shown where in whole districts it was utterly impossible to se- 
 cure young men for ordination to the Protectant ministry. And 
 he was furnished with statistics setting forth the ominous fact 
 that within a few years, were the present decline unchecked, 
 there would be no students in the Protestant universities of the 
 country. 
 
 "Do you not see in this, my son," said the Papal Legate, 
 "the blight of unbelief? Do you not mark the withering effects 
 of the modern so-called scientific thought? What think you of 
 a religion wherein the chief interest centers in trials for heresy; 
 whose ultimate effect upon human character is a return to the 
 raw, primitive, immature sense of life that once prevailed among 
 this great people? What think you now of Luther and his 
 diabolical work?" 
 
 The wondering boy hung his head without reply. Would 
 Germany at length come to the true fold? And was that fold 
 the Holy Catholic Church? 
 
 And England — ah ! there was the Anglican church. Catholic, 
 but not Roman, and therefore but a counterfeit of the Lord's 
 true Church. Would it endure? "No," the Legate had said; 
 "already defection has set in, and the prodigal's return to the 
 loving parent in Rome is but a matter of time." 
 
 Then came his visit to the great abbey of Westminster, and 
 the impression which, to his last earthly day, he bore as one of 
 his most sacred treasures. There in the famous Jerusalem 
 Chamber he had sat, his eyes suffused with tears and his throat 
 choked with emotion. In that room the first Lancastrian king 
 long years before had closed his unhappy life. There the great 
 Westminster Confession had been framed. There William of 
 Orange had held his weighty discussion of the Prayer-Book 
 revision, which was hoped to bring Churchmen and Dissenters 
 again into harmony. And there, greatest of all, had gathered, 
 day after day, and year after year, the patient, devoted group 
 of men who gave to the world its Revised Edition of the Holy 
 
 4& 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Bible, only a few brief years ago. As the rapt Jose closed his 
 eyes and listened to the ■whispered conversation of the scholarly 
 men about him, he seemed to see the consecrated Revisersj 
 seated again at the long table, deep in the holy search of the 
 Scriptures for the profound secrets of life which they hold. He 
 saw with what sedulous care they pursued their sacred work, 
 without trace of prejudice or religious bias, and with only the 
 selfless purpose always before them to render to mankind a 
 priceless benefit in a more perfect rendition of the Word of God. 
 Why could not men come together now in that same generous 
 spirit of love? But no, Rome would never yield her assumptions. 
 But when the lad rose and followed his guides from the room, 
 it was with a new-born conviction, and a revival of his erstwhile 
 firm purpose to translate for himself, at the earliest opportunity, 
 the Greek Testament, if, perchance, he might find thereby what 
 his yearning soul so deeply craved, the truth. 
 
 That the boy was possessed of scholarly instincts, there 
 could be no doubt. His ability had immediately attracted his 
 instructors on entering the seminary. And, but for his stub- 
 born opposition to dogmatic acceptance without proofs, he 
 might have taken and maintained the position of leader in 
 scholarship in the institution. Literature and the languages, 
 particularly Greek, were his favorite studies, and in these he 
 excelled. Even as a child, long before the eventful night when 
 his surreptitious reading of Voltaire precipitated events, he 
 had determined to master Greek, and some day to translate the 
 New Testament from the original sources into his beloved Cas- 
 tilian tongue. Before setting out for Rome he had so applied 
 himself to the worn little grammar which the proprietor of the 
 bookstall in Seville had loaned him, that he was able to make 
 translations with comparative fluency. In the seminary he 
 plunged into it with avidity; and when he returned from his 
 journey with the Papal Legate he began in earnest his transla- 
 tion of the Testament. This, like so much of the boy's work 
 and writing, was done secretly and in spare moments. And his 
 zeal was such that often in the middle of the night it would 
 compel him to rise and, after drawing the shades carefully and 
 stopping the crack under the door with his cassock, light his 
 candle and dig away at his Testament until dawn. 
 
 This study of the New Testament in the Greek resulted in 
 many translations differing essentially from the accepted ver- 
 sion, as could not but happen when a mind so original- as that 
 of the boy Jose was concentrated upon it. His first stumbling 
 block was met in the prayer of Jesus in an attempt to render 
 the petition, "Give us this day our daily bread," into idiomatic 
 modern thought. The word translated "daily" was not to be 
 
 47 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 found elsewhere in the Greek language. Evidently the Aramaic 
 word which Jesus employed, and of which this Greek word was 
 a translation, must have been an unusual one — a coined expres- 
 sion. And what did it mean? No one knows. Jose found 
 means to put the question to his tutor. He was told that it 
 doubtless meant "super-supernal." But what could "super- 
 supernal" convey to the world's multitude of hungry suppliants 
 for the bread of life ! And so he rendered the phrase "Give us 
 each day a better understanding of Thee." Again, going care- 
 fully through his Testament the boy crossed out the words 
 translated "God," and in their places substituted "divine in- 
 fluence." Many of the best known and most frequently quoted 
 passages suffered similarly radical changes at his hands. For 
 the translation "truth," the boy often preferred to substitute 
 "reality"; and such passages as "speaking the truth in love" 
 were rendered by him, "lovingly speaking of those things which 
 are real." "Faith" and "belief" were generally changed to 
 "understanding" and "real knowing," so that the passage, "O 
 ye of little faith," became in his translation, "O ye of slight 
 understanding." The word "miracle" he consistently changed 
 to "sign" throughout. The command to ask "in the name of 
 Jesus" caused him hours of deep and perplexing thought, until 
 he hit upon the, to him, happy rendering, "in his character." 
 Why not? In the character of the Christ mankind might ask 
 anything and it would be given them. But to acquire that 
 character men must repent. And the Greek word "metanoia," 
 so generally rendered "repentance," would therefore have to be 
 translated "radical and complete change of thought." Again; 
 why not? Was not a complete change of thought requisite if 
 one were to become like Jesus? Could mortals think continually 
 of murder, warfare, disaster, failure, crime, sickness and death, 
 and of the acquisition of material riches and power, and still 
 hope to acquire the character of the meek but mighty Nazarene? 
 Decidedly no! And so he went on delving and plodding, day 
 after day, night after night, substituting and changing, but 
 always, even if unconsciously, giving to the Scripture a more 
 metaphysical and spiritual meaning, which displaced in its 
 translation much of the material and earthy. 
 
 Before the end of his" seminary training the translation was 
 complete. What a new light it seemed to throw upon the mis- 
 sion of Jesus ! How fully he realized now that creeds and con- 
 fessions had never even begun to sound the profound depths of 
 the Bible! What a changed message it seemed to carry for 
 mankind! How he longed to show it to his preceptors and 
 discuss it with them ! But his courage failed when he faced this 
 thought. However, another expedient presented: he would 
 
 48 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 •write a treatise on the New Testament, embodying the salient 
 facts of his translation, and send it out into the world for pub- 
 lication in the hope that it might do much good. Again, night 
 after night in holy zeal he toiled on the work, and when com- 
 pleted, sent it, under his name, to a prominent literary magazine 
 published in Paris. 
 
 Its appearance — for it was accepted eagerly by the editor, 
 ■vvho was bitterly hostile to the Church — ^.caused a stir in eccle- 
 siastical circles and plunged the unwise lad into a sea of trouble. 
 The essay in general might have been excusable on its distinct 
 merits and the really profound scholarship exhibited in its 
 composition. But when the boy, a candidate for holy orders, 
 and almost on the eve of his ordination, seized upon the famous 
 statement of Jesus in which he is reported to have told Peter 
 that he was the rock upon which the Lord's church should be 
 eternally founded, and showed that Jesus called Peter a stone, 
 "petros," a loose stone, and one of many, whereas he then said 
 that his church should be founded upon "petra," the living, 
 immovable rock of truth, thus corroborating Saint Augustine, 
 but confuting other supposedly impregnable authority for the 
 superiority and infallibility of the Church, it was going a bit 
 too far. 
 
 The result was severe penance, coupled with soul-searing 
 reprimand, and absolute prohibition of further original writ- 
 ing. His translation of the Testament was confiscated, and he 
 was commanded to destroy all notes referring to it, and to re- 
 frain from making further translations. His little room was 
 searched, and all references and papers which might be con- 
 strued as unevangelical were seized and burned. He was then 
 transferred to another room for the remainder of his seminary 
 course, and given a roommate, a cynical, sneering bully of Irish 
 descent, steeped to the core in churchly doctrine, who did not 
 fail to embrace every opportunity to make the suffering penitent 
 realize that he was in disgrace and under surveillance. The 
 effect was to drive the sensitive boy still further into himself, 
 and to augment the sullenness of disposition which had earlier 
 characterized him and separated him from social intercourse 
 with the world in which he moved apart from his fellow-men^ 
 . Thus had Jose been shown very clearly that implicit obe- 
 dience would at all times be exacted from him by the Church. 
 He had been shown quite unmistakably that an inquisitive and 
 determined spirit would not be tolerated if it led to deductions 
 at variance with accepted tradition. He might starve mentally, 
 if his prescribed food did not satisfy his hunger; but he must 
 understand, once for all, that truth had long since been re- 
 vealed, and that it was not within his province to attempt any 
 further additions to the revelation. 
 
 49 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Once more, for the "sake of his mother, and that he might 
 learn all that the Church had to teach him, the boy conscien- 
 tiously tried to obey. He was reminded again that, though 
 taught to obey, he was being trained to lead. This in a sense 
 pleased him, as offering surcease from an erking sense of re- 
 sponsibility. Nevertheless, though he constantly wavered in 
 decision; though at times the Church won him, and he yielded 
 temporarily to her abundant charms; the spirit of protest did 
 wax steadily stronger within him as the years passed. Back 
 and forth he swung, like a pendulum, now drawn by the power 
 and influence of the mighty Church; now, as he approached it, 
 repelled by the things which were revealed as he drew near. In 
 the last two years of his course his soul-revolt often took the 
 form of open protest to his preceptors against indulgences and 
 the sacramental graces, against the arbitrary Index Expurga- 
 torius, and the Church's stubborn opposition to modern pro- 
 gression. Like Faust, his studies were convincing him more 
 and more firmly of the emptiness of human hypotheses and 
 undemonstrable philosophy. The growing conviction that the 
 Holy Church was more worldly than spiritual filled his shrink- 
 ing soul at times with horror. The limitinj;; thought of Rome 
 was often stifling to him. He had begun to realize that liberty 
 of thought and conscience were his only as he received it al- 
 ready outlined from the Church. Even his interpretation of 
 the Bible must come from her. His very ideas must first receive 
 the ecclesiastical stamp before he might advance them. His 
 opinions must measure up — or down — to those of his tutors, 
 ere he might even hold them. In terror he felt that the Church 
 was absorbing him, heart and mind. His individuality was 
 seeping away. In time he would become but a link in the 
 great worldly system which he was being trained to serve. 
 
 These convictions did not come to him all at once, nor were 
 they as yet firmly fixed. They were rather suggestions which 
 became increasingly insistent as the years went on. He had 
 entered the seminary at the tender age of twelve, his mind 
 wholly unformed, but protesting even then. All through his 
 course he had sought what there was in Christianity upon which 
 he could lay firm hold. In the Church he had found an ultra- 
 conservative spirit and extreme reverence for authority. Tito 
 had told him that it was the equivalent of ancestor- worship. But 
 when he one day told his instructors that he was not neces- 
 sarily a disbeliever in the Scriptures because he did not accept 
 their interpretation of them, he could not but realize that Tito 
 had come dangerously near the truth. His translation of the 
 Greek Testament had forced him to the conclusion that much of 
 the material contained in the Gospels was not Jesus' own words, 
 
 50 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 but the commentaries of his reporters; not the Master's diction, 
 but theological lecturing by the writers of the Gospels. More- 
 over, in the matter of prayer, especially, he was all at sea. As 
 a child he had spent hours formulating humble, fervent peti- 
 tions, which did not seem to draw replies. And so there began 
 to form within his mind a concept, faint and ill-defined, of a 
 God very different from that canonically accepted. He tried to 
 believe that there was a Creator back of all things, but that He 
 was inexorable Law. And the lad was convinced that, some- 
 how, he had failed to get into harmony with that infinite Law. 
 But, in that case, why pray to Law? And, most foolish of all, 
 why seek to influence it, whether through Virgin or Saint? And, 
 if God is a good Father, why ask Him to be good? Then, to his 
 insistent question, "Unde Deus?" he tried to formulate the an- 
 swer that God is Spirit, and omnipresent. But, alas ! that' made 
 the good God include evil. No, there was a terrible human 
 misunderstanding of the divine nature, a woeful misinterpre- 
 tation. He must try to ask for light in the character of the 
 Christ. But then, how to assume that character? Like a gar- 
 ment? Impossible! "Oh, God above," he wailed aloud again 
 and again, "I don't know what to believe ! I don't know what 
 to think!" Foolish lad! Why did he think at all, when there 
 were those at hand to relieve him of that onerous task? 
 
 And so, at last, Jose sought to resign himself to his fate, 
 and, thrusting aside these mocking questions, accept the op- 
 portunities for service which his tutors so wisely emphasized 
 as the Church's special offering to him. He yielded to their 
 encoliragement to plunge heartily into his studies, for in such 
 absorption lay diversion from dangerous channels of thought. 
 Slowly, top, he yielded to their careful insistence that he must 
 suffer many things to be so for the nonce, even as Jesus did, 
 lest a too radical resistance now should delay the final glorious 
 consummation. 
 
 Was the boy actuated too strongly by the determination 
 that his widowed mother's hopes should never be blasted by 
 any assertion of his own will? Was he passively permitting 
 himself to be warped and twisted into ^ minion of an institution 
 alien to his soul in bigoted adherence to his morbid sense of 
 integrity? Was he for the present countenancing a lie, rather 
 than permit the bursting of a bomb which would rend the 
 family and bring "his beloved mother in sorrow to the grave? 
 Or was he biding his time, an undeveloped David, who would 
 some day sally forth like the lion of the tribe of Juda, to match 
 his moral courage against the blustering son of Anak? Time 
 only would tell. The formative period of his character was not 
 yet ended, and the data for prognostication were too complex 
 
 51 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 and conflicting. We can only be sure that his consuming de- 
 sire to know had been carefully fostered in the seminary, but in 
 such a manner as unwittingly to add to his confusion of thought 
 and to increase his fear of throwing himself unreservedly upon 
 his own convictions. That he grew to perceive the childishness 
 of churchly dogma, we know. That he appreciated the Church's 
 insane license of affirmation, its impudent affirmations of God's 
 thoughts and desires, its coarse assumptions of knowledge of 
 the inner workings of the mind of Omnipotence, we likewise 
 know. But, on the other hand, we know that he feared to break 
 with the accepted faith. The claims of Protestantism, though 
 lacking the pomp and pageantry of Catholicism to give them at- 
 tractiveness, offered him an interpretation of Christ's mission 
 that was little better than the teachings he was receiving. And 
 so his hesitant and vacillating nature, which hurled him into 
 the lists to-day as the resolute foe of dogma and superstition, 
 and' to-morrow would leave him weak and doubting at the feet 
 of the enemy, kept him wavering, silent and unhappy, on the 
 thin edge of resolution throughout the greater part of his 
 course. His lack of force, or the holding of his force in check 
 by his filial honesty and his uncertainty of conviction, kept 
 him in the seminary for eight years, during which his being 
 was slowly, imperceptibly descending into him. At the age of 
 twenty he was still unsettled, but further than even he himself 
 realized from Rome. Who shall say that he was not at the 
 same time nearer to God? 
 
 On the day that he was twenty, three things of the gravest 
 import happened to the young Jose. His warm friend, Ber- 
 nardo, died suddenly, almost in his arms ; his uncle, Rafael de 
 Rincon, paid an unexpected visit to the Vatican; and the lad 
 received the startling announcement that he would be ordained 
 to the priesthood on the following day. 
 
 The sudden demise of the young Bernardo plunged Jose 
 into an excess of grief and again encompassed him with the 
 fear and horror of death. He shut himself up in his room, and 
 toward the close of the day took his writing materials and 
 penned a passionate appeal to his mother, begging her to absolve 
 him from his promises, and let him go out into the world, a 
 free man in search of truth. But scarcely had he finished his 
 letter when he was summoned into the Rector's office. There 
 it was explained to him that, in recognition of his high scholar- 
 ship, of his penitence and loyal obedience since the Testament 
 episode, and of the advanced work which he was now doing in 
 the seminary and the splendid promise he was giving, the Holy 
 Father had been asked to grant a special indult, waiving the 
 usual age requirement and permitting the boy to be ordained 
 
 52 
 
CARMEN ARI 
 
 with the class which was to receive the holy order of the priest- 
 hood the following day. It was further announced that after 
 ordination he should spend a year in travel with the Papal 
 Legate, and on his return might enter the office of the Papal 
 Secretary of State, as an under-secretary, or office assistant. 
 While there, he would be called upon to teach in the seminary, 
 and later might be sent to the University to pursue higher 
 studies leading to the degree of Doctor. 
 
 Before the boy had awakened .to his situation, the day of his 
 ordination arrived. The proud mother, learning from the secre- 
 tary of the precipitation of events, and doting on the boy whom 
 she had never understood; in total ignorance of the complex 
 elements of his soul, and little realizing that between her and 
 her beloved son there was now a gulf fixed which would never 
 be bridged, saw only the happy fruition of a life ambition. For- 
 tunately she had been kept in ignorance of the dubious incident 
 of the Testament translation and its results upon the boy; and 
 when the long anticipated day dawned her eyes swam in tears 
 of hallowed joy. The Archbishop and his grim secretary each 
 congratulated the other heartily, and the latter, breaking into 
 one of his rare smiles, murmured gratefully, "At last ! And our 
 enemies have lost a champion!" 
 
 The night before the ordination Jose had begged to occupy 
 a room alone. The appeal which emanated from his sad face, 
 his thin and stooping body, his whole drawn and tortured being, 
 would have melted flint. His request was granted. Throughout 
 the night the boy, on his knees beside the little bed, wrestled 
 with the emotions which were tearing his soul. Despondency 
 lay over him like a pall. A vague presentiment of impending 
 disaster pressed upon him like a millstone. Ceaselessly he 
 weighed and reviewed the forces which had combined to drive 
 him into the inconsistent position which he now occupied. In- 
 consistent, for his highest ideal had been truth. He was by 
 nature consecrated to it. He had sought it diligently in the 
 Church, and now that he was about to become her priest he 
 could not make himself believe that he had found it. Now, 
 when bound to her altars, he faced a life of deception, of false- 
 hood, as the champion of a faith which he could not unre- 
 servedly embrace. 
 
 But he had accepted his education from the Church; and 
 would he shrink from making payment therefor? Yet, on the 
 other hand, must he sacrifice honor — ^yea, his whole future — to 
 the payment of a debt forced upon him before he had reached 
 the age of reason? The oath of ordination, the priest's oath, 
 echoed in his throbbing ears like a soul-sentence to eternal 
 doom; while spectral shades of moving priests and bishops, lay- 
 
 53 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 and conflicting. We can only be sure that his consuming de- 
 sire to know had been carefully fostered in the seminary, but in 
 such a manner as unwittingly to add to his confusion of thought 
 and to increase his fear of throwing himself unreservedly upon 
 his own convictions. That he grew to perceive the childishness 
 of churchly dogma, we know. That he appreciated the Church's 
 insane license of afiBrmation, its impudent afflrmations of God's 
 thoughts and desires, its coarse assumptions of knowledge of 
 the inner workings of the mind of Omnipotence, we likewise 
 know. But, on the other hand, we know that he feared to break 
 with the accepted faith. The claims of Protestantism, though 
 lacking the pomp and pageantry of Catholicism to give them at- 
 tractiveness, offered him an interpretation of Christ's mission 
 that was little better than the teachings he was receiving. And 
 so his hesitant and vacillating nature, which hurled him into 
 the lists to-day as the resolute foe of dogma and superstition, 
 and" to-morrow would leave him weak and doubting at the feet 
 of the enemy, kept him wavering, silent and unhappy, on the 
 thin edge of resolution throughout the greater part of his 
 course. His lack of force, or the holding of his force in check 
 by his filial honesty and his uncertainty of conviction, kept 
 him in the seminary for eight years, during which his being 
 was slowly, imperceptibly descending into him. At the age of 
 twenty he was still unsettled, but further than even he himself 
 realized from Rome. Who shall say that he was not at the 
 same time nearer to God? 
 
 On the day that he was twenty, three things of the gravest 
 import happened to the young Jose. His warm friend* Ber- 
 nardo, died suddenly, almost in his arms ; his uncle, Rafael de 
 Rincon, paid an unexpected visit to the Vatican; and the lad 
 received the startling announcement that he would be ordained 
 to the priesthood on the following day. 
 
 The sudden demise of the young Bernardo plunged Jose 
 mto an excess of grief and again encompassed him with the 
 fear and horror of death. He shut himself up in his room, and 
 toward the close of the day took his writing materials and 
 penned a passionate appeal to his mother, begging her to absolve 
 him from his promises, and let him go out into the world, a 
 free man in search of truth. But scarcely had he finished his 
 letter when he was summoned into the Rector's office. There 
 it was explained to him that, in recognition of his high scholar- 
 ship, of his penitence and loyal obedience since the Testament 
 episode, and of the advanced work which he was now doing in 
 the seminary and the splendid promise he was giving, the Holjt 
 Father had been asked to grant a special indult, waiving the 
 usual age requirement and permitting the boy to be ordained 
 
 52 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 with the class which was to receive the holy order of the priest- 
 hood the following day. It was further announced that after 
 ordination he should spend a year in travel with the Papal 
 Legate, and on his return might enter the office of the Papal 
 Secretary of State, as an under-secretary, or office assistant. 
 While there, he would be called upon to teach in the seminary, 
 and later might be sent to the University to pursue higher 
 studies leading to the degree of Doctor. 
 
 Before the boy had awakened .to his situation, the day of his 
 ordination arrived. The proud mother, learning from the secre- 
 tary of the precipitation of events, and doting on the boy whom 
 she had never understood; in total ignorance of the complex 
 elements of his soul, and little realizing that between her and 
 her beloved son there was now a gulf fixed which would never 
 be bridged, saw only the happy fruition of a life ambition. For- 
 tunately she had been kept in ignorance of the dubious incident 
 of the Testament translation and its results upon the boy; and 
 when the long anticipated day dawned her eyes swam in tears 
 of hallowed joy. The Archbishop and his grim secretary each 
 congratulated the other heartily, and the latter, breaking into 
 one of his rare smiles, murmured gratefully, "At last ! And our 
 enemies have lost a champion!" 
 
 The night before the ordination Jose had begged to occupy 
 a room alone. The appeal which emanated from his sad face, 
 his thin and stooping body, his whole drawn and tortured being, 
 would have melted flint. His request was granted. Throughout 
 the night the boy, on his knees beside the little bed, wrestled 
 with the emotions which were tearing his soul. Despondency 
 lay over him like a pall. A vague presentiment of impending 
 disaster pressed upon him like a millstone. Ceaselessly he 
 weighed and reviewed the forces which had combined to drive 
 him into the inconsistent position which he now occupied. In- 
 consistent, for his highest ideal had been truth. He was by 
 nature consecrated to it. He had sought it diligently in the 
 Church, and now that he was about to become her priest he 
 could not make himself believe that he had found it. Now, 
 when bound to her altars, he faced a life of deception, of false- 
 hood, as the champion of a faith which he could not unre- 
 servedly embrace. 
 
 But he had accepted his education from the Church; and 
 would he shrink from making payment therefor? Yet, on the 
 other hand, must he sacrifice honor — ^yea, his whole future — to 
 the payment of a debt forced upon him before he had reached 
 the age of reason? The oath of ordination, the priest's oath, 
 echoed in his throbbing ears like a soul-sentence to eternal 
 doom; while spectral shades of moving priests and bishops, lay- 
 
 53 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ing cold and unfeeling hands upon him, sealing him to endless 
 servitude to superstition and deception, glided to and fro 
 through the darkness before his straining eyes. Could he re- 
 ceive the ordination to-morrow? He had promised— but the 
 assumption of its obligations -would brand his shrinking soul 
 ■with torturing falsehood ! If he sank under doubt and fear, 
 could he still retract? What then of his mother and his prom- 
 ise to her? What of the Rincon honor and pride? Living dis- 
 grace, or a living lie — ^which? Sacrifice of self — or mother? 
 God knew, he had never deliberately countenanced a falsehood 
 — ^yet, through circumstances which he did not have the will 
 to control, he was a living one! 
 
 Fair visions of a life untrammeled by creed or religious con- 
 vention hovered at times that night before his mental gaze. He 
 saw a cottage, rose-bowered, glowing in the haze of the summer 
 sun. He saw before its door a woman, fresh and fair — his wife 
 — and children — his — shouting their joyous greetings as they 
 trooped out to welcome him returning from his day's labors. 
 How he clung to this picture when it faded and left him, an 
 oath-bound celibate, facing his lonely and cheerless destiny! 
 God! what has the Church to offer for such sacrifice as this! 
 An education? Yea, an induction into relative truths and mor- 
 tal opinions, and the sad record of the devious wanderings of 
 the human mind! An opportunity for service? God knows, 
 the free, unhampered mind, open to truth and progress, loosed 
 from mediaeval dogma and ignorant convention, seeing its 
 brothers' needs and meeting in them its own, has opportunities 
 for rich service to-day outside the Church the like of which 
 have never before been offered! 
 
 To and fro his heaving thought ebbed and flowed. Back and 
 forth the arguments, pro and con, surged through the still hours 
 of the night. After all, had he definite proof that the tenets of 
 Holy Church were false? No, he could not honestly say that he 
 had. The question still stood in abeyance. Even his conviction 
 of their falsity at times had sorely wavered. And if his heart 
 cried out against their acceptance, it nevertheless had nothing 
 tangibly definite to offer in substitution. But — the end had 
 come so suddenly ! With his life free and untrammeled he might 
 yet find the truth. Oath-bound and limited to the strictures of 
 the Church, what hope was there but the acceptance of pre- 
 scribed canons of human belief? Still, the falsities which he 
 believed he had found within the Church were not greater than 
 those against which she herself fought in the world. And if 
 she accepted him, did it not indicate on her part a tacit recogni- 
 tion of the need of just what he had to offer, a searching spirit 
 of inquiry and consecration to the unfoldment of truth? Alas! 
 
 54 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the incident of the Greek translation threw its shadow of doubt 
 upon that hope. 
 
 But if the Church accepted him, she must accept his stand! 
 He would raise his voice in protest, and would continually point 
 to the truth as he discerned it! If he received the order of 
 priesthood from her it was with the understanding that his ac- 
 ceptance of her tenets was tentative! But — forlorn expedient! 
 He knew something of ecclesiastical history. He thought he 
 knew — ^young as he was — that the Church stood not for prog- 
 ress, not for conformity to changing ideals, not for alignment 
 with the world's great reforms, but for herself, first, midst, and 
 last! 
 
 Thus the conflict raged, while thoughts, momentous for 
 even a mature thinker, tore through the mind of this lad of 
 twenty. Prayers for light — ^prayers which would have rent the 
 heart Of an Ivan — burst at times from the feverish lips of this 
 child of circumstance. Infinite Father — Divine Influence — 
 Spirit of Love — whatever Thou art — wilt Thou not illumine the 
 thought-processes of this distracted youth and thus provide the 
 way of escape from impending destruction? Can it be Thy 
 will that this fair mind shall be utterly crushed? Do the agon- 
 ized words of appeal which rise to Thee from his riven soul fall 
 broken against ears of stone? 
 
 "Occupy till I come!" Yea, beloved Master, he hears thy 
 voice and strives to obey — ^bnt the night is filled with terror— 
 the clouds of error lower about him — the storm bursts — and 
 thou art not there! • 
 
 Day dawned. A classmate, sent to summon the lad, roused 
 him from the fitful sleep into which he had sunk on the cold 
 floor. His mind was no longer active. Dumbly following his 
 preceptors at the appointed hour, he proceeded with the class 
 to the chapel. Dimly conscious of his surroundings, his thought 
 befogged as if in a dream, his eyes half-blinded by the gray 
 haze which seemed to hang before them, he celebrated the Mass, 
 like one under hypnosis, received the holy orders, and assumed 
 the obligations which constituted him a priest of Holy Church. 
 
 CHAPTER 8 
 
 ON a sweltering midsummer afternoon, a year after the 
 events just related, Rome lay panting for breath and 
 counting the interminable hours which must elapse before 
 the unpitying sun would grant her a short night's respite from 
 her discomfort. Her streets were deserted by all except those 
 
 55 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Speaking to her in her own language, the priest sought to 
 soothe the child and learn her identity as he carried her to the 
 edge of the park and out into the street. But his efforts were 
 unavailing. She could only sob hysterically and call piteously 
 for her mother. A civil guard appeared at the street corner, 
 and the priest summoned him. But scarcely had he reported 
 the details of the accident when, suddenly uttering a cry, the 
 priest thrust the girl into the arms of the astonished officer and 
 fled back to the bench where he had been sitting. Another cry 
 escaped him when he reached it. Throwing himself upon the 
 grass, he searched beneath the bench and explored the 
 ground about it. Then, his face blanched with fear, he rose 
 and traversed the entire park, questioning every occupant. The 
 gamins who had caused the accident had fled. The beggar, too, 
 had disappeared. The park was all but deserted. Returning 
 again to the bench, the priest sank upon it and buried his head 
 in his hands, groaning aloud. A few minutes later he abruptly 
 rose and, glancing furtively around as if he feared to be seen, 
 hastened out to the street. Then, darting into a narrow cross- 
 road, he disappeared in the direction of the Vatican. 
 
 At midnight, Padre Jose de Rincon was still pacing the floor 
 of his room, frantic with apprehension. At the same hour, the 
 small girl who had so unwittingly plunged him into the gravest 
 danger was safely asleep in her mother's arms on the night 
 express, which shrieked and thundered on its way to Lucerne. 
 
 CHAPTER 9 
 
 ALWAYS as a child Jose had been the tortured victim of a 
 vague, unformed apprehension of impending disaster, a 
 presentiment that some day a great evil would befall him. 
 The danger beforewhich he now grew white with fear seemed to 
 realize that fatidic thought, and hang suspended above him on 
 a filament more tenuous than the hair which held aloft the 
 fabled sword of Damocles. That filament was the slender 
 chance that the notebook with which he was occupied when the 
 terrified child precipitated herself into the river, and which 
 he had hastily dropped on seeing her plight and rushing to the 
 rescue, had been picked up by those who would consider its, 
 value ml as an instrument of either good or evil. Before the 
 accident occurred he had been absorbed in his writing and was 
 unaware of other occupants of the park than himself and the 
 children, whose boisterous romping in such close proximity had 
 scarce interrupted his occupation. Then their frightened cries 
 
 58 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 roused him to an absorbing sense of the girl's danger. Nor 
 did he think again of the notebook until he was relating the 
 details of the accident to the guard at .the edge of the park, 
 -when, like a blow from above, the thought of it struck him. 
 
 Trembling with dread anticipation, he had hurried back to 
 the bench, only to find his fears realized. The book had dis- 
 appeared! His frenzied search yielded no hint of its probable 
 mode of removal. Overcome by a sickening sense of misfor- 
 tune, he had sunk upon the bench in despair. But fear again 
 roused him and drove him, slinking like a hunted beast, from 
 the park — fear that the possessor of the book, appreciating its 
 contents, but with no thought of returning it, might be hovering 
 near, with the view of seeing what manner of priest it could 
 be who would thus carelessly leave such writings as these in 
 the public parks and within the very shadow of St. Peter's. 
 
 But to escape immediate identification as their author did 
 not remove his danger. Their character was such that, should 
 they fall into certain hands, his identity must surely be estab- 
 lished. Even though his name did not appear, they abounded 
 in references which could hardly fail to point to him. But, far 
 worse, they cited names of personages high in political and 
 ecclesiastical circles in, references which, should they become 
 public, must inevitably set in motion forces whose far-reaching 
 and disastrous effects he dared not even imagine. 
 
 For the notebook contained the soul-history of the man. It 
 was the journal intime which he had begun as a youth, and con- 
 tinued and amplified through succeeding years. It was the 
 repository of his inmost thoughts, the receptacle of his "secret 
 convictions. It held, crystallized in writing, his earliest pro- 
 tests against the circumstances which were molding his life. 
 It voiced the subsequent agonized outpourings of his soul when 
 the holy order of priesthood was conferred upon him. It re- 
 corded his views of life, of religion, of the cosmos. It held in 
 burning words his thoughts anent the Holy Catholic faith — his 
 sense of its virtues, its weaknesses, its assumptions, its fallacies. 
 It set forth his confession of helplessness before circumstances 
 too strong for his feeble will, and it cited therewith, as partial 
 justification for his conduct, his tender love for his mother and 
 h'.s firm intention of keeping forever inviolable his promises 
 to her. It voiced his passionate prayers for light, and his dim 
 hopes for the future, while portraying the wreck of a life whose 
 elements had been too complex for him to sift and classify and 
 combine in their normal proportions. 
 
 A year had passed since the unhappy lad had opened his 
 mouth to receive the iron bit which Destiny had pressed so 
 mercilessly against it. During that time the Church had con- 
 
 59 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 scientiously carried out her program as announced to him just 
 prior to his ordination. Associated with the Papal Legate, he 
 had traveled extensively through Europe, his impressionable 
 mind avidly absorbing the customs, languages, and thought- 
 processes of many lands. At Lourdes he had stood in deep 
 meditation before the miraculous shrine, surrounded with its 
 piles of discarded canes and crutches, and wondered what 
 could be the principle, human or divine, that had effected such 
 cures. In Naples he had witnessed the miraculous liquefaction 
 of the blood of St. Januarius. He had seen the priests pass 
 through the great assemblage with the little vial in which the 
 red clot slowly dissolved into liquid before their credulous 
 eyes; and he had turned away that they might not mark his 
 flush of shame. In the Cathedral at Cologne he had gazed long 
 at the supposed skulls of the three Magi who had worshiped 
 at the rude cradle of the Christ. Set in brilliant jewels, in a 
 resplendent gilded shrine, these whitened relics, which Bishop 
 Reinald is believed to have discovered in the twelfth century, 
 seemed to mock him in the very boldness of the pious fraud 
 which they externalized. Was the mystery of the Christ in- 
 volved in such deceit as this? And perpetrated by his Church? 
 In unhappy Ireland he had been forced to the conviction that 
 misdirected religious zeal must some day urge the sturdy Pro- 
 testers of the North into armed conflict with their Catholic 
 brothers of the South in another of those deplorable religious 
 — nay, rather, theological — conflicts which have stained the 
 earth with human blood in the name of the Prince of Peace. 
 It was all incomprehensible to him, incongruous, and damnably 
 wicked. Why could not they come together to submit their 
 creeds, their religious beliefs and tenets, to the test of practical 
 demonstration, and then discard those which world-history has 
 long since shown inimical to progress and happiness? Paul 
 urged this very thing when he wrote, "Prove all things; hold 
 fast to that which is good." But, alas ! the human doctrine of 
 infallibility now stood squarely in the way. 
 
 From his travels with the Legate, Jose returned to Rome, 
 burning with the holy desire to lend his influence to the institu- 
 tion of those reforms within the Church of which now he so 
 clearly saw the need. Savonarola had. burned with this same 
 selfless desire to reform the Church from within. And his life 
 became the forfeit. But the present age was perforce more 
 tolerant; and was likewise wanting in those peculiar political 
 conditions which had combined with the religious issue to 
 send the great reformer to a martyr's death. 
 
 As Jose entered Rome he found the city in a state of tur- 
 moil. The occasion was the march of the Catholic gymnastic 
 
 60 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 associations from the cliurch where they had heard the Mass 
 to St. Peter's, where they were to be received by the Holy 
 Father. Cries of "Long live free-thinking!" were issuing from 
 the rabble which followed hooting in the wake of the pro- 
 cession. To these were retorted, "Viva il Papa Re!" Jose had 
 been caught in the milee, and, but for the interference of the 
 civil authorities, might have suffered bodily injury. With his 
 corporeal bruises he now bore away another ineffaceable mental 
 impression. Were the Italian patriots justified in their hostil- 
 ity toward the Vatican? Had United Italy come into existence 
 with the support of the Papacy, or in despite of it? Would 
 the Church forever set herself against freedom of thought? 
 Always seek to imprison the human mind? Was her unreason- 
 ably stubborn attitude directly accountable for the presence of 
 atheism in the place, of all places, where her own influence 
 ought to be most potent, the city of St. Peter? 
 
 For reasons which he could only surmise — perhaps because 
 of his high scholarship — ^perhaps because of his remarkable 
 memory, which constituted him a living encyclopedia in re- 
 spect of all that entered it — Jose was now installed in the office 
 of the Papal Secretary of State as an office assistant. He had 
 received the appointment with indifference, for he was wholly 
 devoid of ecclesiastical ambition. And yet it was with a sense 
 of relief that he now felt assured of a career in the service of 
 the Administrative Congregation of the Church, and for all 
 time removed from the likelihood of being relegated to the 
 performance of merely priestly functions. He therefore pre- 
 pared to bide his time, and patiently to await opportunities to 
 lend his willing support to the uplift of the Church and his 
 fellow-men. 
 
 The limitations with which he had always been hedged 
 about had not permitted the lad to know much, if anything, of 
 the multitude of books on religious and philosophical subjects 
 annually published throughout the world; and his oath of 
 obedience would have prevented him from reading them if he 
 had. But he saw no reason why, as part preparation for his 
 work of moral uplift, he should not continue to seek, at first 
 hand, the answer to the world-stirring query, What does the 
 Bible mean? If God gave it, if the theory of verbal inspiration 
 is correct, and if it is infallible, why then was it necessary to 
 revise it, as had been done in the wonderful Jerusalem Chamber 
 which he had once visited? Were those of his associatesjusti- 
 fied who had scoffed at that work, and, with a sneer on their 
 lips, voiced the caustic query, "Fools! Why don't they let the 
 Bible alone?" If the world is to be instructed out of the old 
 sensual theology, does the Bible contain the truth with which to 
 
 61 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 replace it? For to tear down an ideal without substituting for 
 it a better one is nothing short of criminal. And so Jose 
 plunged deeply into the study of Scriptural sources. 
 
 He had thought the rich treasures of the Vatican library 
 unrestrictedly open to him, and he therefore brought his fine 
 Latin and Greek scholarship to bear on its oldest uncial manu- 
 scripts. He began the study of Hebrew, that he might later 
 read the Talmud and the ancient Jewish rabbinical lore. He 
 pursued unflaggingly his studies of the English, French, and 
 German languages, that he might search for the truth crystal- 
 lized in those tongues. As his work progressed, the flush of 
 health came to his cheeks. His eyes reflected the consuming 
 flre which glowed in his eager soul. As he labored, he wrote; 
 and his discoveries and meditations all found lodgment in his 
 sole confidant, his journal. 
 
 If the Church knew what Christianity was, then Jose was 
 forced to admit that he did not. He, weak, frail, fallible, remit 
 sins? Preposterous! What was the true remission of sins 
 but their utter destruction? He change the wafer and wine 
 into the flesh and blood of Jesus? Nay, he was no spiritual 
 thaumaturgus ! He could not do even the least of the works of 
 the Master, despite his priestly character ! Yet, it was not he, 
 but the Christ, operating through him as a channel, who per- 
 formed the work. Then why did not the Christ through him 
 heal the sick and raise the dead? "Nay," he deplored, as he 
 bent over his task, "the Church may teach that the bones, the 
 teeth, the hair, and other human relics of canonized Saints can 
 heal the sick — ^but even the Cardinals and the Holy Father 
 whep they fall ill demand the services, not of these, but of 
 earthly physicians. They seek not the Christ-healing then; 
 nor can they by their boasted powers heal themselves." 
 
 Israel's theme was: Righteousness is salvation. But Jose 
 knew not how to define righteousness. Surely it did not mean 
 adherence to human creeds! It was vastly more than observ- 
 ance of forms! "God is a spirit," he read; "and they that 
 worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth." Then, 
 voicing his own comments, "Why, then, this crass materializing 
 of worship? Are images of Saviour, Virgin, and Saint necessary 
 to excite the people to devotion? Nay, would not the healing 
 of the sick, the restoration of sight to the blind, and the per- 
 formance of the works of the Master by us priests do more 
 than wooden or marble images to lead men to worship? Proof I 
 proof ! proof ! 'Show us your works, and we will show you our 
 faith,' cry the people. 'Then will we no longer sacrifice our 
 independence of thiought to the merciless tyranny of human 
 tradition.' " And he knew that this" related to Catholic and 
 Protestant, Jew and Mohammedan alike. 
 
 62 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 One day a Cardinal, passing through the library, saw the 
 diligent student at work, and paused 4o inquire into his labors. 
 "And what do you seek, my son?" was the kindly query of the 
 aged churchman. 
 
 "Scriptural justification for the fundamental tenets of our 
 faith," Jose replied quickly, carried away by his soul's anima- 
 tion. 
 
 "And you find it, without doubt?" 
 
 "Nay, Father, except through what is, to me, unwarranted 
 license and assumption." 
 
 The Cardinal silently continued his way. But permission 
 to translate further from the Vatican manuscripts was that 
 day withdrawn from Jose* 
 
 Again the youth lapsed into his former habit of moody revery. 
 Shackled and restless, driven anew into himself, he increasingly 
 poured his turbulent thought into his journal, not for other 
 and profane eyes to read — hardly, either, for his own reference 
 — but simply because he must have some outlet for the ex- 
 pression of his heaving mind. He turned to it, as he had in 
 other crises in his life, when his pent soul cried out for some 
 form of relief. He began to revise the record of the impressions 
 received on his travels with the Papal Legate. He recorded 
 conversations and impressions of scenes and people which his 
 abnormally developed reticence would not permit him to dis- 
 cuss verbally with his associates. He embodied his protests 
 against the restrictions of ecclesiastical authority. And he 
 noted, too, many a protest against the political, rather than 
 religious, character of much of th& business transacted in the 
 office to which he was attached. In the discharge of his ordi- 
 nary duties he necessarily became acquainted with much of 
 the inner administrative polity of the Vatican, and thus at 
 times he learned of policies which stirred his alien soul to 
 revolt. In his inferior position he could not hope to raise his 
 voice in protest against these measures which excited his in- 
 dignation; but in the loneliness of his room, or on his frequent 
 long walks after office hours, he was wont to brood over them 
 until his mind became surcharged and found relief only in 
 emptying itself into this journal. And often on summer days, 
 when the intense heat rendered his little room in the dormitory 
 uninhabitable, he would take his books and papers to some one 
 of the smaller "parks lining the Tiber, and there would lose 
 himself in study and meditation and the recording of the 
 ceaseless voicing of his lonely soul. 
 
 On this particular afternoon, however, his mind had been 
 occupied with matters of more than ordinary import. It hap- 
 pened that a Bishop from the United States had arrived in 
 
 63 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Rome the preceding day to pay his decennial visit to the Vatican 
 and report on the spiritual condition of his diocese. While 
 awaiting the return of the Papal Secretary, he had engaged in 
 earnest conversation with a Cardinal-Bishop of the Adminis- 
 trative Congregation, in a small room adjoining the one where 
 Jose was occupied with his clerical duties. The talk had been 
 animated, and the heavy tapestry at the door had not prevented 
 much of it from reaching the ears of the young priest and 
 becoming fixed in his retentive memory. 
 
 "While I feel most keenly the persecution to which the 
 Church must submit in the United States," the Bishop had 
 said, "nevertheless Your Eminence will admit that there is 
 some ground for complaint in the conduct of certain of her 
 clergy. It is for the purpose of removing such vantage ground 
 from our critics- that I again urge an investigation of American 
 priests, with the view of improving their moral status.^' 
 
 "You say, 'persecution to which the Church must submit.' 
 Is that quite true?" returned the Cardinal-Bishop. "That is, 
 in the face of your own gratifying reports? News froni the 
 American field is not only encouraging, but highly stimulating. 
 The statistics which are just at hand from Monsignor, our 
 Delegate in Washington, reveal the truly astonishing growth 
 of our beloved cause for the restoration of all things in Christ. 
 Has not God shown even in our beloved America that our way 
 of worshiping Him is the way He approves?" 
 
 "But, Your Eminence, the constant defections! It was only 
 last week that a priest and- his entire congregation went over 
 to the Episcopal faith. And — " 
 
 "What of that? 'It must needs be that offenses come.' 
 Where one drops out, ten take his place." 
 
 "True, while we recruit our depleted ranks from the Old 
 World. But, with restricted immigration—" 
 
 "Which is not restricted, as yet," replied the Cardinal- 
 Bishop with a sapient smile. "Nor is there any restriction upon 
 the inspiration, political as well as spiritual, which the Ameri- 
 can Government draws from Rome — an inspiration much more 
 potent, I think, than our Protestant brethren would care to 
 admit." 
 
 "Is that inspiration such, think you, as to draw the Ameri- 
 can Government more and more into the hands of the Church?" 
 
 "Its effect in the past unquestionably has been such," said 
 the Cardinal-Bishop meditatively. 
 
 "And shall our dreams of an age be fulfilled — that the Holy 
 Father will throw off the shackles which now hold him a 
 prisoner within the Vatican, and that he will then personally 
 direct the carrying out of those policies of world expansion 
 which shall gather all mankind into the fold of Holy Church?" 
 
 64 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "There is a lessening doubt of it," was the tentative reply. 
 
 "And — " the Bishop hesitated. "And — shall we say that 
 those all-embracing policies ultimately will be directed by, the 
 Holy Father from Washington itself?" 
 
 A long pause ensued, during which Jose was all ears. 
 
 "Why not?" finally returned the Cardinal-Bishop slowly. 
 "Why not, if it should better suit our purposes? It may be- 
 come advisable to remove the Holy See from Rome." 
 
 "But— impossible!" 
 
 "Not at all — quite possible, though I will not say probable. 
 But let us see, can we not say that the time has arrived when 
 no President of the United States can be elected without the 
 Catholic vote? Having our vote, we have his pledges to support 
 our policies. These statistics before us show that already 
 seventy-five per cent of all Government employes in Washing- 
 ton are of our faith. We control Federal, State, County and 
 City offices without number. I think — I think the time is not 
 distant when we shall be able to set up a candidate of our 
 faith for the Presidency, if we care to. And," he mused, "we 
 shall elect him. But, all in good time, all in good time." 
 
 "And. is that," the Bishop interrogated eagerly, "what the 
 Holy Father is now contemplating?" 
 
 "I cannot say that it is," answered the noncommittal Cardi- 
 nal-Bishop. "But the Holy Father loves America. He rejoices 
 in your report of progress in your diocese. The successes at- 
 tained by Catholic candidates in the recent elections are most 
 gratifying to him. This not only testifies to the progress of 
 Catholicism in America, but is tangible proof of the growth of 
 tolerance and liberal-mindedness in that great nation. The 
 fact that the Catholic Mass is now being said in the American 
 army affords further proof." 
 
 "Yes," meditated the Bishop. . "Our candidates who receive 
 election are quite generally loyal to the Church." 
 
 "And should constitute a most potent factor in the holy 
 work of making America dominantly Catholic," added the older 
 man. 
 
 "True, Your Eminence. And yet, this great desideratum 
 can never come about until the youth are brought into the true 
 fold. And that means, as you well know, the abolishing of the 
 public school system." 
 
 "What think you of that?" asked the Cardinal-Bishop off- 
 handedly. 
 
 The Bishop waxed suddenly animated. A subject had been 
 broached which lay close to his heart. "The public schools 
 constitute a godless sink of pollution!" he replied heatedly. 
 "They are nurseries of vice ! They are part of an immoral and 
 
 65 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 vicious system of education which is undermining the religion 
 of American children! I have always contended that we, the 
 Holy Catholic Church, must control education! I hold that 
 education outside of the Church is heresy of the most dam- 
 nable kind ! We have heretofore weakly protested against this 
 pernicious system, but without success, excepting" — and here 
 he smiled cynically — "that we have very generally succeeded 
 in forcing the discontinuance of Bible reading in the public 
 sdhools. And in certain towns where our parochial schools do 
 not instruct beyond the eighth grade, it looks as if we might 
 force the introduction of a form of the Catholic Mass to be 
 read each morning in the High School," 
 
 "Excellent!" exclaimed the Cardinal-Bishop. "Your voice 
 thrills me like a trumpet call." 
 
 "I would it were such," cried the Bishop excitedly, "sum- 
 moning the faithful to strike a blow which shall be felt ! What 
 right have the United States, or any nation, to educate the 
 young? None whatever! Education belongs to the Church! 
 Our rights in this respect have been usurped! But they shall 
 be restored — if need be, at the point of the — " 
 
 "You positively make my old heart leap to the fray," in- 
 terrupted the smiling, white-haired churchman. 'T3ut I feel 
 assured that we shall accomplish just that without violence or 
 bloodshed, my son. You echo my sentiments exactly on the 
 pregnant question. And yet, by getting Catholics employed in 
 the public schools as teachers, and by electing our candidates 
 to public offices, we quietly accomplish our ends, do we not?" 
 
 "But when will the Holy Father recognize the time as pro- 
 pitious for a more decisive step in that respect?" 
 
 "Why, my son, I think you fail to see that we keep con- 
 tinually stepping. We are growing by leaps and bounds in 
 America. At the close of the War of Independence the United 
 States numbered some forty-five thousand adherents to the 
 Catholic faith. Now the number has increased to twelve or 
 fifteen millions. Of these, some four millions are voters. A 
 goodly number, is it not?" 
 
 "Then," cried the Bishop, "let the Holy Father boldly make 
 the demand that the States appropriate money for the support 
 of our parochial schools!" 
 
 Jose's ears throbbed. Before his ordination he had heard 
 the Liturgy for the conversion of America recited in the chapel 
 of the seminary. And as often he had sought to picture the 
 condition of the New World under the religio-political influence 
 which has for centuries dominated the Old. But he had always 
 dismissed the idea of such domination as wholly improbable, 
 if not quite impossible in America. Yet, since coming into 
 
 66 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the Papal Secretary's oflSce, his views were slowly undergoiag 
 revision. The Church was concentrating on America. Of that 
 there could be no doubt. Indeed, he had come to believe its 
 success as a future world-power to be a function of the stand 
 which it could secure and maintain in the United States. Now, 
 as he strained his ears, he could hear the aged Cardinal-Bishop's 
 low, tense words — 
 
 "There can be no real separation of Church and State. The 
 Church is not inferior to the civil power, nor is it in any way 
 dependent upon it. And the Church can never be excluded 
 from educating and training the young, from molding society, 
 from making laws, and governing, temporally and spiritually. 
 From this attitude we shall never depart! Ours is the only 
 true religion. England and Germany have been spiritually 
 dead. But, praise to the blessed Virgin who has heard our 
 prayers and made intercession for us, England, after long 
 centuries of struggle with man-made sects and indefinite dogma, 
 its spiritually-starving people fast drifting into atheism and in- 
 fidelity because of nothing to hold to, has awakened, and in 
 these first hours of her resurrection is fast returning to the 
 Holy Church of Rome. America, in these latter days, is rousing 
 from the blight of Puritanism, Protestantism, and their inevita- 
 ble result, free-thinking and anarchy, and is becoming the 
 brightest jewel in the Papal crown." 
 
 The Bishop smiled dubiously. . "And yet. Your Eminence," 
 he replied, "we are heralded from one end of the land to the 
 other as a menace to Republican institutions." 
 
 "Ah, true. And you must agree that Romanism is a distinct 
 menace to the insane license of speech and press. It is a 
 decided menace to the insanity of Protestantism. But," he 
 added archly, while his eyes twinkled, "I have no doubt that 
 when Catholic education has advanced a little further many 
 of your American preachers, editors, and Chautauqua dema- 
 gogues will find themselves behind the bars of madhouses. 
 Fortunately, that editor of the prominent American magazine 
 of which you were speaking switched from his heretic Episcopal 
 faith in time to avoid this unpleasant consequence." ' 
 
 The Bishop reflected for a moment. Then, deliberately, as 
 if meditating the great import of his words, "Your Eminence, 
 in view of our strength, and our impregnable position as God's 
 chosen, cannot the Holy Father insist that the United States 
 mails be barred against the infamous publications that so basely 
 vilify our Church?" 
 
 "And thereby precipitate a revolution?" It was the firm 
 voice of the Papal Secretary himself, who at that moment 
 entered the room. 
 
 67 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "But, Monsignor," said the Bishop, as he rose and saluted 
 the newcomer, "how much longer must we submit to the gross 
 injustice and indignities practiced upon us by non-believers?" 
 
 "As long as the infallible Holy Father directs," replied that 
 eminent personage. "Obey him, as you. would God himself," 
 the Secretary continued. "And teach your flock to do likewise. 
 The ballot will do for us in America what armed resistance 
 never could. Listen, friend, my finger is on the religious pulse 
 of the world. Nowhere does this pulse beat as strongly as in 
 that part which we call the United States. For years I have 
 been watching the various contending forces in that country, 
 diligently and earnestly studying the elements acting and re- 
 acting upon our Church there. I have come to the conclusion 
 that the success of Holy Church throughout the world depends 
 upon its advance in the United States during the next few 
 years. I have become an American enthusiast! The glorious 
 work of making America Catholic is so fraught with conse- 
 quences of vastest import that my blood surges with the enthu- 
 siasm of an old Crusader! But there is much still to be done. 
 America is a field white for the harvest, almost unobstructed." 
 
 "Then," queried the Bishop, "you do not reckon Protestant- 
 ism an obstruction?" 
 
 "Protestantism!" the Secretary rejoined with a cynical 
 laugh. "No, I reckon it as nothing. Protestantism in America 
 is decadent. It has split, divided, and disintegrated, until it is 
 scarcely recognizable. Its adherents are falling away in great 
 numbers. Its weak tenets and senile faith hold but compara- 
 tively few and lukewarm supporters. It has degenerated into 
 a sort of social organization, with musicals, pink teas, and 
 church suppers as attractions. No, America is bound to be 
 classed as a Catholic nation — and I expect to live to see it thus. 
 Our material and spiritual progress in the United States is 
 amazing, showing how nobly American Catholics have re- 
 sponded to the Holy Father's appeal. New dioceses are spring- 
 ing up evei-ywhere. Churches are multiplying with astonishing 
 rapidity. The discouraging outlook in Europe is more, far 
 more, than counterbalanced by our wonderful progress in the 
 United States, We might say that the Vatican now rests Upon 
 American backs, for the United States send more Peter's Pence 
 to Rome than all other Catholic countries together. We prac- 
 tically control her polls and her press. America was discovered 
 by Christopher Columbus, a Catholic in the service of a Catholic 
 ruler. It is Catholic in essence, and it shall so be recognized! 
 The Holy Catholic Church always has been and always will be 
 the sole and only Christian authority. The Catholic religion 
 by rights ought to be, and ultimately shall be, the exclusively 
 
 68 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 dominant religion of the world, and every other sort of worship 
 shall be banished — interdicted — destroyed!" 
 
 For a while Jos6 heard no more. His ears burned and his 
 brain throbbed. He had become conscious of but one all- 
 absorbing thought, the fact of his vassalage to a world-embrac- 
 ing political system, working in the name of the Christ. Not 
 a new thought, by any means — ^indeed an old one, often held — 
 but now driven home to him ftiost emphatically. He forgot his 
 clerical duties and sank into profound revery on his incon- 
 sistent position in the office of the highest functionary of Holy 
 Church aside from the Supreme Pontiff himself. 
 
 He was aroused at length from his meditations by the de- 
 parture of the American Bishop. "It is true, as you report," 
 the Papal Secretary was saying earnestly. "America seems 
 rife with modernism. Free-masonry, socialism, and countless 
 other fads and religious superstitions are widely prevalent 
 there. Nor do I underestimate their strength and influence. 
 And yet, I fear them not. There are also certain freak re- 
 ligions, philosophical beliefs, wrung from the simple teachings 
 of our blessed Saviour, the rapid spread of which at one time 
 did give me some concern. The Holy Father mentioned one 
 or two of them to-day, in reference to his contemplated ency- 
 clical on modernism. But I now see that they are cults based 
 upon human personality; and with their leaders removed, the 
 fabrics will of themselves crumble." 
 
 He took leave of the Bishop, and turned again to address the 
 Cardinal-Bishop within. "A matter of the gravest import has 
 arisen," he began in a low voice; "and one that may directly 
 affect our negotiations in regard to the support which the Holy 
 Father will need in case he issues a pronunciamento that 
 France, Spain, and Austria shall no longer exercise the right of 
 veto in papal elections. That rumor regarding Isabella's 
 daughter is again afloat. I have summoned Father Rafael de 
 Rincon to Rome to state what he knows. But — " He rose and 
 looked out through the door at Jose, bending over his littered 
 desk. Then he went back, and resumed his conversation with 
 the Cardinal-Bishop, but in a tone so low that Jose could catch 
 only disconnected scraps. 
 
 "What, Colombia?" he at length heard the Cardinal-Bishop 
 exclaim. 
 
 "Yes," was the Secretary's reply. "And presumably at the 
 instigation of that busybody, Wenceslas Ortiz. Though what 
 concern he might have in the Infanta is to me incomprehensible 
 — assuming, of course, that there is such a royal daughter." 
 
 "But — Colombia elects a President soon, is it not so?" 
 
 "On the eve of election now," replied the Secretary. "And 
 
 69 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 if the influence of Wenceslas with the Bishop of Cartagena is 
 what I am almost forced to admit that it is, then the election 
 is in his hands. But, the Infanta — " The sound of his voice 
 did not carry the rest of his words to Jose's itching ears. 
 
 An hour later the Secretary and the Cardinal-Bishop came 
 out of the room and left the office together. "Yes," the Secre- 
 tary was saying, "in the case of Wenceslas it was 'pull and 
 percuniam' that secured him his place. The Church did not 
 put him there." 
 
 The Car'dinal-Bishop laughed genially. "Then the Holy 
 Ghost was not consulted, I take it," he said. 
 
 "No," replied the Secretary grimly. "And he has so com- 
 plicated the already delicate situation in Colombia that I fear 
 Congress will table the bill prohibiting Free-masonry. It is to 
 be deplored. Among all the Latin Republics none has been 
 more thoroughly Catholic than Colombia." 
 
 "Is the Holy Father's unpublished order regarding the sale 
 and distribution of Bibles loyally observed there?" queried the 
 Car dinal-Bi shop . 
 
 The door closed upon them and Jose heard no more. His 
 day's duties ended, he went to his room to write and reflect. 
 But the intense afternoon heat again drove him forth to seek 
 what comfort he might near the river. With his notebook in 
 hand he went to the little park, as was his frequent wont. An 
 hour or so later, while he was jotting down his remembrance of 
 the conversation just overheard, together with his own caustic 
 and protesting opinions, his absorption was broken by the 
 strange child's accident. A few minutes later the notebook had 
 disappeared. 
 
 And now the thought of all this medley of personal material - 
 and secret matters of Church polity falling into the hands of 
 those who might make capital of it, and thereby drag the 
 Rincon honor through the mire, cast the man prostrate in 
 the dust. 
 
 CHAPTER 10 
 
 DAYS passed — days whose every dawn found the priest 
 staring in sleepless, wide-eyed terror at the ceiling above 
 — days crowded with torturing apprehension and sicken- 
 ing suggestion — days when his knees quaked and his hands 
 shook when his superiors addressed him in the performance 
 of Tiis customary duties. No mental picture was too frightful 
 or abhorrent for him to entertain as portraying a possible con- 
 sequence of the loss of his journal. He cowered in agony be- 
 
 70 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 fore these visions. He dared not seek the little park again. 
 He feared to show himself in the streets. He dreaded the short 
 walk from his dormitory to the Vatican. His life became a 
 sustained torture — a consuming agony of uncertainty, intermi- 
 nable suspense, fearful foreboding. The cruelty of his position 
 corroded him. His health suffered, and his cassock hung like a 
 bag about his emaciated form. 
 
 Then the filament snapped and the sword fell. On a dismal, 
 rainy morning, some two months after the incident in the 
 park, Jose was summoned into the private office of the Papal 
 Secretary of State. As the priest entered the small room the 
 Secretary, sitting alone at his desk, turned and looked at him 
 long and fixedly. 
 
 "So, my son," he said in a voice that froze the priest's blood, 
 "you are still alive?" Then, taking up a paper-covered book 
 of medium size which apparently he had been reading, he held 
 it out without comment. 
 
 Jose took it mechanically. The book was crudely printed 
 and showed evidence of having been hastily issued. It came 
 from the press of a Viennese publisher, and bore the startling 
 title, "Confessions of a Roman Catholic Priest." As in a dream 
 Jose opened it. A cry escaped him, and the book fell from his 
 hands. It was his journal! 
 
 There are sometimes crises in human lives when the storm- 
 spent mind, tossing on the waves of heaving emotion, tugs and 
 strains at the ties which moor it to reason, until they snap, 
 and it sweeps out into the unknown, where blackness and 
 terror rage above the fathomless deep. Such a crisis had 
 entered the life of the unhappy priest, who now held in his 
 shaking hand the garljled publication of his life's most sacred 
 thoughts. Into whose hands his notes had fallen on that black 
 day when he had sacrificed everything for an unknown child, 
 he knew not. How they had made their way into Austria, and 
 into the pressroom of the heretical modernist who had gleefully 
 issued them, twisted, exaggerated, but unabridged, he might 
 not even imagine. The terrible fact remained that there in his 
 hands they stared up at him in hideous mockery, his soul-con- 
 victions, his heart's deepest and most inviolable thoughts, de- 
 tails of his own personal history, secrets of state — all ruth- 
 lessly exposed to the world's vulgar curiosity and the rapacity 
 of those who would not fail to play them up to the certain 
 advantages to which they lent themselves all too well. 
 
 And there before him, too, were the Secretary's sharp eyes, 
 burning into his very soul. He essayed to speak, to rise to his 
 own defense. But his throat filled, and the words which he 
 would utter died on his trembling lips. The room whirled about 
 
 71 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 him. Floods of memory began to sweep over him in huge 
 billows. The conflicting forces which had culminated in plac- 
 ing him in the paradoxical position in which he now stood 
 raced before him in confused review. Objects lost their definite 
 outlines and melted into the haze which rose before his strain- 
 ing eyes. All things at last merged into the terrible presence 
 of the Papal Secretary, as he slowly rose, tall and gaunt, and 
 with arm extended and long, bony finger pointing to the yellow 
 river in the distance, said in words whose cruel suggestion 
 scorched the raw soul of the suffering priest: 
 
 "My son, be advised: the Tiber covers many sins." 
 Then pitying oblivion opened wide her arms, and the tired 
 priest sank gently into them. 
 
 CHAPTER 11 
 
 ROME again lay scorching beneath a merciless summer sun. 
 But the energetic uncle of Jose was not thereby restrained 
 from making another hurried visit to the Vatican. What 
 his mission was does not appear in papal records; but, like the 
 one which he found occasion to make just prior to the ordina- 
 tion of his nephew, this visit was not extended to include Josd, 
 who throughout that enervating summer lay tossing in de- 
 lirium in the great hospital of th,e Santo Spirito. We may be 
 sure, however, that its Influence upon the disposition of the 
 priest's case after the recent denoument was not inconsiderable, 
 and that it was largely responsible for his presence before the 
 Holy Father himself when, after weeks of racking fever, wan 
 and emaciated, and leaning upon the arm of the confidential 
 valet of His Holiness, the young priest faced that august per- 
 sonage and heard the infallible judgment of the Holy See upon 
 his unfortunate conduct. 
 
 On the throne of St. Peter, in the heavily tapestried private 
 audience room of the great Vatican prison-palace, and guarded 
 from intrusion by armed soldiery and hosts of watchful eccle- 
 siastics of all grades, sat the Infallible Council, the Vicar- 
 General of the humble Nazarene, the aged leader at whose beck 
 a hundred million faithful followers bent in lowly genuflection. 
 Near him stood the Papal Secretary of State and two Cardinal- 
 Bishops of the Administrative Congregation. 
 
 Jose dragged himself wearily before the Supreme Pontiff 
 and bent low. 
 
 "Benedicite, my erring son." The soft voice of His Holiness 
 floated not unmusically through the tense silence of the room. 
 
 . 72 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Arise. The hand of the Lord already has been laid heavily 
 upon you in wholesome chastening for your part in this de- 
 plorable affair. And the same omnipotent hand has been 
 stretched forth to prevent the baneful effects of your thought- 
 less conduct. We do not condemn you, my son. It was the 
 work of the Evil One, who has ever found through your weak- 
 nesses easy access to your soul." 
 
 Jose -raised his blurred eyes and gazed at the Holy Father 
 in perplexed astonishment. But the genial countenance of the 
 patriarch seemed to confirm his mild words. A smile, tender 
 and patronizing, in which Jose read forgiveness — and yet with 
 it a certain undefined something which augured conditions 
 upon which alone penalty for his culpability would be remitted 
 — lighted up the pale features of the Holy Father and warmed 
 the frozen life-currents of the shrinking priest. 
 
 "My son," the Pontiff continued tenderly, "our love for our 
 wandering children is but stimulated by their need of our pro- 
 tecting care. Fear not; the guilty publisher of your notes has 
 been awakened to his fault, and the book which he so thought- 
 lessly issued has been quite suppressed." 
 
 Jose bent his head and patiently awaited the conclusion. 
 
 "You have lain for weeks at death's door, my son. The 
 words which you uttered in your delirium corroborated our 
 own thought of your innocence of intentional wrong. And 
 now that you have regained your reason, you will confess to us 
 that your reports, and especially your account of the recent 
 conversation between the Cardinal-Secretary of State and the 
 Cardinal-Bishop, were written under that depression of mind 
 which has long afflicted you, producing a form of mental de- 
 rangement, and giving rise to frequent hallucination. It is this 
 which has caused us to extend to you our sympathy and pro- 
 tection. Long and intense study, family sorrow, and certain 
 inherited traits of disposition, whose rapid development have 
 tended to lack of normal mental balance, account to us for 
 those deeds of eccentricity on your part which have plunged 
 us into extreme embarrassment and yourself into the illness 
 which threatened your young life. Is it not so, my son?" 
 
 The priest stared up at the speaker in bewilderment. This 
 unexpected turn of affairs had swept his defense from his mind. 
 
 "The Holy Father awaits your reply," the Papal Secretary 
 spoke with severity. His own thought had been greatly ruffled 
 that morning, and his patience severely taxed by a threatened 
 mutiny among the Swiss guards, whose demands in regard to 
 the quantity of wine allowed them and whose memorial re- 
 counting other alleged grievances he had just flatly rejected. 
 The muffled cries of "Viva Garibaldi!" as the petitioners left 
 
 73 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 his presence were still echoing in the Secretary's ears, and his 
 anger had scarce begun to cool. 
 
 "We are patient, my Cardinal-Nephew," the Pontiff resumed 
 mildly. "Our love for this erring son enfolds him." Then, 
 turning again to Jose, "We have correctly summarized the 
 causes of your recent conduct, have we not?" 
 
 The priest made as if to reply, but hesitated, with the words 
 fluttering on his lips. 
 
 "My dear son" — the Holy Father bent toward the wondering 
 priest in an attitude of loving solicitation — "our blessed Saviour 
 was ofttimes confronted with those possessed of demons. Did 
 he reject them? No; and, despite the accusations against us 
 in j'our writings, for which we know you were not morally 
 responsible, we, Christ's representative on earth, are still 
 touched with his love and pity for one so unfortunate as you. 
 With your help we shall stop the mouths of calumny, and set 
 you right before the world. We shall use our great resources 
 to save the Rincon honor which, through the working of Satan 
 within you, is now unjustly besmirched. We shall labor to 
 restore you to your right mind, and to the usefulness which 
 your scholarly gifts make possible to you. We indeed rejoice 
 that your piteous appeal has reached our ears. We rejoice 
 to correct those erroneous views which you, in the temporary 
 aberration of reason, were driven to commit to writing, and 
 which so unfortunately fell into the hands of Satan's alert 
 emissaries. Your ravings during these weeks of delirium shed 
 much light upon the obsessing thoughts which plunged you into 
 mild insanity. And they have stirred the immeasurable depths 
 of pity within us." 
 
 The Holy Father paused after this unwontedly long speech. 
 A dumb sense of stupefaction seemed to possess the priest, and 
 he passed his shrunken hands before his eyes as if he would 
 brush away a mist. 
 
 "That this unfortunate book is but the uttering of delirium, 
 we have already announced to the world," His Holiness gently 
 continued. "But out of our deep love for a family which has 
 supplied so many illustrious sons to our beloved Church we 
 have suppressed mention of your name in connection there- 
 with." 
 
 The priest started, as he vaguely sensed the impending 
 issue. What was it that His Holiness was about to demand? 
 That he denounce his journal, over his own signature, as the 
 ravings of a man temporarily insane? He was well aware 
 that the Vatican's mere denial of the allegations therein con- 
 tained, and its attributing of them to a mad priest, would 
 scarcely carry conviction to the Courts of Spain and Austria, 
 
 74 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 or to an astonished world. But, for him to declare them the 
 garbled and unauthentic- utterances of an aberrant mind, and 
 to make public such statement in his own name, would save 
 the situation, possibly the Rincon honor, even though it stultify 
 his own. 
 
 His Holiness waited a few moments for the priest's reply; 
 but receiving none, he continued with deep significance:. 
 
 "You will not make it necessary, we know, for us to an- 
 nounce that a mad priest, a son of the house of Rincon, now 
 confined in an asylum, voiced these heretical and treasonable 
 utterances." 
 
 The voice of His Holiness flowed like cadences of softest 
 music, charming in its tenderness, winning in its appeal, but 
 momentous in its certain implication. 
 
 "In our solicitude for your recovery we commanded our 
 own physicians to attend you. To them you owe your life. 
 To them, too, we owe our gratitude for that report on your case 
 which reveals the true nature of the malady afflicting you." 
 
 The low voice vibrated in rhythmic waves through the dead 
 silence of the room. 
 
 "To them also you now owe this opportunity to abjure the 
 writings which have caused us and yourself such great sorrow; 
 to them you owe this privilege of confessing before us, who will 
 receive your r,ecantation, remit your unintentional sins, and 
 restore you to honor and service in our beloved Church." 
 
 Jose suddenly came to himself. Recant! Confess! In 
 God's name, what? Abjure his writings, the convictions of a 
 lifetime ! 
 
 "These writings, my son, are not your sane and rational 
 convictions," the Pontiff suggested. 
 
 Jose still stood mute before him. 
 
 "You renounce them now, in the clear light of restored 
 reason ; and you swear future lealty to us and to Holy Church," 
 the aged Father continued. 
 
 "Make answer!" commanded one of the Cardinal-Bishops, 
 starting toward the wavering priest. "Down on your knees 
 before the Holy Father, who waits to forgive your venial sin!" 
 
 Jose turned swiftly to the approaching Cardinal and held up 
 a hand. The man stopped short. The Pontiff and his asso- 
 ciates bent forward in eager anticipation. The valet fell back, 
 and Jose stood alone. In that tense mental atmosphere the 
 shrinking priest seemed to be transformed into a Daniel. 
 
 "No, Holy Father, you mistake!" , His voice rang through 
 the room like a clarion. "I do not recant! My writings do 
 express my deepest and sanest convictions!" 
 
 The Pontiff's pallid face went dark. The eyes of the other 
 
 75 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 a\iditors bulged with astonishment. A dumb spell settled over 
 the room. 
 
 "Father, my guilt lies not in having recorded my honest 
 convictions, nor in the fact that these records fell into the 
 hands of those who eagerly grasp every opportunity to attack 
 , their common enemy, the Church. It lies rather in my weak 
 resistance to those influences which in early life combined to 
 force upon me a career to which I was by temperament and 
 instinct utterly disinclined. It lies in my having sacrificed 
 myself to the selfish love of my mother and my own exaggerated 
 sense of family pride. It lies in my still remaining outwardly 
 a priest of the Catholic faith, when every fiber of my soul 
 revolts against the hypocrisy!" 
 
 "You are a subject of the Church!" the Papal Secretary in- 
 terrupted. "You have sworn to her and to the Sovereign Pontiff 
 as loyal and unquestioning obedience as to the will of God 
 himself!" 
 
 Jose turned upon him. "Before my ordination," he cried, 
 "I was a voluntary subject of the Sovereign of Spain. Did that 
 ceremony render me an unwilling subject of the Holy Father? 
 Does the ceremony of ordination constitute the Romanizing of 
 Spain? No, I am not a subject of Rome, but of my conscience !" 
 
 Another dead pause followed, in which for some moments 
 nothing disturbed the oppressive silence. Jose looked eagerly 
 into the delicate features of the living Head of the Church. 
 Then, with decreased ardor, and in a voice tinged with pathos, 
 he continued: 
 
 "Father, my mistakes have been only such as are natural 
 to one of my peculiar character. I came to know, but too late, 
 that my life-motives, though pure, found not in me the will 
 for their direction. I became a tool in the hands of those 
 stronger than myself. For what ultimate purpose, I know not. 
 Of this only am I certain, that my mother's ambitions, though 
 selfish, were the only pure motives among those which united 
 to force the order of priesthood upon me." 
 
 "Force!" burst in one of the Cardinal-Bishops. "Do you 
 assume to make the Holy Father believe that the priesthood 
 can be forced upon a man? You assumed it -willingly, gladly, 
 as was your proper return for the benefits which the Mother 
 Church had bestowed upon you!" 
 
 "In a state of utmost confusion, bordering a mental break- 
 down, I assumed it — outwardly," returned the priest sadly, 
 "but my heart never ceased to reject it. Once ordained, how- 
 ever, I sought in my feeble way to study the needs of the 
 Church, and prepare myself to assist in the inauguration of 
 reforms which I felt she must some day undertake." 
 
 76 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The Pontiff's features twitched with ill-concealed irritation 
 at this confession; but before he could speak Jose continued: 
 
 "Oh, Father, and Cardinal-Princes of the Church, does not 
 the need of your people for truth wring your hearts? Turn 
 from your zealous dreams of world-conquest and see them, 
 steeped in ignorance and superstition, wretched with poverty, 
 war, and crime, extending their hands to you as their spiritual 
 leaders — to you. Holy Father, who should be their Moses, to 
 smite the rock of error, that the living, saving truth may 
 gush out!" 
 
 He paused, as if fearful of his own rushing thought. Then: 
 "Is not the past fraught with lessons of deepest import to 
 us? Is not the Church being rejected by the nations of Europe 
 because of our intolerance, our oppression, our stubborn cling- 
 ing to broken idols and effete forms of faith? We are now 
 turning from the wreckage which the Church has wrought in 
 the Old World, and our eyes are upon America. But can we 
 deceive ourselves that free, liberty-loving America will bow 
 her neck to the mediaeval yoke which the Church would im- 
 pose upon hei"? Why, oh, why cannot we see the Church's 
 tremendous oppgrtunities for good in this century, and yield 
 to that inevitable mental and moral progression which must 
 sweep her from her foundations, unless she conform to its 
 requirements and join in the movement toward universal eman- 
 cipation! Our people are taught from childhood to be led; 
 they are willing followers — none more willing in the world! 
 But why lead them into the pit? Why muzzle them with fear, 
 oppress them with threats, fetter them with outworn dogma 
 and dead creed? Why continue to dazzle them with pagan 
 ceremonialism and oriental glamour, and then, our exactions 
 wrung from them, leave them to consume with disease and 
 decay with moral contagion?" 
 
 "The man is mad with heresy!" muttered the Pontiff, turn- 
 ing to the Cardinal-Bishops. 
 
 "No, it is not I who is mad with heresy, but the Holy 
 Church, of which you are the spiritual Head!" cried the priest, 
 his loud voice trembling with indignation and his frail body 
 swaying under his rapidly growing excitement. "She is guilty 
 of the damnable heresy of concealing knowledge, of hiding 
 truth, of stifling honest questionings ! STie is guilty of grossest 
 intolerance, of deadliest hatred, of impurest motives — she, the 
 self-constituted, self-endowed spiritual guide of mankind, arro- 
 gating to herself infallibility, superiority, supreme authority — 
 yea, the very voice of God himself!" 
 
 The priest had now lost all sense of environment, and his 
 voice waxed louder as he continued: 
 
 77 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "The conduct of the Church throughout the centuries has 
 made her the laughing stock of history, an object of ridicule to 
 every man of education and sense! She is filled with super- 
 stition — do you not know it? She is permeated with pagan 
 idolatry, fetishism, and carnal-mindedness ! She is pitiably 
 ignorant of the real teachings of the Christ! Her dogmas have 
 been formed by the subtle wits of Church theologians. They 
 are in this century as childish as her political and social 
 schemes are mischievous! Why have we formulated our doc- 
 trine of purgatory? Why so solicitous about souls in purgato- 
 rial torment, and yet so careless of them while still on earth? 
 Where is our justification for the doctrine of infallibility? Is 
 liberty to think the concession of God, or of the Holy Father? 
 Where, oh, where is the divine Christ in our system of the- 
 ology? Is he to be found in materialism, intolerance, the burn- 
 ing of Bibles, in hatred of so-called heretics, and in worldly 
 practices? Are we not keeping the Christ in the sepulcher, 
 refusing to permit him to arise?" 
 
 His speech soared into the impassioned energy of thundered 
 denunciation. 
 
 "Yes, Holy Father, and Cardinal-Bishops, I am justified in 
 criticizing the Holy Catholic Church! And I am likewise justi- 
 fied in condemning the Protestant Church! All have fallen 
 woefully short of the glory of God, and none obeys the simple 
 commands of the Christ. The Church throughout the world 
 has become secularized, and worship is but hollow consistency 
 in the strict performance of outward acts of devotion. Our re- 
 ligion is but a hypocritical show of conformity. Our asylums, 
 our hospitals, our institutions of charity? Alas! they but evi- 
 dence our woeful shortcoming, and our persistent refusal to 
 rise into the strength of the healing, saving Christ, which wduld 
 render these obsolete institutions unnecessary in the world of 
 to-day! The Holy Catholic Church is but a human institution. 
 Its worldliness, its scheming, its political machinations, make 
 me shudder — !" 
 
 "Stop, madman!" thundered one of the Cardinal-Bishops, 
 rushing upon the frail Jose with such force as to fell him to the 
 floor. The Pontiff had riseuj and sunk again into hisxhair. 
 The valet hurried to his assistance. The Papal Secretary, his 
 face contorted with rage, and his throat choking with the press 
 of words which he strove to utter, hastened to the door to sum-j 
 mon help. "Remove this man!" he commanded, pointing out 
 the prostrate form of Jose to the two Swiss guards who had 
 responded to his call. "Confine him! He is violent — a raging 
 maniac!" 
 
 A few days later, Padre Jos6 de Rinc6n, having been pro- 
 
 78 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 nounced by the Vatican physicians mentally deranged, as the 
 result of acute cerebral anaemia, was quietly conveyed to a 
 
 sequestered monastery at Palazzola. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Two summers came, and fled again before the chiU winds 
 which blew from the Alban hills. Then one day Jose's uncle 
 appeared at the monastery door with a written order from His 
 Holiness, effecting the priest's conditional release. Together 
 they journeyed at once to Seville, the uncle alert and energetic 
 as ever, showing but slight tracQ of time's devastating hand; 
 Jose, the shadow of his former self physically, and his mind 
 clouded with the somber pall of melancholia. 
 
 Toward the close of a quiet summer, spent witli his mother 
 in his boyhood home, Jose received from his uncle's hand an- 
 other letter, bearing the papal insignia. It was evident that it 
 was not unexpected, for it found the priest with his effects 
 packed and ready for a considerable journey. A hurried fare- 
 well to his mother, and the life-weary Jose, combining inno- 
 cence and misery in exaggerated proportions, and still a vassal 
 of Rome, set out for the port of Cadiz. There, in company with 
 the Apostolic Delegate and Envoy Extraordinary to the Re- 
 public of Colombia, he embarked on the West Indian trader 
 Sarnia, bound for Cartagena, in the New World. 
 
 CHAPTER 12 
 
 r[ERE is no region in the Western Hemisphere more in- 
 vested with the spirit of romance and adventure than 
 that strip of Caribbean coast stretching from the Cape of 
 Yucatan to the delta of the Orinoco and known as the Spanish 
 Main. No more superb setting could have been chosen for the 
 opening scenes of the New World drama. Skies of profoundest 
 blue — the tropical sun flaming through massive clouds of vapor 
 — a sea of exuberant color, foaming white over coral beaches — 
 waving cocoa palms against a background of exotic verdure 
 marking a tortuous shore line, which now rises sheer and pre- 
 cipitous from the water's edge to dizzy, snowcapped, cloud-hung 
 heights, now stretches away into vast reaches of oozy mangrove 
 bog and dank cinchona grove — here flecked with stagnant la- 
 goons that teem with slimy, crawling life — there flattened into 
 interminable, forest-covered plains and untrodden, primeval 
 wildernesses, impenetrable, defiant, alluring — and all peren- 
 nially bathed in dazzling light, vivid color, and soft, fragrant 
 winds — with everywhere redundant foliage — humming, chat- 
 
 79 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 tering, screaming life-^profusion — extravagance — prodigality 
 — riotous waste! Small wonder that when this enticing shore 
 was first revealed to the astonished Conquistadores, where 
 every form of Nature was wholly different from anything their 
 past experience afforded, they were childishly receptive to every 
 tale, however preposterous, of fountains of youth, of magical 
 lakes, or enchanted cities with mountains of gold in the depths 
 of the frowning jungle. They had come with their thought 
 attuned to enchantment; their minds were fallow to the in- 
 credible; they were fresh from their conquest of the vast Mare 
 Tenebrosum, with its mysteries and terrors. At a single stroke 
 from the arm of the intrepid Genoese the mediaeval supersti- 
 tions which peopled the unknown seas had fallen like fetters 
 from these daring and adventurous souls. The slumbering 
 spirit of knight-errantry awoke suddenly within their breasts; 
 and when from their frail galleons they beheld with ravished 
 eyes this land of magic and alluring mystery which spread out 
 before them in such gorgeous panorama, they plunged into the 
 glittering waters with waving swords and pennants, with shouts 
 of praise and joy upon their lips, and inaugurated that series 
 of prodigious enterprise, extravagant deeds of hardihood, and 
 tremendous feats of prowess which still remain unsurpassed in 
 the annals of history for brilliancy, picturesqueness, and wealth 
 of incident. 
 
 With almost incredible rapidity and thoroughness the Span- 
 ish arms spread over the New World, urged by the corroding 
 lust of gold and the sharp stimulus afforded by the mythical 
 quests which animated the simple minds- of these hardy search- 
 ers for the Golden Fleece. Neither trackless forests, withering 
 heat, miasmatic climate nor savage Indians could dampen their 
 ardor or check their search for riches and glory. They pene- 
 trated everywhere, steel-clad and glittering, with lance and 
 helmet and streaming banner. Every nook, every promontory 
 of a thousand miles of coast was minutely searched; every 
 island was bounded; every towering mountain scaled. Even 
 those vast regions of New Granada which to-day are as un- 
 known as the least explored parts of darkest Africa became 
 the scenes of stirring adventure and brilliant exploit of these 
 daring crusaders of more than three centuries ago. 
 
 The real wonders yielded by this newly discovered land of 
 enchantment far exceeded the fabled Manoa or El Dorado of 
 mythical lore; and the adventurous expeditions that were first 
 incited by these chimeras soon changed into practical coloniz- 
 ing and developing projects of real and permanent value. 
 Amazing discoveries were made of empires which had already 
 developed a state of civilization, mechanical, military, and 
 
 80 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 agricultural, which rivaled those of Europe. Natural resources 
 were revealed such as the Old World had not even guessed 
 were possible. Great rivers, vast fertile plains, huge veins of 
 gold and copper ore, inexhaustible timber, a wealth of every 
 material thing desired by man, could be had almost without 
 effort. Fortunate, indeed, was the Spanish Conquistador in the 
 possession of such immeasurable riches; fortunate, indeed, had 
 he possessed the wisdom to meet the supreme test of character 
 which this sudden accession of wealth and power was to bring! 
 
 With the opening of the vast treasure house flanked by the 
 Spanish Main came the Spaniard's supreme opportunity to 
 master the world. Soon in undisputed possession of the greater 
 part of the Western Hemisphere; with immeasurable wealth 
 flowing into his coffers ; sustained by dauntless courage and an 
 intrepid spirit of adventure; with papal support, and the learn- 
 ing and genius of the centuries at his command, he faced the 
 opportunity to extend his sway over the entire world and unite 
 all peoples into a universal empire, both temporal and spiritual. 
 That he failed to rise to this possibility was not due to any lack 
 of appreciation of his tremendous opportunity, nor to a dearth 
 of leaders of real military genius, but to a misapprehension of 
 the great truth that the conquest of the world is not to be 
 wrought by feats of arms, but by the exercise of those moral 
 attributes and spiritual qualities of heart and soul which he 
 did not possess — or possessing, had prostituted to the carnal 
 influences of lust of material riches and temporal power. 
 
 In the immediate wake of the Spanish Conqueros surged 
 the drift and flotsam of the Old World. Cities soon sprang up 
 along the Spanish Main which reflected a curious blend of the 
 old-time life of Seville and Madrid with the picturesque and 
 turbulent elements of the adventurer and . buccaneer. The 
 spirit of the West has always been synonymous with a larger 
 sense of freedom, a shaking off of prejudice and tradition and 
 the trammels of convention. The sixteenth century towns of 
 the New World were no exception, and their streets and plazas 
 early exhibited a multicolored panorama, wherein freely min- 
 gled knight and predaceous priest, swashbuckler and staid 
 hidalgo, timid Indian and veiled doncella — a potpourri of mer- 
 chant, prelate, negro, thief, the broken in fortune and the black- 
 ened in character — all poured into the melting pot of the new 
 West, and there steaming and straining, scheming and plotting, 
 attuned to any pitch of venturesome project, so be it that gold 
 and fame were the promised emoluments thereof. 
 
 And gold, and fame of a certain kind, were always to be had 
 by those whose ethical code permitted of a little straining. For 
 the great ships which carried the vast wealth of this new land 
 
 81 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 of magic back to the perennially empty coffers of Old Spain 
 constituted a temptation far more readily recognized than re- 
 sisted. These huge, slow-moving galleons, gilded and carved, 
 crawling lazily over the surface of the bright tropical sea, and 
 often so heavily freighted with treasure as to be unsafe in rough 
 weather, came to be regarded as special dispensations of Provi- 
 dence by the cattle thieves and driers of beef who dwelt in the 
 .pirates' paradise of Tortuga and Hispaniola, and little was 
 ,' required in way of soul-alchemy to transform the boucanier 
 "^ into the lawless and sanguinary, though picturesque, corsair of 
 that romantic age. The buccaneer was but a natural evolution 
 from the peculiar conditions then obtaining. Where human 
 society in the process of formation has not yet arrived at the 
 necessity of law to restrain the Ijist and greed of its members; 
 and where at the same time untold wealth is to be had at the 
 slight cost of a few lives ; and, too, where even the children are 
 taught that whosoever aids in the destruction of Spanish ships 
 and Spanish lives renders a service to the Almighty, the bucca- 
 neer must be regarded as the logical result. He multiplied with 
 astonishing rapidity in these warm, southern waters, and not a 
 ship that sailed the Caribbean was safe from his sudden depre- 
 dations. So extensive and thorough was his work that the bed 
 of the Spanish Main is dotted with traditional treasure ships, 
 and to this day remnants of doubloons or "pieces of eight" and 
 bits of bullion and jewelry are washed up on the shining 
 beaches of Panama and northern Colombia as grim memorials 
 of his lawless activities. 
 
 The expenditure of energy necessary to transport the gold, 
 silver and precious stones from the New World to the bottom- 
 less treasury of Spain was stupendous. Yet not less stupendous 
 was the amount of treasure transported. From the distant 
 mines of Potosi, from the Pilcomayo, from the almost inacces- 
 sible fastnesses ofvwhat are now Bolivia and Ecuador, a precious 
 stream poured into the leaking treasure box of Spain that 
 totalled a value of no less than ten billion dollars. Much of 
 the wealth which came from Peru was shipped up to the isth- 
 mus of Panama, and thence transferred to plate-fleets. But the 
 buccaneers became so active along the Pacific coast that water 
 shipment was finally abandoned, and from that time trans- 
 portation had to be made overland by way of the Andean 
 plateau, sometimes a distance of two thousand miles, to the 
 strongholds which were built to receive and protect the treasure 
 until the plate-fleets could be made up. Of these strongholds 
 there were two of the first importance, the old city of Panama, 
 on the isthmus, and the almost equally, old city of Cartagena^ 
 on the northern coast of what is now the Republic of Colombia. 
 
 82, 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 The spirit of ancient Carthage must have breathed upon this 
 "Very Royal and Loyal City" which Pedro de Heredia in the 
 sixteenth century founded on the north coast of New Granada, 
 and bequeathed to it a portion of its own romance and tragedy. 
 Superbly placed upon a narrow, tongue-shaped islet, one of a 
 group that shield an ample harbor from the sharp tropical 
 storms which burst unheralded over the sea without ; girdled 
 by huge, battlemented walls, and guarded by frowning fort- 
 resses, Cartagena commanded the gateway to the exhaustless 
 wealth of the Cordilleras, at whose feet she still nestles, bathed 
 in perpetual sunshine, and kissed by cool ocean breezes which 
 temper the winds blowing hot from the steaming llanos of the 
 interior. By the middle of the sixteenth century she offered 
 all that the adventurous seeker of fame and fortune could 
 desire, and attracted to herself not only the chivalry, but the 
 beauty, wealth and learning which, mingled with rougher ele- 
 ments, poured into the New World so freely in the opening 
 scenes of the great drama inaugurated by the arrival of the 
 tiny caravels of Columbus a half century before. 
 
 The city waxed quickly rich and powerful. Its natural ad- 
 vantages of location, together with its massive fortifications, 
 and its wonderful harbor, so extensive that the com- 
 bined fleets of Spain might readily have found anchorage 
 therein, early rendered it the choice of the Spanish monarch 
 as his most dependable reservoir and shipping point for tlie 
 accumulated treasure of his new possessions. The island upon 
 which the city arose was singularly well chosen for defense. 
 Fortified bridges were built to connect it with the mainland, 
 and subterranean passageways led from the great walls en- 
 circling, it to the impregnable fortress of San Felipe de Barajas, 
 on Mount San Lazaro, a few hundred yards back of the city and 
 commanding the avenues and approaches of the land side. To 
 the east, and about a mile from the walls, the abrupt hill of 
 La Popa rises, surmounted by the convent of Santa Candelaria, 
 likewise connected by underground tunnels to the interior of 
 the city, and commanding the harbor and its approaches from 
 the sea. The harbor formerly connected with the open sea 
 through two entrances, the Boca Grande, a wide, fortified pass 
 between the island of Tierra Bomba and the tongue on which 
 the city stands, and the Boca Chica, some nine miles farther 
 w6st, a narrow, tortuous pass, wide enough to permit entry to 
 but a single vessel at a time, and commanded by forts San 
 Fernando and San Jose. 
 
 By the middle of the seventeenth century Cartagena, "Queen 
 of the Indies and Queen of the Seas," had expanded into a proud 
 and beautiful city, the most important mart of the New World. 
 
 83 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Under royal patronage its merchants enjoyed a monopoly of 
 commerce with Spain. Under the special favor of Rome it 
 became an episcopal See, and the seat of the Holy Inquisition. 
 Its docks and warehouses, its great centers of commerce, its 
 sumptuous dwellings, its magnificent Cathedral, its colleges and 
 monasteries, and its proud aristocracy, all reflected the spirit of 
 enterprise which animated its sons and found expression in a 
 city which could boast a pride, a culture, and a wealth almost 
 unrivalled even in the Old World. 
 
 But, not unlike her ancient prototype, Cartagena succumbed 
 to the very influences which had made her great. Her wealth 
 excited the cupidity of freebooters, and her power aroused the 
 jealousy of her formidable rivals. Her religion itself became 
 an excuse for the plundering hands of Spain's enemies. Again 
 and again the city was called upon to defend the challenge 
 which her riches and massive walls perpetually issued. Again 
 and again she was forced to yield to the heavy tributes and dis- 
 graceful penalties of buccaneers and legalized pirates who, like 
 Drake, came to plunder her under royal patent. Cartagena 
 rose and fell, and rose again. But the human heart which 
 throbs beneath the lash of lust or revenge knows no barriers. 
 Her great forts availed nothing against the lawless hordes 
 which swarmed over them. Neither were her tremendous walls 
 proof against starvation. Again and again, her streets filled 
 with her gaunt dead, she stubbornly held her gates against the 
 enemies of Spain who assaulted her in the name of religion, 
 only at last to weaken with terror and throw them open in 
 disgraceful welcome to the French de Pontis and his maudlin, 
 rag-tag followers, who drained her of her last drop of life blood. 
 As her gates swung wide and this nondescript band of marau- 
 ders streamed in with curses and shouts of exultation, the 
 glory of this royal mediaeval city passed out forever. 
 
 Almost from its inception, Cartagena had been the point of 
 attack of every enterprise launched with the object of wresting 
 from Spain her rich western possessions, so much coveted by 
 her jealous and revengeful rivals. It was Spain herself who 
 fought for very existence while Cartagena was holding her 
 gates against the enemies of Holy Church. And these enemies 
 knew that they had pierced the Spanish heart when the "Queen 
 of the Indies" fell. And in no small measure did Spain deserve 
 the fate which overtook her. For, had it not been for the 
 stupendous amount of treasure derived from these new posses- 
 sions, the dramatic and dominant part which she played in the 
 affairs of Europe during the sixteenth century would have been 
 impossible. This treasure she wrested from her South Ameri- 
 can colonies at a cost in the destruction of human life, in the 
 
 84 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 outraging of human instincts, in the debauching of ideals and 
 the falsifying of hope, in hellish oppression and ghastly torture, 
 that can never be adequately estimated. Her benevolent in- 
 struments of colonization were cannon and saintly relics. Her 
 agents were swaggering soldiers and bigoted friars. Her sys- 
 tem involved the impression of her language and her undemon- 
 strable religious beliefs upon the harmless aborigines. The 
 fruits of this system, which still linger after three centuries, 
 are superstition, black ignorance, and woeful mental retarda- 
 tion. To the terrified aborigines the boasted Spanish civiliza- 
 tion meant little more than "gold, liquor, and sadness." Small 
 wonder that the simple Indians, unable to comprehend the 
 Christian's lust, for gold, poured the molten metal down the 
 throats of their captives, crying, "Eat, Christian, eat!" They 
 had borrowed their ideals from the Christian Spaniards, who 
 by means of the stake and rack were convincing them that God 
 was not in this western land, until they came, bringing their 
 -debauched concept of Christianity. 
 
 And so Cartagena fell, late in the seventeenth century, never 
 to regain more than a shadow of her former grandeur and 
 prestige. But again she rose, in a semblance of her martial 
 spirit, when her native sons, gathering fresh courage and in- 
 spiration from the waning powers of the mother-country in the 
 early years of the century just closed, organized that federation 
 which, after long years of almost hopeless struggle, lifted the 
 yoke of Spanish misrule from New Granada and proclaimed the 
 Republic of Colombia. Cartagena was the first city of Co- 
 lombia to declare its independence from Spain. And in the 
 great war which followed the "Heroic City" passed through 
 terrible vicissitudes, emerging from it still further depleted 
 and sunken, a shell of massive walls and battered defenses, 
 with desolated homes and empty streets echoing the tread of 
 the mendicant peon. 
 
 As the nineteenth century, so rich in invention, discovery, 
 and stirring activity in the great States to the north, drew to a 
 close, a chance visitor to this battle-scarred, mediaeval city 
 would have found her asleep amid the dreams of her former 
 greatness. Approaching from the harbor, especially if he ar- 
 rived in the early hours of morning, his eyes would have met a 
 ^'iew of exquisite beauty. Seen thus, great moss-grown struc- 
 tures rise from within the lofty encircling walls, with many a 
 tower and gilded dome glittering in the clear sunlight and 
 standing out in sharp relief against the green background of 
 forest-plumed hills and towering mountains. The abysmal 
 blue of the untainted tropical sky overhead contrasts sharply 
 with the red-tiled roofs and dazzling white exteriors of the 
 
 85 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 buildings beneath; and the vivid tints, mingling with the iri- 
 descence of the scarcely rippling waters of the harbor, blend 
 into a color scheme of rarest loveliness in the clear atmosphere 
 which seems to magnify all distant objects and intensify every 
 hue. 
 
 A close! approach to the citadel \^hich lies within the land- 
 locked harbor reveals in detail the features of the stupendous 
 walls which guard this key to Spain's former treasurte house. 
 Their immensity and their marvelous construction bear witness 
 to the genius of her famous military engineers, and evoke the 
 same admiration as do the great temples and monuments of 
 ancient Egypt. These grim walls, in places sixty feet through, 
 and pierced by numerous gates, are frequently widened into 
 broad esplanades, and set here and there with bastions and 
 watch towers to command strategic points. At the north end 
 of the city they expand into an elaborately fortified citadel, 
 within which are enormous fresh water tanks, formerly sup- 
 plied by the rains, and made necessary by the absence of 
 springs so near the coast. Within the walls at various points 
 one finds the now abandoned barracks, storerooms, and echoing 
 dungeons, the latter in the days of the stirring past too often 
 pressed into service by the Holy Inquisition. Underground 
 tunnels, still intact, lead from the walls to the Cathedral, the 
 crumbling fortress of San Felipe de Barajas, and the deserted 
 convent on the summit of La Popa. Time-defying, grim, dra- 
 matic reliques of- an age forever past, breathing poetry and 
 romance from every crevice — still in fancy echoing from mold- 
 ering tower and scarred bulwark the clank of sabre, the tread 
 of armored steed, and the shouts of exulting Conquistadores 
 — aye, their ghostly echoes sinking in the fragrant air of night 
 into soft whispers, which bear to the tropical moon dark hints 
 of ancient tragedies enacted within these dim keeps and gloom- 
 shrouded tunnels! 
 
 The pass of Boca Grande — "large mouth" — through which 
 Drake's band of marauders sailed triumphantly in the latter 
 part of the sixteenth century, was formerly the usual entrance 
 to the city's magnificent harbor. But its wide, deep channel, 
 only two miles from the city walls, afforded too easy access to 
 undesirable visitors in the heyday of freebooters; and the 
 harassed Cartagenians, wearied of the innumerable piratical 
 attacks which this broad entrance constantly invited, under- 
 took to fill it up. This they accomplished after years of heroic 
 effort and an enormous expenditure of money, leaving the har- 
 bor only the slender, tortuous entrance of Boca Chica — "little 
 mouth" — dangerous to Incoming vessels because of the almost 
 torrential flow of the tide through it, but much more readily 
 
 86 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 defended. The two castles of San Fernandcf and San Jose, 
 frowning structures of stone dominating this entrance, have 
 long since fallen into disuse, but are still admirably preserved. 
 Beneath the former, and extending far below the surface of the 
 water, is the old Bastile of the Inquisition, occasionally pressed 
 into requisition now to house recalcitrant politicians, and where 
 no great effort of the imagination is required still to hear the 
 groans of the tortured and the sighs of the condemned, await- 
 ing in chains and san benitos the approaching auto da fi. 
 
 But the greater distance from the present entrance of the 
 harbor to the city walls affords the visitor a longer period in 
 which to enjoy the charming panorama which seems to drift 
 slowly out to meet him as he stands entranced before it. The 
 spell of romance and chivalry is upon him long ere he disem- 
 barks; and once through the great gateway of the citadel itself, 
 he yields easily to the ineluctable charm which seems to hover 
 in the balmy air of this once proud city. Everywhere are evi- 
 dences of ancient grandeur, mingling with memories of enor- 
 mous wealth and violent scenes of strife. The narrow, winding 
 streets, characteristic of oriental cities; the Moorish architec- 
 ture displayed in the grandiose palaces and churches; the 
 grated, unglazed windows, through which still peep timid 
 senoritas, as in the romantic days of yore; the gaily painted 
 balconies, over which bepowdered doncellas lean to pass the 
 day's gossip in the liquid tongue of Cervantes, all transport one 
 in thought to the chivalrous past, when this picturesque sur- 
 . vival of Spain's power in America was indeed the very Queen 
 of the western world and the proud boast of the haughty 
 monarchs of Castile. 
 
 Nor was the city more dear to the Spanish King than to the 
 spiritual Sovereign who sat- on Peter's throne. The Holy See 
 strove to make Cartagena the chief ecclesiastical center of the 
 New World; and churches, monasteries, colleges, and convents 
 flourished there as luxuriantly as the tropical vegetation. The 
 city was early elevated to a bishopric. A magnificent Cathedral 
 was soon erected, followed by other churches and buildings to 
 house ecclesiastical orders, including the Jesuit college, the 
 University, the women's seminary, and the homes for religious 
 orders of both sexes. The same lavish expenditure of labor 
 and wealth was bestowed upon the religious structures as on 
 the walls and fortifications. The Cathedral and the church of 
 San Juan de Dios, the latter the most conspicuous structure in 
 the city, with its double towers and its immense monastery 
 adjoining, became the special recipients of the liberal outpour- 
 ings of a community rich not only in material wealth, but in 
 culture and refinement as well. The latter church in particular 
 
 87 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 was the object 8f veneration of the patrons of America's only 
 Saint, the beneficent Pedro Claver, -whose whitened bones now 
 repose in a wonderful glass coffin bound with strips of gold 
 beneath its magnificent marble altar. In the central plaza of 
 the city still stands the building erected to house the Holy 
 Inquisition, so well preserved that it yet serves as a dwelling. 
 Adjacent to it, and lining the plaza, are spacious colonial edi- 
 fices, once the homes of wealth and culture, each shaded By 
 graceful palms and each enclosing its inner garden, or patio, 
 where tropical plants and aromatic shrubs riot in richest color 
 and fragrance throughout the year. 
 
 In the halcyon days of Cartagena's greatness, when, under 
 the protection of the powerful mother-country, her commerce 
 extended to the confines of the known world, her streets and 
 markets presented a scene of industry and activity wholly for- 
 eign to her in these latter days of her depadence. From her 
 port the rich traffic which once centered in this thriving city 
 moved, in constantly swelling volume, in every direction. In 
 her marts were formulated those audacious plans which later 
 took shape in ever-memorable expeditions up the Magdalena 
 and Cauca rivers in search of gold, or to establish new colonies 
 and extend the city's sphere of influence. From her gates were 
 launched those projects which had for their object the discovery 
 of the mysterious regions where rivers were said to flow over 
 sands of pure gold and silver, or the kingdom of El Dorado, 
 where native potentates sprinkled their bodies with gold dust 
 before bathing in the streams sacred to their deities. From . 
 this city the bold Quesada set out on the exploits of discovery 
 and conquest which opened to the world the rich plateau of 
 Bogota, and ranked him among the greatest of the Conquista- 
 dores. In those days a canal had been cut through the swamps 
 and dense coast lowlands to the majestic Magdalena river, 
 some sixty-five miles distant, where a riverine town was founded 
 and given the name of Calamar, the name Pedro de Heredia 
 had first bestowed upon Cartagena. Through this dique the 
 city's merchant vessels passed to the great arterial stream be- 
 yond, and thence some thousand miles south into the heart of the 
 rich and little known regions of upper Colombia. To-day, like 
 the grass-grown streets of the ancient city, this canal, choked 
 with weeds and dibris, is but a green and turbid pool, but 
 yet a reminder of the faded glory of the famous old town which 
 played such a dramatic rdle in that age of desperate courage. 
 
 In the finished town of Cartagena Spain's dreams of imperial 
 pomp and magnificence were externalized. In her history the 
 tragedy of the New World drama has been preserved. To-day, 
 sunk in decadence, surrounded by the old mediaeval flavor, and 
 
 88 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 steeped in the romance of an age of chivalry forever past, her 
 muniments and donjons, her gray, crenelated walls and time- 
 defying structures continue to express that dogged tenacity of 
 belief and stern defiance of unorthodox opinion which for 
 two hundred years maintained the Inquisition within her gates 
 and sacrificed her fair sons and daughters to an undemon- 
 strable creed. The heavy air of ecclesiasticism still hangs 
 over her. The priests and monks* who accompanied every 
 sanguinary expedition of the Conquistador es, ready at all times, 
 to absolve any desperado who might slay a harmless Indian 
 in the name of Christ, have their successors to-day in the astute 
 and untiring sons of Rome, who conserve the interests of Holy 
 Church within these battered walls and guard their portals 
 against the entrance of radical thought. Heredia had scarcely 
 founded the city when King Philip sent it a Bishop. And less 
 than a decade later the Cathedral-, which to-day stands as the 
 center of the episcopal See, was begun. 
 
 The Cathedral, though less imposing than the church of San 
 Juan de Dios, is a fine example of the ecclesiastical architecture 
 of the colonial era. Occupying a central position in the cify, its 
 ever-open doors invite rich and poor alike, citizen and stranger, 
 to enter and linger in the refreshing atmosphere within, where 
 the subdued light and cool shadows of the great nave and chap- 
 els afford a grateful respite from the glare and heat of the streets 
 without. Massive in exterior appearance, and not beautiful 
 within, the Cathedral nevertheless exhibits a construction which 
 is at once broad, simple and harmonious. The nave is more 
 than usually wide between its main piers, and its rounded 
 arches are lofty and well proportioned. Excellent portraits of 
 former Bishops adorn its white walls, and narrow rectangular 
 windows at frequent intervals admit a dim, mellow light 
 through their dark panes. Before one of these windows — ap- 
 parently with no thought of incongruity in the exhibition of 
 such a gruesome object attached to a Christian church — there 
 has been affixed an iron grating, said to have served the Holy 
 Inquisition as a gridiron on which to roast its heretical victims. 
 Within, an ambulatory, supported on the first tier of arches, 
 affords a walk along either side of the nave, and leads to the 
 winding stairway of the bell tower. At one end of this ambu- 
 latory, its entrance commanding a full view of the nave and the 
 capilla mayoT, with its exquisitely carved marble altar, is located 
 the Bishop's sanctum. It was here that the young Spanish 
 priest, Jose de Rincon, stood before the Bishop of Cartagena on 
 the certain midday to which reference was made in the opening 
 chapter of this recital, and received with dull ears the ecclesias- 
 tical order which removed him still farther from the world and 
 
 89 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 doomed him to a living burial in the crumbling town of Simiti, 
 in the wilderness of forgotten Guamoco. 
 
 CHAPTER 13 
 
 " AT last, you come!" • 
 
 f-\ The querulous tones of the aged Bishop eddied the 
 ■*■ "^ brooding silence within the Cathedral. Without wait- 
 ing for a reply he turned again to his table and took up a paper 
 containing a list of names. 
 
 "You wait until midday," he continued testily; "but you give 
 me time to reflect and decide. The parish of Simiti has long 
 been vacant. I have assigned you to it. The Honda touches at 
 Calamar to-morrow, going up-river. You will take it." 
 
 "Simiti! Father—!" 
 
 "Bien; and would you dispute this too!" quavered the ill- 
 humored Bishop. 
 
 "But — Simiti— you surely cannot mean — !" 
 
 The Bishop turned sharply around. "I mean that after what 
 I learn from Rome I will not keep you here to teach your here- 
 sies in our University! I mean that after what I hear this 
 morning of your evil practices I will not allow you to spend 
 another day in Cartagena!" The angry ecclesiastic brought his 
 bony fist hard against the table to emphasize the remark. ' 
 
 "Madre de Dios!" he resumed, after some moments of nurs- 
 ing his choleric feelings. "Would you debate further! The 
 Holy Father for some unexplained reason inflicts a madman 
 upon me! And I, innocent of what you are, obey his instruc- 
 tions and place you in the University — with what result? You 
 have the effrontery — the madness — to lecture to your classes 
 on the heresies of Rome!" 
 
 . "But—" 
 . "And as if that were not burden enough for these old 
 shoulders, I must learn that I have taken a serpent to my bosom 
 — but that you are still sane enough to propagate heresies — to 
 .plot revolution with the Radicals — and — shame consume you! — 
 to wantonly ruin the fair daughters of our diocese! But, do 
 you see now why I send you where you can do less evil than 
 here in Cartagena?" , 
 
 The priest slowly petrified under the tirade. 
 
 "The fault is not mine if I must act without instruction from 
 Rome," the Bishop went on petulantly. "Twice have 1^ warned 
 you against your teachings — but I did not suspect then, for only 
 yesterday , did I learn that before coming to me you had been 
 
 90 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 confined in a monastery — insane! But — Hombrc! when you 
 bring the blush of shame to my cheeks because of your godless 
 practices — it is time to put you away without waiting for in- 
 struction!" 
 
 Godless practices I Was the Bishop or the priest going mad? 
 
 "Go now to your room," the Bishop added, turning again to 
 his table. "You have little enough time to prepare for your 
 journey. Wenceslas will give you letters to the Alcalde of 
 Simiti." 
 
 Wenceslas ! The priest's thought flew back over the events 
 of the morning. Marcelena — Maria — the encounter below with 
 — ! Dios! Could it be that Wenceslas had fastened upon him 
 the stigma of his own crime? The priest found his tongue. 
 
 "Father! — it is untrue! — these charges are false as hell!" 
 he exclaimed excitedly. "I demand to know who brings them 
 against me!" 
 
 The testy Bishop's wrath flared up anew. "You demand! 
 Am I to sit here and be catechised by you? It is enough that I 
 know what occurs in my diocese, and am well informed of your 
 conduct!" 
 
 The doorway darkened, and the priest turned to meet the 
 object of iiii suspecting thought. 
 
 Bestowing a smile of patronage upon Jose, and bowing ob- 
 sequiously before the Bishop," Wenceslas laid some papers upon 
 ihe table, remarking as he did so, "The letters. Your Grace, to 
 introduce our Jose to his new field. Also his instructions and 
 expense money." 
 
 "Wenceslas!" The priest confronted him fiercely. "Do 
 you accuse me before the Bishop?" 
 
 "Accuse, amigo?" Wenceslas queried in a tone of assumed 
 surprise. "Have I not said that your ready tongue and pen are 
 your accusers? But," with a conciliatory air, "we must remem- 
 ber that our good Bishop mercifully views your conduct in the 
 light of your recent mental affliction, traces of which, unfor- 
 tunately, have lingered to cause him sorrow. And so he gra- ' 
 ciously prepares a placje for you, caro amigo, where rest and 
 relief from the strain of teaching will do you much good, and 
 where life among simple and affectionate people will restore, 
 you, he hopes, to soundness of mind." 
 
 The priest turned again to the Bishop in a complexity of 
 appeal. The soft speech of Wenceslas, so full of a double en- 
 tendu, so markedly in contrast with the Bishop's harsh but at 
 least sincere tirade, left no doubt in his mind that he was now 
 the victim of a plot, whose ramifications extended back to the 
 confused circumstances of his early life, and the doubtful pur- 
 poses of his uncle and his influence upon the sacerdotal direcr 
 
 91 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 tors in Rome. And he saw himself a helpless and hopelessly 
 entangled victim. 
 
 "Father!" In piteous appeal Jose held out his hands to the 
 Bishop, who had turned his back upon him and was busy with 
 the papers on his table. 
 
 "Amigo, the interview is ended," said Wenceslas quietly, 
 stepping between the priest and his superior. 
 
 Jose pushed wildly past the large form of Wenceslas and 
 seized the Bishop's hand. 
 
 "Santa Maria!" cried the petulant churchman. "Do you 
 obey me, or no? If not, then leave the Church — and spend your 
 remaining days as a hounded ex-priest and unfrocked apostate," 
 he finished significantly. "Go, prepare for your journey!" 
 
 Wenceslas slipped the letter and a few pesos into the haiid of 
 the smitten, bewildered Jose, and turning him to the door, 
 gently urged him out and closed it after him. 
 
 * * ' * * * * 
 
 Just why the monastery gates had opened to him after two 
 years' deadening confinement, Jose had not beeft apprised; All 
 he knew was that his uncle had appeared with a papal appoint- 
 ment for him to the University of Cartagena, and hfid urged his 
 acceptance of it as the only course likely to restore him both 
 to health and position, and to meet the deferred hopes of his 
 sorrowing mother. 
 
 "Accept it, sobrino mio," the uncle had said. "Else, pass 
 your remaining days in confinement. There can be no refuta- 
 tion of the charges against you. But, if these doors open again 
 to you, think not ever to sever your connection with the Church 
 of Rome. For, if the Rinc6n honor should prove inadequate to 
 hold you to your oath, be assured that Rincon justice will fol- 
 low you until the grave wipes out the stain upon our fair 
 name." 
 
 "Then, tio mio, let the Church at once dismiss me, as un- 
 worthy to be her son!" pleaded Jose. 
 
 "What, excommunication?" cried the horrified uncle. 
 "Never! Death first! Are you still mad?" 
 
 Jose looked into the cold, emotionless eyes of the man and 
 shuddered. The ancient spirit of the Holy Inquisition lurked 
 there, and he cowered before it. But at least the semblance of 
 freedom had been offered him. His numbed heart already had 
 taken hope. He were indeed mad not to acquiesce in his uncle's 
 demands, and accept the proffered opportunity to leave forever 
 the scenes of his suffering and disgrace. And so he bowed 
 again before the inexorable. 
 
 Arriving in Cartagena some months before this narrative 
 opens, he had gradually yielded himself to the restorative effects 
 
 92 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 of changed environment and the hope which his uncle's warm 
 assurances aroused, that a career would open to him in the 
 New World, unclouded by the climacteric episode of the pub- 
 lishing of his journal and his subsequent arrogant bearing be- 
 fore the Holy Father, which had provoked his fate. Under the 
 beneficent influences of the soft climate and the new interests 
 of this tropic land he began to feel a budding of something like 
 confidence, and the suggestions of an unfamiliar ambition to 
 retrieve past failure and yet gratify, even if in small measure, 
 the parental hope which had first directed him as a child into 
 the fold of the Church. The Bishop had assigned him at once to 
 pedagogical work in the University; and in the teaching of 
 history, the languages, and, especially, his beloved Greek, Jose 
 had found an absorption that was slowly dimming the memory 
 of the dark days which he had left behind in the Old World. 
 
 . But the University had not afforded him the only interest 
 in his new field. He had not been many weeks on Colombian 
 soil when his awakening perceptions sensed the people's op- 
 pression under the tyranny of ecclesiastical politicians. Nor 
 did he fail to scent the approach of a tremendous conflict, in 
 which the country would pass through violent throes in the 
 struggle to shake off the galling yoke of Rome. Maintaining an 
 attitude of strict neutrality, he had striven quietly to gauge the 
 anticlerical movement, and had been appalled to find it so 
 widespread and menacing. Only a miracle could save unhappy 
 Colombia from being rent by the fiercest of religious wars in 
 the near future. Oh, if he but had the will, as he had the intel- 
 lectual ability, to throw himself into the widening breach ! 
 
 "There is but one remedy," he murmured aloud, as he sat 
 one evening on a bench in the plaza of Simon Bolivar, watching 
 the stream of gaily dressed promenaders parading slowly about 
 on the tesselated walks, but hearing little of their animated con- 
 versation. 
 
 "And what is that, may I ask, friend?" 
 
 The priest roused up with a start. He had no idea that his 
 audible meditations had been overheard. Besides, he had 
 spoken in English. But this question had been framed in the 
 same tongue. He looked around. A tall, slender man, with 
 thin, bronzed face and well-trimmed Van Dyke beard, sat beside 
 him. The man laughed pleasantly. 
 
 "Didn't know that I should find any one here toruight .who 
 could speak my lingo," he said cordially. "But, I repeat, what 
 is the remedy?" 
 
 "Christianity," returned the amazed Jose, without knowing 
 what he said. 
 
 "And the condition to be remedied?" continued the stranger. 
 
 93 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "This country's diseased — but to whom have I the honor 
 of speaking?" drawing himself up a little stifiQy, and glancing 
 about to see who might be observing them. 
 
 "Oh, my credentials?" laughed the man,- as he caught Jose's 
 wondering look. "I'm quite unknown in Cartagena, unfor- 
 tunately. You must pardon my Yankee inquisitiveness, but I've 
 watched you out here for several evenings, and have wondered 
 what weighty problems you were wrestling with. A quite un- 
 pardonable offense, from the Spanish viewpoint, but wholly 
 forgivable in an uncouth American, I'm sure. Besides, when I 
 heard you speak my language it made me a bit homesick, and 
 I wanted to hear more of the rugged tongue of the Gentiles," 
 
 Laughing again good-naturedly, he reached into an inner 
 pocket and drew out a wallet. "My name's Hitt," he said, hand- 
 ing Jose his card. "But I didn't live up to it. That is, I failed 
 to make a hit up north, and so I'm down here." He chuckled 
 at his own facetiousness. "Amos A. Hitt," he went on affably. 
 "There used to be a 'Reverend' before it. That was when I was 
 exploring the Lord's throne. I've dropped it, now that I'm 
 humbly exploring His footstool instead." 
 
 Jose yielded to the man's friendly advances. This was not 
 the first American he had met; yet it seemed a new type, and 
 one that drew him strongly. 
 
 "So you think this country diseased, eh?" the American con- 
 tinued. 
 
 Jose did not answer. While there was nothing in the 
 stranger's appearance and frank, open countenance to arouse 
 suspicion, yet he must be careful. He was living down one 
 frightful mistake. He could not risk another. But the man did 
 not wait for a reply. 
 
 "Well, I'm quite agreed with you. It has priest-itis." He 
 stopped and looked curiously at Jose, as if awaiting the effect of 
 his bold words. Then — "I take it you are not really one of 'em?" 
 
 Jose stared at the man in amazement. Hitt laughed again. 
 Then he drew forth a cigar and held it out. "Smoke?" he said. 
 The priest shook his head. Hitt lighted the cigar himself, then 
 settled back on the bench, his hands jammed into his trousers 
 pockets, and his long legs stuck straight out in front, to the 
 unconcealed annoyance of the ' passers-by. But, despite his 
 brusquerie and his thoughtlessness, there was something about 
 the - American that was wonderfully attractive to the lonely 
 priest. 
 
 "Yes, sir," Hitt went on abstractedly in corroboration of his 
 former statement, "Colombia is absolutely stagnant, due to 
 Jesuitical politics, the bane of all good Catholic countries. If 
 she could shake off priestcraft she'd have a chance — ^provided 
 she didn't fall into orthodox Protestantism." 
 
 94 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Jose gasped, though he strove to hide his wonder. "You — " 
 he began hesitatingly, "you were in the ministry — ?" 
 
 "Yes. Don't be afraid to come right out with it. I was a 
 Presbyterian divine some six years ago, in Cincinnati. Ever 
 been thete?" 
 
 Jose assured him that he had never seen the States. 
 
 "H'm," mused the ex-preacher; "great country^-wonderful 
 — none like it in the world! I've been all over, Europe, Asia, 
 Africa — seen 'em all. America's the original Eden, and our 
 women are the only true descendants of mother Eve. No ques- 
 tion about it, that apple incident took place up in the States 
 somevvhere — probably in Ohio." 
 
 Jose caught the man's infectious humor and laughed 
 heartily. Surely, this American was a tonic, and of the sort 
 that he most needed. "Then, you are — still touring—?" 
 
 "I'm exploring;" Hitt replied. "I'm here to study what an- 
 cient records I may find in your library; then I shall go on to 
 Medellin and Bogota. I'm on the track of a prehistoric Inca 
 city, located somewhere in the Andes — and no doubt in the most 
 inaccessible spot imaginable. Tradition cites this lost city as 
 the cradle of Inca civilization. Tampu Tocco, it is called in 
 their legends, the place from which the Incas went out to found 
 that marvelous empire which eventually included the greater 
 part of South America. The difficulty is," he added, knotting 
 his brows, "that the city was evidently unknovvn to the Span- 
 iards. I can find no mention of it in Spanish literature, and 
 I've searched all through the libraries of Spain. My only hope 
 now is that I shall run across some document down here that 
 will allude to it, or some one who has heard likely Indian 
 rumors." 
 
 Jose rubbed his eyes and looked hard at the man. "Well!" 
 he ejaculated, "you are — if I may be permitted to say it — an 
 original type." 
 
 "I presume I am," admitted the American genially. "I've 
 been all sorts of things in my day, preacher, teacher, editor. 
 My father used to be a circuit rider in New England forty years 
 ago or more. Pious — good Lord ! Why, he was one of the kind 
 who believe the good book 'from kiver to kiver,' you know. 
 Used to preach interminable sermons about the mercy of the 
 Lord in holding us all over the smoking pit and not dropping 
 us in! Why, man! after listening to him expound the Scrip- 
 tures at night I used to go to bed with my hair on end and 
 my skin all goose-flesh. No wonder I urged him to send me to 
 the Presbyterian Seminary!" 
 
 "And you were ordained?" queried Jos6, dark memories 
 rising in his own thought. 
 
 95 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Thoroughly so! And glad I was of it, too, for I had grown 
 up as pious and orthodox as my good father. I considered the 
 ordination a through ticket to paradise." 
 
 "But— now— " 
 
 "Oh, I found myself in time," continued the man, ajiswering 
 Jose's unspoken thought. "Then I stopped preaching beautiful 
 legends, and tried to be genuinely helpful to my congregation. 
 I had a fine church in Cincinnati at that time. But — well, I 
 mixed a trifle too much heresy into my up-to-date sermons, I 
 guess. Anyway, the Assembly didn't approve my orthodoxy, 
 and I had as little respect for its heterodoxy, and the upshot 
 of it was that I quit — cold." He laughed grimly as he finished 
 the recital. "But," he went on gravely, "I now see that it was 
 due simply to my desire to progress beyond the acceptance of 
 tradition and allegory as truth, and to find some better founda- 
 tion upon which to build than the undemonstrable articles of 
 faith embraced in the Westminster Confession. To me, that 
 confession of faith had become a confession of ignorance." He 
 turned his shrewd eyes upon Jose. "I was in somewhat the 
 same mental state that I think you are in now," he added. 
 
 "And why, if I may ask, are you now exploring?" asked 
 Jose, disregarding the implication. 
 
 "Oh, as for that," replied the American easily, "I used to 
 teach history and became especially interested in ancient civili- 
 zations, lost cities, and the like, in the Western Hemisphere. 
 Long before I left the ministry oil was struck on our little Penn- 
 sylvania farm, and — well, I didn't have to work after that. So 
 for some years I've devoted myself strictly to my particular 
 hobby of travel. And in my work I find it necessary to discard 
 ceremony, and scrape acquaintance with all sorts and condi- 
 tions. I especially cultivate clergymen. I've wanted to know 
 you ever since I first saw you out here. • But I couldn't wait for 
 a formal introduction. And so I broke in unceremoniously upon 
 your meditations a few moments ago." 
 
 "I am grateful to you for doing so," said Jose frankly, hold- 
 ing out a hand. "There is much that you can tell me — much 
 that I want to know. But — " He again looked cautiously 
 around. 
 
 "Ah, I understand," said Hitt, quickly sensing the priest's 
 uneasiness. "What say you, shall we meet somewhere down by 
 the city wall? Say, at the old Inquisition cells?" 
 
 Jos^ nodded his acquiescence, and they separated. A few 
 minutes later the two were seated in one of the cavernous arch- 
 ways of the long, echoing corridor which leads to the deserted 
 barracks and the gloomy, bat-infested cells beneath. A vagrant 
 breeze drifted now and then across the grim wall above them, 
 
 96 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 and the deserted road in front lay drenched in the yellow light 
 of the tropic moon. There was little likelihood of detection here, 
 where the dreamy plash of the sea drowned the low sound of 
 their voices ; and Jose breathed more freely than in the populous 
 plaza which they had just left. 
 
 "Good Lord!" muttered the explorer, returning from a peep 
 into the foul blackness of a subterranean tunnel, "imagine what 
 took place here some three centuries ago!" 
 
 "Yes,^ returned Jose sadly; "and in the reeking dungeons 
 of San Fernando, out there at the harbor entrance. And, what 
 is worse, my own ancestors were among the perpetrators of 
 those black deeds committed in the name of Christ." 
 
 "Whew! You don't say! Tell me about it." The ex- 
 plorer drew closer. Jose knew somehow that he could trust 
 this stranger, and so he briefly sketched his ancestral story to 
 his sympathetic listener. "And no one knows," he cgncluded 
 in a depressed tone, "how many of the thousands of victims of 
 the Inquisition in Cartagena were sent to their doom by the 
 house of Rincon. It may be," he sighed, "that the sins of my 
 fathers have been visited upon me — that I am now paying in 
 part the penalty for their criminal zeal." 
 
 The explorer sat for some time in silent meditation. "Per- 
 haps," he said, "your family fell under the spell of old Saint 
 Dominic. You know the legend? How God deliberated long 
 whether to punish the wickedness of mankind by sending down 
 war, plague, or famine, and was finally prevailed upon by Saint 
 Dominic to send, instead, the Holy Inquisition. Another choice 
 example of the convenient way the world has always had of 
 attributing the foulest deeds of men to the Almighty. No won- 
 der religion has so woefully declined!" 
 
 "But is it so up in the great North?" asked Jose. "Tell me, 
 what is the religious status there? My limitations have been 
 such that I have — I have not kept abreast of current theological 
 thought." 
 
 "In the United States the conventional, passive submission 
 to Orthodox dogma is rapidly becoming a thing of the past," the 
 explorer replied. "The people are beginning to think on these 
 topics. All human opinion, philosophical, religious, or scien- 
 tific, is in a state of liquefaction — not yet solidified. Just what 
 Xvill crystallize out of the magma is uncertain. The country 
 is experiencing a religious crisis, and an irresistible determina- 
 tion to know is abroad in the land. Everything is being turned 
 upside-down, and one hardly dares longer say what he believes, 
 for the dogma of to-day is the fairy-tale of to-morrow. And, 
 through it all, as some one has tersely said, 'orthodoxy is hang- 
 ing onto the coat-tails of progress in a vain attempt to stop 
 
 97 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 her.' We are facing in the United States the momentous ques- 
 tion, Is Christianity a failure? Although no one knows what 
 Christianity really is. But one thing is certain, the brand of 
 Christianity handed out by Protestant and Catholic alike is 
 mighty close to the borderline of dismal failure." 
 
 "But is there in the North no distinct trend in religious be- 
 lief?" queried Jose. 
 
 The explorer hestitated. "Yes," he said slowly, "there is. 
 The man who holds and promulgates any belief, religious or 
 scientific, is being more and more insistently forced to the point 
 of demonstration. The citation of patristic authority is becom- 
 ing daily more thoroughly obsolete." 
 
 "And there is no one who dermonstrates practical Chris- 
 tianity?" 
 
 "No. Do you? Is there any one in your Church, or in the 
 Protestant faith, who does the works which Christ is reported 
 to have done? Is there any one who really tries to do -them? 
 Or thinks he could if he tried? The good church Fathers from 
 the third century down could figure out that the world was 
 created on the night before the twenty-third of October, four 
 thousand and four B. C, and that Adarh's fall occurred about 
 noon of the day he was created. They could dilate ad nauseam 
 on transubstantiation, the divine essence, and the mystery of 
 the Trinity; they could astonishingly allegorize the Bible le- 
 gends, and read into every word a deep, hidden, incomprehen- 
 sible sense; they could prove to their own satisfaction that 
 Adam composed certain of the Psalms ; that Moses wrote every 
 word of the. Pentateuch, even the story of his own death and 
 burial; and that the entire Bible was delivered by God to man, 
 word for word, just as it stands, including the punctuation. 
 And yet, not one of them followed the simple commands of 
 Jesus closely enough to enable him to cure a toothache, to say 
 nothing of generally healing the sick and raising the dead ! Am 
 I not right?" 
 
 "Yes — I am sorry to have to admit," murmured Jose. 
 
 "Well," went on the explorer, "that's what removed me 
 from the Presbyterian ministry. It is not Christianity that is 
 a dismal failure, but men's interpretation of it. Of true Cliris- 
 tianity, I confess I know little. Oh, I'm a fine preacher ! And 
 yet I am representative of thousands of others, like myself, all 
 at sea. Only, the others are either ashamed or afraid to make 
 this confession. But, in my case, my daily bread did not depend 
 upon my continuance in the pulpit," 
 
 "But supposing that it had — " 
 
 "The result doubtless would have been the same. The ortho- 
 dox faith was utterly failing to supply me with a satisfying in- 
 
 98 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 terpretation of life, and it afforded me no means of escaping 
 the discords of mundane existence. It could only hold out an 
 undemonstrable promise of a life after death, provided I was 
 elected, and provided I did not too greatly offend the Creator 
 during the few short years that I might spend on earth. If I 
 did that, then, according to the glorious Westminster Confes- 
 sion, I was doomed — for we are not so fortunate as you in hav- 
 ing a purgatory from which we may escape through the suf- 
 frages of the faithful," he concluded with a chuckle. 
 
 Jose knew, as he listened, that his own Church would hold 
 this man a blasphemer. The man by his own confession was 
 branded a Protestant heretic. And he, Jose, was anathema for 
 listening to these sincere* brutally frank confidences, and ten- 
 dering them his warm sympathy. Yet he sat spellbound. 
 
 "And so I retired from the ministry," continued the ex- 
 plorer. "I had become ashamed of tearing down other men's 
 religious beliefs. I was weary of having to apologize constantly 
 for the organization to which I was attached. At home I had 
 been taught a devout faith in revealed religion; in the world I 
 was thrown upon its inquiring doubts; I yearned for faith, yet 
 demanded scientific proof. Why, I would have been satisfied 
 with even the slight degree of proof which we are able to ad- 
 vance for our various physical sciences. But, no, it was not 
 forthcoming. I must believe because the Fathers had believed. 
 I struggled between emotion and reason, until — well, until I 
 had to throw it all over to keep from going mad." 
 
 Jose bowed in silence before this recital of a soul-experience 
 so closely paralleling his own. 
 
 "But, come," said the explorer cheerily, "I'm doing all the 
 talking. Now — " 
 
 "No! no!" interrupted the eager Jose. "I do not wish to 
 talk. I want to hear you. Go on, I beg of you ! Your words are 
 like rain to a parched field. You will yet offer me something 
 upon which I can build with new hope." 
 
 "Do not be so sanguine, my friend," r^eturned the explorer 
 in a kindly tone. • "I fear I shall be only the reaper, who cuts 
 the weeds and stubble, and prepares the field for the sower. I 
 have said that I am an explorer. But my field is not, limited to 
 this material world. I am an explorer of men's thoughts as 
 well. I am in search of a religion. I manifest this century's 
 earnest quest for demonstrable truth. And so I stop and ques- 
 tion every one I meet, if perchance he may point me in the 
 right direction. My incessant wandering about the gl^ie is, if 
 I may put it that way, but the outward manifestation of my 
 ceaseless search in the realm of the soul." 
 
 He paused. Then, reaching out and laying a hand upon the 
 
 99 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 priest's knee, he said in a low, earnest voice, "My friend, some- 
 thing happened in that first year of our so-called Christian era. 
 What it was we do not know. But out of the smoke and dust, 
 the haze and mist of that great cataclysm has proceeded the 
 character Jesus — absolutely unique. It is a character which 
 has had a terrific influence upon the world ever since. Because 
 of it empires have crumbled; a hundred million human lives 
 have been destroyed; and the thought^processes of a world have 
 been overthrown or reversed. Just what he said, just what he 
 did, just how he came, and how he went, we may not know with 
 any high degree of accuracy. But, beneath all the myth and 
 legend, the lore and childish human speculation of the inter- 
 vening centuries, there must be a foundation of eternal truth. 
 And it must be broad — ^very broad. I am digging for it — as I 
 dug on the sites of ancient Troy and Babylon — as I have dug 
 over the buried civilizations of Mexico and Yucatan — as I shall 
 dig for the hidden Inca towns on the wooded heights of the 
 Andes. And while I dig materially I am also digging spir- 
 itually." 
 
 "And what have you found?" asked Jose hoarsely. 
 
 "I am still in the overburden of ddbris which the sedulous, 
 tireless Fathers heaped mountain high upon the few recorded 
 teachings of Jesus. But already I see indications of things to 
 come that would make the members of the Council of Trent and 
 the cocksure framers of the Westminster Confession burst from 
 their graves by sheer force of astonishment! There are even 
 now foreshadowings of such revolutionary changes in our con- 
 cept of God, of the universe, of matter, and the human mind, 
 of evil, and all the controverted points of theological discussion 
 of this day, as to make me tremble when I contemplate them. 
 In my first hasty judgment, after dipping into the 'Higher Crit- 
 icism,' I concluded that Jesus was but a charlatan, who had 
 learned thaumaturgy in Egypt and practiced it in Judea. 
 Thanks to a better appreciation of the same 'Higher Criticism' 
 I am reconstructing my concept of him now, and on a better 
 basis. I once denounced God as the creator of both good and 
 evil, and of a man who He knew must inevitably fall, even 
 before the clay of which he was made had become fairly dry. 
 I changed that concept later to Matthew Arnold's 'that some- 
 thing not ourselves that makes for righteousness.' But mighty 
 few to-day recognize such a God! Again, in Jesus' teaching that 
 sin brought death into the world, I began to see what is so dimly 
 foreshadowed to-day, the mental nature of all things. 'Sin' is 
 the English translation of the original 'hamartio,' which means, 
 'to miss the mark,' a term used in archery. Well, then, missing 
 the mark is the mental result of nonconformity to law, is it 
 
 100 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 not? And, going further, if death is the result of missing the 
 mark, and that is itself due to mental cause, and, since death 
 results from sickness, old age, or catastrophe, then these things 
 must likewise be mental. Sickness, therefore, becomes wholly 
 mental, does it not? Death becomes mental. Sin is mental. 
 Spirit, the Creator, is mental. Matter is mental. And we live 
 and act in a mental realm, do we not? The sick man, then, be- 
 comes one who misses the mark, and therefore a sinner. I 
 think you will agree with me that the sick man is not at peace 
 with God, if God is 'that which makes for righteousness.' Surely 
 the maker of that old Icelandic sixteenth-century Bible must 
 have been inspired when, translating from Luther's Bible, he 
 wrote in the first chapter of Genesis, 'And God created man 
 after His own likeness, in the likeness of Mind shaped He him.' 
 Cannot you see the foreshadowing to which I have referred?" 
 
 Jose kept silence. The current of his thought seemed about 
 to swerve from its wonted course. 
 
 "What is coming is this," continued the explorer earnestly, 
 "a tremendous broadening of our concept of God, a more ex- 
 alted, a more worthy concept of Him as spirit — or, if you will, 
 as mind.^ An abandonment of the puerile concept of Him as a 
 sort of magnified man, susceptible to the influence of preachers, 
 or of Virgin and Saints, and yielding to their petitions, to their 
 higher sense of justice, and to money-bought earthly ceremonies 
 to lift an imaginary curse from His own creatures. And with 
 it will come that wonderful consciousness of Him which I now 
 begin to realize that Jesus must have had, a consciousness of 
 Him as omnipotent, omnipresent good. As I to-day read the 
 teachings of Jesus I am constrained to believe that he was con- 
 scious only of God and God's spiritual manifestation. And in 
 that remarkable consciousness the man Jesus realized his own 
 life — ^indeed, that consciousness was his life — and it included 
 no sense of evil. The great lesson which I draw from it is that 
 evil must, therefore, be utterly unreal and non-existent. And 
 heaven is but the acquisition of that mind or consciousness 
 which was in Christ Jesus." 
 
 "But, Mr. Hitt, such ideas are revolutionary!" 
 
 "True, if immediately and generally adopted. And so you 
 see why the Church strives to hold the people to its own archaic 
 and innocuous religious tenets; why your Church strives so 
 zealously to hold its adherents fast to the rules laid down by 
 pagan emperors and ignorant, often illiterate churchmen, in 
 their councils and synods; and why the Protestant church is so 
 quick to denounce as unevangelical everything that does not 
 measure to its devitalized concept of Christianity. They do 
 not practice what they preach; yet they would not have you 
 
 101 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 practice anything else. The human mind that calls itself a 
 Christian is a funny thing, isn't it?" 
 
 He laughed lightly; then lapsed into silence. The sea breeze 
 rose and sighed among the great, incrusted arches. The restless 
 waves moaned in their eternal assault upon the defiant walls. 
 The moon clouded, and a warm rain began to fall. Jose rose. 
 "I must return to the dormitory," he announced briefly. "When 
 you pass me in the plaza to-morrow evening, come at once to 
 this place. I will meet you here. You have — I must — " 
 
 But he did not finish. Pressing the explorer's hand, he 
 turned abruptly and hurried up the dim, narrow street. 
 
 CHAPTER 14 
 
 ALL through the following day the priest mused over the 
 conversation of the preceding night. The precipitation 
 with which this new friendship had been formed, and the 
 subsequent abrupt exchange of confidences, had scarcely im- 
 pressed him as unusual. He was wholly absorbed by the radical 
 thought which the man had voiced. He mulled over it in his 
 wakeful hours that night. He could not prevent it from color- 
 ing the lecture which he delivered to his class in ancient his- 
 tory that day. And when the sun at length dropped behind La 
 Popa, he hurried eagerly to the plaza. A few minutes later he 
 and the ex-clergyman met in the appointed rendezvous. 
 
 "I dropped in to have a look at the remains of Pedro Claver 
 to-day," his new friend remarked. "The old sexton scraped and 
 bowed with huge joy as he led me behind the altar and lighted 
 up the grewsome thing. I suppose he believed that Pedro's soul 
 was up in the clouds making intercession with the Lord for 
 him, while he, poor devil, was toting tourists around to gaze 
 at the Saint's ghastly bones in their glass coffin. The thing 
 would be funny were it not for its sad side, namely, the dense 
 and superstitious ignorance in which such as this poor sexton 
 are held all their lives by your Church. It's a shame to feed 
 them with the bones of dead Saints, instead of with the bread of 
 life! But," he reflected, "I was myself just as bigoted at one 
 time. And my zeal to convert the world to Protestantism was 
 just as hot as any that ever animated the missionaries of your 
 faith." 
 
 He paused and looked quizzically at Jose. He seemed to be 
 studying the length to which he could go in his criticism of 
 the ancient faith of the house of Rinc6n. But Jose remained 
 in expectant silence. 
 
 102 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Speaking of missionaries," the man resumed, "I shall never' 
 forget an experience I had in China. My wealthy and ultra- 
 aristocratic congregation decided that I needed rest, and so 
 sent me on a world tour. It was a member of that same con- 
 gregation, by the way, a stuffy old dame whose wealth footed 
 up to millions, who once remarked to me in all confidence that 
 she had no doubt the aristocracy of heaven was composed of 
 Presbyterians. Poor, old, empty-headed prig ! What could I do 
 but assure her that I held the same comforting conviction! 
 Well, through influential friends in Pekin I was introduced to 
 the eminent Chinese statesman, Wang Fo, of delightful memory. 
 Our conversation turned on religion, and then I made the most 
 inexcusable faux pas that a blithering Yankee could make, that 
 of expressing regret that he was not of our faith. Good heavens ! 
 But he was the most gracious gentleman in the world, and his 
 biting rebuke was couched in tones of silken softness. 
 
 " 'What is it that you offer me?' he said mildly. 'Blind 
 opinion? Undemonstrated and undemonstrable theory? Why, 
 may I ask, do you come over here to convert us heathen, when 
 your own Christian land is rife with evil, with sedition, with 
 religious hatred of man for man, with bloodshed and greed? 
 If your religious belief is true, then you can demonstrate it — 
 prove it beyond doubt. Do you say that the wonderful mate- 
 rial progress which your great country manifests is due to 
 Christianity? I answer you, no. It is due to the unfettering of 
 the human mind, to the laying off of much of the mediaeval 
 superstition which in the past ages has blighted mankind. It 
 is due largely to the abandonment of much of what you are 
 still pleased to call Christianity. The liberated human mind 
 has expanded to a degree never before seen in the world. We 
 Chinese are still mentally fettered by our stubborn resistance to 
 change, to progression. Your great inventors and your great 
 men of finance are but little hampered by religious superstition. 
 Hence the mental flights which they so boldly undertake, and 
 the stupendous achievements they attain. Is it not so?' 
 
 "What could I say? He had me. But he hadn't finished me 
 quite. 
 
 " 'I once devoted much time to the study of Chemistry,' he 
 went on blandly, 'and when I tell you that there is a law to 
 the effect that the volume of a gas is a function of its pres- 
 sure I do so with the full knowledge that I can furnish you 
 indisputable proof therefor. But when you come to me with 
 your religious theories, and I mildly request your proofs, you 
 wish to imprison or hang me for doubting the absurdities which 
 you cannot establish!' 
 
 "He laughed genially, then took me kindly by the arm. 
 
 103 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 'Proof, my zealous friend, proof,' he said. 'Give me proof this 
 side of the grave for what you believe, and then you will have 
 converted the heathen. And can your Catholic friend — or, 
 shall I say enemy? — ^prove his laughable doctrine of purgatory? 
 The dead in purgatory dependent upon the living ! Why, I tell 
 him, that smacks of Shintoism, wherein the living feed the 
 dead! Then he points in holy indignation to the Bible. Bah! 
 Cannot I prove anything I may wish from your Bible? What 
 will you have? Polygamy? Incest? Murder? Graft? Hand 
 me your Bible, and I will establish its divinity. No, my good 
 friend. When you come to me with proofs that you really do 
 the works of him whom you profess to follow, then will I 
 gladly listen, for I, too, seek truth. But in the present deplora- 
 ble absence of proofs I take much more comfort in the adora- 
 tion of my amiable ancestors than I could in your laughable 
 and undemonstrable religious creeds.' 
 
 "I left his presence a saddened but chastened man, and went 
 home to do a little independent thinking. When I approached 
 my Bible without the bias of the Westminster Confession I dis- 
 covered that it did serve admirably as a wardrobe in which to 
 hang any sort of religious prejudice. Continued study made 
 me see that religious faith is generally mere human credulity. 
 I discovered that in my pitying contempt for those of differing 
 belief I much resembled the Yankee who ridiculed a Chinaman 
 for wearing a pig-tail. 'True,' the Celestial replied, 'we still 
 wear the badge of our former slavery. But you emancipated 
 Americans, do you not wear the badge of a present and much 
 worse form of slavery in your domination by Tammany Hall, 
 by your corrupt politicians, and your organizers and protectors 
 of crime?' 
 
 "As time passed I gradually began to feel much more 
 kindly toward Matthew Arnold, who said, 'Orthodox theology 
 is an immense misunderstanding of the Bible.' And I began 
 likewise to respect his statement that our Bible language is 
 'fluid and passing' — that much of it is the purest poetry, beau- 
 tiful and inspiring, but symbolical." 
 
 "But," broke in Jose, "you must admit that there is some- 
 thing awfully wrong with the world, with — " 
 
 "Well," interrupted Hitt, "and what is it? As historical 
 fact, that story about Adam and Eve eating an apple and there- 
 by bringing down God's curse upon the whole ihnocent human 
 race is but a figment of little minds, and an insult to divine in- 
 telligence. But, as symbolizing the dire penalty we pay for a 
 belief in the reality of both good and evil — ah, that is a note 
 just beginning to be sounded in the world at large. And it 
 may account for the presence of the world's evil." 
 
 104 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Yet, our experience certainly shows that evil is just as real 
 and just as immanent as good! And, indeed, more powerful 
 in this life." 
 
 "If so," replied the explorer gravely, "then God created or 
 instituted it. And in that case I must break with God." 
 
 "Then you think it is all a question of our own individual 
 idea of God?" 
 
 "Entirely. And human concepts of Him have been many 
 and varied. But that worst of Old Testament interpreters of 
 the first century, Philo, came terribly close to the truth, I 
 think, when, in a burst of inspiration, he one day wrote : 'Heav- 
 en is mind, and earth is sensation.' Matthew Arnold, I think, 
 likewise came very close to the truth when he said that the 
 only God we can recognize is 'that something not ourselves 
 that makes for righteousness.' And, as for evil, up in the United 
 States there are some who are now lumping i-t all under the 
 head of 'mortal mind,' considering it all but the 'one lie' which 
 Jesus so often referred to, and regarding it as the 'suppositional 
 opposite' of the mind that is God, and so, powerless. Not a bad 
 idea, I think. But whether the money-loving Yankee will ever 
 leave his mad chase for gold long enough to live this premise 
 and so demonstrate it, is a question. I'm watching its develop- 
 ment with intense interest. We in the States have wonderful, 
 exceptional opportunities for study and research. We ought to 
 uncover the truth, if any people should." 
 
 He fell into thoughtfulness again. Jose drew a long sigh. 
 "I wish — I wish," he murmured, "that I might go there — that I 
 might live and work and search up there." 
 
 The explorer roused up. "And why not?" he asked abruptly. 
 "Look here, come with me and spend a year or so digging 
 around for buried Inca towns. Then we will go back to the 
 States. Why, man! it would make you over. I'll take you as 
 interpreter. And in the States I'll find a place for you. Come. 
 Will you?" 
 
 For a moment the doors of imagination swung wide, and in 
 the burst of light from within Jose saw the dreams of a life- 
 time fulfilled. Emancipation lay that way. Freedom, soul- 
 expansion, truth. It was his God-given privilege. Who had 
 the right to lay a detaining hand upon him? Was not his soul 
 his own, and his God's? 
 
 Then a dark hand stole out from the surrounding shadows 
 and closed the doors. From the blackness there seemed to rise 
 a hollow voice, uttering the single word. Honor. He thrust out 
 an arm, as if to ward off the assaults of temptation. "No, no," 
 he said aloud, "I am bound to the Church!" 
 
 "But why remain longer in an institution with which you 
 are quite out of sympathy?" the explorer urged. 
 
 105 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "First, to help the Church. Who will uplift her if we de- 
 sert her? And, second, to help this, my ancestral country," 
 replied Jose in deep earnestness. 
 
 "Worthy aims, both," assented Hitt. "But, my friend, what 
 will you accomplish here, unless you can educate these peo- 
 ple to think? I have learned much about conditions in this 
 country. I find that the priest in Colombia is even more in- 
 tolerant than in Ireland, for here he has a monopoly, no com- 
 petition. He is absolute. The Colombian is the logical product 
 of the doctrines of Holy Church. It is so in Mexico. It is so 
 wherever the curse of a fixed mentality is imposed upon a 
 people. For that engenders determined opposition to mobility. 
 It quenches responsiveness to new concepts and hew ideas. It 
 throttles a nation. The bane of mental progress is the Semper 
 Idem of your Church." 
 
 "Christianity will remove the curse." 
 
 "I have no dpubt whatever of that. It probably is the future 
 cure for all social ills and evils of every sort. But if so, it 
 must be the Christianity which Jesus taught and demonstrated 
 — not the theological chaff now disseminated in his name. Do 
 not forget that we no longer know what Christianity is. It is 
 a lost science." 
 
 "It can and will be recovered!" cried Jose warmly. 
 
 "I have said that is foreshadowed. But we must have the 
 whole garment of the Christ, without human addenda. He is 
 reported as having said, 'The works that I do bear witness of 
 me.' Now the works of the Christian Church bear ample wit- 
 ness that she has not the true understanding of the Christ. Nor 
 has that eminent Protestant divine, now teaching in a theologi- 
 cal seminary in the States, who recently said that, although 
 Jesus ministered miraculously to the physical man, yet it was 
 not his intention that his disciples should continue that sort of 
 ministry; that the healing which Jesus did was wholly inciden- 
 tal, and was not an example to be permanently imitated. Good 
 heavens! how these poor theologians hide their inability to do 
 the works of the Master by taking refuge in such ridiculously 
 unwarranted assertions. To them the rule seems to be that, 
 if you can't do a thing you must deny the possibility of its 
 being done. Great logic, isn't it? 
 
 "And yet," he went on, "the Church has had nearly two 
 thousand years in which to learn to do the works of the Master. 
 Pretty dull pupil, I think. And we've had nearly two thousand 
 years of theology from this slow pupil. Would that she would 
 from now on give us a little real Christianity! Heavens! the 
 world needs it. And yet, do you know, sectarian feeling is 
 still so bitter in the so-called Church of God that if a Bishop of 
 
 106 
 
CARMEN ARlZA 
 
 the Anglican Church should admit Presbyterians, Methodists, 
 or members of other denominations to his communion table a 
 scream of rage would go up all over England, and a mighty de- 
 mand would be raised to impeach the Bishop for heresy! 
 Think of it! God above! the puny human mind. Do you 
 wonder that the dogma of the Church has lost force? That, 
 despite its thunders, thinking men laugh? I freely admit that 
 our great need is to find an adequate substitute for the authority 
 which others would like to impose upon us. But where shall we 
 find such authority, if not in those who demonstrate their 
 ability to do the works of the Master? Show me your works, 
 and I'll show you my faith. This is my perpetual challenge. 
 
 "But, now," he said, "returning to the subject so near your 
 heart: the condition of this country is that of a large part of 
 South America, where the population is unsettled, even turbu- 
 lent, and where a priesthood, fanatical, intolerant, often un- 
 scrupulous, pursue their devious means to extend and perpet- 
 uate unhindered the sway of your Church. Colombia is strug- 
 gling to remove the blight which Spain laid upon her, namely, 
 mediaeval religion. It is this same blighting religion, coupled 
 with her remorseless greed, which has brought Spain to her 
 present decrepit, empty state. And how she did strive to 
 force that religion upon the world! Whole nations, like the 
 Incas, for example, ruthlessly slaughtered by the papal-ben- 
 isoned riffraff of Spain in her attempts to foist herself into 
 world prestige and to bolster up the monstrous assumptions of 
 Holy Church! The Incas were a grand nation, with a splendid 
 mental viewpoint. But it withered under the touch of the 
 mediaeval narrowness fastened upon it. Whole nations wasted 
 in support of papal assumjJtions — and do you think that the 
 end is yet? Far from it! War is coming here in Colombia. It 
 may come in other parts of this Western Hemisphere, certainly 
 in Mexico, certainly in Peru and Bolivia and Chili, rocked in 
 the cradle of Holy Church for ages, but now at last awaking to 
 a sense of their backward condition and its cause. If ever the 
 Church had a chance to show what she could do when given a 
 free hand, she has had it in these countries, particularly in 
 Mexico. In all the nearly four centuries of her unmolested 
 control in that fair land, oppressed by sword and crucifix, did 
 she ever make an attempt worth the name to uplift and emanci- 
 pate the common man? Not one. She took his few, hard-earned 
 pesos to get his weary soul out of an imagined purgatory — ^but 
 she left him to rot in peonage while on earth! But, friend, I 
 repeat, the struggle is coming here in Colombia. And look you 
 well to your own escape when it arrives!" 
 
 "And can I do nothing to help avert it?" cried the distressed 
 Jose. 
 
 107 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Well," returned the explorer meditatively, "such bondage 
 is removable either through education or war. But in Colombia 
 I fear the latter will overtake the former by many decades." 
 
 "Then rest assured that I shall in the meantime do what in 
 me lies to instruct my fellow-countrymen, and to avoid such a 
 catastrophe!" 
 
 "Good luck to you, friend. And — ^by the way, here is a 
 little book that may help you in your work. I'm quite sure 
 you've never read it. Under the ban, you know. Kenan's Vie 
 de Jesus. It can do you no harm, and may be useful." 
 
 Jose reached out and took the little volume. It was anath- 
 ema, he knew, but he could not refuse to accept it, 
 
 "And there is another book that I strongly recommend to 
 you. I'm sorry I haven't a copy here. It once created quite a 
 sensation. It is called, 'Confessions of a Roman Catholic Priest.' 
 Published anonymously, in Vienna, but unquestionably bear- 
 ing the earmarks of authenticity. It mentions this country — " 
 
 Without speaking, Josd had slowly risen and started down 
 the musty corridor, his thought aflame with the single desire to 
 get away. Down past the empty barracks and gaping cells he 
 went, without stopping to peer into their tenebrous depths — on 
 and on, skirting the grim walls that typified the mediaevalism 
 surrounding and fettering his restless thought — on to the long 
 incline which led up to the broad esplanade on the summit. 
 Must he forever flee this pursuing Nemesis? Or should he hurl 
 himself from the wall, once he gained the top? At the upper 
 end of the incline he heard the low sound of voices. A priest 
 and a young girl who sat there on the parapet rose as he ap- 
 proached. He stopped abruptly in front of them, "Wenceslas!" 
 he exclaimed. "And Maria!" • 
 
 "Ah, amigo, a quiet stroll before retiring? It is a sultry 
 night." 
 
 "Yes," slowly replied Jose, looking at the girl, who drew 
 back into the shadow cast by the body of her companion. Then, 
 bowing, he passed on down the wall and disappeared in the 
 darkness that shrouded the distance. 
 
 A few minutes later the long form of the explorer appeared 
 above the incline. Wenceslas and the girl had departed. Seeing 
 no one, the American turned and descended to the ground, 
 shaking his head in deep perplexity. 
 
 108 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 15 
 
 THE next day was one of the Church's innumerable feast- 
 days, and Jose was free to utilize it as he might. He 
 determined on a visit to the suburb of Turbaco, some 
 eight miles from Cartagena, and once the site of Don Ignacio's 
 magnificent country home. Although he had been some months 
 in Cartagena, he had never before felt any desire to pass beyond 
 its walls. Now it seemed to him that he must break the limi- 
 tation which those encircling walls typified, that his restless 
 thought might expand ere it formulated into definite concepts 
 and plans for future work. This morning he wanted to be 
 alone. The old injury done to his sensitive spirit by the pub- 
 lication of his journal had been unwittingly opened anew. The 
 old slowness had crept again into his gait since the evening 
 before. Over night his countenance had resumed its wonted 
 heaviness; and his slender shoulders bent again beneath their 
 former burden. 
 
 When Jose arrived in Cartagena he had found it a city of 
 vivid contrasts. There mediaevalism still strove with the spirit 
 of modern progress ; and so it suited well as an environment for 
 the dilation of his shrunken soul-arteries. The lethal influence 
 of the monastery long lay over him, beneath which he con- 
 tinued to manifest those eccentric habits which his prolonged 
 state of loneliness had engendered. He looked askance at the 
 amenities which his associates tentatively held out to him. He 
 sank himself deep in study, and for weeks, even months, he 
 shunned the world of people and things. He found no stimulus 
 to a search for his ancestral palace within the city, nor for a 
 study of the Rincon records which lay moldering in the ancient 
 city's archives. 
 
 But, as the sunlit days drifted dreamily past with peaceful, 
 unvarying monotony, Jose's faculties, which had always been 
 alert until he had been declared insane, gradually awakened. 
 His violently disturbed balance began to right itself; his equilib- 
 rium became in a measure restored. The deadening thought 
 that he had accomplished nothing in his vitiated life yielded to 
 a hopeful determination to yet retrieve past failure. The pride 
 and fear which had balked the thought of self-destruction now 
 served to fan the flame of fresh resolve. He dared not do any 
 writing,- it was true. But he could delve and study. And a 
 thousand avenues opened to him through which he could serve 
 his fellow-men. The papal instructions which his traveling 
 companion, the Apostolic Delegate, had brought to the Bishop 
 
 109 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 of Cartagena, evidently had sufficed for his credentials; and 
 the latter had made no occasion to refer to the priest's past. An 
 order from the Vatican was law; and the Bishop obeyed it with 
 no other thought than its inerrancy and inexorahility. And 
 with the lapse of the several months which had slipped rapidly 
 away while he sought to forget and to clear from his mind the 
 dark clouds of melancholia which had settled over it, Jose be- 
 came convinced that the Bishop knew nothing of his career 
 prior to his arrival in Colombia. 
 
 And it is possible that the young priest's secret would, have 
 died with him — that he would have lived out his life amid the 
 peaceful scenes of this old, romantic town, and gone to his long 
 rest at l&st with the consciousness of having accomplished his 
 mite in the service of his fellow-beings ; it is possible that Rome 
 would have forgotten him; and that his uncle's ambitions, to 
 which he knew that he had been regarded as in some way use- 
 ful, would have flagged and perished over the watery waste 
 which separated the New World from the Old, but for the iji- 
 tervention of one man, who crossed Jose's path early in his 
 new life, found him inimiqal to his own worldly projects, and 
 removed him, therefore, as sincerely in the name of Christ as 
 the ancient Conquistadores, with priestly blessing, hewed from 
 their paths of conquest the simple and harmless aborigines. 
 
 That man was Wenceslas Ortiz, trusted servant of Holy 
 Church, who had established himself in Cartagena to keep a 
 watchful eye on anticlerical proceedings. ' That he was able to 
 do this, and at the same time turn them greatly to his own 
 advantage, marks him as a man of more than usually keen and 
 resourceful mentality. He was a native son, born of prosperous 
 parents in the riverine town of Mompox, which, until the erratic 
 Magdalena sought for itself a new channel, was the chief port 
 between Barranquilla and the distant Honda. There had been 
 neither family custom nor parental hopes to consider among 
 the motives which had directed him into the Church. He was a 
 born worldling, but with unmistakable talents for and keen 
 appreciation of the art of politics. His love of money was sub- 
 ordinate only to his love of power. To both, his talents made 
 access easy. In the contemplation of a career in his early years 
 he had hesitated long between the Church and the Army; but 
 had finally thrown his lot with the former, as offering not only 
 equal possibilities of worldly preferment and riches, but far 
 greater stability in those periodic revolutions to which his 
 country was so addicted. The Army was frequently over- 
 thrown; the Church, never. The Government changed with 
 every successful political revolution; the Church remained im- 
 movable. And so with the art of a trained politician he culti- 
 
 110 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 vated his chosen field with such intensity that even the Holy 
 See felt the glow of his ardor, and in recognition of his marked 
 abilities, his pious fervor and great influence, was constrained 
 to place him just where he wished to be, at the right hand of 
 the Bishop of Cartagena, and probable successor to that aged 
 incumbent, who had grown to lean heavily and confidingly upon 
 him. 
 
 As coadjutor, or suffragan to the Bishop of Cartagena, Wen- 
 ceslas Ortiz had at length gathered unto himself sufficient in- 
 fluence of divers nature as, in his opinion, to ensure him the 
 See in case the bishopric should, as was contemplated, be 
 raised eventually to the status of a Metropolitan. It was he, 
 rather than the Bishop, who distributed parishes to ambitious 
 pastors and emoluments to greedy politicians. His irons in 
 ecclesiastical, political, social and commercial fires were in- 
 numerable. The doctrine of the indivisibility of Church and 
 State had in him an able champion — ^but only because he 
 thereby found a sure means of increasing his prestige and aug- 
 menting his power and wealth. His methods of work mani- 
 fested keenness, subtlety, shrewdness and skill. His rewards 
 were lavish. His punishments, terrible. The latter smacked of 
 the Inquisition: he preferred torture to quick despatch. 
 
 It had not taken Wenceslas long to estimate the character 
 of the newcomer, Jose. Nor was he slow to perceive that this 
 liberal pietist was cast in an unusual mold. Polity necessitated 
 the cultivation of Jose, as it required the friendship — or, in any 
 event, the thorough appraisement — of every one with whom 
 Wenceslas might be associated. But the blandishments, arti- 
 fice, diplomacy and hints of advancements which he poured out 
 in profusion upon Jose he early saw would fail utterly to pene- 
 trate the armor of moral reserve with which the priest was 
 clad, or effect in the slightest degree the impression which they 
 were calculated to make. 
 
 In the course of time the priest became irritating; later, 
 annoying; and finally, positively dangerous to the ambitions of 
 Wenceslas. For, to illustrate, Jose had once discovered him, 
 in the absence of the Bishop, celebrating Mass in a state of in- 
 ebriation. This irritated. Wenceslas had only been careless. 
 Again, Jose had several times shown himself suspicious of his 
 fast-and-loose methods with the rival political factions of Car- 
 tagena. This was annoying. Finally, he had come upon Jose 
 in the market place a few weeks prior, in earnest conference 
 with Marcelena and the girl, Maria; and subsequent conversa- 
 tion with him developed the fact that the priest had other dark 
 suspicions which were but too well founded. This was danger- 
 ous. It was high time to prepare for possible contingencies. 
 
 Ill 
 8 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 And so, in due time, carefully wording his hint that Padre 
 Jose de Rincon might be a Radical spy in the ecclesiastical 
 camp, Wenceslas found means to obtain from Rome a fairly 
 comprehensive account of the priest's past history. He mused 
 over this until an idea suddenly occurred to him, namely, the 
 similarity of this account with many of the passages which he 
 had found in a certain book, "The Confessions of a Roman 
 Catholic Priest" — a book which had cast the shadow of dis- 
 trust upon Wenceslas himself in relation to certain matters of 
 ecclesiastical politics in Colombia nearly three years before, and 
 at a most unfortunate time. Indeed, this sudden, unheralded 
 exposure had forced him to a hurried recasting of certain 
 cherished plans, and drawn from him a burning, unquenchable 
 desire to lay his pious hands upon the writer. 
 
 His influence with Rome at length revealed the secret of the 
 wretched book's authorship. And from the moment that he 
 learned it, Jose's fate was sealed. The crafty politician laughed 
 aloud as he read the priest's history. Then he drew his plans 
 and waited. Rut in the interim he made further investigations; 
 and these he extended far back into the ancestral history of this 
 unfortunate scion of the once powerful house of Rincon. 
 
 Meantime, a few carefully chosen words to the Rishop 
 aroused a dull interest in that quarter. Jose had been seen 
 mingling freely with men of very liberal political views. It 
 would be well to warn him. Again, weeks later, Wenceslas was 
 certain, from inquiries made among the students, that Jose's 
 work in the classroom bordered a trifle too closely on radi- 
 calism. It were well to admonish him. And, still later, hap- 
 pening to call at Jose's quarters just above his own in the 
 ecclesiastical dormitory, and not finding him in, he had been 
 struck by the absence of crucifix or other religious symbol in 
 the room. Was the young priest becoming careless of his 
 example? 
 
 And now, on this important feast-day, where was Padre 
 Jose? On the preceding evening, as Wenceslas leaned over the 
 parapet of the wall after his surprise by Jose, he had noted in 
 the dim light the salient features of a foreigner who, he had 
 just leiarned, was registered at the Hotel Mariano from the 
 United States. Moreover, Wenceslas had just come from Jos6's 
 room, whither he had gone in search of him, and — may the 
 Saints pardon his excess of holy zeal which impelled him to 
 examine the absent priest's effects! — he had returned now to 
 the Rishop bearing a copy of Renan's Vie de Jdsus, with the 
 American's name on the flyleaf. It certainly were well to ad- 
 monish Padre Jose again, and severely! 
 
 The Rishop, hardly to the surprise of his crafty coadjutor, 
 
 112 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 flew into a towering rage. He was a man of irascible temper, 
 bitterly intolerant, and unreasoningly violent against all un- 
 believers, especially Americans whose affairs brought them to 
 Colombia. In this respect he was the epitome of the ecclesias- 
 tical anti-foreign sentiment which obtained in that country. 
 His intolerance of heretics was such that he would gladly have 
 bound his own kin to the stake had he believed their opinions 
 unorthodox. Yet he was thoroughly conscientious, a devout 
 churchman, and saturated with the beliefs of papal infallibility 
 and the divine origin of the Church. In the observance of 
 church rites and ceremonies he was unremitting. In the soul- 
 burning desire to witness the conversion of the world, and espe- 
 cially to see the lost children of Europe either coaxed or beaten 
 back into the embrace of Holy Church, his zeal amounted to 
 fanaticism. In the present case — 
 
 "Your Eminence," suggested the suave Wenceslas to his ex- 
 asperated superior, "may I propose that you defer action until 
 I can discover the exact status of this American?" 
 
 And the Bishop forthwith placed the whole matter in his 
 trusted assistant's helpful hands. 
 
 Meantime, Jose and the American explorer sat in the shade 
 of a magnificent palm on a high hill in beautiful Turbaco, look- 
 ing out over the shimmering sea beyond. For Hitt had wan- 
 dered into the Plaza de Caches just as Jose was taking a car- 
 riage, and the latter could not well refuse his proffered com- 
 panionship for the day. Yet Jose feared to be seen in broad 
 daylight with this stranger, and he involuntarily murmured a 
 Loado sea Dies! when they reached Turbaco, as he believed, 
 unobserved. He did not know that a sharp-eyed young novi- 
 tiate, whom Wenceslas had detailed to keep the priest under 
 surveillance, had hurried back to his superior with the report 
 of Jose's departure with the Americano on this innocent pleas- 
 ure jaunt. 
 
 "Say no more, my friend, in apology for your abrupt de- 
 parture last evening," the explorer urged. "But tell me, rather, 
 about your illustrious grandfather who had his country seat in 
 this delightful spot. Why, man ! this is paradise. I've a notion 
 to come here to live some day." 
 
 Jose cast his apprehensions upon the soft ocean breeze, and 
 gave himself up to the inspiriting influence of his charming 
 environment. He dwelt at length upon the Rincon greatness 
 of mediaeval days, and expressed the resolve sometime to delve 
 into the family records which he knew must be hidden away 
 in the moldering old city of Cartagena. "But now," he con- 
 cluded, after another reference to the Church, "is Colombia to 
 witness again the horror of those days of carnage? And over 
 the human mind's interpretation of the Christ? God forbid!" 
 
 113 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The American shook his head dubiously. "There is but one 
 remedy — education. Not sectarian, partisan, worldly education 
 — not instruction in relative truths and the chaff of material- 
 istic speculation — but that sort of education whereby the selfish 
 human mind is lifted in a measure out of itself, out of its petty 
 jealousies and envyings, out of sneaking graft and touting for 
 worldly 'emolument, and into a sense of the eternal truth that 
 real prosperity and soundness of states and institutions are to 
 be realized only when the Christ-principle, 'Love thy neighbor 
 as thyself,' is made the measure of conduct. There is a tre- 
 mendous truth which has long since been demonstrated, and 
 yet which the world is most woefully slow to grasp, namely, 
 that the surest, quickest means of realizing one's own pros- 
 perity and happiness is in that of others — not in a world to 
 come, but right here and now." 
 
 "But that means the inauguration of the millennium," pro- 
 tested Jose. 
 
 "Well, and why not so?" returned the explorer calmly. 
 "Has not that been the ultimate aim of Christianity, and of all 
 serious effort for reform for the past two thousand years? 
 And, do you know, the millennium could be ushered in to- 
 morrow, if men only thought so? Within an incredibly short 
 time evil, even to death itself, could be completely wiped off 
 the earth. But this wiping-off process must take place in the 
 minds and thoughts of men. Of that I am thoroughly con- 
 vinced. But, tell me, have you ever expressed to the Bishop 
 your views regarding the condition of this country?" 
 
 Jose flushed. "Yes," he replied in embarrassment. "Only 
 a week ago I tried again to convince him of the inevitable trend 
 of events here unless drastic measures were interposed by the 
 Church. I had even lectured on it in my classes." 
 
 "Well, what did he say?" 
 
 "The Bishop is a man of very narrow vision," replied Jose. 
 "He rebuked me severely and truculantly bade me confine my 
 attention to the particular work assigned me and let affairs 
 of politics alone. Of course, that meant leaving them to his 
 assistant, Wenceslas. Mr. Hitt, Colombia needs a Luther!" 
 
 "Just so," returned the explorer gravely. "Priestcraft 
 from the very earliest times has been one of the greatest curses 
 of mankind. Its abuses date far back to Egyptian -times, when 
 even prostitution was countenanced by the priests, and when 
 they practiced all sorts of impostures upon the ignorant masses. 
 In the Middle Ages they turned Christianity, the richest of 
 blessings, into a snare, a delusion, a rank farce. They arro- 
 gated to themselves all learning, all science. In Peru it was 
 even illicit for any one not belonging to the nobility to attempt 
 
 114 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 to acquire learning. That was tlae sole privilege of priests and 
 kings. In all nations, from the remotest antiquity, and whether 
 civilized or not, learning has been claimed by the priests as 
 the unique privilege of their caste^ — a privilege bestowed upon 
 them by the special favor of the ruling deity. That's why they 
 always sought to surround their intellectual treasures with a 
 veil of mystery. Roger Bacon, the English monk, once said 
 that it was necessary to keep the discoveries of the philosophers 
 from those unworthy of knowing them. How did he expect a 
 realization of 'Thy kingdom come,' I wonder?" 
 
 "They didn't expect it to come — on earth," said Jose. 
 
 "No. They relegated that to the imagined realm which was 
 to be entered through the gateway of .death. It's mighty con- 
 venient to be able to relegate your proofs to that mysterious 
 realm beyond the grave. That has always been a tremendous 
 power in the hands of priests of all times and lands. By the 
 way, did you know that the story of Abel's assassination was 
 one of many handed down, in one form or another, by the 
 priests of India and Egypt?" 
 
 "Do you mean it?" inquired Jose eagerly. 
 
 "Certainly. The story doubtless comes from the ancient 
 Egyptian tale which the priests of that time used to relate 
 regarding the murder of Osiris by his brother. Set. It was a 
 deed of jealousy. The story later became incorporated into the 
 sacred books of India and Egypt, and was afterward taken over 
 by Ihe Hebrews, when they were captives in Egypt. The He- 
 brews learned much of Egyptian theology, and their own re- 
 ligion was greatly tinctured by it subsequently. The legend 
 of the deluge, for example, is another tradition of those piiimi- 
 tive days, and credited by the nations of antiquity. But here 
 there is the likelihood of a connection with the great cataclysm 
 of antiquity, the disappearance of the island of Atlantis in 
 consequence of a violent earthquake and volcanic action. This 
 alleged island, supposed to be a portion of the strip at one time 
 connecting South America with Africa, is thought to have 
 sunk beneath the waters of the present Atlantic ocean some 
 nine thousand years before Solon visited Egypt, and hence, 
 some eleven thousand years ago. Anyway, the story of this 
 awful catastrophe got into the Egyptian records in the earliest 
 times, and was handed down to the Hebrews, who probably 
 based their story of the flood upon it. You see, there is a 
 foundation of some sort for all those legends in the book of 
 Genesis. The difficulty has been that humanity has for centu- 
 ries childishly accepted them as historical fact. For example, 
 the serpent story. Now in very primitive times the serpent 
 was the special emblem of Kneph, the creator of the world, and 
 
 115 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 was regarded as a sort of good genius. It is still so regarded by 
 the Chinese, who make of it one of their most beautiful sym- 
 bols, the dragon. Later it became the 'emblem of Set, the slayer 
 of Osiris; and after that it was looked upon with horror as tha 
 enemy of mankind, the destroyer, the evil principle. Hence, in 
 Egypt, the Hebrew captives adopted the serpent as emblemati- 
 cal of evil, and later used it in their scriptural records as the 
 evil genius that tempted Eve and brought about the fall of man. 
 And so all people whose religious beliefs are founded upon the 
 Hebrew Bible now look upon the serpent as the symbol of evil. 
 Jews, Christians, and Mohammedans thus regard it." 
 
 Jose gazed at the man with rapt interest. "Don't stop!" he 
 urged. "Go on! go on!" 
 
 Hitt laughed. "Well," he resumed, "the tree and the serpent 
 were worshiped all through eastern countries, from Scandinavia 
 to the Asiatic peninsula and down into Egypt. And, do you 
 know, we even find vestiges of such worship in America? Down 
 in Adams county, Ohio, on the banks of Brush creek, there is 
 a great mound, called the serpent mound. It is seven hundred 
 feet long, and greatly resembles the one in Glen Feechan, Ar- 
 gyllshire, Scotland. It also resembles the one I found in the an- 
 cient city of Tiahuanuco, whose ruins lie at an elevation of 
 some thirteen thousand feet above the Pacific ocean, on the 
 shores of Lake Titicaca, near the Bolivian frontier. This an- 
 cient city ages ago sent out colonists all over North and South 
 America. These primitive people believed that a serpent emitted 
 an egg from its mouth, and that the earth was born of that egg. 
 Now the serpent mound in Ohio has an egg in its mouth. What 
 is the logical inference?" 
 
 ""You don't mean it!" exclaimed Jose, his eyes wide with 
 astonishment. 
 
 Hitt laughed again in evident enjoyment of the priest's 
 wonder. Then he resumed: "It has been established to my 
 entire satisfaction that the ancient Egyptians and the Mayas 
 of Central and South America used almost identical symbols. 
 And from all antiquity, and by all nations, the symbols of 
 the tree and serpent and their worship have been so closely 
 identified as to render it certain that their origin is the same. 
 What, then, are the serpent and tree of knowledge in the 
 Hebrew Bible but an outgrowth of this? The tree of life, of 
 civilization, of knowledge, was placed in the middle of the 
 land, of the 'garden,' of the primitive country of the race, 
 Mayax. And the empire of the Mayas was situated between the 
 two great continents of North and South America. These 
 people spread out in all directions. They populated the then 
 existing island of Atlantis. And when the terrible earthquake 
 
 116 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 occurred, whereby this island was sunk beneath the waves of 
 the Atlantic ocean, why, to these people the world had been 
 drowned! The story got to Egypt, to Chaldea, and to India. 
 Hence the deluge record of Genesis." 
 
 "But, these primitive people, how ancient are they?" queried 
 Jos^. 
 
 "No one can form any adequate estimate," said Hitt in reply. 
 "The wonderful city of Tiahuanuco was in ruins when Manco 
 Capac laid the foundations of the Inca empire, which was later 
 devastated by the Spaniards. And the Indians told the Span- 
 iards that it had been constructed by giants before the sun 
 shone in heaven." 
 
 "Astonishing!" exclaimed Jose. "Such facts as these — if 
 facts they be — relegate much of the Scriptural authority to 
 the realm of legend and myth!" 
 
 "Quite so," returned the explorer. "When the human 
 mind of this century forces itself to approach a subject without 
 prejudice or bias, and without the desire to erect or maintain 
 a purely human institution at whatever cost to world-progress, 
 then it finds that much of the hampering, fettering dogma of 
 mediaevalism now laid upon it by the Church becomes pure 
 fiction, without justifiable warrant or basis. Remember, the 
 Hebrew people gave us the Old Testament, in which they had 
 recorded for ages their tribal and national .history, their poetry, 
 their beliefs and hopes, as well as their legends, gathered from 
 all sources. We have likewise the historical records of other 
 nations. But the Hebrew possessed one characteristic which 
 differentiated him from all other people. He was a monotheist, 
 and he saw his God in every thing, every event, every place. 
 His concept of God was his life-motif. This concept evolved 
 slowly, painfully, throughout the centuries. The ancient 
 Hebrew patriarchs saw it as a variable God, changeful, fickle, 
 now violently angry, now humbly repentant, now making con- 
 tracts with mankind, now petulantly destroying His own handi- 
 work. He was a God who could order the slaughter of inno- 
 cent babes, as in the book of Samuel; or He was a tender, 
 merciful Father, as in the Psalms. He could harden hearts, 
 wage bloody wars, walk with men 'in the cool of the day,' 
 create a universe with His fiat, or spend long days designing 
 and devising the material utensils and furniture of sacrifice to 
 be used in His own worship. In short, men saw in Him just 
 what they saw in themselves. They saw but their mental con- 
 cept. The Bible records humanity's changing, evolving con- 
 cept of God, of that 'something not ourselves which makes for 
 righteousness.' And this concept gradually changed from the 
 magnified God-man of the Old Testament, a creature of human 
 
 117 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 whims and passions, down to that held by the man of Nazareth, 
 a new and beautiful concept of God as love. This new concept 
 Jesus joyously gave to a sin-weary world that had uttei-ly 
 missed the mark. But it cost him his earthly life to do it. 
 And the dark record of the so-called Christian Church, both 
 Protestant and Catholic, contains the name of many a one who 
 has paid the same penalty for a similar service of love. 
 
 "The Chaldeans and Egyptians," he went on, after a mo- 
 ment's reflective pause, "gave the Hebrews their account of the 
 creation of the universe, the fall of man, the flood, and many 
 other bits of mythical lore. And into these stories the Hebrews 
 read the activity of their God, and drew from them deep moral 
 lessons. Egypt gave the Hebrews at least a part of the story 
 of Joseph, as embodied in the hieroglyphics which may be 
 read on the banks of the Nile to-day. They probably also gave 
 the Hebrews the account of the creation found in the second 
 chapter of Genesis, for to this day you can see in some of the 
 oldest Egyptian temples pictures of the gods making men out 
 of lumps of clay. The discovery of the remains of the 'Nean- 
 derthal man' and the 'Ape-man of Java* now places the dawn 
 of human reason at a period some three to five hundred thou- 
 sand years prior to our present century, and, combined with the 
 development of the science of geology, which shows that the 
 total age of the earth's stratified rocks alone cannot be much 
 less than fifty-five millions of years, serves to cast additional 
 ridicule upon the Church's present attitude of stubborn adher- 
 ence to these prehistoric scriptural legends as literal, God- 
 given fact. But, to make the right use of these legends — ^well, 
 that is another thing." 
 
 "And that?" 
 
 The explorer hesitated. "I find it difficult to explain," he 
 said at length. "But, remember what I have already said, there 
 is, there must be, a foundation beneath all these legends which 
 admonish mankind to turn from evil to good. And, as I also 
 said, that foundation must be very broad. I have said that I 
 was in search of a religion. Why not, you may ask, accept the 
 religious standard which Jesus set? That was the new concept 
 of God as love. Very good. I am quite convinced that love is 
 the religion, the tie which binds all things together and to a 
 common source and cause. And I am equally convinced that 
 Jesus is the only person recorded in history who ever lived a 
 life of pure reflection of the* love which he called God. And 
 so you see why I am chipping and hewing away at the theo- 
 logical conception of the Christ, and trying to get at the reality 
 buried deep beneath in the theological misconceptions of the 
 centuries. I am quite convinced that if men loved one another, 
 
 118 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 as Jesus bade them do, all war, strife, disease, poverty, and 
 discord of every sort would vanish from human experience. 
 But — and here is a serious question — did Jesus ask the impossi- 
 ble? Did he command us to love the sinful, erring mortal whom 
 we see in our daily walk — or did he^did he have a new 
 thought, namely, that by loving the real man, for which, per- 
 haps, this human concept stands in the human mind, that 
 this very act would change that distorted concept and cause it 
 to yield its place to the real one? I believe Jesus to have been 
 the wisest man who ever trod this earth. But I likewise believe 
 that no man has ever been more deplorably misunderstood, 
 misquoted, and misinterpreted than he. And so I am delving 
 down, down beneath the mass of human conjecture and ridicu- 
 lous hypothesis which the Church Fathers and our own theo- 
 logians have heaped up over this unique character, if perchance 
 I may some day discover just what he was, just what he really 
 said, and just what the message which he sought to convey to 
 mankind." 
 
 He leaned over and laid a hand on Jose's arm. "My young 
 friend," he said earnestly, "I believe there are meanings in the 
 life and words of Jesus of which the Church in its astounding 
 self-suflBciency has never even dreamed. Did he walk on the 
 water? Did he feed the multitude with a few loaves? Did he 
 raise Lazarus? Did he himself issue from the tomb? No more 
 momentous questions were ever asked than these. For, if so, 
 then the message of Jesus has a bearing on the material uni- 
 verse, on the human mind, and the whole realm of thought that 
 is utterly revolutionary! What was that message? Did the 
 man's own apostles and immediate followers understand it? 
 Did Paul? Certain we are, however, that the theology which 
 Rome gave to her barbarian conquerors was wholly different 
 from that taught by Jesus and his disciples. And we know 
 that the history of Europe from the fall of the Roman Empire 
 down to the Franco-Prussian war is largely a recital of the 
 development of the religious beliefs which Rome handed down 
 to her conquerors, and their influence upon the human mind. 
 These beliefs constitute the working hypothesis of that institu- 
 tion known to-day as the Holy Roman Catholic Church, and its 
 separated offshoots, the Greek Catholic and the Protestant 
 Churches, including the numberless ramifications and divisions 
 of the latter. The question as to whether eternal salvation is a 
 function of complete immersion of the human body, or only a 
 gentle sprinkling, appears most lamentably puerile in the face 
 of the tremendous revolutionary truths hinted by the deeds of 
 Jesus, assuming that he has been correctly reported in the 
 Gospels, No; Renan, in his Vie de Jdsus, which I gave you last 
 
 119 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 night, missed it. Before him, Voltaire and countless other 
 critics of man-made theology missed it. The writings of these 
 men do serve, however, to mow down the theological stubble in 
 the world's field of thought. What is it, this gigantic truth 
 which Jesus brought? I do not know. But he himself is re- 
 ported to have said, 'If ye keep my commands, ye shall know 
 of the doctrine.' And his chief command was, that we love 
 God and our fellow-men. I have no doubt whatever that, when 
 we follow this command, we shall know of the doctrine which 
 he came to establish in the hearts of men." 
 
 "But his message was the brotherhood of man," said Jose. 
 
 "Nay," replied the explorer, "it was the fatherhood of God, 
 rather. For that includes the brotherhood of man. But, while 
 we agree thus far, who can say what the fatherhood of God 
 implies? Who, realizing that this was Jesus' message, knows 
 how to make it practical, as he did? To him it meant — ah, 
 what did it not mean! It meant a consciousness that held 
 not one trace of evil. It meant a consciousness of God as 
 omnipotent power, the irresistible power of good, which, in 
 the form of spirit, or mind, as some will have it, is ever 
 present. Is it not so? Well, then, who is there to-day, within 
 the Church or without, who understands the divine message 
 of the fatherhood of God sufficiently to acquire such a con- 
 sciousness, and to make the intensely practical application of 
 the message to every problem of mind, or body, or environ- 
 ment? Who to-day in your Church or mine, for example, 
 realizes that Jesus must have seen something in matter far 
 different from the solid, indestructible thing that we think we 
 see, and that this was due to his understanding of the imma- 
 nence of his Father as spirit — an understanding which enabled 
 him to walk on the waves, and to treat material things as if 
 they were not? No, my friend, the Christ-message of the 
 fatherhood of God is hardly apprehended in the world to-day 
 in the slightest degree by priest or prelate, church or sect. 
 And yet, the influence of Jesus is tremendous!" 
 
 Jose's brow knit in perplexity. "I — I don't believe I follow 
 you, quite," he said. 
 
 "I am not surprised," replied the explorer gently. "I some- 
 times wonder if I understand myself just what it is that I am 
 trying to express. My belief is still in a state of transition. I 
 am still searching. The field has been cleared. And now — now 
 I am waiting for the new seed. I have abandoned forever the 
 sterile, non-productive religious beliefs of current theology. 
 I have abandoned such belittling views of God as the Presbyte- 
 rian sublapsarian view of election. I have turned wearily from 
 the puerile dogma of your Church as unworthy of the Father 
 
 120 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 of Jesus. From delving into the mysteries of the Brahminism 
 of India, of ancestor-worship in Japan, of Confucianism in 
 China, of Islamism in the far East, I have come back to the 
 wonderful man of Nazareth. And now I am trying to see what 
 Christianity would be if purged of its adulterations — purged 
 of the Greek philosophy of the early Fathers; of the forgeries 
 of the Middle Ages; of the pagan ceremonialism and priestly 
 rites and assumptions of power to save or damn in this present 
 century. And what do I find, after all this rubbish has been 
 filtered out? Love, friend — ^love; the unfathomable love of the 
 Father of Jesus, who knows no evil, no sin, no sickness, no 
 death, no hell, no material heaven, but whose kingdom is the 
 harmonious realm of spirit, or mind, wherein the individual 
 consciousness knows no discord o,f any name or nature." 
 
 The afternoon haze had been long gathering when Jos6 
 roused the sleeping cochero and prepared to return to the 
 stifling ecclesiastical atmosphere from which for a brief day he 
 had been so happily free. A cold chill swept over him when 
 he took his seat in the carriage, and he shuddered as if with 
 an evil presentiment. 
 
 "And you still adhere to your determination to remain in 
 the Church?" his friend asked, as they turned from the green 
 hills and nodding palms of Turbaco, and set their course toward 
 the distant mediaeval city. 
 
 "Yes," came the scarcely audible reply. But as Jose spoke, 
 he knew that his mind had that day been stripped of its last 
 remaining vestige of the old theology, leaving it bare, exposed 
 — and receptive. 
 
 ♦ * .. * * * * 
 
 A week passed. The explorer had gone, as silently and un- 
 announced as he had come. The evening before his departure 
 he and Jose had sat again in the thick shadows of the old wall. 
 The next morning he was on the mighty river; and the priest 
 was left with a great void in his heart. 
 
 One noon, as Jose was returning from his classes, he pon- 
 dered deeply the last words of the explorer, "Remember, noth- 
 ing that has been invented by mankind or evolved by the 
 human mind can stand, or remain. We might just as well 
 accept that great fact now as later, and adjust ourselves to it. 
 But the things of the spirit remain. And Paul has told us 
 what they are." 
 
 As he passed slowly along the winding little street toward 
 the dormitory, a messenger approached him with a summons 
 from the Bishop. He turned and started wonderingly toward 
 the Cathedral. He had been reprimanded once, twice, for the 
 liberal views which he had expressed to his classes. Was he 
 
 121 
 
CA'RMEN ARIZA 
 
 to receive another rebuke now? He had. tried to be more 
 careful of late. Had he been seen with the explorer? 
 
 An hour later, his eyes set and unseeing, and his thin lips 
 trembling, Jose dragged himself up the stone steps to his little 
 room and threw himself upon the bed. The bonds which had 
 been slowly, imperceptibly tightening during these few months 
 of precious liberty had been drawn suddenly taut. The Bishop, 
 in the r6le of Inquisitor Natus, had just revealed a full knowl- 
 edge of his dismal past, and had summarily dismissed him from 
 the University faculty. Jose, bewildered and stunned, had 
 tried vainly to defend himself. Then, realizing his impotence 
 before the uncompromising bigotry of this choleric ecclesiastic, 
 he had burst suddenly into a torrent of frenzied declarations of 
 his undeserved wrongs, of his resolve noW to renounce his 
 oath, to leave the Church, to abandon honor, family, everything 
 that held or claimed him, and to flee into unknown and un- 
 knowing parts, where his harassed soul might find a few years 
 of rest before its final flight! The Bishop became bitterly and 
 implacably infuriated, and remanded the excited priest to his 
 room to reflect upon his wild words, and to await the final dis- 
 position of his case — unlesi^ he should have determined already 
 to try the devious route of apostasy. 
 
 Rising the next morning at dawn from the chill floor where 
 he had spent the torturing hours of an interininable night, and 
 still clinging forlornly to his battered sense of honor and 
 family pride, Jose again received the Bishop's summons; and, 
 after the events of the morning already related, faced the angry 
 churchman's furious tirade, and with it, what he could not 
 have imagined before, a charge of hideous immorality. Then 
 had been set before him a choice between apostasy and accept- 
 ance of the assignment to the parish of far-otf Simiti. 
 
 "And now, unpitying Fate," he murmured, as the door of 
 the Bishop's sanctum closed behind him, and he wandered 
 down through the gloom of the quiet Cathedral, "receive your 
 victim. You have chosen well your carnal instruments — pride 
 — ecclesiasticism — lust! My crimes? Aye, the very lowest; 
 for I have loved liberty of thought and conscience; I have 
 loved virtue and honor; the pursuits of intellect; the fair; the 
 noble; yea, the better things of life. I have loved my fellow- 
 men; and I have sought their emancipation from the thraldom 
 of ignorance. I have loved truth, and the Christ who revealed 
 it to the dull minds of mortals. Enough! I stand convicted! 
 And — I accept the sentence — I have no desire to resist it. For 
 the end is now not distant!" 
 
 122 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 16 
 
 THE tropical moon shone in her fullness from an unclouded 
 sky. Through the ethereal atmosphere which bathed the 
 storied city her beams fell, plashing noiselessly upon the 
 grim memorials of a stirring past. With a mantle of peace 
 they gently covered the former scenes of violence and strife. 
 With magic, intangible substance they filled out the rents in 
 the grassy walls and smoothed away the scars of battle. The 
 pale luster, streaming through narrow barbican and mildewed 
 arch, touched the decaying ruin of San Felipe with the wand of 
 enchantment, and restored it to pristine freshness and strength. 
 Through the stillness of night the watery vapor streamed up- 
 ward from garden and patio, and mingled with the scent of 
 flushing roses and tropical buds in a fragrant mist suffused 
 with the moon's yellow glow. 
 
 On the low parapet bordering the eastern esplanade of the 
 city wall the solitary figure of the priest cast a narrow shadow 
 in the pale moonlight. The sounds which eddied the envelop- 
 ing silence seemed to echo in his ears the tread of mediaeval 
 warriors. In the wraith-like shadows he saw the armored 
 forms of Conquistadores in mortal strife with vulpine buc- 
 caneers. In the whirring of the bats which flouted his face he 
 heard the singing of arrows and the hiss of hurled rocks. In 
 the moan of the ocean as it broke on the coral reef below 
 sounded the boom of cannon, the curses of combatants, and 
 the groans of the dyirtg. Here and there moved tonsured 
 monks, now absolving in the name of the peaceful Christ the 
 frenzied defenders of the Heroic City, now turning to hurl 
 curses at the swarming enemy and consign their blackened 
 souls to deepest hell, while holding images of the crucified 
 Saviour to the quivering lips of stricken warriors. 
 
 In the fancied combat raging in the moonlight before him 
 he saw the sons of the house of Rincon manifesting their 
 devotion to Sovereign and Pope, their unshaken faith in Holy 
 Church, their hot zeal which made them her valiant defenders, 
 her support, her humble and devoted slaves for more than 
 three centuries. 
 
 What -was the charm by which she had held them? And 
 why had its potency failed utterly when directed to him? But 
 they were men of physical action, not thought — men of deeds 
 which called only for brave hearts and stout bodies. It is 
 true, there had been thinkers in those days, when the valiant 
 sons of Rincon hurled the enemy from Cartagena's walls-r- 
 
 123 
 
CARMEN ARIZ.A 
 
 but they lay rotting in dungeons — they lay broken on the rack, 
 or hung breathing out their souls to God amid the hot flames 
 •which His self-appointed vicars kindled about them. The 
 Rincons of that day had not been thinkers. But the centuries 
 had finally evolved from their number a man of thought. 
 Alas! the evolution had developed intellect, it is true — but the 
 process had refined away the rugged qualities of animal 
 strength which, without a deeper hold on Truth and the way 
 to demonstrate it than Josd possessed, must leave him the play- 
 thing of Fate. 
 
 Young in years, but old in sorrow; held by oaths which his 
 ever-accusing sense of honor would not let him break; trem- 
 bling for his mother's sake, and for the sake of Rinc6n pride, 
 lest the ban of excommunication fall upon him ; yet little dream- 
 ing that Rome had no thought of this while his own peculiar 
 elements of character bound him as they did to her; the man 
 had at last yielded his life to the system which had wrecked it 
 in the name of Christ, and was now awaiting the morrow, 
 when the boat should bear him to far-off Simiti. He went 
 resignedly — even with a dull sense of gladness — for he went 
 to die. Life had yielded him nothing — and constituted as he 
 was, it could hold nothing for him in the future. 
 
 The glorious moon poured its full splendor upon the quiet 
 city. Through the haze the convent on La Popa sparkled like 
 an enchanted castle, with a pavement of soft moonbeams lead- 
 ing up to its doors. The trill of a distant nightingale rippled 
 the scented air; and from the llanos were borne on the warm 
 land breeze low feral sounds, broken now and then by the 
 plaintive piping of a lonely toucan. The cocoa palms through- 
 out the city stirred dreamily in the tempered moonlight; and 
 the banana trees, bending with their luscious burden, cast 
 great, mysterious shadows, wherein insect life rustled and 
 scampered in nocturnal activity. 
 
 "Padre Jose!" 
 
 A woman's voice called from below. The priest leaned over 
 the wall. 
 
 "It is Catalina. I have been hunting everywhere. Maria is 
 calling for you. She cannot live long. You will come?" 
 
 Come? Yes — ah, why did he let his own misery blind him 
 to the sorrow of others even more unfortunate ! Why had he 
 forgotten the little Maria ! Descending the broad incline to the 
 road below, Jose hurried with the woman to the bedside of the 
 dying girl. On the way the warm-hearted, garrulous Catalina 
 relieved her troubled and angered soul. 
 
 "Padre Lorenzo came this morning. He would not shrive 
 her unless we would pay him first. He said he would do it for 
 
 124 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ten pesos — then five — and then three. And when we kept 
 telling him that we had no money he told us to go out and 
 borrow it, or he would leave the little Maria to die as she was. 
 He said she was a vile sinner anyway — that she had not made 
 her Easter duty — that she could not have the Sacrament — and 
 her soul would go straight to hell — and there was no redemp- 
 tion! Then he came again this afternoon and said she must 
 die ; but he would shrive her for two pesos. And when we told 
 him we could not borrow the money he was terribly angry, and 
 cursed — and Marcelena was frightened — and the little Maria 
 almost died. But I told him to go — that her little soul was 
 whiter than his — and if he went to heaven I didn't want Maria 
 to go there too-^and — !" 
 
 •The woman's words burned through the priest's ears and 
 into his sickened soul. Recovering her breath, Catalina 
 went on: 
 
 "It is only a few days ago that the little Maria meets Sister 
 Isabel in the plaza. 'Ah,' says Sister Isabel, 'you are going to 
 be a mother.' 
 
 " 'Yes, Sister,' answers the little Maria, much confused; 
 and she tries to hide behind Marcelena. 
 
 " 'It is very dangerous and you will suffer much unless you 
 have a sacred cord of Saint Frances,' says the Sister. 'I will 
 bring you one.' 
 
 "And then she asks where the little Maria lives; and that 
 very day she brings a piece of rope, with knots in it, which 
 she says the priest has blessed, and it is a sacred cord of Saint 
 Frances, and if the little Maria will wear it around her waist 
 she will not suffer at -the parturition ; and the little Maria must 
 pay a peso oro for it — and the scared little lamb paid it, for 
 she had saved a little money which Don Carlos Ojeda gave her 
 for washing — and she wore it when the babe was born; but 
 it didn't help her—" 
 
 "Dios!" ejaculated the priest. 
 
 "And Marcelena had paid a peso y medio," continued the 
 excited woman, "for a candle that Sister Natalia told her had 
 come from the altar of the Virgin of Santander and was very 
 holy and would help one through confinement. But the 
 candle went out; and it was only a round stick of wood with a 
 little piece of candle on the end. And I — Padre, I could not 
 help it, I would do anything for the poor child — I paid two 
 pesos oro for a new escapulario for her. Sister Natalia said it 
 was very holy — it had been blessed by His Grace, the Bishop, 
 just for women who were to be mothers, and it would carry 
 them through — ^but if they died, it would take them right out of 
 purgatory — and — ! " 
 
 125 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Catalina!" interrupted the tortured priest. "Say no more!" 
 
 "But, Padre, the babe," the woman persisted. "What will 
 become of it? And — do you know? — Padre Lorenzo says it is 
 yours t He told Juanita so — she lives below us. But Maria 
 says no. She has told only Marcelena — and Marcelena will 
 never tell. Who is its father, Padre?" 
 
 The priest, recognizing the inevitable, patiently resigned 
 himself to the woman's talk without further reply.- Presently 
 they turned into the Calle Lazano, and entering the house 
 where Marcelena had greeted him that morning, mounted to 
 the chamber above where lay the little Maria. 
 
 A single candle on a table near the head of the bed shed a 
 flickering, uncertain light. But the window was open, and the 
 moon's beams poured into the room in golden profusion. Aside 
 from the girl, there were no other occupants than Marcelena 
 and the new-born child. 
 
 "Padre," murmured the passing girl, "you will not let me 
 die without the Sacrament?" 
 
 "No, child," replied the priest, bending over her, hot tears 
 streaming down his cheeks as she kissed his hand. 
 
 The girl had been beautiful, a type of that soft, southern 
 beauty, whose graces of form, full, regular features, and rich 
 olive tint mark them as truly Spanish, with but little admix- 
 ture of inferior blood. Her features were drawn and set now; 
 but her great, brown eyes which she raised to the priest were 
 luminous with a wistful eagerness that in this final hour be- 
 came sacred. 
 
 "Marcelena," the priest hurriedly whispered to the woman. 
 "I have no — but it matters not now; she need not know that 
 I come unprepared. She must pass out of the world happy 
 at last." 
 
 "There is a drop of wine that the doctor left; and I will 
 fetch a bit of bread," replied the woman, catching the meaning 
 of the priest's words. 
 
 "Bring it; and I will let her confess now." 
 
 Bending over the sinking girl, the priest bade her reveal 
 the burden resting on her conscience. 
 
 "Carita," he said tenderly, when the confession was ended, 
 "fear not. The blessed Saviour died for you. He went to 
 prepare a place for you and for us all. He forgave the sinful 
 woman — carita, he forgives you — yes, freely, gladly. He loves 
 y^ou, little one. Fear not what Padre Lorenzo said. He is a 
 sinful priest. Forget all now but the good Saviour, who stands 
 with open arms — with a smile an his beautiful face — to wel- 
 come his dear child — his little girl — you, carita, you." 
 
 "Padre— my babe?" 
 
 126 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Yes, child, it shall be cared for." 
 
 "But not by the Sisters" — excitedly — "not in an asylum — 
 Padre, promise me !" 
 
 "There, carita, it shall be as you wish," 
 
 "And you will care for it?" 
 
 "I, child?— ah, yes, I will care for it." 
 
 The girl sank back again with a smile of happiness. A 
 deep silence fell upon the room. At the feet of the priest 
 Catalina huddled and wept softly. Marcelena, in the shadow of 
 the bed where she might not be seen, rocked silently back and 
 forth with breaking heart. 
 
 "Padre — ^you will — say Masses for me?" The words were 
 scarcely audible. 
 
 "Yes, carita." 
 
 "I — have no money — no money. He promised to give me 
 — money — and clothes — " 
 
 "There, carita, I will say Masses for you without money — 
 every day, for a year. And you shall have clothes — ah, carita, 
 in heaven you shall have everything." 
 
 The candle sputtered, and went out. The moon flooded 
 the room with ethereal radiance. 
 
 "Padre — lift me up— it grows dark — oh. Padre, you are so 
 good to me — so good." 
 
 "No, child, it is not I who am good to you, but the blessed 
 Christ. See him, carita — there — there in the moonlight he 
 stands!" 
 
 The smoke from a neighboring chimney drifted slowly past 
 the window and shone white in the silvery beams. The girl, 
 supported by the arm of the priest, gazed at it through dim- 
 ming eyes in reverent awe. 
 
 "Padre," she whispered, "it is the Saviour! Pray to him 
 for me." 
 
 "Yes, child." And turning toward the window the priest 
 extended his hand. 
 
 "Blessed Saviour," he prayed, "this is one of thy stricken 
 lambs, lured by the wolf from the fold. And we have b;;ought 
 her back. Dost thou bid her come?" 
 
 The sobs of the weeping woman at his feet floated through 
 the room. 
 
 "Ah, thou tender and pitying Master — ^best friend of the 
 sinning, the sick, and the sorrowing — we offer to thee this 
 bruised child. We find no sin, no guile, in her; for after the 
 ignorant code of men she has paid the last farthing for satisfy- 
 ing the wolf's greed. Dost thou bid her come?" 
 
 In the presence of death he felt his own terrible impotence. 
 Of what avail then was his Christianity? Or the Church's 
 
 127 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 traditional words of comfort? The priest's tears fell fast. But 
 something within — perhaps that "something not ourselves" — 
 the voice of Israel's almost forgotten God — whispered a hope 
 that blossomed in this petition of tenderest love and pity. He 
 had long since ceased to pray for himself; but in this, the 
 only prayer that had welled from his chilled heart in months, 
 his pitying desire to humor the wishes of a dying girl had un- 
 consciously formulated his own soul's appeal. 
 
 "Blessed Saviour, take her to thine arms; shield her for- 
 ever more from the carnal lust of the wolf; lift her above the 
 deadening superstitions and hypocritical creeds of those wlio 
 touch but to stain ; take her; Saviour, for we find her pure, 
 innocent, clean; suffering and sorrow have purged away the 
 sin. Dost thou bid her come?" 
 
 The scent of roses and orange blossoms from the garden 
 below drifted into the room on the warm breeze. A bird, 
 awakened by the swaying of its nest, peeped a few sweet notes 
 of contentment, and slept again. 
 
 "We would save her — we would cure her — but we, too, have 
 strayed from thee and forgotten thy commands — and the 
 precious gift of healing which thou didst leave with men has 
 long been lost. But thou art here — thy compassionate touch 
 still heals and saves. Jesus, unique son of God, behold thy 
 child. Wilt thou bid her come?" 
 
 "What says he, Padr6?" murmured the sinking girl. 
 
 The priest bent close to her. 
 
 "He says come, carita — come!" 
 
 With a fluttering sigh the tired child sank back into the 
 priest's arms and dropped softly into her long sleep. 
 
 CHAPTER 17 
 
 THE twisted, turbid "Danube of New Granada," under the 
 gentle guidance of its patron. Saint Mary Magdalene, 
 threads the greater part of its sinuous way through the 
 heart of Colombia like an immense, slow-moving morass. Born 
 of the arduous tropic sun and chill snows, and imbued by the 
 river god with the nomadic instinct, it leaps from its pin- 
 nacled cradle and rushes, sparkling with youthful vigor, down 
 precipice and perpendicular cliff; down rocky steeps and jagged 
 ridges; whirling in merry, momentary dance in shaded basins; 
 singing in swirling eddies; roaring in boisterous cataracts, to 
 its mad plunge over the lofty wall of Tequendama, whence it 
 subsides into the dignity of broad maturity, and begins its 
 
 128 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 long, wandering, adult life, which slowly draws to a sluggish 
 old age and final oblivion in the infinite sea. Toward the close 
 of its meandering course, long after the follies and excesses of 
 early life, it takes unto itself a consort, the beautiful Cauca; 
 and together they flow, broadening and deepening as life nears 
 its end; merging their destinies; sharing their burdens; until 
 at last, with labors ended, they sink their identities in the 
 sunlit Caribbean. 
 
 When the simple-minded Conquistadores first pushed their 
 frail cockleshells out into the gigantic embouchure of this tawny 
 stream and looked vainly for the opposite, shore, veiled by the 
 dewy mists of a glittering morn, they unconsciously crossed 
 themselves and, forgetful for the moment of greed and rapine 
 and the lust of gold, stood in reverent awe before the handi- 
 work of their Creator. Ere the Spaniard had laid his fell curse 
 upon this ancient kingdom of the Chibchas, the flowering bahks 
 of the Magdalena, to-day so mournfully characterized .by their 
 frightful solitudes, were an almost unbroken village from the 
 present coast city of Barranquilla to Honda, the limit of naviga- 
 tion, some nine hundred miles to the south. The cupidity of 
 the heartless, bigoted rabble from mediaeval slums which 
 poured into this wonderland late in the sixteenth century laid 
 waste this luxuriant vale and exterminated its trustful in- 
 habitants. Now the warm airs that sigh at night along the 
 great river's uncultivated borders seem still to echo the gentle 
 laments of the once happy dwellers in this primitive paradise. 
 
 Sitting in the rounded bow of the wretched riverine steamer 
 Honda, Padre Jose de Rincon gazed with vacant eyes upon the 
 scenery on either hand. The boat had arrived from Barran- 
 quilla that morning, and was now experiencing the usual ex- 
 asperating delay in embarking from Calamar. He had just 
 returned to it, after wandering for hours through the forlorn 
 little town, tormented physically by the myriad mosquitoes, 
 and mentally by a surprising eagerness to reach his destination. 
 He could account for the latter only on the ground of complete 
 resignation — a feeling experienced by those unfortunate souls 
 who have lost their way in life, and, after vain resistance to 
 molding circumstances, after the thwarting of ambitions, the 
 quenching of ideals, admit defeat, and await, with something of 
 feverish anticipation, the end. He had left Cartagena early that 
 morning on the ramshackle little train which, after hours of 
 jolting over an undulating roadbed, set him down in Calamar, 
 exhausted with the heat and dusfc-begrimed. He had not seen 
 the Bishop nor Wenceslas since the interview of the preceding 
 day. Before his departure, however, he had made provision 
 for the burial of the girl, Maria, and the disposal of her child. 
 
 129 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 This he did at his own expense; and when the demands of 
 doctor and sexton had been met, and he had provided Marce- 
 lena with funds for the care of herself and the child for at 
 least a few weeks, his purse was pitiably light. 
 
 Late in the afternoon the straggling remnant of a sea breeze 
 drifted up the river and tempered the scorching heat. Then 
 the captain of the Honda drained his last glass of red rum in 
 the posada, reiterated to his political affiliates with spiritous 
 bombast his condensed opinion anent the Government, and 
 dramatically signaled the pilot to get under way. 
 
 Beyond the fact that Simiti lay somewhere behind the liana- 
 veiled banks of the great river, perhaps three hundred miles 
 from Cartagena, the priest knew nothing of his destination. 
 There were no passengers bound for the place, the captain had 
 told him ; nor had the captain himself ever been there, although 
 he knew that one must leave the boat at a point called Badillo, 
 and thence go by canoe to the town in question. 
 
 But Jose's interest in Simiti was only such as one might 
 manifest in a prison to which he was being conveyed. And, 
 as a prisoner of the Church, he inwardly prayed that his re- 
 maining days might be few. The blows which had fallen, one 
 after another, upon his keen, raw nerves had left him be- 
 numbed. The cruel bruises which his faith in man had received 
 in Rome and Cartagena had left him listless, and without pain. 
 He was accepting the Bishop's final judgment mutely, for he 
 had already borne all that human nature could endure. His 
 severance from a life of faith and love was complete. 
 
 Nor could Jose learn when he might hope to reach Badillo, 
 though he made listless inquiry. 
 
 "Na, Senor Padre," the captain had said, "we never know 
 where to find the water. It is on the right to-day; on the left 
 to-morrow. There is low tide to-night; the morning may see it 
 ten feet higher. And Badillo — quien sabe? It might be washed- 
 away when we arrive." And he shrugged his shoulders in 
 complete disclaimer of any responsibility therefor. 
 
 The captain's words were not idle, for the channel of the 
 mighty river changes with the caprice of a maiden's heart. 
 With irresistible momentum the tawny flood rolls over the 
 continent, now impatiently ploughing its way across a great 
 bend, destroying plantations and abruptly leaving towns and 
 villages many miles inland; now savagely filching away the 
 soft loam banks beneath little settlements and greedily adding 
 broad acres to the burden of its surcharged waters. Mighty 
 giants of the forest, wrested from their footholds of centuries, 
 plunge with terrifying noise into the relentless stream; great 
 masses of earth, still cohering, break from their moorings and 
 
 130 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 glide into the wliirling waters, where, like immense islands, 
 they journey bobbing and tumbling toward the distant sea. 
 
 Against the strong current, whose quartzose sediment 
 tinkled metallically about her iron prow, the clumsy Honda 
 made slow headway. She was a craft of some two hundred 
 tons burden, with iron hull, stern paddle wheel, and corrugated 
 metal passenger deck and roof. Below the passenger deck, 
 and well forward on the hull, stood the huge, wood-burning 
 boiler, whose incandescent stack pierced^the open space where 
 the gasping travelers were forced to congregate to get what air 
 they mighi. Midway on this deck she carried a few cabins at 
 either side. These, bare of furnishings, might accommodate 
 a dozen passengers, if the insufferable heat would permit them 
 to be occupied. Each traveler was obliged to supply his own 
 bedding, and likewise hammock, unless not too discriminating 
 to use the soiled cot provided. Many of those whose affairs 
 necessitated river travel — and there was no other mode of 
 reaching the interior — were content at night to wrap a light 
 blanket about them and lie down under their mosquito nets on 
 the straw mats — petates — with which every peon goes pro- 
 vided. Of service, there was none that might be so designated. 
 A few dirty, half-dressed negro boys from the streets of Bar- 
 ranquilla performed the functions of steward, waiting on table 
 with unwashed hands, helping to sling hammocks, or assisting 
 with the carving of the freshly killed beef on the slippery deck 
 below. Accustomed as he had been to the comforts of Rome, 
 and to the less elaborate though still adequate accommodations 
 which Cartagena afforded, Jose viewed his prison boat with 
 sinking heart. Iron hull, and above it the glowing boiler; over 
 this the metal passenger deck; and above that the iron roof, 
 upon which the fierce tropical sun poured its flaming heat all 
 day; clouds of steam and vapor from the hot river enveloping 
 the boat — had the Holy Inquisition itself sought to devise the 
 most refined torture for a man of delicate sensibilities like 
 Jose de Rincon, it could not have done better than send him 
 up the great river at this season and on that miserable craft, 
 in company with his own morbid and soul-corroding thoughts. 
 
 The day wore on; and late in the evening the Honda docked 
 at the pretentious town of Maganguey, the point of transfer 
 for the river Cauca. Like the other passengers, from whom he 
 had held himself reservedly aloof, Jose gladly seized the op- 
 portunity to divert his thoughts for a few moments by going 
 ashore. But the moments stretched into hours; and when he 
 finally learned that the boat would not leave until daybreak, 
 he lapsed into a state of sullen desperation which, but for the 
 Rincon stubbornness, would have precipitated him into the 
 
 131 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 dark stream. Aimlessly he wandered about the town, avoiding 
 any possible rencontre with priests, or with his fellow-passen- 
 gers, many of whom, together with the bacchanalian captain, 
 he saw in the various cantinas, making merry over rum and 
 the native anisado. 
 
 The moon rose late, bathing the whitewashed town in a 
 soft sheen and covering with its yellow veil the filth and 
 squalor which met the priest at every turn as he wandered 
 through its ill-lighted streets. Maganguey in plan did not 
 depart from the time-honored custom of the Spaniards, who 
 erected their cities by first locating the church, and then build- 
 ing the town around it. So long as the church had a good loca- 
 tion, the rest of the town might shift for itself. Some of the 
 better buildings dated from the old colonial period, and had 
 tile roofs and red brick floors. Many bore scars received in 
 the internecine warfare which has raged in the unhappy 
 country with but brief intervals of peace since the days of 
 Spanish occupation. But most of the houses were of the 
 typical mud-plastered, palm-thatched variety, with dirt floors 
 and scant furniture. Yet even in many of these Jose noted 
 pianos and sewing machines, generally of German make, at 
 which the housewife was occupied, while naked babes and 
 squealing pigs — the latter of scarcely less value than the for- 
 mer — fought for places of preferment on the damp and grimy 
 floors. 
 
 Wandering, blindly absorbed in thought, into a deserted 
 road which branched off from one of the narrow streets on the 
 outskirts of the town, Jose stumbled upon a figure crouching 
 in the moonlight. Almost before he realized that it was a 
 human being a hand had reached up and caught his. 
 
 "Buen Padre!" came a thick voice from the mass, "for the 
 love of the good Virgin, a few pesos!" 
 
 A beggar — ^perhaps a bandit! Ah, well; Jose's purse was 
 light — and his life of no value. So, recovering from his start, 
 he sought in his pockets for some billetes. But— yes, he re- 
 membered that after purchasing his river transportation in 
 Calamar he had carefully put his few remaining bills in his 
 trunk. 
 
 "Amigo, I am sorry, but I have no money with me," he said 
 regretfully, "But if you will come to the boat I will gladly 
 give you something there." 
 
 At this the figure emitted a scream of rage, and broke into 
 a torrent of sulphurous oaths. "Na, the Saints curse you 
 beggarly priests! You have no money, but you rob us poor 
 devils with your lies, and then leave us to rot to death!" 
 
 "But, amigo, did I not say — " began Jose soothingly. 
 
 132 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Maldito!" shrilled the figure; "may Joseph and Mary and 
 Jesus curse you! A million curses on you, maZcfifo/" Pulling 
 itself upward, the shapeless thing sank its teeth deep into the 
 priest's hand. 
 
 With a cry of pain the startled Jose tore himself loose, his 
 hand dripping with blood. At the same time the figure fell 
 over into the road and its enveloping rags slipped off, disclosing 
 in the bright ipoonlight a loathsome, distorted face and ele- 
 phantine limbs, covered with festering sores. 
 
 "Good God!" cried Jose, recoiling. "A leper!" 
 
 Turning swiftly from the hideous object, his brain awhirl 
 with the horrible nightmare, the priest fled blindly from the 
 scene. Nauseated, quivering with horror, with the obscene 
 ravings of the leper still ringing in his ears, he stumbled about 
 the town until daybreak, when the boat's shrieking whistle 
 summoned him to embark. 
 
 The second day on the river seemed to Jose intolerable, as 
 he shifted about the creaking, straining tub to avoid the sun's 
 piercing rays and the heat which, drifting back from the hot 
 stack forward, enveloped the entire craft. There were but few 
 passengers, some half dozen men and two slatternly attired 
 women. Whither they were bound, he knew not, nor cared; 
 and, though they saluted him courteously, he studiously 
 avoided being drawn into their conversations. The emotional 
 appeal of the great river and its forest-lined banks did not at 
 first affect him. Yet he sought forgetfulness of self by con- 
 centrating his thought upon them. 
 
 The massed foliage constituted an impenetrable wall on 
 either side. Everywhere his eyes met a maze of lianas, creep- 
 ing plants, begonias, and bizarre vegetable forms, shapes and 
 hues of which he had never before had any adequate concep- 
 tion. Often he caught the glint of great, rare butterflies hover- 
 ing in the early sunlight which filtered through the interlaced 
 fronds and branches. Often when the boat hugged the bank 
 he saw indescribable buds and blossoms, and multicolored 
 orchids clinging to the drooping bejucos which festooned the 
 enormous trees. As the afternoon waned and the sun hung 
 low, the magic stillness of the solitude began to cast its spell 
 about him, and he could imagine that he was penetrating a 
 fairyland. The vast stream, winding, broadening, ramifying 
 round wooded islets, throwing out long, dusky lagoons and 
 swampy arms, incessantly plying its numberless activities, at 
 length held him enraptured. As he brooded over it all, his 
 thought wandered back to the exploits of the intrepid Quesada 
 and his stalwart band who, centuries before, had forced their 
 perilous way along this same river, amid showers of poisoned 
 
 133 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 arrows from hostile natives, amid the assaults of tropical 
 storms and malarial fevers, to the plateau of Cundinamarca, 
 the home of the primitive Muiscas; and there gathering fresh 
 strength and inspiration, had pushed on to the site of Santa Fe 
 de Bogota. 
 
 A cry suddenly rang through the boat. "Man overboard!" 
 
 The clang of the pilot's bell stopped the clumsy craft; but 
 not before the ragged little negro boy who had served at Jose's 
 table as steward had been swept far away by the rapid current. 
 
 The utmost confusion immediately prevailed. Every one 
 of the rabble rout of stokers, stewards; and stevedores lost his 
 wits and set up a frenzied yell. Some who remembered that 
 there was such a thing, tore at the ropes which held the single 
 lifeboat. But the boat had been put on for appearance's sake, 
 not for service, and successfully resisted all efforts at removal. 
 No one dared risk his life in attempted rescue, for the river 
 swarmed with crocodiles. There was vain racing, counseling 
 and gesticulating; but at length, the first wave of excitement 
 over, passengers and crew settled down to watch the outcome 
 of the boy's struggle for life, while the pilot endeavored to 
 turn the unwieldy steamer about. 
 
 "Now is the time to put up a prayer for the youngster, 
 Padre," said a voice behind Jose. 
 
 The priest turned. The speaker was evidently a native 
 Colombian. Jose had noticed him on the boat when he em- 
 barked at Galamar, and surmised that he had probably come 
 up from Barranquilla. 
 
 "An excellent opportunity to try the merits of a prayer to 
 the Virgin, no? If she can fish us out of purgatory she ought 
 to pull this boy out of the river, eh?" continued the speaker 
 with a cynical smile. 
 
 "I would rather trust to a canoe and a pair of stout arms 
 than a prayer at present," returned Jose with candor. 
 
 "Corriente!" replied the man; "my way of thinking, ex- 
 actly! But if I had a good rifle now I'd put that little fellow, 
 out of his misery, for he's going down, sure !" 
 
 It was not unkindly said; and Jose appreciated the man's 
 rude sentiment. . Minutes passed in strained silence. 
 
 "Hombrel" cried the man. "He's going!" 
 
 The lad was evidently weakening. The rapid, swirling cur- 
 rent continually frustrated his efforts to reach the shore. 
 Again the head went under. 
 
 "DiosI" Jose exclaimed. "Is there no help?" 
 
 Jesus had walked the waves. Yet here his earthly repre- 
 sentative, trained in all the learning and culture of Holy Church 
 to be an Alter Christus, stood helplessly by and watched a 
 
 134 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 child drown! God above! what avail religious creed and 
 churchly dogma? How impotent the beliefs of men in such 
 an hour ! Could the Holy Father himself, with all his assump- 
 tions, spiritual and temporal — with all his power to loose from 
 sin and from the imaginalry torments of purgatory — save this 
 drowning boy? 
 
 Jose turned away in bitterness of heart. As he did so a 
 murmur of awe arose from the spectators. The priest looked 
 again down the river. Impelled from below, the body of the 
 boy was hurled out of the water. Then, as it fell, it disap- 
 peared. 
 
 "Cayman!" gasped the horrified crew. 
 
 Jose stood spellbound, as the ghastly truth dawned upon 
 him. A crocodile, gliding beneath the struggling lad, had tossed 
 him upward, and caught him in its loathsome jaws when he 
 fell. Then it had dragged him beneath the yellow waters, 
 where he was seen no more. 
 
 Life is held cheaply by the Magdalena negro — excepting his 
 own. Shiftless and improvident child of the tropics, his animal 
 wants are readily satisfied by the fruits and fish which nature 
 provides for him so bountifully. Spiritual wants he has none — 
 until calamity touches him and he thinks he is about to die. 
 Then witchcraft, charm, incantation, the priest — anything that 
 promises help is hurriedly pressed into requisition to prolong 
 his useless existence. If he recovers, he forgets it all as hur- 
 riedly. The tragedy which had just been enacted before the 
 Honda's crew produced a ripple of excitement-^a momentary 
 stirring of emotion — and was then speedily forgotten, while 
 the boat turned and drove its way up-stream against the muddy 
 waters. 
 
 But Jose could not forget. Nature had endowed him with a 
 memory which recorded as minutely and as lastingly as the 
 phonographic cylinder. The violent death of the boy haunted 
 him, and mingled with the recurrent memories of the sad pass- 
 ing of the little Maria, and his own bitter life experience. Oh, 
 the mystery of it all! The tragedy of life! The sudden blight- 
 ing of hopes! The ruthless crushing of hearts! What did it 
 mean? Did this infinite variety of good and evil which we 
 call life unite to manifest an infinite Creator? Nay, for then 
 were God more wicked than the lowest sinner! Was evil as 
 real as good, and more powerful? Yes. Did love and the soul's 
 desire to be and do good count for nothing in the end? No; 
 for the end is death — always death! And after that — who 
 knows? 
 
 "We are coming to Banco, Padre," said the man who had 
 addressed Jose before, rousing him from his doleful medita- 
 
 135 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 tions and pointing to the lights of the distant town, now shim- 
 mering through the gathering dusk. 
 
 As the boat with shrilly shrieking whistle drew near the 
 landing, a crowd hurriedly gathered on the bank to receive it. 
 Venders of guava jelly, rude pottery, and straw mats hastily 
 spread out their merchandise on the muddy ground and began 
 to dilate loudly on their merits. A scantily clad man held aloft 
 a rare leopard skin, which he vigorously offered for two pesos 
 gold. Slatternly women, peddling queer delectables of uncer- 
 tain composition, waved their thin, bare arms and shrilly ad- 
 vertised their wares. Black, naked children bobbed excitedly 
 about ; and gaunt dogs and shrieking pigs scampered recklessly 
 through the crowd and added to the general confusion. Here 
 and there Jose could see dignified looking men, dressed in 
 white cotton, and wearing straw — jipijapa — hats. These were 
 merchants, patiently awaiting consignments which they had 
 perhaps ordered months before. Crazy, ramshackle dwellings, 
 perched unsteadily upon long, slender stilts, rose from the 
 water's edge; but substantial brick buildings of fair size, with 
 red-tile roofs and whitewashed walls, mingled at intervals with 
 the thatched mud huts and rude hovels farther within the town. 
 In a distant doorway he descried a woman nursing a babe at 
 one breast and a suckling pig at the other. Convention is rigid 
 in these Colombian river towns; but it is widely inclusive. 
 
 "Come ashore with me. Padre, and forget what is worrying 
 you," said Jose's new acquaintance, taking him by the arm. 
 "I have friends here — Hola! Padre Diego Guillermo!" he sud- 
 denly called, catching sight of a black-frocked priest standing 
 in the crowd on the shore. 
 
 The priest addressed, a short, stout* coarse-featured man of 
 perhaps forty, waved back a vigorous salutation. 
 
 "Hombrel" the man ejaculated, holding Jose's arm and 
 starting down the gangplank. "What new deviltry is the rogue 
 up to now!" 
 
 The man and the priest addressed as Diego embraced 
 warmly. 
 
 "Padre Diego Guillermo Polo, I have the extreme honor to 
 present my friend, the eminent Padre — " ceremoniously wav- 
 ing a hand toward Jose. 
 
 "Jose de Rincon," supplied the latter, bowing. 
 
 "Rincon!" murmured the priest Diego. Then, abruptly, 
 "Of Cartagena?" 
 
 "Yes," returned Jose, with awakened interest. 
 
 "Not of Don Ignacio— ?" 
 
 "My grandfather," Josd replied promptly, and with a touch 
 of pride. 
 
 136 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Ha! he owned much property — many fincas — about here; 
 and farther west, in the Guamoco country, many mines, eh, 
 Don Jorge?" exchanging a significant look with the latter. 
 
 "But," he added, glancing at the perspiring Honda, "this 
 old tub is going to hang up here for the night. So do me the 
 honor, senores, to visit my little cell, and we will fight the 
 cursed mosquitoes over a sip of red rum. I have some of very 
 excellent quality." 
 
 Jose and Don Jorge bowed their acquiescence and followed 
 him up the muddy road. The cell referred to consisted of a 
 suite of several rooms, commodiously furnished, and looking 
 out from the second story of one of the better colonial houses 
 of the town upon a richly blooming interior patio. As the 
 visitors entered, a comely young woman who had just lighted 
 an oil-burning "student" lamp and placed it upon the center 
 table, disappeared into one of the more remote rooms. 
 
 "My niece," said the priest Diego, winking at Don Jorge 
 as he set out cigars and a garrafon of Jamaica rum. "I have 
 ordered a case of American beer," he continued, lighting a 
 cigar. "But that was two months ago, and it hasn't arrived 
 yet. Diablo! but the good medico tells me I drink too much 
 rum for this very Christian climate." 
 
 Don Jorge swept the place with an appraising glance. 
 "H'm," he commented, as he poured himself a liberal libation 
 from the garrafon. "The Lord surely provides for His faithful 
 children." 
 
 "Yes, the Lord, that's right," laughed Padre Diego; "still I 
 am daily rendering no small thanks to His Grace, Don Wen- 
 ceslas, future Bishop of Cartagena." 
 
 "And eminent services into the bargain, I'll venture," added 
 Don Jorge. 
 
 Padre Diego's eyes twinkled merrily. Jose started. Then 
 even in this remote town the artful Wenceslas maintained his 
 agent ! 
 
 "But our friend is neither drinking nor smoking," said 
 Padre Diego, turning inquiringly to Jose, who had left his glass 
 untouched. 
 
 "With your permission," replied the latter; "I do not use 
 liquor or tobacco." 
 
 "Nor women either, eh?" laughed Padre Diego. "Por Diosl 
 what is it the Dutchman says? 
 
 'VVer nicht liebt Wein, Weib und Gesang, 
 Der bleibt ein Narr sein Lebenlang.' 
 Caramba! but my German has all slipped from me." 
 
 "Don't worry," commented Don Jorge cynically; "for I'll 
 wager it took nothing good with it." 
 
 137 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Hombre! but you are hard on a loyal servant of the Lord," 
 exclaimed Padre Diego in a tone of mock injury, as he drained 
 another glass of the fiery liquor. 
 
 "Servant of the Lord!" guffawed Don Jorge, "Of the Lord 
 Pope, Lord Wenceslas, or the Lord God, may we ask?" 
 
 "Qud chiste! Why, stupid, all three. I do not put all my 
 eggs into one basket, however large. But tell me, now," he 
 inquired, turning the conversation from himself, "what is it 
 brings you into this region forsaken of the gods?" 
 
 "Sepulcros," Don Jorge briefly announced. 
 
 "Ha! Indian graves again! But have you abandoned your 
 quest of La Tumba del Diablo, in the Sinu valley?" 
 
 "Naturally, since the records show that it was opened centu- 
 ries ago. And I spent a good year's search on it, too! Diosl 
 They say it yielded above thirty thousand pesos gold." 
 
 "Diablo!" 
 
 "But I am on the track of others. I go now to Medellin; 
 then to Remedios; and there outfit for a trip of grave hunting 
 through the old Guamoc6 district." 
 
 "Guamoco! Then you will naturally come down the Simiti 
 trail, which brings yon out to the Magdalena." 
 
 "Simiti ?" interrupted Jose eagerly, turning to the speaker. 
 "Do you know the place?" 
 
 "Somewhat!" replied Padre Diego, laughing. "I had charge 
 of that parish for a few months — " 
 
 "But found it highly convenient to leave, no?" finished the 
 merciless Don Jorge. 
 
 "Caramba! Would you have me die of ennui in such a hell- 
 hole?" cried Diego with some aspersion. 
 
 "Hell-hole!" echoed Jose. "Is it so bad as that?" 
 
 "Hombre I Yes — worse! They say that after the good Lord 
 created heaven and earth He had a few- handfuls of dirt left, 
 and these He threw away. But crafty Satan, always with an 
 eye single to going the Lord one better, slyly gathered this dirt 
 together again and made Simiti." Diego quickly finished an- 
 other glass of rum, as if he would drown the memory of the 
 town. 
 
 Jos6's heart slowly sank under the words. 
 
 "But why do you ask? You are not going there?" Padre 
 Diego inquired. Josd nodded an affirmative. 
 
 "Diablo! Assigned?" 
 
 "Yes," in a voice scarcely audible. 
 
 The Padre whistled softly. "Then in that case," he said, 
 brightening, "we are brother sinners. So let us exchange con- 
 fidences. What was your crime, if one may ask?" 
 
 "Crime!" exclaimed Jose in amazement. 
 
 138 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Aye; who was she? Rich? Beautiful? Native? Or for- 
 eign? Come, the story. We have a long night before us." 
 And the coarse fellow settled back expectailtly in his chair. 
 
 Jose paled. "What do you mean?" he asked in a trembling 
 voice. 
 
 "Caramba!" returned the Padre impatiently. "You surely 
 know that no respectable priest is ever sent to Simiti! That 
 it is the good Bishop's penal colony for fallen clergy — and, I 
 may add, the refuge of political offenders of this and adjacent 
 countries. Why, the present schoolmaster there is a political 
 outcast from Salvador!" 
 
 "No, I did not know it," replied Jose. 
 
 "Por Dios! Then you are being jobbed, amigo! Did Don 
 Wenceslas give you letters to the Alcalde?" 
 
 "Yes." , 
 
 "And — ^by the way, has Wenceslas be'en misbehaving of 
 late? — for when he does, somebody other than himself has to 
 settle the score." 
 
 Jose remained silent, 
 
 "Ah," mused Diego, "but Don Wenceslas is artful. And 
 yet, I think I see -the direction of his trained hand in this." 
 Then he burst into a rude laugh. "Come, amigo," he said, 
 noting Jose's dejected mien; "let us have your story. We may 
 be able to advise. And we've had experience — eh, Don Jorge?" 
 
 But Jos6 slovyly shook his head. What mattered it now? 
 Simiti would serve as well to bury him as any other tomb. He 
 knew he was sent as a lamb to the slaughter. But it was his 
 affair — and his God's. Honor, and conscience had presented 
 the score; and he was paying in full. His was not a story to 
 be bandied about by lewd priests like Padre Diego. 
 
 "No," he replied to the Padre's insistent solicitations; "with 
 your permission, we will talk of it no more." 
 
 "But — Hombre!" cried the Padre at last, in his coarse way 
 stirred by Jose's evident truthfulness. "Well — as you wish — I 
 will not pry into your secrets. But, take a bit of counsel from 
 one who knows : when yoU reach Simiti, inquire for a man who 
 hates me, one Rosendo Ariza — " 
 
 At this juncture the Honda's diabolical whistle pierced the 
 murky night air. 
 
 "Caramba!" cried Don Jorge, starting up. "Are they going 
 to try the river to-night?" And the men hurried back to the 
 landing. 
 
 . The moon was up, and the boat was getting under way. 
 Padre Diego went aboard to take leave of his friends. 
 
 "Bien, amigo," he said-to Don Jorge; "I am sorry your stay 
 is so short. I had much to tell you. Interesting developments 
 
 139 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 are forward, and I hope you are well out of Guamoco when the 
 trouble starts. For the rivals of Antioquia and Simiti will pay 
 off a few scores in the next revolution — a few left over from 
 the last; and it would be well not to get caught between them 
 when they come together." 
 
 "And so it is coming?" said Don Jorge thoughtfully. 
 
 "Comingl Hombre! It is all but here ! The Hetcules went 
 up-river yesterday. You will pass her. She has gone to keep 
 a look-out in the vicinity of Puerto Berrio. I am sorry for our 
 friend," nodding toward Jose, who was leaning over the boat's 
 rail at some distance; "but there is a job there. He doesn't 
 belong in this country. And Simiti will finish him." 
 
 "Bah! only another priest less — and a weak-kneed one at 
 that," said Don Jorge with contempt; "and we have too many 
 of them now. Lord. knows!" 
 
 "You forget that I am a priest," chuckled Diego. 
 
 "You! Yes, so you are," laughed Don Jorge; "but of the 
 diocese of hell! Well, we're off. I'll send a runner down the 
 trail when I reach the Tigui river; and if you will have a letter 
 in Simiti informing me of the status of things political, he can 
 bring it up. Conque, adios, my consummate villain." 
 
 The Honda, whistling prodigiously, swung out into mid- 
 stream and set her course up-river, warily feeling through the 
 velvety darkness for the uncertain channel. Once she grated 
 over a hidden bar and hung for a few moments, while her stack 
 vomited torrents of sparks and her great wheel angrily churned 
 the water into creamy foam in the clear moonlight. Once, 
 rounding a sharp bend, she collided squarely with a huge ma- 
 hogany tree, rolling and plunging. menacingly in the seaward 
 rushing waters. 
 
 "Diablo!" muttered Don Jorge, as he helped Jose swing his 
 hammock and adjust the mosquito netting. "I shall offer a 
 candle a foot thick to the blessed Virgin if I reach Puerto 
 Berrio safely! Santo Dios!" as the boat grazed another sand 
 bar. "I've heard tell of steamers hanging up on bars in this 
 river for six weeks! And look!" pointing to the projecting 
 smoke-stack of a sunken steamer. "Carambal That is what 
 we just escaped!" 
 
 But Jose manifested slight interest in the dangers of river 
 navigation. His thoughts were revolving about the incidents 
 of the past few days, and, more especially, about Padre Diego 
 and his significant words. Don Jorge had volunteered no 
 further explanation of the man or his conversation; and Jose's 
 reticence would not permit him to make other inquiry. But, 
 after all, his thought-processes always evolved the same con- 
 clusion: What mattered it now? His interest in life was at 
 
 140 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 an end. He had not told Don Jorge of his experience with the 
 leper in Maganguey. He was trying to forget it. But his hand 
 ached cruelly; and the pain was always associated with loath- 
 some and repellant thoughts of the event. 
 
 ♦ ♦ »' ♦ » • ♦ 
 
 The eastern sky was blushing at the approach of the ainor- 
 ous sun when Jose left his hammock and prepared to endure 
 another day on the river. To the south the deep blue vault of 
 heaven was dotted with downy clouds. Behind the laboring 
 steamer the river glittered through a dazzling white haze. 
 Ahead, its course was traceable for miles by the thin vapor 
 always rising from it. The jungle on either side was brilliant 
 with color and resonant with the songs of forest lyrists. In 
 the lofty fronds of venerable palms and cedars noisy macaws 
 gossiped and squabbled, and excited monkeys discussed the 
 passing boat and, commented volubly on its character. In the 
 shallow water at the margin of the river blue herons and spin- 
 dle-legged cranes were searching out their morning meal. Croc- 
 odiles lay dozing on the playas, with mouths opened invitingly 
 to the stupid birds which were sure to yield to the mesmerism. 
 Far in the distance up-stream a young deer was drinking at 
 the water's edge. 
 
 The charm of the rare scene held the priest spellbound. As 
 he gazed upon it a king vulture — called by the natives the Vul- 
 ture Papa, or Pope Vulture — suddenly swooped down from the 
 depths of heaven and, lighting upon the carcass of a monster 
 crocodile floating down the river, began to feast upon the choic- 
 est morsels, while the buzzards which had been circling about 
 the carrion and feeding at will respectfully withdrew until the 
 royal appetite should be satiated. 
 
 "Holy graft, eh. Padre?" commented Don Jorge, coming up. 
 "Those brainless buzzards, if they only knew it and had sense 
 enough to unite, could strip every feather off that swaggering 
 vulture and send him packing. Fools! And we poor Colom- 
 bians, if we had the courage, could as easily throw the Church 
 into the sea, holy candles, holy oils, holy incense and all! 
 Diablo! But we are fleeced like sheep!" 
 
 To Jose it did not seem strange tliat this man should speak 
 so frankly to him, a priest. He felt that Don Jorge was not so 
 much lacking in courtesy and delicate respect for the feelings 
 and opinions of others as he was ruggedly honest and fearlessly 
 sincere in his hatred of the dissimulation and graft practiced 
 upon the ignorant and unsuspecting. For the rest of the day 
 Don Jorge was busy with his maps and papers, and Jose was 
 left to himself. 
 
 The character of the landscape had altered with the nar- 
 
 141 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 rowing of the stream, and the river-plain now lay in a great 
 volcanic basin flanked by distant verdure-clad hills. Far to the 
 southwest Jose could see the faint outlines of the lofty Cordil- 
 leras. Somewhere in that direction lay:Simiti. And back of it 
 lay the ancient treasure house of Spain, where countless thou- 
 sands of sweating slaves had worn out their straining bodies 
 under the -goad and lash, that the monarchs of Castile might 
 carry on their foolish religious wars and attempt their vain 
 projects of self-aggrandizement. 
 
 The day wore on without interest, and darkness closed in 
 quickly when the sun dropped behind the Sierras, It was to be 
 Jose's last night.on the Magdalena, for Ihe captain had told him 
 that, barring disaster, the next afternoon should find them at 
 Badillo. After the evening meal the priest took his chair to the 
 bow of the steamer and gave himself over to the gentle influ- 
 ences of the rare and soothing environment. The churning of 
 the boat was softly echoed by the sleeping forest. The late nioon 
 shimmered through clouds of murky vapor, and cast ghostly 
 reflections along the broad river. The balmy air, trembling 
 with the radiating heat, was impregnated with sweetest odors 
 from the myriad buds and balsamic plants of the dark jungle 
 wilderness on either hand, where impervious walls rose in 
 majestic, deterrant, awesome silence from the low shore line, 
 and tangled shrubs and bushes, rioting in wild profusion, jeal- 
 ously hung to the water's edge that they might hide every trace 
 of the muddy banks. What shapes and forms the, black depths 
 of that untrodden bush hid from his eyes, Jose might only 
 imagine. But he felt their presence — crawling, creeping things 
 that lay in patient ambush for their unwitting prey — slimy 
 lizards, gorgeously caparisoned — dank, twisting serpents — ele- 
 phantine tapirs — dull-witted sloths — sleek, wary jaguars^ — 
 fierce formicidae, poisonous and carnivorous. He might not 
 see them, but he felt that he was the cynosure of hundreds of 
 keen eyes that followed him as the boat glided close to the 
 shore and silently crept through the shadows which lay thick 
 upon the river's edge. And the matted jungle, with its colossal 
 vegetation, he felt was peopled with other things — influences 
 intangible, and perhaps still unreal, but mightily potent with 
 the symbolized presence of the great Unknown, which stands 
 back of all phenomena and eagerly watches the movements of 
 its children. These influences had already cast their spell upon 
 him. He was yielding, slowly, to the "lure of the tropics," 
 which few who come under its attachment ever find the strength 
 to dispel. 
 
 No habitations were visible on the dark shores. Only here 
 and there in the yellow glow of the boat's lanterns appeared the 
 
 142 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 customary piles of wood which the natives sell to the passing 
 steamers for boiler fuel, and which are found at frequent in- 
 tervals along the river. At one of these the Honda halted to 
 replenish its supply. The usual bickering between the negro 
 owner and the boat captain resulted in a bargain, and the 
 half-naked stevedores began to transfer the wood to the vessel, 
 carrying it on their shoulders in, the most primitive manner, 
 held in a strip of burlap. The rising moon had at last thrown 
 off its veil of murky clouds, and was shining in undimmed 
 splendor in a starry sky. Jose went ashore with the passengers ; 
 for the boat might remain there for hours while her crew la- 
 bored leisurely, with much bantering and singing, and no 
 anxious thought. for the morrow. 
 
 The strumming of a tiple in the distance attracted him. Fol- 
 lowing it, he found a small settlement of bamboo huts hidden 
 away in a beautiful grove of moriche palms, through which the 
 moonbeams filtered in silvery stringers. Little gardens lay back 
 of the dwellings, and the usual number of goats and pigs were 
 dozing in the heavy shadows of the scarcely stirring trees. 
 Reserved matrons and shy doncellas appeared in the doorways; 
 and curious children, naked and chubby, hid in their mothers' 
 scant skirts and peeped cautiously out at the newcomers. The 
 tranquil night was sweet with delicate odors wafted from num- 
 berless plants and blossoms in the adjacent forest, and with the 
 fragrance breathed from the roses, gardenias and dahlias with 
 which these unpretentious dwellings were fairly embowered. 
 A spirit of calm and peaceful contentment hovered over the 
 spot, and the round, white moon smiled down in holy benedic- 
 tion upon the gentle folk who passed their simple lives in this 
 bower of delight, free from the goad of human ambition, un- 
 trammeled by the false sense of wealth and its entailments, 
 and unspoiled by the artificialities of civilization. 
 
 One of the passengers suggested a dance, while waiting for 
 the boat to take on its fuel. The owner of the wood, apparently 
 the chief authority of the little settlement, immediately pro- 
 cured a tom-tom, and gave orders for the bafle. At his direc- 
 tion men, women and children gathered in the moonlit clearing 
 on the river bank and, while the musician beat a monotonous 
 tattoo on the crude drum, circled about in the stately and digni- 
 fied movements of their native dance. 
 
 It was a picture that Jose would not forget. The balmy air, 
 . soft as velvet, and laden with delicious fragrance ; the vast 
 solitude, stretching in trackless wilderness to unknown reaches 
 on either hand; the naagic stillness of the tropic night; the fig- 
 ures of the dancers weirdly silhouetted in the gorgeous moon- 
 light; with the low, unvaried beat pf the tom-tom rising dully 
 
 10 143 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 through the warm air — all merged into a scene of exquisite 
 beauty and delight, which made an indelible impression upon 
 the priest's receptive mind. 
 
 And when the sounds of simple happiness had again died 
 into silence, and he lay in his hammock, listening to the spirit 
 of the jungle sighing through the night-blown palms, as the boat 
 glided gently through the lights and shadows of the quiet river, 
 his soul voiced a nameless yearning, a vague, unformed longing 
 for an approach to the life of simple content and childlike hap- 
 piness of the kind and gentle folk with whom he had been priv- 
 ileged to make this brief sojourn. 
 
 i> » • » '• • 
 
 The crimson flush of the dawn-sky heralded another daj' of 
 implacable heat. The emerald coronals of palms and tower- 
 ing caobas burned in the early beams of the torrid sun. Light 
 fogs rose reluctantly from the river's bosom and dispersed in 
 delicate vapors of opal and violet. The tangled banks of drip- 
 ping bush shone freshly green in the misty light. The wilder- 
 ness, grim and trenchant, reigned in unchallenged despotism. 
 Solitude, soul-oppressing, unbroken but for the calls of feath- 
 ered life, brooded over the birth of Jose's last day on the Mag- 
 dalena. About midday the steamer touched at the little vil- 
 lage of Bodega Central; but the iron-covered warehouse and 
 the whitewashed mud hovels glittered garishly in the fierce heat 
 and stifled all desire to go ashore. The call was brief, and the 
 boat soon resumed its course through the solitude and heat of 
 the mighty river. 
 
 Immediately after leaving Bodega Central, Don Jorge ap- 
 proached Jose and beckoned him to an unoccupied corner of 
 the boat. 
 
 " Amiga," he began, after assuring himself that his words 
 would not carry to the other passengers, "the captain tells me 
 the next stop is Badillo, where you leave us. If all goes well 
 you will be in Simiti to-night. No doubt a report of our meeting 
 with Padre Diego has already reached Don Wenceslas, who, 
 you may be sure, has no thought of forgetting you. I have no 
 reason to tell you this other than the fact that I think, as 
 Padre Diego put it, you are being jobbed — not by the Church, 
 but by Wenceslas. I want to warn you, that is all. I hate 
 priests ! They got me early — got my wife and girl, too ! I hate 
 the Church, and the whole ghastly farce which it puts over on 
 the ignorant people of this country ! But — ," eying him sharply, 
 "I would hardly class you as a real priest. There, never mind !" 
 as Jose was about to interrupt. "I think I understand. You 
 simply went wrong. You meant well, but something happened 
 — as always does when one means well in this world. But now 
 to the point." 
 
 IM 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Shifting his chair closer to Jos^, the man resumed earnestly. 
 
 "Your grandfather, Don Ignacio, was a very rich man. The 
 war stripped him. He got just what he deserved. His fincas 
 and herds and mines melted away from him like grease from 
 a holy candle. And nobody cared — any more than the Lord 
 cares about Candle grease. Most of his property fell into the 
 hands of his former slaves — and he had hundreds of them here- 
 abouts. But his most valuable possession, the great mine of 
 La Libertad, disappeared as completely as if blotted from the 
 face of the earth. 
 
 "That mine — no, not a mine, but a mountain of free gold — 
 was located somewhere in the Guamoco district. After the war 
 this whole country slipped back into the jungle, and had to be 
 rediscovered. The Guamoc6 region is to-day as unknown as it 
 was before the Spaniards came. Somewhere in the district, 
 but covered deep beneath brush and forest growth, is that 
 mine, the richest in Colombia. 
 
 "Now, as you know, Don Ignacio left this country in con- 
 siderable of a hurry. But I think he always intended to come 
 back again. Death killed that ambition. I don't know about 
 his sons. But the fact remains that La Libertad has never been 
 rediscovered since Don Ignacio's day. The old records in Car- 
 tagena show the existence of such a mine in Spanish times, and 
 give a more or less accurate statement of its production. 
 Diablo! I hesitate to say how much! The old fellow had 
 arrastras, mills, and so on, in which slaves crushed the ore. The 
 bullion was melted into bars and brought down the trail to 
 Simiti, where he had agents and warehouses and a store or two. 
 From there it was shipped down the river to Cartagena. But 
 the war lasted thirteen years. And during that time everything 
 was in a state of terrible confusion. The existence of mines 
 was forgotten. The plantations were left unworked. The male 
 population was all but killed off. And the country sank back 
 into wilderness. 
 
 "Bueno; so much for history. Now to your friends on the 
 coast — and elsewhere. Don Wenceslas is quietly searching for 
 that mine — has been for years. He put his agent, Padre Diego, 
 in Simiti to learn what he might there. But the fool priest was 
 run out after he had ruined a woman or two. However, Padre 
 Diego is still in close touch with the town, and is on the keen 
 search for La Libertad. Wenceslas thinks there may be de- 
 scendants of some of Don Ignacio's old slaves still living in 
 Simiti, or near there, and that they know the location of the 
 lost mine. And, if I mistake not, he figures that you will learn 
 the secret from them in some way, and that the mine will again 
 come to light. Now, if you get wind of that mine and attempt 
 
 145 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 to locate it, or purchase it from the natives, you will be beaten 
 out of it in a hurry. And you may be sure Don Wenceslas will 
 be the one who will eventually have it, for there is no craftier, 
 smoother, brighter rascal in Colombia than he. And so, take 
 it from me, if you ever get wind of the location of that famous 
 property— which by rights is yours, having belonged to your 
 grandfather — keep the information strictly to yourself I 
 
 "1 do not know Simiti, But I shall be working in the Gua- 
 moco district for many months to come, hunting Indian graves. 
 I shall have my runners up and down the Simiti trail frequently, 
 and may get in touch with you. It may be that you will need a 
 friend. There ! The boat is whistling for Badillo. A last word : 
 Keep out of the way of both Wenceslas and Diego — cultivate 
 the people of Simiti — and keep your mouth closed." 
 
 A few minutes later Jose stood on the river bank beside his 
 little haircloth trunk and traveling bag, sadly watching the 
 steamer draw away and resume her course up-stream. He 
 watched it until it disappeared around a bend. And then he 
 stood watching the smoke rise above the treetops, until that, 
 too, faded in the distance. No one had waved him a farewell 
 from the boat. No one met him with a greeting of welcome on 
 the shore. He was a stranger among strangers. 
 
 He turned, with a heavy heart, to note his environment. It 
 was a typical riverine point. A single street, if it might be so 
 called; a half dozen bamboo dwellings, palm-thatched; and a 
 score of natives, with their innumerable gaunt dogs and por- 
 cine companions — this was Badillo. 
 
 "Senor Padre." A tall, finely built native, clad in soiled 
 white cotton shirt and trousers, approached and addressed him 
 in a kindly tone. "Where do you go?" 
 
 "To Simiti," replied the priest, turning eagerly to the man. 
 "But," in bewilderment, "where is it?" 
 
 "Over there," answered the native, pointing to the jungle 
 on the far side of the river. "Many leagues." 
 
 The wearied priest sat down on his trunk and buried his 
 face in his hands. Faintness and nausea seized him. It was the 
 after-effect of his long and difficult river experience. Or, per- 
 haps, the deadly malaria was beginning its insidious poisoning. 
 The man approached and laid a hand on his shoulder; 
 
 "Padre, why do you go to Simiti?" 
 
 Jose raised his head and looked more closely at his inter- 
 locutor. The native was a man of perhaps sixty years. His 
 figure was that of an athlete. He stood well over six feet high, 
 with massive shoulders, and a waist as slender as a woman's. 
 His face was almost black in color, and mottled with patches of 
 white, so common to the natives of the hot inlands. But there 
 
 146 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 was that in its expression, a something that looked out through 
 those kindly black eyes, that assured Jose and bespoke his 
 confidence. 
 
 The man gravely repeated his question. 
 "I have been sent there by the Bishop of Cartagena. I am 
 to have charge of the parish," Jose replied. 
 * The man slowly shook his finely shaped head. 
 "We want no priest in Simiti," he said with quiet firmness. 
 His manner of speaking was abrupt, yet not ungracious. 
 "But — do you live there?" inquired Jos6 anxiously. 
 "Yes, Padre." 
 
 "Then you must know a man — Rosendo, I think his 
 name — " 
 
 "I am Rosendo Ariza." 
 
 Jose looked eagerly at the man. Then he wearily stretched 
 out a hand. 
 
 "Rosendo — I am sick — ^I think. And — I have^no friends — " 
 Rosendo quickly grasped his hand and slipped an arm about 
 his shoulders. 
 
 "I am your friend, Padre—" He stopped and appeared to 
 reflect for a moinent. Then he added quickly, "My canoe is 
 ready; and we must hurry, or night will overtake us." 
 
 The priest essayed to rise, but stumbled. Then, as if he had 
 been a child, the man Rosendo picked him up and carried him 
 down the bank to a rude canoe, where he deposited him on a 
 pile of empty bags in the keel. 
 
 "Escolastico!" he called back to a young man who seemed 
 to be the chief character of the village. "Sell the panela and 
 yuccas d buen precio; and remind Captain Julio not to forget 
 on the next trip to bring the little Carmen a doll from Bar- 
 ranquilla. I will be over again next month. And Juan," ad- 
 dressing the sturdy youth who was preparing to accompany 
 him, "set in the Padre's baggage; and do you take the paddle, 
 and I will pole. Conque, adioscito!" waving his battered straw 
 hat to the natives congregated on the bank, while Juan pushed 
 the canoe from the shore aivd paddled vigorously out into the 
 river. 
 
 "Adioscito! adioscito! Don Rosendo g Juan!" The hearty 
 farewells of the natives followed the canoe far out into the broad 
 stream. 
 
 Across the open river in the livid heat of the early afternoon 
 the canoe slowly made its way. The sun from a cloudless sky 
 viciously poured down its glowing rays like molten metal. The 
 boat burned; the river steamed; the water was hot to his touch, 
 when the priest feebly dipped his hands into it and bathed his 
 throbbing brow. Badillo faded from view as they rounded- a 
 
 -147 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 densely wooded island and entered a long lagoon. Here they 
 lost the slight breeze which they had had on the main stream. 
 In this narrow channel, hemmed in between lofty forest walls 
 of closely woven vines and foliage, it seemed to Jose that they 
 had entered a flaming inferno. The two boatmen sat silent 
 and inscrutable, plying their paddles without speaking. 
 
 Down the long lagoon the canoe drifted, keeping within what 
 scant shade the banks afforded, for the sun stood now directly 
 overhead. The heat was everywhere, insistent, unpitying. It 
 burned, scalded, warped. The foliage on either side of the 
 channel merged into the hot waves that rose trembling about 
 them. The thin, burning air enveloped the little craft with 
 fire. Jose gasped for breath. His tongue swelled. His pulse 
 throbbed violently. His skin cracked. The quivering appear- 
 ance of the atmosphere robbed him of confidence in his own 
 vision. A cloud of insects hung always before his sight. Dead 
 silence lay upon the scene. Not a sound issued from the jun- 
 gle. Not a bird or animal betrayed its presence. The canoe 
 was edging the Colombian "hells," where even the denizens of 
 the forest dare not venture forth on the low, open savannas in 
 the killing heat of midday. 
 
 Jose sank down in the boat, wilting and semi-delirious. 
 Through his dimmed eyes the boatmen looked like glowing^ in- 
 human things set in flames. Rosendo came to him and placed 
 his straw hat over his face. Hours, interminable and torturing, 
 seemed to pass on leaden wings. Then Juan, deftly swerving 
 his paddle, shot the canoe into a narrow arm, and the garish 
 sunlight was suddenly lost in the densely intertwined branches 
 overhanging the little stream. 
 
 "The outlet of La Cienaga, Padre," Rosendo offered, laying 
 aside his paddle and taking his long boat pole. "Lake Simiti 
 flows through this and into the Magdalena." For a few mo- 
 ments he held the canoe steady, while from his wallet he drew a 
 few leaves of tobacco and deftly rolled a long, thick cigar. 
 
 The real work of the boga now began, and Rosendo with his 
 long punter settled down to the several hours' strenuous grind 
 which was necessary to force the heavy canoe up the little out- 
 let and into the distant lake beyond. Back and forth he trav- 
 eled through the half-length of the boat, setting the pole well 
 forward in the soft bank, or out into the stream itself, and 
 then, with its end against his shoulder, urging and teasing the 
 craft a few feet at a time against the strong current. Jose 
 imagined, as he dully watched him, that he could see death in 
 the pestiferous effluvia which emanated from the black, slimy 
 mud which every plunge of the long pole brought to the sur- 
 face of the narrow stream. 
 
 148. 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The afternoon slowly waned, and the temperature lowered 
 a few degrees. A warm, animal-like breath drifted languidly 
 out from the moist jungle. The outlet, or cano, was heavily 
 shaded throughout its length. Crocodiles lay along its muddy 
 banks, and slid into the water at the approach of the canoe. 
 Huge iguanas, the gorgeously colored lizards of tropical America, 
 scurried noisily through the overarching branches. Here and 
 there monkeys peeped curiously at the intruders and chattered 
 excitedly as they swung among the lofty treetops. But for his 
 exhaustion, Jose, as he lay propped up against his trunk, gazing 
 vacantly upon the slowly unrolling panorama of marvelous 
 plant and animal life on either hand, might have imagined him- 
 self in a realm of enchantment. 
 
 At length the vegetation abruptly ceased; the stream wid- 
 ened; and the canoe entered a broad lake, at the far end of 
 which, three miles distant, its two whitewashed churches and 
 its plastered houses reflecting the red glow of the setting sun, 
 lay the ancient and decayed town of Simiti, the northern outlet 
 of Spain's mediaeval treasure house, at the edge of the for- 
 gotten district of Guamoco. 
 
 Paddling gently across the unruffled surface of the tepid 
 waters, Rosendo and Juan silently urged the canoe through the 
 fast gathering dusk, and at length drew up on the shaly beach 
 of the old town. As they did so, a little girl, bare of feet and 
 with clustering brown curls, came running out of the darkness. 
 
 "Oh, 'padre Rosendo," she called, "what have you brought 
 me?" 
 
 Then, as she saw Rosendo and Juan assisting the priest from 
 the boat, she drew back abashed. 
 
 "Look, Carmencita," whispered Juan to the little maid; 
 "we've brought you a big doll, haven't we?" 
 
 Night fell as the priest stej)ped upon the shore of his new 
 home. 
 
 149 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 BOOK 2 
 
 AY, to save and redeem and restore, snatch Saul, the mis- 
 
 AA take, Saul, the failure, the ruin he seems now, — and bid 
 
 him awake from the dream, the probation, the prelude, to 
 
 find himself set clear and safe in new light and new life, — a 
 
 new harmony yet to be run and continued and ended. 
 
 — Browning. 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 1 
 
 JOSE DE RINCON opened his eyes and, turned painfully on 
 his hard bed. The early sun streamed through the wooden 
 grating before the unglazed window. A slight, tepid breeze 
 stirred the mosquito netting over him. He was in the single 
 sleeping room of the house. It contained another bed like his 
 own, of rough macana palm strips, over which lay a straw mat 
 and a thin red blanket. Bed springs were unknown in Simiti. 
 On the rude door, cobwebbed and dusty, a scorpion clung tor- 
 pidly. From the room beyond he heard subdued -voices. His 
 head and limbs ached dully; and frightful memories of the 
 river trip and the awful journey from Badillo sickened him. 
 With painful exertion he stood upon the moist dirt floor and 
 drew on his damp clothes. He had only a vague recollection, of 
 the preceding night, but he knew that Rosendo had half led, 
 half dragged him past rows of dimly lighted, ghostly white 
 houses to his own abode, and there had put him to bed. 
 
 "May buenos dias, Sefior Padre," Rosendo greeted him, as 
 the priest dragged himself out into the living room. "You have 
 sl«pt long. But the sefiora will soon have your breakfast. Sit 
 here — not in the sun!" 
 
 Rosendo placed one of the rough wooden chairs, with 
 straight cowhide back and seat, near the table. 
 
 "Carmencita has gone to the boat for fresh water. But — 
 here she comes. Pour the Sefior Padre a cup, carita," address- 
 ing a little girl who at that moment entered the doorway, car- 
 rying a large earthen bottle on her shoulder. It was the child 
 who had met the boat when the priest arrived the night before. 
 
 "Fill the basin, too, chiquita, that the Padre may wash his 
 hands," added Rosendo. 
 
 The child approached Jose, and with a dignified little cour- 
 tesy and a frank smile offered him a cup of the lukewarm 
 water. The priest accepted it languidly. But, glancing into 
 her face, his eyes suddenly widened, and the hand that was 
 carrying the tin cup to his lips stopped. 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The barefoot girl, clad only in a short, sleeveless calico 
 gown, stood before him like a portrait from an old master. Her 
 skin -was almost white, with but a tinge of olive. Her dark 
 brown hair hung in curls to her shoulders and framed a face 
 of rarest beauty. Innocence, purity, and love radiated from her 
 fair features, from her beautifully rounded limbs, from her 
 soft, dark eyes that looked so fearlessly into his own. 
 
 Jose felt himself strangely moved. Somewhere deep within 
 his soul a chord had been suddenly struck by the little pres- 
 ence; and the sound was unfamiliar to him. Yet it awakened 
 memories of distant scenes, of old dreams, and forgotten long- 
 ings. .It seemed to echo from realms of his soul that had never 
 been penetrated. The tumult within died away. The raging 
 thought sank into calm. The man forgot himself, forgot that 
 he had come to Simiti to die. His sorrow vanished. His suf- 
 ferings faded. He remained conscious only of something that 
 he could not outline, something in the soul of the child, a thing 
 that perhaps he once possessed, and that he knew he yet prized 
 above all else on earth. 
 
 He heard Rosendo's voice through an immeasurable dis- 
 tance — 
 
 "Leave us now, chiquita; the Padre wishes to have his 
 breakfast." 
 
 The child without speaking turned obediently; and the 
 priest's eyes followed her until she disappeared -into the kitchen. 
 
 "We call her 'the smile of God,' " said Rosendo, noting the 
 priest's absorption, "because she is always happy." 
 
 Jose remaiined sunk in thought. Then — 
 
 "A beautiful child!" he murmured, "A wonderfully beau- 
 tiful child ! I had no idea— ! " 
 
 "Yes, Padre, she is heaven's gift to us poor folk. I some- 
 times think the angels themselves left her on the river bank." 
 
 "On the river bank!" Jose was awake now. "Why — ^she 
 was not born here?" 
 
 "Oh, no. Padre, but in Badillo." 
 
 "Ah, then you once lived in Badillo?" 
 
 "Na, Seiior Padre, she is not my child — except that the good 
 God has given her to me to protect." 
 
 "Not your child! Then whose is she?" The priest's voice 
 was unwontedly eager and his manner animated. 
 
 But Rosendo fell suddenly quiet and embarrassed, as if he 
 realized that already he had said too much to a stranger. A 
 shade of suspicion seemed to cross his face, and he rose hur- 
 riedly and went out into the kitchen. A moment later he re- 
 turned with the priest's breakfast — two fried eggs, a hot corn 
 arepa, fried platanos, dried fish, and cofifee sweetened with 
 panela. 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "When you have finished, Padre, we will visit the Alcalde," 
 he said quietly. "I must go down to the lake now to speak with 
 Juan before he goes out to fish." 
 
 Jose finished his meal alone. The interest which had been 
 aroused by the child continued to increase without reaction. 
 His torpid soul had been profoundly stirred. For the moment, 
 though he knew not why, life seemed to hold a vague, unshaped 
 interest for him. He began to notice his environment; he even 
 thought he relished the coarse food set before -him. 
 
 The house he was in was a typical native three-room dwell- 
 ing, built of strips of macana palm, set upright and tied to- 
 gether with pieces of slender, tough bejuco vine. The inter- 
 stices between the strips were filled with mud, and the whole 
 whitewashed. The floors were dirt, trodden hard; the steep- 
 pitched roof was thatched with palm. A few chairs like the 
 one he occupied, the rude,- uncovered table, some cheap prints 
 and a battered crucifix on the wall, were the only furnishings of 
 the living room. 
 
 While he was eating, the people of the town congregated 
 quietly about the open door. Friendly curiosity to see the new 
 Padre, and sincere desire to welcome him animated their sim- 
 ple minds. Naked babes crawled to the threshold and peeped 
 timidly in. Coarsely clad women and young girls, many of the 
 latter bedizened with bits of bright ribbon or cheap trinkets, 
 smiled their gentle greetings. Black, dignified men, bare of 
 feet, and wearing white cotton trousers and black ruanas — 
 the cape affected by the poor males of the inlands — respectfully 
 doffed their straw hats and bowed to him. Rosendo's vvife ap- 
 peared from the kitchen and extended her hand to him in un- 
 feigned hospitality. Attired in a fresh Calico gown, her black 
 hair plastered back over her head and tied with a clean black 
 ribbon, her bare feet encased in hemp sandals, she bore herself 
 with that grace and matronly dignity so indicative of her 
 Spanish forbears, and so particularly characteristic of the in- 
 habitants of this "valley of the pleasant 'yes.' " 
 
 Breakfast finished, the priest stepped to the doorway and 
 raised his hand in the invocation that was evidently expected 
 from him. 
 
 "Dominus vobiscum" he repeated, not mechanically, not in- 
 sincerely, but in a spirit of benevolence, of genuine well-wish- 
 ing, which his contact with the child a few minutes before 
 seemed to have aroused. 
 
 The people bent their heads piously and murmured, '*Et 
 cum spiritu tuo." 
 
 The open door looked out* upon the central plaza, -where 
 stood a large church of typical colonial design and construe- 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 tion, and with a single lateral bell tower. The building was 
 set well up on a platform of shale, with broad shale steps, 
 much broken and worn, leading up to it on all sides. Jose 
 stepped out and mingled with the crowd* first regarding the old 
 church curiously, and then looking vainly for the little girl, and 
 sighing his disappointment when he did not see her. 
 
 In the plaza he was joined by Rosendo; and together they 
 went to the house of the Alcalde. On the way the priest gazed 
 about him with growing curiosity. To the north of the town 
 stretched the lake, known to the residents only by the name of 
 La Cienaga. It was a body of water of fair size, in a setting of 
 exquisite tropical beauty. In a temperate climate, and a region 
 more densely populated, this lake would have been priceless. 
 Here in forgotten Guamoco it lay like an undiscovered gem, 
 known only to those few inert and passive folk, who enjoyed 
 it with an inadequate sense of its rare beauty and immeasura- 
 ble worth. Several small and densely wooded isles rose from 
 its unrippled bosom; and tropical birds of brilliant color hov- 
 ered over it in the morning sun. Near one of its margins Jose 
 distinguished countless white garzas, the graceful herons whose 
 plumes yield the coveted aigrette of northern climes. They fed 
 undisturbed, for this region sleeps unmolested, far from the 
 beaten paths of tourist or vandal huntsman. To the west and 
 south lay the hills of Guamocd, and the lofty Cordilleras, pur- 
 pling in the light mist. Over the entire scene spread a damp 
 warmth, like the atmosphere of a hot-house. By midday Jose 
 knew that the heat would be insufferable. 
 
 The Alcalde, Don Mario Arvila, conducted his visitors 
 through his shabby little store and into the patio in the rear, 
 exclaiming repeatedly, "Ah, Senor Padre, we welcome you ! All 
 Simiti welcomes you and kisses your hand!" In the shade of 
 his arbor he sat down to examine Jose's letters from Cartagena. 
 
 Don Mario was a large, florid man, huge of girth, with brown 
 skin, heavy jowls, puffed eyes, and bald head. As he read, his 
 eyes snapped, and at times he paused and looked up curiously 
 at the priest. Then, without comment, he folded the letters and 
 put them into a pocket of his crash coat. 
 
 "Bien," he said politely, "we must have the Padre meet Don 
 Felipe Alcozer as soon as he returns. Some repairs are needed 
 on the church; a few of the roof tiles have slipped, and the rain 
 enters. Perhaps, Seiior Padre, you may say the Mass there next 
 Sunday. We will see. A — a — ^you had illustrious ancestors. 
 Padre," he added with hesitation. 
 
 "Do^ the letters mention my ancestry?" asked Jos6 with 
 something of mingled surprise and pride. 
 
 "They speak of your family, which was, as we all know, 
 quite renowned," replied the Alcalde courteously. 
 
 6 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Very," agreed Jos6, wondering how much the Alcalde knew 
 of his family. 
 
 "Don Ignacio was not unknown in this pueblo." affably con- 
 tinued the Alcalde. ' 
 
 At these words Rosendo started visibly and looked fixedly at 
 the priest. 
 
 "The family name of Rinc6n," the Alcalde went on, "appears 
 on the old records of Simiti in many places, and it is said that 
 Don Ignacio himself came here more than once. Perhaps you 
 know, Seiior Padre, that the Rincon family erected the church 
 which stands in the plaza? And so it is quite appropriate that 
 their son should officiate in it after all these centuries, is it 
 hot?" 
 
 No, Jose had not known it. He could not have imagined 
 such a thing. He knew little of his family's history. Of their 
 former vast wealth he had a vague notion. But here in this 
 land of romance and tragedy he seemed to be running upon 
 their reMques everywhere. 
 
 The conversation drifted to parish matters; and soon Ro- 
 sendo urged their departure, as the sun was mounting high. 
 
 Seated at the table for the midday lunch, Jose again became 
 lost in contemplation of the child before him. Her fair face 
 flushed under his searching gaze; but she returned a smile of 
 confidence and sweet innocence that held him spellbound. Her 
 great brown eyes were of infinite depth. They expressed a 
 something that he had never seen before in human eyes. What 
 manner of soul lay behind them? What was it that through 
 them looked out into this world of evil? Childish innocence 
 and purity, yes; but vastly more. Was it — God Himself? Jose 
 started at his own thought. Through his meditations he heard 
 Rosendo's voice. 
 
 "Simiti is very old, Padre. In the days of the Spaniards it 
 was a large town, with many rich people. The Indians were 
 all slaves then, and they worked in the mines up there," indi- 
 cating the distant mountains. "Much gold was brought down, 
 here and shipped down the Magdalena, for the caiio was wider 
 in those days, and it was not so hard to reach the river. This 
 is the end of the Guamocd trail, which was called in those days 
 the Camino Real." 
 
 "You say the mines were very rich?" interrogated Jose; not 
 that the question expressed a more than casual interest, but 
 rather to keep Rosendo talking while he studied the child. 
 
 But at this question Rosendo suddenly became less loqua- 
 cious. Jos6 then felt that he was suspected of prying into mat- 
 ters which Rosendo did not wish to discuss with him, and so 
 he pressed the topic no further. 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "How many people did Don Mario say the parish con- 
 tained?" he asked by way of diverting the conversation. 
 
 "About two hundred. Padre." 
 
 "And it has been vacant long?" 
 
 "Four years." 
 
 "Four years since Padre Diego was here," commented Jos6 
 casually. 
 
 It was an unfortunate remark. At the mention of the 
 former priest's name Dofia Maria hurriedly left the table. 
 Roseiido's black face grew even darker, and took on a look of 
 ineffable contempt. He did not reply. And the n^eal ended in 
 silence. 
 
 It was now plain to Jose that Rosendo distrusted him. But 
 it mattered little to the priest, beyond the fact that he had no 
 wish to offend any one. What interest had he in boorish Simiti, 
 or Guamoco? The place was become his tomb — he had entered 
 it to die. The child — the girl! Ah, yes, she had touched a 
 strange chord within him; and for a time he had seemed to 
 live again. But as th« day waned, and pitiless heat and deadly 
 silence brooded over the decayed town, his starving soul sank 
 again into its former depression, and revived hope and interest 
 died within him. 
 
 The implacable heat burned through the noon hour; the 
 dusty streets were like the floor of a stone oven; the shale beds 
 upon which the old town rested sent up fiery, quivering waves; 
 the houses seethed ; earth and sky were ablaze. How long could 
 he endure it? 
 
 And the terrible ennui, the isolation, the utter lack of every 
 trace of culture, of the varied interests that feed the educated, 
 trained mind and minister to its comfort and growth — could 
 he support it patiently while awaiting the end? Would he go 
 mad before the final release: came? He did not fear death; but 
 he was horror-stricken at the thought of madness! Of losing 
 that rational sense of the Ego which constituted his normal 
 individuality ! 
 
 Rosendo advised him to retire for the midday siesta. 
 Through the seemingly interihinable afternoon he lay upon his 
 hard bed with his brain afire, while the events of his warped 
 life moved before him in spectral review. The week which had 
 passed since he left Cartagena seemed an age. When he might 
 hope to receive word from the outside world, he could not 
 imagine. His isolation was now complete. Even should let- 
 ters succeed in reaching Simiti for him, they must first pass 
 through the haiids of the Alcalde. 
 
 And -ivhait did the Alcalde know of him? And then, again,' 
 what did it matter? He must not lose sight of the fact that his 
 
 & 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 interest in the outside world — nay, his interest in all things — 
 had ceased. This was the end. He had yielded, after years of 
 struggle, to pride, fear, doubt. He had bowed before his morbid 
 sense of honor — a perverted sense, he now admitted, but still 
 one which bound him in fetters of steel. His life had been one 
 of grossest inconsistency. He was utterly out of tune with the 
 universe. His incessant clash with the world of people and 
 events had sounded nothing but agonizing discord. And his 
 confusion of thought had become such that, were he asked why 
 he was in Simiti, he could scarcely have told. At length he 
 dropped into a feverish sleep. 
 
 The day drew to a close, and the flaming sun rested for a 
 brief moment on the lofty tip of Tolima. Jose awoke, dripping 
 with perspiration, his steaming blood rushing wildly through 
 its throbbing channels. Blindly he rose from his rough bed 
 and stumbled out of the stifling chamber. The living room was 
 deserted. Who might be in the kitchen, he did not stop to see. 
 Dazed by the garish light and fierce heat, he rushed from the 
 house and over the burning shales toward the lake. 
 
 What he intended to do, he knew not. His weltering thought 
 held but a single concept — water! The lake would cool his 
 burning skin — he would wade out into it until it rose to his 
 cracking lips — he would lie down in it, till it quenched the fire 
 in his head — he would sleep in it — he would never leave it — ^it 
 was cool — perhaps cold! What did the word mean? Was there 
 aught in the world but fire — flames — fierce, withering, smother- 
 ing, consuming heat? He thought the shales crackled as they 
 melted beneath him ! He thought his feet sank to the ankles in 
 molten lava, and were so heavy he scarce could drag them ! He 
 thought the blazing sun shot out great tongues of flame, like 
 the arms of a monster devilfish, which twined about him, trans- 
 forming his blood to vapor and sucking it out through his 
 gaping pores ! 
 
 A blinding light flashed before him as he reached the margin 
 of the lake. The universe burst into a ball of fire. He clasped 
 his head in his hands — stumbled— ^and fell, face down, in the 
 tepid waters. 
 
 CHAPTER 2 
 
 "TT was the little Cabmen, Padre, who saw you run to the lake, 
 
 I She was sitting at the kitchen door, studying her writing 
 
 lesson." 
 
 The priest essayed to r,ise from his bed. Night had fallen, 
 
 and the feeble light of the candle cast heavy shadows over the 
 
 u 9 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 room, and made grotesque pictures of the black, anxious faces 
 looking in at tiie grated window. 
 
 "But, Rosendo, it — ^was — a dream — a terrible dream!" 
 
 "Na, Padre, it was true, for I liiyself took you from the lake," 
 replied Rosendo tenderly. 
 
 Jose struggled to a sitting posture, but would have fallen 
 back again had not Rosendo's strong arm supported him. He 
 passed his liand slowly across his forehead, as if to brush the 
 mental cobwebs from his awakening brain. Then he inquired 
 feebly: 
 
 "What does the doctor say?" 
 
 "Padre, there is no doctor in Simiti," Rosendo answered 
 quietly. 
 
 "No doctor!" 
 
 Jose kept silence for a few moments. Then — 
 
 "But perhaps I do not need one. What time did it occur?" 
 
 "It did not happen to-^day, Padre," said Rosendo with pitying 
 compassion. "It was nearly a week ago." 
 
 "Nearly a week! And have I lain here so long?" 
 
 "Yes, Padre." 
 
 The priest stared at him lincomprehendingly. Then — 
 
 "The dreams were frightful! I must have talked — raved! 
 Rosendo — you heard me — ?" His voice betrayed anxiety. ! 
 
 "There, Padre, think no more about it. You were wild-^1 
 fought to keep you in bed^we thought you must die^all but 
 Carmen — but you have your senses now — and you must forget 
 the past." 
 
 Forget the past! Then his wild delirium had laid bare his 
 soul ! And the man who had so faithfully nursed him through 
 the crisis now possessed the sordid details of this wretched 
 life! 
 
 Jose struggled to orient his undirected mind. A hot wave 
 of anger swept over him at the thought that he was still living, 
 that his battered soul had not torn itself from earth during his 
 delirium and taken flight. Was he fated to live forever, to drag 
 out an endless existence, with his heart written upon his sleeve 
 for the world to read and turn to its own advantage? Rosendo 
 had stood between him and death — ^but to what end? Had he 
 not yet paid the score in, full — good measure, pressed down and 
 running over? His thoughts ran rapidly from one topic to an- 
 other. Again they reverted to the little girl. He had dreamed 
 of her in that week of black night. He wondered if he had also 
 talked of her. He had lain at death's door— Rosendo had said 
 so— but he had had no physician. Perhaps these simple folk 
 brewed their own homely remedies— he wondered what they 
 had employed in his case. Above the welter of his thoughts 
 this question pressed for answer. 
 
 10 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "What medicine did you give me, Rosendo?" he feebly 
 queried. 
 
 "None, Padre." 
 
 Jose's voice rose quei:uIously in a little excess of excitement. 
 "What! You left me here without medical aid, to live or die, 
 as might be?" 
 
 The gentle Rosendo laid a soothing hand upon the priest's 
 feverish brow. "Na, Padre,"— there was a hurt tone in the soft 
 answer — "we did all we could for you. We have neither doctors 
 nor medicines. But we cared for you — and we prayed daily for 
 your recovery. The little Carmen said our prayers would be 
 answered— and, you see, they were." 
 
 Again the child ! 
 
 "And what had she to do with my recovery?" Jose de- 
 manded fretfully. 
 
 "Quien sabe? It is sometimes that way when the little Car- 
 men says people shall not die. And then," he added sadly, 
 "sometimes they do die just the same. It is strange; we do not 
 understand it." The gentle soul sighed its perplexity. 
 
 Jose looked, up at him keenly. "Did the child say I should 
 not die?" he asked softly, almost in a whisper. 
 
 "Yes, Padre; she says God's children do not die," returned 
 Rosendo. 
 
 The priest's blood stopped in its mad surge and slowly began 
 to chill. God's children do not die! What uncanny influence 
 had he met with here in this crumbling, forgotten town? He 
 sought the index of his memory for the sensations he had felt 
 when he looked into the girl's eyes on his first morning in 
 Simiti. But memory reported back only impressions of good- 
 ness—beauty — love. 
 
 Then a dim light — only a feeble gleam — seemed to flash be- 
 fore him, but at a great distance. Something called him — not 
 by name, but by again touching that unfamiliar chord which 
 had vibrated in his soul when the child had first stood before 
 him. He felt a strange psychic presentiment as of things soon 
 to be revealed. A sentiment akin to awe stole over him, as if 
 he were standing in the presence of a great mystery — a mystery 
 so transcendental that the groveling minds of mortals have 
 never apprehended it. He turned again to the man sitting 
 beside his bed. 
 
 "Rosendo — ^where is she?" 
 
 "Asleep, Padre," pointing to the other bed. "But we must 
 not wake her," he admonished quickly, as the priest again 
 sought to rise; "we will talk of her to-morrow. I think — " 
 
 Rosendo stopped abruptly and looked at the priest as if he 
 would fathom the inmost nature of the man. Then he continued 
 uncertainly: 
 
 11 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "I — I may have some things to say to you to-morrow — if you 
 are well enough to hear them. But I will think about it to- 
 night, arid — if — Bien! I will think about it." 
 
 Rosendo rose slowly, as if weighted with heavy thoughts, 
 and went out into the living room. Presently he returned with 
 a rude, home-made broom and began to sweep a space on the 
 dirt floor in the corner opposite Jose. This done, he spread out 
 a light straw mat for his bed. 
 
 "The senora is preparing you a bowl of chicken broth and 
 rice. Padre," he said. "The little Garmeh saved a hen for you 
 when you should awake. She has fed it all the week on rice 
 and goat's milk. She said she knew you would wake up hun- 
 gry." 
 
 Jose's eyes had closely followed Rosendo's movements, al- 
 though he seemed not to hear his words. Suddenly he broke 
 forth in protest. 
 
 "Rosendo," he cried, "have I your bed? And do you sleep 
 there on the floor? I cannot permit this!" 
 
 "Say nothing. Padre," replied Rosendo, gently forcing Jos6 
 back again upon his bed. "My house is yours." 
 
 "But — the senora, your wife — where does she sleep?" 
 
 "She has her petate in the kitchen," was the quiet answer. 
 
 Only the two poor beds, which were occupied by the priest 
 and the child ! And Rosendo and his good wife had slept on 
 the hard dirt floor for a week ! Jose's eyes dimmed when he 
 realized the extent of their unselfish hospitality. And would 
 they continue to sleep thus on the ground, with nothing be- 
 neath them but a thin straw mat, as long as he might choose to 
 remain with them? Aye, he knew that they would, uncom- 
 plainingly. For these are the children of the "valley of the 
 pleasant 'yes.' " 
 
 Jose awoke the next morning with a song echoing in his 
 ears. He had dreamed of singing; and as consciousness slowly 
 returned, the dream-song became real. It floated in from the 
 living room on a clear, sweet soprano. When a child he had 
 heard such voices in the choir loft of the great Seville cathedral, 
 and he had thought that angels were singing. As he lay now 
 listening to it, memories of his childish dreams swept over 
 him in great waves. The soft, sweet cadences rose and fell. 
 His own heart swelled and pulsated with them, and his barren 
 soul once more surged under the impulse of a deep, potential 
 desire to manifest itself, its true self, unhampered at last by 
 limitation and convejition, unfettered by superstition, human 
 creeds and false ambition. Then the inevitable reaction set in; 
 a sickening sense of the futility of his longing settled over him, 
 and he turned his face to the wall, while hot tears streamed 
 over his sunken cheeks. 
 
 12 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Again through his wearied brain echoed the familiar ad- 
 monition, "Occupy till I come." Always the same invariable 
 response to his strained yearnings. The i^weet voice in the 
 adjoining room floated in through the dusty palm door. It 
 spread over his perturbed thought like oil on' troubled waters. 
 Perhaps it was the child singing. At this thought the sense of 
 awe seemed to settle upon him again. A child — a babe — had 
 said that he should live ! If a doctor had said it he would have 
 believed. But a child — absurd! It was a dream! But no; 
 Rosendo had said it; and there was no reason to doubt him. 
 But what had this child to do with it? Nothing! And yet — 
 was that wholly true? Then whence his Sensations when first 
 he saw her? Whence that feeling of standing in the presence 
 of a great mystery? "Out of the mouths of babes and suck- 
 lings — " Foolishness! To be sure, the child may have said 
 he should not die; but if he were to live — ^which God forbid! — 
 his own recuperative powers would restore him. Rosendo's 
 lively imagination certainly- had exaggerated the incident. 
 
 Exhausted by his mental efforts, and lulled by the low 
 singing, the priest sank into fitful slumber. As he slept he 
 dreamed. He was standing alone in a great desert. Darkness 
 encompassed him, and a fearful loneliness froze his soul. About 
 him lay bleaching bones. Neither trees nor vegetation broke 
 the dull monotony of the cheerless scene. Nothing but waste, 
 unutterably dreary waste, over which a chill wind tossed the 
 tinkling sand in fitful gusts. In terror he cried aloud. The 
 desert mocked his hollow cry. The darkness thickened. Again 
 he called, his heart sinking with despair. 
 
 Then, over the desolate waste, through the heavy gloom, a 
 voice seemed borne faint on the cold air, "Occupy till I come!" 
 He sank to his knees. His straining eyes caught the feeble 
 glint of a light, but at an immeasurable distance. Again he 
 called ; and again the same response, but nearer. A glow began 
 to suffuse the blackness about him. Nearer, ever nearer drew 
 the gleam. The darkness lifted. The rocks began to bud. 
 Trees and vines sprang from the waste sand. As if in a tre- 
 mendous explosion, a dazzling light burst full upon him, shat- 
 tering the darkness, fusing the stones about him, and blinding 
 his sight. A great presence stood before him. He struggled to 
 his feet; and as he did so a loud voice cried, "Behold, I come 
 quickly !" 
 
 "Senor Padre, you have been dreaming!" 
 
 The priest, sitting upright and clutching at the rough sides 
 of his bed, stared with wooden obliviousness into the face of 
 the little Carmen. 
 
 13 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 3 
 
 "TT'OU are well now, aren't you. Padre?" 
 
 Y It was not so much an interrogation as an affirmation, 
 an assumption of fact. 
 
 "Now you must come and see my garden — ^and Cucumbra, 
 too. And Cantar-Ias-horas; have you heard him? I scolded 
 him lots; and I know he wants to mind; but he just thinks he 
 can't stop singing the Vespers — the old stupid!" 
 
 While the child -prattled she drew a chair to the bedside 
 and arranged the bowl of broth and the two wheat rolls she 
 had brought. 
 
 "You are real hungry, and you are going to eat all of thvs 
 and get strong again. Right away!" she added, emphatically 
 expressing her confidence in the assumption. 
 
 Jose made no reply. . He seemed again to be trying to sound 
 the unfathomable depths of the child's brown eyes. Mechanically 
 he took the spoon she handed him. 
 
 "See!" she exclaimed, while her eyes danced. "A silver 
 spoon! Madre Ariza borrowed it from Dona Maria Alcozer. 
 They have lots of silver. Now eat." 
 
 From his own great egoism, his years of heart-ache, sorrows, 
 and shames, the priest's heavy thought slowly lifted and cen- 
 tered upon the child's beautiful face. The animated little 
 figure before him radiated such abundant life that he himself 
 caught the infection; and with it his sense of weakness passed 
 like an illusion. 
 
 "And look, Padre! The broth— isn't it good?" 
 
 Jose tasted, and declared it delicious. 
 
 "Well, you know" — the enthusiastic little maid clambered 
 up on the bed — ^"yesterday it was Maiiuela — she was my hen. 
 I told her a week ago that you would need her — " 
 
 "And you gave up your hen for me, little one?" he inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 "Why— yes. Padre. It was all right. I told her how it was. 
 And she clucked so hard, I knew she was glad to help the 
 good Cura. And she was so happy about it! I told her she 
 really wouldn't die. You know, things never do — do they?" 
 
 The priest hesitated. To hide his confusion and gain time 
 he began to eat rapidly, 
 
 "No, they don't," said the girl confidently, answering her 
 own question. "Because," she added, "God is everywhere— 
 isn't He?" 
 
 What manner of answer could he, of all men, make to such 
 
 14 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 terribly direct questions as these! And it was well that Car- 
 men evidently expected none — ^that in her great innocence she 
 assumed for him the same beautiful faith which she herself 
 held. 
 
 "Doiia Jacinta didn't die last week. But they said she did; 
 and so they took her to the cemetery and put her in a dark 
 boveda. And the black buzzards sat on the wall and watched 
 them. Padre Rosendo said she had gone to the angels — that 
 God took her. But, Padre, God doesn't make people sick, does 
 He? They get sick because they don't know who He is. Every 
 day I told God I knew He would cure you. And He did, didn't 
 He?" 
 
 While the girl paused for breath, her eyes sparkled, and 
 her face glowed with exaltation. Child-like, her active mind 
 flew from one topic to another, with no thought of connecting 
 links. 
 
 "This morning. Padre, two little green parrots flew across 
 the lake and perched on our roof. And they sat there and 
 watched Cucumbra eat his breakfast; and they tried to steal 
 his fish ; and they scolded so loud ! Why did they want to 
 steal from him, when there is so much to eat everywhere? 
 But they didn't know any better, did they? I don't think 
 parrots love each other very much, for they scold so hard. 
 Padre, it is so dark in here; come out and see the sun and the 
 lake and the mountains. And my garden^Padre, it is beauti- 
 ful! Esteban said next time he went up the trail he would 
 bring me a monkey for a pet; and I am going to name it Hom- 
 brecito. And Captain Julio is going to bring me a doll from 
 down the river. But," with a merry, musical trill, "Juan said 
 the night you came that you were my doll! Isn't he funny!" 
 And throwing back her little head, the child laughed heartily. 
 
 "Padre, you must help padre Rosendo with his arithmetic. 
 Every night he puts on his big spectacles and works so hard 
 to understand it. He says he knows Satan made fractions. 
 But, Padre, that isn't so, is it? Not if God made everything. 
 Padre, you know everything, don't you? Padre Rosendo said 
 you did. There are lots of things I want you to tell me — such 
 lots of things that nobody here knows anything about. Padre," 
 ■ — the child leaned toward the priest and whispered low — "the 
 people here don't know who God is ; and you are going to teach 
 them! There was a Cura here once, when I was a baby; but 
 I guess he didn't know God, either." 
 
 She lapsed into silence, as if pondering this thought. Then, 
 clapping her hands with unfeigned joy, she cried in a shrill 
 little voice, "Oh, Padre, I am so glad you have come to Simiti! 
 I just knew God would not forget us!" 
 
 15 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Jose had no reply to make. His thought was busy with 
 the phenomenon before him : a child of man, but one who, like 
 Israel of old, saw God and heard His voice at every turn of 
 her daily walk. Untutored in the ways of men, without trace 
 of sophistication or cant, unblemished as she moved among 
 the soiled vessels about her, shining with celestial radiance in 
 this unknown, moldering town so far from the world's beaten 
 paths. 
 
 The door opened softly and Rosendo entered, preceded by 
 a cheery greeting. 
 
 "Hombre!" he exclaimed, surveying the priest, "but you 
 mend fast ! You have eaten all the broth ! But I told the good 
 wife that the little Carmen would be better than medicine for 
 you, and that you must have her just as soon as you should 
 awake." 
 
 Jose's eyes dilated with astonishment. Absorbed in the 
 child, he had consumed almost his entire breakfast. 
 
 "He is well, padre Rosendo, he is well!" cried the girl, 
 bounding up and down and dancing about the tall form of her 
 foster-father. Then, darting to Jose, she seized his hand and 
 cried, "Now to see my garden! And Cucumbra! And — !" 
 
 "Quiet, child!" commanded Rosendo, taking her by the 
 arm. "The good Cura is ill, and must rest for several days 
 yet." 
 
 "No, padre Rosendo, he is well — all well! Aren't you. 
 Padre?" appealing to Jos6, and again urging him forth. 
 
 The rapidity of the conversation and the animation of the 
 beautiful child caused complete forgetfulness of self, and, to- 
 gether with the restorative effect of the wholesome food, acted 
 upon the priest like a magical tonic. Weak though he was, he 
 clung to her hand and, struggling out of the bed, stood uncer- 
 tainly upon the floor. Instantly Rosendo's arm was about him. 
 
 "Don't try it. Padre," the latter urged anxiously. "The 
 heat will be too much for you. Another day or two of rest will 
 make you right." . 
 
 But the priest, heedless of the admonition, suffered himself 
 to be led by the child; and together they passed slowly out into 
 the living room, through the kitchen, and thence into the 
 diminutive rose garden, the pride of the little Carmen. 
 
 Dona Maria, wife pf Rosendo, was bending over the primi- 
 tive fireplace, busy with her matutinal duties, having just 
 dusted the ashes from a corn arepa which she had prepared 
 for her consort's simple luncheon. She was a woman well 
 into the autumn of life; but her form possessed something of 
 the elegance of the Spanish dames of the colonial period; her 
 countenance bore an expression of benevolence, which ema- 
 
 16 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 nated from a gentle and affectionate heart; and her manner 
 combined both dignity and suavity. She greeted the priest 
 tenderly, and expressed mingled surprise and joy that he felt 
 able to leave his bed so soon. But as her eyes caught Rosendo's 
 meaning glance, and then turned to the child, they seemed to 
 indicate a full comprehension of the situation. 
 
 The rose garden consisted of a few square feet of black 
 earth, bordered by bits of shale, and seemingly scarce able to 
 furnish nourishment for the three or four little bushes. But, 
 though small, these were blooming in profusion. 
 
 "Padre Itosendo did this!" exclaimed the delighted girl. 
 "Every night he brings water from La Cienaga for them!" 
 
 Rosendo smiled patronizingly upon the child; but Jose saw 
 in the glance of his argus eyes a tenderness and depth of affec- 
 tion for her which bespoke nothing short of adoration. 
 
 Carmen bent over the roses, fondling and kissing them, and 
 addressing them endearing names. 
 
 "She calls them God's kisses," whispered Rosendo to the 
 priest. ' 
 
 At that moment a low growl was heard. Jose turned quick- 
 ly and confronted a gaunt dog, a wild breed, with eyes fixed 
 upon the priest and white fangs showing menacingly beneath 
 a curling lip. 
 
 "Oh, Cucumbra!" cried the child, rushing to the beast and 
 throwing her arms about its shaggy neck. "Haven't I told you 
 to love everybody? And is that the way to show it? Now 
 kiss the Cura's hand, for he loves you." 
 
 The brute sank at her feet. Then as she took the priest's 
 hand and held it to the dog's mouth, he licked it with his 
 rough tongue. 
 
 The priest's brain was now awhirl. He stood gazing at the 
 child as if fascinated. Through his jumbled thought there ran 
 an insistent strain, "He that hath seen me hath seen the Father. 
 The Father dwelleth in me and I in Him." He did not associate 
 these words with the Nazarene now, but with the barefoot girl 
 before him. Again within the farthest depths of his soul he 
 heard the soft note of a vibrating chord — that chord which all 
 the years of his unhappy life had hung mute, until here, in this 
 moldering town, in the wilderness of forgotten Guamocd, the 
 hand of Love had swept it. 
 
 The sun stood at the zenith. The day was white-hot. Doiia 
 Maria summoned her little family to the midday repast. Ro- 
 sendo brought a chair for Jose and placed it near the rose 
 garden in the shade of the house, for, despite all protest, the 
 priest had stubbornly refused to return to his bed. Left now to 
 himself, his thought hovered about the child, and then drifted 
 
 17 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 out across the incandescent shales to the beautiful lake beyond. 
 The wat«r lay like shimmering glass. In the distance the 
 •wooded slopes of the San Lucas mountains rose like green bil- 
 h)ws. Brooding silence spread over the scene. It was Nature's 
 hour of siesta. In his own heart there was a great peace — and 
 a strange expectancy. He seemed to be awaiting a revelation 
 of things close at hand. In a way he felt that he had accom- 
 plished his purpose of coming to Simiti to die, and that he was 
 now awaiting the resurrection. 
 
 The peaceful revery was interrupted by Rosendo. "Padre, 
 if you will not return to your bed — " He regarded the priest 
 dubiously. 
 
 "No, Rosendo. I grow stronger every minute. But — where 
 is Carmen?" 
 
 "She must help her mother." 
 
 A long pause ensued, while Jose impatiently waited for 
 Rosendo to continue. The child was becoming his obsession. 
 He was eager to talk of her, to learn her history, to see her, 
 for her presence meant complete obliteration of self. 
 
 "Padre," Rosendo at length emerged from his meditation. 
 "I would like to speak 'of "the little Carmen." 
 
 "Yes," responded Jose with animation. Life and strength 
 seemed to return to him with a bound. 
 
 "But — what say you? Shall we visit the church, which is 
 only across the road? There we can talk without interruption. 
 No one will be in the streets during the heat. And I will 
 carry you over." 
 
 "Let us go to the church, yes ; but I can walk. It is only a 
 step." 
 
 Jose leaned upon Rosendo, the latter supporting him with 
 his great arm, and together they crossed the road and mounted 
 the shale platform on which stood the ancient edifice. Rosendo 
 produced a huge key of antique pattern; and the rusty lock, 
 after much resistance, yielded with a groan, and the heavy 
 door creaked open, emitting an odor of dampness and must. 
 Doffing their hats, the men entered the long, barn-like room. 
 Rosendo carefully closed and locked the door behind them, a 
 precaution necessary in a drowsing town of this nature, where 
 the simple folk who see day after day pass without concern or 
 event to break the deadening monotony, assemble in eager, 
 buzzing multitudes at the slightest prospect of extraordinary 
 interest. 
 
 The room was dimly lighted, and was open to the peak of 
 the roof. From the rough-hewn rafters above hung hundreds 
 of hideous bats. At the far end stood the altar. It was 
 adorned with decrepit images, and held a large wooden statue 
 
 18 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 of the Virgin. This latter object was veiled with two flimsy 
 curtains, which were designed to be raised and lowered with 
 great pomp and the ringing of a little bell during service. The 
 image was attired in real clothes, covered with tawdry finery, 
 gilt paper, and faded ribbons. The head bore a wig of hair; 
 and the face was painted, although great sections of the paint 
 had fallen away, leaving the suggestion of pockmarks. Beneath 
 this image was located the sagrario, the little cupboard in which 
 the hostid, the sacred wafer, was wont to be kept exposed in 
 the custodia, a cheap receptacle composed of two watch crys- 
 tals. At either side of this stood half consumed wax tapers. A 
 few rough benches were strewn about the floor; and dust and 
 green mold lay thick over all. 
 
 At the far right-hand corner of the building a lean-to had 
 been erected to serve as the sacristia, or vestry.. In the worm- 
 eaten wardrobe within hung a few vestments, adorned with 
 cheap finery, and heavily laden with dust, over which scam- 
 pered vermin of many varieties. An air of desolation and 
 abandon hung over the whole church, and to Jose seemed to 
 symbolize the decay of a sterile faith. 
 
 Rosendo carefully dusted off a bench near one of the win- 
 dows and bade Jose be seated. 
 
 "Padre," he began, after some moments of deep reflection, 
 "the little Carmen is not an ordinary child." 
 
 "I have seen that, Rosendo," interposed Jose. 
 
 "We — we do not understand her," Rosendo went on, care- 
 fully weighing his words; "and we sometimes think she is not 
 — not altogether like us — that her coming was a miracle. But 
 you do not believe in miracles," he added quizzically. 
 
 "Why do you say that, Rosendo?" Jose returned in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 Rosendo paused before replying. 
 
 "You were very sick. Padre; and in the fever you — " the 
 impeccably honest fellow hesitated. 
 
 "Yes, I thought so," said Jose with an air of weary resigna- 
 tion. "And what else did I say, Rosendo?" 
 
 The faultless courtesy of the artless Rosendo, a courtesy 
 so genuine that Jose knew it came right from the heart, made 
 conversation on this topic a matter of extreme difficulty to him. 
 
 "Do not be uneasy, Padre," he said reassuringly. "I alone 
 heard you. Whenever you began to talk I would not let others 
 listen; and I stayed with you every day and night. But — it is 
 just because of what you said in the calentura that 1 am speak- 
 ing to you now of the little Carmen." 
 
 Because of what he had said in his delirium! Josh's aston- 
 ishment grew apace. 
 
 19 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Padre, many bad priests have been sent to Simiti. It has 
 been our curse. Priests -who stirred up revolution elsewhere, 
 who committed murder, and ruined the lives of fair women, 
 have been put upon us. And when in Badillo I learned that 
 you had been -sent to our parish, I was filled with fear. I — I 
 lost a daughter. Padre — " 
 
 The good man hesitated again. Then, as a look of stern 
 resolution spread over his strong, dark face, he continued : 
 
 "It was Padre Diego! We drove him out of Simiti four 
 years ago. But my daughter, my only child, went with him." 
 The great frame shook with emotion, while he hurried on 
 disconnectedly. 
 
 "Padre, the priest Diego said that the little Carmen should 
 become a Sister — a nun — that she must be sent to the convent 
 in Mompox — that she belonged to the Church, and the Church 
 would some day have her. But, by the Holy Virgin, the Church 
 shall not have her! And I myself will slay her before this 
 altar rather than let such as Padre Diego lay their slimy paws 
 upon the angel child!" 
 
 Rosendo leaped to his feet and began to pace the floor with 
 great strides. The marvelous frame of the man, in which beat 
 a heart too big for the sordid passions of the flesh, trembled as 
 he walked. Jose watched him in mute admiration, mingled 
 with astonishment and a heightened sense of expectancy. Pres- 
 ently Rosendo returned and seated himself again beside the 
 priest. 
 
 "Padre, I have lived in terror ever since Diego left Simiti. 
 For myself I do not fear, for if ever I meet with the wretch I 
 shall wring his neck with my naked hands ! But — for the little 
 Carmen — Dios.' they might steal her at any time! There are 
 men here who would do it for a few pesos! And how could 
 I prevent it? I pray daily to the Virgin to protect her. She — 
 she is the light of my life. I watch over her hourly. I neglect 
 my hacienda, that I may guard her — ^and I am a poor man, 
 and cannot afford not to work." 
 
 The man buried his face ia his huge hands and groaned 
 aloud. Jose remained pityingly silent, knowing that Rosendo's 
 heaving heart must empty itself. 
 
 "Padre," Rosendo at length i^ised his head. His features 
 were drawn, but his eyes glowed fiercely. "Priests have com- 
 mitted dark deeds here, and this altar has dripped with blood. 
 When a child, with my own eyes I saw a priest elevate the Host 
 before this altar, as the people knelt in adoration. While their 
 heads were bowed I saw him drive a knife into the neck of a 
 man who was his enemy; and the blood spurted over the image 
 of the Virgin and fell upon the Sacred Host itself! And what 
 
 20 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 did the wicked priest say in defense? Simply that he took this 
 time to assassinate his man because then the victim could die 
 adoring the Host and under the most favorable circumstances 
 for salvation! Hombre! And did the priest pay the penalty 
 for his crime? No! The Bishop of Cartagena transferred him 
 to another parish, and told him to do better in future!" 
 
 Jose started in horror. But Rosendo did not stop. 
 
 "And I remember the story my father used to tell of the 
 priest who poisoned a whole family in Simiti with the com- 
 munion wafer. Their estates had been willed to the Church, 
 and he was impatient to have the management of them. Again 
 nothing was done about it." 
 
 "But, Rosendo, if Simiti has been so afflicted by bad priests, 
 why are you confiding in me?" Jose asked in wonder. 
 
 "Because, Padre," Rosendo replied, "in the fever you 'said 
 many things that made me think you were not a bad man. I 
 did suspect you at first — but not after I heard you talk in your 
 sleep. You, too, have suffered. And the Church has caused 
 it. No, not God; but the men who say they know what He 
 thinks and says. They make us all suffer. And after I heard 
 you tell those things in your fever-sleep, I said to Maria that 
 if you lived I knew you would help me protect the little Car- 
 men. Then, too, you are a^ — " He lapsed abruptly into silence. 
 
 Jose pressed Rosendo's hand. "Tell me about her. You 
 . have said she is not your daughter. I ask only because of 
 sincere affection for you all, and because the child has aroused 
 in me an unwonted interest." 
 
 Rosendo looked steadily into the-eyes of the priest for some 
 moments. Jose as steadily returned the glance. From the 
 eyes of the one there emanated a soul-searching scrutiny; from 
 those of the other an answering bid for confidence. The bid 
 was accepted, 
 
 "Padre," began Rosendo, "I place trust in you. Something 
 makes me believe that you are not -like other priests I have 
 known. And I have seen that you already love the little Car- 
 men. No, she is not my child. One day, about eight years ago, 
 a steamer on its way down the river touched at Badillo to put 
 off a young woman, who was so sick that the captain feared 
 she would die on board. He knew nothing of her, except that 
 she had embarked at Honda and was bound for Barranquilla. 
 He hoped that by leaving her in the care of the good people of 
 Badillo something might be done. The boat went its way; and 
 the next morning the woman died, shortly after her babe was 
 born. They buried her back of the village, and Escolastico's 
 woman took the child. They tried to learn the history of the 
 mother; but, though the captain of the boat made many in- 
 
 21 
 
CARMEN ARI2A 
 
 quiries, he could only find that she had come from Bogota the 
 day before the boat left Honda, and that she was then very sick. 
 Some weeks afterward Escolastico happened to come to Simiti, 
 and told me the story. He complained that his family was 
 already large, and that his woman found the care of the babe 
 a burden. I love children. Padre, and it seemed to me that I 
 could find a place for the little one, and I told him I would 
 fetch her. And so a few days later I brought her to Simiti. But 
 before leaving Badillo I fixed a wooden cross over the mother's 
 grave and wrote on it in pencil the name 'Dolores' for that 
 was the name in the little gold locket which we found in her 
 valise. There were some clothes, better than the average, and 
 the locket. In the locket were two small pictures, one of a 
 young man, with the name 'Guillermo' written beneath it, and 
 one of the woman, with 'Dolores' under it. That was all. 
 Captain Julio took the locket to Honda when he made inquiries 
 there; but brought it back again, saying that nobody recog- 
 nized the faces. I named the babe Carmen, and have brought 
 her up as my own child. She — Padre, I adore her!" 
 
 Jose listened in breathless silence. 
 
 "But we sometimes think," said Rosendo, resuming his 
 dramatic narrative, "that it was all a miracle, perhaps a dream; 
 that it was the angels who left the babe on the river bank, for 
 she herself is not of the earth." 
 
 "Tell me, Rosendo, just what you mean," said Jose rev- 
 erently, laying his hand gently upon the older man's arm. 
 
 Rosendo shook his head slowly. "Talk with her. Padre, and 
 you will see, I cannot explain. Only, she is not like us. She 
 is like—" 
 
 His voice dropped to a whisper. 
 
 " — she is like — God. And she knows Him better than she 
 knows me." 
 
 Jose's head slowly sank upon his breast. The gloom within 
 the musty church was thick; and the bats stirred restlessly 
 among the dusty rafters overhead. Outside, the relentless heat 
 poured down upon the deserted streets. 
 
 "Padre," Rosendo resumed. "In the calentura you talked 
 of wonderful things. You spoke of kings and popes and for- 
 eign lands, of beautiful cities and great marvels of which we 
 know nothing. It was wonderful! And you recited beautiful 
 poems — ^but often in other tongues than ours. Padre, you must 
 be very learned. I listened, and was astonished, for we are 
 so ignorant here in Simiti, oh, so ignorant! We have no 
 schools, and our poor little children grow up to be only peones 
 and fishermen. But— the little Carmen— ah, she has a mind' 
 
 Padre 
 
 22 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Again he lapsed into silence, as if fearful to ask the boon. 
 
 "Yes, Rosendo, yes," Jose eagerly reassured him. "Go on." 
 
 Rosendo turned full upon the priest and spoke rapidly. 
 "Padre, will you teach the little Carmen what you know? Will 
 you make her a strong, learned woman, and fit her to do big 
 things in the world — and then — then — " 
 
 "Yes, Rosendo?" 
 
 " — then get her away from Simiti? She does not belong 
 here. Padre. And — " his voice sank to a hoarse whisper — 
 "will you help me keep her from the Church?" 
 
 Jose sat staring at the man with dilating eyes. 
 
 "Padre, she has her own Church. It is her heart." 
 
 He leaned over and laid a hand upon the priest's knee. His 
 dark eyes seemed to burn like glowing coals. His whispered 
 words were fraught with a meaning which Jose would some 
 day learn. 
 
 "Padre, that must be left alone!" 
 
 A long silence fell upon the two men, the one massive of 
 frame and black of face, but with a mind as simple as a child's 
 and a heart as white as the snow that sprinkled his raven 
 locks — ^the other a youth in years, but bowed with disappoint- 
 ment and suffering; yet now listening with hushed breath to 
 the words that rolled with a mighty reverberation through the 
 chambers of his soul: 
 
 "I am God, and there is none else! Behold, I come quickly! 
 Arise, shine, for thy light is come!" 
 
 The sweet face of the child rose out of the gloom before 
 the' priest. The years rolled back like a curtain, and he saw 
 himself at her tender age, a white, unformed soul, awaiting 
 the sculptor's hand. God forbid that the hand which shaped 
 his career should form the plastic mind of this girl! 
 
 Of a sudden a great thought flashed out of the depths of 
 eternity and into his brain, a thought which seemed to illumine 
 his whole past life. In the clear light thereof he seemed in- 
 stantly to read meanings in numberless events which to that 
 hour had remained hidden. His complex, misshapen career 
 — could it have been a preparation? — and for this? He had 
 yearned to serve his fellow-men, but had miserably failed. 
 For, while to will was always present with him, even as with 
 Paul, yet how to perform that which was good, he found not. 
 But now — ^what an opportunity opened before him! What a 
 beautiful offering of self was here made possible? God, what 
 a privilege! 
 
 Rosendo sat stolid, buried in thought. Jose reached out 
 through the dim light and grasped his black hand. His eyes 
 were lucent, his heart burned with the fire of an unknown 
 enthusiasm, and speech stumbled across his lips. 
 
 23 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Rosendo, I came to Simiti to die. And now I know that I 
 shall die — to myself. But thereby shall I live. Yes, I shall' 
 live ! And here before this altar, in the sight of that God whom 
 she knows so well, I pledge my new-found life to Carmen. My 
 mind, my thought, my strength, are henceforth hers. May 
 her God direct me in their right use for His beautiful child!" 
 
 Jose and Rosendo rose from the bench with hands still 
 clasped. In that hour the priest was born again. 
 
 CHAPTER 4 
 
 "TJE that loseth his life for my sake shall find it." 
 I~l The reporters of the unique Man of Galilee, upon 
 whose straining ears these words fell, noted them for 
 future generations of footsore pilgrims on life's wandering 
 highway— for the rich, satiated with their gorgeous gluttonies; 
 for the proud Levite, with his feet enmeshed in the lifeless 
 letter of the Law; for the loathsome and outcast beggar at the 
 gates of Dives. And for Jose de Rincon, priest of the Holy 
 Catholic Church and vicar of Christ, scion of aristocracy and 
 worldly learning, now humbled and blinded, like Paul on the 
 road to Damascus, begging that his spiritual sight might be 
 opened to the glory of the One with whom he had not known 
 how to walk. 
 
 Returning in silence from the church to Rosendo's humble 
 cottage, Jose had asked leave to retire. He would be alone with 
 the great Presence which had come to him across the desert 
 of his life, and now stood before him in the brightness of the 
 undimmed sun. He no longer felt ill nor exhausted. Indeedi 
 quite the contrary; a quickened sense of life, an eagerness to 
 embrace the opportunity opening before him, caused his chest 
 to heave and his shrunken veins to throb. 
 
 On his bed in the darkenecf room he lay in a deep silence, 
 broken only at intervals by the hurried scampering of lizards 
 dafting through the interstices of the dry walls. His uncom- 
 prehending eyes were fixed upon the dust-laden thatch of the 
 roof overhead, where droning wasps toiled upon their frail 
 abodes. He lay with the portals of his mind opened wide. 
 Through them, in ceaseless flow, passed two streams which 
 did not mingle. The one, outward bound, turbid with its 
 burden of egoism, fear, perplexity, and hopelessness, which, 
 like barnacles, had fastened to his soul on its chartless voyage; 
 the other, a stream of hope and confidence and definite pur- 
 pose, a stream which leaped and sang in the warm sunlight of 
 Love as it poured into his receptive brain. 
 
 24 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The fresh thought which flowed into his mental chambers 
 rapidly formed into orderly plans, all centering upon the child. 
 Carmen. What could he teach her? The relative truths and 
 worldly knowledge — ^purified, as far as in him lay, from the 
 dross of speculation and human opinion — which lay stored in 
 the archives of his mind? Yes; but that was all. History, and 
 its interpretation . of human progress; the languages; mathe- 
 matics, and the elements of the physical sciences; literature; 
 and a knowledge of people and places. With these his retentive 
 mind was replete. But beyond this he must learn of her. And 
 her tutor, he now knew, was the Master Mind, omniscient God. 
 And he knew, more, that she possessed secrets whose potency 
 he might as yet scarcely imagine. For, in an environment which 
 for dearth of mental stimulus and incentive could scarcely be 
 matched; amid poverty but slightly raised above actual want; 
 untouched by the temperamental hopelessness which lies just 
 beneath the surface of these dull, simple folk, this child lived 
 a life of such ecstasy as might well excite the envy of the 
 world's potentates. 
 
 But meantime,- what should, be his attitude toward the 
 parish? He fully realized that he and the Church were now 
 as far apart as the poles. Yet this was become his parish, the 
 first he had ever held; arid these were his people. And he 
 must face them and preach — what? If not the Ca);holic faith, 
 then would he be speedily removed. And that meant complete 
 disruption of his rapidly formulating plans. But might he not 
 in that event flee with Carmen, renounce the Church, and — 
 
 Impossible! Excommunication alone could sever the oath 
 by which the Church held him. And foi" that he could not say 
 that he was ready. For excommunication meant disgrace to 
 his mother — ^perhaps the snapping of a heart already sorely 
 strained. To renounce his oath was dishonor. To preach the 
 Catholic faith without sincerity was scarcely less. Yet amid 
 present circumstances this seemed the only course open to 
 him. 
 
 But what must he teach Carmen in regard to the Church? 
 Could he maintain his position in it, yet not of it; and at the 
 same time rear her without its pale, yet so as not to conflict 
 with the people of Simiti, nor cause such comment as might 
 reach the ears of the Bishop of Cartagena? God alone knew. 
 It must be attempted, at any rate. There was no other way. 
 And if it was God's plan, he might safely trust Him for the 
 requisite strength and wisdom. For this course the isolation 
 of Simiti and the childish simplicity of its people afforded a 
 tremendous advantage. On the other hand, he knew that both 
 he and Carmen had powerful enemies. Yet, one with God 
 might rout a host. And Carmen walked with God. 
 
 25 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Thus throughout the afternoon the priest weighed and pon- 
 dered the thoughts that sought admission to his reawakened 
 mind. He was not interrupted until sundown; and then Car- 
 men entered the room with a bowl of chocolate and some small 
 wheaten loaves. Behind her, with an amusing show of dignity, 
 stalked a large heron, an elegant bird, with long, scarlet legs, 
 gray plumage, and a gracefully curved neck. When the bird 
 reached the threshold it stopped, and without warning gave 
 vent to a prolonged series of shrill, unmusical sounds. The 
 startled priest sat up in his bed and exclaimed in amazement. 
 
 "It is only Cantar-las-horas, Padre," laughed the little maid. 
 "He follows me wherever I go, unless he is off fishing. Some- 
 times when I go out in the boat with padre Rosendo he flies 
 clear across the lake to meet us. He is lots older than I, and 
 years ago, when there were Curas here, he learned his song. 
 Whenever the Angelas rang he would try to sing just like it; 
 and now he has the habit and can't help it. But he is such 
 a dear, wise old fellow," twining a chubby arm lovingly about 
 the bird's slender neck; "and he always sings just at six o'clock, 
 the time the Angelus used to. ring." 
 
 The heron manifested the deepest affection for the child as 
 she gently stroked its plumage and caressed its long, pointed 
 bill. 
 
 "But how do you suppose he knows when it is just six 
 o'clock,, c/iiq'ui7a?" asked Jose, deeply interested in the strange 
 phenomenon. 
 
 "God tells him, Padre," was the direct and simple reply. 
 
 Assuredly, he should have known that! But he was fast 
 learning of this unusual child, whose every movement was a 
 demonstration of Immanuel. 
 
 "Does God tell you what to do. Carmen?" he asked, seeking 
 to draw out the girl's strange thought, that he might probe 
 deeper into her religious convictions. 
 
 "Why, yes. Padre." Her tone expressed surprise. "Doesn't 
 He tell you, too?" Her great eyes searched him. He was a 
 Cura; he should be very close to God. 
 
 "Yes, chiquita — that is. He has told me to-day what to do." 
 
 There was a shade of disappointment in her voice when 
 she replied: "I guess you mean you listened to Him to-day, 
 don't you, Padre? I think sometimes you don't want to hear 
 Him. But," she finisTied with a little sigh, "there are lots of 
 people here who don't; and that is why they are sick and un^ 
 happy." 
 
 Jos6 was learning another lesson, that of guarding his 
 speech to this ingenuous girl. He discreetly changed the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 26 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "What have you been doing this afternoon, little one?" 
 
 Her eyes instantly brightened, and the dark shade that had 
 crossed her face disappeared. 
 
 "Well, after the siesta I helped madre Maria clean the 
 yuccas for supper; and then I did my writing lesson. Padre 
 Rosendo told me to-day that I could -write better than he. But, 
 Padre, will you teach madre Maria to read and write? And 
 there are just lots of poor people here who can't, too. There 
 is a school teacher in Simiti, but he charges a whole peso oro 
 a month for teaching; and the people haven't the money, and 
 so they can't learn." 
 
 Always the child shifted his thought from herself to others. 
 Again she showed him that the road to happiness wound among 
 the needs of his fellow-men. The priest mentally recorded the 
 instruction; and the girl continued: 
 
 "Padre Rosendo told madre Maria that you said you had 
 come to Simiti to die. You were not thinking of us then, were 
 you. Padre? People who think only of themselves always want 
 to die. That was why Don Luis died last year. He had lots 
 of gold, and he always wanted more, and he was cruel and self- 
 ■ ish, and he couldn't talk about anything but himself and how 
 rich he was — and so he died. He didn't really die; but he 
 thought about himself until he thought he died. And so they 
 buried him. That's what always happens to people who think 
 about themselves all the time — they get buried." 
 
 Jose was glad of the silence that fell upon them. Wrapped 
 so long in his own egoism, he had now no worldly wisdom with 
 which to match this girl's sapient words. He waited. He felt 
 that Carmen was but the channel through which a great Voice 
 was speaking. 
 
 f ^ "Padre," the tones were tender and soft, "you don't always 
 think of good things, do you?" 
 
 "I? Why, no, little girl. I guess I haven't done so. That 
 is, not always. But — " 
 
 "Because if you had you wouldn't have been driven into 
 the lake that day. And you wouldn't be here now in Simiti." 
 
 "But, child, even a Cura cannot always think of good things, 
 when he sees so much wickedness in the world!" 
 
 "But, Padre, God is good, isn't He?" 
 
 "Yes, child." The necessity to answer could not be avoided. 
 
 "And He is everywhere?" 
 
 ••Yes." He "had to say it. 
 
 "Then where is the wickedness. Padre?" 
 
 "Why — but, chiquita, you don't understand; you are too 
 young to reason about such things; and — " 
 
 Jn his heart Jose knew he spoke not the truth. He felt the 
 
 27 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 great brown eyes of the girl penetrate his naked soul; and he 
 knew that in the dark recesses of the inner man they fell upon 
 the grinning skeleton of hypocrisy. Carmen might be, doubt- 
 less was, incapable of reasoning. Of logical processes she knew 
 nothing. But by what crass assumption might he, admittedly 
 woefully defeated in his combat with Fate, oppose his feeble 
 shafts of worldly logic to this child's instinct, an instinct of 
 whose inerrancy her daily walk was a living demonstration? 
 In quick penitence and humility he stretched out his arm and 
 drew her unresisting to him. 
 
 "Dear little child of God," he murmured, as he bent over 
 her and touched his lips to her rich brown curls, "I have tried 
 my life long to learn what you already know. And at last I 
 have been led to you — to you, little one, who shall be a lamp 
 unto my feet. Dearest child, I want to know your God as you 
 know Him. I want you to lead me to Him, for you know where 
 He is." 
 
 "He is everywhere, Padre dear," whispered the child, as she 
 nestled close to the priest and stole her soft arms gently about 
 his neck. "But we don't see Him nor hear Him if we have bad 
 thoughts, and if we don't love everybody and everything, even 
 Cucumbra, and Cantar-las-horas, and — " 
 
 "Yes, chiquita, I know now," interrupted Jose. "I don't 
 wonder they all love you." 
 
 "But, Padre dear, I love them — and I love you." 
 
 The priest strained her to him. His famished heart yearned 
 for love. Love ! first of the tender graces which adorned this 
 beautiful child. Verily, only those imbued with it become the 
 real teachers of men. The beloved disciple's last instruction to 
 his dear children was the tender admonition to love one an- 
 other. But why, oh, why are we bidden to love the fallen, 
 sordid outcasts of this wicked world — the wretched, sinning 
 pariahs — the greedy, grasping, self-centered mass of humanity 
 that surges about us in such woeful confusion of good and 
 evil? Because the wise Master did. Because he said that God 
 was Love. Because he taught that he who loves not, knows 
 not God. And because, oh, wonderful spiritual alchemy! be- 
 cause Love is the magical potion which, dropping like heavenly 
 dew upon sinful humanity, dissolves the vice, the sorrow, the 
 carnal passions, and transmutes the brutish mortal into the 
 image and likeness of the perfect God. 
 
 Far into the night, while the child slept peacefully in the 
 bed near him, Jose lay thinking of her and of the sharp turn 
 which she had given to the direction of his life. Through the 
 warm night air the hoarse croaking of distant frogs and the 
 mournful- note of the toucan floated to his ears. In the street 
 
 28 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 without he heard at intervals the pattering of bare feet in the 
 hot, thick dust, as tardy fishermen returned from their labors. 
 The hum of insects about his toldo lulled him with its low 
 monotone. The call of a lonely jaguar drifted across the still 
 lake from the brooding jungle beyond. A great peace lay over 
 the ancient town; and when, in the early hours of morning, as 
 the distorted moon hung low in the western sky, Jos6 awoke, 
 the soft breathing of the child fell upon his ears like a benedic- 
 tion; and deep from his heart there welled a prayer — 
 "My God— .her God— at last I thank Thee!" 
 
 CHAPTER 5 
 
 THE day following was filled to the brim with bustling ac- 
 tivity. Jose plunged into his new life with an enthusiasm 
 he had never known before. His first care was to relieve 
 Rpsendo and his good wife of the burden of housing him. 
 Rosendo, protesting against the intimation that the priest could 
 in any way inconvenience him, at last suggested that the house 
 adjoining his own, a small, three-room cottage, was vacant, and 
 might be had at a nominal rental. Some repairs were needed; 
 the mud had fallen from the walls in several places; but he 
 would plaster it up again and put it into habitable condition 
 at once. 
 
 During the discussion Don Mario, the Alcalde, called to pay 
 his respects to Jose. He had just returned from a week's visit 
 to Ocana, whither he had gone on matters of business with 
 Simiti's most eminent citizen, Don Felipe Alcozer, who, was at 
 present sojourning there for reasons of health. Learning of the 
 priest's recent severe illness, Don Mario had hastened at once to 
 pay his devoirs. And now the Holy Virgin be praised that he 
 beheld the Cura again fully restored! Yes, the dismal little 
 house in question belonged to him, but would the Cura gra- 
 ciously accept it, rent free, and with his most sincere compli- 
 ments? Jose glanced at Rosendo and, reading a meaning in 
 the slight shake of his head, replied that, although overwhelmed 
 by the Alcalde's kindness, he could take the cottage only on 
 the condition that it should become the parish house, which 
 the Church must support. A shade of disappointment seemed 
 to cross the heavy face of Don Mario, but he graciously ac- 
 quiesced in the priest's suggestion; and arrangements were at 
 once concluded whereby the house became the dwelling place 
 of the new Cura. 
 
 Rosendo thereupon sent out a call for assistants, to which 
 
 29 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the entire unemployed male population of the town responded. 
 Mud for the walls was hastily brought from the lake, and mixed 
 with manure and dried grass. A half dozen young men started 
 for the islands to cut fresh thatch for the roof. Others set 
 about scraping the hard dirt floors; while Don Mario gave 
 orders which secured a table, several rough chairs, together 
 with iron stewpans and a variety of enameled metal dishes, all 
 of which Rosendo insisted should be charged against the parish. 
 The village carpenter, with his rusty tools and rough, undressed 
 lumber, constructed a bed in one of the rooms; and Juan, the 
 boatman, laboriously sought out stones of the proper shape 
 and size to support the cooking utensils in the primitive dirt 
 hearth. 
 
 Often, as he watched the progress of these arrangements, 
 Jose's thoughts reverted longingly to his father's comfortable 
 house in far-off Seville; to his former simple quarters in Rome; 
 and to the less pretentious, but still wholly sufficient menage 
 of Cartagena. Compared with this primitive dwelling and the 
 simple husbandry which it would shelter, his former abodes 
 and manner of life had been extravagantly luxurious. At times 
 he felt a sudden sinking of heart as he reflected that perhaps 
 he should never again know anything better than the lowly 
 life of this dead town. But when his gaze rested upon the 
 little Carmen, flying hither and yon with an ardent, anticipatory 
 interest in every detail of the preparations, and when he real- 
 ized that, though her feet seemed to rest in the squalid setting 
 afforded by this dreary place, yet her thought dwelt ever in 
 heaven, his heart welled again with a great thankfulness for 
 the inestimable privilege of giving his new life, in whatever 
 environment, to a soul so fair as hers. 
 
 While his house was being set in order under the direction 
 of Rosendo, Jose visited the church with the Alcalde to formu- 
 late plans for its immediate repair and renovation. As he 
 surveyed the ancient pile and reflected that it stood as a monu- 
 ment to the inflexible religious convictions of his own distant 
 progenitors, the priest's sensibilities were profoundly stirred. 
 How little he knew of that long line of illustrious ancestry 
 which preceded him! He had been thrust from under the 
 parental wing at the tender age of twelve; but he could not 
 recall that even before that event his father had ever made 
 more than casual" mention of the family. Indeed, in the few 
 months since arriving on ancestral soil Jose had gathered up 
 more of the threads which bound him to th'e ancient house of 
 Rincon than in all the years which preceded. Had he himself 
 only been capable of the unquestioning acceptance of religious 
 dogma which those old Conqueros and early forbears exhibited, 
 
 30 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 to what position of eminence in Holy Church might he not 
 already have attained, with every avenue open to still greater 
 preferment! How happy were his dear mother then! How 
 glorious their honored name! — 
 
 With a sigh the priest roused himself and strove to thrust 
 these disturbing thoughts from his mind by centering his atten- 
 tion upon the work in hand. Doiia Maria came to him for 
 permission to take the moldy vestments from the sacristia to 
 her house to clean them. The Alcalde, bustling about, panting 
 and perspiring, was distributing countless orders among his 
 willing assistants. Carmen, who throughout the morning had 
 . been everywhere, bubbling with enthusiasm, now appeared at 
 the church door. As she entered the musty, ill-smelling old 
 building she hesitated 'on the threshold, her childish face 
 screwed into an expression of disgust. 
 
 "Gome in, little one; I need your inspiration," called Jose 
 cheerily. 
 
 The child approached, and slipped her hand into his. 
 "Padre Rosendo says this is God's house," she commented, 
 looking up at Jose. "He says you are going to talk about God 
 here — ^in this dirty, smelly old place ! Why don't you talk about 
 Him out of doors?" 
 
 Jose was becoming innured to the embarrassment which her 
 direct questions occasioned. And he was learning not to dis- 
 semble in his replies. 
 
 "It is because the people want to come here, dear one; it is 
 their custom." 
 
 Would the people believe that the wafer and wine could be 
 changed into the flesh and blood of Jesus elsewhere — even in 
 Nature's temple? 
 
 "But I don't want to come here!" she asseverated. 
 
 "That was a naughty thing to say to the good Cura, child!" 
 interposed Don Mario, who had overheard the girl's remark. 
 "You see. Padre, how we need a Cura here to save these chil- 
 dren; otherwise the Church is going to lose them. They are 
 running pretty wild,, and especially this one. She is already 
 dedicated to the Church; but she will have to learn to speak 
 more reverently of holy things if she expects to become a good 
 Sister." 
 
 The child looked uncomprehendingly from one to the other. 
 
 "Who dedicated her to the Church?" demanded Jose 
 sharply. 
 
 "Oh, Padre Diego, at her baptism, when she was a baby," 
 replied Don Mario in a matter of fact tone. 
 
 Jose shuddered at the thought of that unholy man's loath- 
 some hands resting upon the innocent girl. But he made no 
 
 31 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 immediate reply. Of all things, he knew that the guarding of 
 his own tongue was now most important. But his thought was 
 busy with Rosendo's burning words of the preceding day, and 
 with his own solemn vow. He reflected on his present para- 
 doxical, hazardous position; on the tremendous problem which 
 here confronted him; and on his desperate need of wisdom — 
 yea, superhuman wisdom — to ward off from this child the net 
 which he knew the subtlety and cruel cunning of shrewd, un- 
 scrupulous men would som« day cause to be cast about her. A 
 soul like hers, mirrored in a body so wondrous fair, must 
 eventually draw the devil's most envenomed barbs. 
 
 To Jose's great relief Don Mario turned immediately from 
 the present topic to one relating to the work of renovation. 
 Finding a pretext for sending Carmen back to the house, the 
 priest gave his attention unreservedly to the Alcalde. But his 
 mind ceased not to revolve the implications in Don Mario's 
 words relative to the girl; and when the midday siesta came 
 upon him his brow was knotted and his eyes gazed vacantly 
 at the manifestations of activity about him. 
 
 Hurrying across the road to escape the scalding heat, Jose's 
 ears again caught the sound of singing, issuing evidently from 
 Rosendo's house. It was very like the clear, sweet voice which 
 had floated into his room the morning after he awoke from 
 his delirium. He approached the door reverently and looked 
 in. Carmen was arranging the few poor dishes upon the rough 
 table, and as she worked, her soul flowed across her lips 
 in song. 
 
 The man listened astonished. The words and the simple 
 melody which carried them were evidently an improvisation. 
 But the voice — did that issue from a human throat? Yes, for 
 in distant Spain and far-off Rome, in great cathedrals and con- 
 cert halls, he had sometimes listened entranced to voices like 
 this — stronger, and delicately trained, but reared upon even less 
 of primitive talent. 
 
 The girl caught sight of him; and the song died on the warm 
 air. , 
 
 The priest strode toward her and clasped her in his arms. 
 "Carmen, child! Who taught you to sing like that?" 
 
 The girl smiled up in his face. "God, Padre." 
 
 Of course! He should have known. And in future he need 
 never ask. 
 
 "And I suppose He tells you when to sing, too, as He does 
 Cantar-las-horas?" said Jos6, smiling in amusement. 
 
 "No, Padre," was the unaffected answer. "He just sings 
 Himself in me." 
 
 The man felt rebuked for his light remark; and a lump rose 
 
 32 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 in his throat. He looked again into her fair face with a deep 
 yearning. 
 
 Oh, ye of little faith! Did you but know — could you but 
 realize^ — that the kingdom of heaven is within you, would not 
 celestial melody flow from your lips, too? 
 
 Throughout the afternoon, while he labored with his will- 
 ing helpers in the church building and his homely cottage, the 
 child's song lingered in his brain, like the memory of a sweet 
 perfume. His eyes followed her lithe, graceful form as she flitted 
 about, and his mind was busy devising pretexts for keeping 
 her near him. At times she would steal up close to him and 
 put her little hand lovingly and confidingly into his own. Then 
 as he looked down into her upturned face, wreathed with smiles 
 of happiness, his breath would catch, and he would turn hur- 
 riedly away, that she might not see the tears which suffused 
 his eyes. 
 
 When night crept down, unheralded, from the Sierras, the 
 priest's house stood ready for its occupant. Canta^-las-horas 
 had dedicated it by singing the Angelus at the front door, for the 
 hour of six had overtaken him as he stood, with cocked head, 
 peering curiously within. The dwelling, though pitifully bare, 
 was nevertheless as clean as these humble folk with the primi- 
 tive means at their command could render it. Instead of the 
 customary hard macana palm strips for the bed, Rosendo had 
 thoughtfully substituted a large piece of tough white canvas, 
 fastened to a rectangular frame, which rested on posts well 
 above the damp floor. On this lay a white sheet and a light 
 blanket of red flannel. Rosendo had insisted that, for the 
 present, Jos6 should take his meals with him. The priest's 
 domestic arrangements, therefore, would be simple in the ex- 
 treme; and Doiia Maria quietly announced that these were in 
 her charge. The church edifice would not be in order for some 
 days yet, perhaps a week. But of this Jose was secretly glad, 
 for he regarded with dread the necessity of discharging the 
 priestly functions. And yet, upon that hinged his stay in Simiti. 
 
 "Simiti has two churches, you know. Padre," remarked 
 Rosendo during the evening meal. "There is another old one 
 near the eastern edge of town. If you wish, we can visit it 
 while there is yet light." 
 
 Jose expressed his pleasure; and a few minutes later the 
 two men, with Carmen dancing along happily beside them, were 
 climbing the shaly eminence upon the summit of which stood 
 the second church. On the way they passed the town ceme- 
 tery. 
 
 "The Spanish cemetery never grows," commented Jose, 
 stopping at the crumbling gateway and peering in. The place 
 
 33 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 of sepulture was the epitome of utter desolation. A tumbled 
 brick wall surrounded it, and there were a few broken brick 
 vaults, in some of which whitening bones were visible. In a 
 far corner was a heap of human bones and bits of decayed 
 coffins. 
 
 "Their rent fell due. Padre," said Rosendo with a little 
 laugh, indicating the bones. "The Church rents this ground to 
 the people — it is consecrated, you know. And if the payments 
 are not made, why, the bones come up and are thrown over 
 there." 
 
 "Humph!" grunted Jose. "Worse than heathenish!" 
 
 "But you see. Padre, the Church is only concerned with 
 souls. And it is better to pay the money to get souls out of 
 purgatory than to rent a bit of ground for the body, is it not?" 
 
 Jose wisely vouchsafed no answer. 
 
 "Come, Padre," continued Rosendo. "I would not want to 
 have to spend the night here. For, you know, if a man spends 
 a night in a cemetery an evil spirit settles upon him-^isit 
 not so?" 
 
 Jose still kept silence before the old man's inbred supersti- 
 tion. A few minutes later they stood before the old church. 
 It was in the Spanish mission style, but smaller than the one 
 in the central plaza. 
 
 "This was built in the time of your great-grandfather. Padre, 
 the father of Don Ignacio," offered Rosendo. "The Rinc6n 
 family had many powerful enemies throughout the country, 
 and those in Simiti even carried their ill feeling so far as to 
 refuse to hear Mass in the church which your family built. So 
 they erected this one. No one ever enters it now. Strange 
 noises are sometimes heard inside, and the people are afraid to 
 go in. You see there are no houses built near it. They say an 
 angel of the devil lives here and thrashes around at times in 
 terrible anger. There is a story that many years ago, when I 
 was but a baby, the devil's angel came and entered this church 
 one dark night, when there was a terrible storm and the waves 
 of the lake were so strong that they tossed the crocodiles far" 
 up on the shore. And when the bad angel saw the candles 
 burning on the altar before the sacred wafer he roared in anger 
 and blew them out. But there was a beautiful painting of the 
 Virgin on the wall, and when the lights went out she came down 
 out of her picture and lighted the candles again. But the devil's 
 angel blew them out once more. And then, they say, the Holy 
 Virgin left the church in darkness and went out and locked 
 the wicked angel in, where he has been ever since. That was 
 to show her displeasure against the enemies of the great Rin- 
 c6ns for erecting this church. The Cura died suddenly that 
 
 34 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 night; and the church has never been used since The Virgin, 
 you know, is the special guardian Saint of the Rinc6n family." 
 
 "But you do not believe the story, Rosendo?" Jose asked. 
 
 "Quien sabe?" was the noncommittal reply. 
 
 "Do you really think the Virgin could or would do such a 
 thing, Rosendo?" 
 
 "Why not, Padre? She has the same power as God, has she 
 not? The frame which held her picture" — reverting again to 
 the story — "was found out in front of the church the next 
 morning; but the picture itself was gone." 
 
 Jose glanced down at Carmen, who had been listening with 
 a tense, rapt expression on her face. What impression did this 
 strange story make upon her? She looked up at the priest with 
 a little laugh. 
 
 "Let us go in. Padre," she said. 
 
 "No!" commanded Rosendo, seizing her hand. 
 
 "Are you afraid, Rosendo?" queried the amused Jose. 
 
 "I — I would — rather not," the old man replied hesitatingly. 
 "The Virgin has sealed it." Physical danger was tempera- 
 mental to this noble son of the jungle; yet the religious super- 
 stition which Spain had bequeathed to this oppressed land still 
 shackled his limbs. 
 
 As they descended the hill Carmen seized an opportunity 
 to speak to Jose alone. "Some day. Padre," she whispered, 
 "you and I will open the door and let the bad angel out, won't 
 we?" 
 
 Jose pressed her little hand. He knew that the door of his 
 own mind had swung wide at her bidding in these few days, 
 and many a bad angel had gone out forever. 
 
 CHAPTER 6 
 
 THE dawn of a new day broke white and glistering upon 
 the ancient pueblo. From their hard beds of palm, and 
 their straw mats on the dirt floors, the provincial dwellers 
 in this abandoned treasure house of Old Spain rose already 
 dressed to resume the monotonous routine of their lowly life. 
 The duties which confronted them were few, scarce extending 
 beyond the procurement of their simple food. And for all, 
 excepting the two or three families which constituted the 
 shabby aristocracy of Siraiti, this was limited in the extreme. 
 Indian corn, panela, and coffee, with an occasional addition of 
 platanos or rice, and now and then bits of bagre, the coarse fish 
 yielded by the adjacent lake, constituted the staple diet of the 
 
 35 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 average citizen of this decayed hamlet. A few might purchase 
 a bit of lard at rare intervals; and this they hoarded like 
 precious jewels. Some occasionally had wheat flour; but the 
 long, difficult transportation, and its rapid deterioration in that 
 hot, moist climate, where swarms of voracious insects burrow 
 into everything not cased in tin or iron, made its cost all but 
 prohibitive. A few had goats and chickens. Some possessed 
 pigs. And the latter even exceeded in value the black, naked 
 babes that played in the hot dust of the streets with them, 
 
 Jose was up at dawn. Standing in the warm, unadulterated 
 sunlight in his doorway he watched the village awaken. At a 
 door across the plaza a woman appeared, smoking a cigar, with 
 the lighted end in her mouth. Jose viewed with astonishment 
 this curious custom which prevails in the Tierra Caliente. He 
 had observed that in Simiti nearly everybody of both sexes was 
 addicted to the use of tobacco, and it was no uncommon sight 
 to see children of tender age smoking heavy, black cigars with 
 keen enjoyment. From another door issued two fishermen, 
 who, seeing the priest, approached and asked his blessing on 
 their day's work. Some moments later he heard a loud tattoo, 
 and soon the Alcalde of the village appeared, marching pomp- 
 ously through the streets, preceded by his tall, black secretary, 
 who was beating lustily upon a small drum. At each street 
 intersection the little procession halted, while the Alcalde with 
 great impressiveness sonorously read a proclamation just re- 
 ceived from the central Government at Bogota to the effect that 
 thereafter no cattle might be killed in the country without the 
 payment of a tax as therein set forth. Groups of peones gath- 
 ered slowly about the few little stores in the main street, or 
 entered and inspected for . the thousandth time the shabby 
 stocks. Matrons with black, shining faces cheerily greeted 
 one another from their doorways. Everywhere prevailed a 
 gentle decorum of speech and manners. For, however lowly 
 the station, however pinched the environment, the dwellers in 
 this ancient town were ever gentle, courteous and dignified. 
 Their conversation dealt with the simple affairs of their quiet 
 life. They knew nothing of the complex problems, social, eco- 
 nomic, or religious, which harassed their brethren of the North. 
 No dubious aspirations or ambitions stirred their breasts. 
 Nothing of the frenzied greed and lust of material accumula- 
 tion touched their child-like minds. They dwelt upon a plane 
 far, far removed, in whatever direction, from the mental state 
 of their educated and civilized brothers of the great States, 
 who from time to time undertake to advise them how to live, 
 while ruthlessly exploiting them for material gain. And thus 
 they have been exploited ever since the heavy hand of the, 
 
 36 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Spaniard was laid upon them, four centuries ago. Thus they 
 will continue to be, until that distant day wfien mankind shall 
 have learned to find their own in another's good. 
 
 As his eyes swept his environment, the untutored folk, the 
 old church, the dismally decrepit mud houses, with an air of 
 desolation and utter abandon brooding over all; and as he re- 
 flected that his own complex nature, rather than any special 
 malice of fortune, had brought this to him, Jose's heart began 
 to sink under the sting of a condemning conscience. He turned 
 back into his house. Its pitiful emptiness smote him sore. No 
 books, no pictures, no furnishings, nothing that ministers to 
 the comfort of a civilized and educated man! And yet, amid 
 this barrenness he had resolved to live. 
 
 A song drifted to him through the pulsing heat of the morn- 
 ing air. It sifted through the mud walls of his poor dwelling, 
 and poured into the open doorway, where it hovered, quivering, 
 like the dust motes in the sunbeams. Instantly the man righted 
 himself. It was Carmen, the child to whom his life now be- 
 longed. Resolutely he again set his wandering mind toward 
 the great thing he would accomplish — the protection and train- 
 ing of this girl, even while, if might be, he found his life again 
 in hers. Nothing on earth should shake him from that pur- 
 pose! Doubt and uncertainty were powerless to. dull the edge 
 of his efforts. His bridges were burned behind him; and on 
 the other side of the great gulf lay the dead self which he had 
 abandoned forever. 
 
 A harsh medley of loud, angry growls, interspersed with 
 shrill yelps, suddenly arose before his house, and Jose hastened 
 to the door just in time to' see Carmen rush into the street and 
 fearlessly throw herself upon two fighting dogs. 
 
 "Cucumbra! Stop it instantly!" she exclaimed, dragging 
 the angry brute from a thoroughly frightened puppy. 
 
 "Shame! shame! And after all I've talked to you about 
 loving that puppy!" 
 
 The gaunt animal slunk down, with its tail between its 
 legs. 
 
 "Did you ever gain anything at all by fighting? You know 
 you never did ! And right down in your heart you know you 
 love that puppy. You've got to love him; you can't help it! 
 And you might as well begin right now." 
 
 The beast whimpered at her little barcifeet. 
 
 "Cucumbra, you let bad thoughts use you, didn't you? Yes, 
 you did; and you're sorry for it now. Well, there's the puppy," 
 pointing to the little dog, which stood hesitant some yards 
 away. "Now go and play with him," she urged. "Play with 
 him!" rousing the larger dog and pointing toward the puppy. 
 "Play with him! You know you love him!" 
 
 37 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Cucumbra hesitated, looking alternately at the small, reso- 
 lute girl and the smaller dog. Her arm remained rigidly ex- 
 tended, and determination was written large in her set features. 
 The puppy uttered a sharp bark, as if in forgiveness, and 
 began to scamper playfully about. Cucumbra threw a final 
 glance at the girl. 
 
 "Play with him!" she again commanded. 
 
 The large dog bounded after the puppy, and together they 
 disappeared around the street corner. , 
 
 The child turned and saw Jose, who had regarded the scene 
 in mute astonishment. 
 
 "May buenos dias, Senor Padre," dropping a little courtesy. 
 "But isn't Cucumbra foolish to have bad thoughts?" 
 
 "Why, yes — he certainly is," replied Jose slowly, hard 
 pressed by the unusual question. 
 
 "He has just got to love that puppy, or else he will never 
 be happy,' will he, Padre?" 
 
 Why would this girl persist in ending her statements with 
 an interrogation! How could he know Avhether Cucumbra's 
 happiness would be imperfect if he failed in love toward the 
 puppy? ^ 
 
 "Because, you know. Padre," the child continued, coming 
 up to him and slipping her hand into his, "padre Rosendo once 
 told me that- God was Love; and after that I knew we just had 
 to love everything and everybody, or else He can't see us — can 
 He, Padre?" 
 
 He can't see us^ — if we don't love everything and everybody ! 
 Well! Jose wondered what sort of interpretation the Vatican> 
 with its fiery hatred of heretics, would put upon this remark. 
 
 "Can He. Padre?" insisted the girl. 
 
 "Dear child, in these matters you are teaching me; not I 
 you," replied the noncommittal priest. 
 
 "But, Padre, you are going to teach the people in the 
 church," the girl ventured quizzically. 
 
 Ah, so he was ! And he had wondered what. In his hour of 
 need the answer was vouchsafed him. 
 
 "Yes, dearest child — and I am going to teach them what I 
 learn from you." 
 
 Carmen regarded him for a moment uncertainly. "But, 
 padre Rosendo says you are to teach me," she averred. 
 
 "And so I am, little one," the priest replied; "but not one 
 half as much as I shall learn from you." 
 
 Dona Maria's summons to breakfast interrupted the con- 
 versation. Throughout the repast Jose felt himself subjected 
 to the closest scrutiny by Carmen. What was running through 
 her thought, he could only vaguely surmise. But he instinc- 
 
 38 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 tively felt that he was being weighed and appraised by this 
 strange child, and that she was finding him wanting in her 
 estimate of what manner of man a priest of God ought to be. 
 And yet he knew that she embraced hira' in her great love. 
 Oftentimes his quick glance at her would find her serious 
 gaze bent upon him. But whenever their eyes met, her sweet 
 face would instantly relax and glow with a smile of tenderest 
 love — a love which, he felt, was somehow, inr some way, des- 
 tined to reconstruct his shattered life. 
 
 Jose's plans for educating the girl had gradually evolved 
 into completion during the past two days. He explained them 
 at length to Rosendo after the morning meal; and the latter, 
 with dilating eyes, manifested his great joy by clasping the 
 priest in his brawny arms. 
 
 "But remember, Rosendo," Jose said, "learning is not know- 
 ing. I can only teach her book-knowledge. But even now, an 
 untutored child, she knows more that is real than I do." 
 
 "Ah, Padre, have I not told you many times that she is not 
 like us? And now you know it!" exclaimed the emotional 
 Rosendo, his eyes suffused with tears of joy as he beheld his 
 cherished ideals and his longing of years at last at the point of 
 realization. What he, too, had instinctively seen in the child 
 was now to be summoned forth; and the vague, half-under- 
 stood motive which had impelled him to take the abandoned 
 babe from Badillo into the shelter of his own great heart would 
 at length be revealed. The man's joy was ecstatic. With a 
 final clasp of the priest's hand, he rushed from the house to 
 plunge into the work in progress at the church. 
 
 Jose summoned Carmen into the quiet of his own dwelling. 
 She came joyfully, bringing an ancient and obsolete arithmetic 
 and a much tattered book, which Jose discovered to be a chron- 
 icle of the heroic deeds of the early Conquistadores. 
 
 "I'm through decimals!" she exclaimed with glistening 
 eyes; "and I've read some of this, but I don't like it," making 
 a little moue of disgust and holding aloft the battered history. 
 
 "Padre Rosendo told me to show it to you," she continued. 
 "But it is all about murder, you know. And yet," with a little 
 sigh, "he has nothing else to read, excepting old newspapers 
 which the steamers sometimes leave at Bodegk Central. And 
 they are all about murder, and stealing, and bad things, too. 
 Padre, why don't people write about good things?" 
 
 Jose gazed at her reverently, as of old the Sculptor Phidias 
 might have stood in awe before the vision which he saw in the 
 unchiseled marble. 
 
 "Padre Rosendo helped me with the fractions," went on the 
 girl, flitting lightly to another .topic ; "but I had to learn the 
 
 39 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 decimals myself. He couldn't understand them. And they are 
 so easy, aren't they? I just love arithmetic!" hugging the old 
 book to her little bosom. 
 
 Both volumes, printed in Madrid, were reliques of Spanish 
 colonial days. 
 
 "Read to me. Carmen," said Jose, handing her the history. 
 
 The child took the book and began to read, with clear enun- 
 ciation, the narrative of Quesada's sanguinary expedition to 
 Bogota, undertaken in the name of the gentle Christ. Jos6 
 wondered as he listened what interpretation this fresh young 
 mind would put upon the motives of that renowned exploit. 
 Suddenly she snapped the book shut. 
 
 "Tell me about Jesus," she demanded. 
 
 The precipitation with which the question had been pro- 
 pounded almost took his breath away. He raised his eyes to 
 hers, and looked long and wonderingly into their infinite 
 depths. And then the vastness of the problem enunciated by 
 her demand loomed before him. What, after all, did he know 
 about Jesus? Had he not arrived in Simiti in a state of agnds- 
 ticism regarding religion? Had he not come there enveloped 
 in confusion, baffled, beaten, hopeless? And then, after his 
 wonderful talk with Rosendo, had he not agreed with him that 
 the child's thought must be kept free and open — that her own 
 instinctive religious ideas must be allowed to develop normally, 
 unhampered and unfettered by the external warp and bias of 
 human speculation? It was part of his plan that all reference 
 to matters theological should be omitted from Carmen's educa- 
 tional scheme. Yet here was that name on her lips — ^the first 
 time he had ever heard it .voiced by her. And it smote him like 
 a hammer. He made haste to divert further inquiry. 
 
 "Not now, little one," he said hastily. "I want to hear you 
 read more from your book." 
 
 "No," she replied firmly, laying the volume upon the table. 
 "I don't like it; and I shouldn't think you would, either. Be- 
 sides, it isn't true; it never really happened." 
 
 "Why, of course it is true, child ! - It is history, the story of 
 how the brave Spaniards came into this country long ago. We 
 will read a great deal more about them later." 
 
 "No," with a decisive shake of her brown head ; "not if it is 
 like this. It isn't true; I told padre Rosendo it wasn't." 
 
 "Well, what do you mean, child?" asked the uncomprehend- 
 ing priest. 
 
 "It is only a lot of bad thoughts printed in a book," she 
 replied slowly. "And it isn't true, because God is everywhere." 
 
 Clearly the man was encountering difficulties at the outset; 
 and ,a part, at least, of his well-ordered curriculum stood in 
 
 40 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 grave danger of repudiation at the hands of this earnest little 
 maid. 
 
 The girl stood looking at him wistfully. Then her sober 
 little face melted in smiles. With childish impulsiveness she 
 clambered into fiis lap, and twining her arms about his neck, 
 impressed a kiss upon his cheek. 
 
 "I love you, Padre," she murmured; "and you love me, 
 don't you?" 
 
 He pressed her to him, startled though he was. "God knows 
 I do, little one!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "Of course He does," she eagerly agreed; "and He knows 
 you don,'t want to teach me anything that isn't true, doesn't 
 He, Padre dear?" 
 
 Yea, and more ; for Josd was realizing now, what he had not 
 seen before, that it was beyond his power to teach her that 
 which was not true. The magnitude and sacredness of his task 
 impressed him as never before. His puzzled brain grappled 
 feebly with the enormous problem. She had rebuked him for 
 trying to teach her things which, if he accepted the immanence 
 of God as fact, her logic had shown him were utterly false. 
 Clearly the grooves in which this child's pure thought ran 
 were not his own. And if she would not think as he did, what 
 recourse was there left him but to accept the alternative and 
 think with her? For he would not, even if he could, force upon 
 her his own thought-processes. 
 
 "Then, Carmen," he finally ventured, "you do not wish to 
 learn about people and what they have done and are doing in 
 the big world about you?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. Padre; tell me all about the good things they did!" 
 
 "But they did many wicked things too, chiquita. And the 
 good and the bad are all mixed up together." 
 
 "No," she shook her head vigorously; "there isn't any bad. 
 There is only good, for God is everywhere — isn't He?" 
 
 She raised up. and looked squarely into the priest's eyes. 
 Dissimulation, hypocrisy, quibble, cant — nothing but fearless 
 truth could meet that gaze. 
 
 Suddenly a light broke in upon his clouded thought. This 
 girl — this tender plant of God — why, she had shown it from the 
 very beginning! And he, oh, blind that he was! he could not 
 see nor accept it. The secret of her power, of her ecstasy of 
 life — what was it but this?— s/ie knew no evil! 
 
 And the Lord God commanded the man, saying, "Of every 
 tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat: but of the tree of 
 the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it : for in 
 the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die." 
 
 Oh, great God! It was the first — ^the very first — lesson 
 
 13 41 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 which Thou didst teach Thy child, Israel, as the curtain rose 
 upon the drama of human life! And the awful warning has 
 rung down through the corridors of time from the mouths of 
 the prophets, whom we slew lest they wake us from our mes- 
 meric sleep! Israel forgot Thy words; and the world has for- 
 gotten them, long, long since. Daily we mix our perfumed 
 draft of good and evil, and sink under its lethal influence! 
 Hourly we eat of the forbidden tree, till, the pangs of death en- 
 compass us! 
 
 And when at last the dark angel hovered over the sin- 
 stricken earth and claimed it for his own, the great Master 
 came to sound again the warning — "As a man thinketh in his 
 heart, so is he!" But they would have none of him, and nailed 
 him to a tree ! 
 
 Oh, Jerusalem! Oh, ye incarnate human mind! Eveh the 
 unique Son of God wept as he looked with yearning upon you ! 
 Why? Because of your stubborn clinging to false ways, false 
 beliefs, false thoughts of God and man! Because ye would not 
 be healed; ye would not be made whole ! Ye loved evil — ^ye gave 
 it life and power, and ye rolled it like a sweet morsel beneath 
 your tongue — and so ye died! So came death into this fair 
 world, through the heart, the brain, the mind of man, who 
 sought to know what God could not! 
 
 "Padre dear, you are so quiet." The girl nestled closer to 
 the awed priest. Aye ! And so the multitude on Sinai had stood 
 in awed quiet as they listened to the voice of God. 
 
 This child knew no evil ! The man could not grasp the in- 
 finite import of the marvelous fact. And yet he had sought to 
 teach her falsities — to teach her that evil did exist, as real and 
 as potent as good, and that it was to be accepted and honored 
 by mankind! But she had turned her back upon the tempta- 
 tion. 
 
 "Padre, are you going to tell me about Jesus?" 
 
 The priest roused from his deep meditation. 
 
 "Yes, yes — I want to know nothing else ! I will get my Bible, 
 and we will read about him!" 
 
 "Bible? What is that. Padre dear?'-* 
 
 "What! You don't know what the Bible is?" cried the as- 
 tonished priest. 
 
 "No, Padre." 
 
 "But have you never — has your padre Rosendo never told 
 you that it is the book that tells — ?" 
 
 "No," the girl shook her head. "But," her face kindling, 
 "he told me that Jesus was God's only son. But we are all His 
 children, aren't we?" 
 
 "Yes — especially you, little one! But Jesus was the great- 
 est—" 
 
 42 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Did Jesus write the Bible, Padre?" the girl asked earnestly. 
 
 "No — we don't know who did. People used to think God 
 wrote it; but I guess He didn't." 
 
 "Then we will not read it. Padre." 
 
 The man bent reverently over the little brown head and 
 prayed again for guidance. What could he do with this child, 
 who dwelt with Jehovah — who. saw His reflection in every flow- 
 er and hill and fleecy cloud — who heard His voice in the sough 
 of the wind, and the ripple of the waters on the pebbly shore! 
 And, oh, that some one had bent over him and prayed for 
 guidance when he was a tender lad and his heart burned with 
 yearning for truth ! 
 
 "God wrote the arithmetic — I mean. He told people how to 
 write it, didn't He, Padre?" 
 
 Surely the priest could acquiesce in this, for mathematics 
 is purely metaphysical, and without guile. 
 
 "Yes, chiquita. And we will go right through this little 
 book. Then, if I can, I will send for others that will teach you 
 wonderful things about what we call mathematics." 
 
 The child smiled her approval. The priest had now found 
 the only path which she would tread with him, and he con- 
 tinued with enthusiasm. 
 
 "And God taught people how tt) talk, little one; but they 
 don't all talk as we do. There is a great land up north of us, 
 which we call the United States, and there the people would not 
 understand us, for we speak Spanish. I must teach you their 
 language, chiquita, and I must teach you others, too, for you 
 will not always live in Simiti." 
 
 "I want to stay here always. Padre. I love Simiti." 
 
 "No, Carmen; God has work for you out in His big world. 
 You have something to tell His people some day, a message for 
 them. But you and I have much work to do here first. And so 
 •we will begin with the arithmetic and English. Later we will 
 study other languages, and we will talk them to each other 
 until you speak them as fluently as your own. And meanwhile, 
 I will tell you about the great countries of the world, and about 
 the people that live in them. And we will study about the 
 stars, and the rocks, and the animals; and we will read and 
 work and read and work all day long, every day!" The priest's 
 face was aglow with animation. 
 
 "But, Padre, when shall I have time to think?" 
 
 "Why, you will be thinking all the time, child!" 
 
 "No, you don't understand. I have to think about other 
 things." 
 
 Jose looked at her with a puzzled expression. "What other 
 things do you have to think about, chiquita?" 
 
 43 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "About all the people here who are sick and unhappy, and 
 who quarrel and don't love one another." 
 
 "Do you think about people when they are sick?" he asked 
 with heightened curiosity. 
 
 "Yes, always!" she replied vigorously "When they are sick 
 I go where nobody can find me and then just think that it isn't 
 so." 
 
 "Hombre!" the priest ejaculated, his astonishment soaring 
 Then— 
 
 "But when people are sick it is really so, isn't it, chiquita?" 
 
 "No!" emphatically. "It can't be — not if God is everywhere. 
 Does He make them sick?" The child drove the heart-search- 
 ing question straight into him. 
 
 "Why — no, I can't say that He does. And yet they some- 
 how get sick." 
 
 "Because they think bad things. Padre. Because they don't 
 think about God. They don't think He is here. And they don't 
 care about Him — they don't love Him. And so they get sick," 
 she explained succinctly. 
 
 Josd's mind reverted to what Rosendo had told him. When 
 he lay tossing in delirium Carmen had said that he would not 
 die. And yet that was perfectly logical, if she refused to admit 
 the existence of evil. 
 
 "I thought lots about you last vfeek. Padre." 
 
 The soft voice was close to his ear, and every breath swept 
 over his heartstrings and made them vibrate. 
 
 "Every night when I went to sleep I told God I knew He 
 would cure you." 
 
 The priest's head sank upon his breast. 
 
 Verily, I have not seen such faith, no, not in Israel! And 
 the faith of this child had glorified her vision until she saw 
 "the heavens open and the angels of God ascending and de- 
 scending upon the Son of Man." 
 
 "Carmen" — the priest spoke reverently — "do the sick ones 
 always get well when you think about them?" 
 
 There was not a shade of euphemism in the unhesitating 
 reply — 
 
 "They are never really sick. Padre." 
 
 "But, by that you mean — " 
 
 "They only have bad thoughts." 
 
 "Sick thoughts, then?" he suggested by way of drawing out 
 her full meaning. 
 
 "Yes, Padre — for God, you know, really is everywhere." 
 
 "Carmen!" cried the man. "What put such ideas into your 
 little head? Who told you these things?" 
 
 Her brown eyes looked full into his own. "God, Padre 
 dear." 
 
 U 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 God! Yes, of a verity she spoke truth. For nothing but her 
 constant communion with Him could have filled her pure 
 thought with a deeper, truer lore than man has ever quaffed at 
 the world's great fountains of learning. He himself, trained 
 by Holy Church, deeply versed in letters, science, and theology, 
 grounded in all human learning, sat in humility at her feet, 
 drinking in what his heart told him he had at length found — 
 Truth. 
 
 He had one more question to ask. "Carmen, how do you 
 know, how are you sure, that He told you?" 
 
 "Because it is true, Padre." 
 
 "But just how do you know that it is true?" he insisted. 
 
 "Why — it comes out that way; just like the answers to 
 the problems in arithmetic. I used to try to see if by thinking 
 only good thoughts to-day I would be better and happier to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "Yes, and—?" 
 
 "Well, I always was. Padre. And so now I don't think any- 
 thing but good thoughts." 
 
 "That is, you think only about God?" 
 
 "I always think about Him first, Padre." 
 
 He had no further need to question her proofs, for he knew 
 she was taught by the Master himself. 
 
 "That will be all for this morning. Carmen," he said quietly, 
 as he put her down. "Leave me now. I, too, have some think- 
 ing to do." 
 
 When Carmen left him, Jose lapsed into profound medita- 
 tion. Musing over his life experiences, he at last summed them 
 all up in the vain attempt to evolve an acceptable concept of 
 God, an idea of Him that would satisfy. He had felt that in 
 Christianity he had hold of something beneficent, something 
 real; but he had never been able to formulate it, nor lift it above 
 the shadows into the clear light of full comprehension. And 
 the result of his futile efforts to this end had been agnosticism. 
 His inability conscientiously to accept the mad reasoning of 
 theologians and the impudent claims of Rome had been the 
 stumbling block to his own and his family's dearest earthly 
 hopes. He knew that popular Christianity was a disfigurement 
 of truth. He knew that the theological claptrap which the 
 Church, with such oracular assurance, such indubitable cer- 
 tainty and gross assumption of superhuman knowledge, handed 
 out to a suffering world, was a travesty of the. divinely simple 
 teachings of Jesus, and that it had estranged mankind from 
 their only visible source of salvation, the Bible. He saw more 
 clearly, than ever before that in the actual achievements of 
 popular theology there had been ridiculously little that a seri- 
 
 45 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ously-minded man could accept as supports to its claims to be 
 a divinely revealed scheme of salvation. Yet there was no vital 
 question on which certainty was so little demanded, and seem- 
 ingly of so little consequence, as this, even though the joints of 
 the theologians' armor flapped wide to the assaults of unprej- 
 udiced criticism. 
 
 But if the slate were swept clean — if current theological 
 dogma were overthrown, and the stage set anew — what could 
 be reared in their stead? Is it true that the Bible is based upon 
 propositions which can be verified by all? The explorer in Car- 
 tagena had given Jose a new thought in Arnold's concept of 
 God as "the Eternal, not ourselves, that makes for righteous- 
 -ness." And it was not to be denied that, from, first to last, the 
 Bible is a call to righteousness. 
 
 But what is righteousness? Ethical conduct? Assuredly 
 something vastly more profound, for even that "misses the 
 mark." No, righteousness was right conduct until the mar- 
 velous Jesus appeared. But he swept it at once from the mate- 
 rial into the mental; from the outward into the inward; and 
 defined it as right-thinking I 
 
 "Righteousness!" murmured Jose, sitting with head buried 
 in his hands. "Aye, the whole scheme of salvation is held in 
 that one word! And the wreck of my life has been caused by 
 my blind ignorance of its tremendous meaning ! For righteous- 
 ness is salvation. But Carmen, wise little soul, divined it in- 
 stinctively; for, if there is one thing that is patent, it is that if 
 a thing is evil it does not exist for her. Righteousness! Of 
 course it means thinking no evil! Jesus lived his thorough un- 
 derstanding of it. And so does Carmen. And so would the 
 world, but for the withering influence of priestly authority!" 
 
 At that moment Carmen reappeared to summon him to 
 lunch. 
 
 "Come here, little girl," said Jose, drawing her to him. "You 
 asked me to tell you about Jesus. He was the greatest and best 
 man that ever lived. And it was because he never had a bad 
 thought." 
 
 "Did he know that God was everywhere?" The little face 
 turned lovingly up to his. 
 
 "He did, sweet child. And so do I— now; for I have found 
 Him even in desolate Simiti." 
 
 46 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 7 
 
 CARMEN'S studies began in earnest that afternoon. In the 
 quiet of his humble cottage Jose, now "a prisoner of the 
 Lord," opened the door of his mental storehouse and care- 
 fully selected those first bits of knowledge for the foundation 
 stones on which to rear for her, little by little, a broad educa- 
 tion. 
 
 He found her a facile learner; her thorough ease in the rudi- 
 ments of arithmetic and in the handling of her own language 
 delighted him. His plan of tutelage, although the result of long 
 contemplation, and involving many radical ideas regai-ding the 
 training of children, ideas which had been slowly developing in 
 his mind for years, he nevertheless felt in her case to be tenta- 
 tive. For he was dealing with no ordinary child; and so the 
 usual methods of instruction were here wholly out of the 
 question. 
 
 But on several points he was already firmly resolved. First, 
 he would get well below the surface of this child's mind, and 
 he would endeavor to train her to live in a depth of thought 
 far, far beneath the froth and superficiality of the every-day 
 thinking of mankind. Fortunately, she had had no previous 
 bad training to be counteracted now. Nature had been her only 
 tutor; and Rosendo's canny wisdom had kept out all human 
 interference. Her associates in Simiti were few. Her unusual 
 and mature thought had set up an intellectual barrier between 
 herself and the playmates she might have had. Fortunately, 
 too, Jose had now to deal with a child who all her life had 
 thought vigorously — and, he was forced to conclude, correctly. 
 Habits of accurate observation and quick and correct interpre- 
 tation would not be difficult to form in such a mind. More- 
 over, to this end he would aim to maintain her interest at the 
 point of intensity in every subject undertaken; yet without 
 forcing, and without sacrifice .of the joys of childhood. He 
 would be, not teacher only, but fellow-student. He would strive 
 to learn with her to conceive the ideal without losing sight of 
 the fact that it was a human world in which they dwelt. When 
 she wished to play, he would play with her. But he would 
 contrive and direct their amusements so as to carry instruction, 
 to elucidate and exemplify it, to point morals, and steadily to 
 contribute to her store of knowledge. His plan was ideal, he 
 knew. But he could not know then that Nature — if we may 
 thus call it — had anticipated him, and that the child, long since 
 started upon the quest for truth, would quickly outstrip him 
 
 47 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 in the matter of conceiving the ideal and living in this world of 
 relative fact with an eye single to the truth which shines so 
 dimly through it. 
 
 Jose knew, as he studied Carmen and planned her training, 
 that whatever instruction he offered her must be without taint 
 of evil, so far as he might prevent. And yet, the thought of any 
 attempt to withhold from her a knowledge of evil brought a 
 sardonic smile to his lips. She had as yet everything to learn 
 of the world about her. Could such learning be imparted to 
 her free from error or hypothesis, and apart from the fiat of 
 the speculative human mind? It must be; for he knew from 
 experience that she would accept his teaching only as he pre- 
 sented every apparent fact, every object, every event, as a re- 
 flection in some degree of her immanent God, and subject to 
 rigid demonstration. Whei-e historical events externalized only 
 the evil motives of the carnal mind, he must contrive to omit 
 them entirely, or else present them as unreality, the result of 
 "bad thoughts" and forgetfulness of God. In other wotds, only 
 as he assumed to be the channel through which God spoke to 
 her could he hope for success. To impart to her a knowledge 
 of both good and evil was, at least at present, impossible. To 
 force it upon her later would be criminal. Moreover, why not 
 try the audacious experiment of permitting and aiding this 
 child to grow up without a knowledge of evil? — that is, in her 
 present conviction that only good is real, potent and permanent, 
 while evil is impotent illusion and to be met and overcome on 
 that basis. Would the resultant training make of her a tower 
 of strength — or would it render her incapable of resisting the 
 onslaughts of evil when at length she faced the world? His own 
 heart sanctioned the plan; and — ^well, the final judgment should 
 be left to Carmen herself. 
 
 The work proceeded joyously. At times Cucumbra inter- 
 rupted by bounding in, as if impatient of the attention his little 
 mistress was giving her tutor. Frequently the inquisitive Cantar- 
 las-horas stalked through the room, displaying a most dignified 
 and laudable interest in the proceedings. Late in the afternoon, 
 when the sun was low, Rosendo appeared at the door. As he 
 stood listening to Jos6's narrative of men and places in the out- 
 side world, his eyes bulged. At length his untutored mind be- 
 came strained to its elastic limit. 
 
 "Is that true, Padre?" he could not refrain from interrupt- 
 ing, when Jose had spoken of the fast trains of England. "Why, 
 the Simiti trail to Tachi is one hundred and fifty miles long; 
 and it always took me six days to walk it. And do you say 
 there are trains that travel that distance in as many hours?" 
 
 "There are trains, Rosendo, that traverse the distance in 
 three hours." 
 
 48 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Na, Padre, it can't be done!" cried the incredulous Rosendo, 
 shaking his head. 
 
 "Leave us, unbeliever!" laughed Jos6, motioning him away. 
 "I have more pliable material here to handle than you." 
 
 But Rosendo remaine,d; and it was evident to the priest 
 that he had come on an errand of importance. Moreover, the 
 supper hour was at hand, and perhaps Dona Maria needed 
 Carmen's help. So, dismissing the child. Jos6 turned to Ro- 
 sendo. 
 
 "You were right," he began, as if taking up. the thread of a 
 broken discourse. "Carmen was left on the river bank by the 
 angels." 
 
 "Then you do think it was a miracle!" said Rosendo in a 
 voice of awe, as he sank into a chair. 
 
 The priest smiled. "Everything is a miracle, friend; for a 
 miracle is simply a sign of God's presence. And fmding Car- 
 men in this musty, forgotten place is one of the greatest. For 
 where she is. He is." 
 
 "Yes, Padre, that is true," assented Rosendo gravely. 
 
 "I was led here," continued Jose; "I see it now. Rosendo, 
 all my life I have regarded evil as just as real and powerful as 
 good. And my life has been one of bitterness and woe. Carmen 
 sees only the good God everywhere. And she dwells in heaven. 
 What is the logical inference? Simply that my mental attitude 
 has been all wrong, my views erroneous, my thinking bad. I 
 have tried to know both good and evil, to eat of the forbidden 
 tree. And for so doing I was banished from paradise. Do you 
 understand me?" 
 
 "Why — ^well, no. Padre — that is, I — " The honest fellow was 
 becoming confused. 
 
 "Well, just this, then," explained the priest with animation. 
 "I haven't gotten anywhere in life, and neither have you, be- 
 cause we have limited ourselves and crippled our efforts by 
 jdelding to fear, pride, ignorance, and the belief in evil as a real 
 power opposed to good." 
 
 "I have often wondered myself. Padre, how there could be 
 a devil if God is almighty. For in that case He would have had 
 to make the devil, wouldn't He?" 
 
 "Just so!" cried Jos6 enthusiastically. "And as He did 
 make everything, then either He made the devil, or else there 
 isn't any." 
 
 "But that is pretty hard to see. Padre," replied the puzzled 
 Rosendo. "Something makes us do wicked things." 
 
 "Simply the belief that there is a power apart from God." 
 
 "But doesn't that belief come from the devil?" 
 
 "Surely — the devil of imagination! Listen, Rosendo: Car- 
 
 49 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 men is daily putting into practice her instinctive knowledge of 
 a miglity fact. She will reveal it all to us in due time. Let us 
 patiently watch her, and try to see and understand and believe 
 as she does. But in the meantime, let us guard our minds as we 
 would a treasure house, and strive never to let a thought of 
 evil get inside ! My past life should serve as a perpetual warn- 
 ing." 
 
 Rosendo did not reply at once, but sat staring vacantly at 
 the ground. Jose knew that his thoughts were with his way- 
 ward daughter. Then, as if suddenly remembering the object 
 of his call, he took from his wallet two letters, which he handed 
 to Jose with the comment: "Juan brought them up from 
 Bodega Central this morning." 
 
 Jose took them with quickening pulse. One was from Spain, 
 from his uncle. He devoured it eagerly. It was six weeks old 
 when it arrived in Simiti, and had been written before the news 
 of his removal from Cartagena had reached Seville. His mother 
 was well; and her hopes for her son's preferment were steadily 
 reviving, after the cruel blow which his disgrace in Rome had 
 given them. For his uncle's part, he hoped that Jose had now 
 seen the futility of opposition to Holy Church, and that,- yield- 
 ing humbly to her gentle chastisement for the great injury he 
 had inflicted upon her, he would now make amends and merit 
 the favors which she was sure to bestow upon him in due sea- 
 son. To this end the uncle would bring to bear his own in- 
 fluence and that of His Eminence, the Archbishop of Seville. 
 The letter closed with an invocation to the Saints and the ever- 
 blessed Virgin. 
 
 Jose opened the second letter. It was nominally from the 
 Bishop of Cartagena, although written, he well knew, by Wen- 
 ceslas. His Reverence regretted that Jose had not come to him 
 again before leaving Cartagena. He deplored exceedingly the 
 necessity of assigning him to so lowly a parish; but it was 
 discipline. His tenure of the parish would be a matter of pro- 
 bation. Assuming a penitent desire on the part of the priest 
 to make reparation for past indiscretions, His Grace extended 
 assurances of his support and tender consideration. And, re- 
 garding him still as a faithful son, he was setting forth here- 
 with certain instructions which Jose would zealously carry out, 
 to the glory of the sacred Mother Church and the blessed Virgin, 
 and to his own edification, to wit : In the matter of the con- 
 fessional he must be unremittingly zealous, not failing to put 
 such questions to the people of Simiti as would draw out their 
 most secret thoughts. In the present crisis it was especially 
 necessary to learn their political views. Likewise, he must not 
 fail to impress upon them the sin of concealing wealth, and of 
 
 50 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ■withholding contributions to the support of the glorious Mother. 
 He, as priest of the parish, would be held personally responsible 
 for the collection of an adequate "Peter's Pence," which must 
 be sent to Cartagena at frequent intervals for subsequent ship- 
 ment to Rome. For all contributions he was to allow liberal 
 plenary indulgences. In the matter of inciting zeal for the sal- 
 vation of those unfortunate souls lingering in the torments of 
 purgatory, Jose must be unflagging. Each family in the parish 
 should be constantly admonished and threatened, if necessary, 
 to have Masses said for their deceased members; and he must 
 forward the proceeds from such Masses at once to Cartagena. 
 No less important, he must Jceep constantly before him the great 
 fact that the hope of the blessed Mother lay in her young. To 
 this end he must see that all children in his parish were in due 
 time confirmed, and every effort made to have the females sent 
 to the convent of Mompox. To encourage his parishioners, he 
 might assure them of His Reverence's tender regard for them 
 as his beloved children, and that he had certain special favors 
 to grant to them in due time. Also, that a statue of the Virgin, 
 which had arrived from Rome, and which carried the most 
 potent blessing of the Holy Father, was to be bestowed upon 
 that church in the diocese which within the next twelve months 
 should contribute the largest amount of Peter's Pence in pro- 
 portion to population. This plan should be especially attractive 
 to the people of Simiti^ as the town lay on the confines of a dis- 
 trict renowned in the ancient annals for its mineral wealth. 
 Herein, too, lay a great opportunity for the priest; and His 
 Reverence rejoiced in the certain knowledge that he would em- 
 brace it. Invoking the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Ever- 
 Blessed Virgin and Saint Joseph, His Grace awaited with interest 
 the priest's first report from the parish of Simiti. 
 
 "The letter fell like a wet blanket upon Jose, chilling him to 
 the marrow, for it revived with cruel poignancy the fact that he 
 was still a servant of Rome. In the past few happy days he 
 had dwelt apart from the world in the consciousness of a new 
 heaven and a new earth, revealed by Carmen. This sudden call 
 to duty was like a summons from Mephistopheles to the fulfill- 
 ment of a forgotten pact. 
 
 He carefully read the letter again. Beneath the specious 
 kindliness of Wenceslas lay sinister motives, he knew. Among 
 them, greed, of course. But — a darker thought — ^^did Wences- 
 las know of Carmen's existence? Could Cartagena have re- 
 ceived any intimation of his plans for her? Refusal to comply 
 with these instructions meant — he dared not think what! On 
 the other hand, strict compliance with them certainly was out 
 of the question. 
 
 51 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 As for Peter's Pence, what could the impoverished folk of 
 this decrepit town furnish! And yet, if a reasonable sum 
 could only be contributed at frequent intervals, would not the 
 vampire Wenceslas rest content, at least for a while? Oh, for 
 a fortune of his own, that he might dump it all into the yawn- 
 ing maw of Holy Church, and thus gain a few years' respite 
 for himself and Carmen ! 
 
 "Bad news. Padre?" Rosendo inquired, anxiously regarding 
 the priest's strained features. 
 
 What could the man do or say, limited, hounded, and with- 
 out resources? Could he force these simple people to buy 
 Masses? Could he take their money on a pretext which he felt 
 to be utterly false? Yet Cartagena must be kept quiet at any 
 hazard ! 
 
 "Rosendo," he asked earnestly, "when you had a priest in 
 Simiti, did the people have Masses offered for their dead?" 
 
 "Na, Padre, we have little money for Masses," replied Ro- 
 sendo sadly. 
 
 "But you -have bought them?" 
 
 "At times — long ago — for my first wife, when she died with- 
 out a priest, up in the Tigui country. But not when Padre 
 Diego was here. I couldn't see how Masses said by that drunken 
 priest could please God, or make Him release souls from purga- 
 tory — and Padre Diego was drunk most of the time." 
 
 Jos6 became desperate. "Rosendo, we must send money to 
 the Bishop in Cartagena. I must stay here — I must! And I 
 can stay only by satisfying Wenceslas! If I can send him 
 money he will think me too valuable to remove. It is not the 
 Church, Rosendo, but Wenceslas who is persecuting me. It is 
 he who has placed me here. He is using the Church for his 
 own evil ends. It is he who must be placated. But I — I can't 
 make these poor people buy Masses ! And — but here, read his 
 letter," thrusting it into Rosendo's hand. 
 
 Rosendo shook his head thoughtfully, and a cloud had 
 gathered over his strong face when he returned the Bishop's 
 letter to Jos6. 
 
 "Padre, we will be hard pressed to support the church and 
 you, without buying Masses. There are about two hundred 
 people here, perhaps fifty families. But they are very, very 
 poor. Only a few can afford to pay even a peso oro a month to 
 the schoolmaster to have their children taught. They may be 
 able to give twenty pesos a month to support you and the 
 church. But hardly more." 
 
 It seemed to Jose that his soul must burst under its limita- 
 tions. 
 
 "Rosendo, let us take Carmen and flee!" he cried wildly, 
 
 52 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "How far would we get. Padre? Have you money?" 
 
 No, Jose had nothing. He lapsed into silence-shrouded de- 
 spair. 
 
 The sun dropped below the wooded hills, and Cantar-las- 
 horas had sung his weird vesper song. Dusk was thickening 
 into night, though upon the distant Sierras a mellow glow still 
 illumined the frosted peaks. Moments crept slowly through 
 the enveloping silence. 
 
 Then the mental gloom parted, and through it arose the 
 great soul of the black-faced man sitting beside the despairing 
 priest. 
 
 "Padre" — Rosendo spoke slowly and with deep emotion. 
 Tears trickled down his swart cheeks — "I am no longer young. 
 More than sixty years of hardship and heavy toil rest upon me. 
 My parents — I have not told you this — were slaves. They 
 worked in the mines of Guamoc6, under hard masters. They 
 lived in bamboo huts, and slept on the damp ground. At four 
 each morning, year after year, they were driven from their 
 hard beds and sent out to toil under the lash fourteen hours a 
 day, washing gold from the streams. The gold went to the 
 building of Cartagena's walls, and to her Bishop, to buy idle- 
 ness and luxury for him and his fat priests. When the war 
 came it lasted thirteen years; but we drove the Christian Span- 
 iards into the sea! Then my father and mother went back to 
 Guamoco; and there I was born. When I was old enough to 
 use a batea I, too, washed gold in the Tigui, and in the little 
 streams so numerous in that region. But they had been pretty 
 well washed out under the Spaniards; and so my father came 
 down here and made a little hacienda on the hills across the 
 lake from Simiti. Then he and my poor mother lay down and 
 died, worn out with their long years of toil for their cruel mas- 
 ters." 
 
 He brushed the tears from his eyes; then resumed: "The 
 district of Guamoco gradually became deserted. Revolution 
 after revolution broke out in this unhappy country, sometimes 
 stirred up by the priests, sometimes by political agitators who 
 tried to get control of the Government. The men and Jboys 
 went to the wars, and were killed off. Guamoc6 was again 
 swallowed up by the forest — " 
 
 He stopped abruptly, and sat some moments silent. 
 
 "I have been back there many times since, and often I have 
 washed gold again along the beautiful Tigui," he continued. 
 "But the awful loneliness of the jungle, and the memories of 
 those gloomy days when I toiled there as a boy, and the thoughts 
 of my poor parents' sufferings under the Spaniards, made me 
 so sad that I could not stay. And then I got too old for that 
 
 53 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 kind of -work, standing bent over in the cold mountain water 
 all day long, swinging a batea heavy with gravel." 
 
 He paused again, and seemed to lose himself in the memory 
 of those dark days, 
 
 "But there is still gold in the Tigui. I can find it. It means 
 hard work — ^but I can do it. Padre, I will go back there and 
 wash out gold for you to send to the Bishop of Cartagena, that 
 you may stay here and protect and teach the little Carmen. 
 Perhaps in time I can wash enough to get you both out' of the 
 country; but it will take many months, it may be, years." 
 
 O, you, whose path in life winds among pleasant places, 
 where roses nod in the scented breeze and fountains play, pic- 
 ture to yourself, if you may, the self-immolation of this sweet- 
 souled man, who, in the winter of life, the shadows of eternity 
 fast gathering about him, bends his black shoulders again to 
 the burden which Love would lay upon them. Aye, Love, into 
 which all else merged — ^Love for the unknown babe, left help- 
 less and alone on the great river's bank — Love for the radiant 
 child, whose white soul the agents of carnal greed and lust 
 would prostitute to their iniquitous system. 
 
 Night fell. By the light of their single candle the priest and 
 Rosendo ate their simple fare in silence. Carmen was asleep, 
 and the angels watched over her lowly bed. 
 
 The meal ended, Rosendo took up the candle, and Jose 
 followed him into the bedroom. Reverently the two men ap- 
 proached the sleeping child and looked down upon her. The 
 priest's hand again sought Rosendo's in a grasp which sealed 
 anew the pact between them. 
 
 CHAPTER 8 
 
 rIKE the great Exemplar in the days of his preparation, Josi 
 ^ was early driven by the spirit into the wilderness, 
 where temptation smote him sore. But his soul had been 
 saved— '^yet so as by fire." Slowly old beliefs and faiths crum- 
 bled into dust, while the new remained still unrevealed. The 
 drift toward atheism which had set in during his long incar- 
 ceration in the convent of Palazzola had not made him yield to 
 the temptation to raise the mask of hypocrisy and plunge into 
 the pleasures of the world, nor accept the specious proffer of 
 ecclesiastical preferment in exchange for his honest convictions. 
 Honor, however bigoted the sense, bound him to his oath, or at 
 least to a compromising observance of it harmless to the 
 Church... Pride contributed to hold him from the degradation 
 
 54 
 
CARMEN ARTZA 
 
 of a renegade and apostate priest. And bothresled primarily 
 on an unshaken basis of maternal affection, which fell little 
 short of obsession, leaving him without the strength to say, 
 "Woman, what have I to do with thee?" 
 
 But, though atheism in belief leads almost inevitably to dis- 
 integration of morals, Jose had kept himself untainted. For 
 his vital problems he had now, after many days, found "grace 
 sufficient." In what he had regarded as the contemptible tricks 
 of fate, he was beginning to discern the guiding hand of a wis- 
 dom greater than the world's. The danger threatened by Car- 
 tagena was, temporarily, at least, averted by Rosendo's magnif- 
 icent spirit. Under the spur of that sacrifice his own courage 
 rose mightily to second it. 
 
 Rosendo spent the day in preparation for his journey into 
 the Guamoc6 country. He had discussed with Jos6, long and 
 earnestly, its probable effect upon the people of Simiti, and 
 especially upon Don Mario, the Alcalde ; but it was decided that 
 no further explanation should be made than that he was again 
 going to prospect in the mineral districts already so familiar to 
 him. As Rosendo had said, this venture, together with the unan- 
 nounced and unsolicited presence of the priest in the town, 
 could not but excite extreme curiosity and raise the most lively 
 conjectures, which might, in time, reach Wenceslas. On the 
 other hand, if success attended his efforts, it was more than 
 probable that Cartagena would remain quiet, as long as her 
 itching palm was brightened with the yellow metal which he 
 hoped to wrest from the sands of Guamoco. "It is only a 
 chance. Padre," Rosendo said dubiously. "In the days of the 
 Spaniards the river sands of Guamoco produced from two' to 
 ten reales a day to each slave. But the rivers have been almost 
 washed out," 
 
 Jos6 made a-quick mental calculation. A Spanish real was 
 equivalent to half a franc. Then ten reales would amount to 
 five francs, the very best he could hope for as a day's yield. 
 
 "And my supplies and the support of the senora and Carmen 
 must come out of that," Rosendo added. "Besides, I must pay 
 Juan for working the hacienda across the lake for me while I 
 am away." 
 
 Possibly ten pesos oro, or forty francs, might remain at the 
 end of each month for them to send to Cartagena. Jose sighed 
 heavily as he busied himself with the preparations. 
 
 "I got these supplies from Don Mario on credit. Padre," ex- 
 plained Rosendo. "I thought best to buy from him to prevent 
 making him angry. I have coffee, panela, rice, beans, and to- 
 bacco for a, month. He was very willing to let me have them— 
 but do you know why? He wants me to go up there and fail. 
 
 55 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Then he will have me in his debt, and I become his peon — and I 
 would never be anything after that but his slave, for never 
 again would he let me get out of debt to him." 
 
 Jose shuddered at the thought of the awful system of peon- 
 age prevalent in these Latin countries, an inhuman custom only 
 a degree removed from the slavery of colonial times. This 
 venture was, without doubt, a desperate risk. But it was for 
 Carmen — and its expediency could not be questioned. 
 
 Jose penned a letter to the Bishop of Cartagena that morn- 
 ing, and sent it by Juan to Bodega Central to await the next 
 down-river steamer. , He did not know that Juan carried an- 
 other letter for the Bishop, and addressed in the flowing hand 
 of the Alcalde. Jose briefly acknowledged the Bishop's com- 
 munication, and replied that he would labor unflaggingly to 
 uplift his people and further their spiritual development. As 
 to the Bishop's instructions, he would endeavor to make Simiti's 
 contribution to the support of Holy Church, both material and 
 spiritual, fully commensurate with the population. He did not 
 touch on the other instructions, but closed with fervent assur- 
 ances of his intention to serve his little flock with an undivided 
 heart. Carmen received no lesson that day, and her rapidly 
 flowing questions anent the unusual activity in the household 
 were met with the single explanation that her padre Rosendo 
 had found it necessary to go up to the Tigui river, a journey 
 which some day she might perhaps take with him. 
 
 During the afternoon Jose wrote two more letters, one to 
 his uncle, briefly announcing his appointment to the parish of 
 Simiti, and his already lively interest in his new field; the other 
 to his beloved mother, in which he only hinted at the new- 
 found hope which served as his pillow at night. He did not 
 mention Carmen, for fear that his letter might be opened ere it 
 left Cartagena. But in tenderest expressions of affection, and 
 regret that he had been the unwitting cause of his mother's sor- 
 row, he begged her to believe that his life had received a stimu- 
 lus which could not but result in great happiness for them 
 both, for he was convinced that he had at last found his metier, 
 even though among a lowly people and in a sequestered part of 
 the world. He hoped again to be reunited to her — possibly she 
 might some day meet him in Cartagena. And until then he 
 would always hold her in tenderest love and the brightest and 
 purest thought. 
 
 He brushed aside the tears as he folded this letter; and, 
 lest regret and self-condemnation seize him again, hurried 
 forth in search of Carmen, whose radiance always dispelled his 
 gloom as the rushing dawn shatters the night. 
 
 She was not in Rosendo's house, and Dona Maria said she 
 
 56 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 had seen the child some time before going in the direction of 
 the "shales." These were broad beds of rock to the south of 
 town, much broken and deeply fissured, and so glaringly hot 
 during most of the day as to be impassable. Thither Jose bent 
 his steps, and at length came upon the girl sitting in the shade 
 of a stunted algarroba tree some distance from the usual trail. 
 
 "Well, what are you doing here, little one?" he inquired 
 in surprise. 
 
 The child looked up visibly embarrassed. "I was thinking, 
 Padre," she made slow reply. 
 
 "But do you have to go away from home to think?" he 
 queried. 
 
 "I wanted to be alone; and there was so much going on in 
 the house that I came out here." 
 
 "And what have you been thinking about. Carmen?" pursued 
 Jos6, suspecting that her presence in the hot shale beds held 
 some deeper significance than she had as yet revealed. 
 
 "I — I was just thinking that God is everywhere," she fal- 
 tered. 
 
 "Yes, chiquita. And—?" 
 
 "That He is where padre Rosendo is going, and that He will 
 take care of him up there, and bring him back to Simiti again." 
 
 "And were you asking Him to do it, little one?" 
 
 "No, Padre; I was just knowing that He would." 
 
 The little lip quivered, and the brown eyes were wet with 
 tears. But Jose could see that faith had conquered, whatever 
 the struggle might have been. The child evidently had sought 
 solitude, that she might most forcibly bring her trust in God 
 to bear upon the little problem confronting her — that she might 
 make the certainty of His immanence and goodness destroy in 
 her thought every dark suggestion of fear or doubt. 
 
 "God will take care of him, won't He, Padre?" 
 
 Jose had taken her hand and was leading her back to the 
 house. 
 
 "You have said it, child; and I believe you are a law unto 
 yourself," was the priest's low, earnest reply. The child smiled 
 up at him; and Jose knew he had spoken truth. 
 
 That evening, the preparations for departure completed, 
 Rosendo and Jos6 took their chairs out before the house, where 
 they sat late, each loath to separate lest some final word be left 
 unsaid. The tepid evening melted into night, which died away 
 in a deep silence that hung wraith-like over the old town. 
 Myriad stars rained their shimmering lustre out of the un- 
 fathomable vault above. 
 
 "Un canasto de flores," mused Rosendo, looking off into the 
 infinite blue. 
 
 57 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "A basket of flowers, indeed," responded Jose reverently. 
 
 "Padre — " Rosendo's brain seemed to struggle with a tre- 
 mendous thought — "I often try to think of what is beyond the 
 stars; and I cannot. Where is the end?" 
 
 "There is none, Rosendo." 
 
 "But, if we could get out to the last star — what then?" 
 
 "Still no end, no limit," replied Jos6. 
 
 "And they are very far away — how far. Padre?" 
 
 "You would not comprehend, even if I could tell you, Ro- 
 sendo. But— how shall I say it? Some are millions of miles 
 from us. Others so far that their light reaches us only after 
 the lapse of centuries." 
 
 "Their light!" returned Rosendo quizzically. 
 
 "Yes. Light from those stars above us travels nearly two 
 hundred .thousand miles a second — " 
 
 "Hombrel" ejaculated the uncomprehending Rosendo. 
 
 "And yet, even at that awful rate of speed, it is probable 
 that there are many stars whose light has not yet reached the 
 earth since it became inhabited by men." 
 
 "Caramba!" 
 
 "You may well say so, friend." 
 
 "But, Padre — does the light never stop? When does it 
 reach an end — a stopping-place?" 
 
 "There is no stopping-place, Rosendo. There is no solid 
 sky above us. Go whichever way you will, you can never reach 
 an end." 
 
 Rosendo's brow knotted with puzzled wonder. Even Jose's 
 own mind staggered anew at its concent of the immeasurable 
 depths of space. 
 
 "But, Padre, if we could go far enough up we would get to 
 heaven, wouldn't we?" pursued Rosendo. "And if we went far 
 enough down we would reach purgatory, and then hell, is it not 
 so?" 
 
 Restraint fell upon the priest. He dared riot answer lest he 
 reveal his own paucity of ideas regarding these things. Happily 
 the loquacious Rosendo continued without waiting for reply. 
 
 "Padre Simon used to say when I was a child that the red 
 we saw in the sky at sunset was the reflection of the flames of 
 hell; so I have always thought that hell was below us — perhaps 
 in the center of the earth." 
 
 For a time his simple mind mused over this puerile idea. 
 Then— 
 
 "What do you suppose God looks like. Padre?" 
 
 Jose's thought flew back to the galleries and chapels of 
 Europe, where the masters have so often portrayed their ideas 
 of God in the shape of an old, gray-haired man, partly bald, 
 
 58 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 and with long, flowing beard. Alas! how pitifully crude, how 
 lamentably impotent such childish concepts. For they saw in 
 God only their own frailties infinitely magnified. Small wonder 
 that they lived and died in spiritual gloom! 
 
 "Padre," Rosendo went on, "if there is no limit to the uni- 
 verse, then it is — " 
 
 "Infinite in extent, Rosendo," finished Jose. 
 
 "Then whoever made it is infinite, too," Rosendo added 
 hypothetically. 
 
 "An infinite effect implies an infinite cause — ^yes, certainly," 
 Jose answered. 
 
 "So, if God made the universe. He is infinite, is He not. 
 Padre?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then He can't be at all like us," was the logical conclusion. 
 
 Jose was thinking hard. The universe stands as something 
 created. And scientists agree that it is infinite in extent. Its 
 creator therefore must be infinite in extent. And as the uni- 
 verse continues to exist, that which called it into being, and 
 still maintains it, must likewise continue to exist. Hence, God is. 
 
 "Padre, what holds the stars in place?" Rosendo's ques- 
 tions were as persistent as a child's. 
 
 "They are held in place by laws, Rosendo," the priest re- 
 plied evasiyely. But as he made answer he revolved in his 
 own mind that the laws by which an infinite universe is 
 created and maintained must themselves be infinite. 
 
 "And God made those laws?" 
 
 "Yes, Rosendo." 
 
 But, the priest mused, a power great enough to frame in- 
 finite laws must be itself all-powerful. And if it has ever been 
 all-powerful, it could never cease to be so, for there could be 
 nothing to deprive it of its power. Omnipotence excludes 
 everything else. Or, what is the same thing, is all-inclusive. 
 
 But laws originate, even as among human beings, in mind, 
 for a law is a mental thing. So the infinite laws which 
 bind the stars together, and by which the universe was de- 
 signed and is still maintained, could have originated only in a 
 mind, and that one infinite. 
 
 "Then God surely must know everything," commented 
 Rosendo, by way of simple and satisfying conclusion. 
 
 Certainly the creator of an infinite universe — a universe, 
 moreover, which reveals intelligence and knowledge on the 
 part of its cause — the originator of infinite laws, which reveal 
 omnipotence in their maker — must have all knowledge, all 
 wisdom, at his command. But, on the other hand, intelligence, 
 knowledge, wisdom, are ever mental things. What could em- 
 
 59 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 brace these things, and by them create an infinite universe, but 
 an infinite mind? 
 
 Jos6's thought reverted to Cardinal Newman's reference to 
 God as "an initial principle." Surely the history of the universe 
 reveals the patent fact that, despite the mutations of time, de- 
 spite growth, maturity, and decay, despite "the wreck of matter 
 and the crash of worlds," something endures. What is it — 
 law? Yes, but more. Ideas? Still more. Mind? Yes, the 
 mind which is the anima mundi, the principle, of all things. 
 
 "But if He is so great. Padre, and knows everything, I don't 
 see why He made the devil," continuea Rosendo; "for the devil 
 fights against Him all the time." 
 
 Ah, simple-hearted child of nature! A mind so pure as 
 yours should give no heed to thoughts of Satan. And the man at 
 your side is now too deeply buried in the channels which run be- 
 low the superficiality of the world's thought to hear your 
 childish question. Wait. The cause of an infinite effect must 
 itself be infinite. The framer of infinite laws must be an in- 
 finite mind. And an infinite mind must contain all knowledge, 
 and have all power. But were it to contain any seeds or germs 
 of decay, or any elements of discord — in a word, any evil — it 
 must disintegrate. Then it would cease to be omnipotent. 
 Verily, to be eternal and perfect it must be wholly good! "And 
 so," the priest mused aloud, "we call it God." 
 
 But, he continued to reflect, when we accept the conclusion 
 that the universe is the product of an infinite mind, we are 
 driven to certain other inevitable conclusions, if we would be 
 logical. The minds of men manifest themselves continually, 
 and the manifestation is in mental processes and things. Men- 
 tal activity results in the unfolding of ideas. Does the activity 
 of an infinite mind differ in this respect? And, if not, can the 
 universe be other than a mental thing? For, if an infinite mind 
 created a universe, it must have done so by the unfolding of 
 its own ideas! And, remaining infinite, filling all space, this 
 mind must ever continue to contain those ideas. And the uni- 
 verse — the creation — ^is mental. 
 
 The burden of thought oppressed the priest, and he got up 
 from his chair and paced back and forth before the house. 
 But still his searching mind burrowed incessantly, as if it 
 would unearth a living thing that had been buried since the 
 beginning. 
 
 In order to fully express itself, an infinite mind would have 
 to unfold an infinite number and variety of ideas. And this 
 unfolding would go on forever, since an infinite number is never 
 reached. This is "creation," and it could never terminate. 
 
 "Rosendo," said Jose, returning to his chair, "you have 
 
 60 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 asked what God looks like. I cannot say, for God must be 
 mind, unlimited mind. He has all knowledge and wisdom, as 
 well as all power. He is necessarily eternal-^has always ex- 
 isted, and always will, for He is entirely perfect and harmo- 
 nious, without the slightest trace or taint of discord or evil." 
 
 "Then you think He does not look like us?" queried the 
 simple Rosendo. 
 
 "Mind does not look like a human body, Rosendo. And an 
 infinite cause can be infinite only by being mind, not body. 
 Moreover, He is unchanging — for He could not change and re- 
 main eternal. Carmen insists that He is everywhere. To be 
 always present He must be what the Bible says He is, spirit. 
 Or, what is the same thing, mind. Rosendo, He manifests 
 Himself everywhere and in everything — there is no other con- 
 clusion admissible. And to be eternal He has got to be abso- 
 lutely good!" 
 
 "But, Padre," persisted Rosendo, "who made the devil?" 
 
 "There is no devil!" 
 
 "But there is wickedness — " 
 
 "No!" interrupted Jose emphatically. "God is infinite good, 
 and there can be no real evil." 
 
 "But how do you know that. Padre?" 
 
 "I can't say how I know it — it reasons out that way logic- 
 ally. I think I begin to see the light. Can you not see that for 
 some reason Carmen doesn't admit the existence of evil? And 
 you know, and I know, that she is on the right track. I have 
 followed the opposite path all my life; and it led right into the 
 slough of despond. Now I have turned, and am trying to fol- 
 low her. And do you put the thought of Satan out of your 
 mentality and do likewise." 
 
 "But, the Virgin Mary — she has power with God?" Ro- 
 sendo's primitive ideas were in a hopeless tangle. 
 
 "Good friend, forget the Virgin Mary," said Jose gently, 
 laying his hand on Rosendo's arm. 
 
 "Forget her! Hombrel Why — she has all power — she 
 works miracles every hour — she directs the angels — gives com- 
 mands to God himself! Padre Simon said she was the absolute 
 mistress of heaven and earth, and that men and animals, the 
 plants, the winds, all health, sickness, life and death, depended 
 upon her will! He said she did. not die as we must, but that 
 she was taken up into heaven, and that her body was not al- 
 lowed to decay and return to dust, as ours will. Hombre! She 
 is in heaven now, praying for us. What would become of us 
 but for her? — for she prays to God for us — she — !" 
 
 "No, Rosendo, she does nothing of the kind. God is in- 
 finite, unchanging. He could not be moved or influenced by 
 
 61 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the Virgin Mary or any one else. He is unlimited good. He is 
 not angry with us — He couldn't be, for He could not know 
 anger. Did not Jesus say that God was Love? Love does not 
 afflict — Love does not need to be importuned or prayed to. I see 
 it now. I see something of what Carmen sees. We suffer when 
 we sin, because we 'miss the mark.' But the punishment lasts 
 only as long as the sin continues. And we suffer only until 
 we know that God is infinite good, and that there is no evil. 
 That is the truth, I feel sure, which Jesus came to teach, and 
 which he said would make us free. Free from what? From 
 the awful beliefs that use us, and to which we are now sub- 
 ject, until we learn the facts about God and His creation. Don't 
 you see that infinite good could never create evil, nor ever per- 
 mit evil to be created, nor allow it to really exist?" 
 
 "Well, then, what is evil? And where did it come from?" 
 
 "That we must wait to learn, Rosendo, little by little. You 
 know, the Spanish proverb says, 'Step by step goes a great 
 way.' But meantime, let us go forward, clinging to this great 
 truth: God is infinite good — He is love — we are His dear chil- 
 dren — and evil was not made by Him, and does not have His 
 sanction. It therefore cannot be real. It must be illusion. 
 And, being such, it can be overcome, as Jesus said it could." 
 
 "Na, Padre—" 
 
 "Wait, Rosendo!" Jose held up his hand. "Carmen is doing 
 just what I am advising you to do — is she not?" 
 
 "Yes, Padre." 
 
 "Do you think she is mistaken?" 
 
 "Padre, she knows God better than she knows me," the 
 man whispered. 
 
 "It was you who first told her that God was everywhere, 
 was it not?" 
 
 "Yes, Padre." 
 
 And the mind of the child, keenly sensitive and receptive 
 to truth, had eagerly grasped this dictum and made it the motif 
 of her life. She knew nothing of Jesus, no'thing of current 
 theology. Divine Wisdom had used Rosendo, credulous and 
 superstitious though he himself was, to guard this girl's mind 
 against the entrance of errors which were taught him as a 
 child, and which in manhood held him shackled in chains which 
 he might not break. 
 
 "Rosendo," Jose spoke low and reverently, "I believe now 
 that you and I have both been guided by that great mind which 
 I am calling God. I believe we are being used for some benefi- 
 cent purpose, and that it has to do with Carmen. That pur- 
 pose will be unfolded to us as we bow to His will. Every way 
 closed against me, excepting the one that led to Simiti. Here I 
 
 62 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 found her. And now there seems to be but one way open to 
 you — to go back to Guamoc6. And you go, forgetful of self, 
 thinking only that you serve her. Ah, friend, you are serving 
 Him whom you reflect in love to His beautiful child." 
 
 "Yes, Padre." 
 
 "But, while we accept our tasks gratefully, I feel that we 
 shall be tried — and we may not live to see the results of our 
 labors. There are influences abroad which threaten danger to 
 Carmen and to us. Perhaps we shall not avert them. But we 
 have given ourselves to her, and through her to the great pur- 
 pose with which I feel she is concerned." 
 
 Rosendo slowly rose, and his great height and magnificent 
 physique cast the shadow of a Brobdignan in the light as he 
 stood in the doorway. 
 
 "Padre," he replied, "I am an old man, and I have but few 
 years left. But however many they be, they are hers. And 
 had I a thousand, I would drag them all through the fires of 
 hell for the child! I cannot follow you when you talk about 
 Godf. My mind gets weary. But this I know, the One who 
 brought me here and then went away will some day call for me 
 — and I am always ready." 
 
 He turned into the house and sought his hard bed. The 
 great soul knew not that he reflected the light of divine Love 
 with a radiance unknown to many a boasting "vicar of Christ," 
 
 CHAPTER 9 
 
 AT the first faint flush of morn Rosendo departed for the 
 h\ hills. The emerald coronets of the giant ceibas on the far 
 ■*• ■*■ lake verge burned softly with a ruddy glow. From the 
 water's dimpling surface downy vapors rose languidly in del- 
 icate tints and drew slowly out in nebulous bands across the 
 dawn sky. The smiling softness of the velvety hills beckoned 
 him, and the pungent odor of moist earth dilated his nostrils. 
 He laughed aloud as the joyousness of youth surged again 
 through his veins. The village still slumbered, and no one saw 
 him as he smote his great chest and strode to the boat, where 
 Juan had disposed his outfit and was waiting to pole him across. 
 Only the faithful Doiia Maria had softly called a final "adios- 
 cito" to him when he left his house. A half hour later, when 
 the dugout poked its blunt nose into the ooze of the opposite 
 shore, he leaped out and hurriedly divested himself of his 
 clothing. Then he lifted his chaij- with its supplies to his 
 shoulders, and Juan strapped it securely to his back, drawing 
 
 63 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 the heavy band tightly across his forehead. With a farewell 
 wave of his hand to the lad, the man turned and plunged into 
 the Guamoc6 trail, and was quickly lost in the dense thicket. 
 Six days later, if no accident befell, he would reach his destina- 
 tion, the singing waters of the crystal Tigui. 
 
 His heart leaped as he strode, though none knew better 
 than he what hardships those six days held for him — days of 
 plunging through fever-laden bogs; staggering in withering 
 heat across open savannas; now scaling the slippery slopes of 
 great mountains; now swimming the chill waters of rushing 
 streams; making his bed where night overtook him, among 
 the softly pattering forest denizens and the swarming insect 
 life of the dripping woods. His black skin glistened with per- 
 spiration and the heavy dew wiped from the close-growing 
 bush. With one hand he leaned upon a young sapling cut for 
 a staff. With the other he incessantly swung his machete to 
 clear the dim trail. His eyes were held fixed to the ground, 
 to escape tripping over low vines, and to avoid contact with 
 crawling creatures of the jungle, whose sting, inflicted with- 
 out provocation, might so easily prove fatal. His active mind 
 sported the while among the fresh thoughts stimulated by his 
 journey, though back of all, as through a veil, the vision of 
 Carmen rose like the piUar of cloud which guided the wander- 
 ing Israel. Toil and danger fled its presence; and from it 
 radiated a warm glow which suffused his soul with light. 
 
 When Jos6 arose that morning he was still puzzling over 
 the logical conclusions drawn from his premise of the evening 
 before, and trying to reconcile them with common sense and 
 prevalent belief. In a way, he seemed to be an explorer, carv- 
 ing a path to hidden wonders. Dona Maria greeted him at the 
 breakfast table with the simple announcement of Rosendo's 
 early departure. No sign of sorrow ruffled her quiet and 
 dignified demeanor. Nor did Carmen, who bounded into his 
 arms, fresh as a new-blown rose, manifest the slightest indi- 
 cation, of anxiety regarding Rosendo's welfare. Jos6 might 
 not divine the thoughts which the woman's placid exterior 
 concealed. But for the child, he well knew that her problem 
 had been met and solved, and that she had laid it aside with 
 a trust in immanent good which he did not believe all the 
 worldly argument of pedant or philosopher could shake. 
 
 "Now to business once more!" cried Jos6 joyously, the meal 
 finished. "Just a look-in at the church, to get the boys started; 
 and then to devote the day to you, seiiorita!" The child 
 laughed at the appellation. 
 
 Returning from the church some moments later, Jose 
 found Carmen bending over the fireplace, struggling to remove 
 a heavy kettle from the hot stones. 
 
 64 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Careful, child!" he cried in apprehension, hurrying to her 
 assistance. "You will burn your fingers, or hurt yourself!" 
 
 "Not unless you make me. Padre," Carmen quickly replied, 
 rising and confronting the priest with a demeanor whose every 
 element spelled rebuke. 
 
 "Well, I certainly shall not make you!" the man exclaimed 
 in surprise. 
 
 "No, Padre. God will not let you. He does not burn or 
 hurt people." 
 
 "Certainly not! But—" 
 
 "And nothing else can, for He is everywhere — ^isn't He?" 
 
 "Well — perhaps so," the priest retorted impatiently. "But 
 somehow people get burnt and hurt just the same, and it is 
 well to be careful." 
 
 The child studied him for a moment. Then she said 
 quietly — 
 
 "I guess people burn and hurt themselves because they are 
 afraid — don't they? And I ani not afraid." 
 
 She tossed her brown curls as if in defiance of the thought 
 of fear. Yet Jose somehow felt that she never really defied 
 evil, but rather met its suggestions with a firm conviction of 
 its impotence in the presence of immanent good. He checked 
 the impulse to further conversation. Bidding the child come 
 to him as soon as possible to begin the day's work, he went 
 back to his own abode to reflect. 
 
 He had previously said that this child should be brought 
 up to know no evil. And yet, was he not suggesting evil to 
 her at every turn? Did not his insistence upon the likelihood 
 of hurting or burning herself emphasize his own stalwart 
 belief in evil as an immanent power and contingency? Was 
 he thus always to maintain a house divided against itself? But 
 some day she must know, whether by instruction or dire ex- 
 perience, that evil is a fact to be reckoned with! And as her 
 protector, it was his duty to* — But he had not the heart to 
 shatter such beautiful confidence! 
 
 Then he fell to wondering how long that pure faith could 
 endure. Certainly not long if she were subjected to the sort of 
 instruction which the children of this world receive. But was 
 it not his duty with proper tutelage to make it last as long as 
 possible? Was it not even now so firmly grounded that it 
 never could be shaken? 
 
 He dwelt on the fact that nearly all children at some period 
 early in life commune with their concept of God. He had, 
 himself. As a very young child he had even felt himself on 
 such terms of familiarity with God that he could not sleep 
 without first bidding Him good night. As a young child, too, 
 
 65 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 he had known no evil. Nor do any children, until their perfect 
 confidence in good is chilled by the false instruction of parents 
 and teachers, who parade evil before them in all its hideous 
 garb. 
 
 Alas ! for the baneful belief that years bring wisdom. How 
 pitiable, and how cruelly detrimental to the child are an igno- 
 rant parent's assumptions of superiority! How tremendous 
 the responsibility that now lay at his own do&r! Yet no 
 greater than that which lies at the door of every parent 
 throughout the world. 
 
 It is sadly true, he reflected, that children are educated 
 almost entirely along material lines. Even in the imparting of 
 religious instruction, the spiritual is so tainted with material- 
 ism, and its concomitants of fear and limitation, that the pre- 
 ponderance of faith is always on the material side. Jose had 
 believed that as he had grown older in years he had lost faith. 
 Far from it! The quantity of his faith remained fixed; but 
 the quality had changed, through education, from faith in 
 good to faith in evil. And though trained as a priest of God, 
 in reality he had been taught wholly to distrust spiritual power. 
 
 But how could a parent rely on spiritual power to save a 
 child about to fall into the fire? Must not children be warned, 
 and taught to protect themselves from accident and disaster, 
 as far as may be? True — yet, what causes accident and dis- 
 aster? Has the parent's thought aught to do with it? Has 
 the world's thought? Can it be traced to the universal accept- 
 ance of evil as a power, real and operative? Does mankind's 
 woeful lack of faith in good manifest itself in accident, sick- 
 ness, and death? 
 
 A cry roused Jose from his revery. It came from back of 
 the house. Hastening to the rear door he saw Dona Maria 
 standing petrified, looking in wide-eyed horror toward the 
 lake. Jos6 followed her gaze, and his blood froze. Carmen 
 had been sent to meet the canoe that daily supplied fresh water 
 to the village from the Juncal river, which flowed into the 
 lake at the far north end. It had not yet arrived, and she had 
 sat down beside her jar at the water's edge, and was lost in 
 dreams as she looked out over the shimmering expanse. A 
 huge crocodile which had been lying in the shadow of a shale 
 ledge had marked the child, and was steadily creeping up be- 
 hind her. The reptile was but a few feet from her when Dona 
 Maria, wondering at her delay, had gone to the rear door and 
 witnessed her peril. 
 
 In a flash Jos6 recalled the tale related to him but a few 
 days before by Fidel Avila, who was working in the church. 
 
 "Padre," Fidel had said, "as soon as the church is ready I 
 
 66 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 shall offer a candle to good -San fa Catalina for protecting my 
 sister." 
 
 "How was that, my son?" inquired JosL 
 
 "She protected her from a crocodile a year ago, Padre. The 
 girl had gone to the lake to get water to wash our clothes, and 
 as she sat in the stern of the boat dipping the water, a great 
 crocodile rose and seized her arm. I heard her scream, and 
 I was saying the rosary at the time. And so I prayed to Santa 
 Catalina not to let the crocodile eat her, and she didn't." 
 
 "Then your sister was saved?" 
 
 "The crocodile pulled her under the water. Padre, and she 
 was drowned. But he did not eat her; and we got her body 
 and buried her here in the cemetery. We were very grateful." 
 
 Sancta simplicitasi That such childish credulity might be 
 turned into proper channels! 
 
 But there were times when fish were scarce in the lake. 
 Then the crocodiles became bold; and many babes had been 
 seized and dragged off by them, never to return. The fishing 
 this season had been very poor. And more than one fisher- 
 man had asked Jose to invoke the Virgin in his behalf. 
 
 Nearer crept the monster toward the unsuspecting girl. 
 Suddenly she turned and looked squarely at it. She might 
 almost have touched it with her hand. For Jose it was one of 
 those crises that "crowd eternity into an hour." The child 
 and the reptile might have been painted against that wondrous 
 tropic background. The great brute stood bolt upright on its 
 squat legs^ its hideous jaws partly open. The girl made no 
 motion, but seemed to hold it with her steady gaze. Then — 
 the creature dropped; its jaws snapped shut; and it scampered 
 into the water. 
 
 "Grod above!" cried Jose, as he rushed to the girl and clasped 
 her in his arms. "Forgive me if I ever doubted the miracles 
 of Jesus!" 
 
 Dofia Maria turned and quietly resumed her work; but the 
 man was completely unstrung. 
 
 "What is it. Padre?" Carmen asked in unfeigned surprise. 
 "I am not afraid of crocodiles — are you? You couldn't be, if 
 you knew that God is everywhere." 
 
 "But don't you know, child, that crocodiles have carried 
 off—" 
 
 He checked himself. No — he would not say it. He had 
 had his lesson. 
 
 "What, Padre?" 
 
 "Nothing — nothing — I forgot — that's all. A— a — come, let 
 us begin our lessons now." 
 
 But his mind refused to be held to the work. Finally he 
 had to ask — he could not help it. 
 
 67 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Carmen, what did you do? Did you talk to the croco- 
 dile?" 
 
 "Why, no. Padre — crocodiles don't talk!" And throwing 
 her little head back she laughed heartily at the absurd idea. 
 
 "But— you did something! What was it? Tell me." 
 
 "No, Padre, I did nothing," the child persisted. 
 
 He saw he must reach her thought in another way. "Why 
 did the crocodile come up to yon. Carmen?" he asked. 
 
 "Why-i--I guess because it loved me — I don't know." 
 
 "And did you love it as you sat looking at it?" 
 
 "Of course, Padre. We have just got to love everything. 
 Don't you know that?" 
 
 "Y — yes — that is so, chiquita. I — I just thought I would ask 
 you. Now let us begin the arithmetic lesson." 
 
 The child loved the hideous saurian! And "perfect love 
 casteth out fear." What turned the monster from the girl 
 and drove it into the lake? Love, again, before which evil falls 
 in sheer impotence? Had she worked a miracle? Certainly 
 not! Had God interposed in her behalf ? Again, no. "He that 
 dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under 
 the shadow of the Almighty." And would divine Love always 
 protect her? There could be no question about it, as long as 
 she knew no evil. 
 
 The morning hours sped past. From arithmetic, they 
 turned to the English lesson. Next to perfection in her own 
 Castilian, Jose felt that this language was most important for 
 her. And she delighted in it, although her odd little pronuncia- 
 tions, and her vain attempts to manipulate words to conform to 
 her own ideas of enunciation brought many a hearty laugh, in 
 which she joined with enthusiasm. The afternoon, as was 
 his plan for future work, was devoted to narratives of men 
 and events, and to descriptions of places. It was a ceaseless 
 wonder to Jose how her mind absprbed his instruction. 
 
 "How readily you see these things. Carmen," he said, as 
 he concluded the work for the day. 
 
 "See them. Padre? But not with my outside eyes." 
 
 The remark seemed to start a train of thought within her 
 mentality. "Padre," she at length asked, "how do we see with 
 our eyes?" 
 
 "It is very simple, chiquita," Jos6 replied. "Here, let me 
 draw a picture of an eye." 
 
 He quickly sketched a rough outline of the human organ of 
 sight. "Now," he began, "you know you cannot see in the 
 dark, don't you?" 
 
 "Yes, Padre?" 
 
 "In order to see, we must have light." 
 
 68 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "What is light. Padre dear?" 
 
 "Well — light is — is vibrations. That is, rapid movement." 
 
 "What moves?" 
 
 "A — a — a — ^well, nothing — that is, light is just vibrations. 
 The pendulum of the old clock in Don Mario's store vibrates, 
 you know — moves back and forth." 
 
 "And light does that?" 
 
 "Yes; light is that. Now that chair there, for example, 
 reflects light, just as a mirror does. It reflects vibrations. And 
 these are all of just a certain length, for vibrations of just 
 that length and moving up and down just so fast make light. 
 The light enters the eye, like this," tracing the rays on his 
 sketch. "It makes a little picture of the chair on the back of 
 the eye, where the optic nerve is fastened. Now the light 
 makes the little ends of this nerve vibrate, too — move very 
 rapidly. And that movement is carried along the nerve to 
 some place in the brain — to what we call the center of sight. 
 And there we see the chair." 
 
 The child studied the sketch long and seriously. 
 
 "But, Padre, is the picture of the chair carried on the nerve 
 to the brain?" 
 
 "Oh, no, chiquita, only vibrations. It is as if the nerve 
 moved just a little distance, but very, very fast, back and 
 forth, or up and down." 
 
 "And no picture is carried to the brain?" 
 
 "No, there is just a vibration in the brain." 
 
 "And that vibration makes us see the chair?" 
 
 "Yes, little one." 
 
 A moment of silence. Then — 
 
 "Padre dear, I don't believe it." 
 
 "Why, chiquita I" 
 
 "Well, Padre, what is it that sees the chair, anyway?" 
 
 "The mind, dear." 
 
 "Is the mind up there in the brain?" 
 
 "Well — no, we can't say that it is." 
 
 "Where is it, then?" 
 
 "A — a — ^well, no place in particular — that is, it is right 
 here all the time." 
 
 "Well, then, when the mind wants to see the chair does it 
 have to climb up into the brain and watch that little nerve 
 wiggle?" 
 
 The man was at a loss for an answer. Carmen suddenly 
 crumpled the sketch in her small hand and smiled up at him, 
 
 "Padre dear, I don't believe our outside eyes see anything. 
 We just think they do, don't we?" 
 
 Jose looked out through the open door. Carmen's weird 
 heron was stalking in immense dignity past the house. 
 
 69 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "I think Cantar-las-horas is getting ready to sing the Ves- 
 pers, . chigui/a. And so Dona Maria probably needs you npw. 
 We will talk more about the eye to-morrow." 
 
 By the light of his sputtering candle that night Jose sat 
 with elbows propped on the table, his head clasped in his 
 hands, and a sketch of the human eye before him. In his con- 
 fident attempt to explain to Carmen the process of cognition he 
 had been completely baffled. Certainly, light coming from an 
 object enters the eye and casts a picture upon the retina. He 
 had often- seen the photographic camera exhibit the same 
 phenomenon. The law of the impenetrability of matter had 
 to be set aside, of course — or else light must be pure vibration, 
 without a material vibrating concomitant. Then, too, it was 
 plain that the light in some way communicated its vibration 
 to the little projecting ends of the optic nerve, which lie spread 
 out over the rear inner surface of the eye. And equally patent 
 that this vibration is in some way taken up by the optic nerve 
 and transmitted to the center of sight in the brain. But after 
 that — what? He laughed again at Carmen's pertinent ques- 
 tion about the mind climbing up into the brain to see the 
 vibrating nerve. But was it so silly a presumption, after all? 
 Is the mind within the brain, awaiting in Stygian darkness the 
 advent of the vibrations which shall give it pictures of the out- 
 side world? Or is the mind outside of the brain, but still 
 slavishly forced to look at these vibrations of the optic nerve 
 and then translate them into terms of things without? What 
 could a vibrating nerve suggest to a well-ordered mind, any- 
 way? He might as logically wave a piece of meat and expect 
 thereby to see a world! He laughed aloud at the thought. 
 Why does not the foolish mind leave the brain and look at 
 the picture on the retina? Or why does it not throw off its 
 shackles and look directly at the object to be cognized, instead 
 of submitting to dependence upon so frail a thing as fleshly 
 eyes and nerves? 
 
 As he mused and sketched, unmindful of the voracious 
 mosquitoes or the blundering moths that momentarily threat- 
 ened his light, it dawned islowly upon him that the mind's 
 awareness of material objects could not possibly depend upon 
 the vibrations of pieces of nerve tissue, so minute as to be 
 almost invisible to the unaided sight. Still more absurd did 
 it appear to him that his own mind, of which he might justly 
 boast tremendous powers, could be prostituted to such a de- 
 gree that its knowledge of things must be served to it on 
 waving pieces of flesh. 
 
 And how about the other senses — touch, hearing? Did 
 the ear hear, or the hand feel? He had always accepted the 
 
 70 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 general belief that man is dependent absolutely upon the five 
 physical senses for his knowledge of an outside world. And 
 now a little thought showed that from these five senses man 
 could not pQssibly receive anything more than a series of 
 disconnected vibrations! And, going a step further, anything 
 that the mind infers from these vibrations is unquestionably 
 inferred without a particle of outside authority! 
 
 He rose and paced the floor. A tremendous idea seemed to 
 be knocking at the portal of his mentality. 
 
 What can the mind know? Assuredly nothing but the con- 
 tents of itself. But the contents of mind are thoughts, ideas, 
 mental things. Do solid material objects enter the mind? Cer- 
 tainly not! Then the mind knows not things, but its thoughts of 
 things. And instead of seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and 
 feeling solid material objects, the mind sees, hears, smells, 
 tastes, and feels — what? The contents of itself! Its own thoughts 
 and ideas! And the outer world? Is only what the mind 
 believes it to be. But surely his mind saw an outer world 
 through the medium of his eye! No. His mind saw only its 
 own concepts of an outer world — and these concepts, being 
 mental, might take" on whatever hue and tinge his mind de^ 
 creed. In other words, instead of seeing a world of matter, he 
 was seeing only a mental picture of a world. And that picture 
 was in his own mind, and formed by that mind! 
 
 The man seized his hat and hurried out into the night. He 
 walked rapidly the full length of the town. His mind was 
 wrestling with stupendous thoughts. 
 
 An liour later he returned to his house, and seizing a pencil, 
 wrote rapidly: Matter is mental. We do not see or feel matter, 
 but we think it. It is formed and held as a mental concept 
 in every human mind. The material universe is but the human 
 mind's concept of a universe, and can only be this mentality's 
 translation to itself of infinite Mind's purely mental Creation. 
 
 "And so," he commented aloud, sitting back and regarding 
 his writing, "all my miserable life I have been seeing only my 
 own thoughts! And I have let them use me and color my 
 whole outlook!" 
 
 He extinguished the candle and threw himself, fully 
 dressed, upon his bed. 
 
 71 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 10 
 
 MOMENTOUS changes, of far-reaching effect, had come 
 swiftly upon Jose de Rincon during the last few days, 
 changes which were destined after much vacillation and 
 great mental struggle to leave a reversed outlook. But let no 
 one think these changes fortuitous or casual, the chance result 
 of a new throw of Fate's dice. Jos4 seeing them dimly out- 
 lined, did not so regard them, but rather looked «pon them as 
 the working of great mental laws* still unknown, whose cumu- 
 lative effect had begun a transformation in his soul. How 
 often in his seminary days he had pondered the scripture, "He 
 left /not Himself without witness." How often he had tried to 
 see the hopeless confusion of good and evil in the world about 
 him as a witness to the One who is of purer eyes than to be- 
 hold evil. And he had at last abandoned his efforts in despair. 
 Yet that there must be something behind the complex phe- 
 nomena which men call life, he knew. Call it what he would 
 :^law, force, mind, God, or even X, the great unknown quan- 
 tity for which life's intricate equations must her solved — ^yet 
 something there was in it all which endured in an eternal 
 manifestation. But could that somethirig endure in an ex- 
 pression both good and evil? 
 
 He had long since abandoned all study of the Bible. But 
 in .these last days there had begun to dawn upon him the con- 
 viction that within that strange book were locked mysteries 
 which far transcended the wildest imaginings of the human 
 mind. With it came also the certainty that Jesus had been in 
 complete possession of those sacred mysteries. There could 
 be no question, now that his mission had been woefully mis- 
 understood, often deliberately misinterpreted, and too frequent- 
 ly maliciously misused by mankind. His greatest sayings, 
 teachings so pregnant with truth that, had they been rightfully 
 appropriated by men, ere this would have dematerialized the 
 universe and revealed the spiritual kingdom of God, had been 
 warped by cunning minds into crude systems of theology and 
 righteous shams, behind which the world's money-changers 
 and sellers of doves still drove their wicked traffic and offered 
 insults to Truth in the temple of the Most High. 
 
 Oh, how he now lamented the narrowness and the intel- 
 lectual limitations with which his seminary training had been 
 hedged about! The world's thought had been a closed book 
 to him. Because of his morbid honesty, only such pages 
 reached his eye as had passed the bigoted censorship of Holy 
 
 72 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Church. His religious instruction had been served to him 
 with the seal of infallible authority. Of other systems of 
 theology he had been permitted only the Vatican's biased in- 
 terpretation, for the curse of Holy Church rested upon them. 
 Of current philosophical thought, of Bible criticism and the 
 results of independent scriptural research, he knew practically 
 nothing — little beyond what the explorer had told him in their 
 memorable talks a few weeks before in Cartagena. But, had he 
 known it, these had unbarred the portals of his mind to the 
 reception of the new ideas which, under a most powerful stimu- 
 lus, were now flowing so steadily through them. That stimu- 
 lus was Carmen. 
 
 To meet with a child of tender years who knows no evil 
 is, after all, a not uncommon thing. For, did we but realize 
 it, the world abounds in them. They are its glory, its radiance 
 — until they are taught to heed the hiss of the serpent. Their 
 pure knowledge of immanent good would endure — ah, who 
 may say how long?— did not we who measure our wisdom by 
 years forbid them with the fear-born mandate: "Thus far!" 
 What manner of being was he who said, "Suffer little children 
 to come unto me, and forbid them not?" Oh, ye parents, who 
 forbid your little ones to come to the Christ by hourly heaping 
 up before them the limitations of fear and doubt, of faith in 
 the power and reality of sin and evil, of false instruction, and 
 withering material beliefs! Would not the Christ pray for 
 you to-day, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they 
 do"? 
 
 When Jose met Carmen she was holding steadfastly to her 
 vision — the immanence and allness of God. Each day she 
 created the morrow; and she knew to a certainty that it would 
 be happy. Would he, clanking his fetters of worldly beliefs, 
 be the one to shatter her illusion, if illusion it be? Nay, rather 
 should he seek to learn of her, if haply she be in possession 
 of that jewel for which he had searched a vain lifetime. Al- 
 ready from ^ the stimulus which his intercourse with the child 
 had given his mental processes there had come a sudden libera- 
 tion of thought. Into his freer mentality the Christ-idea now 
 flowed. 
 
 Mankind complain that they cannot "prove" God. But 
 Paul long since declared emphatically that to prove Him the 
 human mind must be transformed. In the light of the great 
 ideas which had dawned upon him in the past few days — the 
 nature of God as mind, unlimited, immanent, eternal, and 
 good; and the specious character of the five physical senses, 
 which from the beginning have deluded mankind into the 
 false belief that through them comes a true knowledge of the 
 cosmos — Jose's mentality was being formed anew. 
 
 15 73 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Hegel, delving for truth in a world of illusion, summed up 
 a lifetime of patient research in the pregnant statement, "The 
 true knowledge of God begins when we know that things as 
 they are have no truth in them." The testimony of the five 
 physical senses constitutes "things as they are." But — if Jose's 
 reasoning be not illogical — the human mind receives no testi- 
 mony from these senses, which, at most, can offer but in- 
 sensate and meaningless vibrations in a pulpy mass called the 
 brain. The true knowledge of God, for which Jose had yearned 
 and striven, begins only when men turn from the mesmeric 
 deception of the physical senses, and learn that there is some- 
 thing, knowable and usable, behind them, and of whose exist- 
 ence they give not the slightest intimation. 
 
 It was Saturday. The church edifice was so far put in order 
 that Jose found no reason for not holding service on the mor- 
 row. He therefore announced the fact, and told Carmen that 
 he must devote the day to preparation. Their lessons must 
 go over to Monday. Seeking the solitude of his house, Jos6 
 returned to his Bible. 
 
 He began with Genesis. "In the beginning — God." Not, as 
 in the codes of men, God last, and after every material ex- 
 pedient has been exhausted — but "to begin with." Jose could 
 not deny that for all that exists there is a cause. Nor can the 
 human mind object to the implication that the cause of an 
 existing universe must itself continue to exist. Even less can 
 it deny that the framer of- the worlds, bound together in in- 
 finite space by the unbreakable cables of infinite laws, must be 
 omnipotent. And to retain its omnipotence, that cause must be 
 perfect — absolutely good — every whit pure, sound, and harmo- 
 nious; for evil is demonstrably self-destructive. And, lastly, 
 what power could operate thus but an infinite intelligence, an 
 all-inclusive mind? 
 
 Now let the human mentality continue its own reasoning, 
 if so be that it hold fast to fact and employ logical processes. 
 If "like produces like" — and from thistles figs do not grow — 
 that which mind creates must be mental. And a good cause 
 can produce only a good effect. So the ancient writer, "And 
 God saw every thing that He had made, and, behold, it was 
 very good." The inspired scribe — inspired? Yes, mused Jose, 
 for inspiration is but the flow of truth into one's mentality — 
 stopped not until he had said, "So God created man in His 
 own image" — 
 
 Wait! He will drive that home. 
 
 — "in the image of God" — not in the image of matter, not 
 in the likeness of evil — "created. He him." But what had now 
 become of that man? 
 
 74 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 So Jesus, centuries later, "God is spirit," and, "That which 
 is born of the Spirit is spirit." Or, man — true man — expresses 
 mind, God, and is His eternal and spiritual likeness and re- 
 flection. But, to make this still clearer to torpid minds, Paul 
 wrote, "For in Him we live, and move, and have our being." 
 Then he added, "To be spiritually minded is life." As if he 
 would say. True life is the consciousness of spiritual things 
 only. 
 
 Is human life aught but a series of states of consciousness? 
 And is consciousness aught but mental activity? — for when the 
 mind's activity ceases, the man dies. But mental activity is 
 the activity of thought. 
 
 "It is the activity of thought," said Jose aloud, "that makes 
 us believe that fleshly eyes see and ears hear. We see only our 
 thoughts; and in some way they become externalized as our 
 environment." 
 
 His reasoning faculty went busily on. Thought builds 
 images, or mental concepts, within the mind. These are the 
 thought-objects which mankind believe they see as material 
 things in an outer world. And so the world is within, not 
 without. Jesus must have known this when he said, "The 
 kingdom of heaven is within you." Did he not know the tre- 
 mendous effects of thought when he said, "For as a man 
 thinketh, so is he"? In other words, a man builds his own 
 mental image of himself, and conveys it to the fellow-minds 
 about him. 
 
 Jose again opened his Bible at random. His eye fell upon 
 the warning of Jeremiah, "Hear, O earth, behold I will bring 
 evil upon this people, even the fruit of their thoughts I" Alas! 
 he needed no warning to show him now the dire results of his 
 own past wrong thinking. 
 
 Evil is but wrong thinking wrought out in life experience. 
 And so the chief of sins is the breaking of the very first Com- 
 mandment, the belief in other powers than God, the infinite 
 mind that framed the spiritual universe. 
 
 "But we simply can't help breaking the Commandment," 
 cried Jose, "when we see nothing but evil about us ! And yet 
 — ^we are seeing only the thoughts in our own minds. True — 
 but how came they there? And whence? From God?" 
 
 Jose was quite ready to concede a mental basis for every- 
 thing; to believe that even sin is but the thought of sin, false 
 thought regarding God and His Creation. But, if God is all- 
 inclusive mind, He must be the only thinker. And so all 
 thought must proceed from Him. All thought, both good and 
 evil? No, for then were God maintaining a house divided 
 against itself. And that would mean His ultimate dissolution. 
 
 75 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Infinite, omnipotent mind is by very logic compelled to be per- 
 fect. Then the thoughts issuing from that mind must be good. 
 So it must follow that evil thoughts come from another source. 
 But if God is infinite, there is no other source, no other cause. 
 Then there is but the single alternative left — evil thoughts 
 must be unreal. 
 
 What was it that the explorer had said to him in regard to 
 Spencer's definition of reality? "That which endures." But, 
 for that matter, evil seems to be just as enduring as good, and 
 to run its course as undeviatingly. After all, what is it that 
 says there is evil? The five physical senses. But that again 
 reduces to the thought of evil, for men see only their thoughts. 
 These so-called senses say that the world is flat — that the sun 
 circles the earth — that objects diminish in size with distance. 
 They testify not to truth. Jesus said that evil, or the "devil," 
 was "a liar and the father of lies." Then the testimony of the 
 physical senses to evil — and there is no other testimony to 
 its existence and power — is a lie. A lie is — what? Nothing. 
 Reason has had to correct sense-testimony in the field of 
 astronomy and show that the earth is not flat. Whfere, indeed, 
 has reason not had to correct sense-testimony? For Jose could 
 now see that all such testimony was essentially false. "Things 
 as they are have no truth in them." In other words, sense- 
 testimony is false belief. Again, a lie. And the habitat of a 
 lie is — nowhere. Did the world by clinging to evil and trying 
 to make' something of it, to classify it and reduce it to definite 
 rules and terms, thus tend to make it real? Assuredly so. And 
 as long as the world held evil to be real, could evil be over- 
 come? Again, no. A reality endures forever. 
 
 Jose arose from his study. He believed he was close to 
 the discovery of that solid basis of truth on which to stand 
 while teaching Carmen. At any rate, her faith, which he 
 could no longer believe to be baseless illusion, would not be 
 shattered by him. 
 
 CHAPTER 11 
 
 TWO weeks after his arrival in Simiti Jos6 conducted his 
 first services in the ancient church. After four years of 
 silence, the rusty bell sent out its raucous call from the 
 old tower that still morning and announced the revival of 
 public worship. 
 
 As the priest stepped from the sacristy and approached the 
 altar his heart experienced a sudden sinking. Before him his 
 little flock bowed reverently and expectantly. Looking out at 
 
 76 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 them, a lump rose in his throat. He was their pastor, and 
 daily his love had grown for these kindly, simple folk. And 
 now, what would he not have given could he have stretched 
 forth his hands, as did the Master, to heal them of their ills 
 and lift them out of the shadows of ignorance ! Ah, if he could 
 have thrown aside the mummery and pagan ceremonialism 
 which he was there to conduct, and have sat down among them, 
 as Jesus was wont to do on those still mornings in Galilee ! 
 Instead, he stood before them an apostate vassal of Rome, 
 hypocritically using the Church to shield and maintain him- 
 self in Simiti while he reared away from her the child Carmen. 
 
 Yet, what could he do? He had heard the call; and he had 
 answered, "Master, here am I." And now he was occupying, 
 while waiting to be led, step by step, out of his cruelly anoma- 
 lous position and into his rightful domain. A traitor to Holy 
 Church? Nay, he thought he would have been a traitor to all 
 that was best and holiest within himself had he done other- 
 wise. In the name of the Church he would serve these humble 
 people. Serving them, he honored the Master. And honoring 
 Christ, he could not dishonor the Church. 
 
 Jose's conduct of the Mass was perfunctory. Vainly he 
 strove to hold in thought the symbolism of the service, the 
 offering of Christ as a propitiation for the world's sins. But 
 gradually the folly of Milton's extravagant, wild dream, which 
 the poet clothed in such imperishable beauty, stole over him 
 and blinded this vision. He saw the Holy Trinity sitting in 
 solemn council in the courts of heaven. He heard their per- 
 plexed discussion of the ravages of Satan in the terrestrial para- 
 dise below. He heard the Father pronounce His awful curse 
 upon mankind. And he beheld the Son rise and with celestial 
 magnanimity offer himself as the sacrificial lamb, whose blood 
 should wash away the serpent-stain of sin. How inept the 
 whole drama! 
 
 And then he thought of Carmen. He had seen her, as he 
 looked out over his people, sitting with Dona Maria, arrayed in 
 a clean white frock, and swinging her plump bare legs beneath 
 the bench, while wonder and amazement peered out from her 
 big brown eyes as she followed his every move. What would 
 such things mean to her, whose God was ever-present good? 
 What did they mean to the priest himself, who was beginning 
 to see Him as infinite, divine mind, knowing no evil — the Oiie 
 whose thoughts are not as ours? 
 
 He took up the holy water and sprinkled the assemblage. 
 "Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean : wash me, and I 
 shall be whiter than snow." But how is the human mind 
 purged of error? By giving it truth. And does the infinite 
 
 77 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 mind purge the thought of men in any other way? His mind 
 was full as he took up the Missal. "Kyrie Eleison, Christe 
 Eleison." 
 
 He hesitated. With a tug he pulled his mind back to the 
 work before him. But why was he invoking clemency from 
 One who knows no evil? Heretofore he had always thought 
 that God knew evil, that He must recognize it, and that He 
 strove Himself to overcome it. But if God knew evil, then evil 
 were real and eternal ! Dreamily he began to intone the Gloria 
 in Excelsis Deo. All hail, thou infinite mind, whose measure- 
 less depths mortal man has not even begun to sound! His 
 soul could echo that strain forever. 
 
 He turned to the Lesson and read: "But there went up a 
 mist from the earth, and watered the whole face of the ground. 
 And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground." He 
 stopped a moment for thought. The Lord God ! The mist of 
 error watered the false thought — the one lie about God — and 
 out of it formed the man of flesh, the false concept which is 
 held in the minds of mortals. Aye, it was the lie, posing as" 
 the Lord of creation, which had formed its false man out of 
 the dust of the ground, and had forced it upon the acceptance 
 of mankind ! Jose turned back and read the whole of the first 
 chapter of Genesis, where he felt that he stood upon truth. 
 
 The tapers on the altar flickered fitfully. The disturbed 
 bats blundered among the rafters overhead. Outside, the dusty 
 roads burned with a white glare. Within, he and the people 
 were worshiping God. Worship? This? "God is a spirit, and 
 they that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in 
 truth." In Truth I 
 
 Jose recited the Nicene creed, with the thought that its 
 man-made fetters had bound the Christian world for dreary 
 centuries. Then, the Preface and Canon concluded, he pro- 
 nounced the solemn words of consecration which turned the 
 bread and wine before him into the flesh and blood of Christ 
 Jesus. He looked at the wafer and the chalice long and 
 earnestly. He — Jose de Rinc6n — mortal, human, a weakling 
 among weaklings — could he command God by his "Hoc est 
 enim corpus meum" to descend from heaven to this altai"? 
 Could he so invoke the power of the Christ as to change bread 
 and wine into actual flesh and blood? And yet, with all the 
 priestly powers which Holy Church had conferred upon him, 
 he could not heal a single bodily ill, nor avert one human 
 misfortune ! 
 
 Ah, pagan Rome! Well have you avenged yourself upon 
 those who wrought your fall, for in the death conflict you left 
 the taint of your paganism upon them, and it endures in their 
 sons even to this fair day! 
 
 78 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Jos6 deferred his sermon until the close of the service. He 
 wanted time to think over again what he could say to these 
 simple people. They sat before him, dull, inert, yet impres- 
 sionable — =bare of feet, or wearing hempen sandals, and clad in 
 cheap cottons and calicos, with here and there a flash of bright 
 ribbon among the women, and occasionally a parasol of bril- 
 liant hue, which the owner fondly clasped, while impatiently 
 awaiting the close of the service that she might proudly parade 
 it. A few of the men wore starched linen shirts, but without 
 collars. The Alcalde, with his numerous family, and the 
 family of Don Felipe Alcozer, sat well in front. The former 
 regarded Jose expectantly, as the priest turned to deliver his 
 simple sermon. 
 
 "My children," Jose began, "when the good man whom we 
 call the Saviour sent his disciples out into the world he told 
 them to preach the gospel and heal the sick. We have no 
 record that he asked them to do more, for that included his 
 whole mission. I am here to do his work. And, as I believe 
 myself to have been led to you, so I shall preach what I be- 
 lieve to be given me by the great Father of us all. I shall teach 
 you the Christ as I comprehend him. I would I could heal 
 the sick as well. But the gift of healing which Jesus bestowed 
 has been lost to mankind." He paused and seemed to think 
 deeply. Then he continued: 
 
 "I am your servant, and your friend. I want you to believe 
 that whatever I do in your midst and whatever I say to you 
 follows only after I have prayerfully considered your welfare. 
 As time has passed I have seemed to see things in a clearer* 
 light than before. What I may see in the future I shall point 
 out to you as you are able to understand me. To that end we 
 must suffer many things to be as they are for the present, for 
 I am learning with ypu. I shall give you a single thought to 
 take with you to-day. Jesus once said, 'As a man thinketh, so 
 is he.' I want you to remember that, if you would be well and 
 happy and prosperous, you must think only about good things. 
 Some day you will see why this is so. But go back now to 
 your fincas and your fishing, to your little stores and your 
 humble homes, firmly resolving never to think a bad thought, 
 whether about yourself or your neighbor. And pray for your-, 
 selves and me—" 
 
 He looked off into the gloom overhead. Again he seemed to 
 hear the Man of Galilee : "Ask and ye shall receive." 
 
 "And, my children — " 
 
 He thought suddenly of Carmen and her visits to the shales. 
 His face shone for a moment with a new light. 
 
 " — ^let your prayers be no mere requests that God will bless 
 
 79 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 us, but rather let them be statements that He is infinite good, 
 and that He cannot do otherwise than give us all we need. No, 
 I ask not that you intercede for me; nor shall I do so for you. 
 But I do ask that you join with me in trying to realize that 
 God is good; that He loves us as His dear children; and that 
 He is daily, hourly pouring out His inexhaustible goodness 
 upon us. We shall all see that goodness when we learn to 
 think no evil." 
 
 His eyes rested upon Carmen as he spoke these last words. 
 Then with a simple invocation he dismissed the congregation. 
 
 The Alcalde carried Jose off to dinner with him, much 
 against the inclination of the priest, who preferred to be alone. 
 But the Alcalde was the chief influence in the town, and it 
 was policy to cultivate him. 
 
 "The blessed Virgin shows that she has not forgotten Simiti, 
 Padre, by sending you here," said Don Mario, when they were 
 seated in the shade of the ample patio. 
 
 Jose knew the Alcalde was sounding him. "Yes, friend," 
 with just a trace of amusement in his voice. "It was doubtless 
 because of the Virgin that I was directed here," he replied, 
 thinking of Carmen. 
 
 "Excellent advice that you gave the people. Padre; but it 
 is not likely they understood you, poor fools! Now if Padre 
 Diego had been preaching he would have ranted like a wind- 
 storm; but -he would have made an impression. I am afraid 
 soft words will not sink into their thick skulls." 
 
 Dinner was served in the open, during which the Alcalde 
 chattered volubly. 
 
 "Don Rosendo returns soon?" he finally ventured. Jose 
 knew that for some time he had been edging toward the ques- 
 tion. 
 
 "Quien sabe, senor!" replied the priest, with a careless 
 shrug of his shoulders. 
 
 "But— Caramba/ he is old to prospect for gold — and alone, 
 too!" Don Mario eyed Jose sharply. 
 
 "Ah, you priests!" he burst out laughing. "You are all 
 alike when it comes to money. Padre Diego was up to the 
 same schemes; and before he left he had a hat full of titles to 
 mines." 
 
 "But I am not seeking to acquire mineral property!" ex- 
 claimed Jose with some aspersion. 
 
 "No? Then you had nothing to do with Rosendo's trip?" 
 
 Jose kept silence. 
 
 "Na, Padre, let us be confidential," said the Alcalde, hitch- 
 ing his chair closer to the priest. "Look, I understand why 
 Rosendo went into the Guamoco country — but you can trust 
 
 80 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 me to say nothing about it. Only, Padre, if he should find the 
 mine he will have trouble enough to hold it. But I can help 
 you both. You know the denouncement papers must go 
 through my hands, and I send them to Cartagena for registra- 
 tion." 
 
 He sat back in his chair with a knowing look. 
 
 "There is only one man here to be afraid of," he resumed; 
 "and that is Don Felipe Alcozer; although he may never return 
 to Simiti." He reflected a few moments. Then : 
 
 "Now, Padre, let us have some understanding about inter- 
 ests in the mine, should Rosendo find it. The mine will be 
 useless to us unless we work it, for there is no one to buy it 
 from us. To work it, we must have a stamp-mill, or arrastras. 
 The Antioquanians are skilled in the making of wooden stamp- 
 mills; but one would cost perhaps two thousand pesos oro. 
 Nobody here can furnish so much money but Don Felipe. I 
 will arrange with him for a suitable interest. And I will fix 
 all the papers so that the title will be held by us three. Ro- 
 sendo is only a peon. You can pay him for his trouble, and 
 he need not have an interest." 
 
 Jose breathed easier while this recital was in progress. So 
 Don Mario believed Rosendo to have gone in search of the lost 
 mine. La Libertad! Good; for Cartagena would soon get the 
 report, and his own tenure of the parish would be rendered 
 doubly sure thereby. The monthly greasing of Wenceslas' 
 palm with what Rosendo might extract from the Guamoco 
 sands, coupled with the belief that Jose was maintaining a man 
 in the field in search of Don Ignacio's lost mine, rendered 
 Cartagena's interference a very remote contingency. He almost 
 laughed as he replied: 
 
 "Rosendo will doubtless prospect for some months, Don 
 Mario, and I am sure we shall have plenty of time to discuss 
 any arrangement of interests later, should occasion arise. But 
 this is the Sabbath day. So let us not talk business any 
 further." 
 
 When the afternoon heat began to wane, Josd left the 
 Alcalde and returned to his cottage. Since the service of the 
 morning he had been fighting a constantly deepening sense of 
 depression. An awful loneliness now gripped his heart, and, 
 dank gloom was again sweeping through the corridors of his 
 soul. God, what a sacrifice, to remain buried in that dismal 
 town! His continuance in the priesthood of an abjured faith 
 was violative of every principle of honesty! The time would 
 come when the mask of hypocrisy would have to be raised, 
 and the resultant exposure would be worse then than open 
 apostasy now! 
 
 81 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 He entered his dreary little abode and threw himself upon 
 a chair. There had been no reaction like this for days. He 
 looked out into the deserted street. Mud hovels; ragged, 
 thatched roofs; lowly peones drowsing away life's little hour 
 within! There was scarcely a book in the town. Few of its 
 inhabitants could even read or write. Culture, education, re- 
 finement — all wanting. Nothing but primal existence — the 
 barest necessities of real life. He could not stand it! He had 
 been a fool all his years! He would throw everything to the 
 winds and go out into the world to live his life as it had been 
 intended he should live it. He would send his resignation to 
 the Bishop to-morrow. Then he would hire Juan to take him 
 to Bodega Central; and the few pesos he had left would get 
 him to Barra'nquilla. There he would work until he had earned 
 enough for his passage to the great States up north, of which 
 the explorer had told such wonderful tales. Once there, he 
 could teach, or — 
 
 His thought turned to Rosendo. He saw him, bent with 
 age, and wearied with toil, alone in the awful solitude of the 
 jungle, standing knee deep in the cold mountain water, while 
 from early dawn till sunset he incessantly swung the heavy 
 batea to concentrate the few flakes of precious gold it might 
 contain. And the old man was facing years of just such lone- 
 liness and heavy toil — facing them gladly. 
 
 He thought of Carmen. Was she worth such sacrifice as he 
 and Rosendo were making? God forgive him! Yes — a thou- 
 sand times yes! If he betrayed Rosendo's confidence and fled 
 like a coward now, leaving her to fall into the sooty hands of 
 men like Padre Diego, to be crushed, warped, and squeezed 
 into the molds of Holy Church, could he ever again face hisi 
 fellow-men? 
 
 He jumped to his feet. "Get thee behind me, Satan!" he 
 cried in a voice that echoed through the barren rooms. He 
 smote his chest and paced the floor. Then he stopped still. 
 He heard Carmen's voice again. It was the same simple 
 melody she had sung the day he awoke from his fever. He 
 stood listening. His eyes filled. Then — 
 
 "Love took up the harp of life, and smote on all the chords 
 with might. 
 Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed in music 
 out of sight." 
 
 82 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 12 
 
 IN the days that followed, while at times Josd still struggled 
 desperately against the depression of his primal environ- 
 ment, and against its insidious suggestions of license. Car- 
 men moved before him like the shechinah of Israel, symbolizr 
 ing the divine presence. When the dark hours came and his 
 pronounced egoism bade fair to overwhelm him; when his self- 
 centered thought clung with the tenacity of a limpet to his 
 dreary surroundings and his unfilled longings; when self-con- 
 demnation and self-pity rived his soul, and despair of solving 
 life's intricate problems settled again like a pall upon him, he 
 turned to her. Under the soft influence of her instinct for 
 primitive good, he was learning, even if slowly, to jettison his 
 heavily laden soul, and day by day to ride the tossing waves 
 of his stormy thought with a lighter cargo. Her simple faith 
 in immanent good was working upon his mind like a spiritual 
 catharsis, to purge it of its clogging beliefs. Her unselfed love 
 flowed over him like heavenly balm, salving the bleeding 
 wounds of the spiritual mayhem which he had suffered at 
 the violent hands of Holy Church's worldly agents. 
 
 Carmen's days were filled to the brim with a measure of 
 joy that constantly overflowed upon all among whom she moved. 
 Her slight dependence upon her impoverished material en- 
 vironment, her contempt of its ennui, were constant reminders 
 to Jose that heaven is but a state of mind. Even in desolate 
 Simiti, life to her was an endless series of delightful expe- 
 riences, of wonderful surprises in the discovery of God's pres- 
 ence everywhere. Her enthusiasms were always ardent and 
 inexhaustible. Sparkling animation and abounding vitality 
 characterized her every movement. Her thought was free, un- 
 strained, natural, and untrammeled by those inherited and 
 educated beliefs in evil in which Jose had early been so com- 
 pletely swamped. In worldly knowledge she was the purest 
 novice; and the engaging naivete with which she met the 
 priest's explanations of historical events and the motives from 
 which they sprang charmed him beyond measure, and made 
 his work with her a constant delight. Her sense of humor was 
 keen, and her merriment when his recitals touched her risi- 
 bility was extravagant. She laughed at danger, laughed at the 
 weaknesses and foibles of men, when he told of the political 
 and social ambitions which stirred mankind in the outside 
 world. But he knew that Tier merriment proceeded not from an 
 ephemeral sense of the ludicrous, but from a righteous ap- 
 
 83 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 praisal of the folly and littleness of those things for which 
 the world so sorely strives. 
 
 And daily the little maid wrapped herself about his heart. 
 Daily her wondrous love coiled its soft folds tighter around 
 him, squeezing from his atrabilious soul, drop by drop, its 
 sad taciturnity and inherent morbidness, that it might later fill 
 his empty life with a spiritual richness which he had never 
 known before. 
 
 On the day following the opening of the church Carmen 
 had asked many questions. It was the first religious service 
 she had ever voluntarily attended. To her former queries re- 
 garding the function of the church edifice, Rosendo had vouch- 
 safed but one reply: it was the house of God, and in it the 
 people used to gather to learn of Him. But she protested that 
 she had no need of the musty, ramshackle, barn-like old 
 building as a locus in which to center her thought upon God. 
 She walked with Him, and she much preferred the bright, 
 sunlit out-of-doors in which to commune with Him. Jos6 ex- 
 plained the need of a central gathering place as a shelter from 
 the hot sun. But the images — the pictures of Saints and 
 Virgin — and the Mass itself? 
 
 "They are what the people are accustomed to, dear child, 
 to direct their thought toward God," he explained. "And we 
 will use them until we can teach them something better." He 
 had omitted from the church service as far as possible the 
 collects and all invocations addressed to the Virgin and the 
 Saints, and had rendered it short and extremely simple. Car- 
 men seemed satisfied with his explanation, and with his in- 
 sistence that, for the sake of appearalnce, she attend the Sun- 
 day services. He would trust her God to guide them both. 
 
 The days sped by silently and swiftly. Jose and the child 
 dwelt together apart from the world, in a universe purely 
 mental. As he taught her, she hung upon his every word, and 
 seized the proffered tutelage with avidity. Often, after the 
 day's work, Jose, in his customary strolls about the little town, 
 would come across the girl in the doorway, of a neighboring 
 house, with a group of wide-eyed youngsters about her, re- 
 lating again the wonder-tales which she had gathered from 
 him. Marvelous tales they were, too, of knight and hidalgo, 
 of court and camp, of fairies, pyxies, gnomes and sprites, of 
 mossy legend and historic fact, bubbling from the girl's child- 
 ish lips with an engaging naivetd of interpretation that held the 
 man enchanted. Even the schoolmaster, who had besought 
 Jos6 in vain to turn Carmen over to him, was often a spell- 
 bound listener at these little gatherings. 
 
 The result was that in a short time a delegation, headed 
 
 84 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 by the Alcalde himself, waited upon Jos6 and begged him to 
 lecture to the people of Simiti in the church building at least 
 two or three evenings a week upon places and people he had 
 seen in the great world of which they knew nothing. Josh's 
 eyes were moist as he looked at the great, brawny men, stout 
 of heart, but simple as children. He grieved to give up his 
 evenings, for he had formed the habit of late of devoting them 
 to the study of his Bible, and to meditation on those ideas 
 which had so recently come to him. But the appeal from these 
 innocent, untutored people again quenched the thought of 
 self, and he bade them be assured that their request was 
 granted. 
 
 The new ideas which had found entrance into Jose's liber- 
 ated mentality in the past few days had formed a basis on 
 which he was not afraid to stand while teaching Carmen; and 
 his entire instruction was thenceforth colored by them. He 
 knew not why, in all the preceding years, such ideas had not 
 come to him before. But he was to learn, some day, that his 
 previous tenacious clinging to evil as a reality, together with 
 his material beliefs and his worldly intellectuality, had stood 
 as barriers at the portajs of his thought, and kept the truth 
 from entering. His niind had been already full — ^but its con- 
 tents were unbelief, fear, the conviction of evil as real and 
 operative, and the failure to know God as immanent, omnipo- 
 tent and perfect mind, to whom evil is forever unknown and 
 unreal. Pride, egoism, and his morbid sense of honesty had 
 added their portion to the already impassable obstruction at 
 the gateway of his thought. And so the error had been kept 
 within, the good without. The "power of the Lord" had not 
 been absent; but it had remained unapplied. Thus he had 
 wandered through the desolate wilderness; but yet sustained 
 and kept alive, that he should not go down to the pit. 
 
 Jose's days were now so crowded that he was forced to 
 borrow heavily from the night. The Alcalde continued his 
 unctuous flattery, and the priest, in turn, cultivated him assidu- 
 ously. To that official's query as to the restitution of the con- 
 fessional in the church, the priest replied that he could spare 
 time to hear only such confessions from his flock as might be 
 necessary to elicit from him the advice or assistance requisite 
 for their needs. He was there to help them solve their life 
 problems, not to pry into their sacred secrets; and their con- 
 fessions must relate only to their necessities. 
 
 The Alcalde went away with a puzzled look. Of a truth a 
 new sort of priest had now to be reckoned with in Simiti — a 
 very different sort from Padre Diego. 
 
 In the first days of Jos6's incumbency he found many seri- 
 
 85 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ous matters to adjust. He had learned from Rosendo that 
 not half the residents of Simiti were married to the consorts 
 with whom they lived, and that many of the children who 
 played in the streets did not know who their fathers were. So 
 prevalent was this evil condition that the custom among the 
 men of having their initials embroidered upon the bosoms of 
 their shirts was extended to include the initial of the mother's 
 family name. Jose had questioned Rosendo as to the meaning 
 of the letters R. A. S. upon his shirt. 
 
 "The S, Padre, is the initial of my mother's family name. 
 I am Rosendo Ariza, son of the daughter of Saurez. My 
 parents were married by a priest. But half the people of 
 Simiti have never been really married." 
 
 Jose sought the cause of this dereliction. Fidel Avila was 
 living with a woman, by whom he had three children. The 
 priest summoned him to the parish house. 
 
 "Fidel," he questioned sternly, "Jacinta, the woman you 
 live with, is your wife?" 
 
 "Yes, Senor Padre." 
 
 "And you were married by the Church?" 
 
 "No, Padre." 
 
 "But was there a priest here when you began to live with 
 Jacinta?" 
 
 "Yes, Padre. The Cura, Don Diego Polo, was here." 
 
 "Then why were you not married by him? Do you not 
 know how wicked it is to live as you are doing? Think of 
 your children!" 
 
 "Yes, Padre, and I asked the Cura, Don Diego, to marry 
 us. But he charged twenty pesos oro for doing it; and I could 
 not afford it. I loved Jacinta. And so we decided to live to- 
 gether without the marriage." 
 
 "But — !" Jose stopped. He knew that the Church recog- 
 nized no marriage unless it were performed by a priest. The 
 civil magistrate had no jurisdiction in such a case. And a 
 former priest's rapacity had resulted in forcing illegitimacy 
 upon half the children of this benighted hamlet, because of 
 their parents' inability to afford the luxury of a canonical 
 marriage. 
 
 "Fidel, were your father and mother married?" he asked 
 in kinder tones. 
 
 "I do not know. Padre. Only a few people in Guamoco can 
 afford to pay to be married. The men and women live to- 
 gether, perhaps for all time, perhaps for only a few months. 
 If a man wishes to leave his woman and live with another, he 
 does so. If there are children, the woman always has to keep 
 and care for them." 
 
 86 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "And could you leave Jacinta if you wished, and live with 
 another woman?" 
 
 "Yes, Padre." 
 
 "And she would have to take care of your children?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And all because you are not married?" 
 
 "I think so. Padre." 
 
 "Hombre! But that will do, Fidel." 
 
 Oh, the sordid greed of those who abuse their sacred com- 
 mission! What punishment is mete for such as exploit these 
 lowly folk in the name of religion! Jose strbde off to consult 
 the Alcalde. 
 
 "Don Mario, the men in Simiti who are living with women 
 have got to be married to them ! It is shameful ! I shall make 
 a canvass of the town at once!" 
 
 The Alcalde laughed. "Costumbre, Padre. You can't 
 change it." 
 
 Costumbre del pais! It is a final answer all through South 
 America. No matter how unreasonable a thing may be, if it 
 is the custom of the country it is a Medean law. 
 
 "But you know this is subversive of Church discipline!" 
 Jose retorted warmly. "Look you, Don Mario," he added sug- 
 gestively, "you and I are to work together, are we not?" 
 
 The Alcalde blinked his pig eyes, but thought hard about 
 La Libertad. "Cierto, Senor Padre!" he hastened to exclaim. 
 
 "Then I demand that you summon before me every man 
 and woman who are living together unmarried." 
 
 With a thought single to his own future advantage, the 
 wary Alcalde complied. Within the week following this inter- 
 view Jose married twenty couples, and without charge. Some 
 offered him a few pesos. These he took and immediately 
 turned over to Don Mario as treasurer of the parish. Those 
 couples who refused to be married were forced by the Alcalde 
 to separate. But of these there were few. Among them was 
 one Julio Gomez. Packing his few household effects upon his 
 back, and muttering imprecations against the priest, Gomez 
 set out for the hills, still followed by his woman, with a babe 
 slung over her shoulders and two naked children toddling at 
 her bare heels. 
 
 Verily, the ancient town was being profoundly stirred by 
 the man who had sought to find his tomb there. Gradually the 
 people lost their suspicions and distrust, bred of former bitter 
 experience with priests, and joined heartily with Jose to 
 ameliorate the social status of the place. His sincere love for 
 them, and his utter selflessness, secured their confidence, and 
 ere his first month among them closed, he had won them, 
 almost to a man. 
 
 87 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Meantime, six weeks had passed since Rosendo had departed 
 to take up his lonely task of self-renouncing love. Then one 
 day he returned, worn and emaciated, his great frame shaking 
 like a withered leaf in a chill blast. 
 
 "It is the terciana, Padre," he said, as he sank shuddering 
 upon his bed. "It comes every third day. I went as far as 
 Tachi — fifty leagues from Simiti — and there the fever over- 
 took me. I have been eight days coming back; and day before 
 yesterday I ran out of food. Last evening I found a wild melon 
 at the side of the trail. A coral snake struck at me when I 
 reached for it, but he hit my machete instead. Caramba!" 
 
 Jose pressed his wet hand, while Dofia Maria laid damp 
 cloths upon his burning forehead. 
 
 "The streams are washed out. Padre," Rosendo continued 
 sadly. "I worked at Colorado, Popales, and Tambora. But I 
 got no more than five pesos worth. And that will not pay for 
 half of my supplies. It is there in a little bag," pointing to 
 his soaked and muddy kit. 
 
 Jose's heart was wrung by the suffering and disappoint- 
 ment of the old man. Sadly he carried the little handful of 
 gold flakes to Don Mario, and then returned to the exhausted 
 Rosendo. 
 
 All through the night the sick man tossed and moaned. By 
 morning he was delirious. Then Jose and Doiia Maria be- 
 came genuinely alarmed. The toil and exposure had been too 
 much for Rosendo at his advanced age. In his delirium he 
 talked brokenly of the swamps through which he had floun- 
 dered, for he had taken the trail in the wet season, and fully 
 half of its one hundred and fifty miles of length was oozy 
 and all but impassable bog. 
 
 By afternoon the fever had greatly increased. Don Mario 
 shook his head as he stood over him. 
 
 "I have seen many in that condition. Padre, and they didn't 
 wake up ! If we had quinine, perhaps he might be saved. But 
 there isn't a flake in the town," 
 
 "Then send Juan to Bodega Central at once for it!" cried 
 Jose, wild with apprehension. 
 
 "I doubt if he would find it there either. Padre. But we 
 can try. However, Juan cannot make the trip in less than two 
 days. And I fear Rosendo will not last that long." 
 
 Dona Maria sat by the bedside, dumb with grief. Jose 
 wrung his hands in despair. The day drew slowly to a close. 
 The Alcalde had dispatched Juan down to the river to signal 
 any steamer that he should meet, if perchance he might pur- 
 chase a few grains of the only drug that could save the sick 
 man. Carmen had absented herself during the day; but she 
 
 88 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 returned in time to assist Doiia Maria with the evening meal, 
 after which she went at once to her bed. 
 
 Late at night, when the sympathizing townsmen had sor- 
 rowfully departed and Josd had induced Dona Maria to seek a 
 few moments rest on her petate in the living room, Carmen 
 climbed quietly out of her bed and came to where the priest 
 sat alone with the unconscious Rosendo. 
 
 Jose was bending over the delirious man. "Oh, if Jesus 
 were only here now!" he murmured. 
 
 "Padre dear." 
 
 Jose looked down into the little face beside him. 
 
 "People don't die, you know. They don't really die." The 
 little head shook as if to emphasize the words. 
 
 Jose was startled. But he put his arm about the child and 
 drew her to him. "Chiquita, why do you say that?" he asked 
 sorrowfully. 
 
 "Because Go.d doesn't die, you know," she quickly replied. 
 "And we are like Him, Padre, aren't we?" 
 
 "But He calls us to him, chiquita. And — I guess — He is — 
 is calling your padre Rosendo now." 
 
 Does God kill mankind in order to give them life? Is that 
 His way? Death denies God, eternal Life. And — 
 
 "Why, no. Padre," returned the innocent child. "He is 
 always here; and we are always with Him, you know. He can 
 not call people away from where He is, can He?" 
 
 Lo, I am with you alway, even to the end of the world. The 
 Christ-principle, the saving truth about God and man, is ever 
 present in an uncomprehending world. 
 
 Jose knew that there was no material dependence now, 
 Something told him that Rosendo lay dying. There was no 
 physician, no drug, in the isolated little town. There was none 
 but God to save. And He — 
 
 But only sinners are taught by priests and preachers to 
 look to God for help. The sick are not so taught. How much 
 more deplorable, then, is their condition than that of the 
 wicked ! 
 
 "I told God out on the shales this afternoon that I just 
 knew padre Rosendo wouldn't die!" The soft, sweet voice 
 hovered on the silence like celestial melody. 
 
 // ye ask anything in my name — in my character — it shall 
 be given you. Carmen asked in the character of the sinless 
 Christ, for her asking was an assertion of what she instinc- 
 tively knew to be truth, despite the evidence of the physical 
 senses. Her petitions were affirmations of Immanuel — God 
 with us. 
 
 "Carmen," whispered the priest hoarsely, "go back to your 
 
 16 89 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 bed, and know, just know that God is here! Know that He 
 did not make padre Rosendo sick, and that He will not let him 
 die! Know it for him — and for me!" 
 
 "Why, Padre, I know that now!" The child looked up 
 into the priest's face with her luminous eyes radiating un- 
 shaken trust — a trust that seemed born of understanding. Yea, 
 she knew that all good was there, for God is omnipotent. They 
 had but to stretch forth their hands to touch the robe of His 
 Christ. The healing principle which cleansed the lepers and 
 raised the dead was even with them there in that quiet room. 
 Jose had only to realize it, nothing doubting. Carmen had done 
 her work, and her mind now was stayed on Him. Infinite In- 
 telligence did not know Rosendo as Jose was trying to know 
 him, sick and dying. God is Life — and there is no death! 
 
 Carmen was again asleep. Jose sat alone, his open Bible be- 
 fore him and his thought with his God. 
 
 Oh, for even a slight conception of Him whois Life! Moses 
 worked "as seeing Him who is invisible." Carmen lived with 
 her eyes on Him, despite her dreary mundane encom- 
 passment. And Jose, as he sat there throughout the watches of 
 the night, facing the black terror, was striving to pierce the 
 mist which had gone up. from the face of the ground and was 
 separating him from his God. Through the long, dark hours, 
 with the quiet of death upon the desolate chamber, he sat 
 mute before the veil that was "still untaken away." 
 
 What was it that kept telling him that Rosendo lay dying 
 before him? Does matter talk? Did the serpent talk to Eve? 
 Do fleshly nerves and frail bodily organs converse with men? 
 Can the externalization of thought report back to the thought 
 itself? Nay, the report came to him from the physical senses — 
 naught else. And they reported — nothing ! He was seeing but 
 his own thoughts of mixed good and evil. And they were 
 false, because they testified against God. 
 
 Surely God knew Rosendo. But not as the physical senses 
 were trying to make Jose know him, sick and dying. Surely 
 the subjective determines the objective; for as we think, so are 
 we — the Christ said that. From his human standpoint Jose 
 was seeing his thoughts of a dying mortal. And now he was 
 trying to know that those thoughts did not come from God- 
 that they had no authority back of them — that they were 
 children of the "one lie" about God — that they were false, 
 false as hell, and therefore impotent and unreal. 
 
 What, then, had he to fear? Nothing, for truth is beyond 
 the reach of personal sense. So God and His ideas, reflected by 
 the real Rosendo, were beyond the reach of evil. 
 
 If this were true, then he must clear his own mentality — 
 
 90 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 even as he now knew Carmen had done out on the shales that 
 afternoon. He was no longer dealing with a material Rosendo, 
 but with false beliefs about a son of God. He was handling 
 mental concepts. And to the serpent, error, he was trying to 
 say: "What is your authority?" 
 
 If man lives, he never dies. If man is, then he always has 
 been. And he was never born — and never passes into oblivion. 
 A fact never changes. If two and two make four to-day, they 
 always have done so, and always will. 
 
 Can good produce evil? Then evil can have no creator. 
 Rosendo, when moved by good, had gone into the wilds of 
 Guamoc6 on a mission of love. Did evil have power to smite 
 him for his noble sacrifice? 
 
 What is this human life of ours? Real existence? No, but 
 a sense of existence — and a false sense, for it postulates a god 
 of evil opposed to the one supreme Creator of all that really is. 
 Then the testimony that said Rosendo must die was cruelly 
 false. And, more, it was powerless — unless Jose himself gave 
 it power. 
 
 Did Carmen know that? Had she so reasoned? Assuredly 
 no! But she knew God as Jose had never known Him. And, 
 despite the testimony of the fleshly eyes, she had turned from 
 physical sense to Him. 
 
 "It is not practicable!" the world cries in startled protest. 
 
 But, behold her life! 
 
 Jose had begun to see that discord was the result of un- 
 righteousness, false thought. He began to understand why it 
 was that Jesus always linked disease with sin. His own para- 
 doxical career had furnished ample proof of that. Yet his 
 numberless tribulations were not due solely to his own wrong 
 thinking, but likewise to the wrong thought of others with re- 
 spect to him, thought which he knew not how to neutralize. 
 And the channels for this false, malicious, carnal thought had 
 been his beloved parents, his uncle, the Archbishop, his tutors, 
 and, in fact, all with whom he had been associated until he 
 came to Simiti. There he had found Carmen. And there the 
 false thought had met a check, a reversal. The evil had begun 
 to destroy itself. And he was slowly awaking to find nothing 
 but good. 
 
 The night hours flitted through the heavy gloom like spec- 
 tral acolytes. Rosendo sank into a deep sleep. The steady roll 
 of the frogs in the lake at length died away. A flush stole tim- 
 idly across the eastern sky. 
 
 "Padre dear, he will not die." 
 
 It was Carmen's voice that awoke the slumbering priest. 
 The child stood at his side, and her little hand clasped his. 
 
 91 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Rosendo slept. His chest rose and fell with the rhythmic 
 breathing. Jose looked down upon him. A great lump came 
 into ,his throat, and his voice trembled as he spoke. 
 
 "You are right, ehiquita. Go, call your madre Maria now, 
 and I will go home to rest." 
 
 CHAPTER 13 
 
 THAT day Rosendo left his bed. Two days later he again 
 set out for Guamoco. 
 "There is gold there, and I must, I will find it!" he 
 repeatedly exclaimed as he pushed his preparations. 
 
 The courage of the man was magnificent. On its rebound 
 it carried him over the protest of Dofia Maria and the gloomy 
 forebodings of his fellow-townsmen, and launched him again on 
 the desolate trail. 
 
 But Jose had uttered no protest. He moved about wrapped 
 in undefinable awe. For he believed he had seen Rosendo 
 lifted from the bed of death. And no one might tell him that 
 it was not by the same power that long ago had raised the dead 
 man of Nain. Carmen had not spoken of the incident again; 
 and something laid a restraint upon Jose's lips. 
 
 The eyes of the Alcalde bulged with astonishment when 
 Rosendo entered his store that morning in quest of further sup- 
 plies. 
 
 "Caramba! Go back to your bed, compadre!" he exclaimed, 
 bounding from his chair. "You are walking in your delirium!" 
 
 "Na, amigo," replied Rosendo with a smile, "the fever has 
 left me. And now I must have another month's supplies, for 
 I go back to Guamoco as soon as my legs tremble less." 
 
 "Caramba! caramba!" 
 
 The Alcalde acted as if he were in the presence of a ghost. 
 But at length becoming convinced that Rosendo was there on 
 matters of business, and in his right mind, he checked further 
 expression of wonder and, with a shrug of his fat shoulders, 
 assumed his wonted air of a man of large affairs., 
 
 "I can allow you five pesos oro on account of the gold which 
 the Cura brought me yesterday," he said severely. "But that 
 leaves you still owing ten pesos for your first supplies; and 
 thirty if I give you what you ask for now. If you cannot pay 
 this amount when you return, you will have to work it out for 
 me. 
 
 His little eyes grew steely and cold. Rosendo well knew 
 what the threat implied. But he did not falter. 
 
 92 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Bien, compadre," he quietly replied, "it will be as you 
 say." 
 
 Late that afternoon Juan returned from Bodega Central 
 with a half ounce of quinine. He had made the trip with 
 astonishing celerity, and had arrived at the riverine town just 
 as a large steamer was docking. The purser supplied him 
 with the drug, and he immediately started on his return. 
 
 The Alcalde set out to deliver the drug to Rosendo; but not 
 finding him at home, looked in at the parish house. Jose and 
 Carmen were deep in their studies. 
 
 "A thousand pardons, Senor Padre, but I have the medicine- 
 you ordered for Rosendo," placing the small package upon the 
 table. 
 
 "You may set it down against me, Don Mario," said Jose. 
 
 "No!" exclaimed the Alcalde, "this must not be charged to 
 the parish!" 
 
 "I said to me, amigo," replied the priest firmly. 
 
 "It is the same thing. Padre!" blurted the petty merchant. 
 
 The priest's anger began to rise, but he restrained it. "Padre 
 Diego is no longer here, you must remember," he said quietly. 
 
 "But the parish pays your debts; and it would not pay the 
 full value of this and Juan's trip," was the coarse retort. 
 
 "Very well, then, Don Mario," answered Jose. "You may 
 charge it to Rosendo. But tell me first how much you will 
 place against him for it." 
 
 The Alcalde reflected a moment. "The quinine will be five 
 pesos oro, and Juan's trip three additional. Is it not worth 
 it?" he demanded, blustering before Jose's steady gaze. "If 
 Rosendo had been really sick it would have saved his life!" 
 
 "Then you do not believe he was dangerously ill?" asked 
 Jose with some curiosity, 
 
 "He couldn't have been really sick and be around to-day — 
 could he?" the Alcalde demanded. 
 
 The priest glanced at Carmen. She met the look with a 
 smile. 
 
 "No," he said slowly, "not really sick." Then he quickly 
 added : 
 
 "If you charge Rosendo eight pesos for that bit of quinine, 
 Don Mario, you and I are no longer working together, for I do 
 not take base advantage of any man's necessities." 
 
 The Alcalde became confused. He was going too far. "Na, 
 Senor Padre," he said hastily, with a sheepish gria. "I will 
 leave the quinine with you, and do you settle the account with 
 Juan." With which he beat a disordered retreat. 
 
 Jose was thankful that, for a few months, at least, he would 
 have a powerful hold on this man through his rapacity. What 
 
 93 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 would happen when the Alcalde at length learned that Rosendo 
 was not searching for Don Ignacio's lost mine, he did not care 
 to conjecture. That matter was in other hands than his, and he 
 was glad to leave it there. He asked now only to see each 
 single step as he progressed. 
 
 "Did Don Mario say that stuff would cure padre Rosendo?" 
 asked Carmen, pointing to the quinine. 
 
 "Yes, chiquita." 
 
 "Why did he say so. Padre?" 
 
 "Because he really believed it, carita." 
 
 "But what is it. Padre— and how can it cure sick people?" 
 
 "It is the bark of a certain tree, little one, that people take 
 as medicine. It is a sort of poison which people take to coun- 
 teract another poison. A great school of medicine is founded 
 upon that principle. Carmen," he added. And then he fell to 
 wondering if it really was a principle, after all. If so, it was 
 evil overcoming evil. But would the world believe that both 
 he and Rosendo had been cured by — what? Faith? True 
 prayer? By the operation of a great, almost unknown prin- 
 ciple? Or would it scoff at such an idea? 
 
 But what cared he for that? He saw himself and Rosendo 
 restored, and that was enough. He turned to the child. "They 
 think the quinine cures fever, little one," he resumed. 
 
 "And does it?" The little face wore an anxious look as she 
 put the question. 
 
 "They think it does, chiquita," replied the priest, wondering 
 what he should say. 
 
 "But it is just because they think so that they get well, 
 isn't it?" the girl continued. 
 
 "I guess it is, child." 
 
 "And if they thought right they would be cured without 
 this— r^is it not so. Padre dear?" 
 
 "I am sure of it — now," replied the priest. "In fact, if they 
 always kept their thoughts right I am sure they would never 
 be sick." 
 
 "You mean, if they always thought about God," the child 
 amended. 
 
 "Yes— I mean just that. If they knew, really knew, that 
 God is everywhere, that He is good, and that He never makes 
 people sick, they would always be well." 
 
 "Of course. Padre. It is only their bad thoughts that make 
 them sick. And even then they are not really sick," the child 
 concluded. "They think they are, and they think they die— 
 and then they wake up and find it isn't so at all." 
 
 Had the child made this remark to him a few weeks before, 
 he had crushed it with the dull, lifeless, conventional formulae 
 
 94 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 of human belief. To-day in penitent humility he was trying to 
 walk hand in hand with her the path she trod. For he was 
 learning from her that righteousness is salvation. A few weeks 
 ago he had lain at death's door, yearning to pass the portal. 
 Yesterday he believed he had again seen the dark angel, hover- 
 ing over the stricken Rosendo. But in each case something had 
 intervened. Perhaps that "something not ourselves that makes 
 for righteousness," the unknown, almost unacknowledged force 
 that ceases not to combat evil in the human consciousness. 
 Clinging to his petty egoisms; hugging close his shabby con- 
 victions of an evil power opposed to God; stuffed with worldly 
 learning and pride of race and intellect, in due season, as he 
 sank under the burden of his imaginings, the veil had been 
 drawn aside for a fleeting moment — and his soul had frozen 
 with awe at what it beheld! 
 
 For, back of the density of the human concept, the fleeting, 
 inexplicable medley of good and evil which constitutes the 
 phenomenon of mortal existence, he had seen God! He had 
 seen Him as all-inclusive mind, omnipotent, immanent, perfect, 
 eternal. He had caught a moment's glimpse of the tremendous 
 Presence which holds all wisdom, all knowledge, yet knows no 
 evil. He had seen a blinding flash of that "something" toward 
 which his life had strained and yearned. With it had come a 
 dim perception of the falsity of the testimony of physical sense, 
 and the human life that is reared upon it. And though he 
 counted not himself to have apprehended as yet, he was strug- 
 gling, even with thanksgiving, up out of his bondage, toward 
 the gleam. The shafts of error hissed about him, and black 
 doubt and chill despair still felled him with their awful blows. 
 But he walked with Carmen. With his hand in hers, he knew 
 he was journeying toward God. 
 
 On the afternoon before his departure Rosendo entered the 
 parish house in apprehension. "I have lost my escapulario, 
 Padre!" he exclaimed. "The string caught in the brush', and 
 the whole thing was torn from my neck. 1 — I don't like to go 
 back without one," he added dubiously, 
 
 "Ah, then you have nothing left but Christ," replied Jose 
 with fine irony. "Well, it is of no consequence." 
 
 "But, Padre, it had been blessed by the Bishop!" 
 
 "Well, don't worry. Why, the Holy Father himself once 
 blessed this republic of ours, and now it is about the most un- 
 fortunate country in the whole world! But you are a good 
 Catholic, Rosendo, so you need not fear." 
 
 Rosendo was, indeed, a good Catholic. He accepted the 
 faith of his fathers without reserve. He had never known any 
 other. Simple, superstitious, and great of heart, he held with 
 
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CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 rigid credulity to all that had been taught him in the name of 
 religion. But until Jose's advent he had feared and hated 
 priests. Nevertheless, his faith in signs and miracles and the 
 healing power of blessed images was child-like. Once when 
 he saw in the store of Don Mario a colored chromo of Venus 
 and Cupid, a cheap print that had come with goods imported 
 from abroad, he had devoutly crossed himself, believing it to 
 be the Virgin Mary with the Christ-child. 
 
 "But I will fix you up, Rosendo," said Jose, noting the man's 
 genuine anxiety. "Have Dona Maria cut out a cloth heart and 
 fasten it to a stout cord. I will take it to the church altar and 
 bless it before the image of the Virgin. You told me once that 
 the Virgin was the Rinc6n family's patron, you know." 
 
 "Bueno!" ejaculated the pleased Rosendo, as he hastened 
 off to execute the commission. 
 
 Several times before Rosendo went back to Guamoc6 Jose 
 had sought to draw him into conversation about his illness, and 
 to get his view of the probable cause of his rapid recovery. 
 But the old man seemed loath to dwell on the topic, and Jos6 
 could get little from him. At any mention of the episode a 
 troubled look would come over his face, and he would fall 
 silent, or would find an excuse to leave the presence of the 
 priest. 
 
 "Rosendo," Jos6 abruptly remarked to him as he was busy 
 with his pack late the night before his departure, "will you 
 take with you the quinine that Juan brought?" 
 
 Rosendo looked up quickly. "I can not. Padre." 
 
 "And why?" 
 
 "On account of Carmen." 
 
 "But what has she to do with it, amigo?" Jose asked in 
 surprise. 
 
 Rosendo looked embarrassed. "I — Bien, Padre, I promised 
 her I would not." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "To-day, Padre." 
 
 Jos6 reflected on the child's unusual request. Then: 
 
 "But if you fell sick up in Guamoco, Rosendo, what could 
 you do?" 
 
 "Quien sabe, Padre! Perhaps I could gather herbs and 
 make a tea — I don't know. She didn't say anything about 
 that." He looked at Jose and laughed. Then, in an anxious 
 tone : 
 
 "Padre, what can I do? The little Carmen asks me hot to 
 take the quinine, and I can not refuse her. But I may get sick. 
 I — I have always taken medicine when I needed it and could 
 get it. But the only medicine we have ih Simiti is the stuff 
 
 96 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 that some of the women make — teas and drinks brewed from 
 roots and bark. I have never seen a doctor here, nor any real 
 medicines but quinine. And even that is hard to get, as you 
 know. I used to make a salve out of the livers of mdpina 
 snakes — it was for the rheumatism — I suffered terribly when 
 I worked in the cold waters in Guamoco. I think the salve 
 helped me. But if I should get the disease now, would Carmen 
 let me make the salve again?" 
 
 He bent over his outfit for some moments. "She says if I 
 trust God I will not get sick," he at length resumed. "She says 
 I must not think about it. Carambal What has that to do 
 with it? People get sick whether they think about it or not. 
 Do you believe. Padre, this new escapulario will protect me?" 
 
 The man's words reflected the strange mixture of mature 
 and: childish thought typical of these untutored jungle folk, in 
 which longing for the good is so heavily overshadowed by an 
 educated belief in the power of evil. 
 
 "Rosendo," said Jose, finding at last his opportunity, "tell 
 me, do you think you were seriously ill day before yesterday?" 
 
 "Quien sabe, Padre! Perhaps it was only the terciana, after 
 all." 
 
 "Well, then," pursuing another tack, "do you think I was 
 very sick that day when I rushed to the lake — ?" 
 
 "Caramba, Padre! But you were turning cold — ^you hardly 
 breathed — we all thought you must die — all but Carmen!" 
 
 "And what cured me, Rosendo?" the priest asked in a low, 
 steady voice. 
 
 "Why — Padre, I can not say." 
 
 "Nor can I, positively, my friend. But I do know that the 
 little Carmen said I should not die. And she said the same of 
 you when, as I would swear, you were in the fell clutches of 
 the death angel himself." 
 
 "Padre — " Rosendo's eyes were large, and his voice trem- 
 bled in awesome whisper — "is she — the little Carmen — is she 
 — an hada?" 
 
 "A witch? Hombre! No!" cried Jose, bursting into a 
 laugh at the perturbed features of the older man. "No, amigo, 
 she is not an hadat Let us say, rather, as you first expressed 
 it to me, she is an angel — and let us appreciate her as such. 
 
 "But," he continued, "I tell you in all seriousness, there are 
 things that such as you and I, with our limited outlook, have 
 never dreamed of; and that child seems to have penetrated the 
 veil that hides spiritual things from the material vision of men 
 like us. Let us wait, and if we value that 'something' which 
 she seems to possess and know how to use, let us cut off our 
 right hands before we yield to the temptation to place any 
 
 97 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 obstacle in the way of her development along the lines which 
 she has chosen, or which some unseen Power has chosen for 
 her. It is for you and me, Rosendo, to stand aside and watch, 
 while we protect her, if haply we may be privileged some day 
 to learn her secret in full. You and I are the unlearned, 
 while she is filled with wisdom. The world would say other- 
 wise, and would condemn us as fools. Thank God we are out 
 of the world here in Simiti!" 
 
 He choked back the inrush of memories and brushed away a 
 tear. 
 
 "Rosendo," he concluded, "be advised. If Carmen told you 
 not to think of sickness while in Guamoc6, then follow her in- 
 structions. It is not the child, but a mighty Power that is 
 speaking through her. Of that I have long been thoroughly 
 convinced. And I am as thoroughly convinced that that same 
 Power has appointed you and me her protectors and her fol- 
 lowers. You and I have a mighty compact — " 
 
 "Hombrel" interrupted Rosendo, clasping the priest's hand, 
 "my life is hers — ^you know it — she has only to speak, and I 
 obey! Is it not so?" 
 
 "Assuredly, Rosendo," returned Jos6. "And now a final 
 word. Let us keep solely to ourselves what we have learned 
 of her. Our plans are well formulated. Let us adhere to them 
 in strict silence. I know not whither we are being led. But we 
 are in the hands of that 'something' that speaks and works 
 through her — and we are satisfied. Are we not?" 
 
 They clasped hands again. The next morning Rosendo set 
 his face once more toward the emerald hills of Guamoco. 
 
 As the days passed, Jos6 became more silent and thoughtful. 
 But it was a silence bred of wonder and reverence, as he dwelt 
 upon the things that had been revealed to him. Who and what 
 was this unusual child, so human, and yet so strangely re- 
 moved from the world's plane of thought? A child who un- 
 derstood the language of the birds, and heard the grass grow — 
 a child whom Torquemada would have burnt as a witch, and 
 yet with whom he could not doubt the Christ dwelt. 
 
 Josd often studied her features while she bent over her 
 work. He spent hours, too, poring over the little locket which 
 had been found among her mother's few effects. The portrait 
 of the man was dim and soiled. Josd wondered if the poor 
 woman's kisses and tears had blurred it. The people of Badillo 
 said she had died with it pressed to her lips. But its condition 
 rendered futile all speculation in regard to its original. That 
 of the mother, however, was still fresh and clear. Jose con- 
 jectured that she must have been either wholly Spanish, or one 
 of the more refined and cultured women of Colombia. And she 
 
 98 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 had doubtless been very young and beautiful when the portrait 
 was made. With what dark tragedy was that little locket as- 
 sociated? Would it ever yield its secret? 
 
 But Carmen's brown curls and light skin — ^whence came 
 they? Were they wholly Latin? Jose had grave doubts. And 
 her keen mind, and deep religious instinct? Who knew? He 
 could only be sure that they had come from a source far, far 
 above her present lowly environment. With that much he 
 must for the present be content. 
 
 Another month unfolded its length in quiet days, and Ro- 
 sendo again returned. Not ill this time, iior even much ex- 
 hausted. Nor did the little leathern pouch contain more than 
 a few pesos in gold dust. But determination was written grim 
 and trenchant upon his black face as he strode into the parish 
 house and extended his great hand to the priest. 
 
 "I have only come for more supplies, Padre," he said. "I 
 have some three pesos worth of gold. Most of this I got around 
 Culata, near Don Felipe's quartz vein, the Andandodias. Car- 
 amba, what veins in those hills! If we had money to build a 
 mill, and knew how to catch the gold, we would not need to 
 wash the river sands that have been gone over again and again 
 for hundreds of years!" 
 
 But Jose's thoughts were of the Alcalde. He determined to 
 send for him at once, while Rosendo was removing the soil of 
 travel. 
 
 Don Mario came and estimated the weight of the gold by 
 his hand. Then he coolly remarked: "Bien, Senor Padre, I will 
 send Rosendo to my hacienda to-morrow to cut cane and make 
 panela." 
 
 "And how is that, Don Mario?" inquired Jose. 
 
 The Alcalde began to bluster. "He owes me thirty pesos 
 oro, less this, if you wish me to keep it. I see no likelihood 
 that he can ever repay me. And so he must now work out his 
 debt." 
 
 "How long will that take hiin, amigo?" 
 
 "Quien sabe? Senor Padre," the Alcalde replied, his eyes 
 narrowing. 
 
 The priest braced himself, and his face assumed an expres- 
 sion that it had not worn before he came to Simiti. "Look you 
 now, my friend," he began in tones pregnant with meaning. 
 "I have made some inquiries regarding your system of peon- 
 age. I find that you pay your peones from twenty to thirty 
 cents a day for their hard labor, and at the same time charge 
 them as much a day for food. Or you force them to buy from 
 you tobacco and rum at prices which keep them always in your 
 debt. Is it not so?" 
 
 99 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "A'a, Padre, you have been misinformed," the Alcalde de- 
 murred, with a deprecating gesture. 
 
 "I have not. Lazaro Ortiz is now working for you on that 
 system. And daily he becomes more deeply indebted to you, 
 is it not so?" 
 
 "But, Padre—" 
 
 "It is useless for you to deny it, Don Mario, for I have facts. 
 Now listen to me. Let us understand each other clearly, nor 
 attempt to dissimulate. That iniquitous system of peonage has 
 got to cease in my parish!" 
 
 "Caramba, but Padre Diego had peonesl" the Alcalde ex- 
 ploded. 
 
 "And he was a wicked man," added Jose. Then he con- 
 tinued: 
 
 "I know not what information you may have from the Bish- 
 op regarding me, yet this I tell you: I shall report you to 
 Bogota, and I will band the citizens of Simiti together to drive 
 you out of town, if you do not at once release Lazaro, and put 
 an end to this wicked practice. The people will follow if I 
 lead!" 
 
 It was a bold stroke, and the priest knew that he was stand- 
 ing upon shaky ground. But the man before him was super- 
 stitious, untutored and child-like. A show of courage, backed by 
 an assertion of authority, might produce the desired effect. 
 Moreover, Jose knew that he was in the right. And right must 
 prevail ! 
 
 Don Mario glared at him, while an ugly look spread over 
 his coarse features. The priest went on: 
 
 "Lazaro has long since worked out his debt, and you shall 
 release him at once. As to Rosendo, he must have the supplies 
 he needs to return to Guamoc6. You understand?" 
 
 "Caramba!" Don Mario's face was purple with rage. "You 
 think you can tell me what to do — me, the Alcalde!" he vol- 
 leyed. "You think you can make us change our customs! 
 Caramba! You are no better than the priest Diego, whom you 
 try to make me believe so wicked! Hombre, you were driven 
 out of Cartagena yourself! A nice sort to be teaching a little 
 girl—!" 
 
 "Stop, man!" thundered Jose, striding toward him with 
 upraised arm. 
 
 Don Mario fell back in his chair and quailed before the 
 mountainous wrath of the priest. 
 
 A shadovv fell across the open doorway. Glancing up, Josd 
 saw Carmen. For a moment the girl stood looking in wonder 
 at the angry men. Then she went quickly to the priest and 
 slipped a hand into his. A feeling of shame swept over him, 
 
 100 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 and he went back to his chair. Carmen leaned against him, 
 but she appeared to be confused. Silence fell upon them all. 
 
 "Cucumbra doesn't fight any more, Padre," the girl at length 
 began in hesitation. "He and the puppy play together all the 
 time now. He has learned a lot, and now he loves the puppy." 
 
 So had the priest learned much. He recalled the lesson. 
 "Bien," he said in soft tones, "I think we became a bit too ear- 
 nest, Don Mario. We are good friends, is it not so? And we 
 are working together for the good of Simiti. But to have good 
 come to us, we must do good to others." 
 
 He went to his trunk and took out a wallet. "Here are 
 twenty pesos, Don Mario." It was all he had in the world, but 
 he did not tell the Alcalde so. "Take them on Rosendo's ac- 
 count. Let him have the new supplies he needs, and I will be 
 his surety. And, friend, you are going to let me prove to you 
 with time that the report you have from Cartagena regarding 
 me is false." 
 
 Don Mario's features relaxed somewhat when his hand 
 closed over the grimy bills. 
 
 "Do not forget, amigo," added Jose, assuming an air of 
 mystery as he pursued the advantage, "that you and I are as- 
 sociated in various business matters, is it not so?" 
 
 The Alcalde's mouth twitched, but finally extended in an 
 unctuous grin. After all, the priest was a descendant of the 
 famous Don Ignacio, and — who knew? — he might have re- 
 sources of which the Alcalde little dreamed. 
 
 "Cierto, Padre!" he cried, rising to depart. "And we will 
 yet uncover La Libertad! You guarantee Rosendo's debt? 
 Bien, he shall have the supplies. But I think he should take' 
 another man with him. Lazaro might do, no?" 
 
 It was a gracious and unlooked for condescension. 
 
 "Send Lazaro to me, Don Mario," said Jose. "We will find 
 use for him, I thipk." 
 
 And thus Rosendo was enabled to depart a third time to 
 the solitudes of Guamoc6, 
 
 CHAPTER 14 
 
 WITH Rosendo again on the trail, Jose and Carmen bent 
 once more to their work. Within a few days the grate- 
 ful Lazaro was sent to Rosendo's hacienda, biding the 
 time when the priest should have a larger commission to be- 
 stow upon him. With the advent of the dry season, peace set- 
 tled over the sequestered town, while its artless folk drowsed 
 
 101 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 away the long, hot days and danced at night in the silvery 
 moonlight to the twang of the guitar and the drone of the 
 amorous canzonet. Jose was deeply grateful for these days of 
 unbroken quiet, and for the opportunity they afforded him to 
 probe the child's thought and develop his own. Day after day 
 he taught her. Night after night he visited the members of his 
 little parish, getting better acquainted with them, administer- 
 ing to their simple needs, talking to them in the church edifice 
 on the marvels of the outside world, and then returning to his 
 little cottage to prepare by the feeble rays of his flickering can- 
 dle Carmen's lessons for the following day. He had no texts, 
 save the battered little arithmetic; and even that was aban- 
 doned as soon as Carmen had mastered the decimal system. 
 Thereafter he wrote out each lesson for her, carefully wording 
 it that it might contain nothing to shock her acute sense of the 
 allness of God, and omitting from the vocabulary every refer- 
 ence to evil, to failure, disaster, sin and death. In mathemat- 
 ics he was sure of his ground, for there he dealt wholly with 
 the metaphysical. But history caused him many an hour of 
 perplexity in his efforts to purge it of the dross of human 
 thought. If Carmen were some day to go out into the world 
 she must know the story of its past. And yet, as Jose faced 
 her in the classroom and looked down into her unfathomable 
 eyes, in whose liquid depths there seemed to dwell a soul of 
 unexampled purity, he could not bring himself even to mention 
 the sordid events in the development of the human race which 
 manifested the darker elements of the carnal mind. Perhaps, 
 after all, she might never go out into the world. He had not 
 the faintest idea how such a thing could be accomplished. And 
 so under his tutelage the child grew to know a world of naught 
 but brightness and beauty, where love and happiness dwelt 
 ever with men, and wicked thoughts were seen as powerless 
 and transient, harmless to the one who knew God to be "every- 
 where." The man taught the child with the sad remembrance 
 of his own seminary training always before him, and with a 
 desire, amounting almost to frenzy, to keep from her every lim- 
 iting influence and benumbing belief of the carnal mind. 
 
 The decimal system mastered, Carmen was inducted into 
 the elements of algebra. 
 
 "How funny," she exclaimed, laughing, "to use letters for 
 numbers!" 
 
 "They are only general symbols, little one," he explained. 
 "Symbols are signs, or things that stand for other things." 
 
 Then came suddenly into his mind how the great Apostle 
 Paul taught that the things we see, or think we see, are them- 
 selves but symbols, reflections as from a mirror, and how we 
 
 102 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 must make them out as best we can for the present, knowing 
 that, in due season, we shall see the realities for which these 
 things stand to the human mind. He knew that back of the 
 mathematical symbols stood the eternal, unvarying, indestruc- 
 tible principles which govern their use. And he had begun to 
 see that back of the symbols, the phenomena, of human exist- 
 ence stands the great principle — infinite God — the eternal 
 mind. In the realm of mathematics the pi;inciples are omnipo- 
 tent for the solution of problems — omnipotent in the hands of 
 the one who understands and uses them aright. And is not 
 God the omnipotent principle to the one who understands and 
 uses Him aright in the solving of life's intricate problems? 
 
 "They are so easy when you know how. Padre dear," said 
 Carmen, referring to her tasks. 
 
 "But there will be harder ones, chiquita." 
 
 "Yes, Padre. But then I shall know more about the rules 
 that you call principles." 
 
 She took up each problem with confidence. Jose watched 
 her eagerly. "You do not know what the answer will be, 
 chiquita" he ventured. 
 
 "No, Padre dear.' But I don't care. If I use the rule in the 
 right way I shall get the correct answer, shall I not? Look!" 
 she cried joyfully, as she held up her paper with the completed 
 solution of a problem. 
 
 "But how do you know that it is correct?" he queried. 
 
 "Why — ^well, we can prove it — can't we?" She looked up at 
 him questioningly. Then she bent again over her task and 
 worked assiduously for some moments in silence. 
 
 "There ! I worked it back again to the starting point. And 
 it is right." 
 
 "And in proving it, little one, you have proved the principle 
 and established its correctness. Is it not so, chiquita?" 
 
 "Yes, Padre, it shows that the rule is right." 
 
 The child lapsed into silence, while Jose, as was becoming 
 his wont, awaited the result of her meditation. Then: 
 
 "Padre dear, there are rules for arithmetic, and algebra, and 
 — and for everything, are there not?" 
 
 "Yes, child, for music, for art, for everything. We can do 
 nothing correctly without using principles." 
 
 "And, Padre, there are principles that tell us how to live?" 
 she queried. 
 
 "What is your opinion on that point, queridita?" 
 
 "Just one principle, I guess. Padre dear," she finally ven- 
 tured, after a pause. 
 
 "And that, little one?" 
 
 "Just God." 
 
 103 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "And God is — " Jose began, then hesitated. The Apostle 
 John had dwelt with the Master. What had he urged so often 
 upon the dull ears of his timid followers? 
 
 The child looked up at the priest with a smile whose tender- 
 ness dissolved the rising clouds of doubt. 
 
 "And God is — love," he finished softly. 
 
 "That's it. Padre!" The child clapped her little hands and 
 laughed aloud. 
 
 Love ! Jesus had said, "I and my Father are one." Having 
 seen him, the world has seen the Father. But Jesus was the 
 highest manifestation of love that tired humanity has ever 
 known. "Love God!" he had cried in tones that have echoed 
 through the centuries. "Love thy neighbor!" Aye, love every- 
 thing, everybody! Apply the Principle of principles, Love, to 
 every task, every problem, every situation, every condition! 
 For what is the Christ-principle but Love? All things are pos- 
 sible to him who loves, for Love casteth out fear, the root of 
 every discord. Men ask why God remains hidden from them, 
 why their understanding of Him is dim. They forget that 
 God is Love. They forget that to know Him they must first 
 love their fellow-men. And so the world goes sorrowfully on, 
 hating, cheating, grasping, abusing; still wondering dully why 
 men droop and stumble, why they consume with disease, and, 
 with the despairing conviction that God is unknowable, sink- 
 ing at last into oblivion. 
 
 Jose, if he knew aught, knew that Carmen greatly loved — 
 loved all things deeply and tenderly as reflections of her im- 
 manent God. She had loved the hideous monster that had 
 crept toward her as she sat unguarded on the lake's rim. Un- 
 guarded? Not so, for the arms of Love were there about her. 
 She had loved God — good — ^with unshaken fealty when Rosendo 
 lay stricken. She had known that Love could not manifest in 
 death when he himself had been dragged from the lake that 
 burning afternoon a few weeks before. 
 
 "God is the rule, isn't He, Padre dear?" The child's un- 
 exampled eyes glowed like burning coals. "And we can prove 
 Him, too," she continued confidently. 
 
 Prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not 
 open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing 
 that there shall not be room enough to receive it. 
 
 Prove Him, O man, that He is Love, and that Love, casting 
 out hate and fear, solv£s life's every problem! But first — 
 Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be 
 meat in mine house. Bring your whole confidence, your trust, 
 your knowledge of the allness of good, and the nothingness of 
 evil. Bring, too, your every earthly hope, every mad ambition, 
 
 104 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 every corroding fear, and carnal belief; lay them down at the 
 doorway of mine storehouse, and behold their nothingness! 
 
 As Carmen approached her simple algebraic problems Jos6 
 saw the working of a rule infinite in its adaptation. She knew 
 not what the answers should be, yet she took up each problem 
 with supreme confidence, knowing that she possessed and 
 rightly understood the rule for correctly solving it. She knew 
 that speculation regarding the probable results was an idle 
 waste of time. And she likewise knew instinctively that fear 
 of inability to solve them would paralyze her efforts and 
 insure defeat at the outset. 
 
 Nor could she force solutions to correspond to what she 
 might think they ought to be — as mankind attempt to force the 
 solving of their life problems to correspond to human views. 
 She was glad to work out her problems in the only way they 
 could be solved. Love, humility, obedience, enabled her to 
 understand and correctly apply the principle to her tasks. The 
 results were invariable — harmony and exceeding joy. 
 
 Jose had learned another lesson. Again that little hand had 
 softly swept his harp of life. And again he breathed in unison 
 with its vibrating chords a deep "Thank God!" 
 
 "Padre dear." Carmen looked up from a brown study. 
 "What does zero really mean?" 
 
 "It stands for nothing, child," the priest made reply, won- 
 dering what was to follow this introduction. 
 
 "And the minus sign in algebra is different frpm the one in 
 arithmetic. What does it mean?" 
 
 "Less than nothing." 
 
 "But, Padre, if God is all, how can you say there is nothing, 
 or less than nothing?" 
 
 The priest had his answer ready. "They are only human 
 ways of thinking, chiquita. The plus sign always represents 
 something positive; the minus, something negative. The one 
 is the opposite of the other." ■ 
 
 "Is there an opposite to everything. Padre?" 
 
 The priest hesitated. Then: 
 
 "No, chiquita — not a real opposite. But," he added hastily, 
 "we may suppose an opposite to everything." 
 
 A moment's pause ensued. "That is what makes people 
 sick and unhappy, isn't it. Padre?" 
 
 "What, child?" in unfeigned surprise. 
 
 "Supposing an opposite to God. Supposing that there can 
 be nothing, when He is everywhere. Doesn't all trouble come 
 from just supposing things that are not so?" 
 
 Whence came such questions to the mind of this child? 
 And why did they invariably lead to astonishing deductions in 
 
 17 105 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 his own? Why did he often give a great start as it dawned 
 again upon him that he was not talking to one of mature age, 
 but to a babe? 
 
 He tore a strip from the paper in his hand. Relatively the 
 paper had lost in size and quantity, and there was a distinct 
 separation. Absolutely, such a thing was an impossibility. 
 The plus was always positive and real; the minus was always 
 relative, and stood for unreality. And so it was throughout the 
 entire realm of thought. Every real thing has its suppositional 
 opposite. The difficulty is that the human mind, through long 
 ages of usage, has come to regard the opposite as just as real 
 as the thing itself. The opposite of love is hate; of health, 
 disease; of good, evil; of the real, the counterfeit. God is posi- 
 tive — Truth. His opposite, the negative, is supposition. Oh, 
 stupid, blundering, dull-eared humanity, not to have realized 
 that this was just what Jesus said when he defined evil as the 
 lie about God! No wonder the prophet proclaimed salvation 
 to be righteousness, right thinking ! But would gross humanity 
 have understood the Master better if he had defined it this way? 
 No, they would have stoned him on the spot ! 
 
 Jose knew that when both he and Rosendo lay sick unto 
 death Carmen's thought had been positive, while theirs had 
 been of the opposite sign. Was her pure thought stronger 
 than their disbelief? Evidently so. Was this the case with 
 Jesus? And with the prophets before him, whom the world 
 laughed to scorn? The inference from Scripture is plain. 
 What, then, is the overcoming of evil but the driving out of 
 entrenched human beliefs? 
 
 Again Jose came back to the thought of Principle. Con- 
 fucius had said that heaven was principle- And heaven is 
 harmony. But had evil any principle? Mankind are accus- 
 tomed to speak lightly and knowingly of their "principles." 
 But in their search for the Philosopher's Stone they have over- 
 looked the Principle which the Master used to effect his mighty 
 works — "that Mind which was in Christ Jesus." The Principle 
 of Jesus was God. And, again, God is Love. 
 
 The word evil is a comprehensive term, including errors of 
 every sort. And yet, in the world's huge category of evils is 
 there a single one that stands upon a definite principle? Jose 
 had to admit to himself that there was not. Errors in mathe- 
 matics result from ignorance of principles, or from their mis- 
 application. But are the errors real and permanent? 
 
 "Padre, when I make a mistake, and then go back and do 
 the problem over and get it right, what becomes of the mis- 
 take?" 
 
 Jose burst out laughing at the tremendous question. Car- 
 men joined in heartily. 
 
 106 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "But, Padre," she pursued, "there are rules for solving 
 problems ; but there isn't any rule or principle for making mis- 
 takes, is there?" 
 
 "Surely not, child!" Jbs6 replied. 
 
 "And if I always knew the truth about things, I couldn't 
 make mistakes, could I?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 Jose waited for her further comments. They came after a 
 brief meditation. 
 
 "Well, then, God doesn't know anything about mistakes — 
 does He?" 
 
 "No, chiqnita." 
 
 "And He knows everything." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then, Padre dear, nobody can know anything about mis- 
 takes. People just think they can — don't they?" 
 
 Jose thought hard for a few moments. "Chiquita, can you 
 know that two and two are seven?" 
 
 "Why, Padre dear, how funny!" 
 
 "Yes — ^it does seem strange — now. And yet, I used to think 
 I could know things just as absurd." 
 
 "Why, what was that. Padre?" 
 
 "I thought,. c/iiguita, that I could know evil — something that 
 God does not and can not know." 
 
 "But — could you, Padre?" 
 
 "No, child.. It is absolutely impossible to know — to really 
 know — error of any sort." 
 
 "If we knew it. Padre, it would have a rule; or as you say, 
 a principle, no?" 
 
 "Exactly, child." 
 
 "And, since God is everywhere. He would have to be its 
 principle." 
 
 "Just the point. Now take another of the problems, chi- 
 quita, and work on it while I think about these things," he 
 said, assigning another of the simple tasks to the child. 
 
 For an idea was running through the man's thought, and 
 he had traced it back to the explorer in Cartagena. Reason and 
 logic supported the thought of God as mind; of the creation as 
 the unfolding of this mind's ideas; and of man as the greatest 
 idea of God. It also seemed to show that the physical senses 
 afforded no testimony at all, and that human beings saw, heard 
 and felt only in thought, in belief. On this basis everything 
 reduced to a mental plane, and man became a mentality. But 
 what sort of mentality was that which Jos6 saw all about him 
 in sinful, sick and dying humanity? The human man is de- 
 monstrably mortal— and he is a sort of mind — ah, yes, that 
 
 107 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ■was it! The explorer had said that up in that great country 
 north there were those who referred to this sort of mentality 
 as "mortal mind." Jose thought it an excellent term. For, if 
 the mortal man is a mind at all. he assuredly is a mortal mind. 
 
 And the mortal mind is the opposite of that mind which is 
 the eternal God. But God can have no real opposite. Any so- 
 called opposite to Him must he a supposition — or, as Jesus de- 
 fined it, the lie about Him. This lie seems to counterfeit the 
 eternal mind that is God. It seems to, pose as a creative prin- 
 .ciple, and to simulate the powers and attributes 6f God himself. 
 It assumes to create its universe of matter, the direct opposite 
 of the spiritual universe. And, likewise, it assumes to create its 
 man, its own idea of itself, and hence the direct opposite of 
 the real man, the divine idea of God, made in His own image 
 and likeness. 
 
 Jose rose and went to the doorway. "Surely," he mur- 
 mured low, "the material personality, called man, which sins, 
 suffers and dies, is not real man, but his counterfeit, a creation 
 of God's opposite, the so-called mortal mind. It must be a part 
 of the lie about God, the 'mist' that went up from the ground 
 and watered the whole face of the earth, leaving, the veil of 
 supposition which obscures God from human sight. It is this 
 sort of man and this sort of universe that I have always seen 
 about me, and that the world refers to as human beings, or 
 mortals, and the physical universe. And yet I have been look- 
 ing only at my false thoughts of man." 
 
 At that moment he caught sight of Juan running toward 
 him from the lake. The lad had just returned from Bodega 
 Central. 
 
 "Padre," he exclaimed breathlessly, "there is war in the 
 country again! The revolution has broken out, and they are 
 fighting all along the river!" 
 
 Jos6 turned into the house and clasped Carmen in his arms. 
 
 CHAPTER 15 
 
 JUAN'S startling announcement linked Jose again with a fad- 
 ing past. Standing with his arm about Carmen, while the 
 child looked lip wonderingly at her grimly silent protector, 
 the priest seemed to have fallen with dizzy precipitation from 
 some spiritual height into a familiar material world of men 
 and events. Into his chastened mentality there now rushed a 
 rabble rout of suggestions, throwing into wild confusion the or- 
 derly forces of mind which he was striving to marshal to meet 
 
 108 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the situation. He recalled, for the first time in his new environ- 
 ment, the significant conversation of Don Jorge and the priest 
 Diego, in Banco. He saw again the dark clouds that were low- 
 ering above the unhappy country when he left Cartagena. Had 
 they at last broken? And would carnal lust and rapine again 
 drench fair Colombia with the blood of her misguided sons? 
 Were the disturbance only a local uprising, headed by a coterie 
 of selfish politicians, it would produce but a passing ripple. 
 Colombia had witnessed many such, and had, by a judicious 
 redistribution of public offices, generally met the crises with 
 little difficulty. On the other hand, if the disorder drew its 
 stimulus from the deep-seated, swelling sentiment of protest 
 against the continued affiliation of Church and State, then what 
 might not ensue before reason would again lay her restraining 
 hand upon the rent nation! For — strange anomaly — no strife 
 is so venomous, no wars so bloody, no issues so steeped in 
 deadliest hatred, as those which break forth in the name of the 
 humble Christ. 
 
 A buzzing concourse was gathering in the plaza before the 
 church. Leaving Carmen in charge of Dona Maria, Jose min- 
 gled with the excited people. Juan had brought no definite 
 information, other than that already imparted to Jose, but his 
 elastic Latin imagination had supplied all lacking essentials, 
 and now, with much gesticulation and rolling of eyes, with 
 frequent alternations of shrill chatter and dignified pomp of 
 phrase, he was portraying in a mdlange of picturesque and 
 poetic Spanish the supposed happenings along the great river. 
 
 Jose forced the lad gently aside and addressed the thor- 
 oughly excited people himself, assuring them that no reliable 
 news was as yet at hand, and bidding them assemble in the 
 church after the evening meal, where he would advise with 
 them regarding their future course. He then sought the Alcalde, 
 and drew him into his store, first closing the door against the 
 excited multitude. 
 
 "Bien, Senor Padre, what are you going to do?" The 
 Alcalde was atremble with insuppressible excitement. 
 
 "Don Mario, we must protect Simiti," replied the priest, with 
 a show of calm which he did not possess. 
 
 "Caramba, but not a man will stay! They will run to the 
 hills! The guerrillas will come, and Simiti will be burned to 
 the ground!" 
 
 "Will you stay— with me?" 
 
 "Na, and be hacked by the machetes of the guerrillas, or 
 lassoed by government soldiers and dragged off to the war?" 
 The official mopped the damp from his purple brow. 
 
 "Caramba!" he went on. "But the Antioquanians will come 
 
 109 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 down the Simiti trail from Remedios and butcher every one 
 they meet! They hate us Simitanians, since we whipped them 
 in the revolution of seventy-six! And — Diablo! if we stay here 
 and beat them back, then the federal troops will come with 
 their ropes and chains and force us away to fight on their side ! 
 Nombre de Dios! I am for the mountains — pronto!" 
 
 Jose's own fear mounted by leaps. And yet, in the welter 
 of conflicting thought two objects stood out above the rest — 
 Carmen and Rosendo. The latter was on the trail, somewhere. 
 Would he fall afoul of the baindits who find in these revolutions 
 their opportunities for plunder and bloodshed? As for Carmen 
 — the priest's apprehensions were piling mountain-high. He 
 had quickly forgotten his recent theories regarding the nature 
 of God and man. He had been swept by the force of ill tidings 
 clean off the lofty spiritual plane up to which he had struggled 
 during the past weeks. Again he was befouled in the mire of 
 material fears and corroding speculations as to the probable 
 manifestations of evil, real and immanent. Don Mario was 
 right. He must take the child and fly at once. He would go 
 to Dona Maria immediately and bid her prepare for the 
 journey. 
 
 "You had best go to Don Nicolds," replied Dona Maria, 
 when the priest had voiced his fears to her. "He lives in Boque, 
 and has a hacienda somewhere up that river. He will send you 
 there in his canoe." 
 
 "And Boque is—?" 
 
 "Three hours from Simiti, across the shales. You must 
 start with the dawn, or the heat will overtake you before you 
 arrive." 
 
 "Then make yourself ready, Doiia Maria," said 3os6 in relief, 
 "and we will set out in the morning." 
 
 "Padre, I will stay here," the woman quietly replied. 
 
 "Stay here!" ejaculated the priest. "Impossible! But why?" 
 
 "There will be many women too old to leave the town, 
 Padre. I will stay to help them if trouble comes. And I would 
 not go without Rosendo." 
 
 Shame fell upon the priest like a blanket. He, the Cura, 
 was deserting his charge! And this quiet, dignified woman 
 had shown herself stronger than the man of God! He turned 
 to the door. Carmen was just entering. He took the child by 
 the hand and led her to his own cottage, 
 
 "Carmen," he said, as she stood expectantly before him, 
 "we — there is trouble in the country— that is, men are fighting 
 and killing down on the river— and they may come here. We 
 must — I mean, I think it best for us to go away from Simiti 
 for a while." The priest's eyes fell before the perplexed gaze 
 of the girl. 
 
 110 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Go away?" she repeated slowly. "But, Padre — why?" 
 
 "The soldiers might come — ^wicked men might come and 
 harm you, chiquital" 
 
 The child seemed not to comprehend. "Is it that you think 
 they will. Padre f she at length spoke. 
 
 "I fear so, little one," he made reply. 
 
 "But— why should they?'' 
 
 "Because they want to steal and kill," he returned sadly. 
 
 "They can't. Padre — they can't!" the girl said quickly. "You 
 told me that people see only their thoughts, you know. They 
 only think they want to steal — and they don't think right—" 
 
 "But," he interrupted bitterly, "that doesn't keep them from 
 coming here just the same and — and — " He checked his words, 
 as a faint memory of his recent talks with the girl glowed 
 momentarily in his seething brain. 
 
 "But we can keep them from coming here. Padre — can't 
 we?" 
 
 "How. child?" 
 
 "By thinking right ourselves. Padre — ^you said so, days ago 
 — don't you remember?" The girl came to the frightened man 
 and put her little arm about his neck. It was an action that 
 had become habitual with her. "Padre dear, you read me* 
 something from your Bible just yesterday. It was about God, 
 and He said, 'I am that which was, and is, and is to come.' 
 Don't you remember? But, Padre dear, if He is that which is 
 to come, how can anything bad come?" 
 
 O, ye of little faith ! Could ye not watch one hour with me 
 — the Christ-principle? Must ye ever flee when the ghost of 
 evil stalks before you with his gross assumptions? 
 
 Yes, Jose remembered. But he had said those things to 
 her and evolved those beautiful theories in a time of peace. 
 Now his feeble faith was flying in panic before the demon of 
 unbelief, which had been aroused by sudden fear. 
 
 The villagers were gathering before his door like frightened 
 sheep. They sought counsel, protection, from him, the un- 
 faithful shepherd. Could he not, for their sakes, tear himself 
 loose from bondage to his own deeply rooted beliefs, and 
 launch out into his true orbit about God? Was life, happiness, 
 all, at the disposal of physical sense? Did he not love these 
 people? And could not his love for them cast out his fear? 
 If the test had come, would he meet it, calmly, even alone with 
 his God, if need be? — or would he basely flee? He was not 
 alone. Carmen stood by him. She had no part in his coward- 
 ice. But Carmen — she was only a child, immature, inexpe- 
 rienced in the ways of the world! True. Yet the great God 
 himself had caused His prophets to see that "a little child shall 
 
 111 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 lead them." And surely Carmen was now leading in fearless- 
 ness and calm, trust, in the face of impending evil. 
 
 Jose rose from his chair and threw back his shoulders. He 
 stepped quickly to the door. "My children," he said gently, 
 holding out his arms over them. "Be not afraid. I shall not 
 leave" Simiti, but remain here to help and protect all who will 
 stay with me. If the guerrillas or soldiers come we will meet 
 them here, where we shall be protecting our loved ones and 
 our homes. Come to the church to-night, and there we will 
 discuss plans. Go now, and remember that your Cura has said 
 that there shall no harm befall you." 
 
 Did he believe his own words? He wondered. 
 
 The people dispersed; Carmen was called by Doiia Maria; 
 and Jos6 dropped down upon his bed to strive again to clear 
 hts mind of the foul brood which had swept so suddenly into' 
 it, and to prepare for the evening meeting. 
 
 Late that night, as he crossed the. road from the church to 
 his little home, his pulse beat rapidly under the stimulus of 
 real joy. He had conquered his own and the fears of the 
 Alcalde, and that official had at length promised to stay and 
 support him. The people's fears of impressment into military 
 service had been calmly met and assuaged, though Jose had 
 yielded to their wish to form a company pf militia; and had 
 even agreed to drill them, as he had seen the troops of Europe 
 drilled and prepared for conflict. There were neither guns 
 nor ammunition in the town, but they could drill with their 
 machetes — for, he repeated to himself, this was but a conces- 
 sion, an expedient, to keep the men occupied and their minds 
 stimulated by his own show of courage and preparedness. It 
 was decided to send Lazaro Ortiz at once into the Guamoco 
 district, to find and warn Rosendo; while Juan was to go to 
 Bodega Central for whatever news he might gather, and to 
 return with immediate warning, should danger threaten their 
 town. Similar instruction was to be sent to Escolastico, at 
 Badillo. Within a few days a runner should be despatched 
 over the Guamoco trail, to spread the information as judiciously 
 as possible that the people of Simiti were armed and on the 
 alert to meet any incursion from guerrilla bands. The ripple 
 of excitement quickly died away. The priest would now strive 
 mightily to keep his own thought clear and his courage alive, 
 to sustain his people in whatever experience might befall 
 them. 
 
 Quiet reigned in the little village the next morning, and its 
 people went about their familiar duties jvith but a passing 
 thought of the events of the preceding day. The Alcalde called 
 at the parish house early for further instructions in regard to 
 
 112 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the proposed company of militia. The priest decided to drill 
 his men twice a day, at the rising and setting of the sun. Car- 
 men's lessons were then resumed, and soon Jos6 was again 
 laboring conscientiously to imbibe the spirit of calm trust which 
 dwelt in this young girl. 
 
 The Master's keynote before every threatening evil was, 
 "Be not afraid." Carmen's liife-niotif was, "God is everywhere." 
 Jose strove to see that the Christ-principle was eternal, and as 
 available to mankind now as when the great Exemplar pro- 
 pounded it to the dull ears of his followers. But men must 
 learn how to use it. When they have done this, Christianity 
 will be as scientific and demonstrable to mankind as is now the 
 science of mathematics. A rule, though understood, is utterly 
 ineffective if not applied. Yet, how to apply the Christ-princi- 
 ple? is the question convulsing a world to-day. 
 
 God, the infinite creative mind, is that principle. Jesus 
 showed clear ly^so clearly that the wonder is men could have 
 missed the mark so completely — that the great principle be- 
 comes available only when men empty their minds of pride, 
 selfishness, ignorance, and human will, and put in their place 
 love, humility and truth. This step taken, there will flow into 
 the human consciousness the qualities of God himself, giving 
 powers that mortals believe utterly impossible to them. But 
 hatred must go; self-love, too; carnal ambition must go; and 
 fear — ^the cornerstone of every towering structure of mortal 
 misery — must be utterly cast out by an understanding of the 
 allness of the Mind that framed the spiritual universe. 
 
 Jose, looking at Carmen as she sat before him, tried to know 
 that love was the salvation, the righteousness, right-thinking, 
 by which alone the sons of men could be redeemed. The world 
 would -give such utterance the lie, he knew. To love an enemy 
 is weakness ! The sons of earth must be warriors, and valiantly 
 fight! Alas! the tired old world has fought for ages untold, 
 and gained — nothing. Did Jesus fight? Not as the world. He 
 had a better way. He loved his enemies with a love that un- 
 derstood the allness of God, and the consequent nothingness of 
 the human concept. Knowing the concept of man as mortal to 
 be an illusion, Jesus then knew that he had no enemies. 
 
 The work-day closed, and Carmen was about to leave. A 
 shadow fell across the open doorway. Jose looked up. A man, 
 dressed in clerical garb, stood looking in, his eyes fixed upon 
 Carmen. Jose's heart stopped, and he sat as one stunned. The 
 man was Padre Diego Polo. 
 
 "Ah, brother in Christ!" the newcomer cried, advancing 
 with outstretched hands. "Well met, indeed! I ached to think 
 I might not find you here! But — Carambal can this be my 
 
 113 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 little Carmen, from whom I tore myself in tears four years ago 
 and more? Diablo! but she has grown to be a charming senor- 
 ita already." He bent over and kissed the child loudly upon 
 each cheek. 
 
 Jose with difficulty restrained himself from pouncing upon 
 the man as he watched him pass his fat hands over the girl!s 
 bare arms and feast his lecherous eyes upon her round 
 figure and plump limbs. The child shrank under the wither- 
 ing touch. Freeing herself, she ran from the room, followed 
 by a taunting laugh from Diego. 
 
 "Caramba!" he exclaimed, sinking into the chair vacated 
 by the girl. "But I had the devil's own trouble getting here! 
 And I find everything quiet as a funeral in this sink of a 
 town, just as if hell were not spewing fire down on the river! 
 Dios! But give me a bit of rum, amigo. My spirits droop like 
 the torn wing of a heron." 
 
 Jose slowly found his voice. "I have no rum. I regret ex- 
 ceedingly, friend. But doubtless the Alcalde can supply you. 
 Have you seen him?" 
 
 "Hombre! With what do you quench your thirst?" ejacu- 
 lated the disappointed priest. "Lake water?" Then he added 
 with a fatuous grin: 
 
 "No, I have not yet honored the Alcalde with a call. Anx- 
 ious care drove me straight from the boat to you; for with 
 you, a brother priest, I knew I would find hospitality and 
 protection." 
 
 Jose sat speechless. After a few moments, during which he 
 fanned himself vigorously with his black felt hat, Diego con- 
 tinued volubly: 
 
 "You are consumed to know what brings me here, eh? Bien, 
 I will anticipate your questions. The country is on fire around 
 Banco. And — ^you know they do not love priests down that 
 way — well, I saw that it had come around to my move. I 
 therefore got out — quickly. H'm! 
 
 "But," he continued, "luckily 1 had screwed plenty of Masses 
 out of the Banco sheep this past year, and my treasure box 
 was comfortably full. Bueno, I hired a canoe and a couple of 
 strapping peones, who brought me by night, and by damnably 
 slow degrees, up the river to Bodega Central. As luck would 
 have it, I chanced to be there the day Juan arrived from Simiti. 
 So I straightway caused inquiry to be made of him respecting 
 the present whereabouts of our esteemed friend, Don Rosendo. 
 Learning that my worthy brother was prospecting for La 
 Libertad, it occurred to me that this decaying town might af- 
 ford me the asylum I needed until I could make the necessary 
 preparations to get up into the mountains. Caramba! but I 
 
 114 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 shall not stay where a stray bullet or a badly directed machete 
 may terminate my noble life-aspirations!" 
 
 Jose groaned inwardly. "But, how dared you come to 
 Simiti?" he exclaimed. "You were once forced to leave this 
 town—!" 
 
 "Assuredly, amigo," Diego replied with great coolness. "And 
 I would not risk my tender skin again had I not believed that 
 you were here to shield me. My only safety lies in making the 
 mountains. Their most accessible point is by way of Simiti. 
 From here I can go to the San Lucas country; eventually get 
 back to the Guamoco trail; and ultimately land in Remedios, 
 or some other town farther south, where the anticlerical senti- 
 ment is not so cursedly strong. I have money and two negro 
 boys. The boat I shall have to leave here in your care. Bien, 
 learning that Rosendo, my principal annoyance and obstruc- 
 tion, was absent, and that you, my friend, were here, I decided 
 to brave the wrath of the simple denizens of this hole, and 
 spend a day or two as guest of yourself and my good friend, 
 the Alcalde,^ before journeying farther. Thus you have it all, 
 in parvo. But, Dios y diablol that trip up the river has nearly 
 done for me! We traveled by night and hid in the brush by 
 day, where millions of gnats and mosquitoes literally devoured 
 me! Caramba! and you so inhospitable as to have no rum!" 
 
 The garrulous priest paused for breath. Then he resumed : 
 
 "A voluptuous little wench, that Carmen! Keeping her 
 for yourself, eh? But you will have tg give her up. Belongs to 
 the Church, you know. But don't let our worthy Don Wences- 
 las hear of her good looks, for he'd pop her into a convent 
 presto! And later he — Bien, you had better get rid of her be- 
 fore she makes you trouble. I'll take her off your hands my- 
 self, even though I shall be traveling for the next few months. 
 But, say," changing the subject abruptly, "Don Wenceslas 
 sprung his trap too soon, eh?" 
 
 "I don't follow you," said Jose, consuming with indigna- 
 tion over the priest's coarse talk, 
 
 "Diablo! he pulls a revolution before it is ripe. Is anything 
 more absurd ! It begins as he intended, anticlerical ; and so 
 it will run for a while. But after that — Bien, you will see it re- 
 verse itself and turn solely political, with the present Govern- 
 ment on top at the last, and the end a matter of less than six 
 weeks." 
 
 "Do you think so?" asked Jose, eagerly grasping at a new 
 hope. 
 
 "I know it!" ejaculated Diego. "Hombre! But I have been 
 too close to matters religious and political in this country all 
 my life not to know that Don Wenceslas has this time com- 
 
 115 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 mitted the blunder of being a bit too eager. Had he waited a 
 few months longer, and then pulled the string — Dios y diablol 
 there would have been such a fracas as to turn the Cordilleras 
 bottom up! Now all that is set back for years — Quien sabe?" 
 
 "But," queried the puzzled Jose, "how could Wenceslas, a 
 priest, profit by an anticlerical war?" 
 
 "Caramba, amigol But the good Wenceslas is priest only 
 in name! He is a politician, bred to the game. He lays his 
 plans with the anticlericals, knowing full well that Church and 
 State can not be separated in this land of mutton-headed 
 peones. Bueno, the clever man precipitates a revolution that 
 can have but one result, the closer unioji of Rome and the Co- 
 lombian Government. And for this he receives the direction of 
 the See of Cartagena and the disposition of the rich revenues 
 from the mines and flncas of his diocese. Do you get me?" 
 
 "And, amigo, how long will this disturbance continue?" 
 said Jose, speaking earnestly. 
 
 "I have told you, a few weeks at the most," replied Diego 
 with a show of petulance. "But, just the same, as agent of 
 your friend Wenceslas, I have been a mite too active along the 
 river, especially in the town of Banco, to find safety anywhere 
 within, the pale of civilization until this little fracas blows over. 
 This one being an abortion, the next revolution can come only 
 after several years of most painstaking preparation. But, mark 
 me, amigo, that one will not miscarry, nor will it be less than a 
 scourge of the Lord!" . 
 
 Despite the sordidness of the man, Jos6 was profoundly 
 grateful to him for this information. And there could be no 
 doubt of its authenticity, coming as it did from a tool of Wen- 
 ceslas himself. Jose became cheerful, even animated. 
 
 "Good, then ! Now when do you expect to set out for San 
 Lucas?" he asked. "Rosendo may return any day." 
 
 "Diablo! Then I must be off at once!" 
 
 "To-morrow?" suggested Jose eagerly. 
 
 "Caramba, hermano! Why so desirous of my departure? 
 To be sure, to-morrow, if possible. But I must have a chat with 
 our good friend, the Alcalde. So do me the inexpressible favor 
 to accompany me to his door, and there leave me. My peones 
 are down at the boat, and I would rather not face the people of 
 Simiti alone." 
 
 "Gladly," assented Jos6. 
 
 The man rose to depart. At that moment Doiia Maria ap- 
 peared at the door bearing a tray with Josh's supper. She 
 stopped short as she recognized Diego. 
 
 "Ah, Senora Dona Maria!" exclaimed Diego, bowing low. 
 "I kiss your hand." 
 
 116 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The woman looked inquiringly from Diego to Jose. With- 
 out a word she set the tray on the table and quickly departed. 
 
 "H'm, amigo, 1 think it well to visit the Alcalde at once," 
 murmured Diego. "I regret that 1 bring the amiable senora no 
 greeting from her charming daughter. Ay de mi!" he sighed, 
 picking up his hat. "The conventions of this world are so 
 narrow!" 
 
 Don Mario exclaimed loudly when he beheld the familiar 
 figure of Padre Diego. Recovering from his astonishment he 
 broke into a loud guffaw and clapped the grinning priest 
 heartily upon the back. 
 
 "Caramba, man! But I admire you at last! I can forgive 
 all your wickedness at sight of such nerve! Ramona!" calling 
 to his daughter in the patio. , "That last garrafon and some 
 glasses! But enter, enter, seiiores! Why stand you there? 
 My poor hovel is yours!" stepping aside and ceremoniously 
 waving them in. 
 
 "Our friend finds that his supper awaits him," said Diego, 
 laying a hand patronizingly upon Jose's arm. "But I will eat 
 with you, my good Don Mario, and occupy a petate on your 
 floor to-night. Conque, until later, Don Jose," waving a polite 
 dismissal to the latter. "If not' to-night, then in the morning 
 temprano." 
 
 The audacity of the man nettled Jose. He would have liked 
 to be present during the interview between the Alcalde and this 
 cunning religio-political agent, for he knew that the weak- 
 kneed Don Mario would be putty in his oily hands. However, 
 Diego had shown him that he was not wanted. And there was 
 nothing to do but nurse his temper and await events. 
 
 But, whatever deplorable results the visit of Diego might 
 entail, he had at least brought present comfort to Jose in his 
 report of the militant uprising now in progress, and the latter 
 would sleep this night without the torment of dread apprehen- 
 sion. 
 
 The next morning Diego entered the parish house just as 
 master and pupil were beginning their day.'s work. 
 
 "Ha!" he exclaimed, "our parochial school is quite discrimi- 
 nating! No? One pupil! Bien, are there not enough children 
 in the town to warrant a larger school, and with a Sister in 
 charge? I will report the matter to the good Bishop." 
 
 Jose's wrath leaped into flame. "There is a school here, as 
 you know, amigo, with a competent master," he replied with 
 what calmness he could muster. 
 
 It was perhaps a hasty and unfortunate remark, for Jose 
 knew he had been jealously selfish with Carmen. 
 
 "Caramba, yes!" retorted Diego. "A private school, to 
 
 117 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 which the stubborn beasts that live in this sink will not send 
 their brats! There must be a parochial school in Simiti, sup- 
 ported by the people! Oh, don't worry; there is gold enough 
 here, buried in patios and under these innocent-looking mud 
 walls, to support the Pope for a decade — and that," he 
 chuckled, "is no small sum!" 
 
 His eyes roved over Carmen and he began a mental ap- 
 praisement of the. girl. "Caramba!" muttering half to himself, 
 after he had feasted his sight upon her for some moments, "but 
 she is large for her age — and, Dios y diablol a ravishing 
 beauty!" 
 
 He stood for a while wrapped in thought. Then an idea 
 seemed to filter through his cunning brain. His coarse, un- 
 moral face brightened, and his thick lips parted in an evil smile. 
 
 "Come here, little one," he said patronizingly, extending his 
 arms to the child. "Come, give your good Padre his morning 
 kiss." 
 
 The girl shrank back in her chair and looked appealingly at 
 Jos6. 
 
 "No? Then I must come and steal it; and when you confess 
 to good Padre Jose you may tell him it was all my fault." 
 
 He started toward her. A look of horror came into the 
 child's face and she sprang from her seat. Jose swiftly rose. 
 He seized Diego by the shoulder and whirled him quickly 
 about. His face was menacing and his frame trembled. 
 
 "One moment, friend!" The voice was low, tense, and de- 
 liberate. "If you lay a hand on that child I will strike you 
 dead at my feet!" 
 
 Diego recoiled. Cielo! was this the timid sheep that had 
 stopped for a moment in Banco on its way to the slaughter? 
 But there was no mistaking the spirit manifested now in that 
 voice and attitude. 
 
 "Why, amigo!" he exclaimed, a foolish grin splitting his 
 ugly features. "Your little joke startled me!" 
 
 Jose motioned Carmen to leave. 
 
 "Be seated, Don Diego. It would be well to understand 
 each other more thoroughly." 
 
 Had Jose gone too far? He wondered. Heaven knew, he 
 could not afford to make enemies, especially at this juncture! 
 But he had not misread the thought coursing through the foul 
 mind of Diego. And yet, violence now might ruin both the 
 child and himself. He must be wiser. 
 
 "I — I was perhaps a little hasty, amigo," he began in gentler 
 tones. "But, as you see, I have been quite wrought up of late 
 — the news of the revolution, and — in these past months there 
 have been many things to cause me worry. I — " 
 
 118 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Say no more, good friend," interrupted the oily Diego, his 
 beady eyes twinkling. "But you will not wonder it struck me 
 odd that a father should not be permitted to embrace his own 
 daughter." 
 
 Dead silence, heavy and stifling, fell upon Jose. Slowly his 
 throat filled, and his ears began to throb. Diego sat before him, 
 smiling and twirling his fat thumbs. He looked like the images 
 of Chinese gods Jose had seen in foreign lands. 
 
 Then the tortured man forced a laugh. Of course, the 
 strain of yesterday had been too much for him! His over- 
 wrought mind had read into words and events meanings which 
 they had not been meant to convey. 
 
 "True, amigo," he managed to say, striving to steady his 
 voice. "But we spiritual Fathers should not forget — " 
 
 Diego laughed egregiously. "Caramba, man! Let us get 
 to the meat in the niit. Why do you think I am in Simiti, 
 braving the wrath of Rosendo and others? Why have I left 
 my comfortable quarters in Banco, to undertake a journey, 
 long and hazardous, to this godless hole?" 
 
 He paused, apparently enjoying the suffering he saw de- 
 picted upon Jose's countenance. 
 
 "I will tell you," he resumed. "But you will keep my con- 
 fidence, no? We are brother priests, and must hold together. 
 You protect me in this, and I return the favor in a like indis- 
 cretion. Bien, I explain : I am here partly because of the revo- 
 lution, as I told you yesterday, and partly, as I did not tell you, 
 to see my little girl, my daughter. Carmen — 
 
 "Caramba, man!" he cried, bounding to his feet, as he 
 saw Jose slowly rise before him. "Listen! It is God's truth! 
 Sit down!. Sit down!" 
 
 Jose dropped back into his chair like a withered leaf in the 
 lull of a winter's wind. 
 
 "Dios y diablo, but it rends me to make this confession, 
 amigo I And yet, I look to you for support ! The girl. Carmen 
 — I am her father!" 
 
 Diego paced 'dramatically up and down before the scarce 
 hearing Jose and unfolded his story in a quick, jerky voice, 
 with many a gesture and much rolling of his bright eyes. 
 
 "Her mother was a Spanish woman of high degree. We 
 met in Bogota. My vows prevented me from marrying her, else 
 I should have done so. Caramba, but I loved her! Bien, I 
 was called to Cartagena. She feared, in her delicate state, that 
 I was deserting her. She tried to follow me, and at Badillo 
 was put off the boat. There, poor child, she passed away in 
 grief, leaving her babe. May she rest forever on the bosom 
 of the blessed Virgin!" Diego bowed reverently and crossed 
 himself. 
 
 119 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Then I lost all trace of her. My diligent inquiries re- 
 vealed nothing. Two years later I was assigned to the parish 
 of Simiti. Here I saw the little locket which I had given her, 
 and knew that Carmen was my child. Ah, Dios! what a revela- 
 tion to a breaking heart ! But I could not openly acknowledge 
 her, for I was already in disgrace, as you know. And, once 
 down, it is easy to sink still further. I confess, I was indis- 
 creet here. I was forced to fly. Rosendo's daughter followed 
 me, despite my protests. I was assigned to Banco. Bien, time 
 passed, and you came. I had hoped you would take the little 
 Carmen under your protection. God, how I grieved for the 
 child ! At last I determined, come what might, to see her. The 
 revolution drove me to the mountains; and love for my girl 
 brought me by way of Simiti. And now, amigo, you have my 
 confession — and you will not be hard on me? Caramba, I need 
 a friend!" He sat down, and mopped his wet brow. His talk 
 had shaken him visibly. 
 
 Again oppressive silence. Jose was staring with unseeing 
 eyes out through the open doorway. A stream of sunlight 
 poured over the dusty threshold, and myriad motes danced in 
 the golden flood. 
 
 "Bien, amigo," Diego resumed, with more confidence. "I 
 had not thought to reveal this, my secret, to you — nor to any 
 one, for that matter — ^but just to get a peep at my little daugh- 
 ter, and assure my anxious heart of her welfare. But since 
 coming here and seeing how mature she is my plans have 
 taken more definite shape. I shall leave at daybreak to-morrow, 
 if Don Mario can have my supplies ready on this short notice, 
 and — ^will take Carmen with me." 
 
 Jose struggled wearily to his feet. The color had left his 
 face, and ages seemed to bestride his bent shoulders. His voice 
 quavered as he slowly spoke. 
 
 "Leave me now, Don Diego. It were better that we should 
 not meet again until you depart." 
 
 "But, amifl-o— ah, I feel for you, believe me! You are at- 
 tached to the child — who would not be? Carhmba, what is this 
 world but a cemetery of bleaching hopes! But — how can I 
 ask it? Amigo, send the child to me at the house of the 
 Alcalde. I would hold her in my arms and feel a father's joy. 
 And bid the good Dofia Maria make her ready for to-morrow's 
 journey." 
 
 Josd turned to the man. An ominous calm now possessed 
 
 ,; y°^ ®^^<^ — ^^^ ^^^ Lucas district?" 
 
 "Qnien 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 
 
 120 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 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 loiter- 
 ing near, walked confidently and briskly to the house of Don 
 Mario. 
 
 Jose, 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. Jose 
 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. 
 
 "Padre dear, he couldn't say anything that could make 
 you unhappy — he just couldn't! God is everywhere, and you 
 are His child — and I am, too — and — and there just isn't any- 
 thing here but God, and we are in Him. Why, Padre, we are 
 in Him, just like the little fish in the lake! Isn't it nice to 
 know that — to really know it?" 
 
 Aye, if he had really known it he would not now be 
 stretched upon a bed of torment. Yet, Carmen knew it. And 
 his suffering was for her. Was he not really yielding to the 
 mesmerism of human events? Why, oh, why could he not 
 remain superior to thpm? Why continually rise and fall, 
 tossed through his brief years like a dry weed in the blast? 
 
 It was because he would know evil, and yield to its mes- 
 merism. His enemies were not without, but within. How 
 could he hope to be free until he had passed from self-con- 
 sciousness to the sole consciousness of infinite good? 
 
 "Padre dear, his bad thoughts have only the minus sign, 
 haven't they?" 
 
 Yes, and Jose's now cairried the same symbol of nothingness. 
 Carmen was linked to the omnipresent mind that is God; and 
 no power, be it Diego or his superior, Wenceslas, could effect 
 a separation. 
 
 But if Carmen was Diego's child, she must go with him, 
 
 18 121 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Jos^ could no longer endure this torturing thouglit. He rose 
 from the bed and sought Dofia Maria. 
 
 "Senora," he pleaded, "tell me again what you know of 
 Carmen's parents." 
 
 The good woman was surprised at the question, but could 
 add nothing to what Rosendo had already told him. He asked 
 to see again the locket. Alas! study it as he might, the portrait 
 of the man was wholly indistinguishable. The sweet, sad face 
 of the young mother looked out from its frame like a suffering 
 Magdalen. In it he thought he saw a resemblance to Carmen. 
 As for Diego, the child certainly did not resemble him in the 
 least. But years of dissipation and evil doubtless had wrought 
 their changes in his features. 
 
 He looked around for Carmen. She had -disappeared. He 
 rose and searched through the house for her. Dona Maria, 
 busy in the kitchen, had not seen her leave. His search futile, 
 he returned with heavy heart to his own house and sat down 
 to think. Mechanically he opened his Bible. 
 
 When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee. 
 Not "if," but "when." The sharp experiences of human ex- 
 istence are not to be avoided. But in their very midst the 
 Christ-principle is available to the faithful searcher and 
 worker. 
 
 Doiia Maria came with the midday meal. Clarmen had not 
 returned. Jose, alarmed b^ond measure, prepared to set out 
 in search of her. But at that moment one of Diego's peones 
 appeared at the door with his master's request that the child 
 be sent at once to him. At least, then, she was not in his 
 hands; and Jose breathed more freely. It seemed to him that, 
 should he see her in Diego's arms, he must certainly strangle 
 him. He shuddered at the thought. Only a few minutes be- 
 fore he had threatened to kill him! 
 
 He left his food untasted. Unspeakably wearied with his 
 incessant mental battle, he threw himself again upon his bed, 
 and at length sank into a deep sleep. 
 
 The shadows were gathering when he awoke with a start. 
 He heard a call from the street. Leaping from the bed, he 
 hastened to the door, just as Rosendo, swaying beneath his 
 pack, and accompanied by Lazaro Ortiz, rounded the corner 
 and made toward him. 
 
 "Hola, amigo Cura!" Rosendo shouted, his face radiant. 
 "Come and bid me welcome, and receive good news!" 
 
 At the same moment Carmen came flying toward them from 
 the direction of the shales. Jos^ instantly divined the motive 
 which had sent her out there. He turned his face to hide the 
 tears which sprang to his eyes. 
 
 122 
 
CARMEN A.RIZA 
 
 "Thank God!" he murmured in a choking voice. Then he 
 hastened to his faithful ally and clasped him in his arms. 
 
 CHAPTER 16 
 
 STRUGGLING vainly with his agitation, while the good tid- 
 ings which he could no longer hold fairly bubbled from 
 his lips, Rosendo dragged the priest into the parish house 
 and made fast the doors. Swinging his chair to the floor, he 
 hastily unstrapped his kit and extracted a canvas bag, which 
 he handed to Jos6. 
 
 "Padre," he exclaimed in a loud whisper, "we have found 
 it!" 
 
 "Found what?" the bewildered Jose managed to ask. 
 
 "Gold, Padre — gold! Look, the bag is full! H ombre I not 
 less than forty pesos oro — and more up there — quien sabe how 
 much ! Caramba-!" 
 
 - Rosendo fell into a chair, panting with excitement. Jose 
 sat down with quickening pulse and waited for the full story. 
 It was not long coming. 
 
 "Padre — I knew we would find it — ^but not this way ! Hom- 
 bre! It was back of Popales. I had been washing the sands 
 there for two days after my return. There was a town at that 
 place, years ago. The stone foundations of the houses can 
 still be seen. The Tigui was rich at that point then; but it is 
 washed out now. Bien, one morning I started out at daybreak 
 to prospect Popales creek, the little stream cutting back into 
 the hills behind the old settlement. There was a heavy mist 
 over the whole valley, and I could not see ten feet before my 
 face. Bien, I had gone up stream a long distance, perhaps 
 several miles, without finding more than a few colors, when 
 suddenly the mist began to clear, and there before me, only a 
 few feet away, stood a young deer, just as dumfounded as 
 I was." 
 
 He paused a moment for breath, laughing meanwhile at the 
 memory of his surprise. Then he resumed. 
 
 "Bueno, fresh venison looked good to me. Padre, living on 
 salt bagre and beans. But I had no weapon, save my machete. 
 So I let drive with that, and with all my strength. The big 
 knife struck the deer on a leg. The animal turned and started 
 swiftly up the mountain side, with myself in pursuit. Caramba, 
 that was a climb! But with his belly chasing him, a hungry 
 man will climb anything! Through palms and ferns and high 
 weeds, falling over rocks and tripping on ground vines we 
 
 123 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 went, clear to the top of the hill. Then the animal turned and 
 plunged down a glen. On the descent it traveled faster, and in 
 a few minutes had passed clean from my sight. Caramba, I 
 was angry!" 
 
 He stopped to laugh again at the incident. 
 
 "The glen," he continued, "ran down for perhaps a hundred 
 yards, and then widened into a clearing. I have been in the 
 Popales country many times, Padre, but I had never been to 
 the top of this mountain, nor had I ever seen this glen, which 
 seemed to be an ancient trail. So I went on down toward the 
 clearing. As I approached it I crossed what apparently was 
 the bed of an ancient stream, dry now, but with many pools 
 of water from the recent rains, which are very heavy in that 
 region. Bien, I turned and followed this dry bed for a long 
 distance, and at last came out into the open, I found myself 
 in a circular space, surrounded by high hills, with no opening 
 but the stream bed along which I had come. At the far end of 
 the basin-shaped clearing the creek bed stopped abruptly; and 
 I then knew that the water had formerly come over the cliff 
 above in a high waterfall, but had flowed in a direction oppo- 
 site to that of Popales creek, this mountain being the divide. 
 
 "Bueno; now for my discovery! I several times filled my 
 batea with gravel from the dry bed and washed it in one of the 
 pools. I got only a few scattered colors. But as I dug along 
 the margin of the bed I noticed what seemed to be pieces of 
 adobe bricks. I went on up one side of the bowl-shaped glen, 
 and found many such pieces, and in some places stones that 
 had served as foundations for houses at one time. So I knew 
 that there had been a town there, long, long ago. But it must 
 have been an Indian village, for had it been known to the 
 Spaniards I surely would have learned of it from my parents. 
 The ground higher up was strewn with the broken bricks. I 
 picked up many of the pieces and examined them. Almost 
 every one showed a color or two of gold; but not enough to 
 pay washing the clay from which they had been made. But— 
 and here is the end of my story— I have said that this open 
 space was shaped like a bowl, with all sides dipping sharply 
 to the center. It occurred to me that in the years — who knows 
 how many? — that have passed since this town was abandoned, 
 the heavy rains that had dissolved the mud bricks also must 
 have washed the mud and the gold it carried down into the 
 center of this basin, where, with great quantities of water 
 sweepmg over it every rainy season, the clay and sand would 
 gradually wash out, leaving the gold concentrated in the 
 center." 
 
 The old man stopped to light the thick cigar which he had 
 rolled durmg his recital. 
 
 124 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Caramba! Padre, it was a lucky thought! I located the 
 center of the big bowl as nearly as possible, and began to dig. 
 I washed some of the dirt taken a foot or two below the sur- 
 face. Hombrel it left a string of gold clear around the bateal 
 I became so excited I could scarcely dig. Every batea, as I got 
 deeper and deeper, yielded more and more gold! I hurried 
 back to the Tigui for my supplies; and then camped up there 
 and washed the sand and clay for two weeks, until I had to 
 come back to Simiti for food. Forty pesos oro in fifteen days ! 
 Caramba! And there is more. And all concentrated from the 
 mud bricks of that old, forgotten town in the mountains, miles 
 back of Popales! May the Virgin bless that deer and mend 
 its hurt leg!" 
 
 One hundred and sixty francs in shining gold flakes! And 
 who knew how much more to be had for the digging! 
 
 "Ah, Padre," mused Rosendo, "it is wonderful how things 
 turn out — that is, when, as the little Carmen says, you think 
 right! I thoiight I'd find it — I knew it was right! And here 
 it is! Caramba!" 
 
 At the mention of Carmen's name Jos6 again became 
 troubled. Rosendo as yet did not know of Die'go's presence in 
 Simiti. Should he tell him? It might lead to murder. Ro- 
 sendo would learn of -it soon enough; and Jose dared not cast 
 a blight upon the happiness of this rare moment. He would 
 wait. 
 
 As they sat reunited at the supper table in Rosendo's house, 
 a constant stream of townspeople passed and repassed thie 
 door, some stopping to greet the returned prospector, others 
 lingering to witness Rosendo's conduct when he should learn 
 of Diego's presence in the town, although no one would tell 
 him of it. The atmosphere was tense with suppressed excite- 
 ment, and Jose trembled with dread. Doiia Maria moved 
 quietly about, giving no hint of the secret she carried. Carmen 
 laughed and chatted, but did not again mention the man from 
 whose presence she had fled to the shales that morning. Who 
 could doubt that in the midst of the prevalent mental confusion 
 she had gone out there "to think"? And having performed 
 that duty, she had, as usual, left her problem with her imma- 
 nent God, 
 
 "I will go up and settle with Don Mario this very night," 
 Rosendo abruptly announced, as they rose from the table. 
 
 "Not yet, friend!" cried Jose quickly. "Lazaro has told you 
 of the revolution; and we have many plans to consider, now 
 that we have found gold. Come with me to the shales. We 
 will not be interrupted there. We can slip out through the 
 rear door, and so avoid these curious people. I have much to 
 discuss with you." 
 
 125 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Rosendo chuckled. "My honest debts first, buen Cura," 
 he said sturdily. And throwing back his shoulders he strutted 
 about the room with the air of a plutocrat. With his bare 
 feet, his soiled, flapping attire, and his swelling sense of self- 
 importance he cut a comical figure. 
 
 "But, Rosendo — " Jose was at his wits' end. Then a happy 
 thought struck him. "Why, man ! I want to make you captain 
 of the militia we are forming, and I must talk with you alone 
 first!" 
 
 The childish egotism of the old man was instantly touched. 
 
 "Capit&n! el capitdnl" he cried in glee. He slapped his 
 chest and strode proudly around the room. "Caramba! Capitdn 
 Don Rosendo Ariza, SI Ha! Shall I carry a sword and wear 
 gold braid? — But these fellows are mighty curious," he mut- 
 tered, looking out through the door at the loitering townsfolk. 
 "The shales, then. Padre! Close the front door, Carmencita." 
 
 Jose scarcely breathed until, skirting the shore of the lake 
 and making a detour of the town, he and Rosendo at length 
 reached the shale beds unnoticed. 
 
 "Rosendo, the gold deposit that you have discovered — ^is it 
 safe? Could others find it?" queried Jose at length. 
 
 "Never, Padre! No trail leads to it. And no one would 
 think of looking there for gold. I discovered it by the merest 
 chance, and I left no trace of my presence. Besides, there are 
 no gold hunters in that country, and very few people in the 
 entire district of Guamoco." 
 
 "And how long will it take you to wash out the deposit, do 
 you think?" 
 
 "Quien sabe? Padre. A year — two years — ^p^haps longer," 
 
 "But you cannot return to Guamoc6 until the rev0luti<a)i is 
 over." 
 
 "Bien, Padre, I will remain in Simiti a week or two. We 
 may then know what to expect of the revolution." 
 
 "You are not afraid?" 
 
 ."Of what? Caramba, no!" 
 
 Jose sighed. No one seemed to fear but himself. 
 
 "Rosendo, about the gold for Cartagena: how can we send 
 it, even when peace is restored?" 
 
 "Juan might go down each, month," Rosendo suggested. 
 
 "Impossible!- The expense would be greater than the 
 amount shipped. And it would not be safe. Besides, our work 
 must be done with the utmost secrecy. No one but ourselves 
 must know of your discovery. And no one else in Simiti must 
 know where we are sending the gold. Rosendo, it is a great 
 problem." 
 
 "Caramba, yes!" 
 
 126 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 The men lapsed into profound meditation. Then: 
 
 "Rosendo, the little Carmen makes great progress." 
 
 "Por supuesto! I knew she would. She. has a mind!" 
 
 "Have you no idea, Rosendo, who her parents might have 
 been?" 
 
 "None whatever, Padre." 
 
 "Has it ever occurred to you, Rosendo, that, because of her 
 deeply religious nature, possibly her father was a priest?" 
 
 "Caramba, no!" ejaculated Rosendo, turning upon Jos6. 
 "What puts that into your head, amigo?" 
 
 "As I have said, Rosendo," Jose answ.ered, "her religious 
 instinct." 
 
 "Bien, Senor Padre, you forget that priests are not re- 
 ligious." 
 
 "But some are, Rosendo," persisted Jose in a tone of pro- 
 test. 
 
 "Perhaps. But those who are do not have children," was 
 Rosendo's simple manner of settling the argument. 
 
 Its force appealed to Jos6, and he felt a shade of relief. But, 
 if Diego were not the father of Carmen, what motive had he 
 for wishing to take her with him, other than to train, her 
 eventually to become his concubine? The thought maddened 
 him. He almost decided to tell Rosendo. 
 
 "But, Padre, we came out here to talk about the militia of 
 which I am to be captain. Bien, we must begin work to- 
 morrow. Hotnbre, but the seiiora's eyes will stand out when 
 she sees me marching at the head of the company!" He 
 laughed like a pleased child. 
 
 "And now that we have gold. Padre, I must send to Carta- 
 gena for a gun. What would one cost?" 
 
 "You probably could not obtain one, Rosendo. The Gov- 
 ernment is so afraid of revolutions that it prohibits the im- 
 portation of arms. But even if you could, it would cost not 
 less than fifty pesos oro." 
 
 "Fifty pesos! Carambal" exclaimed the artless fellow. 
 "Then I get no gun ! But now let us name those who will 
 form the. company." 
 
 By dwelling on the pleasing theme, Jose managed to keep 
 Rosendo engaged until fatigue at length drove the old man 
 to seek his bed. The town was wrapped in darkness as they 
 passed through its quiet streets, and the ancient Spanish 
 lantern, hanging crazily from its moldering sconce on the 
 corner of Don Felipe's house, threw the only light into the 
 black mantle that lay upon the main thoroughfare. 
 
 At sunrise, Jose was awakened by Rosendo noisily entering 
 
 127 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 his house. A glance at the old man showed that he was labor- 
 ing under strong emotion. 
 
 "What sort of friendship is this," he demanded curtly, "that 
 you keep me from learning of Diego's presence in Simiti? It 
 was a trick you served me — and friends do not so to one an- 
 other!" He stood looking darkly at the priest. 
 
 "Have you seen him, then? Good heavens, Rosendo! what 
 have you done to him?" cried Jose, hastily leaving his bed. 
 
 "There, comfort yourself, Padre," replied Rosendo, a sneer 
 curling his lips. "Your friend is safe — for the present. He 
 and his negro rascals fled before sunrise." 
 
 "And which direction did they take?" 
 
 "Why do you ask? Would you go to them? Bueno, then 
 across the lake, toward the Juncal. Don Mario stocked their 
 boat last night, while you kept me out on the shales. Buen 
 arreglo, no?" 
 
 "Yes, Rosendo," replied Jose gladly, "an excellent arrange- 
 ment to keep you from dipping your hands in his foul blood. 
 Why, man! is your vision so short? Have you no thought of 
 Carmen and her future?" 
 
 "But— Dios/ he has spread the report that he is her father! 
 Caramba! For that I would tear him apart! He robbed me of 
 one child; and now — Caramba! Why did you let him go? — 
 why did you. Padre?" 
 
 Rosendo paced the floor like a caged lion, while great tears 
 rolled down his black cheeks. 
 
 "But, Rosendo, if you had killed him— what then? Im- 
 prisonment for you, suffering for us all, and the complete 
 wreck of our hopes. Is it worth it?" 
 
 "Na, Padre, but I would have escaped to Guamoc6, to the 
 gold I have discovered. There no one would have found me. 
 And you would have kept me supplied; and I would have given 
 you the gold I washed to care for her — " 
 
 The man sank into a chair and buried his head in his hands. 
 "Caramba!" he moaned. "But he will return when I am gone 
 — and — the Church is back of him, and they will come and 
 steal her away — " 
 
 How childish, and yet how great he was in his wonderful 
 love, thought Jose. He pitied him from the bottom of his 
 heart; he loved him immeasurably; yet he knew the old man's 
 judgment was unsound in this case. 
 
 "Come, Rosendo," he said gently, laying a hand upon the 
 bent head. "This is a time when expediency bids us suffer 
 an evil to remain for a little while, that a much greater good 
 may follow." 
 
 He hesitated. Then — "You do not think Diego is her 
 father?" 
 
 128 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "A thousand devils, no!" shouted Rosendo, springing up. 
 "He the father of that angel-child? Cielo! His brats v/ould 
 be serpents ! But I am losing time — " He turned to the door. 
 
 "Rosendo!" cried the priest in fresh alarm, "Where are 
 you going? What are you — " 
 
 "I am going after Diego! Juan and Lazaro go with me! 
 Before sundown that devil's carcass will be buzzard meat!" 
 
 Jose threw himself in front of Rosendo. 
 
 "Rosendo, think of Carmen! Would you kill her, too? If 
 you kill Diego nothing can save her from Wenceslas! Ro- 
 sendo, for God's sake, listen!" 
 
 But the old man, with his huge strength, tossed the frail 
 priest lightly aside and rushed into the street. Blind with 
 rage, he did not see Carmen standing a short distance from the 
 door. The child had been sent to summon him to breakfast. 
 Unable to check his momentum, the big man crashed full into 
 her and bore her to the ground beneath him. As she fell her 
 head struck the sharp edge of an ancient paving stone, and 
 she lay quite still, while the warm blood slowly triclded through 
 her long curls. 
 
 Uttering a frightened cry, Jose rushed to the dazed Ro- 
 sendo and got him to his feet. Then he picked up the child, 
 and, his heart numb with fear, bore her into the house. 
 
 Clasping Carmen fiercely in his arms, Jose tried to aid Dona 
 Maria in staunching the freely flowing blood. Rosendo, crazed 
 with grief, bent over them, giving vent to moans which, de- 
 spite his own fears, wrung the priest's heart with pity for the 
 suffering old man. At length the child opened her eyes. 
 
 "Praise God!" cried Rosendo, kneeling and showering kisses 
 upon her hands. "Loado sea el buen Diosl Caramba! Ca- 
 rambaf" 
 
 "Padre Rosendo," the girl murmured, smiling down at him, 
 "your thoughts were driving you, just like Benjamin drives his 
 oxen. And they were bad, or you wouldn't have knocked me 
 over." 
 
 "Bad!" Rosendo went to the doorway and squatted down 
 upon the dirt floor in the sunlight. "Bad!" he ejaculated. 
 "Caramba, but they were murder-thoughts!" 
 
 "And they tried to make you murder me, didn't they, padre 
 dear?" She laughed. "But it didn't really happen, anyway," 
 she added. 
 
 Rosendo buried his head in his hands and groaned aloud. 
 Carmen slipped down from Jose's lap and went unsteadily to 
 the old man. 
 
 "They were not yours, those thoughts, padre dear," putting 
 her arms around his neck. "But they were whipping you 
 
 129 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 hard, just as if you belonged to them. And see, it just shows 
 that bad thoughts can't do anything. Look, I'm all right!" 
 She stood off and smiled at him. 
 
 - Rosendo reached out and clasped her in his long arms. 
 "Chiquita" he cried, "if you were not, your old padre Ro- 
 sendo would throw himself into the lake!" 
 
 "More bad thoughts, padre dear!" She laughed and held 
 up a warning finger. "But I was to tell you the desayuno was 
 ready; and see, we have forgotten all about it!" Her merry 
 laugh rang through the room like a silver bell. 
 
 After breakfast Jose took Rosendo, still shaking, into the 
 parish house. "I think," he said gravely, "that we have learned 
 another lesson, have we not, amigo?" 
 
 Rosendo's head sank upon his great chest. 
 
 "And, if we are wise, we will profit by it — ^will we not, 
 compadre?" He waited a moment, then continued: 
 
 "I have been seeing in a dim way, amigo, that our thought 
 is always the vital thing to be reckoned with, more than we 
 have even suspected before. I believe- there is a mental law, 
 though i cannot formulate it, that in some way the thoughts 
 we hold use us, and become externalized in actions. You were 
 wild with fear for Carmen, and your thoughts of Diego were 
 murderous. Bien, they almost drove you to murder, and they 
 reacted upon the very one you most love. Can you not see it, 
 amigo?" 
 
 Rosendo looked up. His face was drawn. "Padre — I am 
 almost afraid to think of anything — now." 
 
 "Ah, amigo," said Jose with deep compassion, "I, too, have 
 had a deep lesson in thinking these past two days. I had 
 evolved many beautiful theories, and worked out wonderful 
 plans during these weeks of peace. Then suddenly came the 
 news of the revolution, and, presto! they all flew to pieces! 
 But Carmen^-nothing disturbs her. Is it because she is too 
 young to fear? I think not, amigo, I think not. I think, rather, 
 that it is because she is too wise." 
 
 "But — she is not of the earth. Padre." The old man shook 
 his head dubiously. 
 
 "Rosendo, she is! She is human, just as we are. But in 
 some way she has learned a great truth, and that is that wrong 
 thinking brings all the discord and woe that afflict the human 
 race. We know this is true, you and I. In a way we have 
 known it all our lives. But why, why do we not practice it? 
 Why do -I yield so readily to fear; and you to revenge? I 
 rather think if we loved our enemies we would have none, for 
 our only enemies are the thoughts that become externalized in 
 wrong thought-concepts. And even this externalization is only 
 
 130 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 in our own consciousness. It is there, and only there, that 
 we see evil." 
 
 "Quien sabe? Padre," replied Rosendo, slowly shaking his 
 head. "We know so little— so little!" 
 
 "But, Rosendo, we know enough to try to be like Carmen- — " 
 
 "Caramba, yes! And I try to be like her. But whenever 
 danger threatens her, the very devils seize me, and I am no 
 longer myself." 
 
 "Yes, yes; I know. But will not her God protect her? Can 
 not we trust her to Him?" Jos6 spoke with the conviction of 
 right, however inconsistent his past conduct might have been. 
 
 "True, Padre — and I must try to love Diego — I know — 
 though I hate him as the devil hates the cross ! Carmen would 
 say that he was used by bad thoughts, wouldn't she?" 
 
 "Just so. She would not see the man, but the impersonal 
 thought that seems to use him. And I believe she knows how 
 to meet that kind of thought." 
 
 "I know it. Padre. Bien, I must try to love him. I will 
 try. And — Padre, whenever he comes into my mind I will try 
 to think of him as God's child — though I know he isn't!" 
 
 Jos6 laughed loudly at this. "Hombrel" he exclaimed. 
 "You must not think of the human Diego as God's child! You 
 must always think of the real child of God for which this 
 human concept, Diego, stands in your consciousness. Do you 
 understand me?" 
 
 "No, Padre. But perhaps I can learn. I will try. But 
 Diego shall live. And — Bien, now let us talk about the com- 
 pany of militia. But here comes the Alcalde. Carambal what 
 does he want?" 
 
 With much oily ceremony and show of affection, Don Mario 
 greeted the pair. 
 
 "I bring a message from Padre Diego," he announced pomp- 
 ously, after the exchange of courtesies. "Bien, it is quite un- 
 fortunate that our friend Rosendo feels so hard toward him, 
 especially as Don Diego has so long entrusted Carmen to Ro- 
 sendo's care. But — his letter, Senor Padre," placing a folded 
 paper in Jose's hand. 
 
 Silently, but with swelling indignation, Jose read: 
 
 "Dear Brother In Christ: It is, as you must knew, because of our 
 good Rosendo's foolish anger that I relieve him of the embarrassment 
 of my presence in Simiti. Not that I fear bodily harm, but lest his 
 thoughtlessness urge him to attempt injury upon me; in which case noth- 
 ing but unhappiness could result, as my two negro servants would pro- 
 tect me with their own lives. I rather choose peace, and to that end 
 quietly depart. But I leave behind my bleeding heart in the little Car- 
 men; and I beg that you will at once band her over to the excellent 
 Don Mario, with whom I have made arrangements to have her sent to me 
 
 131 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 in dtie season, whether In Banco or Remedies, I can not at present say. 
 I am minded to make an excellent report of your parish to Don Wen- 
 ceslas, and I am sure he will lend you support in your labors for the 
 welfare of the good folk of Simitl. Do not forget to include; the little 
 locket with Carmen's effects when you deliver her to Don Mario. I as- 
 sure you of -my warm affection for you, and for Rosendo, who mistakes 
 in his zeal to persecute me, as he will some day learn; and I commend 
 you hojh to the protecting care of our blessed Mother Mary. 
 "I kiss your haind, as your servant in Christ, 
 
 "DIEGO GUILLBRMO POLO." 
 
 Jose looked long and fixedly at the Alcalde. "Don Mario," 
 he finally said, "do you believe Diega to be the father of 
 Carmen?" 
 
 "Cierto, Padre, I know it!" replied the official with fervor. 
 "He has the proofs!" 
 
 "And what ai-e they, may I ask?" 
 
 "I do not know. Padre; only that he has them. Surely the 
 child is his, and must be sent to him when he commands. 
 Meantime, you see, he gives the order to deliver her to me. 
 He has kindly arranged to relieve you and Rosendo of further 
 care of the girl." 
 
 "Don Mario," said Jose with terrible earnestness, "I will 
 give you the benefit of the doubt, and say that Diego has basely 
 deceived you. But as for him— he lies." 
 
 "Hombrel But I can not help if you disbelieve him. Still, 
 you must comply with his request; otherwise, the Bishop may 
 compel you to do so." 
 
 Jose realized the terrible possibility of truth iii this state- 
 ment. For an instant all his old despair rushed upon him. 
 Then he braced himself. Rosendo was holding his wrath in 
 splendid check, 
 
 "Bien, Don Mario," resumed Jose, after a long meditation. 
 "Let us ask our good Rosendo to leave us for a little moment 
 that we may with greater freedom discuss the necessary ar- 
 rangements. Bien, amigo!" holding up a hand to check Ro- 
 sendo, who was rising menacingly before the Alcalde. "You 
 will leave it to me." He threw Rosendo a significant look; and 
 the latter, after a momentary hesitation, bowed and passed out 
 of the room. 
 
 "A propdsito, amigo," resumed Jose, turning to the Alcalde 
 and assuming utter indifference with regard to Carmen. "As 
 you will recall, I stood security for Rosendo's debts. The 
 thirty pesos which he owes you will be ready this evening." 
 
 [ The Alcalde smiled genially and jubbed his fat palms to- 
 gether. "Mug bien," he murmured. 
 
 Jos6 reflected. Then: 
 
 "But, Don Mario, with regard to Carmen, justice must be 
 done, is it not so?" 
 
 132 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Cierto, Padre; and Padre Diego has the proofs — " 
 
 "Certainly; I accept your word for your conviction in the 
 matter. But you will a^ree- that there is something to be said 
 for Rosendo. He has fed, clothed, and sheltered the girl for 
 some eight years. Let us see, at the rate yoii charge your 
 peones, say, fifty pesos a day, that would amount to — " 
 
 He took paper and pencil from the table and made a few 
 figures. 
 
 " — to just fourteen hundred and sixty pesos oro," he con- 
 cluded. "This, then, is the amount now due Rosendo for the 
 care of Diego's child. You say he has made arrangements 
 with you to care for her until he can send for her. Bien, we 
 will deliver her to you for Diego, but only upon payment of 
 the sum which I have just mentioned. Otherwise, how will 
 Rosendo be reimbursed for the expense of her long mainte- 
 nance?" 
 
 "Ca — ram — bal Fourteen hundred and sixty pesos oro! 
 Why — it is a fortune!" ejaculated the outwitted Alcalde, his 
 eyes bulging over his puffy cheeks. 
 
 "And," continued Jose calmly, "if we deliver the girl to 
 you to-day, I will retain the thirty ' pesos oro which Rosendo 
 owes you, and you will stand surety for the balance of the 
 debt, fourteen hundred and thirty, in that case." 
 
 "Diablo! but I will do nothing of the kind!" exploded the 
 Alcalde. "Caramba! let Diego come and look after his own 
 brat!" 
 
 "Then we shall consider the interview at an end, no?" 
 
 "But my thirty pesos oro?" 
 
 "To-night. And as much more for additional supplies. We 
 are still working together, are we not, Don Mario?" he added 
 suggestively. 
 
 Jose in Simiti with money discounted a million Diegos 
 fleeing through the jungle. The Alcalde's heavy face melted 
 in a foolish grin. 
 
 "Cierto, buen Padre! and — La Libertad?" 
 
 "I have strong hopes," replied Jose with bland assurance, 
 while a significant look came into his face. Then he rose and 
 bowed the Alcalde out. "And, Don Mario — " 
 
 He put a finger on his lips. 
 
 " — ^W6 remain very silent, no?" 
 
 "Cierto, Padre, cierto! I am the grave itself!" 
 
 As the bulky official waddled off to his little shop, Jose 
 turned back into his house with a great sigh of relief. Another 
 problem had been met— temporarily. ' 
 
 He summoned Carmen to the day's lessons. 
 
 133 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 17 
 
 WITHIN the month Juan brought from Bodega Central the 
 glad news of the revolution's utter collapse. The anti- 
 clerical element, scenting treachery in their own ranks, 
 and realizing almost from the outset that the end was a matter 
 of only a few weeks, offered to capitulate on terms which they 
 felt would be less distressing to their pride than those which 
 their victors might dictate after inflicting a crushing defeat. 
 The conservatives did not take advantage of the fiasco, but 
 offered conciliation in the way of reapportioning certain minor 
 public offices, and a show of somewlxat lessened clerical in- 
 fluence. Peace followed rapidly. The fires of Jacobinism and 
 popery were again banked, while priest and politician, states- 
 man and orator set up the board and rearranged the pawns 
 for the next play. 
 
 Nothing further had been heard of Padre Diego during the 
 month, excepting that he had arrived at the settlement of 
 Juncal in a state of extreme agitation, and had hurriedly set 
 out that same day along the trail to the San Lucas district. Ro- 
 sendo, meanwhile, assured that Diego would not return in the 
 immediate future, yielded to Jose's persuasion and departed 
 at once for Guamoco on the news of the revolution's close. 
 Simiti had remained unmolested; and now, with the assurance 
 of indefinite peace, the old town dropped quickly back into her 
 wonted state of listless repose, and yielded to the drowsy, 
 dreamy influences that hover always about this scene of me- 
 diaeval romance. 
 
 Jose had recovered his equipoise; and even when Juan, 
 returning from his next trip down to the river, brought the 
 priest another sharp letter from Wenceslas, written in the 
 Bishop's name, he read it without a tremor. The letter com- 
 plained of Josd's silence, and especially of his failure to assist 
 the Catholic cause in this crisal hour by contributions of 
 Peter's Pence. Nor had any report been received in Cartagena 
 relative to the state of the parish of Simiti, its resources and 
 communicants; and not a peso had been offered to the support 
 of their so dear citadel at a time when its enemies threatened 
 its gates. Jose smiled happily as he penned his reply, for he 
 knew that with Rosendo's next return their contributions to 
 Cartagena would begin. That meant the quieting of Wences- 
 las, regardless of whatever report Diego might make. And it 
 was evident from this letter that neither Diego nor the Alcalde 
 had as yet communicated anything of a startling nature to 
 
 134 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Wenceslas regarding those thing$ to which the priest had con- 
 secrated himself in Simiti. 
 
 Jose's life was never before so full. And never so sweet. 
 To his little flock he was now preaching the Word of God only 
 as he could interpret it to .meet their simple needs. Gradually, 
 as he got closer to them, he sought to enlighten them and to 
 draw them at least a little way out of the dense materialism of 
 their present religious beliefs. He also strove to give them the 
 best of his own worldly knowledge, and to this end was talking 
 to them three nights a week in the church building, where the 
 simple people hung upon his words like children enwrapped in 
 fairy lore. He was holding regular Sunday services, and offer- 
 ing Masses during the week for those of his parishioners who 
 requested them, and who would have been shocked, puzzled, 
 and unhappy had he refused to do so, or attempted to prove 
 their uselessness. He was likewise saying diurnal Masses for 
 the little Maria, to whom, as she lay breathing her last in his 
 arms in Cartagena, he had given the promise to offer them 
 daily in her behalf for a year. 
 
 Nor was this the extent of his loving sacrifice for the girl. 
 He had already sent a small sum of money to Catalina by 
 Captain Julio, who promised to arrange at Calamar for its 
 transmission, and for the safe convoy of a similar small packet 
 monthly to Cartagena and into the hands of the two women 
 who were caring for the infant son of Wenceslas and the ill- 
 fated Maria. He had promised her that night that he would 
 care for her babe. And his life had long since shown what a 
 promise meant to him. He knew he would -be unable to learn 
 of the child's progress directly from these women, for they 
 were both illiterate. But Captain Julio brought an encourag- 
 ing message from them, and assured Jose that he would always 
 make inquiry for the babe on his trips down the river. Jose's 
 long-distance dealings with the genial captain had been con- 
 ducted through Juan, who had constituted himself the priest's 
 faithful servant and the distant worshiper of the child Carmen. 
 
 "Padre Jose," Juan had said one day, striving vainly to 
 hide his embarrassment, "the little Carmen grows very beauti- 
 ful. She is like the Pascua-flower, that shines through the 
 ferns in the caiio. She is like the great blue butterfly, that 
 floats on the sunbeams that sift through the forest trees." 
 
 "Yes, Juan, she is very beautiful." 
 
 "Padre, you love her much, is it not so?" 
 
 "Very much, indeed, Juan." 
 
 "And I, Padre, I, too, love her." He paused and dug the 
 hard ground with his bare toes. 
 
 "Padre," he resumed, "the little Carmen will marry — some 
 day, will she not?" 
 
 135 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Jose started. The thought had never occurred to him! 
 Carmen marry? After all, she was human, and — But, no, 
 he could not, he would not, think of it! 
 
 "Why, Juan — I — cannot say — " 
 
 "But, Padre, she will." Juan was growing bolder. "And — 
 and. Padre, I — I should like it if she would marry me. Ah, 
 Senor Padre, already I adore her!" 
 
 Jose could not be angry. The faithful lad was deeply sin- 
 cere. And the girl would reach the marriageable age of that 
 country in all too short a time. 
 
 "But, Juan," he remonstrated, "you are too young! And 
 Carmen — why, she is but a child!" 
 
 "True, Padre. But I am seventeen — ^.and I will wait for 
 her. Only say now that she shall be mine when the time 
 comes. Padre, say it now!" 
 
 Jose was deeply touched by the boy's earnest pleading. He 
 put his arm affectionately about the strong young shoulders. 
 
 "Wait, Juan, and see what develops. She is very, very 
 young. We must all wait. And, meanwhile, do you serve her, 
 faithfully, as you see Rosendo and me doing." 
 
 The boy's face brightened with hope. "Padre," he ex- 
 claimed, "I am her slave!" 
 
 Jose went back to his work with Carmen with his thought 
 full of mingled conjecture and resolve. He had thus far out- 
 lined nothing for the girl's future. Nor had he the faintest 
 idea what the years might bring forth. But he knew that, in a 
 way, he was aiding in the preparation of the child for some- 
 thing different from the dull, animal existence with which she 
 was at present surrounded, and that her path in life must 
 eventually lead far, far away from the shabby, crumbling town 
 which now constituted her material world. His task he felt 
 to be tremendous in the responsibility which it laid upon him. 
 What had he ever known of the manner of rearing children! 
 He had previously given the question of child-education but 
 scant consideration, although he had always held certain 
 radical ideas regarding it; and some of these he was putting to 
 the test. But had his present work been forecast while he lay 
 sunken in despair on the river steamer, he would have repu- 
 diated the prediction as a figment of the imagination. Yet the 
 gleam which flashed through his paralyzed brain that memora- 
 ble day in the old church, when ftosendo opened his full heart 
 to him, had roused him suddenly from his long and despondent 
 lethargy, and worked a quick and marvelous renovation in his 
 wasted life. Following the lead of. this unusual child, he was 
 now, though with many vicissitudes, slowly passing out of his 
 prison of egoism, and into the full, clear sunlight of a world 
 which he knew to be far less material than spiritual. 
 
 136 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 With the awakening had come the almost frenzied desire 
 to realize in Carmen what he had failed to develop within him- 
 self; a vague hope that she might fill the void which a life- 
 time of longing had expressed. A tremendous opportunity 
 now presented. Already the foundation had been well laid — 
 but not by earthly hands. His task was to build upon it; and, 
 as he did so, to learn himself. He had never before realized 
 more than faintly the awful power for good or evil which a 
 parent wields over a child. He had no more than the slightest 
 conception of the mighty problem of child-education. And now 
 Carmen herself had shown him that real education must be 
 reared upon a foundation wholly spiritual. Yet this, he knew, 
 was just what the world's educators did not do. He could see 
 now how in the world the religious instinct of the child is early 
 quenched, smothered into complete or partial extinction be- 
 neath the false tutelage of parents and teachers, to whom years 
 and adult stature are synonymous with wisdom, and who 
 themselves have learned to see the universe only through the 
 opaque lenses of matter and chance. 
 
 "If children were not falsely educated to know all manner 
 of evil," he mused, "what spiritual powers might they not 
 develop in adult life, powers that are as yet not even imagined ! 
 But their primitive religious instinct is regarded by the world- 
 ly-wise parent as but a part of the infant existence, which must 
 soon give place to the more solid and real beliefs and opinions 
 which the world in general regards as established and conven- 
 tional, even though their end is death. And so they teach their 
 children to make evil real, even while admonishing them to 
 protect themselves" against it and eventually so to rise as to 
 overcome it, little realizing that the carnal belief of the reality 
 of evil which a child is taught to accept permeates its pure 
 thought like an insidious poison, and becomes externalized in 
 the conventional routine existence of mind in matter, soul in 
 body, a few brief years of mingled good and evil, and then 
 darkness — the end here certain; the future life a vague, im- 
 possible conjecture." 
 
 Jose determined that Carmen's education should be spirit- 
 ual, largely because he knew, constituted as she was, it could 
 not well be otherwise. And he resolved that from his teach- 
 ings she should glean nothing but happiness, naught but good. 
 With his own past as a continual warning, he vowed first that 
 never should the mental germ of fear be planted within this 
 child's mind. He himself had cringed like a coward before it 
 all his desolate life. And so his conduct had been consistently 
 slavish, specious, and his thought stamped with the brand of 
 the counterfeit. He knew not how much longer he must strug- 
 
 19 137 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 gle -with it. But he knew that, if he would progress, the war- 
 fare must go on, until at length he should put it under his feet. 
 His mind still bore the almost ineradicable mold of the fear 
 deeply graven into it by the ignorant opinions, the worldly, 
 material, unspiritual beliefs of his dear but unwise parents. 
 His life had been hedged with baleful shadows because of it; 
 and over every bright picture there hung its black draping. 
 As he looked back over the path along which he had come, he 
 could see every untoward event, every unhappiness and bitter 
 disappointment, as the externalization of fear in some form, 
 the germ of which had been early planted in the fertile soil 
 of his plastic brain. Without it he might have risen to tower- 
 ing heights. Under its domination he had sunk until the swirl- 
 ing stream of life had eddied him upon the desolate shores of 
 Simiti. In the hands of the less fearful he had been a puppet. 
 In his own eyes he was a fear-shaped manikin, the shadow of 
 God's real man. The fear-germ had multiplied within him a 
 billionfold, and in the abundant crop had yielded a mental de- 
 pression and deep-seated melancholy that had utterly stifled 
 his spirit and dried the marrow of his bones. 
 
 They were not pleasant, these thoughts. But now Jose 
 could draw from them something salutary, something definite 
 to shape and guide his work with Carmen. She, at least, should 
 not grow up the slave of fearsome opinions and beliefs born of 
 dense ignorance. Nor should the baseless figments of puerile 
 religious systems find lodgment within her clear thought. The 
 fear element, upon which so much of so-called Christian be- 
 lief has been reared, and the damnable suggestions of hell 
 and purgatory, of unpardonable sin and endless suffering, the 
 stock-in-trade of poet, priest and prelate up to and overlap- 
 ping our present brighter day, should remain forever a closed 
 volume to this child, a book as wildly imaginative and as un- 
 acceptable as the fabled travels of Maundeville. 
 
 "I Jjelieve," he would murmur to himself, as he strolled 
 alone in the dusk beside the limpid lake, "that if I could plant 
 myself firmly on the Scriptural statement that God is love, 
 that He is good; and if I could regard Him as infinite mind, 
 while at the same time striving to recognize no reality, no in- 
 telligence or life in things material, I could eventually triumph 
 over the whole false concept, and rise out of beliefs of sickness, 
 discord, and death, into an unalterable consciousness of good 
 only." 
 
 He had made a beginning when he strove to realize that 
 man is not separated from God; that God is not a far-off ab- 
 straction; and that infinite mind is, as Carmen insisted, "every- 
 where." 
 
 138 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "It is only the five physical senses that tell us evil is real," 
 he reflected. "Indeed, without their testimony we would be 
 utterly unconscious of evil! And I am convinced that their 
 testimony is specious, and that we see, hear, and feel only in 
 thought, or in belief. We think the sensations of seeing, hear- 
 ing, and feeling come to us through the medium of these senses 
 as outward, fleshly contrivances, which in some way communi- 
 cate with the mind and bridge the gulf between the material 
 and the mental. In reality, we do but see, hear and feel our 
 own thoughts! The philosophers, many of them, said as much 
 centuries ago. So did Jesus. But — the human mind has been 
 mesmerized, simply mesmerized!" 
 
 These things he pondered day by day, and watched to see 
 them wrought out in the life of Carmen. "Ah^ yes," he would 
 sometimes say, as spiritual ideas unfolded to him, "you evolve 
 beautiful theories, my good Jos6, and you say many brave 
 things. But, when the day of judgment comes, as it did when 
 Juan brought you the news of the revolution, then, alas! your 
 theories fly to pieces, and you find yoursielf very human, very 
 material, and your God hidden behind the distant clouds. 
 When the test comes, you find you cannot prove your beliefs." 
 
 Yet the man did not often indulge in self-condemnation, 
 for somehow he knew his ideas were right. When he realized 
 the character and specious nature of evil, and realized, too, 
 that "by thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words 
 thou shalt be condemned," he knew that the stirring up of 
 evil by good, and the shaking of the ancient foundations of 
 carnal belief within his mentality, might mean fiery trials, still 
 awaiting him. And yet, the crown was for him who should 
 overcome. Overcome what? The false opinions of mankind, 
 the ignorant beliefs in matter and evil. For what, aftier all, is 
 responsible for all the evil in this world of ours? What but a 
 false concept of God? "And if I keep my nose buried forever 
 in matter, how can I hope to see God, who is Spirit? And how 
 can I follow the Christ Unless I think as he thought?" he said. 
 
 But it was in the classroom with Carmen that he always 
 received his greatest stimulus. 
 
 "See, Padre dear," she said one day, "if I erase a wrong 
 figure and then set down the right one instead, I get the right 
 answer. And it is just like that when we think. If we always 
 put good thoughts in the place of the bad ones, why, every- 
 thing comes out right, doesn't it?" 
 
 Jose smiled at the apt comparison. "Of course, chiquita," 
 he replied. "Only, in your algebra you know which are the 
 right figures to put down. But how do you know which 
 thoughts are right?" 
 
 139 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "I always know. Padre. I can't make even the least mistake 
 about the thoughts. Why, it is easier to mistake with figures 
 than it is with thoughts." 
 
 "How is that, little one?" 
 
 "Because, if you always think God first, you can never 
 think wrong. Now can you? And if you think of other things 
 first y.ou are almost sure to think of the wrong thing, is it not 
 so. Padre?" 
 
 The priest had to admit the force of her statement. 
 
 "And, you know. Padre dear," the girl went on, "when I 
 understand the right rule in algebra, the answer just comes of 
 itself. Well, it is so with everything when we understand that 
 God is the right rule — ^you call Him principle, don't you? — 
 well, when we know that He is the only rule for everything, 
 then the answers to all our problems just come of themselves." 
 
 Aye, thought Jose, the healing works of the great Master 
 were only the "signs following," the "answers" to the people's 
 problems, the sure evidence that Jesus understood the Christ- 
 principle. 
 
 "And when you say that God is the right rule for every- 
 thing, just what da you mean, cftiguifo?" 
 
 "That He is everywhere," the girl replied. 
 
 "That He is infinite and omnipresent good^ then?" the priest 
 amplified. 
 
 "He is good — ^and everywhere," the child repeated firmly. 
 
 "And the necessary corollary of that is, that there is no 
 evil," Jose added. 
 
 "I don't know what you mean by corollary. Padre dear. 
 It's a big word, isn't it?" 
 
 "I mean — I think I know how you would put it, little one — 
 if God is everywhere, then there is nothing bad. Is that right?" 
 
 "Yes, Padre. Don't you see?" 
 
 Assuredly he saw. He saw that a fact can have no real 
 opposite; that any predicated opposite must be supposition. 
 And evil is the supposition; whereas good is the fact. The 
 latter is "plus,'' and the former "minus." No wonder the 
 origin of evil has never been found, although humanity has 
 struggled with the problem for untold ages! Jesus diagnosed 
 evil as a lie. He gave it the minus sign, the sign of nothing- 
 ness. The world has tried to make it positive, something. 
 From the false sense of evil as a reality has come the equally 
 false sense of man's estrangement from God, through some 
 fictitious "fall"— a curse, truly, upon the human intellect, but 
 not of God's infliction^ For false belief always curses with a 
 reign of discord, which endures until the belief becomes cor- 
 rected by truth. From the beginning, the human race has 
 
 140 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 vainly sought to postulate an equal and opposite to everything 
 in the realm of both the spiritual and material. It has been 
 hypnotized, obsessed, blinded, by this false zeal. The resultant 
 belief in "dualism" has rendered hate the equal and opposite 
 of Love, evil the equal and opjjosite of Good, and discord the 
 eternal opponent of Harmony. To cope with evil as a reality 
 is to render it immortal in our consciousness. To know its un- 
 reality is to master it. 
 
 "Throughout life," Jos6 mused, "every positive has its 
 negative, every affirmation its denial. But the opposites never 
 mingle. And, moreover, the positive always dispels the nega- 
 tive, thus proving the specious nature of the latter. Darkness 
 flees before the light, and ignorance dissolves in the morning 
 rays of knowledge. Both cannot be real. The positive alone 
 bears the stamp of immortality. Carmen has but one funda- 
 mental rule: God is everywhere. This gives her a sense of 
 immanent power, with which all things are possible." 
 
 Thus with study and meditation the days flowed past, with 
 scarcely a ripple to break their quiet monotony. Rosendo 
 came, and went again. He brought back at the end of his 
 first month's labors on the newly discovered deposit some 
 ninety pesos in gold. He had reached the bed-rock, and the 
 deposit was yielding its maximum; but the yield would con- 
 tinue for many months, he said. His exultation" overleaped all 
 bounds, and it was with difficulty that Jose could bring him to 
 a consideration of the problems still confronting them. 
 
 "I think, Rosendo," said the priest, "that we will send, 
 say, thirty pesos this month to Cartagena; the same next 
 month; and then increase the amount slightly. This method 
 is sure to have a beneficial effect upon the ecclesiastical author- 
 ities there." 
 
 "Fine!" ejaculated Rosendo. "And how will you send it. 
 Padre?" 
 
 Jose pondered the situation. "We cannot send the gold 
 direct to the Bishop, for that would excite suspicion, Masses, 
 you know, are not paid for in gold dust and nuggets. And we 
 have no money. Nor could we get the gold exchanged for bills 
 here in Simiti, even if we dared run the risk of our discovery 
 becoming known." 
 
 For the Alcalde was already nosing about in an effort to 
 ascertain the source of the gold with which Rosendo had just 
 cancelled his debt and purchased further supplies. Jose now 
 saw that, under existing conditions, it would be utterly im- 
 possible for Rosendo to obtain titles to mineral properties 
 through Don Mario. He spent hours seeking a solution of the 
 involved problem. Then, just before Rosendo departed again 
 for the mountains, Josd called him into the parish house. 
 
 141 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Rosendo, I think I see a way. Bring me one of the paper 
 boxes of candles which you have just purchased from Don 
 Mario." 
 
 "Carambal Padre," queried the surprised Rosendo, as he 
 returned with the box, "and what is this for?" 
 
 "I merely want to get the name of the firm which sold the 
 candles. The Empresa Alemania, Barranquilla. Good! Now 
 listen. I have a method that is roundabout, but certainly 
 promises much. I will write to the firm, appointing them my 
 agents while I pose as Jose Rincon, miner. The agency estab- 
 lished, I will send them our gold each month, asking them to 
 return to me its equivalent in bills, deducting, of course, their 
 commission. Then I will send these bills, or such part as we 
 deem wise, to Wenceslas. Each month Juan, who will be 
 sworn to secrecy, will convey the gold to Bodega Central in 
 time to meet Captain Julio's boat. The captain will both de- 
 liver the gold to the Empresa Alemania, and bring back the 
 bills in exchange. Then, from Simiti, and in the regular 
 manner, I will send the small packet of bills to Wenceslas as 
 contributions from the parish. We thus throw Don Mario off 
 the scent, and arouse no suspicion in any quarter. As I receive 
 mail matter at various times, the Alcalde will not know but 
 what I also receive consignments of money from my own 
 sources. I think the plan will work out. Juan already be- 
 longs to us. What, then, is there to fear?" 
 
 And so, as it was arranged, it worked out. Juan reveled in 
 the honor of such intimate relations with the priest and Ro- 
 sendo, and especially in the thought that he was working in 
 secret for the girl he adored. By the time Rosendo returned 
 again from Guamoc6, Jose had sent his first consignment of 
 money to the Bishop, carefully directing it to Wenceslas, per- 
 sonally, and had received an acknowledgment in a letter which 
 caused him deep thought. 
 
 "To further stimulate the piety of your communicants," it read, "and 
 arouse them to more generous contributions to our glbrioas cause, you 
 will inform them that, if their monetary contributions do not diminish 
 in amount for the coming year, they will be made participants in the four 
 solemn Novenas which will be offered by His Grace, the Bishop of Car- 
 tagena. Moreover, if their contributions increase, the names of the vari- 
 ous contributors will be included in the one hundred Masses which are 
 to be offered in December at the Shrine of Our Lady of Chiquinqula for 
 their spiritual and temporal welfare. Contributors will also have a High 
 Mass after death, offered by one of His Grace's assistants, as soon as 
 the notification of death is received here. In addition to these, His 
 Grace, always mindful of the former importance of the parish of Simiti, 
 and acknowledging as its special patron the ever blessed Virgin, has 
 arranged to bestow the episcopal blessing upon an image of the Sacred 
 Heart, which will be shipped to his faithful children in Simiti when the 
 
 142 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 amount of their contributions shall have met the expense thereof. Let 
 us keep ever in mind the pious words of the BI. Margaret Mary, who has 
 conveyed to us the assurance which she received directly from Our 
 Blessed Lord that He finds great joy in beholding His Sacrgd Heart vis- 
 ibly represented, that it may touch the hard hearts of mankind. Our 
 blessed Saviour promised the gracious Margaret Mary that He would 
 pour out abundantly of His rich treasure upon all who honor this image, 
 and that it shall draw down from heaven every blessing upon those who 
 adore and reverence it. Inform your parishioners that the recital of the 
 offering, 'O, Sacred Heart of Jesus, may it be everywhere adored!' car- 
 ries a hundred days' indulgence each time. 
 
 "You will bear in mind that the General Intention for this month 
 is The Conversion of America. Though our Church is founded on the 
 Rock, and is to last forever, so that the gates of hell shall never pre- 
 vail against her, nevertheless she has. been called upon to withstand 
 many assaults from her enemies, the advocates of modernism, in the land 
 of liberal thought to our north. These assaults, though painful to her, 
 can never be fatal to her spiritual life, although they unfortunately are 
 so to many of her dear children, who yield to the insidious persuasions 
 of the heretics who do the work of Satan among the Lord's sheep. New 
 and fantastic religions are springing up like noxious weeds in America 
 of the north, and Increasing infidelity is apparent on every hand. The 
 Christ prayed that there might be one fold and one shepherd. It is for 
 us this month to pray for the great day when they will be accomplished. 
 But we must be united over the interests of the Sacred Heart. There- 
 fore, liberal plenary indulgences will be granted to those of the faithful 
 who contribute to this glorious cause, so dear to the heart of the blessed 
 Saviour. We enclose leaflets indicating the three degrees, consisting of 
 the Morning Offering, Our Father and ten Hail Marys daily, for the Pope 
 and his interests, and the degree of reparation, by which a plenary in- 
 dulgence may be gained. 
 
 "Stimulate your parishioners to compete joyfully for the statue of 
 the Blessed Virgin, which we mentioned to you in our former communi- 
 cation. Teach them, especially, their entire dependence on Mary, on her 
 prayers to God for their deliverance and welfare. Reveal to them her 
 singularly powerful Influence in the shaping of all great historical events 
 of the world; how never has she refused our prayers to exert her mighty 
 influence with her all-potent Son, when she has been appealed to in sin- 
 cerity, for it rejoices the Sacred Heart of Jesus to yield to the requests of 
 His Blessed Mother. Mary is omnipotent, for she can ask no favor of 
 her Son that He will not grant. Competition for possession of this sacred 
 image, which carries the potent blessing of His Holiness, should be re- 
 garded a privilege, and you will so impress it upon the minds of your 
 parishioners. 
 
 "Finally, His Grace requests that you will immediately procure what- 
 ever information you may regarding the mineral resources of the dis- 
 trict of Guamoc6, and indicate upon a sketch the location of its various 
 mines, old or new, as known to its inhabitants. Diligent and careful in- 
 quiry made by yourself among the people of the district will reveal many 
 hidden facts regarding its resources, which should be made known to His 
 Grace at the earliest possible moment, in view of the active preparations 
 now in progress to forestall the precipitation of another political up- 
 rising with its consequent strain upon our Holy Church." 
 
 "Money! money! money!" cried Jose. "One would think 
 the Christ had established his Church solely for gold!" 
 
 He folded the letter and looked out through the rear door 
 
 143 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 to where Carmen sat, teaching Cucumbra a new trick. He 
 realized then that never before had he been so far from the 
 Holy Catholic faith as at that moment. And Carmen — 
 
 "Good God!" he muttered, as his eyes rested upon the child. 
 "If the Church should get possession of Carmen, what would 
 it do with her? Would it not set its forces to work to teach 
 her that evil is a reality — that it is as powerful as good — -that 
 God formed man and the universe out of dust — that Jesus 
 came down from a starry heaven that he might die to appease 
 the wrath of a man-like Father — that Mary pleads with the 
 Lord and Jesus, and by her powerful logic induces them to 
 spare mankind and grant their foolish desires — all the dribble 
 and rubbish of outlandish theology that has accumulated 
 around the nucleus of pure Christianity like a gathering snow- 
 ball throughout the ages! To make the great States up north 
 dominantly Catholic, Rome must — simply must — have the 
 children to educate, that she may saturate their absorbent 
 minds with these puerile, undemonstrable, pagan beliefs before 
 the child has developed its own independent, thought. How 
 wise is she — God, how worldly wise and cunrjing! And I still 
 her priest — " 
 
 Carmen came bounding in, followed pellmell by Cucumbra. 
 Cantar-las-horas stalked dignifiedly after her, and stopped at 
 the threshold, where he stood with cocked head and blinking 
 eyes, wondering what move his animated young mistress would 
 make next. 
 
 "Padre!" she exclaimed, "the sun is down, and it is time 
 for our walk!" 
 
 She seized his hand and drew him out into the road. The 
 play of her expression as she looked up and laughed into his 
 face was like the dance of sunbeams on moving water. They 
 turned down the narrow street which led to the lake. As was 
 her wont, in every object about her, in every trifling event, the 
 child discovered rich treasures of happiness. The pebbles 
 which she tossed with her bare toes were mines of delight. 
 The pigs, which turned up their snouts expectantly as she 
 stooped Jo scratch their dusty backs — the matronly hens that 
 followed clucking after her— the black babies that toddled out 
 to greet the Cura— all yielded a wealth of delight and interest. 
 She seemed to Jose to uncover joy by a means not unlike the 
 divining rod, which points to hidden gold where to the eye 
 there is naught but barren ground. 
 
 Near the margin of the lake they stopped at the door of a 
 cottage, where they were awaited by the matron who displayed 
 a finger wrapped in a bit of cloth. She greeted the priest 
 courteously. 
 
 144 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Seiior Padre," she said, "this morning I had the misfortune 
 to cut my finger while peeling yuccas, and I am not sure 
 ■whether a piece of the skin went into the pot or not. Bueno, 
 the yuccas are all cooked; and now my man says he will not 
 eat them, for this is Friday, and there may be meat with the 
 yuccas. What shall I do? Was it wicked to cook the yuccas, 
 not knowing if a bit of the skin from my finger had fallen into 
 the pot?" 
 
 Jose stood dumfounded before such ignorant credulity. 
 Then he shook his head and replied sadly, "No, senora, it was 
 not wicked. Tell your man he may eat the yuccas." 
 
 The woman's face brightened, and she hastened into the 
 house to apprise her spouse of the Cura's decision. 
 
 "God help us!" muttered Jose under his breath. "Two 
 thousand years of Christianity, and still the world knows not 
 what Jesus taught!" 
 
 "But you told me he had good thoughts. Padre dear," said 
 the little voice at his side, as he walked slowly away with 
 bended head. "And that is enough to know." 
 
 "Why do you say that. Carmen?" asked Jose, somewhat 
 petulantly. 
 
 "Because, Padre, if he had good thoughts, he thought about 
 God — didn't he? And if he thought about God, he always 
 thought of something good. And if we always think about 
 good — ^well, isn't that enough?" 
 
 Jose's eyes struggled with hers. She almost invariably 
 framed her replies with an interrogation, and, whether he would 
 or not, he. must perforce give answers which he knew in his 
 heart were right, and yet which the sight of his eyes all too 
 frequently denied. 
 
 "Padre, you are not thinking about God now — are you?" 
 
 "I am, indeed, child!" he answered abruptly. 
 
 "Well — perhaps you are thinking about Him; but you are 
 not thinking with Him — are you? — the way He thinks. You 
 know,. He sends us His thoughts, and we have to pick them 
 out from all the others that aren't His, and then think them. 
 If the sefiora and her man had been thinking God's thoughts, 
 they wouldn't have been afraid to eat a piede of meat on Fri- 
 day — ^would they?" 
 
 Cucumbra, forgetting his many months of instruction, sud- 
 denly yielded to the goad of animal instinct and started along 
 the beach in mad pursuit of a squealing pig. Carmen dashed 
 after him. As Jose watched her lithe, active little body bob- 
 bing over the shales behind the flying animals, she seemed to 
 him like an animated sunbeam sporting among the shadows. 
 
 "Why should life," he murmured aloud, "beginning in ra- 
 
 145 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 diance, proceed in ever deepening gloom, and end at last in 
 black night? Why, but for the false education in evil which 
 is inflicted upon us! The joys, the unbounded bliss of child- 
 hood, do indeed gush from its innocence — its innocence of the 
 blighting belief in mixed good and evil — innocence of the false 
 beliefs, the undemonstrable opinions, the mad worldly ambi- 
 tionSi the carnal lust, bloated pride, and black ignorance of 
 men! It all comes from not knowing God, to know whom is 
 life eternal ! The struggle and mad strife of man — ^what does it 
 all amount to, when 'in the end he shall be a fool'? Do we in 
 this. latest of the centuries, with all our boasted progress in 
 knowledge, really know so much, after all? Alas! we know 
 nothing — nothing!" 
 
 "Come, Padre," cried Carmen, returning to him, "we are 
 going to just try now to have all the nice thoughts we can. 
 Let's just look all around us and see if we can't think good 
 thoughts about everything. And, do you know. Padre dear, I've 
 tried it, and when I look at things and something tries to make 
 me see if there could possibly be anything bad about them — 
 why, I find there can't ! Try it, and see for yourself." 
 
 Jos6 knew it. He knew that the minds of men are so pro- 
 faned by constantly looking at evil that their thoughts are 
 tinged with it. He was striving to look up. But in doing so he 
 was combating a habit grown mighty by years of indulgence. 
 
 "When you always think good about a thing," the girl went 
 on, "you never can tell what it will do. But good always comes 
 from it. I know. 1 do it all the time. If things look bad, I 
 just say, 'Why look, here's something trying to tell me that two 
 and two are seven!' And then it goes away." 
 
 "Your purity and goodness resist evil involuntarily, little 
 one," said Jose, more to himself than to the child. 
 
 "Why, Padre, what big words!" 
 
 "No, little one, it is just the meaning of the words that is 
 big," he replied. 
 
 The girl was silent for some moments. Then: 
 
 "Padre dear, I never thought of it before— but it is true: 
 we don't see the meaning of words with the same eyes that we 
 see trees and stones and people, do we?" 
 
 Jos6 studied the question. "I don't quite understand what 
 you mean, chiquita," he was finally forced to answer. 
 
 "Well," she resumed, "the meaning of a word isn't some- 
 thing that we can pick up, like a stone; or see, as we see the 
 lake out there." 
 
 "No, Carmen, the meaning is spiritual — mental; it is not 
 physically tangible. It is not seen with the fleshly eyes." 
 
 "The meaning of a word is the inside of it, isn't it?" 
 
 146 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Yes, it is the inside, the soul, of the word." 
 
 "And -we don't see the word, either, do we?" She shook her 
 browji curls in vigorous negation. 
 
 "No, little one, we see only written or printed symbols; or 
 hear only sounds that convey to us the words. But the words 
 themselves are mental. We do not see them." 
 
 "No, we think them." She meditated a while. "But, Padre 
 dear," she continued, "the inside, or soul, of everything is 
 mental. We never see it. We have to think it." 
 
 "Yes, you are right. The things we think we see are only 
 symbols. They stand for the real things." 
 
 "Padre, they don't stand for anything!" she replied abruptly. 
 
 Jose looked down at her in surprise. He waited. 
 
 "Padre, the real things are the things we don't see. And the 
 things we think we see are not real at all!" 
 
 Jose had ere this learned not to deny her rugged state- 
 ments, but to study them for their inner meaning, which the 
 child often found too deep for her limited vocabulary to ex- 
 press. 
 
 "The things we think we see," he said, though he was ad- 
 dressing his own thought, "are called the physical. The things 
 we do not see or cognize with .the physical senses are called 
 mental, or spiritual. Well?" he queried, looking down again 
 into the serious little face. 
 
 "Padre, the very greatest things are those that we don't see 
 at all!" 
 
 "True, chiquita. Love, life, joy, knowledge, wisdom, health, 
 harmony — all these are spiritual ideas. The physical some- 
 times manifests them — and sometimes does not. And in the 
 end, called death, it ceases altogether to manifest them," 
 
 "But — these things — the very greatest things there are — are 
 the souls of everything — is it not so. Padre dear?" 
 ' "It must be, chiquita." 
 
 "And all these things came from God, and He is everywhere, 
 and so He is the soul of everything, no?" 
 
 He made the same affirmative reply. 
 
 "Padre — don't you see it? — we are not seeing things all 
 around us! We don't see real things that we call trees and 
 stones and people! We see only what we think we see. We 
 see things that are not there at all! We see — " 
 
 "Yes, we see only our thoughts. And we think we see them 
 as objects all about us, as trees, and houses, and people. But 
 in the final analysis we see only thoughts," he finished. 
 
 "But these thoughts do not come from God," she insisted. 
 
 "No," he replied slowly, "because they often manifest dis- 
 cord and error, i think I grasp what is struggling in your 
 mind, chiquita. God is — " 
 
 147 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "Everywhere," she interrupted. 
 
 "He is everywhere, and therefore He is the soul — the inside 
 — the heart and core — of everything. He is mind, and His 
 thoughts are real, and are the only real thoughts there are. 
 He is truth. The opposite of truth is a lie. But, in reality, 
 truth cannot have, an opposite. Therefore, a lie is a supposi- 
 tion. And so the thought that we seem to see externalized all 
 about us, and that we call physical objects, is supposition only. 
 And, a supposition being unreal, the whole physical universe, 
 including material man, is unreal — is a supposition, a supposi- 
 tion of mixed good and evil, for it manifests both. It is the lie 
 about God. And, since a lie has no real existence, this human 
 concept of a universe and mankind composed of matter is 
 utterly unreal, an image of thought, an illusion, existing in 
 false thought only— a belief — a supposition pure and simple!" 
 
 As he talked he grew more and more animated. He seemed 
 to forget the presence of the child, and appeared to be ad- 
 dressing only his own insistent questionings. 
 
 They walked along together in silence for some moments. 
 Then the girl again took up the conversation. 
 
 "Padre," she said, "you know, you taught me to prove my 
 problems in arithmetic and algebra. Well, I have proved 
 something about thinking,, too. If I think a thing, and just 
 keep thinking it, pretty soon I see it — in some way — outside 
 of me." 
 
 A light seemed to flash through Jose's mental chambers, and 
 he recalled the words of the explorer in Cartagena. Yes, that 
 was exactly what he had said — "every thought that comes into 
 the mind tends to become externalized, either upon the body 
 as a physical condition, or in the environment, or as an event, 
 good or bad." It was a law, dimly perceived, but nevertheless 
 sufficiently understood in its workings to indicate a tremendous 
 field as yet all but unknown. The explorer had called it the 
 law of the externalization of thought. "As a man thinketh in 
 his heart, so is he," said the Master, twenty centuries before. 
 Did he recognize the law? 
 
 Jose's thought swept over his past. Had his own wrong . 
 thinking, or the wrong thought of others, been the cause of his 
 unhappiness and acute mental suffering? But why personalize 
 it? What difference whether it be called his, or the Arch- 
 bishop's, or whose? Let it suffice that it was false thought, 
 undirected by the Christ-principle, God, that had been exter- 
 nalized in the wreckage which he now called his past life. 
 
 He again stood face to face with the most momentous ques- 
 tion ever propounded by a waiting world: the question of 
 causation. And he knew now that causation was wholly 
 spiritual. 
 
 148 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Padre dear, you said just now that God was mind. But, 
 if that is true, there is only one mind, for God is everywhere." 
 
 "It must be so, chiquita," dreamily resplonded the priest. 
 
 "Then He is your mind and my mind, is it not so?" 
 
 "Yes—" 
 
 "Then, if He is my mind, there just isn't anything good that 
 I can't do." 
 
 Twilight does not linger in the tropics, and already the 
 shadows that stole down through the valley had wrapped the 
 man and child in their mystic folds. Hand in hand they turned 
 homeward. 
 
 "Padre, if God is my mind. He will do my thinking for me. 
 And all I have to do is to keep the door open and let His 
 thoughts come in." 
 
 Her sweet voice lingered on the still night air. There was 
 a pensive gladness in the man's heart as he tightly held her 
 little hand and led her to Rosendo's door. 
 
 CHAPTER 18 
 
 THE next morning Jose read to Rosendo portions of the 
 communication from WenceslaS. 
 "Chiquinquia," commented the latter. "I remember 
 that Padre Diego collected much money from our people for 
 Masses to be said at that shrine." 
 
 "But where is it, Rosendo?" asked Jose. 
 
 "You do not know the story?" queried Rosendo in surprise. 
 "Why, there is not a shrine in the whole of Colombia that 
 works so many cures as this one. Your grandfather, Don 
 Ignacio, knew the place. And it was from him that my — that 
 is, I learned the legend when I was only a boy. It is said that 
 a poor, sick young girl in the little Indian village of Chiquin- 
 quia, north of Bogota, stood praying in her shabby little cottage 
 before an old, tOrh picture of the blessed Virgin." He stopped 
 and crossed himself devoutly. Then he resumed: 
 
 "Bueno, while the girl prayed, the picture suddenly rose up 
 in the air; the torn places all closed; the faded colors came 
 again as fresh as ever; and the girl was cured of her affliction. 
 The people of the village immediately built a shrine, over which 
 they hung the picture; and ever since then the most wonderful 
 miracles have been performed by it there." 
 
 Jose laughed. "You don't believe that, do you, /Rosendo?" 
 he askied in banter. 
 
 "Hombre, yes!" exclaimed the latter a bit testily. "I know 
 
 149 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 it! Did not Don Felipe go there when the doctor in Mompox 
 told him the little white spot on his hand was leprosy? And 
 he came back cured." 
 
 Leprosy! Josd started as if he had received a blow. He 
 looked furtively at the scar on his own hand, the hand which 
 the leper in Maganguey had lacerated that dreadful night, and 
 which often burned and ached as if seared by a hot iron. He 
 had never dared to voice the carking fear that tightened about 
 "his heart at times. But often in the depths of night,, when 
 dread anticipation sat like a spectre upon his bed, he had 
 risen and gone out into the darkness to wrestle with his black 
 thoughts. Leprosy! All the gladness and joy left his heart, 
 and a pall of darkness settled over his thought. He turned 
 back into his cottage and tried to find forgetfulness in the 
 simple duties that lay at hand. 
 
 "Why is it," he asked himself, as he sat wearily down at his 
 little table, "that I always think of evil first; while Carmen's 
 first thought is invariably of God?" 
 
 He looked at the ugly scar on his hand. What thought was 
 externalized in the loathsome experience which produced that? 
 he wondered. Was it the summation of all the fear, the weak- 
 ness, the wrong belief, that had filled his previous years? And 
 now why was he finding it so difficult to practice what Carmen 
 lived, even though he knew it was truth? 
 
 "Alas!" he murmured aloud, "it was the seminary that did 
 it. For there my thought was educated away from the simple 
 teachings of Jesus. To Carmen there is no mystery in godli- 
 ness. Though she knows utterly nothing about Jesus, yet she 
 hourly uses the Christ-principle. It is the children who grasp 
 the simple truths of God; while the lack of spirituality which 
 results from increasing years shrinks maturer minds until 
 they no longer afford entrance to it. For godliness is broad; 
 and the mind that receives it must be opened wide." 
 
 As he sat with his bowed head clasped in his hands, a sweet, 
 airy voice greeted him. 
 
 "Why, Padre dear — ah, I caught you that time ! — ^you were 
 thinking that two and two are seven, weren't you?" She shook 
 a rebuking finger at him. 
 
 Framed in the doorway like an old masterpiece, the sun- 
 light bronzing her heavy brown curls, the olive-tinted skin of 
 her bare arms and legs flushing with health, and her cheap 
 calico gown held tightly about her, showing the contour of her 
 full and shapely figure, the girl appeared to Jose like a vision 
 from the realm of enchantment. And he knew that she did 
 dwell in the land of spiritual enchantment, where happiness 
 is not at the mercy of physical sense. 
 
 150 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth 
 the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love merey, 
 and to walk humbly with thy God?" 
 
 "The Lord our God is a right-thinking God, and right-think- 
 ing is what He desires in His people." 
 
 Jos^ thought of this as he looked at Carmen. This 
 barefoot girl, who walked humbly, trustingly, with her God, 
 had she not supplied him with a working formula for his every 
 problem, even to the casting out of the corroding fear planted 
 in his heart by that awful experience in Maganguey? Though 
 he had suffered much, yet much had been done for him. The 
 brusque logic of the explorer had swept his mind clear of its 
 last vestige of theological superstition, and prepared it for 
 the truth which, under the benign stimulus of this clear- 
 minded child, would remake his life, if he could now yield him- 
 self utterly to it. He must — he would — ceaselessly strive, even 
 though he fell daily, to make his life a pattern of hers, wherein 
 there was no knowledge of evil ! 
 
 The girl came to the priest and leaned fondly against him. 
 Then a little sigh escaped her lips, as she looked down into 
 his face with pitying affection. 
 
 "Padre dear," she said, in a tone that echoed a strain of 
 sadness, "I — I don't believe — ^you love God very much." 
 
 The man was startled, and resentment began to well in his 
 heart. "What a thing to say, Carmen!" he answered re- 
 provingly. 
 
 The girl looked up at him with great, wondering eyes. "But, 
 Padre," she protested, "were you not thinking of things that 
 are not true when I came in?" 
 
 "No — I was — I was thinking of the future — of — well, chi- 
 quita, I was thinking of something that might happen some 
 day, that is all." He stumbled through it with difficulty, for 
 he knew he must not lie to the child. Would she ever trust 
 him again if he did? 
 
 "And, Padre, were you afraid?" 
 
 "Afraid? Yes, chiquita, I was." He hung his head. 
 
 Carmen looked at him reproachfully. "Then, Padre, I was 
 right — for, if you loved God, you would trust Him — and then 
 you couldn't be afraid of anything — could you? People who 
 love Him are not afraid." 
 
 He turned his head away. "Ah, child," he murmured, 
 "you will find that out in the world people don't love God in 
 this day and generation. At least they don't love Him that 
 way." 
 
 "They don't love Him enough to trust him?" she asked 
 wistfully, 
 
 151 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "No." He shook his head sadly. "Nobody trusts Him, not 
 even the preachers themselves. When things happen, they 
 rush for a doctor, or some other human being to help them out 
 of their difficulty. They don't turn to Him any more. They 
 seldom speak His name." 
 
 "Have — ^they — forgotten Him?" she asked slowly, her voice 
 sinking to a whisper. 
 
 "Absolutely!" He again buried his head in his hands. 
 
 The child stood in silence for some moments. Then : 
 
 "What made them forget Him, Padre?" 
 
 "I guess, c/ifq^uifa, they turned from Him because He didn't 
 answer their prayers. I used to pray to Him, too. I prayed 
 hours at a time. But nothing seemed to come of it. And so I 
 stopped." He spoke bitterly. 
 
 "You prayed ! You mean — " 
 
 "I asked Him for things — to help me out of trouble — I asked 
 Him to give me — " 
 
 "Why, Padre! Why — that's the very reason!" 
 
 He looked up at her blankly. "What is the very reason? 
 What are you trying to tell me, child?" 
 
 "Why, He is everywhere, and He is right here all the time. 
 And so there couldn't be any real trouble for Him to help you 
 out of; and He couldn't give you anything, for He has already 
 done that, long ago. We are in Him, don't you know? Just like 
 the little fishes in the lake. And so when you asked Him for 
 things it showed that you didn't believe He had already given 
 them to you. And — ^you know what you said last night about 
 thinking, and that when we think things, we see them? Well, 
 He has given you everything; but you thought He hadn't, and 
 so you saw it that way — isn't it so?" 
 
 She paused for breath. She had talked rapidly and with 
 animation. But before he could reply she resumed: 
 
 "Padre dear, you know you told me that Jesus was the 
 best man that ever lived, and that it was because he never had 
 a bad thought — isn't that so?" 
 
 "Yes," he murmured. 
 
 "Well, did he pray— did he ask God for things?" 
 
 "Of course he did, child!" the priest exclaimed. "He al- 
 ways asked Him for things. Why, he was always praying--- 
 the New Testament is full of it!" 
 
 Acting on a sudden impulse, he rose and went into the 
 sleeping room to get his Bible. The child's face took on an 
 expression of disappointment as she heard his words. Her 
 brow knotted, and a troubled look came into her brown eyes. 
 
 Jose returned with hi? Bible and seated himself again at 
 the table. Opening the book, his eyes fell upon a verse of 
 
 152 
 
CARMEN ARIZA^ 
 
 Mark's Gospel. He stopped to read it; and then read it again. 
 Suddenly he looked up at the waiting girl, 
 
 "What is it, Padre? What does it say?" 
 
 He hesitated. He read the verse again; then he scanned the 
 child closely, as if he would read a mystery hidden within her 
 bodily presence. Abruptly he turned to the book and read 
 aloud : 
 
 " 'Therefore I say unto you, What things soever ye desire, 
 when ye pray, beReve that ye receive them, and ye shall have 
 them.' " 
 
 The girl drew a long breath, almost a sigh, as if a weight had 
 been removed from her mind. "Did Jesus say that?" she asked 
 in glad, eager tones. 
 
 "Yes — at least it is so reported here," he answered absently. 
 
 "Well— Tie knew, didn't he?" 
 
 "Knew what, child?" 
 
 "Why, Padre, he told the people to know — ^just know — - 
 that they already had everything — that God had given them 
 everything good — and that if they would know it, they would 
 see it." 
 
 Externalization of thought? Yes; or rather, the externaliza- 
 tion of truth. Jose fell into abstraction, his eyes glued to the 
 page. There it stood — the words almost shouted it at him! 
 And there it had stood, for nearly two thousand years, while 
 priest and prelate, scribe and commentator had gone over it 
 again and again through the ages, without even guessing its 
 true meaning — without even the remotest idea of the infinite 
 riches it held for mankind! 
 
 He turned reflectively to Matthew; and then to John. He 
 remembered the passages well — in the past he had spent hours 
 of mortal agony poring over them and wondering bitterly why 
 God had failed to keep the promises they contain. 
 
 "And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believ- 
 ing, ye shall receive." 
 
 All things — ^when ye ask believing t But that Greek word 
 surely held vastly more than the translators have drawn from 
 it. Nay, not believing only, but understanding the allness of 
 God as good, and the consequent nothingness of evil, all that 
 seems to. oppose Him! How could the translators have so 
 completely missed ihe mark ! And Carmen — had never seen a 
 Bible until he came into her life; yet she knew, knew instinc- 
 tively, that a good God who was "everywhere" could not possi- 
 bly withhold anything good from His children. It was the 
 simplest kind of logic. 
 
 But, thought Jose again, if the promises are kept, why have 
 we fallen so woefully short of their realization? Then he 
 
 20 153 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 read again, "If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye 
 shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you." The 
 promise carries a condition — abiding in his words — obeying 
 his commands^ — keeping the very first Commandment, which is 
 that "Ye shall have no other gods before me" — no gods of evil, 
 sickness, chance, or death. The promises are fulfilled only on 
 the condition of righteousness — right-thinking about God and 
 His infinite, spiritual manifestation. 
 
 He turned to. Carmen. "Chiquita," he said tenderlys "you 
 never ask God to give you things, do you?" 
 
 "Why, no, Padre; why should I? He gives me everything I 
 need, doesn't He?" 
 " "Yes — when you go out to the shales, you — " 
 
 "I don't ask Him for things, Padre dear. I just tell Him I 
 know He is everywhere." 
 
 "I see — ^yes, you told me that long ago — I understand, chi- 
 quita." His spirit bowed in humble reverence before such di- 
 vine faith. This untutored, unlearned girl, isolated upon these 
 burning shales, far, far from the haunts of men of pri4e and 
 power and worldly lore — this barefoot child whose coiff ers jheld 
 of material riches scarce more than the little calico dress upon 
 her back — this lowly being knew that which all the fabled 
 wealth of Ind could never buy ! Her prayers were not the selfish 
 pleadings that spring from narrow souls, the souls that "ask 
 amiss" — not the frenzied yearnings wrung from suffering, 
 ignorant hearts — nor were they the inflated instructions ad- 
 dressed to the Almighty by a smug, complacent clergy, the self- 
 constituted press-bureau of infinite Wisdom. Her prayers, 
 which so often drifted like sweetest incense about those steam- 
 ing shales, were not petitions, but affirmations. They did not 
 limit God. She did not plead with Him. She simply knew that 
 He had already met her needs. And that righteousness — right- 
 thinking- — became externalized in her consciousness in the good 
 she sought. Jesus did the same thing, over and over again; 
 but the poor, stupid minds of the people were so full of wrong 
 beliefs about his infinite Father that they could not understand, 
 no, not even when he called Lazarus from the tomb. 
 
 "Ask in my name," urged the patient Jesus. But the poor 
 fishermen thought he meant his human name to be a talisman, 
 a sort of "Open Sesame," when he was striving all the time, by 
 precept and deed, to show them that they must ask in his 
 character, must be like him, to whom, though of himself he 
 could do nothing, yet all things were possible. 
 
 Jose's heart began to echo the Master's words^ "Father, I 
 thank Thee that Thou hast hid these things from the wise andr 
 prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes." He put his arm 
 about Carmen and drew her to him. 
 
 154 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Little one," he murmured, "how much has happened in 
 these past few weeks!" ^ 
 
 Carmen looked up at him with an enigmatical glance and 
 laughed. "Well, Padre dear, I don't think anything ever really; 
 happens, do you?" 
 
 "Why not?" he asked. 
 
 "Mistakes happen, as in solving my algebra problems. But 
 good things never happen, any more than the answers to my 
 problems happen. You know, there are rules for getting the 
 answers; but there are no rules for making mistakes — are 
 there? But when anything comes out according to the rule, 
 it doesn't happen. And the mistakes, which have no rules, are 
 not real — the answers are real, but the mistakes are not — and 
 so nothing ever really happens. Don't you see, Padre dear?" 
 
 "Surely, I see," he acquiesced^ Then, while he held the 
 girl close to him, he reflected: Good is never fortuitous. It 
 results from the application of the Principle of all things. The 
 answer to a mathematical problem is a form of good, and it re^ 
 suits from the application of the principle of mathematics. 
 Mistakes, and the various, things which "happen" when we solve 
 mathematical problems, do not have rules, or principles. They 
 result from ignorance of them, or their misapplication. And 
 so in life ; for chance, fate, luck, accident and the merely casual, 
 come, not from the application of principles, but from not ap- 
 plying theqa, or from ignorance of their use. The human mind 
 or consciousness, which is a mental activity, an activity of 
 thought, is concerned with mixed thoughts of good and evil. 
 But it operates without any principle whatsoever. For, if God 
 is infinite good, then the beliefs of evil which the human mind 
 holds must be false beliefs, illusions, suppositions. A supposi- 
 tion has no principle, no rule. And so, it is only the unreal 
 that happens. And even that sort of "happening" can be pre- 
 vented by knowing and using the principle of all good, God. 
 A knowledge of evil is not knowledge at all. Evil has no rules. 
 Has an accident a principle? He laughed aloud at the idea. 
 
 "What is it. Padre?" asked Carmen. 
 
 "Nothing, child — and everything ! But we are neglecting 
 our work," he hastily added, as he roused himself. "What are 
 the lessons for to-day? Come! come! We have much to do!" 
 And arranging his papers, and bidding Carmen draw up to the 
 table, he began the morning session of his very select little 
 school. 
 
 »•♦»♦♦ 
 
 More than six months had elapsed since JoSe first set foot 
 upon the hot shales of Simiti. In that time his mentality had 
 been turned over like a fallow field beneath the plowshare. 
 
 155 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 After peace had been established in the country he had often 
 thought to consecrate himself to the task of collecting the 
 fragmentary ideas which had been evolved in his mind during 
 these past weeks of strange and almost weitd experience, and 
 trying to formulate them into definite statements of truth. Then 
 he would enter upon the task of establishing them by actual 
 demonstration, regardless of the years that might be required 
 to do so. He realized now that the explorer had done a great 
 work in clearing his mind of many of its darker shadows. But 
 it was to Carmen's purer, more spiritual influence that he knew 
 his debt was heaviest. 
 
 Let it not seem strange that mature manhood and extensive 
 travel had never before brought to this man's mind the truths; 
 many of which have been current almost since the curtain first 
 arose on the melodrama of mundane existence. Well nigh 
 impassable limitations had been set to them by his own natal 
 characteristics ; by his acutely morbid sense of filial love which 
 bound him, at whatever cost, to observe the bigoted, selfish 
 wishes of his parents ; and by the strictness with which his 
 mind had been hedged about both in the seminary and in the 
 ecclesiastical office where he subsequently labored. The first 
 rays of mental freedom did not dawn upon his darkened 
 thought until he was sent as an outcast to the New World. 
 Then, when his greater latitude in Cartagena, and his still 
 more expanded sense of freedom in Simiti, had Iqwered the 
 bars, there had rushed into his mentality such a flood of ideas 
 that he was all but swept away in the swirling current. 
 
 It is not strange that he rose and fell, to-day strong in the 
 conviction of the immanence of infinite good, to-morrow sunken 
 in mortal despair of ever demonstrating the truth of the ideas 
 which were swelling his shrunken mind. His line of progress 
 in truth was an undulating curve, slowly advancing toward the 
 distant goal to which Carmen seemed to move in a straight, 
 undeviating line. What though Emerson had said that Mind 
 was "the only reality of which men and all other natures are 
 better or worse reflectors"? Josd was unaware of the sage's 
 mighty deduction. What though Plato had said that we move 
 as shadows in a world of ideas? Even if Jos6 had known of it, 
 it had meant nothing to him. What though the Transcenden- 
 talists called the universe "a metaphore of the human mind"? 
 Jose's thought was too firmly clutched by his self-centered, 
 material beliefs to grasp it. Doubt of the reality of things ma- 
 terial succumbed to the evidence of the physical senses and 
 the ridicule of his seminary preceptors. True, he believed with 
 Paul, that the "things that are seen are temporal; the things 
 that are unseen are eternal." But this pregnant utterance con- 
 
 156 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 veyed nothing more to him than a belief of a material heaven to 
 follow his exit from a world of matter. It had never occurred 
 to him that the world of matter might be the product of those 
 same delusive physical senses, through which he believed he 
 gained his knowledge of it. It is true that while in the semi- 
 nary, and before, he had insisted upon a more spiritual inter- 
 pretation of the mission of Jesus — had insisted that Christian 
 priests should obey the Master's injunction, and heal the sick 
 as well as preach the gospel. But with the advent of the trou- 
 bles which filled the intervening years, these things had grad- 
 ually faded; and the mounting sun that dawned upon him 
 six months before, as he lay on the damp floor of his little cell 
 in the ecclesiastical dormitory in Cartagena, awaiting the Bish- 
 op's summons, illumined only a shell, in which agnosticism 
 sat enthroned upon a stool of black despair. 
 
 Then Carmen entered his life. And her beautiful love, 
 which enfolded him like a garment, and her sublime faith, 
 which moved before him like the Bethlehem star to where the 
 Christ-principle lay, were, little by little, dissolving the mist 
 and revealing the majesty of the great God. 
 
 In assuming to teach the child, Jos6 early found that the 
 outer world meant nothing to her until he had purged it of its 
 carnal elements. Often in days past, when he had launched 
 out upon the dramatic recital of some important historical 
 event, wherein crime and bloodshed had shaped the incident, 
 the girl would start hastily from her chair and put her little 
 hand over his mouth. 
 
 "Don't, Padre dear! It is not true!" she would exclaim. 
 "God didn't do it, and it isn't so!" 
 
 And thereby he learned to differentiate more closely between 
 those historical events which sprang from good motives, and 
 those which manifested only human passion^ selfish ambition, 
 and the primitive question, "Who shall be greatest?" More- 
 over, he had found it best in his frequent talks to the people 
 in the church during the week to omit all reference to the evil 
 methods of mankind in their dealings one with another, and to 
 pass over in silence the criminal aims and low motives, and 
 their externalization, which have marked the unfolding of the 
 human mind, and which the world preserves in its annals as 
 historical fact. The child seemed to divine the great truth that 
 history is but the record of human conduct, conduct manifesting 
 the mortal mind of man, a mind utterly opposed to the mind 
 that is God, and therefore unreal, supposititious, and bearing 
 the "minus" sign. Carmen would have none of it that did not 
 reflect good. She refused utterly to turn her mental gaze to- 
 ward recorded evil. 
 
 157 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "Padre,'* she once protested, "when I want to see the sun 
 rise, I don't look toward the west. And if you want to see the 
 good come up, why do you look at these stories of bad men 
 and their bad thoughts?" 
 
 Jose admitted that they were records of the mortal mind— 
 and the mind that is mortal is no mind. 
 
 "I am learning," he frequently said to himself, after Carmen 
 had left at the close of their day's work. "But my real educa- 
 tion did not commence until I began to see, even though faintly, 
 that the Creator is mind and infinite good, and that there is 
 nothing real to the belief in evil; that the five physical senses 
 give us no testimony of any nature whatsoever; and that real 
 man never could, never did, fall." 
 
 Thus the days glided swiftly past, and Jose completed his 
 first year amid the drowsy influences of this little town, slum- 
 bering peacefully in its sequestered nook at the feet of the 
 green Cordilleras. No further event ruffled its archaic civiliza- 
 tion; and only with rare frequency did fugitive bits of news 
 steal in from the outer world, which, to the untraveled thought 
 of this primitive folk, renjained always a realm vague and 
 mysterious. Quietly the people followed the routine of their 
 colorless existence. Each morn broke softly over the limpid 
 lake; each evening left the blush of its roseate sunset on the 
 glassy waters; each night wound its velvety arms gently about 
 the nodding town, while the stars beamed like jewels through 
 the clear, soft atmosphere above, or the yellow moonbeams 
 stole noiselessly down the old, sunken trail to dream on the 
 lake's invisible waves. 
 
 Each month, with unvarying regularity, Rosendo came and 
 went. At times Jose thought he detected traces of weariness. 
 Insidious and persistently lurking, in the old man's demeanor. 
 At times his limbs trembled, and his step seemed heavy. Once 
 Jos6 had found him, seated back of his cottage, rubbing the 
 knotted muscles of his legs, and groaning aloud. But when he 
 became aware of Jose presence, the groans ceased, and thie old 
 man sprang to his feet with a look of such grim determination 
 written across his face that the priest smothered his appre- 
 hensions and forbore to speak. Rosendo was immolating 
 himself upon his love for the child. Jos6 knew it; but he would 
 hot, if he could, prevent the sacrifice. 
 
 Each month their contributions were sent to Cartagena; and 
 as regularly came a message from Wenceslas, admonishing 
 them to greater efforts. With the money that was sent to the 
 Bishop went also a smaller packet to the two women who were 
 caring for the unfortunate Maria's little babe. The sources of 
 Josh's remittances to Cartagena were never questioned by Wen- 
 
 158 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 ceslas. But Simiti slowly awakened to the mysterious monthly 
 trips of Rosendo; and Don Mario's suspicion became convic- 
 tion. He bribed men to follow Rosendo secretly. They came 
 back, footsore and angry. Rosendo had thrown them com- 
 pletely off the scent. Then Don Mario outfitted and sent his 
 paid emissary after the old man. He wasted two full months in 
 vain search along the Guamoco trail. But the fever came upon 
 him, and he refused to continue the hunt. The Alcalde counted 
 the cost, then loudly cursed himself and Rosendo for the many 
 good pesos so ruthlessly squandered. Then he began to ply 
 Jose and Rosendo with skillfully framed questions. He worried 
 the citizens of the village with his suggestions. Finally he be- 
 thought himself to apprise the Bishop of his suspicions. But 
 second consideration disclosed that plan as likely to yield him 
 .nothing but loss. He knew Rosendo was getting gold from 
 sonae source. But, too, he was driving a good trade with the 
 old 'man on supplies. He settled back upon his fat haunches 
 at last, determined to keep his own counsel and let well-enough 
 alone for the present, while he awaited events. 
 
 Rosendo's vivid interest in Carmen's progress was almost 
 pathetic. When in Simiti he hung over the child in rapt ab- 
 sorption as she worked out her problems, or recited her les- 
 sons to Jose. Often he shook his head in witness of his utter 
 lack of comprehension. But Carmen understood, and that 
 suflSced. His admiration for the priest's learning was deep and 
 reverential. He was a silent worshiper, this great-hearted 
 man, at the shrine of intellect; but, alas! he himself knew only 
 the rudiments, which he had acquired by years of patient, 
 struggling effort, through long days and nights filled with toil. 
 His particular passion was his Castilian mother-tongue; and the 
 precision with which he at times used it, his careful selection 
 of words, and his wide vocabulary, occasioned Jos6 no little 
 astonishment. One day, after returning from the hills, he ap- 
 proached Jose as the latter was hearing Carmen's lessons, and, 
 with considerable embarrassment, offered him a bit of paper 
 on which were written in his ample hand several verses. Jos6 
 read them, and then looked up wonderingly at the old man. 
 
 "Why, Rosendo, these are beautiful! Where did you get 
 them?" 
 
 "I^-they are mine. Padre," replied Rosendo, his face glow- 
 ing with pleasure. 
 
 "Yours! Do you mean that you wrote them?" Jose queried 
 in astonishment. 
 
 "Yes, Padre. Nights, up in Guamoc6, when I had finished 
 my work, and when I was so lonely, I would sometimes light 
 my candle and try to write out the thoughts that came to me." 
 
 159 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Jos6 could not keep back the tears. He turned his head, 
 that Rosendo might not see them. Of the three little poems, 
 two were indited to the Virgin Mary, and one to Carmen. He 
 lingered over one of the verses of the latter, for it awoke 
 responsive echoes in his own soul: 
 
 "Without you, the world— a desert of sadness; 
 
 But with you, sweet child^-a vale of delight ; 
 You laugh, like the sunbeam-^my gloom becomes gladness; 
 You sing — from my heart flee the shadows of night." ■ 
 
 "I — I have written a good deal of poetry during my life, 
 Padre. I will show you some of it, if you wish," Rosendo ad- 
 vanced, encouraged by Jose's approbation. 
 
 "Decidedly, I would!" returned Jose with animation. "And 
 to think, without instruction, without training! What a les- 
 son!" 
 
 "Yes, Padre, when I think of the blessed Virgin or the little 
 Carmen, my thoughts seem to come in poetry." He stooped 
 over the girl and kissed her. The child reached up and clasped 
 her arms about his black neck. 
 
 "Padre Rosendo," she said sweetly, "you are a poem, a big 
 one, a beautiful one." 
 
 "Aye," seconded Josd, and there was a hitch in his voice, 
 "you are an epic — and the world is the poorer that it cannot 
 read you!" 
 
 But, though showing such laudable curiosity regarding the 
 elements which entered into their simple life in Simiti, Rosendo 
 seldom spoke of matters pertaining to religion. Yet Jose knew 
 that the old faith held him, and that he would never, on this 
 plane of existence, break away from it. He clung to his escap- 
 ulario; he prostrated himself before the statue of the Virgin; 
 he invoked the aid of Virgin and Saints when in distress; and, 
 unlike most of the male inhabitants of the town, he scrupu- 
 lously prayed his rosary every liight, whether at home, or on 
 the lonely margins of the Tigui. He had once said to Josd that 
 he was glad Padre Diego had baptised the little Carmen— he 
 felt safer to have it so. ' And yet he would not have her brought 
 up in the Holy Catholic faith. Let her choose or formulate her 
 own religious beliefs, they should not be influenced by him or 
 others. 
 
 "You can never make me believe, Padre," he would some- 
 times say to the priest, "that the little Carmen was not left by 
 the angels on the river bank." 
 
 "But, Rosendo, how foolish!" remonstrated Josd. "You 
 have Escolastico's account, and the boat captain's." 
 
 "Well, and what then? Even the blessed Saviour was born 
 
 160 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 of a woman; and yet he came from heaven. The angels brought 
 him, guarded him as he lay in the manger, protected him all his 
 life, and then took him back to heaven again. And I tell you, 
 Padre, the angels brought Carmen, and they are always with 
 her!" 
 
 Jose ceased to dispute the old man's contentions. For, had 
 he been pressed, he would have been forced to admit that there 
 was in the child's pure presence a haunting spell of mystery — 
 perhaps the mystery of godliness — but yet an undefinable 
 something that always made him approach her with a feeling 
 akin to awe. 
 
 And in the calm, untroubled seclusion of Simiti, in its me- 
 diaeval atmosphere of romance, and amid its ceaseless dreams 
 of a stirring past, the child unfolded a nature that bore the 
 stamp of divinity, a nature that communed incessantly with her 
 God, and that read His name in every trivial incident, in every 
 stone and flower, in the sunbeams, the stars, and the whisper- 
 ing breeze. In that ancient town, crumbling into the final stages 
 of decrepitude, she dwelt in heaven. To her, the rude adobe 
 huts were marble castles; the shabby rawhide chairs and hard 
 wooden beds were softest down; the coarse food was richer 
 than a king's spiced viands ; and over it all she cast a mantle of 
 love that was rich enough, great enough, to transform with the 
 grace of fresh and heavenly beauty the ruins and squalor of 
 her earthly environment. 
 
 "Can a child like Carmen live a sinless life, and still be 
 human?" Jose often mused, as he watched her flitting through 
 the sunlit hours. "It is recorded that Jesus did. Ah, yes; but 
 he was born of a virgin, spotless herself. And Carmen? Is 
 she any less a child of God?" Jose often wondered, wondered 
 deeply, as he gazed at her absorbed in her tasks. And yet — 
 how was she born? Might he not, in the absence of definite 
 knowledge, accept Rosendo's belief — accept it because of its 
 beautiful, haunting mystery — that she, too, was miraculously 
 born of a virgin, and "left by the angels on the river bank"? 
 For, as far as he might judge, her life was sinless. It was true, 
 she did at rare intervals display little outbursts of childish 
 temper; she sometimes forgot and spoke sharply to her few 
 playmates, and even to Dona Maria; and he had seen her -cry 
 for sheer vexation. And yet, these were but tiny shadows 
 that were cast at rarest intervals, melting quickly when they 
 came into the glorious sunlight of her radiant nature. 
 
 But the mystery shrouding the child's parentage, however 
 he might regard it, often roused within his mind thoughts dai-k 
 and apprehensive. Only one communitation had come from 
 Padre Diego, and that some four months after liis precipitous 
 
 161 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 flight. He had gained the Guamoc6 trail, it said, and finally 
 arrived at Remedies. He purposed returning to Banco ulti- 
 mately; and, until then, must leave the little Carmen in the 
 care of those in whom he had immovable confidence, and to 
 ■whom he would some day try, however feebly, to repay in an 
 appropriate manner his infinite debt of gratitude. 
 
 "Caramba!" muttered Rosendo, on reading the note. "Does 
 the villain think we are fools?" 
 
 But none the less could the old man quiet the fear that 
 haunted him, nor still the apprehension that some day Diego 
 would make capital of his claim. What that claim might ac- 
 complish if laid before Wenceslas, he shuddered to think. And 
 so he kept the girl at his side when in Simiti, and bound Jose 
 and the faithful Juan to redoubled vigilance when he was again 
 obliged to return to the mountains. 
 
 Time passed. The care-free children of this tropic realm 
 drowsed through the long, hot days and gossiped and danced 
 in the soft airs of night. Rosendo held his unremitting, lonely 
 vigil of toil in the ghastly solitudes of Guamocd. Jose, exiled 
 and outcast, clung desperately to the child's hand, and strove 
 to rise into the spiritual consciousness in which she dwelt. 
 And thus the year fell softly into the yawning arms of the 
 past and became a memory. 
 
 Then one day Simiti awoke from its lethargy in terror, with 
 the spectre of pestilence stalking through her narrow streets. 
 
 CHAPTER 19 
 
 FELIZ GOMEZ, who had been sent to Bodega Central for 
 merchandise which Don Mario was awaiting from the 
 coast, had collapsed as he stepped from his boat on his 
 return to Simiti. When he regained consciousness he called 
 wildly for the priest. 
 
 "Padre!" he cried, when Jose arrived, "it is la plagat Ah, 
 Sahtisima Virgen — I am dying !-^dying!" He writhed in 
 agony on the ground. 
 
 The priest bent over him, his heart throbbing with appre- 
 hension. 
 
 "Padre — " The lad strove to raise his head. "The inn- 
 keeper at Bodega Central — he told me I might sleep in an empty 
 house back of the inn. Diosmio! There was an old cot there — 
 I slept on it two nights— Coram &a/ Padre, they told me then — 
 Ah, Bendita Virgen! Don't let me die, Padre! Carisima Vir- 
 gen, don't let me diel Ah, Dios — /" 
 
 162 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 His body twisted in convulsions. Jose lifted him and 
 dragged him to the nearby shed where the lad had been living 
 alone. A terror-stricken concourse gathered quickly about the 
 doorway and peered in wide-eyed horror through the narrow 
 window. . . 
 
 "Feliz, what did they tell you?" cried Jos6, laying the 
 sufferer upon the bed and chafing his cold hands. The boy 
 rallied. 
 
 "They told me — a Turk, bound for Zaragoza on the Nechi 
 river — had taken the wrong boat — in Maganguey. He had 
 been sick — terribly sick there. Ah, Dios! It is coming again. 
 Padre — the pain! Carambal Dios miol Save me, Padre, save 
 me!" 
 
 "Jacinta! Rosa! I must have help!" cried Jos6, turning 
 to the stunned people. "Bring cloths — hot water — and send for 
 Don Mario. Dona Lucia, prepare an olla of your herb tea at 
 once!" 
 
 "Padre" — the boy had become quieter — "when the Turk 
 learned that he was on the wrong boat — he asked to be put off 
 at the next town — ^which was Bodega Central. The inn-keeper 
 put him in the empty house — and he—^Dios! he died — on that 
 bed where I slept!" 
 
 "Well?" said Jose. 
 
 "Padre, he died — the day before I arrived there — and — 
 ah, Santisima Virgen! they said — he died — of — of — la colera!" 
 
 "Cholera!" cried the priest, starting up. At the mention of 
 the disease a loud murmur arose from the people, and they 
 fell back from the shed. 
 
 "Padre ! — ah, Dios, how I suffer ! Give me the sacrament — 
 I cannot live—! Padre-^let me confess — now. Ah, Padre, 
 shall I go — to heaven? Tell me — !" 
 
 Jose's "blood froze. He stood with eyes riveted in horror 
 upon the tormented lad. 
 
 "Padre" — the boy's voice grew weaker — "I fell sick that day 
 — I started for Simiti — I died a thousand times in the cano — 
 ah, carambal But, Padre — promise to get me out of purgatory 
 — I have no money for Masses. Caramba! I cannot stand it! 
 Oh, Dios! Padre — quick — I have not been very wicked — but 
 I stole — Dios, how I suffer! — I stole two pesos from the inn- 
 keeper at Bodega Central — he thought he lost them — but I took 
 them out of the drawer — Padre, pay him for me — then I will 
 not go to hell! Dios!" 
 
 Rosendo at that moment entered the house. 
 
 "Don't come in here !" cried Jose, turning upon him in wild 
 apprehension. "Keep away, for God's sake, keep away!" 
 
 In sullen silence Rosendo disregarded the priest's frenzied 
 
 163 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 appeal. His eyes widened when he saw the boy torn with con- 
 vulsions, but he did not flinch. Only when he saw Carmen ap- 
 proaching, attracted by the great crowd, he hastily bade one 
 of the women turn her back home. 
 
 Hour after hour the poor sufferer tossed and writhed. 
 Again and again he lapsed iiito unconsciousness, from which he 
 would emerge to piteously beg the priest to save him. "Ah I 
 Dios, Padre I" he pleaded, extending his trembling arms to 
 Jose, "can you do nothing? Can you not help me? Santisima 
 Virgen, how I suffer!" 
 
 Then, when the evening shadows were gathering, the final 
 convulsions seized him and wrenched his poor soul loose. Jose 
 and Rosendo were alone with him when the end came. The 
 people had early fled from the stricken lad, and were gathering 
 in little groups before their homes and on the corners, dis- 
 cussing in low, strained tones the advent of the scourge. Those 
 who had been close to the sick boy were now cold with fear. 
 Women wept, and children clung whimpering to their skirts. 
 The men talked excitedly in hoarse whispers, or lapsed into a 
 state of terrified dullness. 
 
 Jose went from the death-bed to the Alcalde. Don Mario 
 saw him coming, and fled into the house, securing the door 
 after him. "Go away. Padre!" he shouted through the shutters. 
 "For the love of the Virgin do not come here! Caramba!" 
 
 "But, Don Mario, the lad is dead!" cried Jose in despera- 
 tion. "And what shall we do? We must face the situation. 
 Come, you are the Alcalde. Let us talk about — " 
 
 "Caramba! Do what you want to ! I shall get out ! N ombre 
 de Dios! If I live through the night I shall go to the mountains 
 to-morrow!" 
 
 "But we must have a coffin to bury the lad ! You must let 
 us have one!" * 
 
 "No! You cannot enter here. Padre!" shrilled Don Mario, 
 jumping up and down in his excitements "Bury him in a 
 blanket— anything — but keep away from my house!" 
 
 Jose turned sadly away and passed through the deserted 
 streets back to the lonely shed. Rosendo met hini at the door. 
 "Bien, Padre," he said quietly, "we are exiled." 
 "Have you been home yet?" asked Jose. 
 "H ombre, no! I cannot go home now. I might carry the 
 disease to the senora and the little Carmen. I must stay here. 
 And," he added, "you too. Padre." 
 
 Jose's heart turned to lead. "But, the boy?" he exclaimed, 
 pointing toward the bed. 
 
 "When it is dark. Padre," replied Rosendo, "we will take 
 him out through the back door and bury him beyond the 
 shales. Hombre! I must see no\y if I can find a shovel." 
 
 164 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 Jose sank down upon the threshold, a prey to corroding de- 
 spair, while Rosendo went out in search of the implement. The 
 streets were dead, and few lights shone from the latticed win- 
 dows. The pall of fear had settled thick upon the stricken 
 town. Those who were standing before their houses as Ro- 
 sendo approached hastily turned in and closed their doors. 
 Jose, in the presence of death in a terrible form, sat mute. In 
 an hour Rosendo returned. 
 
 "No shovel. Padre," he announced. "But I crept up back 
 of my house and got this bar which I had left standing there 
 when I came back from the mountains. I can scrape up the 
 loose earth with my hands. Come now." 
 
 Jose wearily rose. He was but a tool in the hands of a man 
 to whom physical danger was but a matter of temperament. 
 He absently helped Rosendo wrap the black, distorted corpse in 
 the frayed blanket; and then together they passed out into the 
 night with their grewsome burden. 
 
 "Why not to the cemetery, Rosendo?" asked Jose, as the 
 old man took an opposite course. 
 
 "Hombre, no!" cried Rosendo. "The cemetery is on shale, 
 and I could not dig through it in time. We must get the body 
 under ground at once. Caramba! If we put it in one of the 
 bovedas in the cemetery the buzzards will eat it and scatter 
 the plague all over the town. The bovedas are broken, and have 
 no longer any doors, you remember." 
 
 So beyond the shales they went, stumbling through the dark- 
 ness, their minds freighted with a burden of apprehension 
 more terrible than the thing they bore in their arms. The 
 shales crossed, Rosendo left the trail, cutting a way through 
 the bush with his machete a distance of several hundred feet. 
 Then, by the weird yellow light of a single candle, he opened 
 the moist earth and laid the hideous, twisted thing within. Jose 
 watched the procedure in dull apathy. 
 
 "And now. Padre," said Rosendo, at length breaking the 
 awful silence, "where will you sleep to-night? I cannot let 
 you go back to your house. It is too near the seiiora and Car- 
 men. No man in town will let you stay in his house, since you 
 have handled the plague. Will you sleep in thS shed where the 
 lad died? Or out on the shales with me? I called to the 
 seiiora when I went after the bar, and she will lay two blankets 
 out in the plaza for us. And in the morning she will put food 
 where we can get it. What say you?" 
 
 Jose stood dazed. His mind had congealed with the horror 
 of the situation. Rosendo took him by the arm. "Come, Padre," 
 he said gently. "The hill up back of the second church is 
 high, and no one lives near. I will get the blankets and we 
 will pass the night out there." 
 
 165 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "But, Rosendo!" Jos6 found his voice. "What is it? Is it— 
 la colera?" 
 
 "Quien sabe? Padre," returned Rosendo. "There has been 
 plague here — these people, some of them, still remember it — 
 but it was long ago. There have been cases along the river — 
 and brought, I doubt not, by Turks, like this one." 
 
 "And do you think that it is now all along the river? That 
 Bodega Central is being ravaged by the scourge? That it will 
 sweep through the country?" 
 
 "Quien sabe? Padre. All I do know is that the people of 
 Simiti are terribly frightened, and the pestilence may wipe 
 away the town before it leaves." 
 
 "But — good God! what can we do, Rosendo?" 
 
 "Nothing, Padre — but stay and meet it," the man replied 
 quietly. 
 
 They reached the hill in silence. Then Rosendo wrapped 
 himself in one of the blankets which he had picked up as he 
 passed through the plaza, and lay down upon the shale. 
 
 But Jose slept not that night. The warm, sluggish air lay 
 about him, mephitic in its touch. The great vampire bats that 
 soughed through it symbolized the "pestilence that walketh in 
 darkness." Lonely calls drifted across the warm lake waters 
 from the dripping jungle like the hollow echoes of lost souls. 
 Rosendo tossed fitfully, and now and then uttered deep groans. 
 The atmosphere was prescient with horror. He struggled to 
 his feet and paced gloomily back and forth along the brow of 
 the hill. The second church stood near, deserted, gloomy, no 
 longer a temple of God, but a charnel house of fear and black 
 superstition. In the distance the ghostly white walls of the 
 Rincon church glowed faintly in the feeble light that dripped 
 from the yellow stars. There was now no thought of God — no 
 thought of divine aid. Jose was riding again the mountainous 
 billows of fear and unbelief; nor did he look for the Master to 
 come to him through the thick night across the heaving waters. 
 
 The tardy dawn brought Dona Maria io the foot of the hill, 
 where she deposited food, and held distant converse with 
 the exiles. Don Mario had just departed, taking the direction 
 across the lake toward San Lucas. He had compelled his wife 
 to remain in Simiti to watch over the little store, while he fled 
 with two boatmen and abundant supplies. Others likewise 
 were preparing to flee, some to the Boque river, some up the 
 Guamoco trail. Doiia Maria was keeping Carmen closely, nor 
 would she permit her to as much as venture from the house. 
 "Why should not the seiiora take Carmen and go to Boque, 
 Rosendo?" asked Jose. "Then you and I could occupy our 
 own houses until we knew what the future had in store for us." 
 
 166 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Rosendo agreed at once. Carmen would be safe in the pro- 
 tecting care of Don Nicolas. Dona Maria yielded only after 
 much persuasion. From the hilltop Jos6 could descry the 
 Alcalde's boat slowly wending its way across the lake toward 
 the Juncal. Rosendo, having finished his morning meal, pre- 
 pared to meet the day. 
 
 "Bien, Padre," he said, "when the sun gets high we cannot 
 stay here. We must seek shade — but where?" He looked about 
 dubiously. 
 
 "Why not in the old church, Rosendo?" 
 
 "Caramba, never!" cried Rosendo. "Hombre! that old church 
 is haunted!" 
 
 Jose could never understand the nature of this man, so 
 brave in the face of physical danger, yet so permeated with 
 superstitious dread of those imaginary inhabitants of the in- 
 visible realm, 
 
 "Padre," suggested Rosendo at length. "We will go down 
 there, nearer the lake, to the old shack where the blacksmith 
 had his forge. He died two years ago, and the place has since 
 been empty." 
 
 "Go then, Rosendo, and I will follow later," assented Josd, 
 who now craved solitude for the struggle for self-mastery 
 which he saw impending. 
 
 While Rosendo moved off toward the deserted shack, the 
 priest continued his restless pacing along the crest of the hill. 
 The morning was glorious — but for the blighting thoughts of 
 men. The vivid green of the dewy hills shone like new-laid 
 color. The lake lay like a diamond set in emeralds. The dead 
 town glowed brilliantly white in the mounting sun. Jose knew 
 that the heat would soon drive him from the hill. He glanced 
 questioningly at the old church. He walked toward it; then 
 mounted the broken steps. The hinges, rusted and broken, had 
 let the heavy door, now bored through and through by comje- 
 jen ants, slip to one side. Through the opening thus afforded, 
 Jose could peer into the cavernous blackness within. The sun 
 shot its terrific heat at him, and the stone steps burned his 
 sandaled feet. He pushed against the door. It yielded. Then 
 through the opening he entered the dusty, ill-smelling old 
 edifice. 
 
 When his eyes had become accustomed to the dimness with- 
 in, he saw that the interior was like that of the other church, 
 only in a more dilapidated state. There were but few benches; 
 and the brick altar, poorer in construction, had crumbled 
 away at one side. Dust, mold, and cobwebs covered every- 
 thing; but the air was gratefully cool. Jose brushed the 
 
 167 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 thick dust from one of the benches. Then he lay down upon 
 it, and was soon sunk in heavy sleep. 
 
 »»♦»♦» 
 
 The sun had just crossed the meridian. Jose awoke, con- 
 scious that he was not alone. The weird legend that hung 
 about the old church filtered slowly through his dazed brain. 
 Rosendo had said that an ?ingel of some kind dwelt in the 
 place. And surely a presence sat on the bench in the twilight 
 before him ! He roused up, rubbed his sleepy eyes, and peered 
 at it. A soft laugh echoed, through the stillness. 
 
 "I looked all around for the bad angel that padre Rosendo 
 said lived here, and I didn't find anything but you." 
 
 "Carmen, child! What are you doing here? Don't come 
 near me!" cried Jose, drawing away. 
 
 "Why, Padre — what is it? Why must I keep away from 
 you? First, madre Maria tells me I must go to Boque with 
 her. And now you will not let me come near you. And I love 
 you so — " Tears choked her voice, and she sat looking in 
 mute appeal at the priest. 
 
 Jose's wit seemed hopelessly scattered. He passed his hand 
 dully across his brow as if to brush the mist from his befogged 
 brain. 
 
 "Padre dear." The pathetic little voice wrung his heart. 
 "Padre dear, when madre Maria told me I had to go to Boque, 
 I went to your house to ask you, and — and you weren't there. 
 And I couldn't find padre Rosendo either — and there wasn't 
 anybody in the streets at all — and I came up here. Then I 
 saw the blanket out on the hill, and I kept hunting for you— 
 I wanted to see you so much. And when I saw the door of 
 the church broken, I thought you might be in here — and so I 
 came in — and, oh, Padre dear, I was so glad to find you — ^but 
 I wouldn't wake you up — and while you were sleeping I just 
 knew that God was taking care of you all the time — " 
 
 Jose 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. 
 
 168 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 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 her- 
 self 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." 
 
 "Nothing, child — nothing ! Did — er — did your madre Maria 
 say why you must go to Boque?" he asked hesitatingly. 
 
 "She said Feliz Gomez died last night of the plague, and 
 that the people were afraid they would all get sick and die 
 too. And she said — Padre dear, she said you were afraid I 
 would get sick, and so you told her to take me away. You 
 didn't mean that, did you? She didn't understand you, did 
 she? You are not aifraid, are you? You can't be, you know, 
 can you? You and I are not afraid of anything. We know — 
 don't we. Padre dear?" 
 
 "What do we know, child?" he asked sadly. 
 
 "Why — why, we know that God is everywhere!" She 
 looked at him wonderingly. What could she understand of a 
 nature so wavering?- — ^firm when the sun shone bright above — 
 tottering when the blasts of adversity whirled about it? He 
 had said such beautiful things to her, such wonderful things 
 about God and His children only yesterday. And now — why 
 this awful change? Why again this sudden lowering of 
 standards ? 
 
 He had sunk deep into his dark thoughts. "Death is in- 
 evitable!" he muttered grimly, forgetful of the child's presence. 
 
 "Oh, Padre dear!" she pleaded, passing her little hand 
 tenderly over his cheek. Then her face brightened. "I know 
 what it is!" she exclaimed. "You are just trying to think that 
 two and two are seven — and you can't prove it — and so you'd 
 better stop trying!" She broke into a little forced laugh. 
 
 Jose sat wrapped in black silence. 
 
 "Padre dear." Her voice was full of plaintive tenderness. 
 "You have talked so much about that good man Jesus. What 
 would he say if he saw you trying to make two and two equal 
 seven? And if he had been here last night — would he have 
 let Feliz die?" 
 
 The priest made no answer. None was required when 
 Carmen put her questions. 
 
 169 
 
 21 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "Padre dear," she continued softly. "Why didn't you cure 
 Feliz?" 
 
 His soul withered under the shock. 
 
 "You have told me, often, that Jesus cured sick people. 
 And you said he even made the dead ones live again — didn't 
 you. Padre dear?" 
 
 "Yes," he murmured; "they say he did." 
 
 "And you read to me once from your Bible where he told 
 the people that he gave them power over everything. And you 
 said he was the great rule — ^you called him the Christ-principle 
 — and you said he never went away from us. Well, Padre 
 dear," she concluded with quick emphasis, "why don't you 
 use him now?" 
 
 She waited a moment. Then, when no reply came — 
 
 "Feliz didn't die. Padre." 
 
 "Hombre! It's all the same — he's gone!" he cried in a tone 
 of sullen bitterness. 
 
 "You think he is gone. Padre dear. And Feliz thought he 
 had to go. And so now you both see it that way — that's all. 
 If you would see things the way that good man Jesus told you 
 to — ^well, wouldn't they be difFerent^wouldn't they. Padre 
 dear?" 
 
 "No doubt they would, child, no doubt. But — " 
 
 She waited a moment for him to express the limitation 
 which the conjunctive implied. Then: 
 
 "Padre dear, how do you think he did it? How did he cure 
 sick people, and make the dead ones live again?" 
 
 "I — I don't know, child — I am not sure. That knowledge 
 has been lost, long since." 
 
 "You do know. Padre," she insisted; "you do! Did he 
 know that God was everywhere?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And what did he say sickness was?" 
 
 "He classed it with all evil under the one heading — a lie — 
 a lie about God." 
 
 "But when a person tells a lie, he doesn't speak the truth, 
 does he?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "And a lie has no rule, no principle?" 
 
 "No.'' 
 
 "And so it isn't anything- — doesn't come from anything true 
 — hasn't any real life, has it?" 
 
 "No, a lie is utterly unreal, not founded on anything but 
 supposition, either ignorant or malicious." 
 
 "Then Jesus said sickness was a supposition, didn't he?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 170 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "And God, who made- everything real, didn't inalte supposi- 
 tions. He made only real things." 
 
 "True, child." 
 
 "Well, Padre dear, if you know all that, why don't you act 
 as if you did?" 
 
 Act? Yes, act your knowledge! Acknowledge Him in all 
 your ways! Then He shall bring it to pass! What? That 
 which is real — life, not death — immortality, not oblivion — love, 
 not hate — good, not evil! 
 
 "Chiquita — " His voice was thick. "You — you believe all 
 that, don't you?" 
 
 "No, Padre dear" — she smiled up at him through the dark- 
 ness — "I don't believe it, I know it." 
 
 "But — how — how do you know it?" 
 
 "God tells me. Padre. I hear Him, always. And I prove 
 it every day. The trouble is, you believe it, but I don't think 
 you ever try to prove it. If you believed my problems in 
 algebra could be solved, but never tried to prove it — well, you 
 wouldn't do very much in algebra, would you?" She laughed 
 at the apt comparison. 
 
 Jose's straining eyes were peering straight ahead. Through 
 the thick gloom he saw the mutilated figure of the Christ hang- 
 ing on its cross beside the crumbling altar. It reflected the 
 broken image of the Christ-principle in the hearts of men. 
 And was he not again crucifying the gentle Christ?' Did not 
 the world daily crucify him and nail him with their false be- 
 liefs to the cross of carnal error which they set up in the 
 Golgotha of their own souls? And were they not daily paying 
 the awful penalty therefor? Aye, paying it in agony, in tortur- 
 ing agony of soul and body, in blasted hopes, crumbling ambi- 
 tions, and inevitable death! 
 
 "Padre dear, what did the good man say sickness came 
 from?" Carmen's soft voice brought him back from his reflec- 
 tions. 
 
 "Sickness? Why, he always coupled disease with sin." 
 
 "And sin?" 
 
 "Sin is — is unrighteousness." 
 
 "And that is — ?" she pursued relentlessly. 
 
 "Wrong conduct, based on wrong thinking. And wrong 
 thinking is based on wrong beliefs, false thought." 
 
 "But to believe that there is anything but God, and the 
 things He made, is sin, isn't it. Padre dear?" 
 
 "Sin is — ^yes, to believe in other powers than God is to 
 break the very first Commandment — and that is the chief of 
 sins!" 
 
 "Well, Padre dear, can't you make yourself think right? 
 Do you know what you really think about God, anyway?" 
 
 171 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 3os6 rose and paced up and down through the dark aisle. 
 
 "I try to think," he answered, "that He is mind; that He is 
 infinite, everywhere; that He is all-powerful; that He knows all 
 things; and that He is perfect and good. I try not to think 
 that He made evil, or anything that is or could be bad, or that 
 could become sick, or decay, or die. Whatever He made must 
 be real, and real things last forever, are immortal, eternal. I 
 strive to think He did make man in His image and likeness — 
 and that man has never been anything else — that man never 
 'fell.' " 
 
 "What is that. Padre?" 
 
 "Only an old, outworn theological belief. But, to resume: 
 I believe that, since God is mind, man must be an idea of His. 
 Since God is infinite, man must exist in Him. I know that any 
 number of lies can be made up about true things. And any 
 number of falsities can be assumed about God and what He 
 has made. I am sure that the material universe and man are 
 a part of the lie about God and the way He manifests and 
 expresses Himself in and through His ideas. Everything is 
 mental. We must hold to that! The mental realm includes 
 all truth, all fact. But there may be all sorts of supposition 
 about this fact. And yet, while fact is based upon absolute 
 and undeviating principle — and I believe that principle to be 
 God — supposition is utterly without any rule or principle what- 
 soever. It is wholly subject to truth, to Principle, to God. 
 Hence, bad or wrong thought is absolutely subject to good or 
 real thought, and must go down before it. The mortal man is 
 a product of wrong thought. He is a supposition; and so is 
 the universe of matter in which he is supposed to live. We 
 have already learned that the things he thinks he hears, feels, 
 tastes, smells, and sees are only his own thoughts. And these 
 turn out to be suppositions. Hence, they are nothing real." 
 
 "Well, Padre! How fast you talk! And — such big words! 
 I — I don't think I understand all you say. But, anyway, I 
 guess it is right." She laughed again. 
 
 "I know it is right!" he exclaimed, forgetting that he was 
 talking to a child. "Evil, which includes sickness and death, 
 is only a false idea of good. It is a misinterpretation, made in 
 the thought-activity which constitutes what we call the human 
 consciousness. And that is the opposite — the suppositional 
 opposite — of the mind that is God. Evil, then, becomes a sup- 
 position — and a lie. Just what Jesus said it was!" 
 
 "But, Padre— I don't see why you don't act as if you really 
 believed all that!" 
 
 "Fear — only, fear ! It has not yet been eradicated from my 
 thought," he answered slowly^ 
 
 •172 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "But, Padre, what -will drive it out?" 
 
 "Love, child — love only, for 'perfect love casteth out fear.' " 
 
 "Oh, then, Padre dear, I will just love it all out of you, 
 every bit!" she exclaimed, clasping her arms about him again 
 and burying her face in his shoulder. 
 
 "Ah, little one," he said sadly, "I must love more. I must 
 love my fellow-men and good more than myself and evil. If 
 I didn't love myself so much, I would have no fear. If I loved 
 God as you do, dearest child, I would never come under fear's 
 heavy shadow." 
 
 "You do love everybody — ^you have got to, for you are God's 
 child. And now," she added, getting down and drawing him 
 toward the door, "let us go out of this smelly old church. I 
 want you to come home. We've got to have our lessons, you 
 know." 
 
 "But — child, the people will not let me come near them — 
 nor you either, now," he said, holding back. "They think we 
 may give them the disease." 
 
 She looked up at him with a tender, wistful smile. Then 
 she shook her head. "Padre dear, I love you," she said, "but 
 you make me lots of trouble. But — we are going to love all 
 the fear away, and — " stamping her little bare foot — "we are 
 going to get the right answer to your problem, too!" 
 
 The priest took her hand, and together they passed out 
 into the dazzling sunlight. 
 
 On the brow of the hill stood Rosendo, talking excitedly, 
 and with much vehement gesticulation, to Dona Maria, who 
 remained a safe distance from him. The latter and her good 
 consort exclaimed in horror when they saw Carmen with the 
 priest. 
 
 "Carambal" cried Rosendo, darting toward them. "I could 
 kill you for this. Padre! H ombre! How came the child here, 
 and with you? Dios mio! Have you no heart, but that, when 
 you know you may die, you would take her with you?" He 
 swung his long arms menacingly before the priest, and his 
 face worked with passion. 
 
 The girl ran between the two men. "Padre Rosendo!" she 
 cried, seizing one of his hands in both of her own. "I came of 
 myself. He did not call me. I found him asleep. And he isn't 
 going to die — nor I, either!" 
 
 Dona Maria approached and quietly joined the little group. 
 
 "Carambal Go back!" cried the distressed Rosendo, turn- 
 ing upon her. "Hombre! Dios y diablol will you all die?" 
 He stamped the ground and tore his hair in his impotent pro- 
 test. 
 
 "Na, Rosendo," said the woman placidly, "if you are in 
 
 173 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 danger, I will be too. If you must die, so will I. I will not be 
 left alone." . 
 
 A thrill of admiration swept over the priest. Then he 
 smiled wanly, "Bien," he said, "we have all been exposed to 
 the plague now, and we will stand together. Shall we return 
 home?" 
 
 Rosendq's anger soon evaporated, but his face retained 
 traces of deep anxiety. "Maria tells me. Padre," he said, "that 
 Amado Sanchez fell sick last night with the flux, and nobody 
 will stay with him, excepting his woman." 
 
 "Let us go to him, then," replied the priest. "Dofia Maria, 
 do you and Carmen return to your house, whilst Rosendo and 
 I seek to be of service to those who may need us." 
 
 Together they started down the main street of the town. 
 Dead silence reigned everywhere. Many of the inhabitants had 
 fled to the hills. But there were still many whose circum- 
 stances would not permit of flight. As they neared Rosendo's 
 house the little party were hailed from a distance by Juan 
 Mendoza. and Pedro Cardenas, neighbors living on either side 
 of Rosendo and the priest. 
 
 "Hola, Padre and Don Rosendo!" they called; "you cannot 
 return to your homes, for you would expose us to the plague! 
 Go back ! Go back ! We will burn the houses over your heads 
 if you return!" 
 
 "But, amigos — " Jose began. 
 
 "Na, Padre," they cried in tense excitement, "it is for the 
 best! Go back to the hill! We will supply you with food and 
 blankets— but you must not come here! Amado Sanchez is 
 sick; Guillermo Hernandez is sick. Go back] You must not 
 expose us!" The attitude of the frightened, desperate men 
 was threatenmg. Josp saw that it would be unwise to resist 
 them. 
 
 "Bien, compadres, we will go," he said, his heart breaking 
 with sorrow for these children of fear. Then, assembling his 
 little family, he turned and retraced his steps sadly through 
 the street that burned in lonely silence in the torrid heat 
 
 Carmen's eyes were big with wonder; but a happy idea soon 
 drove all apprehension from her thought. "Padre'" she ex- 
 
 fiplTn ' 'S^ "^Z" """I 'u ^^^ °'f *^^"''^^' ^"<i w« wi" play house 
 there! She clapped her hands in merriment. 
 
 Tf ^S''r-""'!u''^'^,^°'^"^°- "^ ^"1 not enter that place! 
 It would bring the plague upon me! Na! na!" he insisted 
 when they reached the steps, "do you go in if you w sh bS 
 I will stay outside in the shadow of the building/" N^woSd 
 the combined entreaties of Carmen and Jose induce hh^ o 
 wfth him. ^"^ '^'"'^ ^"'^ '"^°"y prepared to. remain 
 
 174 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Pull off the old door. Padre!" cried Carmen excitedly. 
 "And open all the shutters. Look! Look, Padre! There goes 
 the bad angel that padre Rosendo was a:fraid of!" A number 
 of bats, startled at the noise and the sudden influx of light, 
 were scurrying out through the open door. 
 
 "Like the legion of demons which Jesus sent into the 
 swine," said Jose. "I will tell you the story some day, chi- 
 quita," he said, in answer to her look of inquiry. 
 
 The day passed quickly for the child, nor did she seem to 
 cast another thought in the direction of the. cloud which hung 
 over the sorrowing town. At dusk, Mendoza and Cardenas 
 came to the foot of the hill with food and blankets. 
 
 "Amado Sanchez has just died," they reported. 
 
 "What!" cried Jose. "So soon? Why— he fell sick only 
 yesterday!" 
 
 "No, Padre, he had been ailing for many days — ^but it may 
 have been the plague just the same. Perhaps it was with us 
 before Feliz brought it. But we have not exposed ourselves 
 to the disease and — Padre — there is not a man in Simiti who 
 will bury Amado. What shall we do?" 
 
 Jose divined the man's thought. "Bien, amigo," he replied. 
 "Go you back to your homes. To-night Rosendo and I will 
 come and bury him." 
 
 Jose had sent Carmen and Dofia Maria beyond the church, 
 that they might not hear the grewsome tidings. When the 
 men had returned to their honies, the little band on the hill- 
 top ate their evening meal in silence. Then a bench was swept 
 clean for Carmen's bed, for she insisted on sleeping in the 
 old church with Jose when she learned that he intended to pass 
 the night there. 
 
 Again, as the heavy shadows were gathering, Jose and Ro- 
 sendo descended into the town and bore out the body of Amado 
 Sanchez to a resting place beside the poor lad who had died the 
 day before. To a man of such delicate sensibilities as Jose, 
 whose nerves were raw from continual friction with a world 
 with which he was ever at variance, this task was one of 
 almost unendurable horror. He returned to the old church 
 in a state bordering on collapse. 
 
 "Rosendo," he murmured, as they seated themselves on the 
 hillside in the still night, "I think we shall all die of the 
 plague. And it were well so. I am tired, utterly tired of striv- 
 ing to live against such odds. Bien, let it come!" 
 
 "Courage, compadrel" urged Rosendo, putting his great 
 arm about the priest's shoulders^ "We must all go some time, 
 and perhaps now; but while we live let us live like men!" 
 
 "You do not fear death?" 
 
 175 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "No — what is it that the old history of mine says? 'Death 
 is not, departingi but arriving.' I am not afraid. But the little 
 Carmen — I wish that she might live. She — ah, Padre, she could 
 do much good in the. world. Bien, we are all in the hands of 
 the One who brought us here — and He will take us in the way 
 and at the time that He appoints — is it not so. Padre?" 
 
 Jose lapsed again into meditation. No, he could not say 
 that it was so. The thoughts which he had expressed to Car- 
 men that morning still flitted through his mind. The child was 
 right— Rosendo's philosophy was that of resignation born of 
 ignorance. It was the despair of doubt. And he did not really 
 think that Carmen would be smitten of the plague. Something 
 seemed to tell him that it was impossible. But, on the other 
 hand, he would himself observe every precaution in regard to 
 her. No, he would not sleep in the church that night. He 
 had handled the body of the plague's second victim, and he 
 could not rest near the child. Perhaps exposure to the night 
 air and the heavy dews would serve to cleanse him. And so 
 he wrapped himself in the blanket which Doiia Maria brought 
 from within the church, and lay down beside the faithful pair. 
 
 In the long hours of that lonely night Jose lay beneath the 
 shimmering stars pondering, wondering. Down below in the 
 smitten town the poor children of his flock were eating their 
 hearts out in anxious dread and bitter sorrow. Was it through 
 any fault of theirs that this thing had come upon ihem, like a 
 bolt from a cloudless sky? No — except that they were human, 
 mortal. And if the thing were real, it came from the mind 
 that is God; if unreal — ^but it seemed real to these simple folk, 
 terribly so! 
 
 His heart yearned toward them as his thought penetrated 
 the still reaches of the night and hovered about their lonely 
 vigil. Yet, what had he to offer? What balm could he extend 
 to those wearing out weary hours on beds of agony below? 
 Religion? True religion, if they could But understand it; but 
 not again the empty husks of the faith that had been taught 
 them in the name of Christ! Where did scholastic theology 
 stand in such an hour as this? Did it offer easement from their 
 torture of mind and body? No. Strength to bear in patience 
 their heavy burden? No. Hope? Not of this life— nay, 
 naught but the thread-worn, undemonstrable promise of a 
 life to come, if, indeed, they might happily avoid the pangs of 
 purgatory and the horrors of the quenchless flames of hell! 
 God, what had not the Church to answer for ! 
 
 And yet, these ignorant children were but succumbing to 
 the evidence of their material senses — though small good it 
 would do to tell them so! Could they but know — as did Car- 
 
 176 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 men — that rejection of error and reception of truth meant 
 life — ah, could they but know ! Could he himself but know — 
 really know — that God is neither the producer of evil, nor the 
 powerless witness of its ravages — could he but understand and 
 prove that evil is not a self-existing entity, warring eternally 
 with God, what might he not accomplish ! For Jesus had said : 
 "These signs" — the cure of disease, the rout of death — "shall 
 follow them that believe," that understand, that know. Why 
 could he not go down to those beds of torture and say with the 
 Christ: "Arise, for God hath made thee whole"? He knew 
 why — "without faith it is impossible to please Him: for he 
 that cometh of God must believe" — must know — "that He is a 
 rewarder of them that diligently seek Him." The suffering 
 victims in the town below were asleep in a state of religious 
 dullness. The task of independent thinking was onerous to 
 such as they. Gladly did they leave it to the Church to do 
 their thinking for them. And thus did they suffer for the trust 
 betrayed ! 
 
 But truth is omnipotent, and "one with God is a majority." 
 Jesus gave few rules, but none more fundamental than that 
 "with God all things are possible." Was he, Jos6, walking 
 with God? If so, he might arise and go down into the stricken 
 town and bid its frightened children be whole. If he fully 
 recognized "the Father" as all-powerful, all-good, and if he 
 could clearly see and retain his grasp on the truth that evil, 
 the supposititious opposite of good, had neither place nor 
 power, except in the minds of mortals receptive to it — ah, then 
 — then — 
 
 A soft patter of little feet on the shales broke in upon his 
 thought. He turned and beheld Carmen coming through the 
 night. 
 
 "Padre dear," she whispered, "why didn't you come and 
 sleep in the church with me?" She crept close to him. He 
 had not the heart nor the courage to send her away. He put 
 out his arm and drew her to him. 
 
 "Padre dear," the child murmured, "it is nice out here 
 under the stars — and I want to be with you — I love you — love 
 you — " The whisper died away, and the child slept on his 
 arm. 
 
 "Perfect love casteth out fear." 
 
 177 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 20 
 
 DAWN brought Juan Mendoza and Pedro Cardenas again to 
 the hill, and with them came others. "Mateo Gil, Pablo 
 Polo, and Juanita Gomez are sick, Padre," announced 
 Mendoza, the spokesman. "They ask for the last sacrament. 
 You could come down and give it to them, and then return to 
 the hill, is it not so?" 
 
 "Yes," assented Jose, "I will come." 
 
 "And, Padre," continued Mendoza, "we talked it over last 
 night, after Amado Sanchez died, and we think it would help 
 if you said a Mass for us in the church to-day." 
 
 "I will do so this afternoon, after I have visited the sick," 
 he replied pityingly. 
 
 Mendoza hesitated. Then— 
 
 "We think, too, Padre, that if we held a procession — in 
 honor of Santa Barbara — perhaps she would pray for us, and 
 might stop the sickness. We could march through the town 
 this evening, while you stood here and prayed as we passed 
 around the hill. What say you. Padre?" 
 
 Jose was about to express a vehement protest. But the 
 anxious faces directed toward him melted his heart. 
 
 "Yes, children," he replied gently, "do as you wish. Keep 
 your houses this afternoon while I visit the sick and offer the 
 Mass. I will leave the hostia on the altar. You need not fear 
 to touch it. Carry it with you in your rogation to Santa Bar- 
 bara this evening, and I will stand here and pray for you." 
 
 The people departed, sorrowing, but grateful. Hope revived 
 in the breasts of some. But most of them awaited in trembling 
 the icy touch of the plague. 
 
 "Padre," said Rosendo, when the people had gone. "I have 
 been thinking about the sickness, and I remember what my 
 father told me he learned from a Jesuit missionary. It was 
 that the fat from a human body would cure rheumatism. And 
 then the missionary laughed and said that the fat from a 
 plump woman would cure all diseases of mind and body. If 
 that is so. Padre, and Juanita Gomez dies — she is very plump, 
 Padre — could we not take some of the fat from her body and 
 rub it on the sick — " 
 
 "God above, Rosendo! what are you saying!" cried Jos6 
 recoiling in horror. 
 
 "Caramba!" retorted the honest man. "Would you not try 
 everything that might possibly save these people? What the 
 missionary said may be true." 
 
 178 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "No, my faithful ally," replied Jose. "You did not get the 
 sense in which he said it. Neither human fat nor medicine of 
 any kind will help these people. Nothing will be accomplished 
 for them until their fear has been removed. For, I — well, the 
 symptoms manifested by poor Feliz may have been those of 
 Asiatic cholera. But — I begin to doubt. And as for Sanchez 
 — Bien, we do not know — not for certain." He stopped and 
 pondered the question. • 
 
 "Padre," pursued Rosendo, "I have used the liver of a 
 lizard for toothache, and it was very good." 
 
 "I have no doubt of it, Rosendo," replied Jose, with a smile. 
 "And in days past stranger remedies than that were used by 
 supposedly wise people. When the eyesight was poor, they 
 rubbed wax from the human ear upon the eyes, and I doubt 
 not marvelous. restorations of sight were made. So also dogs' 
 teeth were ground into powder and taken to alleviate certain 
 bodily pains. Almost everything that could be swallowed has 
 been taken by mankind to cure their aches and torments. But 
 they still ache to-day; and will continue to do so, I believe, 
 until their present state of mind greatly changes." 
 
 When the simple midday meal of corn arepa and black 
 coffee was finished, Jose descended into the quiet town. "It is 
 absurd that we should be kept on the hill," he had said to 
 Rosendo, "but these dull, simple minds believe that, having 
 handled those dead of the plague, we have become agents of 
 infection. They forget that they themselves are living either in 
 the same house with it, or closely adjacent. But it humors 
 them, poor children, and we will stay here for their sakes." 
 
 "Caramba! and they have made us their sextons!" muttered 
 Rosendo. 
 
 ' Jose shuddered. The clammy hand of fear again reached 
 for his heart. He turned to Carmen, who was busily occupied 
 in the shade 6f the old church. 
 
 "Your lessons, chiquita?" he queried, going to her for a 
 moment's abstraction. 
 
 "No, Padre dear," she replied, smiling up at him, while 
 she quickly concealed the bit of paper on which she had been 
 writing. 
 
 "Then what are you doing, little one?" he insisted. 
 
 "Padre dear — don't^ — don't always make me tell you every- 
 thing," she pleaded, but only half in earnest, as she cast an 
 enigmatical glance at him. 
 
 "But this time I insist on knowing; so you might as well 
 tell me." 
 
 "Well then, if you must know," she replied, her face beam- 
 ing with a happiness which seemed to Jose strangely out of 
 
 179 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 place in that tense atmosphere, "I have been writing a ques- 
 tion to God." She held out the paper. 
 
 "Writing a question to God ! Well— ! " 
 
 "Why, yes, Padre dear. I have done that for a long, long 
 time. When I want to know what to do, and think I don't see 
 just what is best, I write my question to God on a piece of 
 paper. Then I read it to Him, and tell Him I know He knows 
 the answer and that He will tell me. • And then I put the paper 
 under a stone some place, and — ^well, that's all. Padre. Isn't 
 it a good way?" She beamed at him like a glorious noonday 
 sun. 
 
 The priest stood before her in wonder and admiration. 
 "And does He tell you the answers to your questions, chi- 
 quita?" he asked tenderly. 
 
 "Always, Padre dear. Not always right away — ^but He never 
 fails — never!" 
 
 "Will you tell me what you are asking Him now?" he said. 
 
 She handed him the paper. His eyes dimmed as he read : 
 
 "Dear, dear Father, please tell your little girl and her dear Padre Jose 
 what it is that makes the people think they have to die down in the town." 
 
 "And where will you put the paper, little girl?" he asked, 
 striving to control his voice. 
 
 "Why, I don't know. Padre. Oh, why not put it under the 
 altar in this old church?" she exclaimed, pleased with the 
 thought of such a novel hiding place. 
 
 "Excellent!" assented Jose; and together they entered the 
 building. After much stumbling over rubbish, much soiling of 
 hands and disturbing of bats and lizards, while Carmen's happy 
 laugh rang merrily through the gloomy old pile, they laid the 
 paper carefully away behind the altar in a little pocket, and 
 covered it with an adobe brick. 
 
 "There!" panted the girl, the task finished. "Now we will 
 wait for the answer." 
 
 Jose went down into the ominous silence of the town with 
 a lighter heart. The sublime faith of the child moved before 
 him like a beacon. To the sick he spoke words of comfort, 
 with the vision of Carmen always before him. At the altar in 
 the empty church, where he offered the Mass in fulfillment of 
 his promise to the people, her fair form glowed with heavenly 
 radiance from the pedestal where before had stood the dilapi- 
 dated image of the Virgin. He prepared the sacred wafer and 
 left a part of it on the altar for the people to carry in their 
 procession to Santa Barbara. The other portion he took to the 
 sick ones who had asked for the sacrament. 
 
 Two more had fallen ill that afternoon. Mateo Gil, he 
 
 180 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 thought, could not live the night through. He linelt at the 
 loathsome bedside of the suffering man and prayed long and 
 earnestly for light. He tried not to ask, but to know. While 
 there, he heard a call from the street, announcing the passing 
 of Guillermo Hernandez. Another one ! His heart sank again. 
 The plague was upon them in all its cruel virulence. 
 
 Sadly he t-eturned to the hill, just as the sun tipped the 
 highest peaks of the Cordilleras. Standing on the crest, he 
 waited with heavy heart, while the mournful little procession 
 wended its sad way through the streets below. An old, bat- 
 tered wooden image of one of the Saints, rescued from the 
 oblivion' of the sacristia, had been dressed to represent Santa 
 Barbara. This, bedecked with bits of bright colored ribbon, 
 was carried at the head of the procession by the faithful Juan. 
 Following him, Pedro Gonzales, old and tottering, bore a din- 
 ner plate, on which rested the hostia; while over the wafer a 
 tall young lad held a soiled umbrella, for there was no canopy. 
 
 A slow chant rose from the lips of the people like a dirge. 
 It struck the heart of the priest like a chill wind. "Ora pro 
 nobis! Ora pro nobis!" Tears streamed from his eyes while 
 he gazed upon his stricken people. Slowly, wearily, they 
 wound around the base of the hill, some sullen with despair, 
 others with eyes turned beseechingly upward to where the 
 priest of God stood with outstretched hands, his full heart 
 pouring forth a passionate appeal to Him to turn His light 
 upon these simple-minded children. When they had gone back 
 down the road, their bare feet raising a cloud of thick dust 
 which hid them from his view, Jose sank down upon the rock 
 and buried his face in his hands. 
 
 "I know — I think I know, oh, God," he murmured; "but 
 as yet I have not proved — not yet. But grant that I may soon 
 — for their sakes." 
 
 Rosendo touched his shoulder. "There is another body to 
 bury to-night. Padre. Eat now, and we will go down." 
 ♦ •»■»♦♦♦ 
 
 Standing over the new grave, in the solemn hush of night, 
 the priest murmured: "I am the resurrection and the life." 
 But the mound upon which Rosendo was stolidly heaping the 
 loose earth marked only another victory of the mortal law of 
 death over a human sense of life. And there was no one there 
 to call- forth the sleeping man. 
 
 "Behold, I give you power over all things," said the mar- 
 velous Jesus. The wondrous, irresistible power which he ex- 
 erted in behalf of suffering humanity, he left with the world 
 when he went away. But where is it now? 
 
 "Still here," sighed the sorrowing priest, "still here — ^lo, 
 
 181 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 always here — ^but we know it not. Sunken in materiality, and 
 enslaved to the false testimony of the physical senses, we lack 
 the spirituality that alone would enable us to grasp and use 
 that Christ-power, which is the resurrection and the life." 
 
 "Padre," said Rosendo, when they turned back toward the 
 hill, "Hernandez is now with the angels. You gave him the 
 sacrament, did you not?" 
 
 "Yes, Rosendo." 
 
 "Bien, then you remitted his sins, and he is doubtless in 
 paradise. But," he mused, "it may be that he had first to pass 
 through purgatory. Carambal I like not the thought of those 
 hot fires!" 
 
 "Rosendo!" exclaimed Jos6 in impatience. "Your mental 
 wanderings at times are puerile! You talk like the veriest 
 child! Do not be deceived, Hernandez is still the same man, 
 even though he has left his earthly body behind. Do not think 
 he has been lifted at once into eternal bliss. The Church has 
 taught such rubbish for ages, and has based its pernicious 
 teachings upon the grossly misunderstood words of Jesus. The 
 Church is a failure — a dead, dead failure, in every sense of the 
 word ! And that man lying there in his grave is a ghastly proof 
 of it!" 
 
 Rosendo looked wonderingly at the excited priest, whose 
 bitter words rang out so harshly on the still night air. 
 
 "The Church has failed utterly to preserve the simple 
 gospel of the Christ ! It has basely, wantonly betrayed its tra- 
 ditional trust! It has fought and slain and burned for centu- 
 ries over trivial, vulnerable non-essentials, and thrown its 
 greatest pearls to the swine! It no longer prophesies; it carps 
 and reviles! It no longer heals the sick; but it conducts a 
 purgatorial lottery at so much a head ! It has become a jumble 
 of idle words, a mumbling of silly formulae, a category of 
 stupid, insensate ceremonies ! Its children are taught to derive 
 their faith from such legends as that of the holy Saint Francis, 
 who, to convince a heretic, showed the hostia to an ass, which 
 on beholding the sacred dough immediately kneeled! Good 
 God!" 
 
 "Ca-ram-ba! But you speak hard words. Padre!" muttered 
 Rosendo, vague speculations flitting through his brain as to the 
 priest's mental state. 
 
 "God!" continued Jose heatedly, "the Church has fought 
 truth desperately ever since the Master's day! It has fawned 
 at the feet of emperor and plutocrat, and licked the bloody 
 hand of the usurer who tossed her a pittance of his foul gains ! 
 In the great world-battles for reform, for the rights of man, 
 for freedom from the slavery of man to man or to drink and 
 
 182 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 drugs, she has come up only as the smoke has cleared away, 
 but always in time to demand the spoils ! She has filched from 
 the systems of philosophy of every land and age, and after be- 
 daubing them with her own gaudy colors, has foisted them 
 upon unthinking mankind as divine decrees and mandates! 
 She has foully insulted God and man! — " 
 
 "Caramba, Padre! You are not well! Hombre, we must 
 get back to the hill! You are falling sick!" 
 
 "I am not, Rosendo! You voice the Church's stock com- 
 plaint of every man who exposes her shams: 'He hath a 
 devil!"' 
 
 Rosendo whistled softly. Jose went on more excitedly: 
 
 "You ask if Hernandez is in paradise or purgatory. He 
 is in a state no better nor worse than our own, for both are 
 wholly mental. We are now in the fires of as great a purgatory 
 as any man can ever experience! Yes, there is a purgatory — 
 right here on earth— and it follows us after death, and after 
 every death that we shall die, until we learn to know God and 
 see Him as infinite good, without taint or trace of evil! The 
 flames of hell are eternal to us as long as we eat of 'the tree 
 of the knowledge of good and -evil' — as long as we believe in 
 other powers than God — as long as we believe sin and disease 
 and evil to be as real and as potent as good! When we know 
 these things as awful human illusions, and when we recognize 
 God as the infinite mind that did not create evil, and does not 
 know or behold it, then, and then only, will the flames of 
 purgatory and hell in this state of consciousness which we 
 mistakenly call, life, and in the states of consciousness still to 
 come, begin to diminish in intensity, and finally die out!" 
 
 He walked along in silence for some moments. Then he 
 turned to Rosendo and put his hand affectionately upon the 
 old man's shoulder. "My good friend," he said more calmly,' 
 "I speak with intense feeling, for I have suffered much through 
 the intolerance, the unspirituality, and the worldly ambition 
 of the agents of Holy Church. I suffer, because I see what 
 she is, and how widely she has missed the mark. But, worse, 
 I see how blindly, how cruelly, she leads and betrays her trust- 
 ing children — and it is the thought of that which at times 
 almost drives me mad ! But never mind me, Rosendo. Let me 
 rave. My full heart must empty itself. Do you but look to 
 Carmen for your faith. She is not of the Church. She knows 
 God, and she will lead you straight to Him. And as you follow 
 her, your foolish ideas of purgatory, hell, and paradise, of 
 wafers and virgins^all the tawdry beliefs which the Church 
 has laid upon you, will drop off, one by one, and melt away as 
 do the mists on the lake when the sun mounts high." 
 
 183 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Carmen and Dona Maria sat against the wall of the old 
 church, -waiting for them. The child ran through the darkness 
 and grasped Jose's hand. 
 
 "I wouldn't go to sleep until you came. Padre!" she cried 
 happily. "I wanted to be sure you wouldn't sleep anywhere 
 else than right next to me." 
 
 "Padre," admonished Rosendo anxiously, "do you think 
 you ought to let her come close to you now? The plague — " 
 
 Jose turned to him and spoke low. "There is no power 
 or influence that we can exert upon her, Rosendo, either for 
 good or evil. She is obeying a spiritual law of which we know 
 but little." 
 
 "And that. Padre?" 
 
 "Just this, Rosendo: 'Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace 
 whose mind is stayed on thee.' " 
 
 The late moon peeped timidly above the drowsing tree- 
 tops. Its yellow beams stole silently across the still lake and 
 up the hillside to the crumbling churcfi. When they reached 
 the four quiet figures, huddled close against the ghostly wall, 
 they filtered like streams of liquid gold through the brown 
 curls of the little head lying ^n the priest's shoulder. And 
 there they dwelt as symbols of Love's protecting care over the 
 trusting children of this world, until the full dawn of the 
 glorious sun of Truth. 
 
 CHAPTER 21 
 
 JOSE rose from his hard bed stiff and weary. Depression 
 sat heavily upon his soul, and he felt miserably unable to 
 meet the day. Dona Maria was preparing the coffee over 
 a little fire back of the church. The odor of the steaming 
 liqvild drifted to him on the warm morning air and gave him 
 a feeling of nausea. A sharp pain shot through his body. His 
 heart stopped. Was the plague's cold hand settling upon him? 
 Giddiness seized him, and he sat down again upon the rocks. 
 
 In the road below a cloud of dust was rising, and across 
 the distance a murmur of voices floated up to his ears. Men 
 were approaching. He wondered dully what additional trouble 
 it portended. Rosendo came to him at that moment. 
 
 "May buenos dias, Padre. I saw a boat come across the 
 lake some minutes ago. I wonder if Don Mario has returned." 
 
 The men below were ascending the hill. Jose struggled to 
 his feet and went forth to meet them. , A familiar voice greeted 
 him cheerily. 
 
 184 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Hola, Senor Padre Josdl Dios mw, but your hill is steep!" 
 
 Jos6 strained his eyes at the newcomer. The man quickly 
 gained the summit, and hurried to grasp the bewildered priest's 
 hand. 
 
 "Love of the Virgin! don't you know me, Seiior Padre?" 
 he cried, slapping Jose roundly upon the back. 
 
 The light of recognition slowly came into the priest's eyes. 
 The man was Don Jorge, his erstwhile traveling conipanion on 
 the Magdalena river, 
 
 "And now a cup of that coffee, if you will do me the favor, 
 my good Cura. And then tell me what ails you here," he 
 added, seating himself. "Caramba, what a town! Diego was 
 right — the devil himself made this place! But they say you 
 have all taken to dying! Have you nothing else to do? 
 Caramba, I do not wonder! Such a God-forsaken spot! Well, 
 what is it? Speak, man!" 
 
 Jose collected his scattered thoughts. "The cholera!" he 
 said hoarsely. 
 
 "Cholera! Caramba! so they told me down below, and I 
 ■would not believe them! But where did it come from?" 
 
 "One of our men brought it from Bodega, Central." 
 
 "Bodega Central!" ejaculated Don Jorge. "Impossible! I 
 came from there this morning myself. Have been there two 
 days. There isn't a trace of cholera in the place, as far as I 
 know! You have all gone crazy — but small wonder!" looking 
 out over the decrepit town. i 
 
 The priest's head was awhirl. He felt his senses leaving 
 him. His ears were reporting things basely false. "You say — " 
 he began in bewilderment. 
 
 "I say what I have said, amigol There is no more cholera 
 in Bodega Central than there is in heaven! I arrived there 
 day before yesterday, and left before sunrise this morning. So 
 I should know." 
 
 Jose sank weakly down at the man's side. "But — ^Don 
 Jorge— Feliz Gomez returned from there three nights ago, and 
 reported that a Turk, who had come up from the coast, had 
 died of the plague!" 
 
 Don Jorge's brows knit in perplexity. "I recall now," he 
 said slowly, after some moments of study. "The inn-keeper 
 did say that a Turk had died there — some sort of intestinal 
 trouble, I believe. When I told him I was bound for Simiti, he 
 laughed as if he would split, and then began to talk about the 
 great fright he had given a man from here. Said he scared 
 the fellow until his black face turned white. But I was occu- 
 pied with my own affairs, and paid him little attention. But 
 come, tell me all about it." 
 
 185 
 22 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 With the truth slowly dawning upon his clouded thought, 
 Jose related the grewsome experiences of the past three days. 
 
 "Ca-ram-ba!" Don Jorge whistled softly. "Who would 
 have thought it! But, was Feliz Gomez sick before he went to 
 Bodega Central?" 
 
 "I do not know," replied Josd. 
 
 "Yes, senor," interposed Rosendo. "He and Amado San- 
 chez both had bowel trouble. Their women told my wife so, 
 after you and I, Padre, had come up here to the hill. But it 
 was nothing. We have it here often, as you know." 
 
 "True," assented Jos6, "but we have never given it any 
 serious thought." 
 
 Don Jorge leaned back and broke into a roar of laughter. 
 "Por el amor del cielo! You are all crazy, amigo — ^you die 
 like rats of fear! Did you ever put a mouse into a bottle and 
 then scare it to death with a loud noise? Hombre! That is 
 what has happened to you!" The hill reverberated with his 
 loud shouts. 
 
 But Jose could not share in the merriment. The awful con- 
 sequences of the inn-keeper's coarse joke upon the childish 
 minds of these poor, impressionable people pressed heavily 
 upon his heart. Bitter tears welled to his eyes. He sprang to 
 his feel. 
 
 "Come, Rosendo!" he cried. "We must go down and tell 
 these people the truth!" 
 
 Don Jorge joined them, and they all hastened down into 
 the town. Ramona Chaves met them in the plaza, her eyes 
 streaming. 
 
 "Padre," she wailed, "my man Pedro has the sickness ! He 
 is dying!" 
 
 "Nothing of the kind, Ramona!" loudly cried Jos6; "there 
 is no cholera here !" He hastened to the bedside of the writhing 
 Pedro. 
 
 "Up, man!" he shouted, seizing his hand. "Up!' You are 
 not sick! There is no cholera in Simiti! There is none in 
 Bodega Central! Feliz did not bring it! He and Amado had 
 only a touch of the flux, and they died of fear!" 
 
 . The priest's ringing words acted upon the man like magic. 
 He roused up from his lethargy and stared at the assemblage. 
 Don Jorge repeated the priest's words, and added his own 
 laughing and boisterous comments. Pedro rose from his bed, 
 and stood staring. 
 
 Together, their little band augmented at every corner by 
 the startled people, they hurried to the homes of all who lay 
 upon beds of sickness, spreading the glad tidings, until the 
 little town was in a state of uproar. Like black shadows before 
 
 186 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the light, the plague fled into the realm of imagination from 
 ■which it had come. By night, all but Mateo Gil were up and 
 about their usual affairs. But even Mateo had revived wonder- 
 fully; and Jose was confident that the good news would be 
 the leaven of health that would work a complete restoration 
 within him in time. The exiles left the hilltop and the old 
 church, and returned again to their homes. Don Jorge took 
 up his abode with Jose. 
 
 "Bien," he said, as they sat at the rear door of the priest's 
 house, looking through the late afternoon haze out over the 
 lake, "you have had a strange experience — Caramba! most 
 strange! — and yet one from which you should gather an ex- 
 cellent lesson. You are dealing with children here^ — children 
 who have always -been rocked in the cradle of the Church. 
 But — " looking archly at Jose, "do I offend? For, as I told 
 you on the boat a year ago, I do not think you are a good 
 priest." He laughed softly. "Sfen," he added, "I will correct 
 that. You are good — ^but not a priest, is it not so?" 
 
 "I have some views, Don Jorge, which differ radically from 
 those of the faith," Jose said cautiously. 
 
 "Caramba! I should hope so!" his friend ejaculated. 
 
 "But," interposed Jos6, anxious to direct the conversation 
 into other channels, "may I ask how and where you have occu- 
 pied yourself since I left the boat at Badillo?" 
 
 "Ah, Dios!" said Don Jorge, shaking his head, although his 
 eyes twinkled. "I have wandered ever since — and am poorer 
 now than when I started. I left our boat at Puerto Nacional, 
 to go to Medellln; and from there to Remedios and Guamoc6. 
 But while in the river town I met another guaquero — grave 
 hunter, you know — who was preparing to go to Honda, to 
 investigate the 'castles' at that place. There is a strange legend 
 -^you may have heard it^hanging over those rocks. It ap- 
 pears that a lone hermit lived in one of the many caverns in 
 the great limestone deposits rising abruptly from the river 
 near the town of Honda. How he came there, no one knew. 
 Day after day, year after, year, he labored in his cave, extend- 
 ing it further into the hillside. People laughed at him for 
 tunneling in that barren rock, for gold has never been found 
 anywhere in it. But the fellow paid them no attention; and 
 gradually he was accepted as a harmless fanatic, and was left 
 unmolested to dig his way into the hill as far as he would. 
 Years passed. No one knew how the fellow lived, for he. held 
 no human intercourse. Kind people often brought food and 
 left it at the mouth of his cavern, but he would have none of 
 it. They brought clothes, but they rotted where they were left. 
 What he ate, no one could discover. At last some good soul 
 
 187 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 planted a fig tree near the cave, hoping that the fruit in time 
 would prove acceptable to him. One da:y they found the tree 
 cut down. Bien, time passed, and he was forgotten. One day 
 some men, passing the cave, found his body, pale and thin, 
 with long, white hair, lying at the entrance. But — Caramba! 
 when they buried the body they found it was that of a woman!" 
 
 He paused to draw some leaves of tobacco from his wallet 
 and roll a thick cigar. The sudden turn of his story drew an 
 expression of amazement from the priest. 
 
 "Bien," he resumed, "where the woman came from, and 
 who she was, never was learned. Nor how she lived. But of 
 course some one must have supplied her with food and clothes 
 all these years. Perhaps she was some grand dame, with a 
 dramatic past, who had come there to esc,ape thie world and 
 do penance for her sins. What sorrow, what black tragedy 
 that cave concealed, no one may ever know ! Nor am I at all 
 interested in that. The point is, either she found gold there, 
 or had a quantity of it that she brought with her — at least so 
 I thought at the time. So, when the guaquero at Puerto Na- 
 cional told me the story, nothing would do but I must go with 
 him to search the cave. Caramba! We wasted three full 
 months prying around there^ — and had our labor for our 
 pains!" 
 
 He tilted his chair back and puffed savagely at his cigar. 
 
 "Well, then I got on the windy side of another legend, a 
 wild tale of buried treasure in the vicinity of Mompox. Of 
 course I hurried after it. Spent six months pawing the hot dirt 
 around that old town. Fell in with your estimable citizen, 
 Don Felipe, who swindled me out of a hundred good pesos oro 
 on a fraudulent location and a forged map. Then I cursed him 
 and the place and went up to Banco." 
 
 "Banco!" Jose's heart began beating rapidly. Don Jorge 
 went on : 
 
 "Your genial friend Diego is back there. Told me about 
 his trip to Simiti to see his little daughter." 
 
 "What did he say about her, amigo?" asked Josd in a con- 
 trolled voice. 
 
 "Not much— only that he expected to send for her soon. 
 You know, Rosendo's daughter is living with him. Fine look- 
 ing wench, too!" 
 
 "But, Don Jorge," pursued Jos6 anxiously, "what think 
 you, is. the little Carmen Diego's child?" 
 
 "Hombre! How should I know? He no doubt has many." 
 
 "She does not look like him," asserted Jose, clinging to his 
 note of optimism. 
 
 "No. And fortunate she is in that! Caram 6a, but he looks 
 like an imp from sheol!" 
 
 188 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Jose saw that little consolation was to be derived from 
 Don Jorge as far as Carmen was concerned. So he allowed 
 the subject to lapse. 
 
 "Bien," continued Don Jorge, whose present volubility was 
 in striking contrast to his reticence on the boat the year be- 
 fore, "I had occasion to come up to Bodega Central — another 
 legend, if I must confess it. And there Don Carlos Norosi 
 directed me here." 
 
 "What a life!" exclaimed Jos6. 
 
 "Yes, no doubt it appears so to you, Senor Padre," replied 
 Don Jorge. "And yet my business, that of treasure hunting, 
 has in times past proved very lucrative. The Indian graves of 
 Colombia have yielded enormous quantities of gold. The 
 Spaniards Opened many of them ; and in one, that of a famous 
 chieftain, discovered down below us, near Zaragoza, they found 
 a solid gold pineapple, a marvelous piece of workmanship, and 
 of immense value. They sent it to the king of Spain. Carambal 
 it never would have reached him if I had been there! 
 
 "But," he resumed, "we have no idea of the amount of 
 treasure that has been buried in various parts of Colombia. 
 This country has been, and still is, enormously rich in minerals 
 — a veritable gold mine of itself. And since the time of the 
 Spanish conquest it has been in a state of almost constant 
 turmoil. Nothing and nobody has been safe. And, up to very 
 recent times, whenever the people collected a bit of gold above 
 their daily needs, they promptly banked it with good Mother 
 Earth. Then, like as not, they got themselves killed in the 
 wars, and the treasure was left for some curious and greedy 
 hunter like myself to dig up years after. The Royalists and 
 Tories buried huge sums all over the country during the War 
 of Independence. Why, it was only a year or so ago that two 
 men came over from Spain and went up the Magdalena river 
 to Bucaramanga. They were close-mouthed fellows, well- 
 dressed, and evidently well-to-do. But they had nothing to say 
 to anybody. The inn-keeper pried around until he discovered 
 that they spent much time in their room pOring over maps and 
 papers. Then they set off alone, with an outfit of mules and 
 supplies to last several weeks. Bueno, they came back at last 
 with a box of good size, made of mahogany, and bound around 
 with iron bands. Carambat They did not tarry long, you may 
 be sure. And I learned afterward that they sailed away safely 
 from Cartagena, box and all, for sunny Spain, where, I doubt 
 not, they are now living in idleness and gentlemanly ease on 
 what they found in the big coffer they dug up hear that old 
 Spanish city." 
 
 Jos4 ' listened eagerly. To him, cooped up for a year and 
 
 189 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 more in the narrow confines of Simiti, the ready flow of this 
 man's conversation was like a fountain of sparkling water to 
 a thirsty traveler. He urged him to go on, plying him with 
 questions about his strange avocation. 
 
 "Caramba, but the old Indian chiefs were wise fellows!" 
 Don Jorge pursued. "They seemed to know that greedy van- 
 dals like myself would some day poke around in their last rest- 
 ing places for the gold that was always buried with them — 
 possibly to pay their freight across the dark river. And so 
 they dug their graves in the form of an L, in the extreme tip 
 of which the royal carcasses were laid. In this way they have 
 deceived many a grave-hunter, who dug straight down without 
 finding the body, which was safely tucked away in the toe of 
 the L. I have gone back and reopened many a grave that I had 
 abandoned as empty, and found His Royal Highness five or six 
 feet to one side of the straight shaft I had previously sunk." 
 
 "I suppose," mused Jose, "that you now follow this work 
 because of its fascination — for you must have found and laid 
 aside much treasure in the years that you have pursued it." 
 
 "Caramba!" ejaculated the guaquero. "I have been rich 
 and poor, like the rising and setting of the sun ! What I find, 
 I spend again hunting more.' It is the way of the world. The 
 man who has enough money neverknows it. And his greed for 
 more — more that he needs not, and cannot possibly spend on 
 himself — generally results, as in my case, in the loss of what 
 he already has. But there are reasons aside from the excite- 
 ment of the chase that keep me at it." 
 
 He fell strangely silent, and Jose knew that there were 
 aroused within him memories that seared the tissues of the 
 brain as they entered. 
 
 "Amigo," Don Jorge resumed. His voice was low, tense 
 and cold. "There are some things which I am trying to forget. 
 This exciting and dangerous business of mine keeps my 
 thought occupied. I care nothing now for the treasure I may 
 discover. But I crave forgetfulness. Do you understand?" 
 
 "Surely, good friend," replied Jos6 quickly; "and I ask 
 pardon for recalling those things to you." 
 
 "De nada, amigo!" said Don Jorge, with a gesture of depre- 
 cation. Then: "I told you on the boat that I had lost a wife 
 and girl. The Church got them both. I tell you this because 
 I know you, too, have grievances against her. Caramba! Yet 
 I will tell you only a part. I lived in Maganguey, where my 
 wife's brother kept a store and did an excellent commission 
 business. I was mining and hunting graves in the Cauca re- 
 gion, sometimes going up the Magdalena, too, and working 
 on both sides of the river. Maganguey was a convenient place 
 
 190 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 for me to live, as it stands at the junction of the two great 
 rivers. Besides, my wife wished to remain near her own peo- 
 ple. Bien, we had a daughter. She grew up fair and good. 
 And then, one day, the priest told my wife that the girl was 
 destined to a great future, and must enter a convent and con- 
 secrate herself to the Church. Caramba! I am not a Catholic 
 — was never one! My parents were patriots, and both took 
 part in the great war that gave liberty to this country. But 
 they were liberal in thought; and I was never confirmed to the 
 Church. Bien, the priest made my life a hell — my wife became 
 estranged from me — and one day, returning from the Cauca, 
 I found my house deserted. Wife and girl and the child's nurse 
 had gone down the river!" 
 
 The man's face darkened, and hard lines drew around his 
 mouth. 
 
 "They had taken my money chest, some thousands of pesos. 
 I sought the priest. He laughed at me, and — Caramba! I struck 
 him such a blow between his pig eyes that he lay senseless for 
 hours!" 
 
 Jose glanced at the broad shoulders and the great knots of 
 muscle on the man's arms. He was of medium height, but 
 with a frame of iron. 
 
 "Bien, Sefior Padre, I, too, fled wild and raving from Magan- 
 guey that night, and plunged into the jungle. Months later I 
 drifted down the river, as far as Mompox. And there one day 
 I chanced upon old Marcelena, the child's nurse. Like a cay- 
 man I seized her and dragged her into an alley. She confessed 
 that my wife and girl were living there — the wife had become 
 housekeeper for a young priest — -the girl was in the convent. 
 Caramba I I hurled the woman to the ground and turned my 
 back upon the city!" 
 
 Jose's interest in the all too common recital received a 
 sudden stimulus. 
 
 "Your daughter's name, Don Jorge, was — " 
 
 "Maria, Sefior Padre." 
 
 "And — she would now be, how old, perhaps?" 
 
 "About twfenty-two, I think." 
 
 "Her appearance?" 
 
 "Fair — complexion light, like her mother's. Maria was a 
 beautiful child — and good as she was beautiful." 
 
 "But — the child's nurse remained with her?" 
 
 "Marcelena? Yes. She was devoted to the little Maria. 
 The woman was old and ugly — but she loved the child." 
 
 "Did you not inquire for them when you were in Mompox 
 a few months ago?" pursued Jose eagerly, 
 
 "I made slight inquiry through the clerk in the office of 
 
 191 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the Alcalde. I did not intend to — but I could not help it. 
 Caramba! He made further inquiry, but said only that he 
 was told they had long since gone down to Cartagena, and 
 nothing had been heard from them." 
 
 The gates of memory's great reservoir opened at the touch 
 of this man's story, and Jose again lived through that moonlit 
 night in Cartagena, when the little victim of Wenceslas 
 breathed out her life of sorrow and shame in his arms. He 
 heard again the sobs of Marcelena and the simple-minded 
 Catalina. He saw again the figure of the compassionate Christ 
 in the smoke that drifted past the window. And now the 
 father of that wronged girl sat before him, wrapped in the 
 tatters of a shredded happiness! Should he tell him? Should 
 he say that he had cared for this man's little grandson since 
 his advent into this sense of existence that mortals call life? 
 For there could be no doubt now that the little Maria was his 
 daughter^ 
 
 "Don Jorge," he said, "you have suffered much. My heart 
 bleeds for you. And yet — " 
 
 "Na, Padre, there is nothing to do. Were I to find my 
 family I could only slay them and the priests who came be- 
 tween us!" 
 
 "But, Don Jorge," cried Jose in horror, "you surely medi- 
 tate no such vengeance as that!" 
 
 The man smiled grimly. "Senor Padre," he returned cold- 
 ly, "I am Spanish. The blood of the old cavaliers flows in my 
 veins. I have been betrayed, trapped, fooled, and my honored 
 name has been foully soiled. What will remove the stain, 
 think you? Blood — nothing else! Caramba! The priest of 
 Maganguey who poured the first drop of poison into my wife's 
 too willing ears — Bien, I have said enotigh!" 
 
 "Hombre! You don't mean — " 
 
 "I mean, Senor Padre, that I drifted down the river, unseen, 
 to Maganguey one night. I entered that priest's house. He 
 did not awake the next morning." 
 
 "God!" exclaimed Jose, starting up. 
 
 "Nq, Padre, not God, but Satan! He rules this world." 
 
 Jose sank back in his chair. Don Jorge leaned forward and 
 laid a hand upon his knee. "My friend," he said evenly, "you 
 are young — ho\v old, may I ask?" 
 
 "Twenty-seven," murmured Jose. 
 
 "Caramfea/ A child! Bien, you have much to learn. I 
 took to you on the boat because I knew you had made a mess 
 of things, and it was not entirely your fault. I have seen 
 others like you. You are no more in the Church than I am. 
 Now why do you stay here? Do I offend in asking?" 
 
 192 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Jose hesitated. "I — I have — work here, senor," he replied. 
 
 "True," said Don Jorge, "a chance to do much for these 
 poor people — if the odds are not too strong against you. Bui 
 — are you working for them alone? Or — does Diego's child 
 figure in the case? No offense, I assure you — I have reason 
 to ask." 
 
 Jose sought to read his eyes. The man looked squarely 
 into his own, and the priest found no deception in their black 
 depths. 
 
 "I — senor, she cannot be Diego's child — and I — I would 
 save her!" 
 
 Don Jorge nodded his head. "Bien," he said, "to-morrow 
 I leave for San Lucas. I will return this way." 
 
 After the evening meal the guaquero spread his petate upon 
 the floor and disposed himself for the night. He stubbornly 
 refused to accept the priest's bed. "Caramba!" he muttered, 
 after he had lain quiet for some time, "why does not the Church 
 permit its clergy to marry, like civilized beings! Do you 
 know, Senor Padre, I once met a woman in Bogota and held 
 some discussion with her on this topic. She said, as between a 
 priest who had children, and a married minister, she would 
 infinitely prefer the priest, because, as she put it, no matter 
 how dissolute the priest, the sacraments from his hands would 
 still retain their validity — ^but never from those of a married 
 minister! Caramba! what can you do against such bigotry 
 and awful narrowness, such dense ignorance! Cielo!" ' 
 
 The following morning, before sunrise, Don Jorge and his 
 boatmen were on the lake, leaving Jose to meditate on the 
 vivid experiences of the past few days, their strange mental 
 origin, and the- lesson which they brought. 
 
 CHAPTER 22 
 
 "T^ADRE dear," said Carmen, "you know the question that 
 I we put under the altar of the old church? Well, God 
 ■^ answered it, didn't He?" 
 
 "I — ^why, I had forgotten it, child. What was it? You 
 asked Him to tell us why the people thought they had to die, 
 did you not? Well — and what was His answer?" 
 
 "Why, He told us that they were frightened to death, you 
 know." 
 
 "True, chiquita. Fear killed them — nothing else! They 
 paid the penalty of death for believing that Feliz Gomez had 
 slept on a bed where a man had died of the plague. They died 
 because they — " 
 
 193 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "Because they didn't know that God was everywhere, Padre 
 dear," interrupted Carmen. 
 
 "Just so, chiquita. And that is why all people die. And 
 yet," he added sadly, "how are we going to make them know 
 that He is everywhere?" 
 
 "Why, Padre dear, by showing them in our talk and our 
 actions that we know it — ^by proving it, you know, just as we 
 prove our problems in algebra." 
 
 "Yes, poor Feliz, and Amado, and Guillermo died because 
 they sinned," he mused. "They broke the first Commandment 
 by believing that there was another power than God. And 
 that sin brought its inevitable wage, death. They 'missed 
 the mark,' and sank into the oblivion of their false beliefs. 
 God above! that I could keep my own mentality free from 
 these same carnal beliefs, and so be a true missionary to 
 suffering humanity! But you, Carmen, you are going to be 
 such a missionary. And I believe," he muttered through his 
 set teeth, "that I am appointed to shield the girl until God is 
 ready to send her forth I But what, oh, what will she do when 
 she meets that world which lies beyond her little Simiti?" 
 
 Rosendo had returned to Guamoc6. "The deposit will not 
 last much longer," he said to Jose, shaking his head^ dubiously. 
 "And then—" 
 
 "Why, then we will find another, Rosendo," replied the 
 priest optimistically. 
 
 "Ojala!" exclaimed the old man, starting for the trail. 
 
 The day after Don Jorge's departure the Alcalde returned. 
 He stole shamefacedly through the streets and barricaded him- 
 self in his house. There he gave vent to his monumental 
 wrath. He cruelly abused his long-suffering spouse, and ended 
 by striking her across the face. After which he sat down and 
 laboriously penned a long letter to Padre Diego, in which the 
 names of Jose and Carmen figured plentifully. 
 
 For Don Jorge had met the Alcalde in Juncal, and had 
 roundly jeered him for his cowardly flight. He cited Jose and 
 Rosendo as examples of valor, and pointed out that the Alcalde 
 greatly resembled a captain who fled at the smell of gun- 
 powder. Don Mario swelled with indignation and shame. His 
 spleen worked particularly against Rosendo and the priest. 
 Come what might, it was time Diego and his superiors in 
 Cartagena knew what was going on in the parish of Simiti! 
 
 A few days later an unctuous letter came to Jose from 
 Diego, requesting that Carmen be sent to him at once, as he 
 now desired to place her in a convent and thus supplement the 
 religious education which he was sure Jose had so ■*vell begun 
 in her. The priest had scarcely read the letter when Don Mario 
 appeared at the parish house. 
 
 194 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Bien, Padre," he began smoothly, but without concealing 
 the malice which lurked beneath his oily words, "Padre 
 Diego sends for the little Carmen, and bids me arra'nge to have 
 her conveyed at once to Banco. I think Juan will take her 
 down, is it not so?" 
 
 Jose looked him squarely in the eyes. "No, senor," he said 
 in a voice that trembled with agitation, "it is not so!" 
 
 "Hombre!" exclaimed Don Mario, swelling with suppressed 
 rage. "You refuse to give Diego his own child?" 
 
 "No, sefior, but I refuse to give him a child that is not his." 
 
 "Caramba! but she is — he has the proofs! And I shall 
 send her to him this day!" 
 
 The Alcalde shrilled forth his rage like a ruflled parrot. 
 Jose seized him by the shoulders and, turning him swiftly 
 about, pushed him out into the road. He then entered the 
 rear door of Rosendo's house and bade Doiia Maria keep the 
 child close to her. 
 
 A few minutes later Fernando Perez appeared at Josd's 
 door. He was municipal clerk, secretary, and constable of 
 Simiti, all in one. He saluted the priest gravely, and demanded 
 the body of the child Carmen, to be returned to her proper 
 father. 
 
 Jose groaned inwardly. What could he do against the es- 
 tablished authority? 
 
 "Bien, Padre," said Fernando, after delivering his message, 
 "the hour is too late to send her down the river to-day. But 
 deliver her to me, and she shall go down at daybreak." 
 
 "Listen," Jos^ pleaded desperately, "Fernando, leave her 
 here to-night^ — this is sudden, you. must acknowledge — she 
 must have time to take leave of Dona Maria — and — " 
 
 "Senor Padre, the Alcalde's order is that she go with me 
 now. I must obey." 
 
 Jose felt his control oozing fast. Scarce knowing what he 
 did, he quickly stepped back through the rear door, and going 
 to Rosendo's house, seized a large machete, with which he re- 
 turned to face the constable. 
 
 "Look you, Fernando," he cried, holding the weapon men- 
 acingly aloft, "if you lay a hand on that girl, I will scatter 
 your brains through yonder plaza!" 
 
 "Caramba!" muttered the constable, falling back. "Bien" 
 he hastily added, "I will make this report to the Alcalde!" 
 With which he beat an abrupt retreat. 
 
 Jose sank into a chair. But he hastily arose and went into 
 Rosendo's house. "Dona Maria!" he cried excitedly, "leave 
 Carmen with me, and do you hurry through the town and see 
 if Juan is here, and if Lazaro Ortiz has returned from the 
 
 195 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 hacienda. Bid them come to me at once, and bring their 
 machetes!" 
 
 The -woman set out on her errand. Jos6 seized his machete 
 firmly in one hand, and with the other drew Carmen to him. 
 
 "What is it. Padre dear?" the child asked, her eyes big with 
 wonder. "Why do you tremble? I wish you wouldn't always 
 go around thinking that two and two are seven!" 
 
 "Carmen, child^-you do not understand — ^you are too 
 young, and as yet you have had no experience with — ^with the 
 world! You must trust me now!" 
 
 "I do not trust you. Padre," she said sadly. "I can't trust 
 anybody who always sees things that are not so." . 
 
 "Carmen — ^you are in danger — and you do not compre- 
 hend — " cried the desperate man. 
 
 "I am not in danger — and I do understand — a great deal 
 better than you do. Padre. Now let me go — ^you are afraid! 
 People who are afraid die of the plague!" The irony of her 
 words sank into his soul. 
 
 Juan looked in at the door. Jos6 rose hastily. "Did you 
 meet Dona Maria?" he asked. 
 
 "No, senor," the lad replied. 
 
 "She is searching for you — have you your machete?" 
 
 "Yes, Padre, I have just come back from the island, where 
 I was cutting wood." 
 
 "Good, then ! Remain here with me. I need you — or may." 
 
 He went to the door and looked eagerly down the street. 
 "Ah!" he exclaimed with relief, "here come Dona Maria and 
 Lazaro! Now, friends," he began, when they were assembled 
 before him, "grave danger threatens — " 
 
 "Padre!" It was Doiia Maria's voice. "Where is Carmen?" 
 
 Jose turned. The child had disappeared. 
 
 "Lazaro!" he cried, "go at once to the Boque trail! Let 
 no one pass that way with Carmen, if your life be the penalty ! 
 Juan, hurry to the lake ! If either of you see her, call loudly, 
 and I will come! Dona Maria, start through the town! We 
 must find her! God above, help us!" 
 
 ♦ »»♦♦» 
 
 The afternoon dragged its interminable length acrdss the 
 valley. Jos6 wearily entered his house and threw himself 
 upon a chair. He had not dared call at the Alcalde's house, 
 for fear he might do that official violence. But he had seen 
 Fernando in the street, and had avoided him. Then, of a 
 sudden, a thought came to him from out the darkness. He 
 sprang to bis feet- and hurried off toward the shales. There, 
 beneath the stunted algarroba tree, sat the child. 
 
 "Carmen!" He rushed to her and clasped her in his arms. 
 "Why did you do this—?" 
 
 196 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Padre," she replied, when she could get her breath, "I had 
 to come out here and try to know for you the things you 
 ought to know for yourself." 
 
 He said nothing; but, holding her hand tightly, he led her 
 back to the house. 
 
 That evening Jose sent for Don Mario, the constable, and 
 Juan and L^aro. Assembling them before him in his living 
 room, he talked with them long and earnestly, 
 
 "Compadres," he said, "this week we have passed through a 
 sad experience, and the dark angel has robbed us of three of 
 our beloved friends. Is it your wish that death again visit us?" 
 
 They looked at one another in wonder. The Alcalde 
 scowled darkly at the priest beneath his heavy brows. Jos6 
 continued : 
 
 "Bien, it is planned to seize the little Carmen by force, and 
 send her down the river to Padre Diego — " 
 
 "Dios y diablo!" Juan had sprung to his feet. "Who says 
 that. Padre?" he demanded savagely. The Alcalde shrank back 
 in his chair. 
 
 "Be calm, Juan!" Jose replied. "Padre Diego sends for her 
 by letter — is it not so, Don Mario?" 
 
 The latter grunted. Juan wheeled about and stared men- 
 acingly at the bulky official. 
 
 "Now, friends," Jose pursued, "it has not been shown that 
 Carmen belongs to Diego — in fact, all things point to the con- 
 clusion that she is not his child. My wish is to be just to all 
 concerned. But shall we let the child go to him, knowing what 
 manner of man he is, until it is proven beyond all doubt that he 
 is her father?" 
 
 "Caramba! No!" exclaimed Juan and LSzaro in unison. 
 
 "And I am of the opinion that the majority of our citizens 
 would support us in the contention. What think you, friends?" 
 
 "Every man in Simiti, Padre," replied Lazaro earnestly. 
 
 "Don Mario," said Jose, turning to the Alcalde, "until it is 
 established that Diego has a parent's claim to the girl, Juan 
 and Lazaro and I will protect her with our lives. Is it not so, 
 amigos?" addressing the two men. 
 
 "Hombrel Let me see a hand laid upon her!" cried Juan 
 rising. 
 
 Lazaro spoke more deliberately. "Padre," he said. "I owe 
 you much. I know you to be a. good man— not like Padre 
 Diego. I know not what claim he may have on the girl, but 
 this I say: I will follow and support you until it is shown me 
 that you are in the wrong." 
 
 Jose went over and clasped his hand. Then, to the town 
 officials : 
 
 197 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Bien, amigos, we ■will let the matter rest thus, shall we 
 not? We now understand one another. If harm comes to the 
 child, the death angel will again stalk through this town, 
 and — " he looked hard at Don Mario, whilst that official visibly 
 shrank in size — "Bien," he concluded, "a sharp watch will be 
 kept over the child. We will submit to proofs — ^but to nothing 
 less. And violence will bring bloodshed and death." 
 
 "But — Caramba!" cried Don Mario, at last finding his voice. 
 "If Diego has the Bishop back of him, he will force us to 
 deliver the girl — or the Bishop will have the government sol- 
 diers sent here ! I can ask for them — and if necessary I will !" 
 
 Jose paled slightly. He knew the Alcalde spoke truth. Don 
 Mario, seeing that his words had taken effect, quickly followed 
 up the advantage. "Now you, Juan and Lazaro, do you think 
 the little whelp worth that?" 
 
 The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Juan leaped 
 across the floor and fell upon him. Jos6 seized the lad and, 
 with Fernando's help, tore him loose, Lazaro held his machete 
 aloft, ready to strike. Jose's voice rang out sharply: 
 
 "Hold, men! Stop! Go you to your homes now! Juan, 
 do you stay here with me!" 
 
 The lad faced the Alcalde and shook his fist. "Bien" he 
 sputtered, "send for the soldiers, fat dog that you are! But 
 when I see them crossing the lake, I will come first to your 
 house and cut open that big belly!" 
 
 "Arrest him, Fernando!" shrilled the Alcalde, shaking with 
 rage. 
 
 "I vdll cut off the hand that is laid on Juan!" cried Lazaro, 
 advancing. 
 
 "Men! Men! Don Mario and Fernando, go now! Enough 
 of this ! And for God's sake think twice before you make any 
 further move!" 
 
 Don Mario and his constable departed in sullen silence. 
 Jose let Lazaro out through the rear door, while he bade Juan 
 pass the night in the parish house. A consultation was held 
 with Doiia Maria, and it was arranged that Carmen should 
 sleep in the room with Jos^, with Juan lying before the door, 
 until Rosendq should return from the mountains. Then Jos6 
 sat down and wrote to the Bishop. 
 
 • • ♦ •♦ f t 
 
 No reply came from Cartagena until Rosendo returned at 
 the end of the month. Meanvfrhile, Jose had never for a moment 
 permitted Carmen to leave his side. The child chafed under 
 the limitation; but Jose and Doiia Maria were firm. Juan 
 lived with the priest; and Lazaro lurked about the parish house 
 like a shadow. The Alcalde and his constable remained dis- 
 creetly aloof. 
 
 198 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 But with Rosendo's return came letters from both Wen- 
 ceslas and Diego. The latter .had laid aside his unction, and 
 now made a curt and peremptory demand upon Jose for the 
 child. The letter from Wenceslas was noncommittal, stating 
 only that he was quite uninformed of Diego's claim, but that an 
 investigation should be made. Jos6 wondered if he had blun- 
 dered in laying the case before him. 
 
 "Hombre!" ejaculated Rosendo, when he heard Josd's story. 
 "It is as I feared ! And now the Bishop has the matter in hand ! 
 Caramba! We shall lose her yet! 
 
 "And, Padre," he added, "the deposit is played out. There 
 is no more gold there. And, now that we shall have none to 
 send to the Bishop each month, Carmen's fate is settled — un- 
 less we go away. And where shall we go? We could not get 
 out of the country." He hung his head and sat in gloomy de- 
 jection. 
 
 For more thari a year Rosendo had panned the isolated 
 alluvial deposit, and on his regular monthly returns to Simiti 
 he and the priest had sent from thirty to ninety pesos gold to 
 Wenceslas. To this Jose sometimes added small amounts col- 
 lected from the people of Simiti, which they had gratuitously 
 given him for Masses and for the support of the parish. Wen- 
 ceslas, knowing the feeble strength of the parish, was sur- 
 prised, but discreet; and though he continually urged Jose to 
 greater efforts, and held out the allurements of "indulgences 
 and special dispensations," he made no inquiries regarding 
 the source of the monthly contributions. 
 
 For many days following, Rosendo and the priest went about 
 as in a thick, black cloud. "Rosendo," said Jose at length, 
 "go back to the mountains and search again. God was with 
 us before. Have we any reason to doubt Him now?" 
 
 "And leave Carmen here, exposed to the danger that always 
 hangs over her? Caramba, no! I would not go back now even 
 if the deposit were not worked out ! No!" Jos6 knew it would 
 be futile to urge him. 
 
 Carmen came to the priest that same day. "Padre, I heard 
 you and padre Rosendo talking this morning. Have you no 
 money, no gold?" 
 
 "Why, child — tlxere seems to be a need just at present," he 
 replied lightly, "But we might— well, we might send another 
 of your questions to God. What say you?" 
 
 "Of course!" she cried delightedly, turning at once and hur- 
 rying away for pencil and paper. 
 
 "Now," she panted, seating herself at the table. "Let us 
 see; we want Him to give us pesos, don't we?" 
 
 "Yes — many — a large sum. Make it big," he said face- 
 tiously. 
 
 199 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Well, you know, Padre dear," she replied seriously, "we 
 can't ask for too much — for we already have everything, 
 haven't we? After all, we can only ask to see what we really 
 already have. 
 
 "Say 'yes,' Padre dear," she pleaded, looking up appeal- 
 ingly at him staring silently at her. Oh, if she could only im- 
 part to him even a little of her abundant faith! She had 
 enough, and to «pare ! 
 
 "Well, here it is," she said, holding out the paper. 
 
 He took it and read — "Dear, dear God: Padre Jose needs 
 pesos — lots of them. What shall he do?" 
 
 "And now," she continued, "shall we put it under the altar 
 of the old church?" 
 
 He smiled; but immediately assumed an expression of great 
 seriousness. "Why not in the church here, the one we are 
 using? The other is so far away?" he suggested. "And it is 
 getting dark now." 
 
 "But — no, we will go where we went before," she concluded 
 firmly. 
 
 Again he yielded. Taking matches and a piece of candle, 
 he set off with the girl in a circuitous route for the hill, which 
 they gained unobserved. Within the musty old church he 
 struck a light, and they climbed over the dibris and to the rear 
 of the crumbling altar. 
 
 "See!" she cried joyously. "Here is my other question that 
 He answered! Doesn't He answer them quick though! Why, 
 it took, only a day!" 
 
 She drew the old paper from beneath the adobe brick. Then 
 she hesitated. "Let us put this question in a new place," she 
 said. "Look, up there, where the bricks have fallen out," 
 pointing to the part Of the altar that had crumbled away. 
 
 Jose rose obediently to execute the commission. His thought 
 was far off, even in Cartagena, where sat the powers that must 
 be held quiet if his cherished plans were not to fail. He reached 
 out and grasped one of the projecting bricks to steady himself. 
 As he did so, the brick, which was loose, gave way with him, 
 and he fell, almost across Carmen, followed by a shower of 
 rubbish, as another portion of the old altar fell out. 
 
 "HombreJ" he ejaculated, picking himself up. "What good 
 luck that the candle was liot extingtiished ! And now, seiiorita, 
 are you willing that we should bury this important question 
 here on the floor; or must I again try to put it in the altar 
 itself?" 
 
 "Up there," insisted the child, laughing and still pointing 
 above. 
 
 He rose and looked about, searching for a convenient place 
 
 200 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 to deposit the paper. Then something attracted his attention, 
 something buried in the altar, but now exposed by the falling 
 out of the fresh portion. It was metal, and it glittered in the 
 feeble candle light. He reached in and hastily scraped away 
 more of the hard mud. Then, trembling with suppressed ex- 
 citement, he pulled out another brick. Clearly, it was a box 
 that had been buried in there — ^who knows when? He gave the 
 candle to Carmen and bade her stand up close. Then with both 
 hands he carefully removed the adjacent bricks until the entire 
 box was in view. 
 
 "Hombrel" he muttered. "What do you suppose this is? 
 A box— " 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed the girl in delight. "A box to put our 
 question in, Padre!" 
 
 "More likely the answer itself, child!" muttered the ex- 
 cited priest, straining and tugging away at it. "Carmen ! Stand 
 aside!" he suddenly commanded. "Now — " He gave a final 
 puU. A crash of falling bricks followed; the candle was ex- 
 tinguished; and both he and the child were precipitated to the 
 floor. 
 
 "Carmen!" called the priest, choking with dust, "are you 
 hurt?" 
 
 "No, Padre dear," came the laughing answer through the 
 darkness. "But I'm pretty full of dust. And the candle is 
 buried." 
 
 Jose groped about for the box. It lay near, a small, wooden 
 coffer, bound about with two narrow bands of steel. He dragged 
 it out and bore it down the aisle to the door, followed by Car- 
 men. 
 
 "Padre!" she exclaimed eagerly. "What is it?" 
 
 He dusted it off and examined it carefully in the fast fading 
 light. It was some twelve inches square by three deep, well 
 made of mahogany, and secured by a small, iron padlock. On 
 the top there was a crest of arms and the letters, "I de R," 
 burned into the wood. 
 
 Night had closed in, and the priest and girl made their 
 way hurriedly back home by way of the lake, to avoid being 
 seen. Undfer his cassock Jose carried the box, so heavy that 
 it chafed the skin from his hip as they stumbled along. 
 
 "Carmen, say nothing — but tell your padre Rosendo to 
 come to me at once!" 
 
 With the doors secured, and Carmen and Dona Maria stand- 
 ing guard outside to. apprise them of danger, Jose and Ro- 
 sendo covertly examined the discovery. 
 
 "I de R!" pondered Rosendo, studying the box. Then — 
 "Caramba! Padre — Caramba! It is Ignacio de Rincdn! Hombrel 
 
 201 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 And the crest — it is his! I have seen it before — ^years and 
 years ago! Caramba! Caramba!" The old man danced about 
 like a child. 
 
 "Ignacio de Rinc6n! Your grandfather!" he kept exclaiming, 
 his eyes big as saucers. Then, hastening out to get his iron bar, 
 he returned and with a blow broke the rusty padlock. Tearing 
 open the hinged cover, he fell back with a loud cry. 
 
 Before their strained gaze, packed carefully in sawdust, lay 
 several bars of yellow metal. Rosendo took them out with 
 trembling hands and laid them upon the floor. "Gold, Padre, 
 gold!" he muttered hoarsely. "Gold, buried by your grand- 
 father! Caramba! — 
 
 "Hold these. Padre!" hurrying out and returning with a 
 pair of homemade wooden balances. Again and again he care- 
 fully weighed the bars. Then he began to calculate. It seemed 
 to Jose that the old man wasted hours arriving at a satisfactory 
 result. 
 
 "Padre," he finally announced in tones which he strove 
 vainly to control, "there cannot be less than six thousand 
 pesos oro here!" 
 
 Jose drew a long breath. "Six thousand pesos— twenty-four 
 thousand francs! It is a fortune! Rosendo, we are rich!" 
 
 The trembling old man replaced the bars and carried them 
 to Josh's bed. The priest opened the door and called to Car- 
 men. 
 
 "What was in the old box. Padre?" she asked happily, 
 bounding into the room. 
 
 He stooped and picked her up, almost crushing her in his 
 arms. "The answer to your question, chiquita. 'Before they 
 call I will answer : and while they are yet speaking, I will 
 hear.' " 
 
 CHAPTER 23 
 
 WHEN 3os6 awoke the next morning he quickly put his 
 hand under his pillow. Yes, the little coffer was there ! 
 It had not been a dream. He drew it forth and raised 
 the cover. The yellow bars glittered in the morning rays sifting 
 through the overhanging thatch at the window. He passed his 
 hand gently across them. What a fortunate discovery! And 
 how strangely brought about ! They were rich ! Now he could 
 take Carmen and flee! His heart leaped within him as he 
 hastily threw on his scant attire and went out into the bal- 
 samic air of' the tropical morning. Rosendo had gone to the 
 village of Boque, starting before sun-up, so Dona Maria an- 
 
 202 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 nounced. Some sudden impulse had seized him, and he had 
 set out forthwith, not stopping to discuss the motive with his 
 faithful consort. Jos6 concluded his desayuno, and then sum- 
 moned Carmen to the parish house for the day's lessons. She 
 came with a song on her lips. 
 
 "Don't stop, chiquita! Sing it again — it is beautiful; and 
 my soul drinks it in like heavenly dew!" he cried, as the 
 child danced up to him and threw her plump arms about his 
 neck. 
 
 She turned about .and sat down on the dusty threshold and 
 repeated the little song. The glittering sunlight streamed 
 through her rich curls like stringers of wire gold. Cucumbra 
 came fawning to her and nestled at her little bare feet, caress- 
 ing them at frequent intervals with his rough tongue. Cantar- 
 las-horas approached with dignified tread, and, stopping be- 
 fore his adored little mistress, cocked his head to one side and 
 listened attentively, his beady eyes blinking in the dazzling 
 light. 
 
 Jose marveled anew as he listened. Where had that voice 
 come from? Had either of her parents been so gifted? he 
 wondered. And yet, it was only the voicing of a soul of stain- 
 less purity — a conscience clear as the light that gilded her curls 
 — a trust, a faith, a knowledge of immanent good, that mani- 
 fested daily, hourly, in a tide of happiness whose far verge 
 melted into the shore of eternity. As he sat with closed eyes 
 the adobe hut, with its dirt floor and shabby furnishings, ex- 
 panded into a castle, hung with richest tapestries, rarest pic- 
 tures, and glittering with plate of gold. The familiar odors of 
 garlic and saffron, which penetrated from the primitive kitchen 
 of Dona Maria, were transmuted into delicate perfumes. The 
 sun drew nearer, and suffused him with its glittering flood. 
 The girl became a white-robed vision, and her song a benedic- 
 tion, voicing "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace 
 among men of good will." 
 
 The song ended, and left the thought with him : "To men 
 of good will?" Yes, to men of God's will — ^the will that is good 
 — to men of sound mind — ^that mind which was in Christ Jesus 
 — the mind that knows no evil ! To such is eternal peace. 
 
 "Chiquita," the priest said gently, when the girl returned to 
 him. "Your question was quickly answered yesterday, was it 
 not?" 
 
 She laughed up into his face. "It was answered. Padre, be- 
 fore we asked it. God has the answers to all questions that 
 could ever be asked. We would always know the answers if 
 we thought the way He does." 
 
 "But — ^tell me, chiquita, do you think He put that little box 
 up there in the altar purposely for us?" 
 
 203 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "No, Padre- — I guess it was hidden there by some man, long 
 ago, who was afraid he would lose it. And since he was afraid 
 he would lose it, why^he did, for now we have it." 
 
 "Yes, the thing that he greatly feared came upon him. But 
 what is your idea regarding the way we happened to find it? 
 Did God lead us to it?" 
 
 "God leads to everything good. Padre dear," was the simple 
 response. 
 
 "Of course. But, in this particular case — ^would we have 
 been led to the little box if you had not asked your question of 
 God?" 
 
 "Why not. Padre? People are always led right when they 
 think right." 
 
 "And so thinking right was the cause of this discovery, 
 was it?" he pursued, relentlessly probing her thought to its 
 depths. 
 
 "Why-:-^yes, Padre — of course. We had to have money — 
 you said so, you know. And you told me to ask for lots of 
 pesos. Well, we both knew that God had already given us 
 more pesos than we could ever know what to do with — He 
 always does. He just can't help giving Himself to everybody. 
 And He gave Himself to us — ^why, we have always had Him! 
 We are in Him, you know. And when anybody just knows 
 that — why, he sees nothing but good everywhere, and he al- 
 ways has all that he needs." 
 
 "All that he wants, you mean, chiquita?" 
 
 "No, Padre, not all that he wants. Just all that he needs. 
 You might want all the gold in the world — ^but you wouldn't 
 need it." 
 
 "No, that would be only a selfish, human want. It would 
 be covetousness. But— you still think we were led right to the 
 little box, do you?" 
 
 "I know it. Padre dear," she replied emphatically. "When 
 we think good, we see good. It always comes out that way. 
 It is just as sure as getting the right answers to my problems in 
 algebra when I think right about them." 
 
 "And thinking right about them means using the right rule, 
 does it not?" 
 
 "Yes — of course. If I didn't use the right rule — ^why, what 
 sort of answers would I get? AH jumbled up!" 
 
 "Surely — ^perfect chaos. But still," vigorously pursuing the 
 subject, "you don't think we happened upon the little box just 
 by good luck?" 
 
 I "Padre," she shook her curls insistently, "things never hap- 
 pen, never! We see only what we think — always!" 
 
 "Yes, there surely does seem to be a definite law of cause 
 and effect. But you did not think gold yesterdays chiquita." 
 
 204 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Oh, Padre dear, what a bother you are! No, I didn't think 
 gold yesterday. I never think gold. But I always think good. 
 And that is gold and everything else that we need. Can't you 
 see? And it wasn't just because I thought good yesterday, but 
 .because I think good every day, that I saw the gold. It was 
 because we needed it, and God had already given us all that we 
 needed. And I knew that it just had to come. And so did you. 
 Then, because we really needed it, and knew that it was right 
 and that it must come — ^well, it did. Can't you see?" Her 
 little face was very serious as she looked up appealingly into 
 his. 
 
 "Yes, chiquita, yes, I see. I just wanted to know how you 
 would explain it. It becomes clearer to me every day that there 
 are no such things as miracles — never were! Christ-Jesus 
 never performed miracles, if by that we mean that he set aside 
 God's laws for the benefit of mankind. But he acted in per- 
 fect accord with those laws — and no wonder the results seemed 
 miraculous to dull-witted human minds, who had always seen 
 only their coarse, material thought externalized in material 
 laws and objects, in chance, mixed good and evil, and a God of 
 human characteristics!" 
 
 "Yes — I — guess so. Padre dear — only, I don't understand 
 your big words." 
 
 "Ah, chiquita, you understand far, far better than I do! 
 Why, I am learning it all from you ! But come, now for the 
 lessons." 
 
 And Jose had learned by this time, too, that between merely 
 recognizing righteousness as right-thinking, and actually prac- 
 ticing it — putting it to the test so as to "prove" God — there is 
 a vast difference. Things cannot be "thought" into existence, 
 nor evils "thought" away — the stumbling block of the mere tyro 
 in the study of mental cause and effect. A vast development in 
 spirituality must precede those "signs following" before man- 
 kind shall again do the works of the Master. Josd knew this; 
 and he bowed in humble submission, praying for daily light. 
 » » ♦ » » » 
 
 At dusk Rosendo returned. "Bien, Padre, I have it now, I 
 think!" he cried excitedly, pacing back and forth in the little 
 room. 
 
 "What, Rosendo?" asked the wondering priest. 
 
 "The secret of the little box I Come, while we eat I will tell 
 you!" 
 
 The little group gathered about the table, while Rosendo 
 unfolded his theory. 
 
 "I went to Boque this morning to talk with Doiia Lucia. 
 She is very aged, the oldest inhabitant in these parts. Bien, I 
 
 205 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 knew that she had known Don Ignacio, although she was not 
 his slave. Her story brought back to me also the things my 
 father had often told me about Don Ignacio's last trip to Simiti. 
 Putting all these things together, I think I now know how 
 the little box came to be hidden in the altar of the old church." 
 
 The old man's eyes sparkled with happiness, while his au- 
 ditors drew closer about him to drink in his dramatic recital. 
 For Rosendo, like a true Latin, reveled in a wonder-tale. And 
 his recitals were always accompanied by profuse gesticulation 
 and wonderful facial expressions and much rolling of the eyes. 
 
 "Bien," he continued, "it was this way. Don Ignacio's pos- 
 sessions in Guamoco were enormous, and in the then prosperous 
 city of Simiti he had stores and warehouses and much property. 
 When the War of Independence neared its end, and he saw 
 that the Royalist cause was lost, he made a last and flying trip 
 to Simiti, going up the Magdalena river from Cartagena in his 
 own champan, propelled by some of his still faithful slaves. 
 
 "Bien, he found that one of his foremen had just returned 
 from the mountains with the final clean-up from La Libertad 
 arrastras. . These had been abandoned, for most of the slaves 
 had deserted, or gone to fight the Spaniards. But the foreman, 
 who was not a slave, but a faithful employe, had cleaned up 
 the arrastras and hidden the amalgam until he could find a 
 favorable opportunity to come down to Simiti with it. 
 
 "Now, when Don Ignacio arrived here, he found the town 
 practically deserted. So he and the foreman retorted the 
 amalgam and melted the gold into bars. But, just as they had 
 completed their task, a messenger came flying to town and 
 reported that a body of Royalist soldiers were at Badillo, and 
 that they had learned that Simiti was the bodega of the rich 
 Guamocd district, and were preparing to come over and sack 
 the town. They were fleeing down the river to the coast, to 
 get away to Spain as soon as possible, but had put off at Badillo 
 to come over here. Fortunately, they had become very intoxi- 
 cated, and their expedition was for that reason delayed.: 
 
 "Bueno, at the news the foreman dropped everything and 
 fled for his life. A few people gathered with the priest in the 
 Rincon church, the one you are using now. Padre. The priest 
 of the other old church on the hill fled. Caramba, but he was 
 a coward — and he got well paid for it, too ! But of that later. 
 
 "Don Ignacio's champan was at Badillo, and he had come 
 across to Simiti by canoe. Bien, he dared not take this gold 
 back with him; and so he thought of hiding it in one of the 
 churches, for that is always a sacred place. There were people 
 in his own church, and so he hurried to the one on the hill. 
 Evidently, as he looked about in the deserted building for a 
 
 206 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 place to hide the bars, he saw that some of the bricks could 
 easily be removed from the rear of the altar. A couple of 
 hours sufficed to do the work of secreting the box. Then he 
 fled across the shales to the town of Boque, where he got a 
 canoe to take him down to the Magdalena; and there he waited 
 until he saw the soldiers come across and enter the cano. Then 
 he fled to Badillo. Don Nicolas, son of Doiia Lucia, was his 
 boatman, and he says that he remained with your grandfather 
 at that place over night, and that there they received the report 
 that the Royalists had been terribly whipped in the battle — the 
 _ battle of — Caramba! I forget — " 
 
 "Of Ayacucho," suggested Jose. 
 
 "Just so," resumed Rosendo. "Bien, there was nothing for 
 the poor man to do but hasten down the river to Cartagena as 
 fast as possible, for he knew not, what might have befallen his 
 family. He did not dare go back to Simiti then for the box. 
 And so the gold was left in the altar." 
 
 "Hotnbre!" exclaimed Jose. "Now I understand what he 
 meant by that note in his old diary, which we had in my 
 father's house, in Spain! Of course! Arriving in Cartagena 
 he went at once to the Department of Mines and tore out all 
 the pages of the register that contained descriptions of his 
 mineral properties. He intended some day to return to Gua- 
 moco and again locate them. And meantime, he protected him- 
 self by destroying all the registered locations. It was easy for 
 him to do this, influential as he was in Cartagena. And doubt- 
 less at that stormy time the office of the Department of Mines 
 was deserted. This note, Rosendo, I have read in his old diary, 
 many times, but never knew to what it referred." 
 
 "Hombre!" ejaculated Rosendo. "Bueno, the soldiers sacked 
 Simiti and slaughtered all the people they could find. Then 
 they set fire to the town, and left. My parents had fled to 
 Guamoco. 
 
 "But now for the old church and the picture of the Virgin 
 that was lost during the terrible storm when the priest fell 
 dead. We will have to guess that later, when peace had been 
 restored, the priest of the old church in prying around the altar 
 discovered the loose bricks and the box behind them. Bueno, 
 the night of the awful storm he had gone secretly to the church 
 to remove the box. I remember that my father said the priest 
 had arranged for my father to take him down to Bodega Cen- 
 tral the very next day. You see, he was going to flee with the 
 gold, the rogue ! Bien, while he was in the church taking out 
 the loose bricks, that storm broke — and, from what I remember, 
 it was terrible! The heavens were ablaze with lightning; the 
 thunder roared like cannon; and the lake rose right out of its 
 
 207 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 bed! Carambaf The door of the church crashed open, and 
 the wind whistled in and blew out the candles on the altar. 
 The wind also tore loose a beautiful picture of the Virgin that 
 was hanging near the altar. The picture was blown out of its 
 frame and swept off to the hills, or into the lake. It was never 
 seen again, although the frame was found just outside the door. 
 Perhaps it was the extinguishing of the candles and the falling 
 of the picture that frightened the old priest so terribly. At 
 any rate he ran from the church to his house, and when he 
 reached his door he fell dead of apoplexy. 
 
 "Bueno, after that you could never get any of the Simiti 
 people to enter the church again. They closed the doors and 
 left it, just as it was, for they thought the curse of God had 
 fallen upon it because it had been erected by the enemies of 
 the Rinc6n family, whose patron saint was the blessed Virgin 
 herself. Well, the old altar began to crumble, and parts of it 
 fell away from time to time. And when the people heard the 
 bricks falling they said it was the bad angel that the Virgin had 
 locked in there — the angel of Satan that had extinguished the 
 candles on the altar that night of the storm. Caramba! And 
 I believed it, too! I am a fool. Padre, a fool!" 
 
 "We are all fools, Rosendo, when we yield ourselves to 
 superstition and false belief," said Jos6 solemnly. "But you 
 have worked out a very ingenious story, and I doubt not you 
 have come very near to accounting in the right way for the 
 presence of the little box in the altar. But now, amigo, come 
 with me to my house. I would discuss a plan with you. 
 
 "It is this, Rosendo," he said, when they were alone. "We 
 now have gold, and the way has been providientially opened. 
 Carmen is in great danger here. What say you, shall we take 
 her and leave Simiti ?" 
 
 Rosendo's face became grave. He did not reply for some 
 moments. 
 
 "Padre," he said at length, "you are right. It would be 
 best for her if we could get her away. But — ^you would have 
 to leave the country. I see now that neither she nor you would 
 be safe anywhere in Colombia if you left Simiti." 
 
 "True, Rosendo," replied Jos6. "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 Dona Maria at once, for we had best start without 
 delay." 
 
 But Rosendo shook his head. "No, Padre," he said slowly. 
 
 208 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "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 our- 
 selves 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 Simiti. It is not permitted that we should ever 
 leave. This has always been our home, and here we will die." 
 
 Jose exclaimed again in impatience. But the old man was 
 immovable. 
 
 "No, Padre, we could not make so great a change. Any- 
 where in Colombia would be but little different from Simiti. 
 But up north — in that great country where they do those won- 
 derful 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 Jose rudely. In the great joy vjhich 
 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 Simiti, 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. 
 
 "Bien, Rosendo," he concluded in chastened tones. "We 
 will think it over, and try to devise ways to accomplish the 
 greatest good for the child. I shall remain here for the 
 present." 
 
 Rosendo's face beamed with joy. "The way will be shown 
 us some time. Padre!" he exclaimed. "And while we wait, we 
 will keep our eyes open, no?" 
 
 Yes, Jose would keep his eyes open and his heart receptive. 
 
 209 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 After all, as he meditated the situation in the quiet of his little 
 cottage that evening, he was not sorry that circumstances kept 
 him longer in Simiti. For he had long been meditating a plan, 
 and the distraction incident upon a complete change of en- 
 vironment certainly would delay, if not entirely defeat, its 
 consummation. He had planned to translate his Testament 
 anew, in the light of various works on Bible criticism which 
 the explorer had mentioned, and which the possession of the 
 newly discovered gold now made attainable. He had with him 
 his Greek lexicon. ■ He would now, in the freedom from inter- 
 ruption which Simiti could and probably would afford for the 
 ensuing few months, give himself up to his consecrated desire 
 to extract from the sacred writings the spiritual meaning 
 crystallized within them. The vivid experiences which had 
 fallen to him in Simiti had resulted in the evolution of ideas — 
 radically at variance with the world's materialistic thought, it 
 is true — ^which he was learning to look upon as demonstrable 
 truths. The Bible had slowly taken on a new meaning to him, 
 a meaning far different from that set forth in the clumsy, awk- 
 ward phrases and expressions into which the translators so 
 frequently poured the wine of the spirit, and which, literally 
 interpreted, have resulted in such violent controversies, such 
 puerile ideas of God and His thought toward man, and such 
 religious hatred and bigotry, bloodshed, suffering, and mate- 
 rial stagnation throughout the so-called Christian era. He 
 would approach the Gospels, not as books of almost unde- 
 cipherable mystery, not as the biography of the blessed Virgin, 
 but as containing the highest human interpretation of truth and 
 its relation to mankind. 
 
 "I seek knowledge," he repeated aloud, as he paced back 
 and forth through his little living room at night; "but it is not 
 a knowledge of Goethe, of Kant, or Shakespeare; it is not a 
 knowledge of the poets, the scientists, the philosophers, all 
 whom the world holds greatest in the realm of thought; it is a 
 knowledge of Thee, my God, to know whom is life eternal ! Men 
 think they can know Homer, Plato, Confucius — and so they 
 can. But they think they can not know Thee ! And yet Thou 
 art nearer to us than the air we breathe, for Thou art Life! 
 What is there out in the world among the multifold interests of 
 mankind that can equal in importance a demonstrable knowl- 
 edge of Thee? Not the unproven theories and opinions, the so- 
 called 'authority' of the ancient Fathers, good men though they 
 may have been; not modern pseudo-science, half-truths and 
 relative facts, saturated with materialism and founded on spec- 
 ulation and hypothesis; but real knowledge, a knowledge of 
 Thee that is as demonstrable as the simplest rule in mathe- 
 
 210 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 matics ! Alas ! that men should be so mesmerized by their own 
 beliefs as to say Thou canst not be known. Alas! for the bur- 
 den which such thinkers as Spencer have laid upon the shoul- 
 ders of stumbling mankind. For God can be known, and 
 proven — else is Jesus responsible for the most cruel lie ever 
 perpetrated upon the ignorant, suffering world!" 
 
 And so, putting aside a portion of his gold — his by right of 
 inheritance as well as discovery — for the future purchase of 
 such books and aids as he might require, Jose set his house 
 in order and then plunged into such a search of the Scriptures 
 as rendered him oblivious to all but the immediate interests of 
 Carmen and her foster-parents. The great world again nar- 
 rowed into the rock-bound confines of little Simiti. Each 
 rushing morn that shot its flery glow through the lofty treetops 
 sank quickly into the hush of noon, while the dust lay thick, 
 white, and hot on the slumbering streets of the ancient town; 
 each setting sun burned with dreamy radiance through the 
 afternoon haze that drew its filmy veil across the seething 
 valley ; each night died into a* stillness, lonely and awful. Na- 
 ture changed her garb with monotonous regularity; the drows- 
 ing children of this tropic region passed their days in dull tor- 
 pidity; Jose saw nothing of it all. At times a villager would 
 bring a tale of grievance to pour into his ears — perhaps a jaguar 
 had pounced upon his dog on his little finca across the lake, or 
 a huge snake had lured a suckling pig into its cavernous maw. 
 At times a credulous woman would stop before his open door 
 to dilate upon the thick worms that hung upon the leaves of 
 the algarrobas and dropped their wool-like fibers upon the 
 natives as they passed below, causing intermittent fevers. Per- 
 haps an anxious mother would seek him for advice regarding 
 her little son, who had eaten too much dirt, and was suffering 
 from the common "jipitera," that made his poor little abdomen 
 protrude so uncomfortably. Again, Rosendo might steal in for 
 a few moments' mysterious, whispered talk about buried treas- 
 ure, or the fables of El Dorado and Parime. Jose had time for 
 them all, though as he listened his thought hovered ever about 
 the green verge of Galilee. 
 
 By his side worked Carmen, delving assiduously into the 
 mysteries of mathematics and the modern languages. When 
 the day's work closed for them both, he often asked her to sing 
 to him. And then, leaning back with closed eyes, he would 
 yield himself to the soft dreams which her sweet voice called 
 up from his soul's unfathomed depths. Often they walked 
 together by the lake on a clear night; and on these little ex- 
 cursions, during which they were never beyond Rosendo's 
 watchful eye, Jos^ reveled in the girl's airy gaiety and the 
 
 211 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 spontaneous flow of her sparkling thought. He called her his 
 domestic sunbeam; but in his serious moments — and they 
 were many — he studied her with a wistful earnestness, white 
 he sought to imbibe her great trust, her fearlessness, her un- 
 swerving loyalty to the Christ-principle of immanent Good. 
 He would never permit restraint to be imposed upon her, even 
 by Rosendo or his good wife. She knew not what it was to be 
 checked in the freest manifestation of her natural character. 
 But there was little occasion for restraint, for Carmen dwelt ever 
 in the consciousness of a spiritual universe, and to it paid 
 faithful tribute. She saw and knew only from a spiritual basis ; 
 and she reaped the rewards incident thereto. His life and hers 
 were such as fools might label madness, a colorless, vegetative 
 existence, devoid of even the elemental things that make mun- 
 dane existence worth the while. But the appraisal of fools is 
 their own folly. Jose knew that the torrid days which drew their 
 monotonous length over the little town were witnessing a de- 
 velopment in both himself and the child that some day would 
 bear richest fruit. So far from being educated to distrust 
 spiritual power, as are the children of this world. Carmen was 
 growing up to know no other. Instead of the preponderance of 
 her belief and confidence being directed to the material, she 
 was developing the consciousness that the so-called evidence of 
 the physical senses is but mortal thought, the suppositional op- 
 posite of the thought of the infinite God who says to mankind : 
 "For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, thoughts of 
 peace and not of evil, to give you an expected end." Jose knew 
 that his method of education was revolutionary. But he also 
 knew that it was not wholly his; that the child had really taken 
 this course herself, as if led thereto by a power beyond them 
 both. 
 
 And so he watched her, and sought to learn from her as 
 from Christ's own loving and obedient disciple. It was because 
 of his obedience to God that Jesus was able to "prove" Him in 
 the mighty works which we call miracles. • He said, "If any man 
 will do His will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be 
 of God." Plain enough, indeed! And Carmen did do His will; 
 she kept the very first Commandment; she walked by faith, 
 and not by the sight of the human senses. She had been called 
 an "hada," a witch, by the dull-witted folk of Simiti; and some 
 day it would be told that she had a devil. But the Master had 
 borne the same ignominy. And so has every pioneer in Truth, 
 who has dared to lay the axe at the roots of undemonstrable 
 orthodox belief and entrenched human error. 
 
 Jose often trembled for the child when he thought of the 
 probable reception that awaited her in the world without, in 
 
 212 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 case she ever left Simiti. Would her supreme confidence in 
 good ever be weakened by an opposite belief in evil? Would 
 her glorious faith ever be neutralized or counterbalanced by 
 faith in a power opposed to God? He wondered. And some- 
 times in the fits of abstraction resulting frOm these thoughts, 
 the girl would steal up to him and softly whisper, "Why,; Padre, 
 are you trying to make two and two equal seven?" Then he 
 would laugh with her, and remember how from her, algebraic 
 work she had looked up one day and exclaimed, "Padre — why, 
 all evil can be reduced to a common denominator, too — and it 
 is zero!" 
 
 As recreation from the task of retranslating his Greek Testa- 
 ment, Jose often read to Carmen portions from the various 
 books of the Bible, or told her the old sacred stories that chil- 
 dren so love to hear. But Carmen's incisive thought cut deep 
 into them, and Jos6 generally found himself hanging upon the 
 naive interpretations of this young girl. When, after reading 
 aloud the two opposing accounts of the Creation, as given in the 
 first and second chapters of Genesis, she asked, "But, Padre, 
 why did God change His mind after He made people and gave 
 them dominion over everything?" Jose was Obliged to say that 
 God had not made a mistake, and then gone back afterward to 
 rectify it ; that the account of the Creation, as given in Genesis, 
 was not His, but was a record of the dawning upon the human 
 thought of the idea of the spiritual Creation; that the "mist" 
 which went up from the earth was suppositional error; and 
 that the record of the Creation which follows after this was 
 only the human mind's interpretation of the real, spiritual 
 Creation, that Creation which is thfe ever unfolding of infinite 
 Mind's numberless, perfect ideas. The book of Genesis has 
 been a fetish to human minds ; and not until the limitations im- 
 posed by its literal interpretation were in a measure removed 
 did the human mentality begin to rise and expand.' And when, 
 reading from Isaiah, the grandest of the ancient prophets, the 
 ringing words, "Cease ye from man, whose breath is in his 
 nostrils: for wherein is he to be accounted of?" the child asked 
 him if that did not refer to the very kind of people with whom 
 they had daily intercourse, he had been obliged to say that it 
 did, and that that sort of man was far, very far, from being the 
 man of God's own creating. 
 
 "The mist, child, which is mentioned in the second chapter 
 of Genesis, is said to have gone up from the ground. That is, 
 it went up from matter. And so it is typical of materialism, 
 from which all evil comes. The material is the direct op- 
 posite of the spiritual. Every bit of evil that men think they 
 can see, or know, or do, comes as testimony of the five material 
 
 213 
 
CARMEN ARrZA 
 
 senses. These might well be called the 'ground' senses. In the 
 book of Genesis, you will notice that the account of the real 
 comes first; then follows the account of its opposite, the unreal 
 man of dust." 
 
 "Surely, Padre!" she exclaimed. "The plus sign is followed 
 by a minus sign, isn't it? And the man made of dust is the 
 real man with a minus sign before him." 
 
 "The man of dust is the human mind's interpretation of the 
 spiritual man, dear child," returned Jose. "All human beings 
 are interpretations by the mortal, or human, mind of infinite 
 Mind, God, and His spiritual Creation. The interpretation is 
 made in the human mind, and remains there. The human mind 
 does not see these interpretations outside of itself — it does not 
 see real men, and houses, and trees, outside of itself — ^but it sees 
 its mental interpretations of God, which it calls men, and 
 houses, and trees, and so on. These things are what we might 
 call mental concepts. They are the man and the creation 
 spoken of in the second chapter of Genesis after the mist went 
 up from matter, from the ground, from materialism, resulting 
 in the testimony of the physical senses." 
 
 "But, Padre, they are not real-rthese mental concepts?" 
 
 "No. They are illusions. They are formed in mentalities 
 that are themselves wrong interpretations of the infinite Men- 
 tality, called God. They are formed without any rule or prin- 
 ciple. They are made up of false thoughts, false opinions, be- 
 liefs of power opposed to God, beliefs in evil, in sickness, dis- 
 aster, loss, and death. They are the results of educated and in- 
 herited and attached beliefs. They are largely made up of fear- 
 beliefs. The human mentalities see these various beliefs com- 
 bined in what it calls men and women, houses, animals, trees, 
 and so on, all through the material so-called creation. It is this 
 wrong interpretation that has caused all the suffering and 
 sorrow in the world. And it is this false stuff that the good 
 man Jesus finally said he had overcome." 
 
 "How did he do it. Padre?" 
 
 "By knowing its nothingness, and by knowing the AUness 
 of his Father, infinite Mind. He called this false stuff a lie 
 about God. And he overcame that lie by knowing the truth — 
 just as you overcome the thought that you cannot solve your 
 algebraic problems by knowing the truth that will and does 
 solve them." 
 
 "But, Padre, you said once that Jesus was the best man 
 that ever lived. Was he just a man?" 
 
 "Yes, chiquHa. That is, the human minds all about him 
 saw their mental concepts of him as a man. But he was a 
 human concept that most clearly represented God's idea of 
 
 214 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Himself. Mortal, human minds are like window-panes, chi- 
 quita. When a window-pane is very dirty, very much covered 
 with matter, only a little light can get through it. Some 
 human minds are cleaner, less material, than others, and they 
 let more light through. Jesus was the cleanest mind that was 
 ever with us. He kept letting more and more light — Truth — 
 through himself, until at last all the matter, even the matter 
 composing the material concept that people called his earthly 
 body, dissolved in the strong light, and the people saw him no 
 more. That is called the Ascension." 
 
 "And — Padre, don't we have to do that way, too?" she asked 
 earnestly. 
 
 "Just so, chiquita. We must, every one of us, do exactly 
 as Jesus did. We must wash ourselves clean — wash off the 
 dirty beliefs of power apart from (Sod; we must wash off the 
 beliefs of evil as a power, created in opposition to Him, or per- 
 mitted by Him to exist and to use His children; we must wash 
 off beliefs of matter as real and created by Him. We must 
 know that matter and all evil, all that decays and passes away, 
 all discord and disease, everything that comes as testimony of 
 the five physical senses, is but a part of the lie about Him, the 
 stuff that has the minus sign before it, making it less than 
 nothing. We must know that it is the suppositional opposite 
 of the real — it is an illusion, seeming to exist, yet evaporating 
 when we try to define it or put a finger on it, for it has no rule 
 or principle by which it was created and by which it continues 
 to exist. Its existence is only in human thought." 
 
 No, Jose assured himself, the Gospels are not "loose, exag- 
 gerated, inaccurate, credulous narratives." They are the story 
 of the clearest transparency to truth that was ever known to 
 mortals as a human being. They preserve the life-giving words 
 of him whose mission it was to show mankind the way out of 
 error by giving them truth. They contain the rule given by the 
 great Mathematician, who taught mankind how to solve their 
 life-problems. They tell the world plainly that there seems to 
 exist a lie about God; that every real idea of the infinite Mind 
 seems to have its suppositional opposite in a material illusion. 
 They tell us plainly that resisting these illusions with truth 
 renders them nugatory. They tell us clearly that the man 
 Jesus was so filled with truth that he proved the nothingness 
 of the lie about God by doing those deeds that seemed mar- 
 velous in the eyes of men, and yet which he said we could and 
 should do ourselves. And we must do them, if we would throw 
 off the mesmerism of the lie. The human concept of man and 
 the universe must dissolve in the light of the truth that comes 
 through us as transparencies. And it were well if we set about 
 
 215 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 washing away the dirt of materialism, that the light may shine 
 through more abundantly. 
 
 Jesus did not say that his great deeds were accomplished 
 contrary to law, but that they fulfilled the law of God. The 
 law is spiritual, never material. Material law is but human 
 limitation. Ignorance of spiritual law permits the belief in 
 its opposite, material law, or laws of matter. False, human 
 beliefs, opinions, and theories, material speculations and super- 
 stitions, parade before the huriian mind as laws. Jesus swept 
 them all aside by knowing that their supposed power lay only , 
 in human acceptance. The human mind is mesmerized by its 
 own false thought. Even Paul at times felt its mesmerism 
 and exclaimed: "I find then a law, that, when I would do 
 good, evil is present with me." The very idea of good stirs up 
 its opposite in the human consciousness. But Paul rose above 
 it and saw its nothingness. Then he cried: "The law of the 
 Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law 
 of sin and death." He recognized ' the spiritual law that Jesus 
 employed; and with it he overcame the mesmerism of the lie. 
 
 "To be a Christian, then," said Jos6, "means not merely 
 taking the name of Christ, and, while morally opposing sin, 
 succumbing to every form of mesmerism that the lie about 
 God exerts. No, it is infinitely more ! It means recognizing the 
 nature of God and His Creation, including Man, to be wholly 
 spiritual — and the nature of the material creation and mankind 
 as their opposite, as mental concepts, existing as false interpre- 
 tations of the spiritual Universe and Man, and as having their 
 place only in tlie false human consciousness, which itself is a 
 mental activity concerned only with false thought, the sup- 
 positional opposite of God's thought. It means taking this 
 Truth, this spiritual law, as we would take a mathematical rule 
 or principle, and with it overcoming sin, sickness, discord of 
 every name arid nature, even to death itself. What, oh, what 
 have so-called Christians been doing these nearly two thousand 
 years, that they have not ere this worked out their salvation as 
 Jesus directed them to do? Alas! they have been mesmerized — 
 simply mesmerized by the lie. The millennium should have 
 come long, long ago. It would come to-day if the world would 
 obey Jesus. But it will not come until it does obey him." 
 
 Day after day, week after week, month after month, Jose 
 delved and toiled, studied and pondered. The books which he 
 ordered through the Empresa Alemania, and for which for 
 some two months he waited in trembling anticipation and fear 
 lest they be lost in transit, finally arrived. When Juan brought 
 them up from Bodega Central, Jos6 could have wept for joy. 
 Except for the very few letters he had received at rare inter- 
 
 216 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 vals, these were the only messages that had penetrated the 
 isolation of Simiti from the outside world in the two long years 
 of his exile. His starving mind ravenously devoured them. 
 They afforded his first introduction to that fearlessly critical 
 thought regarding things religious which has swept across the 
 world like a tidal wave, and washed away so many of the bul- 
 warks of superstition and ignorance bred of fear of the un- 
 known and supposedly unknowable. 
 
 And yet they were not really his first introduction to that 
 thought, for, as he: pored over these books, his heart expanded 
 with gratitude to the brusque explorer whom he had met in 
 Cartagena, that genial, odd medley of blunt honesty, unquib- 
 bling candor, and hatred of dissimulation, whose ridicule of 
 the religious fetishism of the human mentality tore up the 
 last root of educated orthodox belief that remained struggling 
 for life in the altered soil of his mind. 
 
 But, though they tore down with ruthless hand, these books 
 did not reconstruct. Jose turned from them with something of 
 disappointment. He could understand why the trembling heart, 
 searching wearily for truth, turned always from such as they 
 with sinking hope. They. were violently iconoclastic — they up' 
 rooted— they overthrew — they swept aside with unsparing hand 
 — but they robbed the starving mortal of his once cherished 
 beliefs — they snatched the stale and feebly nourishing bread 
 from his mouth, and gave nothing in return. They emptied his 
 heart, and left it starving. What did it boot to tell a man that 
 the orthodox dream of eternal bliss beyond the gates of death 
 was but a hoax, if no substitute be offered? Why point out the 
 fallacies, the puerile conceptions* the worse than childish 
 thought expressed in the religious creeds of men, if they were 
 not to be replaced by life-sustaining truth? If the demolition of 
 cherished beliefs be not followed by reconstruction upon a sure 
 foundation of demonstrable truth, then is the resulting state of 
 mind worse than before, for the trusting, though deceived, soul 
 has no recourse but to fall into the agnosticism of despair, or 
 the black atheism of positive negation. 
 
 "Happily for me," he sighed, as he closed his books at length, 
 "that Carmen entered my empty life in time with the truth that 
 she hourly demonstrates!" 
 
 217 
 
 24 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 24 
 
 DAYS melted into weeks, and these in turn into months. 
 Simiti, drab and shabby, a crumbling and abandoned 
 relique of ancient Spanish pride and arrogance, drowsed 
 undisturbed in the ardent embrace of the tropical sun. Don 
 Jorge returned, unsuccessful, from his long quest in the San 
 Lucas mountains, and departed again down the Magdalena 
 river. 
 
 "It is a marvelous country up there," he told Jose. "I do not 
 wonder that it has given rise to legends. I felt myself in a 
 land of enchantment while I was roaming those quiet moun- 
 tains. When, after days of steady traveling, I would chance 
 upon a little group of natives hidden away in some dense 
 tiiicket, it seemed to me that they must be fairies, not real. 
 I came upon the old trail, Padre, the Camino Real, now 
 sunken and overgrown, which the Spaniards used. They 
 called it the PanamA trail. It used to lead down to Carta- 
 gena. Hombre! in places it is now twenty feet deep!" 
 
 "But, gold, Don Jorge?" 
 
 "Ah, Padre, what quartz veins I saw in that country! 
 Hombre I Gold will be discovered there without measure some 
 day! But — Caramba! This map which Don Carlos gave me is 
 much in error. I must consult again with him. Then I 
 shall return to Simiti." Jose regretfully saw him depart, for 
 he had grown to love this ruggedly honest soul. 
 
 Meantime, Don Mario sulked in his house; nor during the 
 intervening _year would he hold anything more than the most 
 formal intercourse with the priest. Jose ignored him as far 
 as possible. Events move with terrible deliberation in these 
 tropic lands, and men's minds are heavy and lethargic. Jose 
 assumed that Don Mario had failed in ihe support upon which 
 he had counted; or else Diego's interest in Carmen was dor- 
 mant, perhaps utterly passed. Each succeeding day of quiet 
 increased his confidence, while he rounded out month after 
 month in this sequestered vale on the far confines of civiliza- 
 tion, and the girl attained her twelfth year. Moreover, as he 
 noted with marveling, often incredulous, mental gaze her 
 swift, unhindered progress, the rapid unfolding of her rich na- 
 ture, and the increasing development of a spirituality which 
 seemed to raise her daily farther above the plane on which he 
 dwelt, he began to regard the uninterrupted culmination of his 
 plans for her as reasonably assured, if not altogether certain. 
 Juan continued his frequent trips down to Bodega Central 
 
 218 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 as general messenger and transportation agent for his fellow- 
 townsmen, meanwhile adoring Carmen from a distance of 
 respectful decorum. Rosendo and Lazaro, relaxing somewhat 
 their vigilance over the girl, labored daily on the little hacienda 
 across the lake. The dull-witted folk, keeping to their dis- 
 mally pretentious mud houses during the pulsing heat of day, 
 and singing their weird, moaning laments in the quiet which 
 reigned over this maculate hollow at night, followed un- 
 deviatingly the monotonous routine of an existence which had 
 no other aim than the indulgence of the most primitive mate- 
 rial wants. 
 
 "Ah, Padre," Rosendo would say of them, "they are so 
 easy ! They love idleness ; they like not labor. They fish, they 
 play the guitar, they gather fruits. They sing and dance — 
 and then die. Padre, it is sad, is it not?" 
 
 Aye, thought the priest, doubly sad in its mute answer to 
 the heartlessly selfish query of Cain. No one, not even the 
 Church, was the keeper of these benighted brothers. He alone 
 had constituted himself their shepherd. And as they learned 
 to love him, to confide their simple wants and childish hopes 
 to him, he came to realize the immense ascendency which the 
 priests of Colombia possess over the simple understanding of 
 the people. An ascendency hereditary and dominant, capable 
 of utmost good, but expressed in the fettering of initiative 
 and action, in the suppression of ambition, and the quenching 
 of every impulse toward independence of thought. How he 
 longed to lift them up from the drag of their mental encom- 
 passment ! Yet how helpless he was to afford them the needed 
 lustration of soul which alone could accomplish it! 
 
 "1 can do little more than try to set them a standard of 
 thought," he would muse, as he looked out from the altar over 
 the camellia-like faces of his adult children when he con- 
 ducted his simple Sunday services. "I can only strive to 
 point out the better things of this life — to tell them of the 
 wonders of invention, of art, of civilization — 1 can only relate 
 to them tales of romance and achievement, and beautiful 
 stories — and try to omit in the recital all reference to the evil 
 methods, aim-s, and motives which have manifested in those 
 dark crimes staining the records of history. The world calls 
 them historical incident and fact. I must call them 'the mist 
 that went up from the ground and watered the face of the 
 earth.' " 
 
 But Jose had progressed during his years in Simiti. It had 
 been hard — only he could know how hard! — to adapt himself 
 to the narrow environment in which he dwelt. It had been 
 bard to conform to these odd ways and strange usages. But 
 
 219 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 he now knew that the people's reserve and shyness at first was 
 due to their natural suspicion of him. For days, even weeks, 
 he had known that he was being weighed and watched. And 
 then love triumphed. 
 
 It is true, the dull staring of the natives of this unkempt 
 town had long continued to throw him into fits of prolonged 
 nervousness. They had not meant to offend, of course. Their 
 curiosity was far from malicious. But at hardly any hour of 
 the day or night could he look up from his work without see- 
 ing dark, inquisitive faces peering in through the latticed 
 window or the open door at him, watchful of the. minutest 
 detail of his activity. He had now grown used to that. And 
 he had grown used to their thoughtless intrusion upon him 
 at any hour. He had learned, too, not to pale with nausea 
 when, as was their wont of many centuries, the dwellers in 
 this uncouth town relentlessly pursued their custom of ex- 
 pectorating upon his floor immediately they entered and stood 
 before him. He had accustomed himself to the hourly intru- 
 sion of the scavenger pigs and starving dogs in his house. 
 And he could now endure without aching nerves the awful 
 singing, the maudlin wails, the thin, piercing, falsetto howls 
 which rose almost nightly about. him in the sacred name of 
 music. For these were children with whom he dwelt. And 
 he was trying to show them that they were children of God. 
 
 The girl's education was progressing marvelously. Al- 
 ready Jose had been obliged to supplement his oral instruc- 
 tion with texts purchased for her from abroad. Her grasp of 
 the English language was his daily wond«r. After two years 
 of study she spoke it readily. She loved it, and insisted that 
 her conversations with him should be conducted wholly in it. 
 French and German likewise had been taken up; and her 
 knowledge of her own Castilian tongue had been enriched by 
 the few books which he had been able to secure for her from 
 Spain. 
 
 Jose's anomalous position in Simiti had ceased to cause 
 him worry. What mattered it* now that he had endeared him- 
 self to its people, and was progressing undisturbed in the train- 
 ing of Carmen? He performed his religious duties faithfully. 
 His people wanted them. And he, in turn, knew that upon his 
 observance of them depended his tenure of the parish. 
 
 And he wanted to remain among them, to lead them, if. 
 possible, at least a little way along what he was daily seeing 
 to be the only path out of the corroding beliefs of the human 
 mind. He knew that his people's gi-owth would be slow — how 
 slow might not his own be, too! Who could say how un- 
 utterably slow would be their united march heavenward! And 
 
 220 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 yet, the human mind was expanding with wonderful rapidity 
 in these last days. What acceleration had it not acquired since 
 that distant era of the Old Stone Man, when through a hundred 
 thousand years of darkness the only observable progress was a 
 little greater skill in the shaping of his crude flint weapons! 
 
 To Padre Diego's one or two subsequent curt demands that 
 Carmen be sent to him, Jose had given no heed. And perhaps 
 Diego, absorbed in his political activities as the confidential 
 agent of Wenceslas, would have been content to let his claim 
 upon the child lapse, after many months of quiet, had not 
 Don Jorge inadvertently set the current of the man's thought 
 again in her direction. 
 
 For Don Jorge was making frequent trips along the Magda- 
 lena river. It was essential to his business to visit the various 
 riverine towns and to mingle freely with all grades of people, 
 that he might run down rumors or draw from the inhabitants 
 information which might result in valuable clues anent buried 
 treasure. Returning one day to Simiti from such a trip, he 
 regaled Jos6 with the spirited recital of his experience on a 
 steamboat which had become stranded on a river bar. 
 
 "Bien," he concluded, "the old tub at last broke loose. 
 Then we saw that its engines were out of commission; and so 
 the captain let her drift down to Banco, where we docked. I 
 was forced, not altogether against my will, to put up with 
 Padre Diego. Caramba! The old fox! But I had much 
 amusement at his expense when I twitted him about his 
 daughter Carmen, and his silly efforts to get possession of her!" 
 
 Jose shook with indignation. "Good heaven, friend!" he 
 cried, "why can you not let sleeping dogs alone? Diego is not 
 the man to be bearded like that! Would that you had kept 
 away from the subject! And what did you say to him about 
 the girl?" 
 
 "Caramba, man! I only told him how beautiful she was, 
 and how large for her few years. Bien, I think I said she was 
 the most beautiful and well-formed girl I had ever seen. But 
 was there anything wrong in telling the truth, amigo?" 
 
 "No," replied Jose bitterly, as he turned away; "you meant 
 no harm. But, knowing the man's brutal nature, and his as- 
 sumed claim on the girl, why could ypu not have foreseen 
 possible misfortune to her in dwelling thus on her physical 
 beauty? Hombre, it is too bad!" 
 
 "Na, amigo," said Don Jorge soothingly, "nothing can come 
 of it. Bien, yoO take things so hard!" But when Don Jorge 
 again set out for the mountains he left the priest's heart filled 
 with apprehension. 
 
 A few weeks later came what Jos6 had been awaiting, an- 
 
 221 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 other demaiul upon him for the girl. Failure to comply with 
 it, said Diego's letter, meant the placing of the case in the 
 hands of the civil and ecclesiastical authorities for action. 
 
 Rosendo's face grew hard when he read the note. "There is 
 a way. Padre. Let my woman take the girl and go up the 
 Boque river to Rosa Maria, the clearing of Don Nicolas. It is 
 a wild region, where tapirs and deer roam, and where hardly 
 a man has set foot for centuries. The people of Boque will 
 keep our secret, and she can remain hidden there until — " 
 
 "No, Rosendo, that will not do," replied Jose, shaking his 
 head in perplexity. "The girl is developing rapidly, and such 
 a course would result in a mental check that might spell in- 
 finite harm. She and Doiia Maria would die to live by them- 
 selves up there in that lonely region. What about her studies? 
 And — what would I do?" 
 
 "Then do you go too. Padre," suggested Rosendo. 
 
 "No, amigo, tor that would cause search to be instituted by 
 the Bishop, and we certainly would be discovered. But, to take 
 her and flee the country — and the Church^how can I yet? 
 No, it is impossible!" He shook his head dolefully, while his 
 thoughts flew back to Seville and the proud mother there. 
 
 "Bien, Padre, let us increase our contributions to Don 
 Wenceslas. Let us send him from now on not less than one 
 hundred pesos oro each month. Will not that keep him quiet, 
 no matter what Diego says?" 
 
 "Possibly," assented Jose. "At any rate, we will try it." 
 They still had some three thousand pesos gold left. 
 
 ♦ ♦♦♦♦» 
 
 "Padre," said Rosendo, some days later, as they sat together 
 in the parish house, "what do you think Diego wants of the 
 girl?" 
 
 Jose hesitated. "I think, Rosendo — " he began. But could 
 even a human mind touch such depths of depravity? And yet 
 — "I think," he continued slowly, "that Diego, having seen her, 
 and now speculating on her future beauty of face and form— I 
 think he means to place her in a convent, with the view of 
 holding her as a ready substitute for the woman who now lives 
 with, him — " 
 
 "Dios! And that is my own daughter!" cried Rosendo, 
 springing up. 
 
 "Yes — true, Rosendo. And., if I mistake not, Diego also 
 would like to repay the score he has against you, for driving 
 him from Simiti and holding the threat of death over him these 
 many years. He can most readily do this by getting Carmen 
 away from you — as he did the other daughter, is it not so?" 
 
 Rosendo came and stood before the priest. His face was 
 
 222 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 strained with fearful anxiety. "Padre," he said in a low voice, 
 "I shall end this matter at once. I go to Banco to-morrow to 
 kill Diego." 
 
 "You shall do nothing of the kind!" cried Jose, seizing his 
 hand. "Why — Rosendo, it would mean your own death, or 
 lifelong imprisonment!" 
 
 "And what of that, Padre?" said the old man with awful 
 calmness. "I have nothing that is not hers, even to my life. 
 Gladly would I give it for her. Let me die, or spend my re- 
 maining days in the prison, if that will save her. Such a price 
 for her safety would be low." 
 
 While he was speaking, Fernando, the town constable, en- 
 tered. He saluted the men gravely, and drew from his pocket 
 a document to which was attached the Alcalde's official seal. 
 
 "Senores," he said with much dignity, as if the majesty of 
 his little office weighed upon him, "I am commanded by Seiaor, 
 the Alcalde, to exercise the authority reposing in him and place 
 Don Rosendo Ariza under arrest. You will at once accompany 
 me to the cdrcel," he added, going up to the astonished Rosendo 
 and laying a hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 "Arrest! Me! Hombre! what have I done?" cried the old 
 man, stepping back. 
 
 "Bien, amigo, I do not find it my duty to tell you. The 
 Serior Alcalde hands me the document and commands me to 
 execute it. As for the cause — Bien, you must ask him." 
 
 "Come," said Jose, the first to recover from his astonishment, 
 "let us go to him at once." He at any rate had now an opportu- 
 nity to confront Don Mario and learn what plans the man had 
 been devising these many months. 
 
 The Alcalde received the men in his little patio, scowling 
 and menacing. He offered them no greeting when they con- 
 fronted him. 
 
 "Don Mario," asked Jos6 in a trembling voice, "why have 
 you put this indignity upon our friend, Rosendo? Who orders 
 his arrest?" 
 
 "Ask, rather, Senor Padre," replied the Alcalde, full of 
 wrath, "what alone saves you from the same indignity. 
 Only that you are a priest, Sefior Padre, nada mas! His ar- 
 rest is ordered by Padre Diego." 
 
 "And why, if I may beg the favor?" pursued Jose, though 
 he well knew the sordid motive. 
 
 "Why? Caramba! Why lay the hands of the law upon 
 those who deprive a suffering father of his child ! Bien, 
 Fernando," turning to the constable, "you have done well. 
 Take your prisoner to the cdrcel." 
 
 "No!" cried Rosendo, drawing back. "No, Don Mario, I 
 will not go to the jail! I will^" 
 
 223 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Carambat" shouted the Alcalde, his face purple. "I. set 
 your trial for to-morrow, in the early morning. But this 
 night you will spend in the jail! H ombre! I will see if I am 
 not Alcalde here! And look you, Senor Padre, if there is any 
 disturbance, I will send for the government soldiers! Then 
 they will take Rosendo to the prison in Cartagena ! And that 
 finishes him!" 
 
 Jose knew that, if Diego had the support of the Bishop, 
 this was no idle threat. Rosendo turned to him in helpless 
 appeal. "What shall I do. Padre?" he asked. 
 
 • "It is best that you go -to the jail to-night, Rosendo," said 
 Jose with sinking heart. "But, Don Mario," turning menac- 
 ingly to the Alcalde, "mark you, his trial takes place in the 
 morning, and he shall be judged, not by you alone, but by his 
 fellow-townsmen ! " 
 
 "Have I not said so, seiior?" returned Don Mario curtly, 
 with a note of deep contempt in his voice. 
 
 As in most small Spanish towns, the jail was a rude adobe 
 hut, with no furnishings, save the wooden stocks into which 
 the feet of the hapless prisoners were secured. Thus con- 
 fined, the luckless wight who chanced to feel the law's heavy 
 hand might sit in a torturing position for days, cruelly tor- 
 mented at night by ravenous mosquitoes, and wholly de- 
 pendent upon the charity of the townsfolk for his daily rations, 
 unless he have friends or family to supply his needs. In the 
 present instance Don Mario took the extra precaution of 
 setting a guard over his important prisoner. 
 
 Jose, benumbed by the shock and bewildered by the sudden 
 precipitation of events, accompanied Rosendo to the jail and 
 mutely watched the procedure as Fernando secured the old 
 man's bare feet in the rude stocks. And yet, despite the situa- 
 tion, he could not repress a sense of the ridiculous, as his 
 thought dwelt momentarily on the little opira bouffe which 
 these child-like people were so continually enacting in their 
 attempts at self-government. But it was a play that at times 
 approached dangerously near to the tragic. The passions of 
 this Latin offshoot were strong, if their minds were dull and 
 lethargic, and when aroused were capable of the ,most des- 
 picable, as well as the most grandly heroic deeds. And in 
 the present instance, when the fleeting sense of the absurd 
 passed, Jose knew that he was facing a crisis. Something 
 told him that resistance rtow would be useless. True, Ro- 
 sendo might have opposed arrest with violence, and perhaps 
 have escaped. But that would have accomplished nothing for 
 Carmen, the pivot upon which events were turning. Jos6 had 
 reasoned that it were better to let the Alcalde play his hand 
 
 224 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 first, in the small hope that as the cards fell he might more 
 than match his opponent's strength with his own. 
 
 "Na, Padre, do not worry," said Rosendo reassuringly. "It 
 is for her sake; and we shall have to know, as she does, that 
 everything will come out right. My friends will set me free 
 to-morrow, when the trial takes place. And then" — he drew 
 the priest down to him and whispered low-^-'Ve will leave 
 Simiti and take to the mountains." 
 
 Jose bent his heavy steps homeward. Arriving at Ro' 
 sendo's house, he saw the little living room crowded with 
 sympathetic friends who had come to condole with Doria 
 Maria. That placid woman, however, had not lost in any de- 
 gree her wonted calm, even though her companions held forth 
 with much impassioned declamation against the indignity 
 which had been heaped upon her worthy consort. He looked 
 about for Carmen. She was not with her foster-mother, nor 
 did his inquiry reveal her whereabouts. He smiled sadly, as 
 he thought of her out on the shales, her customary refuge 
 when storms broke. He started in search of her; but as he 
 passed through the plaza Manuela Cortez met' him. "Padre," 
 she exclaimed, "is the little Carmen to go to jaili too?" 
 
 Jose stopped short. "Manuela — why do you say that?" 
 he asked hurriedly, his heart starting to beat like a trip- 
 hammer. 
 
 "Because, Padre, I saw the constable, Fernando, talie her 
 into Don Mario's house some time ago." 
 
 Jose uttered an exclamation and started for the house of 
 the Alcalde. Don Mario stood at the door, his huge bulk 
 denying the priest admission. 
 
 . "Don Mario!" panted Jos^. "Carmen — ^you have her 
 here?" 
 
 Fernando, who had been sitting just within the door, rose 
 and came to his chief's side. Jose felt his • brain whirling. 
 Fernando stepped outside and took his arm. The Alcalde's 
 unlovely face expanded in a sinister leer. "It is permissible 
 to place even a priest in the stocks if he becomes loco," he 
 said significantly. 
 
 Jose tightened his grip upon himself. Fernando spoke 
 quickly: 
 
 "It was necessary to take the girl in custody, too. Padre. 
 But do not worry; she is safe." 
 
 "But — ^you have no right to take her — " 
 
 "There, Senor Padre, calm yourself. What right had you 
 to separate her from her father?" 
 
 "Diego is not her father! He lies! And, Don Mario, you 
 have no authority but his — " 
 
 225 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "You mistake, Senor Padre," calmly interrupted the Al- 
 calde. "I have a much higher authority." 
 
 Jose stared dully at him. "Whose, then?" he muttered, 
 scarce hearing his own words. 
 
 "The Bishop's, Senor Padre," answered Don Mario, with a 
 cruel grin. 
 
 "The Bishop! But— the old man—" 
 
 "Na, Senor Padre, but the Bishop is fairly young, you know. 
 That is, the new one — " 
 
 "The new one!" cried the uncomprehending Jose. 
 
 "To be sure, Senor Padre, the new Bishop — formerly Seiior 
 Don Wenceslas Ortiz." 
 
 Jose beat the air feebly as his hand sought his damp brow. 
 His confused brain became suddenly stagnant. 
 
 "Bien, Senor Padre," put in Fernando gently, pitying the 
 priest's agony. "You had not heard the news. Don Mario 
 received letters to-day. The old Bishop of Cartagena died 
 suddenly some days ago, and Don Wenceslas at once received 
 the temporary appointment, until the vacancy can be per- 
 manently filled. There is talk of making Cartagena an arch- 
 bishopric, and so a new bishop will not be appointed until 
 that question is settled. Meanwhile, Don Wenceslas adminis- 
 ters the affairs of the Church there." 
 
 "And he — he^" stammered the stunned priest. 
 
 "To be sure, Senor Padre," interrupted Don Mario, laugh- 
 ing aloud; "the good Don Wenceslas no doubt has learned of 
 the beautiful Carmen, and he cannot permit her to waste ; her 
 loveliness in so dreary a place as Simiti. And so he summons 
 her to Cartagena, in care of his agent. Padre Diego, who 
 awaits the girl now in Banco to conduct her safely down the 
 river. At least, this is what Padre Diego writes me. Bien, 
 it is the making of the girl, to be so favored by His Grace!" 
 
 Jose staggered and would have fallen, had not Fernando 
 supported him. Don Mario turned into his house. But as he 
 went he spitefully hurled back: 
 
 "Bien, Senor Padre, whom have you to blame but your- 
 self? You keep a child from her suffering father— you give- 
 all your time to her, neglecting the other poor children of 
 your parish — you send Rosendo into* the mountains to search 
 for La Libertad — you break your agreement with me, for you 
 long ago said that we should work together — is it not so? 
 You find gold in the mountains, but you do not tell me. Na, 
 you work against me — you oppose my authority as Alcalde — 
 Bien, you opposed even the authority of the good Bishop- 
 may he rest with the Saints! You have not made a good 
 priest for Simiti, Senor Padre — na, you have made a very bad 
 
 226 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 one! And now you wonder that the good Don Wenceslas 
 takes the girl from you, to bring her up in the right way. 
 Caramba! if it is not already too late to save her from your 
 bad teachings!" His voice steadily rose while he talked, and 
 ended in a shrill pipe. 
 
 Jose made as if to reach him; but Fernando held him back. 
 The Alcalde got quickly within the house and secured the 
 door. "Go now to your home, Padre," urged Fernando; "else 
 I shall call help and put you in the stocks, too!" 
 
 "But I will enter that house! I will take the child from 
 him!" shouted Jos6 desperately, struggling to gain the Al- 
 calde's door. 
 
 "Listen to me, Padre!" cried Fernando, holding to the 
 frenzied man. "The little Carmen — she is not in there!" 
 
 "Not — in — there ! Then where is she, Fernando? — for God's 
 sake tell me!" appealed the stricken priest. Great beads of 
 perspiration stood upon his face, and tears rolled down his 
 drawn cheeks. 
 
 Fernando could not but pity him. "Bien, Padre," he said 
 gently; "come away. I give you my word that the girl is not 
 in the house of the Alcalde. But I am not permitted to say 
 where she is." 
 
 "Then I will search every house in Simiti!" cried the priest 
 wildly. 
 
 "Na, Padre, you would not find her. Come, I will go home 
 with you." He took Jose's arm again and led him, blindly 
 stumbling, to the parish house. 
 
 By this time the little town was agog with excitement. 
 People ran from house to house, or gathered on the street 
 corners, discussing the event. 
 
 "Caramba!" shrilled one wrinkled beldame, "but Simiti 
 was very quiet until the Cura came!" 
 
 "Na, senora," cried another, "say, rather, until that wicked 
 little hada was brought here by Rosendo!" 
 
 "Cierto, she is an hada I" put in a third; "she cured Juanita 
 of goitre by her charms! I saw it!" 
 
 "Caramba! she works with the evil one. I myself saw her 
 come from the old church on the hill one day! Bien, what 
 was she doing? I say, she was talking with the bad angel 
 which the" blessed Virgin has locked in there!" 
 
 "Yes, and I have seen her coming from the cemetery. She 
 talks with the buzzards that roost on the old wall, and they 
 are full of evil spirits!" 
 
 "And she brought the plague two years ago — ^who knows?" 
 piped another excitedly. 
 
 "Quien sabe? But it was not the real plague, anyway." 
 
 227 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Bueno, and that proves that she caused it, no?" 
 "Cierto, senora, she cast a spell on the town!" 
 Jos6 sat in his little house like one in a dream. Fernando 
 remained with him. Dona Maria had gone to the jail to see 
 Rosendo. Juan had returned that morning to Bodega Central, 
 and Lazaro was at work on the plantation across the lake. 
 Jose thought bitterly that the time had been singularly well 
 chosen for the coup. Don Mario's last words burned through 
 his tired brain like live coak. In a sense the Alcalde was 
 right. He had been selfishly, absorbed in the girl. But he 
 alone, excepting Rosendo, had any adequate appreciation of 
 the girl's real nature. To the stagnant wits of Simiti she was 
 one of them, but with singular characteristics which caused 
 the more superstitious and less intelligent to look upon her 
 as an uncanny creature,' possessed of occult powers. 
 
 Moreover, Jose had duped Don Mario with assurances of 
 cooperation. He had allowed him to believe that Rosendo was 
 searching for La Libertad, and that he should participate; in 
 the discovery, if made. Had his course been wholly wise, 
 after all? He could not say that it had. 
 
 But — God above! it was all to save an innocent child from 
 the blackest of fates! If he had been stronger himself, this 
 never could have happened. Or, perhaps, if he had not al- 
 lowed himself to be lulled to sleep by a fancied security bred 
 of those long months of quiet, he might have been awake and 
 alert to meet the enemy when he returned to the attack. Alas ! 
 the devil had left him for a season, and Jose had laid down 
 "the shield of faith," while he lost himself in the intellectual 
 content which the study of the new books purchased with his 
 ancestral gold had afforded. But evil sleeps not; and with a 
 persistency that were admirable in a better cause, it returned 
 with unbated vigor at the moment the priest was off his 
 guard. 
 
 *»♦»»♦ 
 Dawn broke upon a sleepless night for Jose. The Alcalde 
 had sent word that Fernando must remain with the priest, 
 and that no visits would be permitted to Rosendo in the jail. 
 Jos6 had heard nothing from Carmen, and, though often dur- 
 ing the long night he sought to know, as she would, that God's 
 protection rested upon her; and though he sought ' feebly to 
 prove the immanence of good by: knowing no evil, the morn- 
 ing found him drawn and haggard, with corroding fear gnaw- 
 ing his desolate heart. Fernando remained mute; and Dona 
 Maria could only learn that the constable had been seen lead- 
 ing the girl into Don Mario's house shortly after Rosendo's 
 arrest. 
 
 228 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 At an early hour the people, buzzing with excitement, as- 
 sembled for the trial, which was held in the town hall, a long, 
 empty adobe house of but a single room, with dirt floor, and 
 a few rough benches. The Alcalde occupied a broken chair 
 at one end of the room. The trial itself was of the simplest 
 order: any person might voice his opinion; and the final 
 verdict was left to the people. 
 
 In a shaking voice, his frame tremulous with nervous agi- 
 tation, Rosendo recounted the birth of the child at Badillo, 
 and the manner of her coming into his family. He told of 
 Diego's appointment to Simiti, and of the loss of his own 
 daughter. Waxing more and more- energetic as his recital 
 drew out, he denounced Diego as the prince of liars, and as 
 worthy of the violent end which he was certain to meet if 
 ever that renegade priest should venture near enough for him 
 to lay his hands upon him. The little locket was produced, 
 and all present commented on the probable identity of the 
 girl's parents. Many affected to detect a resemblance to Diego 
 in the blurred photograph of the man. Others scouted the 
 idea. Don Mario swore loudly that it could be no other. 
 Diego had often talked to him, sorrowfully, and in terms of 
 deepest affection, about the beautiful woman whose love he 
 had won, but whom his vows of celibacy prevented from mak- 
 ing his lawful wife. The Alcalde's recital was dramatic to a 
 degree, and at its close several excitedly attempted to address 
 the multitude at the same time. 
 
 Oratory flowed on an ever rising tide, accompanied by 
 much violent gesticulation and expectoration by way of em- 
 phasis. At length it was agreed that Diego had been, in times 
 past, a bad man, but that the verbal proofs which he had 
 given the Alcalde were undoubtedly valid, inasmuch as the 
 Bishop stood behind them — and Don Mario assured the people 
 that they were most certainly vouched for by His Grace. The 
 day was almost carried when the eloquent Alcalde, in glowing 
 rhetoric, painted the splendid future awaiting the girl, under 
 the patronage of the Bishop. How cruel to retain her in 
 dreary little Simiti, even though Diego's claim still remained 
 somewhat obscure, when His Grace, learning of her talents, 
 had summoned her to Cartagena to be educated in the convent 
 for a glorious future of service to God ! Ah, that a like beauti- 
 ful career awaited all the children of Simiti! 
 
 Jos6 at length forced himself before the people and begged 
 them to listen to him. But, when he opened his mouth, the 
 words stumbled and halted. For what had he to say? To 
 tell these people that he was striving to educate the girl away 
 from them was impossible. To say that he was trying to save 
 
 229 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 her from the Church would be fatal. And to reiterate that 
 Diego's claim was a fabrication, added nothing of value to 
 the evidence, for what did he know of the child's parentage? 
 He feebly begged them to wait until Diego's claim had been 
 either corroborated or annulled. But no ; they had the Bishop's 
 corroboration, and that sufficed. "And, Caramba!" cried Don 
 Mario, interrupting the priest in a loud voice, "if we oppose 
 the Bishop, then will he send the government soldiers to us 
 — and you know what — " 
 
 "Cielo, yes!" came from the multitude in one voice. 
 
 Jose sank down thoroughly beaten. His hands were tied. 
 The case now rested with her God. 
 
 The people drew apart in little groups to discuss the mat- 
 ter. Don Mario's beady eyes searched them, until he was 
 certain of the way the tide was flowing. Then he rose and 
 called for order. 
 
 "Bueno, amigos g amigas," he began with immense dignjty; 
 "what say you if we sum up the case as follows : The proofs 
 have the support of the Bishop, and show that the girl is the 
 daughter of Padre Diego. Rosendo is guilty of having kept 
 her from her own father, and for that he should be severely 
 punished. Let him be confined in the jail for six months, and 
 be forced to pay to us a fine of one thousand pesos oro — " 
 
 "Caramba! but he has no such sum," cried the people 
 with mouths agape. 
 
 "Bien, I say he can get it!" retorted the Alcalde, looking 
 meaningly at Jose. "And he should pay it for depriving the 
 child of a father's love and the religious instruction which he 
 would have given her!" 
 
 Jose jumped to his feet. "Friends!" he cyied, playing his 
 last card. "Will you not remember that more than that 
 amount is due Rosendo for the care of the child? Who will 
 repay him?" 
 
 The whimsical, fickle people broke into excited exclama- 
 tions. 
 
 "Cierto!" 
 
 "The Cura is right!" 
 
 "Let Rosendo pay no fine — ^he has no gold, anyway!" 
 
 "Cut down the sentence, Don Mario. We do not like this!" 
 
 The Alcalde saw that he had gone a bit too far. "Bueno, 
 then," he amended. "We will cancel both the fine and Padre 
 Diego's debt to Rosendo, and the sentence shall be reduced to 
 — what say you all?" 
 
 "A month in the jail, Don Mario, no more," suggested one. 
 
 An exclamation of approval from the crowd drowned the 
 protest which Josd sought vainly to voice. Rosendo rose 
 quickly; but Fernando and others seized him. 
 
 230 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Bien, it is approved," bawled the Alcalde, waving his thick 
 arms. "Take the prisoner to the cdreel, Senor Policia," turn- 
 ing to the constable. 
 
 "And the girl, Sefior the Alcalde — when will you send her 
 to her father?" called some one. 
 
 "Yes, Don Mario, she must be taken to Padre Diego at 
 once," piped a woman's shrill voice, 
 
 "Bien," shouted the Alcalde, following his words with a 
 long, coarse laugh, "I was wise enough to know what you 
 would decide, and sent the girl down the river last night!" 
 
 CHAPTER 25 
 
 THE candles and smoky oil lamps of Banco threw a fitful 
 shimmer out upon the great river, casting huge, spectral 
 shadows across its muddy, swirling waters, and seeming 
 rather to intensify the blackness that lay thick and menacing 
 upon its restless bosom. Rivermen who follow their hazard- 
 ous calling along the Magdalena do not lightly risk the dangers- 
 of travel by night in their native canoes, when at any moment 
 a false stroke, a sudden crash against a tossing forest tree, 
 and a cry through the inky blackness, might sound to the 
 straining ears of hushed listeners on the distant banks the 
 elements of another of the mighty river's grim nocturnal 
 tragedies. 
 
 But on the night following the trial of Rosendo in distant 
 Simiti a canoe stole like a thing ashanied through the heavy 
 shadows along the river's margin, and poked its blunt nose 
 into the ooze at the upper edge of the town. Its two scantily 
 clad bogas, steaming with perspiration and flecked with mud 
 from the charged waters, sprang lightly from the frail craft 
 and quickly made it fast to one of the long stilts upon which 
 a ramshackle frame house rested. Then they assisted the 
 third occupant of the canoe, a girl, to alight; and together 
 they wended their way up the slippery bank and toward the 
 town above. 
 
 "Caramba, compadrel" ejaculated one of the men, stum- 
 bling into a deep rut, "it is well you know where we go. 
 Hombrel but I travel no more on the river by night. And, 
 compadre, we had best ask Padre Diego to offer a candle to 
 the Virgin for our safe arrival, no?" 
 
 The other man chuckled. "To be sure, friend Julio. Don 
 Diego has much influence with virgins." 
 
 "Hombrel I like not his dirty work." 
 
 231 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Bien, amigo, what would you?! You are well paid; and 
 besides, you score against that baby-faced priest, Jose, who 
 drove you out of Simiti because you were not married to your 
 woman. You cannot complain, compadre." 
 
 "Caramba! I have yet to see the color of the pesos. I 
 do not much trust your Padre Diego." 
 
 "Na, amigo, a bit of rum will put new life into your soaked 
 gizzard. Cierto, this trip down the river was a taste of purga- 
 tory; but you know we may as well get used to it here^ for 
 when we pobres are dead who will buy Masses to get us out?" 
 
 "Caramba!" muttered the other sullenly, as he stumbled 
 on through the darkness, "but if. we have no money the priests 
 will let us burn forever!" 
 
 The girl went along with the men silently and without com- 
 plaint, even when her bare feet slipped into the deep ruts in 
 the trail, or were paiufuUy bruised and cut by the sharp stones 
 and bits of wood, that lay in the narrow path. Once she fell. 
 The man addressed as Julio assisted her to her feet. The 
 other broke into a torrent of profane abuse. 
 
 "Na, Ricardo," interrupted Julio, "hold your foolish tongue 
 and let the girl alone! You and I have cursed all the way 
 from Simiti, but she has made no complaint. She shames 
 me. Caramba, I wish I were well out of this business!" 
 
 A few minutes later they struck one of the main thorough- 
 fares. Then the men stopped to draw on their cotton shirts 
 arid trousers before entering the town. The road was better 
 here, and they made rapid progress. The night was far spent, 
 and the streets were deserted. In the main portipu of the 
 town ancient Spanish lamps, hanging uncertainly in their 
 sconces against old colonial houses, threw a feeble ligiht into 
 the darkness. Before one of the better of these houses Julio 
 and the girl were halted by their companion. 
 
 "Bien," he said, "it is here that the holy servant of God 
 lives. Caramba, but may his garrafon be full!" 
 
 They entered the open door and mounted the stone steps. 
 On the floor above they paused in the rotunda, and Ricardo 
 called loudly A side door opened and a yojing woman ap- 
 peared, holding a lighted candle aloft. Ricardo greeted her 
 courteously. "El Senor Padre, sefiorita Ana?" he said, Row- 
 ing low. "You will do us the favor to announce our arrival, 
 no?" 
 
 The woman stared uncomprehendingly at the odd trio. 
 "The Padre is not here," she finally said. 
 
 "Dies y diablo!" cried Ricardo, forgetting his courtesy. 
 "But we have risked our skins to bring him the brat, and he 
 not here to receive and reward us! Caramba!" 
 
 232 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "But — Ricardo, he is out with friends to-night — he may 
 return at any moment. Who is the girl? And why do you 
 bring her here?" She stepped forward, holding the candle 
 so that its light fell full upon her face. As she did this the 
 girl darted toward her and threw herself into the woman's 
 arms. 
 
 "Anita!" she cried, her voice breaking with emotion, 
 "Anita— I am Carmen! Do you not khow me?" 
 
 The woman fell back in astonishment. "Carmen! What! 
 The little Carmen, my father's — " 
 
 "Yes, Anita, I am padre Rosendo's Carmen — and yours!" 
 
 Ana clasped the girl in her arms. "Santa Maria, child! 
 What brings you here, of all places?" 
 
 Ricardo stepped forward to explain. "As you may see, 
 senorita, it is we who have brought her here, at the command 
 of her father. Padre Diego." 
 
 "Her father!" 
 
 "Yes, senorita. And, since you say he is not in, we must 
 wait until he returns." 
 
 The woman stood speechless with amazement. Carmen 
 clung to her, while Ricardo stood looking at them, with a 
 foolish leer on his face. Julio drew back into the shadow of 
 the wall. 
 
 "Bien, senorita," said Ricardo, stepping up to the child 
 and attempting to take her arm, "we will be held to account 
 for the girl, and we must not lose her. Carambd! For then 
 would the good Padre damn us forever!" 
 
 Carmen shrank away from him. Julio emerged swiftly 
 from the shadow and laid a restraining hand on Ricardo. The 
 woman tore Carmen from his grasp and thrust the girl behind 
 herself. "Cierto, friend Ricardo, we are all responsible for 
 her," she said quickly. "But you are tired and hungry — ^is it 
 not so? Let me take you to the cocina, where you will find 
 roast pig and a bit of red rum." 
 
 "Rum!" The man's eyes dilated. "Carambal my throat 
 is like the ashes of purgatory!" 
 
 "Come, then," siaid the woman, holding Carmen tightly by 
 the hand and leading the way down the steps to the kitchen 
 below. Arriving there, she lighted an oil lamp and hurriedly 
 set out food and a large garrafon of Jamaica rum. 
 
 "There, compadre, is a part of your reward. And we will 
 now wait until Padre Diego arrives, is it not so?" 
 
 While the men ate and drank voraciously, interpolating 
 their actions at frequent intervals with bits of vivid comment 
 on their river trip, the woman cast many anxious glances 
 toward the steps leading to the floor above. From time to 
 
 233 
 
 25 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 time she replenished Ricardo's glass, and urged him to drink. 
 The man needed no invitation. Physical exhaustion and short 
 rations while on the river had prepared him for just what the 
 woman most desired to accomplish, and as glass after glass of 
 the flery liquor burned its way down his throat, she saw his 
 scant wit fading, until at last it deserted him completely, 
 and he sank into a drunken- torpor. Then, motioning to Julio, 
 who had consumed less of the rum, she seized the senseless 
 Ricardo by the feet, and together they dragged him out into 
 the patio and threw him under a platano tree. 
 
 ^ "But, senorita — " began Julio in remonstrance, as thoughts 
 of Diego's wrath filtered through his befuddled brain. 
 
 "Not a word, hombre!" she commanded, turning upon him. 
 "If you lay a hand upon this child my knife shall find your 
 heart!" 
 
 "But— my pay?" 
 
 "How much did Padre Diego say he would give you?" she 
 demanded. 
 
 "Three pesos oro — and rations," replied the man thickly. 
 
 "Wait here, theh, and I will bring you the money." 
 
 Still retaining Carmen's hand, she mounted the steps, listen- 
 ing cautiously for the tread of her master. Reaching the ro- 
 tunda above, she drew Carmen into the room from which she 
 had emerged before, and, bidding her conceal herself if Diego 
 should arrive, took her wallet and hastily descended to where 
 the weaving Julio waited. 
 
 "There, amigo," she said hurriedly, handing him the 
 money. "Now do you go — at once! And do not remain in 
 Banco, or Padre Diego, will surely make you trouble. Your 
 life is not safe here now. Go!" She pointed to the door; and 
 Julio, impressed with a sense of his danger, lost no time in 
 making his exit. 
 
 Returning to Carmen, the woman seated hei;self and drew 
 the girl to her. "Carmen, child!" she cried, tremblings as her 
 eyes searched the girl. "Tell me why you are here!" 
 
 "I do not know, Anita dear," murmured the girl, nestling 
 close to the woman and twining an arm about her neck; "ex- 
 cept that day before yesterday the Alcalde put padre Rosendo 
 into the jail — " 
 
 "Into the jail!" 
 
 "Yes, Anita dear. And then, when I was going to see him, 
 Fernando ran out of Don Mario's house and told me I must go 
 in and see the Alcalde. Julio Gomez and this man Ricardo 
 were there talking with Don Mario in the patio. Then they 
 threw a ruana over me and carried me out through the patio 
 and around by the old church to the Boque trail. When we 
 
 234 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 got to the trail they made me walk with the-m to the Inanea 
 river, where they put me into a canoe. They paddled fast, 
 down to the Boque river; then to the Magdalena; and down 
 here to Banco. They did not stop at all, except when steam- 
 boats went hy — oh, Anita, I never saw a steamboat before! 
 What big, noisy things, they are! But Padre Jose had often 
 told me about them. And when the big boats passed us they 
 made me lie down in the canoe, and they put the ruana over 
 me and told me if I made any noise they would throw me into 
 the river. But I knew if I just kept still and knew — really 
 knew — that God would take care of me, why. He would. And, 
 you see, He did, for He brought me to you." A tired sigh 
 escaped her lips as she laid her head on the woman's shoulder. 
 
 "But — oh, Santa Maria!" moaned the woman, "you are 
 not safe here! What can I do? — ^what can I do?" 
 
 "Well, Anita dear, you can know that God is here, can't 
 you? I knew that all the way down the river. And, oh, I am 
 so glad to see you! Why, just think, it is eight years since you 
 used to play with me! And now we will go back to Simiti, 
 will we not, Anita?" 
 
 "Pray to the Virgin to help us, child! You may have in- 
 fluence with her — I have none, for my soul is lost!" 
 
 "Why, Anita dear, that is not true! You and I are both 
 God's children, and He is right here with us. All we have to 
 do is to know it — ^just really know it." 
 
 "But, tell me, quick — Diego may be here any moment — 
 why did he send Ricardo for you?" 
 
 The girl became very serious. "Anita dear. Padre Diego 
 says I am his child." 
 
 "What!" 
 
 "Yes — his daughter — that he is my father. But — is it really 
 so, Anita?" 
 
 "Madre de Diosl" cried the woman. "What a beast! — 
 what a beast! He saw you in Simiti when he was last there 
 — and you are now a beautiful — No, child, yoii are not his 
 daughter ! The wretch lies — ^he is a sink of lies ! He is rotten 
 with sin! Oh, Diosl" 
 
 "Why, no, Anita dear, he is not a beast — we must love 
 him, for he is God's child, too," said Carmen, patting the 
 woman's wet cheek with her soft hand. 
 
 "He!— God's child!" She broke into a shrill of laughter. 
 "Carita, he is Satan himself! You do not knpw him!" 
 
 "I don't mean that what you think you see is God's child, 
 Anita dear; but that what you think you see stands for God's 
 child, and isn't real. And if we know that, why, we will see 
 the real child of God — the real man — and not what you call 
 a beast." 
 
 235 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Ana apparently did not hear. Her thought was with the 
 future. Carmen looked about the room. "Oh, Anita," she 
 exclaimed, "what a beautiful place, and what beautiful things 
 you have!" She rubbed the tile floor with her bare foot. 
 "Why, Anita dear, it is just like the palaces Padre Jose has 
 told me about!" She walked around the room, touching the 
 various toilet articles on the dresser, passing her hands care- 
 fully over the upholstered chairs, and uttering exclamations of 
 wonder and delight. "Anita — Anita dear ! Why, it is a palace I 
 Oh! oh! oh!" 
 
 The woman looked up with a wan smile. "Chiquita, they 
 are nothing. They are all cheap trinkets — nothing compared 
 with what there is in the big world beyond us. You poor dear, 
 you have lived all your life in miserable little Simiti, and you 
 haven't the slightest idea of what there is in the world!" 
 
 "But, Anita dear, Simiti is beautiful," the girl protested. 
 
 "Beautiful!" The woman laughed aloud. "My dear, sim- 
 ple little girl! You have seen only this poor room, and you 
 think it wonderful. I have been to Barranquilla and Cartagena 
 with Padre Diego, and have seen houses a thousand times 
 more beautiful than this. And yet, even those are nothing to 
 what there is in the world outside." 
 
 Carmen went to the bed and passed her hand over the 
 white counterpane. "Anita — why, is this — is this your — " 
 
 "Yes, chiquita, it is my bed. You have never seen a real 
 bed, poor little thing." 
 
 "But — " the child's eyes were wide with wonder — "it is so 
 soft — ^you sink way into it — oh, so soft — like the heron's feath- 
 ers! I didn't sleep at all in the canoe — and I am so tired." 
 
 "You blessed lamb!" cried the woman, springing up and 
 clasping the girl in her arms. "But — what can I do? When 
 he returns, he may come right up here! Santa Maria, help 
 me!— what shall I do?" 
 
 "Anita — let me sleep in your bed — it is so soft — ^but — " 
 looking dowii dubiously at her muddy feet. 
 
 "Never mind them, child." The woman's face had set in 
 grim determination. She went to the dresser and took out a 
 small stiletto, which she quickly concealed in the bosom of 
 her dress. "Get right in, just as you are! I will take care of 
 Diego, if he comes! Santa Maria, I will — " 
 
 "Anita dear," murmured the girl, sinking down between 
 the white sheets, "you and I will just know that God is every- 
 where, and that He will take care of us, and of Padre Diego 
 too." With a sigh of contentment the child closed her eyes. 
 "Anita dear," she whispered softly, "wasn't He good to bring 
 me right to you? And to-morrow we will go back to Simiti — 
 
 236 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 and to padre Rosendo — and Padre Jose — and — and Cantar- 
 las-horas — you haven't seen him for such a long time — such 
 a long — long — Anita dear, I— love-r-you — " 
 
 The child dropped asleep, just as a heavy step fell outside 
 the door. Ana sprang up and extinguished the lamp, then 
 went quickly out into the rotunda. Padre Diego was standing 
 on the top step, puffing and weaving unsteadily. The woman 
 hurried to him and passed an arm about his waist. 
 
 "Oh!" she exclaimed in a tone of feigned solicitation. "I 
 feared you had met with an accident! My heart beats like 
 the patter of rain ! Why do you stay out so late and cause me 
 worry?" 
 
 The bloated face of the man leered like a Jack-o'-lantern. 
 "Spiritual retreat, my love — spiritual retreat," he muttered 
 thickly. "Imbibing the spirits, you know." He laughed heavily 
 at his coarse joke. 
 
 The woman gave him a look of inexpressible disgust. "But 
 you are home safe, at any rate," s^e said in a fawning voice; 
 "and my fear is quieted. Come now, and I will help you into 
 bed. Not in there!" she cried, as he lurched toward the door 
 of the room where Carmen lay; "in your own room to-night!" 
 
 He swayed to and fro before her, as she stood with her 
 back against the door. 
 
 "Nombre de Dios!" he muttered, "but you grow daily more 
 unkind to your good Padre! Bien, it is well that I have a 
 fresh little housekeeper coming!" He made again as if to 
 enter the room. The woman threw her arms about his neck. 
 
 "Padre dear," she appealed, "have you ceased to love your 
 Anita? She would spend this night alone; and can you not 
 favor her this once?" 
 
 "Carambal" he croaked in peevish suspicion, "but I think 
 you have a paramour in there. Bien, I will go in and shrive 
 his wicked soul!" 
 
 "Oh, I forgot to tell you!" cried the desperate woman, her 
 hand stealing to the weapon concealed in her dress. "Pepito 
 came this evening with the case of Oporto which you ordered 
 long ago from Spain. I put it in your study, for I knew you 
 would want to sample it the moment you returned." 
 
 "Caramba!" he cried, turning upon her, "why do you not 
 tell me important things as soon as I arrive? I marvel that 
 you did not wait until morning to break this piece of heavenly 
 news!' Bien, come to the study, and you shall open a bottle 
 for me, Dios! but my throat is seared with Don Antonio's 
 vile rum! My parched soul panteth for the wine of the gods 
 that flows from sunny Spain! Caramba, woman, give your 
 self haste!" 
 
 237 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Suffering himself to be led by her, he staggered across the 
 rotunda and into the room where long before he had enter- 
 tained for a brief hour Don Jorge and the priest- Jose. Ana 
 quickly broke the neck of a bottle of the newly arrived wine 
 and gave him a generous measure. 
 
 "Ah, God in heaven!" murmured the besotted priest, sink- 
 ing into a chair and sipping the beverage; "it is the nectar of 
 Olympus — triple distilled through tubes of sunlight and per- 
 fumed with sweet airs and the smiles of voluptuous hourisi 
 Ah, Lord above, you are good to your little Diego! Another 
 sip, my lovely Ana— and bring me the cigarettes. And come, 
 fat lass, do you sit beside me and twine your graceful arms 
 about my neck, while your soft breath kisses my old cheek! 
 Ah, Dios, who would not be human! Caramba! the good God 
 may keep His heaven, if He will but give me the earth!" 
 
 Ana drew his head against her bosom and murmured hypo- 
 critical words of endearment in his ear, while she kept his 
 glass full. Diego babbled like a child. He nodded; struggled 
 to keep awake; and at length fell asleep with his head on her 
 shoulder. Then she arose, and, assured that he would be 
 long in his stupor, extinguished the light and hurried to her 
 own room. 
 
 Carmen was sleeping peacefully. The woman bent over 
 her with the lighted candle and looked long and wistfully. 
 "Ah, Santa Maria!" she prayed, "if you will but save her, you 
 may do what you will with me!" 
 
 Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she turned to the 
 door and threw the bolt. Coming back to the bed, she again 
 bent over the sleeping girl. "Santa Virgen!" she murmured, 
 "how beautiful! Like an angel! Dios mio — and that beast, 
 he has seen her, and he would — ah, Dios!" 
 
 Going again to the dresser, she took from a drawer a sandal- 
 wood rosary. Then she returned to the bed and knelt beside 
 the child. "Blessed Virgin," she prayed, while her hot tears 
 fell upon the beads, "I am lost — lost! Ah, I have not told my 
 beads for many years — I cannot say them now! Santa Virgen, 
 pray for me — pray for me — and if I kill him to-morrow, tell 
 the blessed Saviour that I did it for the child! Ah, Santa 
 Virgen, how beautiful she is — how pure— what hair — she is 
 from heaven — Santa Virgen, you will protect her?" She kissed 
 the cross repeatedly. "Madre de Dios — she is so beautiful, so 
 pure — " 
 
 Carmen moved slightly, and the woman rose hastily from 
 her knees. "Anita dear," murmured the child, "Jesus waked 
 Lazarus — out of his — sleep. Anita, why do you not come? 
 I am waiting for you." 
 
 238 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Yes, child, yes! But — Dios miol" she murmured when 
 Carmen again slept, "I am too wicked to sleep with so pure an 
 angel! — ho, I can not! I must not!" 
 
 She spread a light shawl upon the tile floor near the window 
 and lay down upon it, drawing a lace mantilla over her face to 
 protect it from the mosquitoes. "Santa Virgen," she mur- 
 mured repeatedly, "pray the blessed Saviour to protect her 
 to-morrow^pray for her, Madre de Dios — pray for her!" 
 
 The piercing shriek of a steamboat whistle roused the 
 woman just as the first harbingers of dawn spread over the 
 river a crimson flush that turned it into a stream of blood. 
 The child was asleep. Ana bent over her and left a kiss on 
 her forehead. Then she stole out of the room and into the 
 study. Padre Diego lay sunk in his chair like a monster toad. 
 The woman threw him a look of utter loathing, and then 
 hastily descended into the patio. Ricardo lay under the 
 platano tree, sleeping heavily. She roused him with a kick. 
 
 "Up, man!" she cried, shaking him by the shoulder. "Padre 
 Diego sends you this money, and bids you go. He is well satis- 
 fied with your work." She held out a roll of pesos. 
 
 The man, after much vigorous persuasion, got heavily to 
 his feet. "Caramba, senorita!" he muttered in a dazed voice. 
 "That last tragito — it was a bit too much, no? But — Bien, 
 I would see the good Padre. Caramba, my poor head! What 
 rum! But, sefiorita, do me the great favor to ask the good 
 Padre to see me one little moment. I must deliver this letter 
 to him." He fumbled in his wallet and drew out an envelope. 
 
 "He will not see you, Ricardo. He — " 
 
 "Caramba!" ejaculated the man loudly, as his senses re- 
 turned. "But I believe there is something wrong here! Bien, 
 now I shall see the Padre! I am responsible to him!" He 
 pushed the woman aside and entered the house. 
 
 Ana started after him, and seized his arm. A scuffle ensued, 
 and Ricardo's voice was loud and shrill as they reached the 
 stairs. The woman clung to him desperately. "Ricardo — any- 
 thing you ask — double the amount, if you will go ! Leave the 
 house — I will tell the Padre — I will give him the letter — " 
 
 "Caramba, but I will see him myself!" shouted the light- 
 headed Ricardo. 
 
 "Dios y diablo!" A heavy voice rolled down from above. 
 "Bien, enamorada, is this the paramour whom you hid in your 
 room last night? Caramba, you might have chosen a hand- 
 somer one!" 
 
 Ana sank down with a moan and buried her face in her' 
 hands. Diego heavily descended the stairs. "Ha, Ricardo!" 
 
 239 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 he exclaimed, recognizing the man. "Bien, so it is you! And 
 the girl?" 
 
 "I do not know. Padre," cried the man excitedly. "Seiiorita 
 Ana, she made me drunk last night. I brought the girl — I 
 waited for you, but the seiiorita — " 
 
 "Caramba, I understand!" replied Diego, turning to the 
 woman. 
 
 Ana had risen and was making for the stairs. Diego sprang 
 to her and seized her by the wrist. With her free hand she 
 drew the stiletto from her bosom and raised it to strike. Ricardo 
 saw the movement, and threw himself upon her. 
 
 "Dios!" cried Diego, as Ricardo felled the woman and 
 wrenched the weapon from her grasp. "My pretty angel, you 
 have the venom of a serpent! Sly wench! did you think to 
 deceive your doting Padre? But — Dios nos guarde!" 
 
 Carmen, awakened by the noise, had left her bed, and now 
 stood at the head of the stairs, looking with dilated eyes at the 
 strange scene being enacted below. 
 
 Silence fell upon the group. Ana lay on the ground, her 
 eyes strained toward the girl. Ricardo bent over her, awaiting 
 his master's command. He knew now that she had forever 
 lost her power over the priest. Diego stood like a statue, his 
 eyes riveted upon Carmen. The girl looked down upon them 
 from the floor above with an expression of wonder, yet without 
 fear. 
 
 Diego was the first to find his voice. "Ah, my pretty one!" 
 he wheedled. "My lovely daughter ! At last you come to your 
 lonely padre! Wait for me, hermostsimal" He puffed pain- 
 fully up the steps. 
 
 "Carmen! — run! — run! Don't let him come near you — !" 
 screamed Ana in a voice of horror. Ricardo clapped his hand 
 heavily over her mouth. 
 
 But the child did not move. Diego reached her and seized 
 her hand. 
 
 "Carisimal" he panted, feasting his eyes upon her, while a 
 thrill passed through his coarse frame. "Madre de Dios, but 
 you have grown beautiful! Don Mario was right — ^you are 
 surely the most voluptuous object in human form that has 
 ever crossed my path. Bien, the blessed God is still good to his 
 little Diego!" 
 
 He started away with her, but was detained by the loud 
 voice of Ricardo. 
 
 "Bien, Padre, my pay!" 
 
 "Cierto, hombre!" exclaimed Diego. "I was about to forget. 
 But — a father's joy — ah! Bien, come to me to-morrow — " 
 
 "Na, Sefior Padre, but to-day-^now! I have risked my life 
 — and I have a wife and babes! You will pay me this minute!" 
 
 240 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Caramba, ugly beast, but I will consign you to hell! Mal- 
 ditol get you gone! There are more convenient seasons than 
 this for your business!" And, still holding tightly to the girl's 
 hand, he led her into the study. 
 
 The woman turned upon Ricardo with the fury of a tiger. 
 "See now what you have done!" she screamed. "This will 
 cost your life, for you have put into his dirty hands the ^ soul of 
 an angel, and he will damn it! Santa VirgenI If you had 
 only taken the money I brought you — " 
 
 "Demon- tongue, I will take it now!" He snatched the roll 
 of bills from her hand and bolted through the door. With a 
 low moan the woman sank to the ground, while oblivion drew 
 its sable veil across her mind. 
 
 Reaching the study, Diego pushed Carmen into the room 
 and then followed, closing the door after him and throwing the 
 iron bolt. Turning about, he stood with arms akimbo upon 
 his bulging hips and gazed long and admiringly at the girl as 
 she waited in expectant wonder before him. A smile of satis- 
 faction and triumph .slowly spread over his coarse features. 
 Then it faded, and his heavy jowls and deep furrows formed 
 into an expression, sinister and ominous, through which lewd- 
 ness, debauchery, and utter corruption looked out brazenly, 
 defiantly, into the fair, open countenance of the young girl be- 
 fore him. A sense of weariness and dull pain then seemed to 
 follow. He shook his heavy head and passed a hand across his 
 brow, as if to brush aside the confusion left by the previous 
 night's potations. 
 
 "Madre de DiosI" he muttered, falling heavily into a chair, 
 "but had I known you were here, little rosebud, I should have 
 tried to keep sober." He reached out to grasp her; but she 
 eluded him and went quickly to the open window, where she 
 stood looking down into the street below. The morning sun- 
 light, streaming into the room, engulfed her in its golden flood 
 and transmuted the child of earth into a creature divinely ra- 
 diant, despite the torn gown and stains of river travel. 
 
 "Bien, carisima," the man wheedled in a small, caressing 
 voice, "where is your greeting to your glad padre? Dios miol" 
 he muttered, his eyes roving over her full figure, "but the Vir- 
 gin herself was never more lovely! Come, daughter," he 
 purred, extending his arms ; "come to a father's heart that now, 
 praise the Saints! shall ache no more for its lost darling." 
 
 The girl faced about and looked at him for a few moments. 
 What her glance conveyed, the man was utterly incapable of 
 understanding. Then she drew up a chair that stood near the 
 window, and sinking into it, buried her face in her hands. 
 
 "Caramba, my smile of heaven! but why weep?" chirped 
 
 241 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Diego, affecting surprise. "Is it thus you celebrate your home- 
 coming? Or are these, perchance, fitting tears of joy? Bien, 
 your padre's doting heart itself weeps that its years of loneli- 
 ness are at last ended." He held the sleeve of his gown to his 
 eyes and sniffed affectedly. 
 
 The girl looked up quickly. "I am not weeping," she said. 
 
 "Bien, and what then?" he pursued. 
 
 "I was just knowing," she answered slowly, "that I was not 
 afraid — that God was everywhere, even right here — and that 
 He would not let any harm come to me." 
 
 Diego's eyes widened. Then he burst into a coarse laugh. 
 "Hombre! and you ask Him to protect you from your adoring 
 father! Come here, little wench. You are in your own home. 
 Why be afraid?" He again held out his arms to her. 
 
 "I am not afraid — now," she answered softly. "But — I do 
 not think God will let me come to you. If you were really my 
 father. He would." 
 
 The man's mouth gaped in astonishment. A fleeting sense 
 of shame swept through his festering mind. Then the lustful 
 meanness of his corrupted soul welled up anew, and he 
 laughed brutally. The idea was delightfully novel; the girl 
 beautifully audacious ; the situation piquantly amusing. He 
 would draw her out to his further enjoyment. "So," he ob- 
 served parenthetically, "I judge you are on quite familiar terms 
 with God, eh?" 
 
 "Very," she replied, profoundly serious. 
 
 The joke was excellent, and he roared with mirth. "Bueno, 
 pues!" he commented, reaching over and uncorking with shak- 
 ing hand the bottle that stood on the table. Then, filling a glass, 
 "Suppose you thank Him for sending his little Diego this esti- 
 mable wine and your own charming self, eh? Then tell me 
 what He says," Whereat he guffawed loudly and slapped his 
 bulging sides. 
 
 The girl had already bowed her head again in her hands. A 
 long pause ensued. Diego's beady eyes devoured the beautiful 
 creature before him. Then he waxed impatient. "Bien, little 
 Passion flower," he interrupted, "if you have conveyed to Him 
 my infinite gratitude, perhaps He will now let you come to 
 me, eh?" 
 
 Carmen looked up. A faint smile hovered upon her lips. 
 "I have thanked Him, Padre — for you and for me," she said; 
 "for you, that you really are His child, even if you don't know 
 it; and for me that I know He always hears me. That was 
 what the good man Jesus said, you know, when he waked 
 Lazarus out of the death-sleep. Don't you remember? And so 
 I kept thanking Him all the way down the river." 
 
 242 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Diego's eyes bulged as if they would pop from his head, 
 and his mouth fell open wide, but no sound issued therefrom. 
 The girl went on quietly: 
 
 "I was not afraid on the river. Padre. And I was not afraid 
 to come in here with you. I knew, just as the good man Jesus 
 did at the tomb of Lazarus, that God had heard me — He just 
 couldn't be God if He hadn't, you know. And then I remem- 
 bered what the good man said about not resisting evil ; for, you 
 know, if we resist evil we make it real — and we never, never 
 can overcome anything real, can we? So I resisted evil with 
 good, just as Jesus told us to do. I just knew that God was 
 everywhere, and that evil was unreal, and had no power at all. 
 And so the bogas didn't hurt me coming down the river. And 
 you — ^you will not either. Padre." 
 
 She stopped and smiled sweetly at him. Then, very seri- 
 ously: 
 
 "Padre, one reason why I was not afraid to come in here 
 with you was that I thought God might want to talk to you 
 through me, and I could help you. You need help, you know." 
 
 The man settled back in his chair and stared stupidly at 
 her. His face expressed utter consternation, confusion, and 
 total lack of comprehension. Once he muttered under his 
 breath, "Caramba! she is surely an hadal" But Carmen did 
 not hear him. Absorbed in her mission, she went on earnestly : 
 
 "You know. Padre, we are all channels through which God 
 talks to people — ^just like the asequia out there in the street 
 through which the water flows. We are all channels for divine 
 love — so Padre Jose says." 
 
 The priest sat before her like a hiuge pig, his little eyes 
 blinking dully, and his great mouth still agape. 
 
 "We are never afraid of real things, Padre, you know; and 
 so I couldn't be afraid of the real 'you,' for that is a child of 
 God. And the other 'you' isn't real. We are only afraid of our 
 wrong thoughts. But such thoughts are not really ours, you 
 know, for they don't come from God. But," she laughed softly, 
 "when I saw you coming up the steps after me this morning — 
 well, lots of fear-thoughts came to me — why, they just seemed 
 to come pelting down on me like the rain. But I wouldn't listen 
 to them. I turned right on them, just as I've seen Cucumbra 
 turn on a puppy that was nagging him, and I said, 'Here, now, 
 I know what you are; I know you don't come from God; and 
 anything that doesn't come from God isn't really anything at 
 all!' And so they stopped pelting me. The good man Jesus 
 knew, didn't he;? That's why he said so often, 'Be not afraid.' " 
 
 She paused again and beamed at him. Her big eyes sparkled, 
 and her face glowed -with celestial light. Diego raised a heavy 
 
 243 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 arm and, groping for the bottle, eagerly drained another glass 
 of wine. 
 
 "You think that wine makes you happy, don't you. Padre?" 
 she observed, watching him gulp down the heavy liquor. "But 
 it doesn't. It just gives you what Padre Jos6 calls a false 
 sense of happiness.' And when that false sense passes away — 
 for everything unreal has just got to pass away — why, then 
 you are more unhappy than you were before. Isn't it so?" 
 
 The astonished Diego now regained his voice. ''Caramba, 
 girl!" he ejaculated, "will you rein that runaway tongue!" 
 
 "No, Padre," she replied evenly, "for it is God who is talking 
 to you. Don't you hear Him? You ought to, for you are a 
 priest. You ought to know Him as well as the good man Jesus 
 did. Padre, can you lay your hands on the sick babies and 
 cure them?" 
 
 The man squirmed uncomfortably for a moment, and then 
 broke into another brutal laugh. "Sick babies! Caramba! but 
 we find it easier to raise new babies than to cure sick ones! 
 But — little hadal Hombre! do hadas have such voluptuous 
 bodies, such plump legs! Madre de Dios, girl, enough of your 
 preaching! Come to me quick! I hunger for you! Come!" 
 
 "No, Padre," she answered quietly, "I do not want to come 
 to you. But I want to talk to you — " 
 
 "Dios y diablo! enough of your gab! Caramba! with a 
 Venus before me do you think I yearn for a sermon? Hombre! 
 delay it, delay it — " 
 
 "Padre," she interrupted, "you do not see me. You are 
 looking only at your b^d thoughts of me." 
 
 "Ha! my thoughts, eh?" His laugh resembled the snort of 
 an animal. 
 
 "Yes, Padre — and they are very bad thoughts, too^-they 
 don't come from God, and you are so foolish to let them Use 
 you the way you do. Why do you. Padre? for you don't have 
 to. And you know you see around you only the thoughts that 
 you have been thinking. Why don't you think good thoughts, 
 and so see only good things?" 
 
 "Now Mary bless my soul!" he exclaimed in mock surprise, 
 "Can it be that I don't see a plump little witch before me, but 
 only my bad thoughts, eh? Ha! ha! Caramba! that is good! 
 Bien, then," he coaxed, "come to your poor, deluded padre and 
 let him learn that you are only a thing of thought, and not the 
 most enchanting little piece of flesh that ever caused a Saint 
 to fall!" 
 
 The girl sat silent before him. Her smile had fled, and in 
 its place sadness and pity were written large upon her wistful 
 face. 
 
 244 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Come, my little bundle of thought," he coaxed, holding out 
 his fat, hairy arms. 
 
 "No, Padre," the girl answered firmly. 
 
 "Na, then, still afraid, eh?" he taunted, with rising anger. 
 
 "No, Padre; to be afraid would mean that I didn't under- 
 stand God." 
 
 "Ha ! Then come to me and prove that you do understand 
 Him, eh?" .he suggested eagerly. "Caramba! why do you sit 
 there like a mummy? Are you invoking curses on the bald 
 pate of your desolate father?" 
 
 "No, Padre; I am thanking God all the time that He is here, 
 and that He will not let you hurt me." 
 
 The man's lust-inflamed eyes narrowed and the expression 
 on his evil face became more sinister. "Maldita!" he growled, 
 "will you come hither, or must I — " 
 
 "No." She shook her head slowly, and her heavy curls 
 glistened in the sunlight. "No, Padre, God will not let me 
 come to you." 
 
 Panting and cursing softly, the man got slowly to his feet. 
 "Madre de Dios!" he muttered; "then we will see if your God 
 ■will let me come to you!" 
 
 Carmen rose and stood hesitant. Her lips moved rapidly, 
 though no sound came from them. They were forming the 
 words of the psalmist, "In Go& have I put my trust: I will not 
 be afraid what man can do unto me." It was a verse Jos6 had 
 taught her long since, when his own heart was bursting with 
 apprehension. 
 
 Diego stumbled heavily toward the child. She turned quick- 
 ly as if to flee. He thrust out his hand and clutched her dress. 
 The flimsy calico, frayed and worn, tore its full length, and 
 the gown fell to the floor. She stopped and turned to face the 
 man. Her white body glistened in the clear sunlight like a 
 marble statue. 
 
 "Por el amor de Dios!" ejaculated the priest, straightening 
 up and regarding her with dull, blinking eyes. Then, like a 
 tiger pouncing upon a fawn, he seized the unresisting girl in 
 his arms and staggered back to his chair. 
 
 "Caramba! Caramba!" he exclaimed, holding her with one 
 arm about her waist, and with his free hand clumsily pouring 
 another glass of wine. "Only a thing of thought, eh? Madre 
 de Dios! Bien, pretty thought, drink with me this thought of 
 wine!" He laughed boisterously at his crude wit, and forced 
 the glass between her lips. 
 
 "I — am not afraid — I am not afraid," she whispered, drink- 
 ing. "It cannot hurt me — nor can you. God is here!" 
 
 "Hurt you!" he panted, setting down the glass and mopping 
 
 245 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 his hot brow, as he settled back into the chair again. "Ca- 
 ramba! -who hurts when he loves?" 
 
 "You — do — not — love — me, Padre!" she gasped under his 
 tight clutch. "You have — only a wrong thought — of me — of 
 love — of everything!" 
 
 "Bien — but you love me, pretty creature, is it not so?" he 
 mocked, holding up her head and kissing her full on the 
 mouth. 
 
 "I — I love the real 'you' — for that is God's image," she 
 murmured, struggling to hold her face away from his fetid 
 breath. "But — I do not — love the way that image is — is trans- 
 lated — in your human mind!" 
 
 "Caramba!" he threw himself back and gave noisy vent to 
 his risibility. "Chiquita mia! What grand language! Where 
 did you learn it?" 
 
 For the moment the girl seemed to forget that she was in 
 the fell clutches of a demon incarnate. Her thought strayed 
 back to little Simiti, to Cucumbra, to Cantar-las-horas, to— 
 ah, was he searching for her now? And would he come? — 
 
 "It was Padre Jose ; he taught me," she whispered sadly. 
 
 "Padre Jose! Maldito! The curse of God blast him, the 
 monkey-faced mozo/ Caramba! but he will teach you no more! 
 You have a new master now to give you a few needed lessons, 
 senorita mia, and — " 
 
 "Padre Diego!" her tense voice checked further expression 
 of his low thought. "You have no power to curse apything! 
 You have no power to harm me, or to teach me anything ! God 
 is here! He will protect me! He keeps all them that love 
 Him!" She gasped again as his clutch tightened about her. 
 
 "Doubtless, my lily. Caramba! your skin is like the vel- 
 vet!" He roughly drew the girl up on his knees. "To be sure 
 He will protect you, my mariposa. And He is using me as the 
 channel, you see — ^just as you said a few moments ago, eh?" 
 His rude laugh again echoed through the room. 
 
 "He is not — using you — at all!" she panted. "Evil thoughts 
 are — are using you. And all — they can do — is to kill themr 
 selves — and you!" 
 
 "Madre Maria! Is such a sad fate in store for me, my 
 beautiful hada?" He chuckled and reached out again for the 
 bottle. "Another little thought of wine, my love. It's only a 
 thought, you know. Ha! ha! I must remember to tell Don 
 Antonio of this!— Ma Wi7a/" 
 
 His clumsy movement had upset the bottle. Struggling to 
 save its contents, he relaxed his hold on Carmen. Like a flash 
 she wormed her supple body out under bis arm, slid to the 
 floor, and gained the window. 
 
 246 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Dios g diablo! Maldital Maldita!" shrilled Diego, aflame 
 with wrath. "Cursed wench! when I lay these hands again 
 on you — !" 
 
 Struggling to his feet, he made for the girl. But at the 
 first step the light rug slid along the smooth tiles beneath his 
 uncertain tread. He threw out an arm and sought to grasp 
 the table. But as he did so, his foot turned under him. There 
 was a sharp, snapping sound. With a groan the heavy man 
 sank to the floor. 
 
 For a moment Carmen stood as if dazed. Diego lay very 
 still. Then the girl picked up her torn dress and approached 
 him carefully. "It was his bad thoughts," she whispered; "he 
 slipped on them; they threw him! I knew it — I just knew it!" 
 
 Passing to one side, she gained the door, threw back the 
 bolt, and hurried out into the rotunda. Crouched on the floor, 
 the stiletto clasped in her hand, sat Ana, her face drenched 
 with tears, and her chest heaving. When she saw the girl 
 she sprang to her feet. 
 
 "Carmen! Ah, Dios! your dress! — Madre Maria! I 
 could not save you ; I could not break through the heavy door ; 
 but I can punish him!" She burst into a flood of tears and 
 started into the room. 
 
 "No, Anita!" cried the girl, throwing herself into the wom- 
 an's arms. "He is punished ! He did not hurt me — God would 
 not let him! Look! Anita, look!" pointing to the body on the 
 floor. 
 
 The woman stopped abruptly. "Carmen!" she whispered 
 in awed tones, "did God strike him dead?" 
 
 "I don't know, Anita — but come! No!" clinging to the 
 woman's skirt; "Anita dear, do not go in there! Leave him! 
 Come away with me!" 
 
 The woman's eyes were wild, her hair loose and disheveled. 
 "Caramba!" she cried, "but we will make sure that the beast 
 is dead before we go! And if we leave this blade in his heart, 
 it may be a warning to others of his kind!" 
 
 "No, Anita — no ! God will not let you kill him ! You must 
 not! Your murder-thoughts will kill you if you do! Come! 
 Listen — it is a steamboat whistle! Oh, Anita — if it is going 
 up the river — we can take it — " 
 
 Ana hesitated. "But — leave him? He may — " 
 
 "Yes, Anita, yes; leave him with God!" pleaded the girl 
 excitedly. "Come away, Anita — " 
 
 "But where, child?" asked the bewildered woman. 
 
 "ToSimitil" 
 
 "Simiti! Never! Why — ^vvhy, my father would kill me!" 
 
 "No, Anita dear; he loves you; he prays for you; he wants 
 
 247 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 you! Oh, Anita, come! It is right — it is just what God has 
 planned, I know! Pin my dress together, and then hurry!" 
 
 The woman moved as if in a cloud. Mechanically she de- 
 scended the stairs and left the house, her hand tightly clasped 
 by Carmen. Dully she suffered herself to be led hurriedly to 
 the river. A boat, up-bound, was just docking. The captain 
 stood leaning over the rail and shouting his commands. Ana 
 recognized him. It was Captain Julio. 
 
 "Loado sea Dios!" murmured the weeping woman, hurry- 
 ing up the gang plank with the child. She hastened past the 
 astonished passengers to the captain and drew him to one 
 side. 
 
 "The child — " she gasped, "Rosendo Ariza's — of Simiti — • 
 leave her at Badillo — they will take her over — " 
 
 "Wait, sefiora," interrupted the captain tenderly. "Is it 
 not time for you to go hoine, too?" He laid a hand on her 
 shoulder and looked down into her streaming eyes. "Come," 
 he said quietly. And, leading them down the deck, he opened 
 the door of a vacant cabin and bade them enter. "You can 
 tell me your story when we are under way," he said, smiling 
 as he closed the door. "Bien," he muttered, his brow clouding 
 as he strode off. "I have been looking for this for some time. 
 But — the child — Ariza's — ah, the priest Diego! I think I see 
 — Carambal But we will not tarry long here!" 
 
 A few minutes later the big boat, her two long funnels 
 vomiting torrents of smoke and sparks, thrust her huge wheel 
 into the thick waters and, swinging slowly out into mid-stream, 
 turned her flat nose toward the distant falls of Tequendama. 
 In one of her aft cabins a woman lay on a cot, weeping hyster- 
 ically. Over her bent a girl, with a face such as the masters 
 have sought in vain. The tenderly whispered words might 
 have been the lingering echo of those voiced in the little moon- 
 lit death-chamber of Cartagena long agone. 
 
 "Anita dear. He is with us, right here. And His arms are 
 wide open. And He says, 'Anita, come!'" 
 
 CHAPTER 26 
 
 "13 UT, Padre dear, -why are you so surprised that Padre 
 |~j Diego did not hurt me? I would have been much more 
 surprised if he had. You are always so astonished when 
 evil doesn't happen---don't you ever look for good? Why, I 
 don't ever look for anything else! How could I when I know 
 that God is everywhere?" 
 
 248 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Jose strained her closer to himself. "The sense of evil — 
 it overwhelms me at times, carita — " 
 
 "But, Padre dear, why don't you know right then that it is 
 nothing? If you did, it would fade away, and only good would 
 overwhelm you." She nestled closer to the man and clasped 
 her arms more tightly about his neck. "Why, Padre," she 
 resumed, "I was not a bit surprised when Captain Julio came 
 and told us we were near Bodega Central, and that he could 
 see you and Juan and Lazaro sitting on the steps of the inn." 
 
 "Yes, chiquita, we were resting for a moment. If a down- 
 river boat came by we were going to take it. If not, we ex- 
 pected to go in the canoe." 
 
 "Padre dear, what did you intend to do in Banco?" 
 
 The man hesitated. "Don't speak of it, child — we — " 
 
 "Juan and Lazaro have knives. I saw them. Padre — have 
 you one, too?" 
 
 "U— chiquita— " 
 
 "Padre dear, God never fights with knives. Anita had a 
 knife; but God wouldn't let her use it. He always has better 
 ways than that, , I don't know what happened to Padre Diego, 
 except that he fell over his wicked thoughts. You know. 
 Padre dear, somewhere in the Bible you read to me that 'With 
 him is an arm of flesh; but with us is the Lord our God to 
 help us, and to fight our battles.' I thought of that when 
 Padre Diego had his arm around me and held me so tight that 
 I could hardly breathe. It was only an arm of flesh, after all, 
 and it couldn't hold me." 
 
 "Bien, Padre," interrupted Juan, coming up from the boat, 
 "if we are to reach Simiti to-night we must start at once." 
 
 "Bueno, then let us set out," returned Jose, rising. A 
 muffled sob reached his ears. He turned to the woman huddled 
 in the shadow of the door. 
 
 "Come, Ana," he said cheerily; "to-night you, will again be 
 home." 
 
 "No, Padre — I do not go with you. I — " 
 
 "Anita!" In an instant Carmen's arms were around her. 
 "When padre Rosendo sees us, you and me, why — " 
 
 "Carisimal" The woman's tears flowed fast while she 
 hugged the girl to her bosom. "No — no — he would drive me 
 from his house! No — ^let me stay here. I will get work in the 
 posada, perhaps. Or Captain Julio will take me to Honda on 
 his next trip, and get me a place — " 
 
 "Then we must ask him to get a place for us both," in- 
 terrupted Carmen, sitting calmly down beside her. "And 
 think, Anita, how sad padre Rosendo will be when he sees the 
 men come back without us!" 
 
 249 
 
 26 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Carmen! I shall throw myself into the river!" cried the 
 sorrowing woman* rising. "You don't know what it is — " 
 
 "Yes, I do, Anita," returned the girl quickly; "it is nothing 
 — ^just zero — and you can't drown it ! If it would do any good 
 we would both jump into the river — that is, if God told us to — 
 wouldn't we? But it doesn't help any to die, you know, for 
 then we would have it all to do over again." 
 
 "Ana," said Jose, laying a hand on the woman's shoulder, 
 "you do not understand her — neither do I, wholly. But if she 
 tells you to go with us to Simiti, why, I think- 1 would go. I 
 would leave it all with her. You may trust her influence with 
 Rosendo. Come." 
 
 He took her hand and led her, weeping, but no longer re- 
 sisting, down to the canoe. Carmen followed, dancing like an 
 animated sunbeam. "What fun, oh, what fun!" she chirped, 
 clapping her hands. "And just as soon as we get home we 
 will go right up to the cdrcel and let padre Rosendo out!" 
 
 "Na, chiquita," said Jose, shaking his head mournfully; 
 "we have no power to do that." 
 
 "Well, then, God has," returned the girl, nothing daunted. 
 
 Juan pushed the heavily laden canoe from its mooring, 
 and set its direction toward Simiti. Silence drew over the little 
 group, and the hours dragged while the boat crept slowly along 
 the margin of the great river. The sun had passed its meridian 
 when the little craft turned into the caiio. To Jose the change 
 brought a most grateful relief. For, though his long residence 
 in Simiti had somewhat inured him to the intense heat of 
 this low region, he had not yet learned to endure it with the 
 careless indifference of the natives. Besides, his mind was 
 filled with vivid memories of the horrors of his first river trip. 
 And he knew that every future experience on the water would 
 be tinged by them. 
 
 In the shaded cafio the sunlight, sifting through the inter- 
 locking branches of ancient palms and caobas, mellowed and 
 softened into a veil of yellow radiance that flecked the little 
 stream with splashes of gold. Juan in the prow with the pole 
 labored in silence. At times he stopped just long enough to 
 roll a huge cigar, and to feast his bright eyes upon the fair 
 girl whom he silently adored. Lazaro, as patron, sat in the 
 stern, saturnine and unimpassioned. The woman, exhausted 
 by the recent mental strain, dozed throughout the journey. 
 Carmen alone seemed alive to her environment. Every foot of 
 advance unfolded to her new delights. She sang; she chirped; 
 she mimicked the parrots ; she chattered at the excited mon- 
 keys. It was with difficulty that Jose could restrain her when 
 her sharp eyes caught the glint of brilliant Passion flowers^ and 
 orchids of gorgeous hue clinging to the dripping trees. 
 
 250 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Padre!" she exclaimed, "they are in us, you know. They 
 are not out there at all! We see our thoughts of them — and 
 lots of people wouldn't see anything beautiful about them at 
 all, just because their thoughts are not beautiful. Padre, we 
 see — ^what you said to me once — we see our interpretations of 
 God's ideas, don't we? That is what I told Padre Diego. But 
 — ^well, he will just have to see some day, won't he, Padre dear? 
 But now let us talk in English; you know, I haven't spoken it 
 for such a long time." 
 
 Jose gazed at her in rapt silence. What a rare interpreta- 
 tion of the mind divine was this child! But he wondered why 
 one so pure and beautiful should attract a mind so carnal as 
 that of Diego. And yet — 
 
 "Ah!" he mused, "it is again that law. Good always stirs 
 up its suppositional opposite. And the most abundant good 
 and the greatest purity stir up the most carnal elements of the 
 human mind. All history shows it. The greater the degree 
 of good, the greater the seeming degree of evil aroused. The 
 perfect Christ stirred the hatred of a world. Carmen arouses 
 Diego simply because of her purity. Yet she knows that he 
 can not harm her." 
 
 His eyes met the girl's, and she answered his unspoken 
 thought in the tongue which she was fast adopting. "We have 
 to love him, you know. Padre dear." 
 
 "Love whom? Diego?" 
 
 "Why, yes, of course. We can't help loving him. Oh, not 
 the 'him' that the human mind looks at, but the real 'him,' you 
 know — the 'him' that is God's image. And you know there 
 just isn't any other 'him,' now is there?" 
 
 "God above!" murmured Jose, "if I could but keep my 
 thought as straight as she does!" 
 
 "But, Padre dear, your thought is straight. You know, 
 God's thought is the only thought there really is. Any other 
 thought has the minus sign, and so it is zero. If we will always 
 think of the real Padre Diego, and love that, why, the unreal 
 one will fade away from our thought." 
 
 "Do you suppose, chiquita, that if we love him we will 
 make him repent?" 
 
 The child pondered the question for a moment. Then: 
 
 "Padre, what did you tell me once about the word 'repent' ?" 
 
 "It comes from the Greek word 'metanoia.' " 
 
 "Yes," she reflected; "but what did you say that — " 
 
 "Oh, yes, I told you it meant a complete and radical change 
 of thought." 
 
 "Well!" she exclaimed, her eyes brightening. 
 
 Jose waited expectantly. It was heaven to have this girl 
 
 251 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 before him and to drink in the naive expressions of her active 
 mind. 
 
 "Padre dear, when John the baptiser said, 'Repent, for the 
 kingdom of heaven is at hand,' did he mean to tell the people 
 that they must have a complete change of thought?" 
 
 Jose laughed. And then he grew serious. "Chiquita," he 
 answered, "I have no doubt he meant just that. For you have 
 taught me that there can be no salvation without such a com- 
 plete and radical change." 
 
 "No," she said with quick emphasis; "for God is mind, you 
 know. And His thought is the only real thought there is or 
 can be. The thoughts of mortals are the opposites of His 
 thoughts, and so they are illusions, and, like all lies, must 
 pass away. If people want to be immortal, they must think 
 as God thinks, for He is immortal. They must stop thinking 
 that there is any power but God. They must stop letting in 
 thoughts of sickness, of sin, of wickedness, and all those things 
 that in English you call 'discord.' God says in the Bible, 'As 
 the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my thoughts 
 higher than your thoughts.' Well, God is immortal and per- 
 fect. And if we want to be like Him we must think His 
 thoughts. For our thoughts become — things. Don't you see?" 
 
 Jose's face clouded. "I see, chiquita — sometimes very 
 clearly — and then again I don't see," he said slowly. 
 
 "You do see!" she insisted, getting up on her knees and 
 facing him. "And you see as God sees! And if you hold this 
 thought always, why, it will — it will be — " 
 
 "Externalized; is that what you are trying to say?" he 
 suggested. 
 
 "Yes, just that. Jesus said, 'As a man thinketh in his 
 heart, so is he.' " 
 
 "But, Carmen — I — What you say is doubtless true in 
 essence — ^but I think you have not grasped it all — thqre are so 
 many gaps that your simple little system of religion does not 
 fill in — so many great questions that you do not answer. I 
 see, in part — and then, again, I don't see at all. And when 
 you were stolen away from Simiti I saw nothing but the evil 
 — and it nearly killed me!" 
 
 The girl studied him for a few moments. The man had 
 always been an enigma to her. She could not understand a 
 nature that soared into the spiritual empyrean' one moment, 
 and in the next fell floundering into the bottomless pit of 
 materialism. The undulating curve which marked the de- 
 velopment of the Rincon mind was to her a thing incompre- 
 hensible. 
 
 "Padre dear," she said at length, a little sadly. "When you 
 
 252 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 look at the first chapter in the Bible and read there how God 
 made everything, and man in His image, in the image of Mind, 
 you see, and are very happy. But when you go on to the 
 second chapter and read how the Lord God — not God, but the 
 Lord God — made a man of dirt, and how this dirt man listened 
 to his false thoughts and fell, why, then you are unhappy. 
 Don't you see any difference between them? Can't you see 
 that one is a, story of the real creation; and the other is the 
 human mind's interpretation of the creation — an interpreta^ 
 tion made according to the way the human mind thinks the 
 creating ought to have been in matter? You told me this 
 yourself. And the second chapter shows how far the human 
 mind can go^it shows how limited it is. The human mind 
 couldn't get any farther than that^— couldn't make a man out 
 of anything but dirt. It couldn't understarid the spiritual 
 creation. And so it made a creation of its own. It couldn't 
 understand God; and so it made a Lord God, just like itself. 
 Can't you see? Padre dear, can't you? And if you see, can't 
 you stick to it and live it, until all the unreal passes away?" 
 
 Jose smiled into her earnest little face. "I will never cease 
 to try, chiquita," he said. "But we were talking about loving 
 Diego, weren't we? Yes, you are right, we must try to love 
 him, for the good Jesus said we must love our enemies." 
 
 "But, if we love everybody, then we haven't any enemies. 
 You can't love a real enemy — and so there aren't any real ones. 
 We see in other people only what is in our own thought. If 
 we see evil as real, why, then we will see bad men and women 
 all around us, for we only look at our thoughts. But, if we 
 look only at God's thoughts — Padre dear, I didn't see anything 
 but God's thought when Padre Diego had me in his arms. I 
 knew it wasn't real, but was just the human way of looking 
 at things. And I knew that love was the great principle of 
 everything, and that it just couldn't fail, any more than the 
 principle gf algebra could fail to solve my problems. Well," 
 she concluded with a little sigh, "it didn't." 
 
 "Dear little girl, you must be patient, very patient, with 
 your blundering old Padre Jose. He is groping for the light — " 
 
 In an instant, throwing the canoe into imminent danger of 
 upsetting, the impulsive girl had hurled herself into his lap 
 and clasped her arms about his neck. Juan and Lazaro by 
 a quick and skillful effort kept the craft upright. 
 
 "Oh, Padre dear!" she cried, "I didn't mean to say a word 
 that would make you unhappy — Padre dear, I love you so! 
 Padre, look at your little girl, and tell her that you love her!" 
 
 He clasped her fiercely. "No — no!" he murmured, "I — I 
 must not — and — yet — chiquita — I adore you!'' He buried his 
 face in her shoulder. 
 
 253 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Juan made a wry mouth as he looked at the girl in the 
 priest's arms. Then he suggested that a separation would more 
 evenly balance the boat. Carmen laughed up at him, but 
 slipped down into the keel and sat with her head propped 
 against Jose's knees. 
 
 "Padre d?ar," she said, looking up at him with twinkling 
 eyes, "I heard Lazaro say a little while before we started that 
 he had lived many years in Simiti, and that it had always 
 been very quiet until you came." 
 
 "Ay de mi!" sighed 3os&. "I can readily believe that the 
 whole world was quiet until I entered it." 
 
 "But, Padre, perhaps you had to come into it to shake it up." 
 
 He laughed. "Chiquita," he said, "if ever you go out into 
 it, with your radical views regarding God and man; and if the 
 stupid old wortd will give ear to you, there will be such a 
 shaking up as it has never experienced since — " 
 
 "Padre dear," she interrupted, "I am not going out into 
 the world. I shall stay in Simiti— with you." 
 
 He looked down at her, tenderly, wistfully. And then, 
 while her words still echoed through his mind, a great sigh 
 escaped him. 
 
 Dusk had closed in upon them when the canoe emerged 
 into the quiet lake. Huge vampire bats, like demons incarnate, 
 flouted their faces as they paddled swiftly toward the distant 
 town. Soft evening calls drifted across the placid waters from 
 the slumbering jungle. Carmen's rich voice mingled with 
 them; and Juan and Lazaro, catching the inspiration, broke 
 into a weird, uncanny boating song, such as is heard only 
 among these simple folk. As they neared the town the song 
 of the bogus changed into a series of loud, yodelling halloos; 
 and when the canoe grated upon the shaly beach. Dona Maria 
 and a score of others were there to welcome the returned 
 travelers. 
 
 At the sight of Ana, a murmur ran through the crowd. 
 Doiia Maria turned to the woman. 
 
 "It is Anita, madre dear," Carmen quickly announced, as 
 she struggled out of Doiia Maria's arms and took the confused 
 Ana by the hand. 
 
 The light of recognition came into Doiia Maria's eyes. 
 Quietly, and without demonstration, she went to the shrinking 
 woman and, taking the tear-stained face in her hands, im- 
 pressed a kiss upon each cheek. "Bien," she said in a low, 
 tender voice, "we have waited long for you, daughter. And 
 now let us go home." 
 
 » ♦ » ♦ » t 
 
 The glow of dawn had scarce begun to creep timidly across 
 
 254 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the arch of heaven when Fernando knocked at the portal of 
 Rosendo's house and demanded the custody of Carmen. Jose 
 was already abroad. 
 
 "And now, Fernando," demanded the priest, "what new 
 outrage is this?" 
 
 The constable flushed with embarrassment. "Na, Padre, a 
 thousand pardons — ^but it is the order of the Alcalde, and I 
 only obey. But — you may knock me down," he added eagerly, 
 "and then I can return to him and say that I could not take the 
 girl, even by force!" The honest fellow, ashamed of his mis- 
 sion, hung his head. Jose seized his hand. 
 
 "Fernando!" he cried, "what say the people of Simiti?" 
 
 "They are with you. Padre. They would demand Rosendo's 
 release, if there were proof that the girl — " 
 
 "Good, then ! we have the proof," brcike in Jose. "Rosendo 
 knows of our return?" 
 
 "Yes, the guard informed him this morning. The Alcalde, 
 you know, permits no one to approach the prisoner." 
 
 "And does he know that Ana is here?" 
 
 "The guard did not tell him, for fear of exciting the old 
 man. Hombre! I think there is no one in town who would 
 venture to tell Rosendo that." 
 
 "Bien pues, Fernando, I think the time has come! Go 
 quietly back and summon every one to a meeting in the town 
 hall at once. Tell them—" 
 
 "Bien, Padre, I shall know what to tell them. But," anx- 
 iously, "Don Mario has the power to — " 
 
 "And we have a greater power," quickly replied the priest, 
 his thought dwelling on Carmen. 
 
 An hour later the town hall was a babel of clacking tongues. 
 Men, women and children hurried, chattering, to and fro, ex- 
 changing diverse views and speculating eagerly on the probable 
 outcome of the meeting. Jose stood before them, with Car- 
 men's hand clasped tightly in his, Don Mario, purple and 
 trembling with rage, was perched upon a chair, vainly trying 
 to get the ear of the people. 
 
 In the midst of thie hubbub a hush fell suddenly over the 
 concourse. All heads turned, and all eyes fastened upon Ana, 
 as she entered the room and moved timidly toward Jos6. The 
 people fell back to make a passage for her. Her shoulders 
 were bent, and her face was covered with a black mantilla. 
 
 Don Mario, as his glance fell upon her, again attempted to 
 address the multitude. A dozen voices bade him cease. A 
 strong arm from behind pushed him from the chair. His 
 craven heart began to quake, and he cast anxious glances to- 
 ward the single exit. 
 
 255 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 Gently removing the mantilla from the face of the woman, 
 Jos6 turned her toward the people. "Friends!" he said in a 
 loud, penetrating voice, "behold the work of Diego!" 
 
 He paused for the effect which he knew would be made 
 upon this impressionable people. Then, when the loud mur- 
 mur had passed, he drew Carmen out before him and, pointing 
 to her, said dramatically, "And shall we also throw this inno- 
 cent child to the wolf?" 
 
 The assembly broke into a roar. Fists were shaken under 
 the Alcalde's nose, and imprecations were hurled at him from 
 all sides. Don Mario drew his soiled handkerchief and mopped 
 his steaming brow. Then his voice broke out in a shriek: 
 "The soldiers — this day I shall summon them — it is a riot!" 
 
 "Caramba! He speaks truth!" cried a voice from the 
 crowd. The babel commenced anew. 
 
 "The soldiers! Carambal Let Diego have his child!" 
 
 "Maldita!" 
 
 "Who says it is not his?" 
 
 "I do!" 
 
 It was Ana. Clasping Jose's arm to steady herself, she had 
 turned to confront the excited assembly. 
 
 Silence descended upon them all. Jose held up his hand. 
 A sob escaped the woman. Then : 
 
 "The priest Diego had a child — a girl. Her name — it was 
 — Carmen. The child is — dead." 
 
 "Carambal girl, how know you that?" shrilled a woman's 
 excited voice. 
 * "I know, because I-^was^ — its^ — mother!" 
 
 Pandemonium burst upon the room at the woman's words. 
 Don Mario started for the door, but found his way blocked. 
 "Diego had other children!" he shouted; "and this girl is one 
 of them!" 
 
 "It is false!" cried Ana in a loud voice. "I have lived with 
 him eight years! I know from his own lips that I speak the 
 truth! See what he has done to me! Would I lie?" 
 
 "To the carcell Release Rosendo!" 
 
 "We will write to the President at Bogota! Don Mario 
 must be removed!" 
 
 "Caramba! Such an Alcalde!" 
 
 "Let him send for the soldiers, if he wishes to die!" 
 
 •'To the cdrcell" 
 
 As a unit the fickle people streamed from the room and 
 started for the jail. Don Mario was borne along on the heav- 
 ing tide. Jose and Carmen followed; but Ana fell back and 
 returned to the house of Rosendo. 
 
 The guard at the jail, seeing the concourse approaching, 
 
 256 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 threw down his machete and fled. Rosendo's eyes were big 
 with speculation, though his heart beat apprehensively. The 
 people jammed into the small hut until it swayed and threat- 
 ened to collapse. 
 
 "The key to the lock — Carambal the guard has it!" 
 
 "Catch him!" 
 
 "No! bring a barral" 
 
 Juan quickly produced a long iron bar, and with a few 
 lusty efforts sprung the stocks. A dozen hands lifted the 
 cramped Rosendo out and stood him upon his feet. Carmfen 
 squirmed through the crowd and threw herself into his arms. 
 
 Then, with shouts and gesticulations, a triumphal proces- 
 sion quickly formed, and the bewildered and limping Rosendo 
 was escorted down the main street of the town and across the 
 plaza to his home. At the door of the house Jose turned and, 
 holding up a hand, bade the people quietly disperse and leave 
 the liberated man to enjoy undisturbed the sacred reunion with 
 his family. With a parting shout, the people melted quickly 
 away, and quiet soon reigned again over the ancient town. 
 
 "Bien, Padre," said Rosendo, pausing before his door to 
 clasp anew the priest's hand, "you have not told me what has 
 caused this. Was it the little Carmen — " . 
 
 He stopped short. Glancing in at the door, his eyes had 
 fallen upon Ana. To Jose, hours seemed suddenly compressed 
 into that tense moment. 
 
 Slowly Rosendo entered the house and advanced to the 
 shrinking woman. Terror spread over her face, and she 
 clutched her throat as the big man stalked toward her. Then, 
 like a flash. Carmen darted in front of her and faced Rosendo. 
 
 "It is Anita, padre dear," she said, looking up into his set 
 face, and clasping his hand in both of hers. "She has come 
 home again. Aren't we glad!" 
 
 Rosendo seemed not to see the child. His voice came cold 
 and harsh. "Bien, outcast, is your lover with you, that I may 
 strangle him, too?" He choked and swallowed hard. 
 
 "Padre!" cried Carmen, putting both her hands against 
 him. "See ! Those bad thoughts nearly strangled you ! Don't 
 let them get in! Don't!" 
 
 "Bien, girl!" snarled the angry man, still addressing the 
 cowering woman. "Did you tire of him, that you now sneak 
 home? Or — Caramba!" as Ana rose and stood before him, 
 "you come here that your illegal brat may be born ! Not under 
 my roof! Santa Maria! Never! Take it back to him! Take 
 it back, I say!" he shouted, raising his clenched fist as if to 
 strike her. 
 
 Carmen turned swiftly and threw herself upon the woman. 
 Looking over her shoulder, she addressed the raging man: 
 
 257 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Padre Rosendo! this is not your house! It is God's! He 
 only lets you have it, because He is good to you! Shame On 
 you, for daring to drive Anita away — your own little girl!" 
 Her voice rose shrill, and her words cut deep into the old man's 
 embittered heart. 
 
 "Shame on you, padre Rosendo!" quickly flowed the scorch- 
 ing words. "If God were like you He would drive you from 
 the house, too! Are you so much better than the good Jesus 
 that you can drive away a woman who sins? Shame on you, 
 pa'dre! Are you better than the good father who was so glad 
 to see his prodigal son? If God were to punish you for your 
 sins, would He even let you live? Did He not set you free this 
 very morning? And do you now thank Him by driving your 
 little girl from her own home? Do you know that it was Anita 
 who made you free, and who brought me here? God used her 
 to do that. And is this the way you 4hank Him? Then you 
 will lose us both, for we will not stay with you!" 
 
 Jose stepped up and took Rosendo's arm. Carmen turned 
 about and continued her scoriation: 
 
 "Padre Rosendo, if the good, pure God was willing to use 
 Anita to save me from Padre Diego and bring me back to you, 
 are you so wicked and so ungrateful that you throw His love 
 back in His face? Shame on you, padre! Shame! Shame!" 
 
 "Caramba!" cried Rosendo, tears bursting from his eyes. 
 "She has fouled my name — ^it was a good name, though my 
 parents were slaves — ^it was a good name — and she blackened 
 it—she—" 
 
 "Padre Rosendo, there are only two names that have never 
 been blackened! Your human name is nothing — it is zero — 
 it counts for foolishness with God! You yourself are making 
 your name blacker now than Anita ever did ! She repents, and 
 comes to her father; and he is so much more wicked than she 
 that he drives her out ! — " 
 
 "Enough, Carmen, child!" interrupted Jose. "Come, Ro- 
 sendo; go into the parish house! Carmen, go with bim!" 
 
 Carmen hesitated. Then a smile lighted up her face, and 
 she reached up and took Rosendo's hand. Together they 
 passed silently out and into the priest's house. 
 
 Ana sank to the floor, where she buried her face in her 
 hands and wept violently. 
 
 "Wait, Ana," said Jose, tenderly stroking the unhappy 
 woman's hair. "Wait. They will soon return. And you shall 
 remain here, where you belong." 
 
 A half hour passed. Then JosS, wondering, went quietly 
 to the door of his house and looked in. Rosendo sat at the 
 table, with Carmen on his knees. 
 
 258 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "And, padre," the child was saying, "the good Jesus told 
 the woman not to sin any more; and she went away happy. 
 Padre, God has told Anita not to sin any more — and she has 
 come to us to be happy. We are going to make her so, aren't 
 we? Padre Diego couldn't hurt me, you know, for God 
 wouldn't let him. And he hasn't hurt Anita — God wouldn't 
 let him keep her — wouldn't let her stay with him. Don't you 
 see, padre? And we have got to be like Him — we are like Him, 
 really. But now we have got to show it, to prove it, you know." 
 
 Rosendo's head was bent over the girl. Neither of them 
 saw Jose. The child went on with increased animation: 
 
 "And, padre dear, God sends us Anita's little baby for us to 
 love and protect. Oh, padre, if the little one is a boy, can't we 
 call it Jose?" 
 
 "Yes, chiquita," Jose heard the old man murmur brokenly, 
 
 "And — ^padre, if it is a girl — what shall we call it?" 
 
 The man's arm tightened about her. "We — ^we will call it 
 — Carmencita," he whispered. 
 
 The girl clapped her hands. . "Can't you see, padre, that 
 God sends us Anita's baby so that Padre Diego shall not have 
 it? And now let's go and tell her so, right away!" she cried, 
 jumping down, 
 
 Jose slipped quickly back and stood beside the woman when 
 Carmen and Rosendo entered the room. The old man went 
 directly to his daughter, and, taking her in his brawny arms, 
 raised her from the floor and strained her to his breast. Tears 
 streamed down his swart cheeks, and the words he would litter 
 choked and hung in his throat. 
 
 "Padre," whispered the delighted child, "shall I tell her 
 our names for the baby?" 
 
 Jose turned and stole softly from the room. Divine Love 
 was there, and its dazzling effulgence blinded him. In the 
 quiet of his own chamber he sought to understand the marvel- 
 ous goodness of God to them that serve Him. 
 
 CHAPTER 27 
 
 THE reversal of a life-current is not always effected sud- 
 denly, nor amid the din of stirring events, nor yet in an 
 environment that we ourselves might choose as an appro- 
 priate setting. It comes in the fullness of time, and amid such 
 scenes as the human mind which undergoes the transforma- 
 tion may see externalized within its own consciousness by the 
 working of the as yet dimly perceived laws of thought. 
 
 259 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Perhaps some one, skilled in the discernment of mental 
 laws and their subtle, irresistible working, might have pre- 
 dicted the fate which overtook the man Jose, the fulsome de- 
 tails of which are herein being recounted. Perhaps such a 
 one might say in retrospect that the culmination of years of 
 wrong thinking, of false beliefs closely cherished, of attach- 
 ment to fear, to doubt, and to wrong concepts of God, had been 
 externalized at length in eddying the man upon this far verge 
 of civilization, still clinging feebly to the tattered fragments of 
 a blasted life. But it would have been a skilled prognostician, 
 indeed, who could have foreseen the renewal of this wasted 
 life in that of the young girl, to whom during the past four 
 yearis Jose de Rincon had been transferring his own unreal- 
 ized hopes and his vast learning, but without the dross of in- 
 herited or attached beliefs, and without taint of his native 
 vacillation and indecision of mind. 
 
 ! For what he had been striving to fit her, he knew not. But 
 in a vaguely outlined way he knew that he was being used as 
 a tool to shape in some degree the mental development of this 
 strange girl. Nor, indeed, as the years passed, did she con- 
 tinue to seem so strange to him. On the contrary, he now 
 thought it more marvelous by far that the world, after nine- 
 teen centuries of Christianity, did not think and act more as 
 did this girl, whose religious instruction he knew to have been 
 garnered at the invisible hand of God. That she must some 
 day leave him, despite her present earnest protestations, he 
 felt to be inevitable. And the thought pierced his soul like a 
 lance. But he could not be certain that with maturity she 
 would wish to remain always in the primitive environment in 
 which she had been nurtured. Nor could he, even if she were 
 willing, immolate her upon the barb of his own selfishness. 
 
 As for himself, the years had but seemed to increase the 
 conviction that he could never leave the Church, despite his 
 anomalous position and despite his renewed life — unless, in- 
 deed, she herself cast him forth. Each tenderly hopeful letter 
 from his proud, doting mother only added to this conviction 
 by emphasizing the obstacles opposing such a course. Her 
 declining years were now spent among the mental pictures 
 which she hourly drew upon the canvas of her imagination, 
 pictures in which her beloved son, chastened and purified, had 
 at length come into the preferment which had always awaited 
 loyal scions of the house of Rincon. Hourly she saw the day 
 draw nearer when he should be restored to her yearning arms. 
 Each dawn threw its first rays upon his portrait, which hung 
 where her waking eyes might open upon it. Each night the 
 shadow cast by the candle which always burned beneath it 
 
 260 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 seemed to her eager sight to crown that fair head with a 
 bishop's mitre — a cardinal' Si, hat — aye, at times she even saw 
 the triple crown of the Vicar of Christ resting upon those raven 
 locks. Jose knew this. If her own pen did not always correct- 
 ly delineate her towering hopes, his astute uncle did not fail 
 to fill in whatever hiatus remained. And the pressure of filial 
 devotion and pride of race at times completely smothered within 
 him the voice of Truth which Carmen continually sounded, 
 and made him resolve often that on the day when she should 
 leave him he would bury his head in the lap of Mother Church 
 and submit without further resistance to the sable veil of as- 
 sumed authority which he knew she would draw across his 
 mind. Convincing as were the proofs which had come to him 
 of the existence of a great demonstrable principle which the 
 Christ had sought to make a dull world recognize, nevertheless 
 he had as yet failed to rise permanently above the mesmerism 
 of human belief, which whispered into his straining ears that 
 he must not strive to progress beyond his understanding, lest, 
 in the attempt to gain too rapidly, he lose all. To sink into 
 the arms of Mother Church and await the orderly revelation of 
 Truth were less dangerous now than a precipitate severance 
 of all ties and a launching forth into strange seas with an 
 untried compass. 
 
 The arguments to which he listened were insidious. True, 
 they reasoned, he had seemed to see the working of mental 
 law in his own restoration to health when he had first come to 
 Simiti. He had seemed to see Rosendo likewise restored. But 
 these instances, after all, might have been casual. That Car- 
 men had had aught to do with them, no one could positively 
 affirm. True, he had seen her protected in certain unmistak- 
 able ways. But — others were likewise protected, even where 
 there had been no thought of an immanent, sheltering God. 
 True, the incident of the epidemic in Simiti two years before 
 had impressed upon him the serious consequences of fear, 
 and the blighting results of false belief. He had profited by 
 that lesson. But he could not hope suddenly to empty his 
 mentality of its content of human thought; nor did wisdom 
 advise the attempt. He had' at first tried to rise too rapidly. 
 His frequent backsliding frightened and warned him. 
 
 Thus, while the days sped by, did the priest's thought ebb 
 and flow. As morn broke, and the gallant sun drove the cow- 
 ardly shadows of night across the hills, his own courage rose, 
 and he saw in Carmen the pure reflection of the Mind which 
 was in Christ Jesus. As night fell, and darkness slunk back 
 again and held the field, so returned the legion of fears and 
 doubts that battled for his soul. Back and forth in the arena 
 
 261 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 of his consciousness strove the combatants, while he rushed 
 irresolutely to and fro, now bearing' the banner of the powers 
 of light, now waving aloft, though with sinking heart, the 
 black flag of the carnal host. For a while after his arrival in 
 Simiti he had seemed to rise rapidly into the consciousness 
 of good as all-in-all. But the strain which had been constantly 
 upon him had prevented the full recognition of all that Carmen 
 saw, and each rise was followed by a fall that left him for long 
 periods immersed in despair. 
 
 Following the return of Carmen and the ripple of excite- 
 ment which her abduction had spread over the wonted calm 
 of Simiti, the old town settled back again into its accustomed 
 lethargy, and Josd and the girl resumed their interrupted 
 work. From Ana it was learned that Diego had not voiced 
 the command of Wenceslas in demanding the girl; and when 
 this became known the people rose in; a body to her support. 
 Don Mario, though he threatened loudly, knew in his heart 
 he was beaten. He knew, likewise, that any further hostile 
 move on his part would result in a demand by the people for 
 his removal from office. He therefore retired sulking to the 
 seclusion of his patio, where he sat down patiently to awart 
 the turn of events. 
 
 Rosendo, his great heart softened toward his erring daugh- 
 ter, again rejoiced in the reunion of his broken family circle. 
 But his soul burned within him as, day after day, he saw Ana 
 move silently about like a sorrow incarnate. At times, when 
 perchance he would come upon her huddled in a corner and 
 weeping qiiietly, he would turn away, cursing deeply and 
 swearing fulsome vengeance upon the lecherous beast who 
 had wrought her ruin. 
 
 "Padre," he one day said to Jose, "I shall kill him — I know 
 it. The girl's suffering is breaking my heart. He is like an evil 
 cloud hanging always over my family. I hate him! I hate 
 him, as the devil hates the light! And I shall kill him. Be 
 prepared." And Jose offered no remonstrance, for the case 
 lay not in his hands. 
 
 Carmen again entered upon her interrupted studies with 
 ardent enthusiasm. And her first demand was that she be 
 allowed to plunge into a searching study of the Bible. "Padre," 
 she exclaimed, "it is a wonderful book! Why-— do the people 
 in the world know what a book this is? For if they did, they 
 would never be sick or unhappy again!" 
 
 He knew not how to answer her. And there was no need 
 that he should. 
 
 "Padre!" Her eyes were aflame with holy light. "See! 
 Here it is^ — the whole thing ! 'Let the wicked forsake his way, 
 
 262 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 and the unrighteous man his thoughts.' But — don't the people 
 know what that means?" 
 
 "Well, chiquita, and what does it mean?" he asked in- 
 dulgently. 
 
 "Why — the unrighteous man is the man who thinks wrong 
 thoughts — thoughts of power opposed to God^thoughts of sin, 
 of sickness, of accidents, and all sorts of evil things^beliefs 
 that these things are real, and that God made or caused them!" 
 
 "Bien, and you think the Bible speaks truth?" 
 
 "Padre! how can you ask that? Why, it says right here 
 that it is given by inspiration! That means that the men or 
 women who wrote it thought God's thoughts!" 
 
 "That He wrote it, you mean?" 
 
 "No, but that those who wrote it were — ^well, were cleaner 
 window-panes than other people — that they were so clean that 
 the light shone through them better than it did through 
 others." 
 
 "And what do you think now about Jesus?" he inquired. 
 
 "Why, as you once said, that he was the very cleanest 
 window-pane of all!" she quickly replied. 
 
 From that hour the Bible was the girl's constant companion. 
 Daily she pored over it, delighted, enraptured. Jos6 marveled 
 at her immediate spiritual grasp. Instead of the world's man- 
 ner of looking upon it as only a collection of beautiful promises 
 and admonitions, she saw within it the statement of a prin- 
 ciple that offered itself as a mighty tool with which to work 
 out humanity's every-day problems here and now. From the 
 first she began to make out little lists of collated scriptural 
 verses, so arranging them that she could read in them a com- 
 plete expression of an idea of God. These she would bring to 
 Jose and, perching herself upon his lap, would expound them, 
 to her own great delight and the wonder of the man who 
 listened. 
 
 "See, Padre," she said, holding up one of these lists, "it says 
 that 'in that day' whatever we ask of him will be given to us. 
 Well, 'that day' means when we have washed our window- 
 panes clean, and the light shines through so clear that we can 
 ask in His name. It means when we have stopped saying 
 that two and two are seven." 
 
 "Which means," Jose interpolated, "asking in his char- 
 acter." 
 
 "Yes," she replied, "for then we will be just like him. And 
 then whatever we ask 'believing' will be given to us, for 'be- 
 lieving' will then be 'understanding,' will it not? When we 
 know — really know — that we have things, why — why, we have 
 them, that's all!" 
 
 263 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 She did not wait for his reply, but went on enthusiastic- 
 ally: 
 
 "You know, Padre, in order to be like him we have got to 
 'seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness' — His 
 right-thinking. Well, Jesus said the kingdom of God was 
 within us. Of course it is, for it is all a question of right- 
 thinking. When we think right, then our right thoughts will 
 be — ^what you said — " 
 
 "Externalized," he supplied. 
 
 "Yes. We will see them all around us, instead of seeing, 
 as we do now, a lot -of jumbled-up thoughts of good and evil 
 which we call people and things. They will all be good then. 
 And then will be the time vvhen 'God shall wipe away all tears.' 
 It is, as you say in English, 'up to us' to bring this about. It 
 is not for God to do it at all. Don't you see that He has already 
 done His part? He has made everything, and 'behold it was 
 very good.' Well, He doesn't have to do it all over again, does 
 He? No. But we have got to wash our windows clean and let 
 in the light that comes from Him. That light comes from Him 
 all the time, just as the beams come from the sun, without 
 ever stopping. We never have to ask the sun to shine, do we? 
 And neither do we have to ask God to be good to us, nor tell 
 Him what we think He ought to do for us. We only have to 
 know that He is good, to us and to everything, all the time." 
 
 "Yes, chiquita, we must be truly baptised." 
 
 "That is what it means to be baptised. Padre — just wash- 
 ing our window-panes so clean that the light will come in." 
 
 "And that light, little one, is truth. It certainly is a new 
 way of looking at it, at least, chiquita." 
 
 "But, Padre, it is the only way," she persisted. 
 
 "Bien, I would not say that you were mistaken. Carmen." 
 
 "No, Padre, for we can prove it. And, look here," she con- 
 tinued, referring to her list. "If the kingdom of heaven is 
 within us, then everything that comes to us in life comes from 
 within, and not from without. And so, things never happen, 
 do they? Don't you see?" 
 
 "I see," he replied seriously, "that from the mouths of babes 
 and sucklings comes infinite wisdom." 
 
 "Well, Padre dear, .wisdom is God's light, and it comes 
 through any one who is clean. It doesn't make any difference < 
 how old or young that person is. Years mean nothing but — 
 but zero." 
 
 "How can you say that, chiquita?" 
 
 "Why, Padre, is God old?" y 
 
 "No. He is always the same." 
 
 "And we are really like Him?" 
 
 264 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "The real 'we'— yes." 
 
 "Well, the unreal 'we' is already zero. Didn't you yourself 
 say that the human, mortal man was a product of false thought, 
 thought that was the opposite of God's thought, and so no 
 thought at all? Didn't you say that such thought was illusion 
 — the lie about God and what He has made? Then isn't the 
 human 'we' zero?" ,! 
 
 "Well — hut— ^chiquita,' it is often hard for me to see any- 
 thing hut this sort of 'we,' " returned the man dejectedly. 
 
 "Oh, Padre!" she entreated,.. "why will you not try to look 
 at something else than the human man? Look at God's man, 
 the image of infinite mind. You have got to do it, you know, 
 some time. Jesus said so. He said that every man would have 
 to overcome. That means turning away from the thoughts 
 that are externalized as sin and sickness and evil, and looking 
 only at God's thoughts — and, what is more, sticking to them!" 
 
 "Yes," dubiously, "I suppose we must some time overcome 
 every belief in anything opposed to God." 
 
 "Well, but need that make you unhappy? It is just because 
 you still cling to the belief that there is other power than God 
 that you get so discouraged and mixed up. Can't you let go? 
 Try it! Why, I would try it even if a whole mountain fell on 
 me!" 
 
 And Jose could but clasp the earnest girl in his arms and 
 vow that he would try again as never before. 
 
 Meantime, while Jose and his little student-teacher were 
 delving into the inexhaustible treasury of the Word; while the 
 peaceful days came into their livies and went out again almost 
 unperceived, the priest Diego left the bed upon which he had 
 been stretched for many weeks, and hobbled painfully about 
 upon his scarcely mended ankle. While a prisoner upon his 
 couch his days had been filled with torture. Try as he might, 
 he could not beat down the vision which constantly rose before 
 him, that of the beautiful girl who had been all but his. He 
 cursed; he raved; he vowed the foulest vengeance. And then 
 he cried piteously, as he lay chained to his bed — cried for some- 
 thing that seemed to take human shape in her. He protested 
 that he loved her; that he adored her; that without her he was 
 but a blasted cedar. His nurses fled his bedside. His physician 
 stopped his ears. Only Don Antonio was found low enough in 
 thought to withstand the flow of foul language which issued 
 from the baffled Diego's thick lips while he moved about in 
 attendance Upon the unhappy priest's needs. 
 
 Then came from the acting-Bishopj Wenceslas, a mandate 
 commissioning Diego upon a religio-political mission to the 
 
 265 
 
 27 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 interior city of Medellin. The now recovered priest smiled 
 grimly when he read it. Then he summoned Ricardo. 
 
 "Prepare yourself, amigo," he said, "for a work of the Lord. 
 I go into the interior. You accompany me as far as Badillo, 
 where we disembark for stinking Simiti. And, amigo, do you 
 secure a trustworthy companion. The work may be heavy. 
 Meantime, my blessing and absolution." 
 
 Then he sat down and despatched a long letter to Don 
 Mario. 
 
 CHAPTER 28 
 
 "X) OSENDO," said Jose one morning shortly thereafter, as 
 J\^ the old man entered the parish house for a little chat, 
 "a Decree has been issued recently by the Sacred Con- 
 gregation of the Holy OfiBce whereby, instead of the cloth 
 scapulary which you are wearing, a medal may be substituted. 
 I have received several from Cartagena. Will you exchange 
 yours?" 
 
 "Cierto, Padre — but," he hesitated, "is the new one just 
 as—" 
 
 "To be sure, amigo. It carries the same indulgences. See," 
 exhibiting the medal. "The Sacred Heart and the blessed Vir- 
 gin. But I have arranged it to wear about the neck." 
 
 Rosendo knelt reverently and crossed himself while Jose 
 hung the new scapulary over his head. The old man beamed 
 his joy, "Caramba!" he exclaimed, rising, "but I believe this 
 one will keep off more devils than that old cloth thing you made 
 for me!" 
 
 "Why, Rosendo!" admonished Jose, repressing a smile, "did 
 I not bless that one before the altar?" 
 
 "Cierto, Padre, and I beg a thousand pardons. It was the 
 .blessing, wasn't it? Not the cloth. But this one," regarding 
 it reverently, "this one — " 
 
 "Oh, yes, this one," put in Jose, "carries the blessing of 
 His Grace, acting-Bishop Wenceslas." 
 
 "And a Bishop is always very holy, is he not, Padre?" 
 queried Rosendo. "It makes no difference who he is, for the 
 office makes him holy, is it not so. Padre?" 
 
 "Oh, without doubt," returned Jose, his thought reverting 
 to the little Maria and the babe which for four years he had 
 been supporting in distant Cartagena. 
 
 "Na, Padre," remonstrated Rosendo, catching the insinua- 
 tion, "we must not speak ill of the Bishop, lest he be a Saint to- 
 morrow! But, Padre," he went on, changing the topic, "I 
 
 266 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 came to tell you that Don Luis has given me a contract to cut 
 wood for him on the island. A quantity, too. Hombre! I shall 
 earn much money by its terms. I set out to-morrow morning 
 before daybreak." 
 
 Jose reflected. The man's words aroused within him a 
 faint suspicion. Don Luis and the Alcalde were boon com- 
 panions. Jose wondered if in this commission he could see the 
 gloved hand of Don Mario. But he gave no hint of his thought 
 to Rosendo. 
 
 The next morning, long before sun-up, a mist lay thick over 
 the valley, so thick that Rosendo, as he made his way down to 
 the lake, scarce could distinguish the road ahead of him. The 
 dry season had passed, and the rains were now setting in. As 
 he hurried along, the old man mused dubiously on the contract 
 which Don Luis had made with him. To cut wood in the rainy 
 season ! — ^but, after all, that was no concern of his. And yet — 
 why had Padre Josd grown suddenly quiet when he learned of 
 the contract yesterday? His bare feet fell softly upon the 
 shales, and he proceeded more cautiously as he neared the 
 water's edge. 
 
 "Hombre!" he muttered, striving to penetrate the mist; 
 "only a loco ventures out on the lake in such weather!" 
 
 He reached the boat, and placed in it the rope and axe 
 which he had brought. Then, still troubled in thought, he sat 
 down on the edge of the canoe and dropped into a puzzled 
 meditation. 
 
 Suddenly through the fog he heard a sound. Somebody was 
 approaching. A fisherman, perhaps. But fishermen do not go 
 out on the lake in dense fogs, he. remembered. The tread 
 sounded nearer. He waited, speculating. Then through the 
 mist loomed the thick body of a man. Straining his eyes, Ro- 
 sendo recognized Padre Diego. 
 
 With a bound the old man was upon his feet. His thick 
 arm shot out like a catapult; and his great list, meeting Diego 
 squarely upon the temple, felled him like an ox. 
 
 For a moment Rosendo stood over the prostrate priest, like 
 a lion above its prey. Then he reached into the canoe and drew 
 out the axe. Holding it aloft, he stood an instant poised above 
 the senseless man; then with a mighty swing he whirled about 
 and hurled it far out into the lake. He seemed suddenly bereft 
 of his senses. Incoherent muttering issued from his trembling 
 lips. He looked about in bewilderment. A thought seemed 
 to impress him. He took the rope from the boat and quickly 
 bound Diego hand and foot. This done, he picked up the un- 
 conscious priest and tossed him into the canoe as if he had 
 been a billet of wood. Jumping in after him, he hastily pushed 
 
 267 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 off from the shore and paddled vigorously in the direction of 
 the island. Why he was doing this he had not the faintest 
 idea. 
 
 It was all the work of a few seconds; yet when his reason 
 came again Rosendo found himself far out in the thick fog, 
 and his prisoner moaning softly as consciousness slowly re- 
 turned. The sense of direction which these sons of the jungle 
 possess is almost infallible, and despite the watery cloud which 
 enveloped him, the old man held his course undeviatingly to- 
 ward the distant isle, into the low, muddy shore of which his 
 boat at length forced its way undei- the impulse of his great 
 arms. 
 
 The island, a low patch a few acres in extent, lay far out 
 in the lake like a splotch of green paint on a plate of glass. Its 
 densely wooded surface, rising soft and oozy only a few feet 
 above the water, was destitute of human habitation, but af- 
 forded a paradise for swarms of crawling and flying creatures, 
 which now scattered in alarm at the approach of these early 
 visitors coming so unexpectedly out of the heavy fog. 
 
 When the canoe grounded, Rosendo sprang out and pulled 
 it well up into the mud. Then he lifted the priest out and stag- 
 gered into the thick brush, where he threw his burden heavily 
 upon the ground. Leaving his prisoner for a moment, he 
 seized his machete, and began to cut back into the brush. A 
 grunt of satisfaction came from his lipS. Returning to the now 
 conscious Diego, he grasped the rope which bound him and 
 dragged him along the newly opened trail into a little clearing 
 which lay beyond. There he propped him up against a huge 
 cedar. As he did this, Diego's mouth opened wide and a pierc- 
 ing scream issued. "Ricardo — help!" he called. 
 
 The cry echoed dismally across the desolate island. In an 
 instant Rosendo was upon him, with his knife clutched in his 
 fist. "Repeat that, cayman," he cried furiously, "and this finds 
 your wicked heart!" 
 
 The craven Diego shook with fear; but he fell silent before 
 the threat of the desperate man into whose hands he had so 
 unwittingly fallen. 
 
 Rosendo stepped back and stood before his captive, regard- 
 ing him uncertainly. Diego's quick intuition did not fail to 
 read the old man's perplexity; and his own hope revived ac- 
 cordingly. It was a pretty trick, this of Rosendo's — ^but, after 
 all, he would not dare too much. Diego gradually became easier 
 in mind. He even smiled unctuously at his captor. 
 
 "Bien, amigo," he said at length, "is this your customary 
 reception to visitors in your village? Carambal but what will 
 the good Bishop say when he learns that you have thus mis- 
 treated his trusted agent?" 
 
 268 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Rosendo stood before him like a statue. His thougtit was 
 confused, and it moved slowly. In the cries of the disturbed 
 birds he seemed now to hear the warning voice of Carmen. In 
 the watery vapor that rolled over him he seemed to feel the 
 touch of her soft, restraining hand. 
 
 "Bien, compadre," purred Diego, "would it not be well for 
 you to loosen this bit of thread, that we may make our way 
 back to the village? Coram fca/ but it cuts sore — and I am soft, 
 nxy friend, for I have been ill." 
 
 Rosendo's wrath flared up anew. "What made you ill, 
 cayman?" he shbuted, drawing nearer to the shrinking Diego 
 and shaking a great fist in his face. "What made you ill, buz- 
 zard? Caramba! I would that your illness had carried you 
 off and saved me the task of sending ybu down to purgatory!" 
 
 Diego became thoroughly alarmed again. "But — Rosendo 
 — caro amigo, let us reason together! Ah, compadre — loosen 
 but a little this rope which cuts into my tender skin as your 
 bitter words do into my soul!" 
 
 "Na, vulture, but you will drown more quickly thus!" re- 
 torted Rosendo, his huge frame trembling with agitation. 
 
 Diego's heart stopped. Then he sought to collect himself. 
 He was in a desperate plight. But the man before him was an 
 ignorant peon. It was not the first time that he had set his 
 own wit against another's brute strength. The ever-present 
 memory of the girl became more vivid. It glowed before him. 
 What was it she had said? "You see only your thoughts of 
 me — and they are very bad!" Was he seeing now only his 
 own bad thoughts? But she had said they were unreal. And 
 this episode — Hombre! he would not be afraid. His thought 
 was vastly more powerful than that of a simple peon! He 
 smiled again at his fear. 
 
 "But, amigo," he resumed gently, "if you had wished to 
 drown me, why did you bring me here? But — ah,' well, I have 
 long been prepared to go. I have been sadly misunderstood-— ; 
 disbelieved — persecuted ! Ah, friend Rosendo, if you could 
 know what I do — ^but — Biert, it is of no consequence now. 
 Come, then, good fellow, despatch me quickly! I have made 
 my peace with God." Diego ceased talking and began to njur- 
 mur prayers. 
 
 Rosendo stared at him in amazement. The wind was being 
 taken from his sails. Diego noted the effect, and resumed his 
 speech. His voice was low and soft, and at times great tears 
 rolled down his cheeks. 
 
 "Rosendo, friend, I wish to go. I weary of life. There is 
 no stain upon my soul. And yet, I grieve that you must tar- 
 nish yours with my blood. But," his eyes brightening and his 
 
 269 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 tone becoming more animated, "Rosendo, I will pray the blessed 
 Virgin for you. When I am with her in paradise I will ask her 
 to beg the gentle Saviour to forgive you. Bien, good friend, we 
 shall all be together in heaven some day." He started his 
 orisons again, and soon was praying like a locomotive: "Ora 
 pro nobisi Santa Maria, ora pro nobis!" 
 
 He stopped and sighed gently. Rosendo stood stupidly be- 
 fore him. 
 
 "Rosendo — =1 must say this before I die — I came to Simiti to 
 see you. I was approaching the boat to hold converse with 
 you. But, you struck me — there, qud importa! And yet — it 
 was about the gentle Ana, your beautiful daughter — ■■- But, 
 wait, Rosendo — God above! hear me through — " 
 
 Rosendo had started again toward him. 
 
 "Good friend, hear me first, then kill me quickly, for I 
 much desire to go to my home above!" Diego spoke rapidly. 
 The impression must be made upon Rosendo at once, or all was 
 lost. The wily priest knew the peon mind. 
 
 "Bien, good, friend, you have misunderstood me. But I for- 
 give you. I — Rosendo — I — you will keep my secret, will you 
 not? Bien, I have left the Church. I am no longer a priest. 
 It was for good reasons that God took me from the priesthood 
 for other work in His field. Bien, the bonds of celibacy re- 
 moved, behold! my first thought is for my beautiful Ana. I 
 came to ask you for her hand. I would render legitimate her 
 unborn child. I would return to her the peace which she lost 
 when we became so deeply enamored of each other. Rosendo, 
 I have come to Simiti to lay my life before you — to yield it to 
 the mother of my child — to offer it in future service as a recom- 
 pense for the unhappiness which, the Virgin knows, I did not 
 willingly bring upon her, or you!" 
 
 Rosendo's head was now in a whirl. His eyes protruded, 
 and his mouth was agape. "But — the little Carmen — " he mut- 
 tered. 
 
 "Alas ! friend," said Diego sadly, shaking his head, while he 
 quickly grasped the, cue, "I have Ceased my endeavors to make 
 you believe that she is my child. Caramba! I can only leave 
 it to the blessed Virgin to restore her to me when we have 
 both passed the portals of death." 
 
 "You still _claim to be her father? You—!" 
 
 "Caro amigo," returned Diego gently, "in these last moments 
 I see in her the beautiful image of her blessed mother, who was 
 taken from me long before I met apd loved your Ana. But I 
 despair of enforcing my claim. I await now the reunion which 
 death alone can effect. And so, friend, be quick ! But do not 
 make me suffer. Drown me not, I pray you, but rather open 
 
 270 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 an artery and let me fall gently asleep here beneath this noble 
 tree." 
 
 A light came into Rosendo's troubled eyes. A cunning smile 
 lurked about his mouth. 
 
 "Bien pues, it shall be as you -wish, vulture," he replied in 
 a tone which again struck terror to Diego's heart. He drew his 
 knife and approached the horrified priest. 
 
 "Carambal" shrieked Diego, shrinking back against the 
 tree. "Hombrel you do not intend — " 
 
 "Why not, vampire?" returned Rosendo, the sardonic snyle 
 spreading across his grim features. "Did you not ask it?" 
 
 "But — Hombrel Back! — Carambal Back! — Rosendo — God 
 above! But would you go down to hell with murder on your 
 soul?" 
 
 "Cierto, carrion! T kill the body. But you go down with a 
 load of murdered souls!" 
 
 "Rosendo — God! — it means hell for eternity to you!" 
 
 "To be sure, dog-meat," calmly replied Rosendo. "But hell 
 will be heaven to me as I sit forever and hourly remind you of 
 the suffering Ana and the beautiful Carmen, whom you tried 
 to ruin! Is it not so?" 
 
 "Ah, God!" Diego saw that he had lost. Wild thoughts 
 flashed through his mind with lightning speed. Desperation 
 lent them wings. A last expedient came to him. He fixed his 
 beady eyes upon Rosendo and muttered: "Coward! coward! 
 you bind a sick man and stick him like a pig!" 
 
 Rosendo hesitated. Diego quickly followed up his slight 
 advantage. 
 
 "We give a deer, a tapir, a jaguar, a chance for its life. We 
 fear them not. But you — coward, you are afraid of a sick man ! 
 And a priest!" 
 
 Rosendo could bear the taunt no longer. "Carambal" he 
 cried, "what would you?" He leaped to the sitting man and at 
 a stroke severed his bonds. Diego got slowly to his feet. 
 
 "Bien, spew of the vampire! you have now a chance!" 
 
 Diego extended his empty hands, palms up. He smiled 
 significantly. Rosendo caught the insinuation. 
 
 "Carambal take the knife! Hombre! but I will kill you 
 with my bare hands!" He threw the long knife to Diego, who 
 stooped and picked it up. 
 
 Stepping quickly back, holding the weapon firmly clenched 
 before him, the priest slowly circled Rosendo, as if looking for 
 an opening. An evil smile played constantly over his heavy 
 face, and his little eyes glittered like diamonds. Rosendo stood 
 like a rock, his long arms hanging at his side. 
 
 Then, with a shrill, taunting laugh, Diego. turned suddenly 
 
 271 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 and plunged into the newly-cut trail toward the lake. In an 
 instant he was lost in the fog. 
 
 For a moment Rosendo stood dumb with amazement. Then 
 he sprang after the priest. But it was too late. Diego had 
 reached the canoe, leaped quickly in, and pushed off. Rosendo 
 saw the mist swallow him. He was left a prisoner, without a 
 boat, and with two miles of shrouded water stretching between 
 him and the town! 
 
 A low moan burst from him. He had been tricked, out- 
 witted; and the evil genius which for years had menaced his 
 happiness was heading Straight toward the town^ where his 
 accomplice, Ricardo, awaited. What would they do, now that 
 he was out of the way? Thfe thought seared his brain. Great 
 beads of water, distilled from his agony, burst through his 
 pores. The Juncal river lay ofif to the west, and at a much less 
 distance than Simiti. He might swim to it and secure a canoe 
 at the village. But — ^the lake was alive with crocodiles ! 
 
 Chagrin and apprehension overwhelmed him, and he burst 
 into a flood of bitter tears. He threw himself upon the ground, 
 and tossed and moaned in despair. The fog thickened. A 
 twilight darkness settled over the waters. Nature — God him- 
 self—seemed to conspire with Diego. 
 
 Rosendo suddenly rose to his feet. He drew the new medal 
 scapulary around in front of :him and kissed it, reverently cross- 
 ing himself. "Santa Virgen," he prayed, "help me — it is for 
 the child!" Then, taking between his teeth the knife which 
 Diego had dropped, he rushed into the water and struck out 
 for the distant village of Juncal. 
 
 * » ■ » » « « 
 
 Late that afternoon, while the tropical rain was descending 
 in torrents, Rosendo staggered into the parish house^ where 
 Carmen and Jose were absorbed in their work, "Padre!" he 
 gasped, "Loado sea Dios!" as his eyes fell upon the girl. Then 
 he sank to the floor in utter exhaustion. 
 
 "Rosendo! what is it?" cried Jose, bending over him in ap- 
 prehension, while Carmen stood lost in wonder. 
 
 "Padre Diego^^!" cried Rosendo, raising himself up on his 
 elbow. "Has he been here?" 
 
 "Padre Diego !^' cried both Jose and the girl in astonish- 
 ment. Instinctively Jose's arm went about the child. Rosendo 
 dragged himself to a chair and sank limply into it. 
 
 "Then, Padre, he will come. He is in Simiti. He is no 
 longer a priest!" 
 
 Slowly the story came out, bit by bit. Jose listened in hor- 
 ror. Carmen's face was deeply serious. 
 
 "Bien, Padre," said Rosendo, concluding his dramatic and 
 
 272 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 disconnected recital, "I plowed through the water — Carathba! 
 I knew not at what moment I should feel the jaws of a cayman 
 seize upon me ! But the Virgin had heard my prayer. I must 
 offer a candle this night. But I did not land at Juncal. It was 
 some half league farther west. Bien, I was then glad, for had 
 I appeared in the village, all would have said that I had mur- 
 dered Diego! And so I struck out along the trail that skirts 
 the lake, and followed it around until I came here. Carambat 
 but see how my feet are cut! And the rain — Hombre! it beat 
 me down — I fell again and again ! And then, the fear that I 
 was too late — Ah, Dios! But she is safe — Carambat the Virgin 
 be praised!" 
 
 "But, Rosendo," said Jose anxiously, "where can Diego — " 
 
 "He is here, Caramba! in Simiti! Hombre! but I shall set 
 out at once and search every house! And he shall do well if 
 he escape this time!" 
 
 But dusk was falling; and the old man, his strength sapped, 
 listened not unwillingly to Jose's better counsel. With the 
 coming of night the rain ceased, and the clouds rolled up and 
 slipped down behind the mountains, leaviftg the moon riding 
 in splendor across the infinite blue. Then Jose, leaving Car- 
 men with Rosendo, walked to and fro through the streets of 
 the old town, listening and watching. He wandered down to 
 the lake. He climbed the hill where stood the second church. 
 He thought he caught the gleam of a light within, the old edi- 
 fice. He crept nearer. There were men inside. Their voices 
 sounded ghostly to his straining ears. 
 
 "But, friend Ricardo, h6 set out before dawn, and is not 
 yet returned. I fear he has either abandoned us, or has walked 
 into our good Rosendo's jaws." 
 
 "Hold your tongue, bleating calf!" cried the other petu- 
 lantly. "It is m^ore likely that he and Don Mario lie pickled in 
 rum under the palms of the Alcalde's patio!" 
 
 Jose waited to hear no more. He hurried down through the 
 main street and past the house of Don Mario. The door stood 
 open, and he could see the portly figure of the official outlined 
 against the back wall. It was evident that Diego was not there. 
 He returned in perplexity to his house arid sat far into the 
 night, musing on the strange incident. 
 
 With the coming of the new day Rosendo appeared with 
 fresh suggestions. "Bien, Padre," he said, "there is nothing to 
 do now but take the girl and flee to the Boque river and to the 
 hacienda df Don Nicolas." 
 
 Jose related his experience of the previous night. Rosendo 
 whistled softly. "Caramba!" he muttered, "but this is a mys- 
 tery! Arid — ^but here comes Juan." 
 
 273 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The lad entered excitedly. "Your canoe, Don Rosendo — as 
 I started out on the lake to fish I saw it, f^r in the distance. I 
 brought it in.- There was neither pole nor paddle in it. And 
 it was half full of water. It must have drifted all night. Did 
 it break away from its mooring, think you?" 
 
 Rosendo looked at Jose. The latter replied quickly : "That 
 is the most reasonable supposition, Juan. But Rosendo is very 
 grateful to you for securing it again." 
 
 When the lad had gone, Rosendo sat with bowed head, 
 deeply perplexed. 
 
 "The pole and paddle. Padre, were left on the island. I 
 took them out when we landed. Diego pushed off without 
 them. He — the boat — it must have drifted long. But — did he 
 land? Or—" 
 
 He stopped and scratched his head. "Padre," he said, look- 
 ing up suddenly with an expression of awe upon his face, "do 
 you suppose-^do you think that the Virgin — that she— made 
 him fall from the canoe into the lake — and that a cayman ate 
 him? Ca-ram-ba!" 
 
 Jose did not vouchsafe a reply. But his heart leaped with 
 a great hope. Rosendo, wrapped in profound meditation, wan- 
 dered back to his house, his head bent, and his hands clasped 
 tightly behind his back. 
 
 CHAPTER 29 
 
 THE rainy season dragged its reeking length through the 
 Simiti valley with fearful deliberation. Jose thought that 
 he should never again see the sun. The lake steamed like 
 a cauldron. Great clouds of heavy vapor rolled incessantly up- 
 ward from the dripping jungle. The rain fell in cloud-bursts, 
 and the narrow streets of the old town ran like streams in a 
 freshet. 
 
 Then, one day, Rosendo abruptly announced, "Padre, the 
 rains are breaking. The dry season is at hand. And the little 
 Carmen is fourteen years old to-day." 
 
 It gave the priest a shock. He had been six years in Simiti ! 
 And Carmen was no longer a child. Youth ripens quickly into 
 maturity in these tropic lands. The past year had sped like a 
 meteor across an evening sky, leaving a train of mingled light 
 and darkness. Of Diego's fate Jose had learned nothing. Ri- 
 cardo and his companion had disappeared without causing even 
 a ripple of comment in Simiti. Don Mario remained quiet for 
 many weeks. But he often eyed Jose and Rosendo malignantly 
 
 274 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 through the wooden grill at his window, and once he ordered 
 Fernando to stop Rosendo and ply him with many and pointed 
 questions. The old man was noncommittal, but he left a dark 
 suspicion, which was transmitted to the receptive mind of the 
 Alcalde. Acting-Bishop Wenceslas likewise was growing appre- 
 hensive as the weeks went by, and both Jose and Don Mario 
 were the recipients of letters of inquiry from him regarding the 
 whereabouts of the priest Diego. In the course of time came 
 other letters from Cartagena, and at length an order for a most 
 scrutinizing search to be made for the Bishop's confidential 
 agent. 
 
 It was of no avail. Rosendo's oft-repeated testimony, re- 
 vealed nothing. The citizens of Simiti had not seen the man. 
 The Alcalde had nothing but his suspicions to offer. And these 
 might have fallen harmlessly upon the acting-Bishop's well 
 occupied thought, had it not been for the complicating influ- 
 ence of certain other events. The first of these was the exhaus- 
 tion of the gold which Jose and Carmen had discovered in the 
 old church. The other was the outbreak of the religio-political 
 revolution which Diego had predicted some six years before, 
 and which, in these latter days, Don Jorge, on his infrequent 
 journeys through Simiti had repeatedly announced as inevitable 
 and imminent. Their combined effect was such as to wrest 
 Carmen away from Jose, and to set in a new direction the cur- 
 rents of their lives. 
 
 For some time past Jose had watched with growing anxiety 
 the shrinking of his gold supply, and had striven to lessen the 
 monthly contributions to Cartagena, meanwhile trying to 
 know that the need now looming daily larger before him would 
 be met. He had not voiced his apprehension to Carmen. But 
 he and Rosendo had discussed the situation long and earnestly, 
 and had at length resolved that the latter should again return 
 to Guamoco to wash the Tigui sands. 
 
 The old man sighed, but he uttered no protest. Yet each 
 day Jose thought he grew quieter. And each day, too, he 
 seemed to become more tender of his sad-faced daughter. Ana, 
 and of the little grandson who had come into his humble home 
 only a few weeks before. He delayed his preparations for 
 specious reasons which Jose knew cost him much effort to 
 invent. He clung to Carmen. He told his rosary often before 
 the church altar, and with tears in his eyes. And at night he 
 would come to Jose and beg him to read from the Bible and 
 explain what he thought the Saviour had really meant to convey 
 to the humble fishermen of Galilee. 
 
 Jose's heart was wrung. But at last the day arrived when 
 he had nothing to send to Cartagena beyond the mere pittance 
 
 275 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 which the poor members of his little parish contributed. But 
 this he sent as usual. The next mouth he did the same. Then 
 came a letter from Wenceslas, requesting- an explanation; And 
 then it was that Jose realized that in his excess of zeal he had 
 fallen into his own trap. For, having established the custom of 
 remitting a certain amount to the Bishop each month, he must 
 not resent now the implication of dishonesty when the remit- 
 tances fell off, or ceased altogether. He took the letter to Ro- 
 sendo. "Bien, Padre," said the latter slowly, "the time has 
 come. I set out for Guamoco at dawn." 
 
 In the days that followed, Jose could frame no satisfactory 
 reply to Wenceslas, and so the latter wrote to the Alcalde. Don 
 Mario eagerly seized the proffered opportunity to ingratiate 
 himself into ecclesiastical favor. Rosendo was again in the 
 hills, he wrote, and with supplies not purchased from him. 
 Nor had he been given even a hint of Rosendo's mission, 
 whether it be to search again for La Libertad, or not. There 
 could be no doubt, he explained in great detail, of Jose's con- 
 nivance with Rosendo, and of his unauthorized conduct in the 
 matter of educating the girl, Carmen, who, he made no doubt, 
 was the daughter of Padre Diego — now, alaS! probably cold in 
 death at the violent hands of the girl's foster-father, and with 
 the priest Jose's full approbation. The letter cost the portly 
 Don Mario many a day of arduous labor; but it brought its 
 reward in another inquiry from Cartagena, and this time a res- 
 quest for specific details regarding Carmen, 
 
 Don Mario bestrode the clouds. He dropped his customary 
 well-oiled manner, and carried his head with the air of a con- 
 queror. His thick lips became regnant, imperious. He treated 
 his compatriots with supercilious disdain. And to Jose he 
 would scarce vouchsafe even a cold nod as they passed in the 
 street. Again he penned a long missive to Cartagena, in which 
 he dilated at wearisome length upon the extraordinary beauty of 
 the girl, as well as her unusual mental qualities. He urged im- 
 mediate action, and suggested that Carmen be sent to the con- 
 vent in Mompox. 
 
 * ■ * * * * * 
 
 Wenceslas mused long over the Alcalde's letters. Many 
 times he smiled as he read. Then he sent for a young clerical 
 agent of the SeCj who was starting on a mission to Bogota, and 
 requested that he stop off a day at Badillo and go to Simiti to 
 report on conditions in that parish. Incidentally, also, to gather 
 what data he might as to the family of one Rosendo Ariza, 
 
 In due course of time the agent made his report. The parish 
 of Simiti stood in need of a new Cura, he said. And the girl — he 
 found no words to describe or explain her. She must be seen. 
 
 276 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The Church had need of prbmpt action, however, to secure her. 
 To that end, he advised her immediate removal to Cartagena. 
 
 Again Wenceslas deliberated. Aside from the girl, to whom 
 he found his thought reverting oftener than he could wish in 
 that particular hour of stress, his interest in Simiti did not ex- 
 tend beyond its possibilities as a further contributor to the 
 funds he was so greatly needing for the furtherance of his 
 complex political plans. As to the Alcalde — here was a possi- 
 bility of another sort. That fellow might become useful. He 
 should be cultivated. And at the same time warned against 
 precipitate action, lest he scatter Rosendo's family into flight, 
 and the graceful bird now dwelling in the rude nest escape the 
 sharp talons awaiting her. 
 
 He called for his secretary. "Send a message to Francisco, 
 our Legate, who is now in Bogota. Bid him on his return jour- 
 ney stop again at Simiti. We require a full report on the 
 character of the Alcalde of that town." 
 
 ¥ « « * f ' ¥ 
 
 Meantime, Jose did not permit his mental torture to inter- 
 fere with Carmen's education. For six years now that had 
 progressed steadily. And the results? Wonderful, he thought 
 — and yet not wholly attributable to his peculiar mode of tute- 
 lage. For, after all, his work had been little more than the 
 holding of her mind unwarped, that her instinctive sense of 
 logic might reach those truthful conclusions which it was bound 
 to attain if guided safely past the tortuous shifts of human 
 speculation and undemonstrable theory. To his great joy, these 
 six years had confirmed a belief which he had held ever since 
 the troublous days of his youth, namely, that, as a recent writer 
 has said, "adolescent understanding is along straight lines, and 
 leaps where the adult can only laboriously creep." There had 
 been no awful hold of early teaching to loosen and throw off; 
 there were no old landmarks in her mind to remove; no te- 
 nacious, clinging effect of early associations to neutralize. And, 
 perhaps most important of all, the child had seemed to enter 
 the world utterly devoid of fear, and with a congenital faith, 
 amounting to absolute knowledge, in the immanence of an 
 omnipotent God of love. This, added to her eagerness and 
 mental receptivity, had made his task one of constant rejoicing 
 in the realization of his most extravagant dreams for her. 
 
 As a linguist. Carmen had become accomplished. She spoke 
 English fluently. And it was only a matter of practice to give 
 her a similar grasp of French, Italian, and German. As for 
 other instruction, such knowledge of the outside world as -he 
 had deemed wise to give her in these six years had been seized 
 upon with avidity and as quickly assimilated. But he often 
 
 277 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 speculated curiously — sometim^es dubiously — upon the great 
 surprises in store for her should she ever leave her native 
 village. And yet, as often as such thought recurred to him he 
 would try to choke it back, to bar his mind against it, lest the 
 pull at his heartstrings snap them asunder. 
 
 Often as he watched her expanding so rapidly into woman- 
 hood and exhibiting such graces of manner, such amiability of 
 disposition, such selfless regard for others, combined with a 
 physical beauty such as he thought he had never before gazed 
 upon, a great yearning would clutch his soul, and a lump would 
 rise in his' throat. And when, as was so often the case, her 
 arms flew impulsively about his neck and she whispered words 
 of tender endearment in his ear, a fierce determination would 
 seize him, and he would clutch her to himself with such vehe- 
 mence as to make her gasp for breath. That she might marry 
 he knew to be a possibility. But the idea pierced his soul as 
 with a sword, and he thought that to see her in the arms of 
 another, even the man of her choice, must excite him to murder. 
 One day, shortly after her fourteenth birthday, she came to him 
 and, perching herself as was her wont upon his knees, and 
 twining her arms about his neck, said, with traces of embarrass- 
 ment, "Padre dear, Juan — he asked me to-day to marry him." 
 
 Jose caught his breath. His ears rang. She — marry a peon 
 of Simiti! To be sure, Juan had often reminded him of the 
 request he had made for her hand long ago. But Jose had not 
 considered the likelihood of the lad's taking his question directly 
 to her. And the girl — 
 
 "And what did you reply?" he asked thickly. 
 
 "Padre dear — I told him that — " She stopped abruptly. 
 
 "Well, chiquita; you told him — what?" His voice trembled. 
 
 She flushed, still hesitating. He held her back from him and 
 looked squarely into her wide eyes. 
 
 "You told him, chiquita — " 
 
 "That — well. Padre dear, I told him that — that I might never 
 marry." 
 
 Jose sighed. "And do you think, little girl, that you will 
 always hold to that resolution?" 
 
 "Yes, Padre, unless — " 
 
 "Well, chiquita, unless — " 
 
 "Unless you marry, too. Padre," she said, dropping her eyes. 
 
 "Unless I marry! I — a priest! But — what has that to do 
 with it, girl?" 
 
 "Well — oh. Padre dear — can't you see? For then I would 
 marry — " She buried her face in his shoulder. 
 
 "Yes, chiquita," he said, dully wondering. 
 
 Her arms tightened about his neck. "You," she murmured. 
 
 278 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 It was the first expression of the kind that had ever come 
 from her lips. Jose's heart thumped violently. The Goddess of 
 Fortune had suddenly thrown her most precious jewel into his 
 lap. Joy welled up in flood tides from unknown depths within. 
 His eyes swam. Then— he remembered. And thick night fell 
 upon his soul. 
 
 Minutes passed, and the two sat very quiet. Then Carmen 
 raised her head. "Padre," she whispered, "you don't say any- 
 thing. I know you love me. And you will not always be a 
 priest — not always," shaking her beautiful curls with suggestive 
 emphasis. 
 
 Why did she say that? He wondered vaguely. The people 
 called her an hada. He sometimes thought they had reason to. 
 And then he knew that she never moved except in response to 
 a beckoning hand that still, after all these years, remained in- 
 visible to him. 
 
 "Chiquita," he said in low response, "I fear — I fear that can 
 never be. And even if — ah, chiquita, I am so much older than 
 you, little girl — almost seventeen years!" 
 
 "You do not want to marry me, even if you could. Padre?" 
 she queried, looking wistfully into his eyes, while her own grew 
 moist. 
 
 He clutched her to him again. "Carmen!" he cried wildly, 
 "you little know — ^you little know ! But — child, we must not 
 talk of these things! Wait — ^wait!" 
 
 "But, Padre dear," she pleaded, "just say that you do love 
 me that way — ^just say it — ^your little girl wants to hear it." 
 
 God above ! She, pleading that he would say he loved her ! 
 His head sank upon his breast. He silently prayed that his 
 tortured soul might burst and let his wasted life ebb into 
 oblivion while his pent-up misery poured out. 
 
 "Carmen!" he cried with the despair of the lost. "I love 
 you — love you — love you! Nay, child, I adore you! God! 
 That I might hold you thus forever!" 
 
 She reached up quickly and kissed him. "Some day. Padre 
 dear," she murmured softly, "you will stop thinking that two 
 and two are seven. Then everything good will come to you." 
 
 She sank back in his arms and nestled close to him, as if she 
 longed to enter his empty heart and fill the great void with her 
 measureless love. 
 
 "And, Padre dear," she whispered, "your little girl will wait 
 for you — ^yes, she will wait." 
 
 » » » • ♦ » 
 
 It was some days later that Rosendo, after returning almost 
 empty handed from the hills, came to Jose and said, "Padre, 
 I have sold my hacienda to Don Luis. I need the money to pur- 
 
 279 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 chase supplies and to get the papers through for some denounce- 
 ments which I have made in Guamoco. I knew that Don Mario 
 would put through no papers for me, and so I have asked 
 Lazaro to make the transaction and to deliver the titles to me 
 when the final papers arrive. I have a blank here to be filled 
 out with the name and description of a mineral property. I — 
 what would be a good name for a itnine. Padre?" 
 
 "Why do you ask that, Rosendo?" queried Jose in surprise. 
 
 "Because, Padre, I want a foreign name — one not known 
 here. Give me an American one. Think hard." 
 
 Jose reflected. "There is a city, a great city, that I have 
 often heard about, up in the States," he said finally. 
 
 He took up the little atlas which he had received long sihce 
 with other books from abroad. "Look," he said, "it is called 
 Chicago. Call your property the Chicago mine, Rosendo. It is 
 a name unknown down here, and there can no confusion arise 
 because of it." 
 
 "Caramba!" Rosendo muttered, trying to twist his tongue 
 around the word, "it is certain that no one else will use that 
 name in Guamoco ! But that makes my title still more secure, 
 no?" 
 
 "But, Rosendo," said Jose, when the full significance of the 
 old man's announcement had finally penetrated, "you have sold 
 your fincal And to acquire title to property that you can never 
 sell or work ! Why, man ! do you realize what you have done? 
 You are impoverished! What will you do now? And what 
 about Carmen? for we have nothing. And the sword that hangs 
 above us may fall any day!" 
 
 "Bien^ Padre, it is for her sake that I have done it. Say no 
 more. It will work out in some way. I go back to-morrow. 
 But, if the titles should come from Cartagena during my 
 absence — and. Padre, if anything should happen to me — for the 
 love of the Virgin do not let them out of your hands! They 
 are for her." 
 
 Yet Rosendo departed not on the morrow. He remained to 
 mingle his tears with those of the sorrowing Ana. For the 
 woman, whose heart had been lighter since the arrival of her 
 babe, had come to the priest that day to have the child 
 christened. And so, before the sun might fill the plazd: with^ 
 its ardent midday heat, Rosendo and his family repaired to the* 
 church. There before the altar Jose baptised the little one and 
 gave it his own name, thus triumphantly ushering the pagan 
 babe into the Christian Catholic world. The child cried at the 
 touch of the baptismal water. 
 
 "Now," commented Rosendo, "the devil has gone out of him, 
 driven out by the holy water." 
 
 280 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 But, as Jose leaned over the babe and looked into its dark 
 eyes, his hand stopped, and his heart stood still. He raised his 
 head and bent a look of inquiry upon the mother. She returned 
 the look with one that mutely voiced a stifled fear and confirmed 
 his own, "Padre!" she whispered hoarsely. "What is it? 
 Quick!" 
 
 He took a candle from the altar and passed it before the 
 child's eyes. 
 
 "Padre! He sees! Santa Virgen! Do not tell me — Dios 
 tnio!" The mother's voice rose to a wail, as she snatched her 
 babe away. 
 
 A loud exclamation escaped Rosendo. Dona Maria stood 
 mute ; but Jose as he looked at her divined her thought and read 
 therein a full knowledge of the awful fact that she had never 
 voiced to the heart-broken mother. 
 
 "Padre!" cried the perplexed Rosendo. "Maria!" turning 
 in appeal to his wife. "Speak, some one ! Santa Virgen, speakl 
 Ana, what ails the child?" 
 
 Jose turned his head aside. Carmen crowded close to the 
 weeping Ana. Doiia Maria took Rosendo's arm. 
 
 "The babe, Rosendo," she said quietly, "was born — blind." 
 
 CHAPTER 30 
 
 THE "revolutionist" of Latin America is generally only the 
 disgruntled politician. His revolution is seldom more 
 than a violent squabble among greedy spoilsmen for 
 control of the loose-jointed administration. But the great 
 Mosquera Revolution which burst into flame in New Granada 
 in 1861 was fed with fuel of a different nature. It demonstrated, 
 if demonstration were necessary, that the Treaty of Westphalia 
 did not write finis to the history of bloodshed in the name of 
 Christ; that it had but banked the fires of religious animosity, 
 until the furnace should be transferred from the Old World to 
 the New, where the breath of liberty would again fan them into 
 vigorous activity. 
 
 The Mosquera War tore asunder Church and State ; but left 
 unhappy Colombia prone and bleeding. It externalized a 
 mighty protest of enlightenment against Rome's dictates in 
 temporal affairs. And, as has before happened when that 
 irresistible potentiality, the people, has been stirred into action, 
 the Church was disestablished, its property confiscated, and its 
 meddling, parasitical clergy disenfranchised. 
 
 But then, too, as almost invariably occurs when the masses 
 
 281 
 
 28 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 find that they have parted with cherished prejudices and effete 
 customs, and have adopted ideas so radical as to lift them a 
 degree higher in the scale of progress, they wavered. The 
 Church was being humiliated. Their religion was under 
 contempt. The holy sacrament of marriage was debased to a 
 civil ceremony. Education was endangered by taking it out of 
 the hands of the pious clergy. Texts unauthorized by Holy 
 Church were being adopted. Where would this radical mod- 
 ernism end? The alarm spread, fanned by the watchful agents 
 of Rome. Revolt after revolt occurred. And twenty years of 
 incessant internecine warfare followed. 
 
 Fear and prejudice triumphed. A new Constitution was 
 framed. And when it was seen that Roman Catholicism was 
 therein again declared to be the national religion of the 
 Republic of Colombia; when it was noted that the clergy, 
 obedient to a foreign master, were to be readmitted to partici- 
 pation in government affairs; when it was understood that a 
 national press-censorship was to be established, dominated by 
 Holy Church; and when, in view of this, the great religio- 
 political opponent was seen laying down her weapons and 
 extending her arms in dubious benediction over the exhausted 
 people, the masses yielded — and there was great rejoicing on 
 the banks of the Tiber over the prodigal's return. 
 
 When Wenceslas Ortiz was placed in temporary control of 
 the See of Cartagena he shrewdly urged the Church party to 
 make at least a pretense of disbanding as a political organiza- 
 tion. The provinces of Cundinamarca and Panama were again 
 in a state of ferment. Congress, sitting in Bogota, had before it 
 for consideration a measure vesting in the President the power 
 to interfere in certain states or provinces whenever, in his 
 opinion, the conservation of public order necessitated such 
 action. That this measure would be passed, Wenceslas could 
 not be sure. But that, once adopted, it would precipitate the 
 unhappy country again into a sanguinary war, he thought he 
 knew to a certainty. He had faced this same question six 
 years before, when a similar measure was before Congress. 
 But then, with a strong Church party, and believing the pas- 
 sage of the law to be certain, he had yielded to the counsel of 
 hot-headed leaders in Cartagena, and approved the inaugura- 
 tion of hostilities. 
 
 The result had been a fiasco. Congress dropped the meas- 
 ure like a hot plate. The demands of the "revolutionists" were 
 quickly met by the federal government. The causae belli 
 evaporated. And Wenceslas retired in chagrin to the solitude 
 of his study, to bite his nails and wonder dubiously if his party 
 were strong enough to insure his appointment to the See of 
 Cartagena in the event of the then aged occupant's demise. 
 
 282 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 It was this hasty judgment of Wenceslas and his political 
 associates which had delayed further consideration of the 
 bbjectionable measure for six years. But the interim had seen 
 his party enormously strengthened, himself in control of the 
 See, and his preparations completed for turning the revolt, 
 whenever it should come, to his own great advantage. He had 
 succeeded in holding the Church party aloof from actual partici- 
 pation in politics during the present crisis. And he was now 
 keeping it in constant readiness to throw its tremendous in- 
 fluence to whichever side should offer the greatest inducements. 
 
 Time passed. The measure dragged. Congress dallied; and 
 then prepared to adjourn. Wenceslas received a code message 
 from his agent in Bogota that the measure would be laid on 
 the table. At the same time came a sharp prod from New 
 York. The funds had been provided to finance the impending 
 revolution. The concessions to be granted were satisfactory. 
 Why the delay? Had the Church party exaggerated its in- 
 fluence upon Congress? 
 
 Wenceslas stormed aloud. "Santa Virgen!" he muttered, 
 as he paced angrily back and forth in his study. "A curse upon 
 Congress! A curse — " 
 
 He stopped still. In the midst of his imprecations an idea 
 occurred to him. He went to his escritorio and drew out the 
 Legate's recent report. "Ah," he mused, "that pig-headed 
 Alcalde. And the good little Jose. They may serve. Bien, 
 we shall see." 
 
 Then he summoned his secretary and dictated telegrams to 
 Bogota and New York, and a long letter to the Alcalde of 
 Simiti. These finished, he called a young acolyte in waiting. 
 
 "Take a message to the Governor," he commanded. "Say to 
 His Excellency that I shall call upon him at three this after- 
 noon, to discuss matters of gravest import." Dismissing his 
 secretary, he leaned back in his chair and dropped into a 
 profound revery. 
 
 Shortly before the hour which he had set for conference 
 with the Departmental Governor, Wenceslas rose and went to 
 his escritorio, from which he took a paper-bound book. 
 
 "H'm," he commerlted aloud. " 'Confessions of a Roman 
 Catholic Priest.' Bien, I was correct in my surmise that I 
 should some day have use for this little volume. Poor, mis- 
 guided Rincon! But — Bien, I think it will do — I think it will 
 do."- 
 
 A smile played over his handsome, imperious face. Then 
 he snapped the book shut and took up his hat. At the door 
 he hesitated a moment, with his hand 6n the knob. 
 
 "If the Alcalde were not such a fool, it would be impossi- 
 
 283 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ble," he mused. "But — the combination— the isolation of Simiti 
 — the imbecility of Don Mario — the predicament of our little 
 Jose — Hombrel it is a rare situation, and it will work. It must 
 work — cielol With the pig-headed Alcalde seizing government 
 arms to suppress the Church party as represented by the 
 foolish Jose, and with the President sending federal troops to 
 quell the disturbance, the anticlericals will rise in a body 
 throughout the country. Then Congress will hastily pass the 
 measure to support the President, the Church party will swing 
 into line with the Government — and the revolution .will be on. 
 Simiti provides the setting and the fuel; I, the torch. I will 
 cable again to Ames when I leave the Governor." He swung 
 the door open and went briskly out. 
 
 • ♦»♦*♦ 
 
 "Padre, I am crushed." 
 
 It was Rosendo who spoke. He and Jose were sitting out 
 in the gathering dusk before the parish house on the evening 
 of the day that Ana's babe had been christened. The old man's 
 head was sunk upon his breast, and he rocked back and forth 
 groaning aloud. 
 
 "We must be brave, Rosendo," returned Jose tenderly. "We 
 have gone through much, you and I, since I came to Simiti. 
 But — we have believed it to be in a good cause. Shall we 
 surrender now?" 
 
 "But, Padre, after it all, to have her babe come into the 
 world blind! God above! The poor child — the poor child! 
 Padre, it is the last thing that I can endure. My ambition is 
 gone. I cannot return now to Guamoco. Let come what 
 may, I am done." 
 
 "Rosendo," said Jose, drawing his chair closer to the old 
 man, and laying a hand on his, "we have fought long and hard. 
 But, if I mistake not, the greatest struggle is yet to come. The 
 greatest demand upon your strength and mine is still to be 
 made." 
 
 Rosendo raised his head. "What mean you. Padre?" 
 
 Jose spoke low and earnestly. "This : Juan returned from 
 Bodega Central this evening. He reports that several large 
 boxes are there, consigned to Don Mario, and bearing the 
 government stamp. He found one of them slightly broken, and 
 he peered within. What think you it contained? Rifles!" 
 
 Rosendo stared at the priest dumbly. Josd went on : 
 
 "I did not intend to tell you this until morning. But it is 
 right that you should hear it now, that your courage may rise 
 in the face of danger. What think you? The federal govern- 
 ment is sending arms to Simiti to establish a base here at the 
 outlet of the Guamoco region, and well hidden from the Mag- 
 
 284 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 dalena river. This town is to become a military depot, unless 
 I mistake the signs. And danger no longer threatens, but is at 
 our door." 
 
 "Ca-ram-bal" Rosendo rose slowly and drew himself up to 
 his full height. "War!" he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper. 
 
 "There is no question about it, Rosendo," replied Jose 
 gravely. "And I have no reason to doubt the truth of Diego's 
 prophecy, that this time it will be one to be reckoned with." 
 
 "Hombre! And Carmen?" 
 
 "Take her into the hills, Rosendo. Start to-morrow." 
 
 "But you?" 
 
 Jose's thought was dwelling on his last talk with the girl. 
 Again he felt her soft arms about his neck, and her warm 
 breath against his cheek. He felt her kiss, and heard again her 
 words, the sweetest, he thought, that had ever echoed in 
 mortal ears. And then he thought of his mother, of his office, 
 of the thousand obstacles that loomed huge and insurmountable 
 between him and Carmen. He passed a hand across his brow 
 and sighed heavily. 
 
 "I remain here, Rosendo. I am weary, unutterably weary. 
 I welcome, not only the opportunity for service which this 
 war may bring, but likewise the hope of — death. If I could 
 but know that she were safe — " 
 
 "Caramba! Think you she would leave you here, Padre? 
 No!" Did Rosendo's words convey aught to the priest that he 
 did not already know? 
 
 "But — Rosendo, I shall not go," he returned bitterly. 
 
 "Then neither do we. Padre," replied Rosendo, sitting again. 
 "The child, Carmen — she — Padre, she loves you with a love 
 that is not of the earth." 
 
 Morning found the old man's conviction still unshaken. 
 Jose sought the quiet of his cottage to reflect. But his medita- 
 tions were interrupted by Carmen. 
 
 "Padre," she began, sparkling like a mountain rill in the 
 sunlight as she seated herself before him. "Pepito — Anita's 
 babe — he is not blind, you know." Her head bobbed vigorously, 
 as was her wont when she sought to give emphasis to her 
 dramatic statements. 
 
 Jose smiled, and resigned himself to the inevitable. He 
 had been expecting this. 
 
 "And, Padre, have you been thankful that he isn't?" 
 
 "Isn't what, child?" 
 
 "Blind. You know, Padre Diego thought he couldn't see 
 the reality. He looked always at hi^ bad thoughts. And so 
 the not seeing, and the seeing of only bad things, were both — 
 
 285 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 externalized, and the babe came to us without sight. That is, 
 ■without what the human mind calls sight. And now," she went 
 on excitedly, "you and I have just got to know that it isn't so! 
 The babe sees. God's children all see. And I have thanked Him 
 all morning that this is so, and that you and I see it. Don't 
 we, Padre dear? Yes, we do." 
 
 "Well — I suppose so," replied Jos6 abstractedly, his thought 
 still occupied with the danger that hung over the little town. 
 
 "Suppose so ! You know so, Padre ! There isn't any 'sup- 
 pose' about it! Now look: what makes sight? The eye? No. 
 The eye is made by the sight. The human mind just gets it 
 twisted about. It thinks that sight depends upon the optic 
 nerve, and upon the fleshly eye. But it isn't so. It is the sight 
 that externalizes the 'meaty' eye. You see, the sight is within, 
 not without. It is mental. God is all-seeing; and so, sight is 
 eternal, Don't you see? Of course you do!" 
 
 Jose did not reply. Yes, he did see. But what he saw was 
 the beautiful, animated girl before him. And the thought that 
 he must s6me day be separated from her was eating his heart 
 like a canker. 
 
 "Well, then," went on the girl, without waiting for his 
 reply, "if a mortal's mental concept of sight is poor, why, he 
 will manifest poor eyes. If the thought-concept were right, 
 the manifestation would be right. Wouldn't it?" 
 
 Jose suddenly returned to the subject under discussion. 
 "By that I suppose you mean, chiquita, that the babe's thought, 
 or concept, of sight was all wrong, and so he came into the 
 world blind." 
 
 ."Not at all. Padre," she quickly replied. "The babe had 
 nothing to do with it, except to seem to manifest the wrong 
 thoughts of its father, or mother, or both. Or perhaps it man- 
 ifests just simply bad thoughts, without the bad thoughts be- 
 longing to anybody. For, you know, we none of us really have 
 such thoughts. And such thoughts don't really exist. They 
 are just a part of the one big lie about God," 
 
 "Then the babe sees?" 
 
 "Sijrely; the real babe is a child of God^ and sees." 
 
 "But the human babe doesn't see," he retorted. 
 
 "But," she replied, "what you call the human-babe is only 
 
 your mental concept of the babe. And you see that mental 
 
 concept as a blind one. Now un-see it. Look at it in the right 
 
 way. See only God's child, with perfect sight. And, Padre, 
 
 .after a while you will see that babe seeing things, just as we do! 
 
 "Don't you understand?" she exclaimed, as he sat looking 
 fixedly at her. "Don't you see that if you have the right thought 
 about the babe, and hold to it, and put out every thought that 
 
 ^_ 286 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 says it is blind, why, your right thought will be externalized in 
 a mental concept of a babe that sees? Don't you know that 
 that is exactly what Jesus did? He didn't affect the real man 
 at all. But he did change the mental concepts which we call 
 human beings. And we can do the same, if we only know it, 
 and follow him, and spiritualize our thought, as he did, by 
 putting out and keeping out every thought that we know does 
 not come from God, and that is, therefore, only a part of the 
 lie about Him. Here is a case where we have got to quit think- 
 ing that two and two are seven. And I have done it. It is 
 God's business to make our concepts right. And He has done 
 so — long since. And we will see these right concepts if we 
 will put out the wrong ones!" 
 
 "Well?" he queried lamely, wholly at a loss for any other 
 answer. 
 
 "Well, Padre, I am not a bit afraid. I don't see a blind babe 
 at all, because there just can't be any. And neither do you. 
 The babe sees because God sees." 
 
 "In other words, you don't intend to allow yourself to be 
 deceived by appearances?" he suggested. 
 
 "That is just it. Padre!" she exclaimed. "Blindness is only 
 an appearance. But it doesn't appear to God. It appears only 
 to the human mind — which isn't any mind at all ! And the ap- 
 pearance can be made to disappear, if we know the truth and 
 stick to it. For any appearance of a human body is a mental 
 concept, that's all." 
 
 "A thing of thought, then?" he said. 
 
 "Yes, a thing of wrong thought. But all wrong thought is 
 sxibject to God's right thought. We've proved that, haven't we, 
 lots of times? Well, this wrong thought about a babe that is 
 blind can be changed — made to disappear — just as any lie can 
 be made to disappear when we know the truth. And so you and 
 I are not going to be afraid, are we? I told Anita this morning 
 not to worry, but to just know all the time that her babe did see, 
 no matter what the appearance was. And she smiled at me. 
 Padre, she smiled. And' I know that she trusts, and is going 
 to work with you and me." 
 
 Work with her! Heavens! had he done aught of late but 
 work against her by his constant harboring of fears, of doubts, 
 and his distrust of spiritual power? 
 
 "Padre," she resumed, "I want you to promise me that every 
 day you will thank God that the babe really sees. And that you 
 will turn right on every thought of blindness and know that 
 it is a part of the lie about God, and put it right out of your 
 mind. Will you?" 
 
 "But — child — if my mind tells me that the babe is blind, 
 how can I — " 
 
 287 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "I don't care what your mind tells you about the babe! 
 You are to listen to what God tells you, not your human mind ! 
 Does God tell you that the babe is blind?. Does He?" she re- 
 peated, as the man hesitated. 
 
 "Why, no, chiquita. He—" 
 
 "Listen, Padre," she interrupted again, drawing closer to 
 him. "Is God good, or bad, or both?" 
 
 "He is good, chiquita/. all good." 
 
 "Infinite good, then, no?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And we have long since proved by actual reasoning and 
 demonstration that He is mind, and so infinite mind, no?" 
 
 "It must be conceded, Carmen." 
 
 "Well, an infinite mind has all power. And an infinite, all- 
 powerful mind that is all good could not possibly create any- 
 thing bad, or sick, or discordant — now could He?" 
 
 "Utterly impossible, little girl." 
 
 "The Bible says so. Our reasoning tells us so. But — the 
 five physical senses tell us differently. Don't they?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And yet, we know that the five physical senses do not tell 
 us truth! We know that when the human mind thinks it is 
 receiving reports about things through the five physical senses 
 it is doing nothing more than looking at its own thoughts. 
 Now isn't that so?" 
 
 "It certainly seems so, little one." 
 
 "The thoughts of an infinite and good mind must be like 
 that mind, all good, no? Well, then, thoughts of discord, dis- 
 ease, blindness, and death — do they come from the infinite, 
 good mind? No!" 
 
 "Well, chiquita mia, that is just the sticking point. I can 
 see all the rest. But the mighty question is, where do those 
 thoughts come from? I am quite as ready as you to admit 
 that discord, sin, evil, death, and all the whole list of human 
 ills and woes come from these bad thoughts held in the human 
 mind and so externalized. I believe that the human man really 
 sees, feels, hears, smells; and tastes these thoughts — that the 
 functioning of the physical senses is wholly mental — takes 
 place in mind, in thought only. That is, that thfe human mind 
 thinks it sees, feels, hears ; but that the whole process is mental, 
 and that it is but regarding its thoughts, instead of actually 
 regarding and cognizing objects outside of itself. Do you follow 
 me?" 
 
 "Of course," she replied with animation. "Isn't that just 
 what I am trying to tell you?" 
 
 "But — 'and hfei-e is the great obstacle— we differentiate be- 
 
 288 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 tween good and bad thoughts. We agree that a fountain can 
 not send forth sweet and bitter waters at the same time. And 
 so, good and bad thoughts do not come from the infinite mind 
 that we call God. But where do the others originate? Answer 
 that, chiquita, and my problems will all be solved." 
 
 She looked at him in perplexity tor some time. It seemed to 
 her that she never would understand him. But, with a little 
 sigh of resignation, she replied: 
 
 "Padre, you answered that question yourself, long ago. 
 You worked it all out three or four years ago. But — ^you 
 haven't stuck to it. You let the false testimony of the physical 
 senses mesmerize you again. Instead of sticking to the thoughts 
 that you knew to be good, and holding to them, in spite of the 
 pelting you got from the others, you have looked first at the 
 good, and then at the bad, and then believed them all to be 
 real, and all to be powerful. And so you got miserably mixed 
 up. And the result is that you don't know where you stand. 
 Do you? Or, you think you don't; for that thought, too, is a 
 bad one, and has no power at all, excepting the power that you 
 seem willing — and glad — to give it." 
 
 He winced under the poignant rebuke. He knew in his 
 heart that she was right. He had not clung to the good, de- 
 spite the roars of Satan. He had not "resisted unto blood." 
 Far from it ; he had fallen, almost invariably, at the first shower 
 of the adversary's darts. And now, was he not trying, desper- 
 ately, to show her that Ana's babe was blind, hopelessly so? 
 Was he not fighting on evil's side, and vigorously, though with 
 shame suffusing his face, waving aloft the banner of error? 
 
 "The trouble with you, Padre," the girl resumed, after some 
 moments of reflection, "is that you — you see everything^ — ^well, 
 you see everything as a person, or a thing." 
 
 "You mean that I always associate thought with person- 
 ality?" he suggested. 
 
 "That's it! But you have got to learn to deal with thoughts 
 and ideas by themselves, apart from any person or thing. You 
 have got to learn to deal with facts and their opposites entirely 
 apart from places, or things, or people. Now if I say that Life 
 is eternal, I have stated a mental thing. That is the fact. Its 
 opposite, that is, the opposite of Life, is death. One opposes 
 the other. But God is Life. Is God also death? He can't be. 
 Life is the fact. Then death must be the illusion. That being 
 so. Life is the reality, and death is the unreality. Very well, 
 what makes death seem real? It is just because the false 
 thought of death comes into the human mind, and is held there 
 as a reality, as something that has got to happen. And that 
 strong belief becomes externalized in what mortals call death, 
 
 289 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Don't you see? Is there a person in the whole world who 
 doesn't think that some time he has got to die? No, not one! 
 But now suppose every person held the belief that death was an 
 illusion, a part of the big lie about God, just as Jesus said it 
 was. Well, wouldn't we get rid of death in a hurry? I should 
 think so! And is there a person in the whole world who 
 wouldn't say that Anita's babe was blind? No, not one! They 
 would look at the human thought of blindness, instead of 
 God's real idea of sight, and so they would make and keep the 
 babe blind. Don't you understand me. Padre dear? Don't 
 you? I know you do, for you really see as God sees!" 
 
 She stopped for breath. Her eyes glistened, and her whole 
 body seemed to radiate the light of knowledge divine. Then 
 she went hurriedly on: 
 
 "Padre, everything is mental. You know that, for you told 
 me so, long since. Well, that being so, we have got to face 
 the truth that every mental fact seems to have an opposite, or 
 a lot of opposites, also seemingly mental. The opposite of a 
 fact is an illusion. The opposite of truth is a lie. Well, God is 
 the great fact. Infinite mind is the infinite fact. The so-called 
 opposite of this infinite fact is the human mind, the many so- 
 called minds of mankind^-a kind of man. But everything is 
 still mental. Now, an illusion, or a lie, does not really exist. 
 If I tell you that two and two are seven, that lie does not exist. 
 Is it in what we call my mind, or yours? No. Even if you say 
 you believe it, that doesn't make it real. Nor does it show that 
 it has real existence in your mind. Not a bit of it! But — if 
 you hold it, and cling to it — allow it to stay with you and in- 
 fluence you^-why. Padre dear, everything in your whole life will 
 be changed! 
 
 "Let me take your pencils — and a piece of paper. Look 
 now," drawing a line down through the paper. "On one side. 
 Padre, is the infinite mind, God, and all His thoughts and ideas, 
 all good, perfect and eternal. On the other side is the lie about 
 it all. That is still mental; but it is illusion, falsity. It in- 
 cludes all sin, all sickness, all murder, all evil, accidents, loss, 
 failure, bad ambitions, and death. These are all parts of the 
 big lie about God — His unreal opposite. These are the so-called 
 thoughts that come to the human mind. Where do they come 
 from? From nowhere. The human mind looks at them» tastes 
 them, feels them, holds them; and then they become its beliefs. 
 After a while the human mind looks at nothing but these be- 
 liefs. It believes them to be real. And, finally, it comes to 
 believe that God made them and sent them to His children. 
 Isn't it awful. Padre! And aren't you glad that you know 
 about it? And aren't you going to learn how to keep the good 
 on one side of that line and the illusion on the other?" 
 
 290 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 It seemed to Jose a thing incredible that these words were 
 coming from a girl of fifteen. And yet he knew that at the 
 same tender age he was as deeply serious as she — but with 
 this difference : he was then tenaciously clinging to the thoughts 
 that she was now utterly repudiating as unreal and non- 
 existent. 
 
 "Padre dear," the girl resumed, "everything is mental. The 
 whole universe is mental." 
 
 "Well," he replied reflectively, "at least our comprehension 
 of it is wholly mental." 
 
 "Why — it is all inside— it is all in our thought! Padre, 
 when Hernando plays on that old pipe of his, where is the 
 music? Is it in the pipe? Or is it in our thoughts?" 
 
 "But, chiquita, we don't seem to have it in our thought 
 until we seem to see him playing on the pipe, do we?" 
 
 "No, we don't," she replied. "And do you know why? It is 
 just because the human mind believes that everything, even 
 music, must come from matter — must have a — " 
 
 "Must have a material origin? Is that what you mean?" 
 
 "Yes. And men even believe that life itself has a material 
 origin; and so they have wasted centuries trying to find it in 
 the body. They don't seem to want to know that God is life." 
 
 "Then, chiquita, you do not believe that matter is real?" 
 
 "There is no matter outside of us, or around us, Padre," 
 she said in reply. "The human mind looks at its thoughts and 
 seems to see them out around it as things made of matter. But, 
 after all, it only sees its thoughts." 
 
 "Then I suppose that the externalization of our thought in 
 our consciousness constitutes what we call space, does it not?" 
 
 "It must, Padre," she answered. 
 
 He studied a moment. Then: 
 
 "Chiquita, how do you know me? What do you see that 
 you call 'me'?" 
 
 "Why, Padre, I see you as God does — at least, I try always 
 to see you that way?" she answered earnestly. "And that is 
 the way Jesus always saw people." 
 
 "God sees me, of course. But, does He see me as I see my- 
 self?" he mused aloud. 
 
 "You do not see yourself, Padre," was her reply. "You see 
 only the thoughts that you call yourself. Thoughts of mind 
 and body and all those things that go to form a human being." 
 
 "Well — ^yes, I must agree with you there; for, though God 
 certainly knows me, He cannot know me as I think I know 
 myself, sinful and discordant." 
 
 "He knows the real 'you,' Padre dear. And that 'is just as 
 He is. He knows that the unreal 'you,' the 'you' that you think 
 
 291 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 you know, is illusion. If He knew the human, mortal 'you' as 
 real, He would have to know evil. And that can not be." 
 "No, for the Bible says He is of eyes too pure to behold evil." 
 "Well, Padre, why don't you try to be like Him?" 
 But the girl needed not that he should answer her question. 
 She knew why he had failed, for "without faith it is impossible 
 to please him : for he that cometh to God must believe that he 
 is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him." 
 She knew that Jose's struggle to overcome evil had been futile, 
 because he had first made evil real. She knew that the diJBBculty 
 he had experienced in. keeping his thought straight was because 
 he persisted in looking at both the good and the evil. Lot's 
 wife, in the Bible allegory, had turned back to look at things 
 material and had been transformed into a pillar of salt. Jose 
 had turned again and again to his materialistic thoughts; and 
 had been turned each time to salt tears. She knew that he 
 gave up readily, that he yielded easily to evil's strongest tool, 
 discouragement, and fell back into self-condemnation, whereby 
 he only rendered still more real to himself the evil which he 
 was striving to overcome. She knew that the only obstacle that 
 he was wrestling with in his upward progress was the universal 
 belief in a power other than God, good, which is so firmly fixed 
 in the human consciousness. But she likewise knew that this 
 hindrance was but a false conviction, and that it could and 
 would be overcome. 
 
 "Padre," she reflected, looking up at him in great serious- 
 ness, "if a lie had an origin, it would be true, wouldn't it?" 
 He regarded her attentively, but without replying. 
 "But Jesus said that Satan was the father of lies. And 
 Satan, since he is the father of lies, must himself be a lie. You 
 see. Padre, we can go right back to the very first chapter in 
 the Bible. First comes the account of the real creation. Then 
 comes the account as the human mind looks at it. Btit that 
 comes after the 'mist' had gone up from the ground, from 
 dirt, from matter. Don't you see? That mist was error, the 
 opposite of Good. It was evil, the opposite of God. It was the 
 human mind and all human thought, the opposite of the infinite 
 Mind, God, and His thought. The mist went up from matter. 
 So every bit of evil that you can possibly think of comes from 
 the material, physical senses. Evil is always a mist, hiding the 
 good. Isn't it so? The physical universe, the universe of mat- 
 ter, is the way the human mind sees its thoughts of the spiritual 
 universe th^t was created by God. The human mind is just 
 a bundle of these false thoughts; and you yourself have said 
 that the human consciousness was a 'thought-activity, con- 
 cerned with the activity of false thought.' The human mind is 
 
 292 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the lie about the infinite mind. It is the mistake, the illusion. 
 It is like a mistake in mathematics. It has no principle, and 
 nothing to stand on. The minute you turn the truth upon it, 
 why, it vanishes." 
 
 "Well, then, chiqnita, why don't people turn the truth upon 
 it everywhere?" 
 
 "Because they are mesmerized by the error, Padre. They 
 sit looking at these false thoughts and believing them true. 
 Padre, all disease, all evil, comes from the false thought in the 
 human mind. It is that thought externalized in the human 
 consciousness. And when the human mind turns from them, 
 and puts them out, and lets the true thoughts in, why — why, 
 then we will raise the deadi" 
 
 "But, chiquita, the human body — if it has died — " 
 
 "Padre," she interrupted, "the human body and human 
 mind are one and the same. The body is in the mind. The 
 body that you think you see is but your thought of a body, and 
 IS in your so-called human mind!" 
 
 "Do you really understand that, child?" 
 
 "I know it!" she exclaimed. "And so would you if you read 
 your Bible in the right way. Why — I had never seen a Bible 
 until you gave me yours. I didn't know what a book it wasl 
 And to think that it has been in the world for thousands of 
 years, and yet people still kill one another, still get sick, and 
 still die! I don't see how they can!" 
 
 "But, chiquita, people are too busy to devote time to dem- 
 onstrating the truths of the Bible," he offered. 
 
 "Too busy!" she ejaculated. "Busy with' what?" 
 
 "Why — busy making money — busy socially — -busy having a 
 good time — ^busy accumulating things that — that they must go 
 away and leave to somebody else!" 
 
 "Yes," she said sadly. "They are like the people Jesus 
 spoke of, too busy with things that are of no account to see 
 the things that are — ^that are^-" 
 
 "That are priceless, chiquita — ^that are the most vital of all 
 things to sinful, suffering mankind," he supplied. 
 
 Rosendo looked in at the door. Jos^ motioned him away. 
 These hours with Carmen had become doubly precious to him 
 of late. Perhaps he felt a presentiment that the net about him 
 and his loved ones was drawing rapidly tighter. Perhaps he 
 saw the hour swiftly approaching, even at hand, when these 
 moments of spiritual intercourse would be rudely terminated. 
 And perhaps he saw the clouds lowering ever darker above 
 them, and knew that in the blackness which was soon to fall the 
 girl would leave him and be swept out into the great world of 
 human thoughts and events, to meet, alone with her God, the 
 
 293 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 fiercest elements, the subtlest -wiles, of the carnal mind. As for 
 himself — he was in the hands of that same God. 
 
 He turned again to the girl. "ChiqjiUa," he said, "you do 
 not find mistakes in the Bible? For, out in the big world where 
 I came from, there are many, very many, who say that it is 
 a book of inconsistencies, of gross inaccuracies, and that its 
 statements are directly opposed to the so-called natural sciences. 
 They say that it doesn't even relate historical events accurately. 
 But, after all, the Bible is just the record of the unfoldment in 
 the human consciousness of the concept of God. Why cavil 
 at it when it contains, as we must see, a revelation of the full 
 formula for salvation, which, as you say, is right-thinking." 
 
 "Yes, Padre. And it even tells us what to think about. Paul 
 said, you know, that we should think about whatsoever things 
 are true, honest, just, pure, lovely, and of good report. Well, 
 he told us that there was no law — not even any human law — 
 against those things. And don't you know, he wrote about 
 bringing into captivity every thought to Christ? What did he 
 mean by that?" 
 
 "Just what you have been telling me, I guess, chiquita: 
 that every thought must be measured by the Christrprinciple. 
 And if it doesn't conform to that standard, it must be rejected." 
 
 "Yes. And then he said that he died daily. He did die 
 daily to evil, to all evil thought — " 
 
 "And to the testimony of the physical senses, think you?" 
 
 "He must have ! For, in proving God to be real, he had to 
 prove the reports of the five physical senses to be only human 
 beliefs." 
 
 "You are right, chiquita. He must have known that the 
 corporeal senses were the only source from which evil came. 
 He must have known that unless God testified in regard to 
 things, any other testimony was but carnal belief. This must 
 be so, for God, being infinite mind, is also infinite intelligence. 
 He knows all things, and knows them aright — not as the human 
 mind thinks it knows them, twisted and deformed, but right." 
 
 "Of course, Padre. You know now that you see it right. 
 And can't you stick to it, and prove it?" 
 
 : "Chiquita," he answered, shaking his head again, his words 
 still voicing a lingering note of doubt, "it may be — ^the T that 
 I call myself may be entirely human, unreal, mortal. I make 
 no doubt it is, for it seems filled to the brim with discordant 
 thoughts. And it will pass away. And then — ^then what will 
 be left?" 
 
 "Gh, Padre!" she cried, with a trace of exasperation. 
 "Empty yourself of the wrong thoughts — shut the door against 
 them— -don't let them in any more! Then fill yourself with 
 
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CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 God's thoughts. Then when the mortal part fades away, why, 
 the good will be left. And it will be the right 'you.' " 
 
 "But how shall I empty myself, and then fill myself again?" 
 
 "Padre!" cried the girl, sj>ringing from her chair and stamp- 
 ing her foot with each word to give it ejnphasis. "It is love, 
 love, love, nothing but love! Forget yourself, and love every- 
 thing and everybody, the real things and the real bodies ! Love 
 God, and good, and good thoughts! Turn from the bad and 
 the unreal — forget it! Why — " 
 
 "Wait, chiquita," he interrupted. "A great war is threat- 
 ening our country at this very minute. Shall I turn from it 
 and let come what may?" 
 
 She hesitated not. "No ! But you can know that war comes 
 only from the human mind ; that it is bad thought externalized ; 
 and that God is peace, and is infinitely greater than such bad 
 thought; and He will take care of you— if you will let Him!" 
 
 "And how do I let Him? By sitting back and foldiag my 
 hands and saying, Here am I, Lord, protect me — " 
 
 "Oh, Padre dear, you make me ashamed of your foolish 
 thought — which isn't your thought at all, but just thought that 
 seems to be calling itself "you.' Jesus said. He that believeth 
 on me, the works that I do" shall he do likewise. But that did 
 not mean sitting back with folded hands. It meant under- 
 standing him; and knowing that there is no power apart from 
 the Christ-principle; and using that principle, using it every 
 moment, hard; and with it overcoming every thought that 
 doesn't come from God, every thought of the human mind, 
 whether it is called war, or sickness, or death!" 
 
 "Then evil can be thought away, chiquita?" He knew not 
 why he pursued her so relentlessly. 
 
 "No, Padre," she repliied with a gentle patience that smote 
 him. "No, Padre. But it can be destroyed in the human mind. 
 And when you have overcome the habit of thinking the wrong 
 way, evil will disappear. That is the whole thing. That is 
 what Jesus tried to make the people see." 
 
 But Jose knew it. Yet he had not put it to the proof. He 
 had gone through life, worrying himself loose from one human 
 belief, only to become enslaved to another equally insidious. 
 He knew that the cause of whatever came to him was within 
 his own mentality. And yet he knew, likewise, that he would 
 have to demonstrate this — that he would be called upon to 
 "prove" God. His faith without the works following was dead. 
 He felt that he did not really believe in power opposed to God; 
 and yet he did constantly yield to such belief. And such yield- 
 ing was the chief of sins. The unique Son of God had said so. 
 He knew that when the Master had said, "Behold, I give you 
 
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CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 power over all the enemy," he meant that the Christ-principle 
 would overcome every false claim of the human mentality, 
 whether that claim be one of physical condition or action, or a 
 claim of environment and event. He knew that all things were 
 possible to God, and likewise to the one who understood and 
 faithfully applied the Christ-principle. Carmen believed that 
 good alone was real and present. She applied this knowledge 
 to every-day affairs. And in so doing she denied reality to 
 evil. He must let go. He must turn upon the claims of evil 
 to life and intelligence. His false sense of righteousness must 
 give place to the spiritual sense of God as immanent good. He 
 knew that Carmen's great love was an impervious armor, 
 which turned aside the darts of the evil one, the one lie. He 
 knew that his reasoning from the premise of mixed good and 
 evil was false, and the results chaotic. And knowing all this, 
 he knew that he had touched the hem of the garment of the 
 Christ-understanding. There remained, then, the test of fire. 
 And it had come. Would he stand? 
 
 "Padre," said Carmen, going to him and putting her arms 
 about his neck, "you say that you think a great war is coming. 
 But you needn't be afraid. Don't you remember what; it says 
 in the book of Isaiah? 'No weapon that is formed against 
 thee shall prosper, and every tongue that shall rise against 
 thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of 
 the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is of me, 
 saith the Lord.' No weapon of evil can touch you, if you un- 
 derstand God. Every tongue of the human mind that rises to 
 judge you, to sentence you, shall be condemned. You will 
 condemn it-— you must} This is your heritage, give# you by 
 God. And your righteousness, your right-thinking, must come 
 from God. Your thoughts must be His. Then^ — " 
 
 "Yes, yes, chiquita," he said, drawing her to him. 
 
 "And now, Padre, you will promise me that you will know 
 every day that Anita's babe is not blind — that it sees, because 
 God sees?" 
 
 "Yes, chiquita, I promise." 
 
 "Padre dear," she murmured, nestling close to him, "I love 
 you so much, so much!" 
 
 He answered not, except in the tightening of the arm that 
 was about her. 
 
 296 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 31 
 
 IN the weeks that followed there were days when the very 
 air seemed pregnant with potential destruction, awaiting 
 
 only the daring hand that would render it kinetic. Jose 
 dwelt in a state of incessant, heart-shaking agitation. The sud- 
 den precipitation of the revolt six years before had caught him 
 wholly unprepared, unaware even of the events which had led 
 to it. In the intervening years, however, he had had some 
 opportunity, even in his isolation, to study political conditions 
 in that unhappy country, and to form some estimate of the 
 mental forces at work in both Church and State which, he 
 knew, must ultimately bring them again into conflict for su- 
 premacy. His knowledge of the workings of the human mind 
 convinced him that Diego's dire prophecy had not been empty; 
 that the Church, though ostensibly assuming only spiritual 
 leadership, would nevertheless rest not until the question 
 "Who shall be greatest?" even in the petty, sordid affairs of 
 mortals, should be answered, and answered — though by force, 
 of arms — in her favor. And his estimate of the strength of 
 the opposing parties had led him to believe that the impending 
 struggle would drench the land in blood. 
 
 As to the role which Wenceslas would play, he could form 
 no satisfactory estimate. He knew him to be astute, wary, and 
 the shrewdest of politicians. He knew, likewise, that he was 
 acting in conjunction with powerful financial interests in both 
 North America and Europe. He knew him to be a man who 
 would stop at no scruple, hesitate at no dictate of conscience, 
 yield to no moral or ethical code; one who would play Rome 
 against Wall Street, with his own unfortunate country as the 
 stake; one who would hurl the fairest sons of Colombia at one 
 another's throats to bulge his own coffers; and then wring 
 from the wailing widows their poor substance for Masses to 
 move their beloved dead through an imagined purgatory. 
 
 But he could not know that, in casting about impatiently 
 for an immediate causus belli, Wenceslas had hit upon poor, 
 isolated, little Simiti as the point of ignition, and the pitting of 
 its struggling priest against Don Mario as the method of ex- 
 citing the necessary spark. He could not know that Wenceslas 
 had represented to the Departmental Governor in Cartagena 
 that an obscure Cura in far-off Simiti, an exile from the Vati- 
 can, and the author of a violent diatribe against papal author- 
 ity, was the nucleus about which anticlerical sentiment was 
 crystallizing in the Department of Bolivar. He did not know 
 
 297 
 
 29 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 that the Governor had been induced by the acting-Bishop's 
 specious representations to send arms to Simiti, to be fol- 
 lowed by federal troops only when the crafty Wenceslas saw 
 that the time was ripe. He did not even suspect that Don 
 Mario was to be the puppet whom Wenceslas would sacrifice 
 on the altar of rapacity when he had finished with him, and 
 that the simple-minded Alcalde in his blind zeal to protect the 
 Church would thereby proclaim himself an enemy of both 
 Church and State, and afford the smiling Wenceslas the most 
 fortuitous of opportunities to reveal the Church's unexampled 
 magnanimity by throwing her influence in with that of the 
 Government against their common enemy. 
 
 His own intercourse with Wenceslas during the years of his 
 exile in Simiti had been wholly formal, and not altogether dis- 
 agreeable as long as the contributions of gold to the Bishop's 
 leaking coffers continued. He had received almost monthly 
 communications from Cartagena, relating to the Church at 
 large, and, at infrequent intervals, to the parish of Simiti. But 
 he knew that Cartagena's interest in Simiti was merely casual 
 — nay, rather, financial — and he strove to maintain it so, lest 
 the stimulation of a deeper interest thwart his own plans. 
 His conflict with Diego in regard to Carmen had seemed for 
 the moment to evoke the Bishop's interference; and the sud- 
 den and unaccountable disappearance of that priest had threat- 
 ened to expose both Jose and Carmen to the full scrutiny of 
 Wenceslas. But, fortunately, the insistence of those matters 
 which were rapidly culminating in a political outbreak left 
 Wenceslas little time for interference in affairs which did not 
 pertain exclusively to the momentous questions with which 
 he was now concerned, and Jose and Carmen were still left 
 unmolested. It was only when, desperate lest Congress ad- 
 journ without passing the measure which he knew would 
 precipitate the conflict, and when, well nigh panic-stricken 
 lest his collusion with Ames and his powerful clique of Wall 
 Street become known through the exasperation of the latter 
 over the long delay, he had resolved to pit Don Mario against 
 Jose in distant Simiti, and, in that unknown, isolated spot, 
 where close investigation would never be made, apply the 
 torch to the waiting combustibles, that Jos6 saw the danger 
 which had always hung over him and the girl suddenly de- 
 scending upon them and threatening anew the separation which 
 he had ever regarded as inevitable, and yet which he had hoped 
 against hope to avoid. 
 
 With the deposition of arms in Simiti, and the establish- 
 ment of federal authority in Don Mario, that always pompous 
 official rose in his own esteem and in the eyes of a few para- 
 
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CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 sitical attaches to an eminence never before dreamed of by 
 the humble denizens of this moss-encrusted town. From ego- 
 tistical, Don Mario became insolent. From sluggishness and 
 torpidity of thought and action, he rose suddenly into tre- 
 mendous activity. He was more than once observed by Jose 
 or Rosendo emerging hastily from his door and button-holing 
 some one of the more influential citizens of the town and ex- 
 citedly reading to him excerpts from letters which he had just 
 received from Cartagena. He might be seen at any hour of the 
 day in the little patio back of his store, busily engaged with 
 certain of the men of the place in examining papers and docu- 
 ments, talking volubly and with much excited gesticulation 
 and wild rolling of the eyes. A party seemed to be crystalliz- 
 ing about him. His hitherto uncertain prestige appeared to be 
 soaring greatly. Men who before made slighting remarks 
 about him, or opposed his administrative acts, were now often 
 seen in earnest converse with him. His manner toward Jose 
 and Rosendo became that of utter contempt. He often refused 
 to notice the priest as they passed in the streets. 
 
 Jose's apprehension waxed great. It attained its climax 
 when Rosendo came to him one day to discuss the Alcalde's 
 conduct and the change of sentiment which seemed to be steal- 
 ing rapidly over the hearts of the people of Simiti. 
 
 "Padre," said the old man in perplexity, "I cannot say what 
 it is, but Don Mario has some scheme in hand, and — and I do 
 not think it is for our good. I cannot get anything out of those 
 with whom he talks so continually, but Lazaro tells me that — 
 Bien, that he learns that Don Mario suspects you of — of not 
 belonging to the Church party." 
 
 Jose smiled. Don Mario's suspicions about him had been 
 many and varied, especially as La Libertad mine had not been 
 discovered. He said as much to Rosendo in reply; and as he 
 did so, he thought the old man's face took on a queer and un- 
 wonted expression. 
 
 "But, Padre," continued Rosendo at length, "they say that 
 Don Mario has word from the Bishop that you once wrote a 
 book against the Holy Father — " 
 
 "Good God!" The words burst from the priest's lips like 
 the sudden issuance of pent steam. Rosendo stared at him 
 in bewilderment. 
 
 "Rosendo!" gasped Jose. "How know you that?" 
 
 "Caramba, Padre! it is what Lazaro tells me," replied the 
 old man, his own suspicion verging upon conviction. 
 
 Jose's dark face became almost white, and his breath 
 sobbed out in gasps. A vague idea of the game Wenceslas was 
 playing now stole through his throbbing brain. That book, 
 
 299 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 his Nemesis, his pursuing Fate, had tracked him to this se- 
 cluded corner of the earth, and in the hands of the most un- 
 scrupulous politician of South America was being used as a tool. 
 But, precisely to what end, his wild thought did not as yet 
 disclose. Still, above the welter of it all, he saw clearly that 
 there must be no further delay on his part. Before he could 
 speak, however, Rosendo had resumed the conversation. 
 
 "Padre," he said, "had it occurred to you that you were 
 watched, day and night?" 
 
 "No — heavens!" Jose had not suspected such a thing. 
 
 "It is so, Padre. Don Mario's men keep you in sight during 
 the day; and at night there is always some one hovering near 
 your house. You could not escape now even if you would." 
 
 Jose sank back in his chair limp and cold. His frenzied 
 brain held but one thought: he had delayed until too late — 
 and the end was at hand! 
 
 "Padre," said Rosendo earnestly, "tell me about that book. 
 You did write it? And against the Holy Father? But — ^you 
 still say the Mass. You have not brought Carmen up in the 
 Church. But it was I who told you not to— that her heart was 
 her church, and it must not be disturbed. But — is it true, as 
 the people say, that you really belong to the party that would 
 destroy the Church?" 
 
 Then Jose collected himself. While his heart burned 
 within his breast, he opened its portals and revealed to Ro- 
 sendo all that lay within. Beginning with his boyhood, he 
 drew his career out before the wondering eyes of the old man 
 down to the day when the culmination of carnal ambition, 
 false thought, perverted concepts of filial devotion and sacred- 
 ness of oath, of family honor and pride of race, had washed 
 him up against the dreary shores of Simiti. With no thought 
 of concealment, hei exposed his ambition in regard to Carmen 
 — even the love for her that he knew must die of inanition — 
 and ended by throwing himself without reserve upon Rosendo's 
 judgment. When the tense recital was ended, Rosendo leaned 
 over and clasped the priest's trembling hand. 
 
 "I understand, Padre," he said gently. "I am dull of wit, 
 I know. And you have often laughed at my superstitions and 
 old family beliefs, whether religious or otherwise. They are 
 strange — I admit that. And I shall die in the Church, and 
 take my chances on the future, for I have tried to live a good 
 life. But — with a man like you — I understand. And now. 
 Padre, we have no time to be sorrowful. We must be up and 
 doing. We are like fish in a net. But — my life is yours. And 
 both are Carmen's, is it not so? Thanks be to the good Virgin," 
 
 300 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 he muttered, as he walked slowly away, "that L&zaro got those 
 titles from Don Mario to-day!" 
 
 »»»♦♦♦ 
 
 Nightfall brought an unexpected visitor in the person of 
 Don Jorge, who had returned from the remoter parts of the 
 Guamoco region, 
 
 "Bien, and what news?" he called cheerily, as he strode 
 into the parish house, where Rosendo and Jose were in earnest 
 conversation. 
 
 Jos6 embraced him as a brother, while a great sense of 
 relief stole over him. Then he quickly made known to him 
 the situation. 
 
 Don Jorge whistled softly. He ceased his task of scraping 
 the caked mud from his bare limbs, and drew up a chair near 
 Jose. 
 
 "So you wrote a book, no? And rapped the sacred priest- 
 hood? Hombrel That is good! I never did think you a real 
 priest. But, amigo, lend me a copy, for I doubt not it is most 
 excellent reading, and will serve to while away many a weary 
 hour in the jungle." His eyes snapped merrily, and he slapped 
 Jose roundly upon the back when he finished speaking. 
 
 "But," he continued more seriously, "things seem to be 
 setting against you, friend. However, let me but canvass the 
 town to-morrow, and by evening I can advise. Carambal this 
 old hole a military depot! Who would have thought it! And 
 yet — and yet — I wonder why the Governor sends arms here. 
 Bien, we shall see." 
 
 Don Jorge needed not a full day to correctly estimate the 
 situation in Simiti. His bluff, hearty manner and genial good- 
 nature constituted a passport to every house, and by midday 
 he had talked with nearly every man in the pueblo. He called 
 Jose and Rosendo for consultation during the siesta. 
 
 "Bien," he said, when they were seated in the parish house, 
 "Don Mario without doubt descends from the very serpent that 
 tempted our mother Eve! He has become a person of con- 
 siderable importance since the Governor and Don Wenceslas 
 strive with each other to rest their authority and confidence 
 in him. And, unless I mistake much, they have him slated 
 for important work. However that may be, the man already 
 has a large following. Moreover, he has them well poisoned 
 against you, amigo Jose. They know more details about your 
 book and your life before coming to Simiti than do you. Bien, 
 you must counteract the Alcalde's influence by a public state- 
 ment. It must be to-night — ^in the church! You will have to 
 act quickly, for the old fox has you picked for trouble! Diego's 
 disappearance, you know; the girl. Carmen; your rather foolish 
 
 301 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 course -here — it is all laid up against you, friend, and you must 
 meet it!" 
 
 Jose assented. Don Jorge went out and summoned the 
 town to a meeting in the church that evening. Immediately 
 Don Mario issued a mandate forbidding a public gathering at 
 a time of such stress. The people began to assemble on the 
 street corners and in front of their houses to discuss the situa- 
 tion. Their talk became loud and animated. Threats were 
 heard. The people were becoming divided. Don Jorge was 
 everywhere, and none could talk so volubly nor gesticulate and 
 expectorate so vehemently as he. 
 
 At sundown the people moved toward the plaza. Then the 
 concourse drifted slowly into the church. Don Jorge dragged 
 Jose from the parish house and up to the altar, "You have 
 got to divide them, Padre!" he whispered excitedly. "Your 
 only hope now lies in the formation of your own party to 
 oppose the Alcalde ! Talk to them as you never talked before ! 
 Say all that you had stored up to say on Judgment Day!" 
 
 Again, as Jose faced his little flock and saw them, bare of 
 feet, scantily clad in their simple cotton and calico, their faces 
 set in deep seriousness, the ludicrous side of the whole situa- 
 tion flashed before him, and he almost laughed aloud at the 
 spectacle which the ancient, decayed town at that moment 
 presented. These primitive folk — ^they were but children, with 
 all a child's simplicity of nature, its petulance, its immaturity 
 of view, and its sudden and unreasoning acceptance of author- 
 ity! He turned to the altar and took up a tall brass crucifix. 
 He held it out before him for a moment. Then he called upon 
 the Christ to witness to the truth of what he was about to say. 
 
 A hush fell over the assembly. Even .Don Mario seemed to 
 become calm after that dramatic spectacle. Then Jose spoke. 
 He talked long and earnestly. He knew not that such elo- 
 quence abode within him. His declamation became more and 
 more impassioned. He opened wide his heart and called upon 
 all present to look fearlessly within. Yes, he had written the 
 book in question. But its publication was unfortunate. Yes, 
 it had expressed his views at that time. But now — ah, now! 
 
 He stopped and looked about the church. The shadows 
 were gathering thick, and the smoking kerosene lamps battled 
 vainly with the heavy blackness. In a far corner of the room 
 he saw Carmen and Ana. Rosendo sat stolidly beside them. 
 The sightless babe waved its tiny hands in mute helplessness, 
 while Dona Maria held it closely to her bosom. Carmen's last 
 admonition sang in his ears. He must know — really know- 
 that the babe could see ! He must know that God was omnipo- 
 tent! His appeal to the people was not for himself. He cared 
 
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CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 not what became of him. But Carmen — and now Ana and the 
 blind babe — and the calm, unimpassioned Dotia Maria, the 
 embodiment of all that was greatest in feminine character — 
 and Rosendo, waiting to lay down his life for those he loved! 
 And then, this people, soon, he felt, to be shattered by the 
 shock of war — ah, God above! what could he say that might 
 save them? If they could know, as Carmen did, if they could 
 love and trust as she did, would the hideous spectre of war 
 ever stalk among them? Could the world know, and love, and 
 trust as did this fair child, would it waste itself in useless 
 wars, sink with famine and pestilence, consume with the an- 
 guish of fear, and in the end bury its blasted hopes in the dank, 
 reeking tomb? The thought gave wings to his voice, soul to 
 his words. For hours the people sat spellbound. 
 
 Then he finished. He raised his hands in benediction. 
 And, while the holy hush remained upon the people, he de- 
 scended the altar steps, his frame still tremulous with the 
 vehemence of his appeal, and went alone to his house. 
 
 CHAPTER 32 
 
 DAWN had scarcely reddened in the east when a number 
 of men assembled at Jose's door. 
 "You have turned the trick, amigo," said Don Jorge, 
 rousing up from his petate on the floor beside the priest's bed. 
 "You have won over a few of them, at least." 
 
 Jose went out to meet the early callers. 
 
 "We come to say. Padre," announced Andres Arellano, the 
 dignified spokesman, "that we have confidence in your words 
 of last night. We suspect Don Mario, even though he has 
 letters from the Bishop. We are your men, and we would 
 keep the war away from Simiti." 
 
 There were five of them, strong of heart and brawny of 
 arm. "And there will be more. Padre," added Andres, reading 
 the priest's question in his appraising glance. 
 
 Thus was the town divided; and while many clung to the 
 Alcalde, partly through fear of offending the higher ecclesias- 
 tical authority, and partly because of imagined benefits to be 
 gained, others, and a goodly number, assembled at Jose's side, 
 and looked to him to lead them in the crisis which all felt to 
 be at hand. As the days passed, the priest's following grew 
 more numerous, until, after the lapse of a week, the town 
 stood fairly divided. Don Jorge announced his intention of 
 remaining in Simiti for the present. 
 
 303 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 From the night of the meeting in the church excitement 
 ran continuously higher. Business was at length suspended; 
 the fishermen forgot their nets; and the limber tongues of the 
 town gossips steadily increased their clatter. Don Mario's store 
 and patio assumed the functions of a departmental office. Daily 
 he might be seen laboriously drafting letters of incredible 
 length and wearisome prolixity to acting-Bishop Wenceslas; 
 and nightly he was engaged in long colloquies and whispered 
 conferences with Don Luis and others of his followers and 
 hangers-on. The government arms had been brought up from 
 Bodega Central and stored in an empty warehouse belonging 
 to Don Felipe Alcozer to await further disposition. 
 
 But with the arrival of the arms, and of certain letters which 
 Don Mario received from Cartagena, the old town lost its calm 
 of centuries, not to recover it again for many a dreary day. 
 By the time its peace was finally restored, it had received a 
 blow from which it never recovered. And many a familiar 
 face, too, had disappeared forever from its narrow streets. 
 
 Meanwhile, Jose and his followers anxiously awaited the 
 turn of events. It came at length, and in a manner not wholly 
 unexpected. The Alcalde in his voluminous correspondence 
 with Wenceslas had not failed to bring against Jose every 
 charge which his unduly stimulated- brain could imagine. But 
 in particular did he dwell upon the priest's malign influence 
 upon Carmen, whose physical beauty and powers of mind were 
 the marvel of Simiti. He hammered upon this with an insist- 
 ence that could not but at length again attract the thought of 
 the acting-Bishop, who wrote finally to Don Mario, expressing 
 the mildly couched opinion that, now that his attention had 
 been called again to the matter, Carmen should hav« the bene- 
 fits of the education and liberal training which a convent would 
 afford. 
 
 Don Mario's egotism soared to the. sky. The great Bishop 
 was actually being advised by him! Hombre! Where would 
 it not end! He would yet remove to a larger town, perhaps 
 Mompox, and, with the support of the great ecclesiastic, stand 
 for election to Congress! He would show the Bishop what 
 mettle he had in him. Hombre! And first he would show 
 His Grace how a loyal servant could anticipate his master's 
 wishes. He summoned Fernando, and imperiously bade him 
 bring the girl Carmen at once. 
 
 But Fernando returned, saying that Rosendo refused to 
 give up the child. Don Mario then ordered Rosendo's arrest. 
 But Fernando found it impossible to execute the commission. 
 Jos6 and Don Jorge stood with Rosendo, and threatened to 
 deal harshly with the constable should he attempt to take Car- 
 
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CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 men by force. Fernando then sought to impress upon the 
 Alcalde the danger of arousing public opinion again over the 
 girl. 
 
 Don Mario's wrath burst forth like an exploding bomb. He 
 seized his straw hat and his cane, the emblem of his office, and 
 strode to the house of Rosendo. His face grew more deeply 
 purple as he went. At the door of the house he encountered 
 Jose and Don Jorge. 
 
 "Don Mario," began Jose, before the Alcalde could get his 
 words shaped, "it is useless. Carmen remains with us. We 
 will defend her with our lives. Be advised, Don Mario, for 
 the consequences of thoughtless action may be incalculable!" 
 
 "Carambal" bellowed the irate official, "but, cow-face! do 
 you know that His Grace supports me? That I but execute his 
 orders? Dios arriba! if you do not at once deliver to me your 
 paramour — " 
 
 He got no further. Rosendo, who had been standing just 
 within the door, suddenly pushed Jose and Don Jorge aside 
 and, stalking out, a tower of flesh, confronted the raging Al- 
 calde. For a moment he gazed down into the pig-eyes of the 
 man. Then, with a quick thrust of his thick arm, he pro- 
 jected his huge fist squarely into Don Mario's bloated face. 
 The Alcalde went down like a shot. 
 
 Neither Jose nor Don Jorge, as they rushed in between Ro- 
 sendo and his fallen adversary, had any adequate idea of the 
 consequences of the old man's precipitate action. As they 
 assisted the prostrate official to his unsteady feet they knew not 
 that to Rosendo, simple, peace-loving, and great of heart, had 
 fallen the lot to inaugurate hostilities in the terrible anti- 
 clerical war which now for four dismal years was to tear 
 Colombia from end to end, and leave her prostrate and ex- 
 hausted at last, her sons decimated, her farms and industries 
 ruined, and her neck beneath the heavy heel of a military 
 despot at Bogota, whose pliant hand would still be guided by 
 the astute brain of Rome. 
 
 By the time the startled Alcalde had been set again upon his 
 feet a considerable concourse had gathered at the scene. 
 Many stood in wide-eyed horror at what had just occurred. 
 Others broke into loud and wild talk. The crowd rapidly grew, 
 and in a few minutes the plaza was full. Supporters of both sides 
 declaimed and gesticulated vehemently. In the heat of the 
 argutnents a blow was struck. Then another. The Alcalde, 
 when he found his tongue, shrilly demanded the arrest of Ro- 
 sendo and his family, including the priest and Don Jorge. A 
 dozen of his party rushed forward to execute the order. Ro- 
 sendo had slipped between Jose and Don Jorge and into his 
 
 305 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 house. In a trice he emerged with a great machete; The peo- 
 ple about him fell back. His eyes blazed like live coals, and 
 his breath seemed to issue from his dilating nostrils like clouds 
 of steam. To approach him meant instant death. Don Jorge 
 crept behind him and, gaining the house, collected the terrified 
 ■women and held them in readiness for flight. Juan, Lazaro, 
 and a number of others surrounded Jose and faced the angry 
 multitude. 
 
 The strain was broken by the frenzjed Alcalde, who rushed 
 toward Rosendo. The old man swung his enormous machete 
 with a swirl that, had it met the official, would have clean de- 
 capitated him. But, fortunately, one of the priest's supporters 
 threw out his foot, and the corpulent Alcalde fell heavily over 
 it and bit the dust. Jose threw himself upon Rosendo. The 
 old man staggered with the shock and gave way. The priest 
 turned to the excited crowd. Holding up both hands high 
 above his head, he sent out his voice clear and loud. 
 
 "Children! In the name of the Church! In the name of 
 the Christ! The blessed Virgin—" 
 
 "What know you of the blessed Virgin, priest of Satan?" 
 shouted a rough follower of the Alcalde. 
 
 "Aye!" yelled another. "Writer of foul books! Seducer 
 of young girls!" 
 
 Julio Gomez stooped and took up a large piece of shale. 
 He threw it with all his force, just as the priest again strove 
 to make his voice heard above the din. It struck Jose full on 
 the forehead. The jagged stone cut deeply, and the red blood 
 spurted. Jose fell into the arms of Lazaro and was dragged 
 into the house. 
 
 Then Rosendo, with a mad yell, plunged wildly into the 
 crowd. A dozen arms sought to hold him, but in vain. Julio 
 saw the terrifying apparition hurtling down upon him. He 
 turned and fled, but not before the great knife had caught 
 him on its point as it swung down and ripped a deep gash the 
 full length of his naked back. 
 
 Then the last vestige of reason fled from the mob, and chaos 
 took the reins. Back and forth through the plaza, in front of 
 the church where hung the image of the Prince of Peace, the 
 maddened people surged, fighting like demons, raining blows 
 with clubs, fists, and machetes, stabbing with their long, wicked 
 knives, hurling sharp stones, gouging, ripping, yelling, shriek- 
 ing, calling upon Saints and Virgin to curse their enemies and 
 bless their blows. Over the heads of them all towered the 
 mighty frame of Rosendo. Back before his murderous machete 
 fell the terrified combatants. His course among them was 
 that of a cannon ball. Dozens hung upon his arms, his shoul- 
 
 306 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ders, or flung themselves about his great legs. His huge body, 
 slippery and reeking, was galvanized into energy incarnate. 
 Sparks seemed to flash from his eyes. His breath turned to 
 livid flame. Behind him, following in the swath which he cut, 
 his supporters crowded, fought and yelled. Don Mario's forces 
 gave way. They cursed, broke, and fled. Then Don Jorge, a 
 man whose mortal strength was more than common, threw 
 himself upon the steaming, frenzied Rosendo and stopped his 
 mad progress. 
 
 "Rosendo — amigol Garamba! Listen! They are fleeing 
 to the bodega to get the rifles and ammunition! Come — Dios 
 arriba! Come!" 
 
 Cut, bruised, and dripping blood from a dozen wounds, Ro- 
 sendo stood for a moment blinking in confusion, A score lay 
 on the ground about him. Whether dead or wounded, he knew 
 not, nor cared. The sight of Don Mario's supporters in full 
 flight fascinated him. He broke into a chuckle. It sounded 
 like the gloating of an imp of Satan. Then the force of Don 
 Jorge's words smote him. 
 
 "Caramba! They will return with the rifles!" he panted. 
 "What shall we do?" 
 
 "Come! We must lose no time!" cried Don Jorge, pulling 
 him toward the house. Those of the priest's other followers 
 who were still whole scattered wildly to their homes and 
 barred their doors. There they searched for knives, machetes, 
 razors, any tool or instrument that might be pressed into ser- 
 vice as a weapon, and stood guard. One frenzied fellow, the 
 sole possessor of an antiquated shotgun, projected the rusty 
 arm from a hole in the wall of his mud hut and blazed away 
 down the deserted street indiscriminately and without aim. 
 
 Within the house Juan and Lazaro were supporting the 
 dazed Jose, while Dona Maria bathed and bound his wound. 
 Carmen stood gazing upon the scene in bewilderment. The 
 precipitousness of the affair had taken her breath. away and 
 driven all thought in mad rout from her mind. 
 
 "Amigos!" panted Don Jorge, "the church — it is the only 
 place now that is even fairly safe ! Doiia Maria, do you collect 
 all the food in the house! We know not how long we may be 
 prisoners — " 
 
 "But-— Don Jorge," interrupted Jose feebly, "they will at- 
 tack us even there! Let us flee — " 
 
 "Where, amigo? To the Guamoco trail? Caramba! they 
 would shoot us down in cold blood! Hombre! There is no 
 place but the church ! That will hold some of them back, at 
 any rate! And none of them, if they get crazed with anisado! 
 But it is the only place now! Come!" 
 
 307 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Hombre!" cried Rosendo, starting for the door, "but do 
 you, Juan and Lazaro, follow me with your machetes, and we 
 will drive the cowards from the bodega and get the rifles our- 
 selves!" 
 
 "No, amigol Impossible! By this time they have broken 
 open the boxes and loaded the guns. A shot — and it would be 
 all over with you! But in the church — you have a chance 
 there!" 
 
 Don Jorge seized his arm and dragged him out of the house 
 and across the deserted plaza, Juan and Lazaro helped Dona 
 Maria gather what food and water remained in the house ; and 
 together they hurried out and over to the church. Swinging 
 open the heavy wooden doors, they entered and made them fast 
 again. Then they sank upon the benches and strove to realize 
 their situation. 
 
 But Don Jorge suddenly sprang to his feet. "The win- 
 dows!" he cried. 
 
 Juan and Lazaro hurried to them and swung the wooden 
 shutters. 
 
 "There is no way of holding them!" cried Juan in dismay. 
 
 -".Caramba!" muttered Rosendo, seizing a bench and with 
 one blow of his machete splitting it clean through, "these will 
 make props to hold them!" 
 
 It was the work of but a few minutes to place benches 
 across the thick shutters and secure them with others placed 
 diagonally against them and let into the hard dirt floor. The 
 same was done with the doors. Then the little group huddled 
 together and waited. Jose heard a sob beside him, and a 
 hand clutched his in the gloom. It was Carmen. In the ex- 
 citement of the hour he had all but forgotten her. Through 
 his present confusion of thought a great fact loomed: as the 
 girl clung to him she was weeping! 
 
 A low rumble drifted to them; a confusion of voices, grow- 
 ing louder; and then a sharp report. 
 
 "They are coming, Padre," muttered Rosendo. "And some 
 one has tried his'^rifle!" 
 
 A moment later the ruck poured into the plaza and made 
 for Rosendo's house. Don Mario, holding his cane aloft like a 
 sword, was at their head. Raging with disappointment at not 
 finding the fugitives in the house, they threw the furniture and 
 kitchen utensils madly about, punched great holes through 
 the walls, and then rushed pellmell to the parish house next 
 door. A groan escaped Jose as he watched them through a 
 chink in the shutters. His books and papers! His notes and 
 writings ! 
 
 But as the howling mob streamed toward the parish house 
 
 308 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 a wrinkled old crone shrilled at them from across the way and 
 pointed toward the church. 
 
 "In there, amigos!" she screamed. "I saw them enter! 
 Shoot them — they have hurt my Pedro!" 
 
 Back like a huge wave the crowd flowed, and up against the 
 church doors. Don Mario, at the head of his valiant followers, 
 held up his hand for silence. Then, planting himself before 
 the main doors of the church, he loudly voiced his authority. 
 
 "In the name of the Government at Bogota!" he cried 
 pompously, tapping the doors with his light cane. Then he 
 turned quickly. "Fernando," he called, "run to ray house and 
 fetch the drum!" 
 
 Despite the seriousness of their situation, Jose smiled at the 
 puppef-show being enacted without. 
 
 The Alcalde reiterated his demands with truculent vanity. 
 "Open! In the name of the Government! I am the law!" 
 
 Don Jorge groaned aloud. "Caramba! if I but had him in 
 here alone!" 
 
 Don Mario waited a few moments. Then, as no response 
 came from within, his anger began to soar. "Caramba!" he 
 cried, "but you defy the law?" 
 
 Angry mutterings rose from the crowd. Some one sug- 
 gested burning the building. Another advised battering in the 
 doors. A third intimated that shooting them full of holes were 
 better. This idea, once voiced, spread like an infection. The 
 childish people were eager to try the rifles. 
 
 "Shoot the doors down! Shoot them down,. Don Mario!" 
 yelled the mob. 
 
 The Alcalde threw himself heavily up against the doors. 
 "Caramba!" he shrilled. "Fools! Demons! Open! — or it 
 will be the worse for you!" 
 
 Jose decided that their silence should no longer exasperate 
 the angry man. He put his mouth to the crevice between the 
 doors. 
 
 "Don Mario," he cried, "this is sacred ground! The Host 
 is exposed on the altar. Take your mob away. Disperse, and 
 we will come out. We may settle this trouble amicably, if you 
 will but listen to reason." 
 
 The Alcalde jumped up and down in his towering wrath. 
 "Puppy-face!" he screamed, "but I am the law — I am the Gov- 
 ernment ! A curse upon you, priest of Satan ! Will you unbar 
 these doors?" 
 
 "No!" replied Jose.' "And if you attack us you attack the 
 Church!" 
 
 "A curse on the Church! Amigos! Muchachos !" he 
 bawled, turning to the mob, "we will batter down the doors!" 
 
 309 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The crowd surged forward again. But the props held firm. 
 Again and again the mob hurled itself upon the thick doors. 
 They bent, they sagged, but they held. Don Mario became 
 apoplectic. A torrent of anathemas streamed from his thick 
 lips. 
 
 "The side door!" some one shouted, recovering a portion of 
 his scant wit. 
 
 "Aye — and the door of the sacristia!" 
 
 "Try the windows!" 
 
 Round the building streamed the crazed mob, without head, 
 without reason, lusting only for the lives of the frightened 
 little band huddled together in the gloom within. Jose kept an 
 arm about Carmen. Ana bent sobbing over her tiny babe. 
 Don Jorge and Rosendo remained mute and grim. Jose knew 
 that those two would cast a long reckoning before they died. 
 Juan and Lazaro went from door to window, steadying the 
 props and making sure that they were holding. The tough, 
 hard, tropical wood, though pierced in places by comjejen 
 ants, was resisting. 
 
 The sun was already high, and the plaza had become a 
 furnace. The patience of the mob quickly evaporated in the 
 ardent heat. Don Mario's wits had gone completely. Revenge, 
 mingled with insensate zeal to manifest the authority which he 
 believed his intercourse with Wenceslas had greatly aug- 
 mented, had driven all rationality from his motives. Flaming 
 anger had unseated his reason. Descending from the platform 
 on which stood the church, he blindly drew up his armed fol- 
 lowers and bade them fire upon the church doors. 
 
 If Wenceslas, acting-Bishop by the grace of political mach- 
 ination, could have witnessed the- stirring drama then in 
 progress in ancient Simiti, he would- have laughed aloud at the 
 complete fulfillment of his carefully wrought plans. The cun- 
 ning of the shrewd, experienced politician had never been more 
 clearly manifested than in the carrying out of the little pro- 
 gram which he had set for the unwise Alcalde of this almost 
 unknown little town, whereby the hand of Congress should be 
 forced and the inevitable revolt inaugurated. Don Mario had 
 seized the government arms, the deposition of which in Simiti 
 in his care had constituted him more than ever the representa- 
 tive of federal authority. But, in his wild zeal, he had fallen 
 into the trap which Wenceslas had carefully arranged for him, 
 and now was engaged in a mad attack upon the Church itself, 
 upon ecclesiastical authority as vested in the priest Jose. How 
 could Wenceslas interpret this but as an anticlerical upris- 
 ing? There remained but the final scene. And while the soft- 
 headed dupes and maniacal supporters of Don Mario were 
 
 310 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 hurling bullets into the thick doors of the old church in Simiti, 
 Wenceslas sat musing in his comfortable study in the cathedral 
 of Cartagena, -waiting with what patience he could command 
 for further reports from Don Mario, whose last letter had in- 
 formed him that the arrest of the priest Jose and his unfortu- 
 nate victim. Carmen, was only a few hours off. 
 
 When the first shots rang out, and the bullets ploughed into 
 the hard wood of the heavy doors, Jose's heart sank, and he 
 gave himself up as lost. Lazaro and Juan cowered upon the 
 floor. Carmen crept close to Jose, as he sat limply upon a bench, 
 and put her arms about him. 
 
 "Padre dear," she whispered, "it isnt true — it isn't true! 
 They don't really want to kill us! They don't — really! Their 
 thoughts have only the minus sign!" 
 
 The priest clasped her to his breast. The recriminating 
 thought flashed over him that he alone was the cause of this. 
 He had sacrificed them all — none but he was to blame. Ah, 
 God above! if he could only offer himself to satiate the mob's 
 lust, and save these innocent ones! Lurid, condemnatory 
 thoughts burned through his brain like molten iron. He rose 
 hastily and rushed to the door. Rosendo and Don Jorge seized 
 him as he was about to lift a prop. 
 
 "What do you mean. Padre?" they exclaimed. 
 
 "I am going out, friends — I shall give myself to them for 
 you all. It is the only way. I am the one they seek. Let them 
 have me, if they will spare you!" 
 
 But the firing had ceased, and Don Mario was approaching 
 the door. Jose bent down and called to him. "Myself for the 
 others, Don Mario!" he cried. "But promise to spare them — 
 but give me your word — and I will yield myself to arrest!" 
 
 "Caramba, fool priest!" shouted the Alcalde in derision. 
 "It is not you that the good Bishop wants, but the girl ! I have 
 his letters demanding that I send her to him ! If you will come 
 out, you shall not be hurt. Only, Rosendo must stand trial 
 for the harm he did in the fight this morning; and the girl must 
 go to Cartagena. As for the rest of you, you will be free. Are 
 the terms not reasonable? Give me your answer in five 
 minutes." 
 
 Jose turned to the little band. There was awful determina- 
 tion in his voice. "Juan and Lazaro," he said, "we will open a 
 window quickly in the rear of the church and let you out. It 
 is not right that you should die with us. And Don Jorge, 
 too—" 
 
 "Stop there, amigo!" interrupted the latter in a voice as 
 cold as steel, "My life has not the value of a white heron. 
 Can I do better than give it for a cause that I know to be right? 
 Nay, man, I remain with you. Let the lads go, if they will — " 
 
 311 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Lazaro forced himself between Don Jorge and the priest. 
 "Padre," he said quietly, "to you I owe what I am. I remain 
 here." ' 
 
 Jose looked through the gloom at Juan. The boy's eyes 
 were fixed on Carmen. He turned and gazed for a moment at 
 a window, as if hesitating between two decisions. Then he 
 shook his head slowly. "Padre," he said, though his voice 
 trembled, "I, too, remain." 
 
 The Alcalde received his answer with a burst of inarticulate 
 rage. He rushed back to his followers with his arms waving 
 wildly. "Shoot!" he screamed. "Shoot! Pierce the doors! 
 Batter them down ! Xlompadres, get the poles and burst in the 
 shutters. Caramba! it is the Government they are defying!" 
 
 A volley from the rifles followed his words. The thick 
 doors shook under the blast. A bullet pierced the wall and 
 whizzed past Carmen. Jose seized the girl and drew her down 
 under a bench. The startled bats among the roof beams flut- 
 tered wildly about through the heaVy gloom. Frightened rats 
 scurried around the altar. The rusty bell in the tower cried 
 out as if in protest against the sacrilege. Juan burst into tears 
 and crept beneath a bench, 
 
 "Padre," said Rosendo, "it is only a question of time when 
 the doors -mil fall. See — that bullet went clean through! 
 Bien, let us place the women back of the altar, while we men 
 stand here at one side of the doors, so that when they fall we 
 may dash out and cut our way through the crowd. If we 
 throw ourselves suddenly upon them, we may snatch away a 
 rifle or two. Then Don Jorge and I, with the lads here, may 
 drive them back — perhaps beat them ! But my first blow shall 
 be for Don Mario! I vow here that, if I escape this place, he 
 shall not live another hour!" 
 
 "Better so, Rosendo, than that they should take us alive. 
 But — 'Carmen? Do we leave her to fall into Don Mario's 
 hands?" 
 
 Rosendo's voice, low and cold, froze the marrow in the 
 priest's bones. "Padre, she will not fall into the Alcalde's 
 hands." 
 
 "God above! Rosendo, do you — " 
 
 A piercing cry checked him. "Santa VirgenI Padre — /" 
 Lazaro had collapsed upon the floor. Rosendo and Jose hurried 
 to him. 
 
 "Padre!" The man's breath came in gasps. "Padre — I 
 confess — ^pray for me. It struck me — here!" He struggled to 
 lay a hand upon his bleeding breast. 
 
 "To the altar, amigos!" cried Don Jorge, ducking his head 
 as a bullet sang close to it. 
 
 312 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Seizing the expiring Lazaro, they hurriedly dragged him 
 down the aisle and took refuge back of the brick altar. The 
 bullets, now piercing the walls of the church with ease, whizzed 
 about them. One struck the pendant figure of the 'Christ, and 
 it fell crashing to the floor. Rosendo stood in horror, as if he 
 expected a miracle to follow this act of sacrilege. 
 
 "Oh, God!" prayed Jose, ''only Thy hand can save us!" 
 
 "He will save us. Padre — He will!" cried Carmen, creeping 
 closer to him through the darkness. "God is everywhere, and 
 right here!" 
 
 "Padre," said Don Jorge hurriedly, "the Host — is it on the 
 altar?" 
 
 "Yes — why?" replied the priest. 
 
 "Then, when the doors fall, do you stand in front of the 
 altar, holding it aloft and calling on the people to stand back, 
 lest the hand of God strike them!" 
 
 Jose hesitated not. "It is a chance — ^yes, a bare chance. 
 They will stop before it — or they will kill me! But I will do 
 it!" 
 
 "Padre! You shall not- — Padre! Then I shall stand with 
 you!" Carmen's voice broke clear and piercing through the 
 din. Jose struggled to free himself from her. 
 
 "Na, Padre," interposed Rosendo, "it may be better so ! Let 
 her stand with you! But — Caramba! Make haste!" 
 
 The clamor without increased. Heavy poles and billets of 
 wood had been fetched, and blow after blow now fell upon 
 every shutter and door. The sharp spitting of the rifles tore 
 the air, and bullets crashed through the walls and windows. 
 In the heavy shadows back of the altar Rosendo and Don 
 Jorge crouched over the sobbing women. Lazaro lay very still. 
 Jose knew as he stretched out a hand through the darkness 
 and touched the cold face that the faithful spirit had fled. 
 How soon his own would follow he knew not, nor cared. Keep- 
 ing close to the floor, he crept out and around to the front of 
 the altar. Reaching up, he grasped the Sacred Host, and then 
 stood upright, holding it out before him. Carmen rose by his 
 side and took his hand. Together in the gloom they waited. 
 
 313 
 
 30 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 CHAPTER 33 
 
 "T)ADRE! Padre! are you alive?" 
 h"^ Rosendo's hoarse whisper drifted across the silence 
 like a wraith. He crept out and along the floor, scarce 
 daring to look up. Through the darkness his straining eyes 
 caught the outlines of the two figures standing like statues 
 before the altar. 
 
 "Loado sea DiosI" he cried, and his voice broke with a sob. 
 "But, Padre, they have stopped — what has happened?" 
 
 "I know not, amigo. Be patient. We are in the hands of 
 God—" 
 
 "Padre — listen!" Carmen darted from the altar and ran to 
 the door. "Padre!" she called back. "Come! Some one is 
 speaking English!" 
 
 Jose and Rosendo hurried to the door. All was quiet with- 
 out, but for an animated conversation between Don Mario and 
 some strangers who had evidently just arrived upon the scene. 
 One of the latter was speaking with the Alcalde in excellent 
 Spanish. Another, evidently unacquainted with the language, 
 made frequent interruptions in the English tongue. Josh's 
 heart beat wildly. 
 
 "Say, Reed," said the voice in English, "tell the parchment- 
 faced old buzzard that we appreciate the little comedy he has 
 staged for us. Tell him it is buUy-bueno, but he must not 
 overdo it. We ate iplum done up, and want a few days of rest." 
 
 "What says the sefior, amigo?" asked Don Mario, with his 
 utmost suavity and unction of manner. 
 
 "He says," returned the other in Spanish, "that he is de- 
 lighted with the firmness which you display in the administra- 
 tion of your office, and that he trusts the bandits within the 
 church may be speedily executed." 
 
 "Bandits!" ejaculated Don Mario. "Just so, amigo! They 
 are those who defy the Government as represented by myself!" 
 He straightened up and threw out his chest with such an ex- 
 hibition of importance that the strangers with difficulty kept 
 their faces straight. 
 
 Carmen and Jos6 looked at each other in amazement during 
 this colloquy. 
 
 "Padre!" exclaimed the girl. "Do all who speak English 
 tell such lies?" 
 
 "Ah!" murmured the one addressed as Reed, directing him- 
 self to the Alcalde, "how dared they! But, senor, my friend 
 and I have come to your beautiful city on business of the ut- 
 
 314 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 most importance, in which you doubtless will share largely. 
 I would suggest," looking with amusement at the array of 
 armed men about him, "that your prisoners are in no imme- 
 diate likelihood of escaping, and you might leave them under 
 close guard while we discuss our business. A — a — ^we hear re- 
 ports, seiior, that there is likely to be trouble in the country, 
 and we are desirous of getting out as «oon as possible." 
 
 "Cierto! Cierto, senoresl" exclaimed Don Mario, bowing 
 low. "It shall be as you say." Turning to the gaping people, 
 he selected several to do guard duty, dismissed the others, and 
 then bade the strangers follow him to his house, which, he 
 declared vehemently, was theirs as long as they might honor 
 him with their distinguished presence. 
 
 The sudden turn of events left the little group within the 
 church in a maze of bewilderment. They drew together in the 
 center of the room and talked in low whispers until the sun 
 dropped behind the hills and night drifted through the quiet 
 streets. Late that evening came a tapping at the rear door of 
 the church, and a voice called softly to the priest. Jose roused 
 out of his gloomy revery and hastened to answer it. 
 
 "It is Fernando, Padre. I am on guard; but no one must 
 know that I talk with you. But — Padre, if you open the door 
 and escape, I will not see you. I am sorry. Padre, but it could 
 not be helped. Don Mario has us all frightened, for the 
 Bishop—" 
 
 "True, amigo," returned Jose; "but the strangers who ar- 
 rived this afternoon — who are they, and whence?" 
 
 "Two Americanos, Padre, and miners." 
 
 Jose studied a moment. "Fernando — ^you would aid me? 
 Bien, get word to the stranger who speaks both English and 
 Spanish. Bring him here, secretly, and stand guard yourself 
 while I talk with him." 
 
 "Gladly, Padre," returned the penitent fellow, as he 
 hastened quietly away. 
 
 An hour later Jose was again roused by Fernando tapping 
 on the door. 
 
 "Open, Padre. Fear not; only the Americano will enter. 
 Don Mario does not know." 
 
 Jose lifted the prop and swung the door open. Rosendo 
 stood with uplifted machete. A man entered from the black- 
 ness without. Jose quickly closed the door, and then addressed 
 him in English. 
 
 "Great Scott!" exclaimed the stranger in a mellow voice. 
 "I had no idea I should find any one in this God-forsaken town 
 who could speak real United States!" 
 
 Jose drew him into the sacristia. Neither man could see 
 the other in the dense blackness. 
 
 315 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Tell me, friend," began Jose, "who you are, and where 
 you come from." 
 
 "Reed — Charles Reed— New York — mining engineer— down 
 here to examine the so-called mines of the Molino Company, 
 now gasping its last while awaiting our report. Arrived this 
 afternoon from Radillo with my partner, fellow named Harris. 
 Rut — great heavens, man! you certainly were in a stew when 
 we appeared! And why don't you escape now?" 
 
 "Escape, friend? Where? Even if we passed the guard, 
 where would we go? There are two women, a girl, and a babe 
 with us. We have little food and no money. Should we gain 
 the Roque or Guamoco trail, we would be pursued and shot 
 down. There is a chance here — none in flight ! 
 
 "Rut now, Mr. Reed," continued Jose earnestly, "will you 
 get word from me to the Rishop in Cartagena that our church 
 has been attacked — that its priest is besieged by the Alcalde, 
 and his life in jeopardy?" 
 
 "Assuredly — but how?" 
 
 "You have money?" said Jos6, speaking rapidly. "Good. 
 Your bogas have not returned to Radillo?" 
 
 "No, they are staying here for the big show. Execution of 
 the traitors, you know." 
 
 "Then, friend, send them at dawn to Rodega Central. Let 
 them take a message to be sent by the telegraph from that 
 place. Tell the Rishop — " 
 
 "Sure!" interrupted the other. "Leave it to me. I'll fix up 
 a message that will bring him by return boat ! I've been talking 
 with the Honorable Alcalde and I've got his exact number. 
 Say, he certainly is the biggest damn — beg pardon; I mean, 
 the biggest numbskull I have ever run across — and that's say- 
 ing considerable for a mining man!" 
 
 "Go, friend!" said Jose, making no other. reply to the man's 
 words. "Go quickly^and use what influence you have with 
 the Alcalde to save us. We have women here — and a young 
 girl!" He found the American's hand and led him out into the 
 night. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Wenceslas Ortiz stood before the Departmental Governor. 
 His face was deeply serious, and his demeanor expressed the 
 utmost gravity. In his hand he held a despatch. The Governor 
 sat at his desk, nervously fumbling a pen. 
 
 "Bien, Senor," said Wenceslas quietly, "do you act — or 
 shall I take it to His Excellency, the President?" 
 
 The Governor moved uneasily in his chair. "Carambal" he 
 blurted out. "The report is too meager! And yet, I cannot 
 see but that the Alcalde acted wholly within his rights!" 
 
 316 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Your Excellency, he seizes government arms — he attacks 
 the church — he attempts to destroy the life of its priest. Nomi- 
 nally acting for the Government ; at heart, anticlerical. Is it not 
 evident? Will the Government clear itself now of the suspicion 
 ■which this has aroused?" 
 
 "But the priest — did you not say only last week that he 
 himself had published a book violently anticlerical in tone?" 
 
 "Seiior, we will not discuss the matter further," said Wen- 
 ceslas, moving toward the door. "Your final decision — ^you 
 will send troops to Simiti, or no?" 
 
 "Certainly not! The evidence warrants no interference 
 from me!" 
 
 Wenceslas courteously bowed himself out. Once beyond 
 the door, he breathed a great sigh of relief. "Santa Virgen!" 
 he muttered, "but I took a chance! Had he yielded and sent 
 troops, all would have been spoiled. Now for Bogota!" 
 
 He entered his carriage and was driven hurriedly to his 
 sanctum. There he despatched a long message to the President 
 of the Republic. At noon he had a reply. He mused over it 
 for the space of an hour. Then he framed another despatch. 
 "Your Excellency," it read, "the Church supports the Adminis- 
 tration." 
 
 Late that evening a second message from Bogotd was put 
 into his hand. He tore it open and read, "The Hercules ordered 
 to Simiti." 
 
 "Ah," he sigh«d, sinking into his chair. "At last! The 
 President interferes ! And now a wire to Ames. And — 
 Caramba, yes! A message to the captain of the Hercules to 
 bring me that girl!" 
 
 "Well, old man, I've done all I could to stave off the blun- 
 dering idiot; but I guess you are in for it! The jig is up, I'm 
 thinking!" 
 
 It was Reed talking. Simiti again slept, while the American 
 and Jose in the sacristia talked long and earnestly. Fernando 
 kept guard at the door. The other prisoners lay wrapped in 
 slumber. 
 
 "Your message went down the river two days ago," con- 
 tinued Reed. "And, believe me! since then I've racked my 
 dusty brain for tofjics to keep the Alcalde occupied and for- 
 getful of you. But I'm dryer than a desert now; and he vows 
 that to-morrow you and your friends will be dragged out of 
 this old shack by your necks, and then shot." 
 
 The two days had been filled with exquisite torture for Jose. 
 Only the presence of Carmen restrained him from rushing out 
 and ending it all. Her faith had been his constant marvel. 
 
 317 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Every hour, every moment, she knew only the immanence of 
 her God; whereas he, obedient to the undulating Rincon char- 
 acter-curve, expressed the mutability of his faith in hourly 
 alternations of optimism and black despair. After periods of 
 exalted hope, stimulated by the girl's sublime confidence, there 
 would come the inevitable backward rush of all the chilling 
 fear, despondency, and false thought which he had just ex- 
 pelled in vain, and he would be left again floundering helplessly 
 in the dismal labyrinth of terrifying doubts. 
 
 The quiet which enwrapped them during these days of im- 
 prisonment; the gloom-shrouded church; the awed hush that 
 lay upon them in the presence of the dead Lazaro, stimulated 
 the feeble and sensitive spirit of the priest to an unwonted 
 degree of introspection, and he sat for hours gazing blankly 
 into the ghastly emptiness of his past. 
 
 He saw how at the first, when Carmen entered his life with 
 the stimulus of her buoyant faith, there had seemed to follow 
 an emptying of self, a quick clearing of his mentality, and a 
 replacement of much of the morbid thought, which clung 
 limpet-like to his mentality, by new and wonderfully illuminat- 
 ing ideas. For a while he had seemed to be on the road to 
 salvation; he felt that he had touched the robe of the Christ, 
 and heavenly virtue had entered into his being. 
 
 . But then the shadows began to gather once more. He did 
 not cling to the new truths and spiritual ideas tenaciously 
 enough to work them out in demonstration. He had proved 
 shallow soil, whereon the seed had fallen, only to be choked 
 by the weeds which grew apace therein. The troubles which 
 clustered thick about him after his first few months in Simiti 
 had seemed to hamper his freer limbs, and check his upward 
 progress. Constant conflict with Diego, with Don Mario, and 
 Wenceslas; the pressure from his mother and his uncle, had 
 kept him looking, now at evil, now at good, giving life and 
 power to each in turn, and wrestling incessantly with the false 
 , concepts which his own mentality kept ever alive. Worrying 
 himself free from one set of human beliefs, he fell again into the 
 meshes of others. Though he thought he knew the truth — 
 though he saw it lived and demonstrated by Carmen — he had 
 yet been afraid to throw himself unreservedly upon his convic- 
 tions. And so he daily paid the dire penalty which error failed 
 not to exact. 
 
 But Carmen, the object of by far the greater part of all his 
 anxious thought, had moved as if in response to a beckoning 
 hand that remained invisible to him. Each day she had grown 
 more beautiful. And each day, too, she had seemed to draw 
 farther away from him, as she rose steadily out of the limited 
 
 318 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 encompassment in which they dwelt. Not by conscious design 
 did she appear to separate from him, but inevitably, because of 
 his own narrow capacity for true spiritual intercourse with 
 such a soul as hers. He shared her ideals; he had sought in 
 his way to attain them; he had striven, too, to comprehend her 
 spirit, which in his heart he knew to be a bright reflection ot 
 the infinite Spirit which is God. But as the years passed he 
 had found his efforts to be like her more and more clumsy and 
 blundering, and his responses to her spiritual demands less and 
 less vigorous. At times he seemed to catch glimpses of her 
 soul that awed him. At others he would feel himself half in- 
 clined to share the people's belief that she was possessed of 
 powers occult. And then he would sink into despair of ever 
 understanding the girl — for he knew that to do so he must be 
 like her, even- as to understand God we must become like Him. 
 
 After her fourteenth birthday Jose found himself rapidly 
 ceasing to regard Carmen as a mere child. Not that she did 
 not still often seem delightfully immature, when her spirits 
 would flow wildly, and she would draw him into the frolics 
 which had yielded her such extravagant joy in former days; 
 but that the growth of knowledge and the rapid development of 
 her thought had seemed to bring to her a deepening sense of 
 responsibility, a growing impression of maturity, and an in- 
 creasing regard for the meaning of life and her part in it. She 
 had ceased to insist that she would never leave Simiti. And 
 Jose often thought of late, as he watched her, that he detected 
 signs of irksomeness at the limitations which her environment 
 imposed upon her. But, if so, these were never openly ex- 
 pressed; nor did her manner ever change toward her foster- 
 parents, or toward the simple and uncomprehending folk of 
 her native town. 
 
 From the first, Jose had constituted himself her teacher, 
 guide, and protector. And she had joyously accepted him. 
 His soured and rebellious nature had been no barrier to her 
 great love, which had twined about his heart like ivy around a 
 crumbling tower. And his love for the child had swelled like a 
 torrent, fed hourly by countless uncharted streams. He had 
 watched over her like a father; he had rejoiced to see her 
 bloom into a beauty as rich and luxuriant as the tropical 
 foliage; he had gazed for hours into the unsearchable abyss of 
 her black eyes and read there, in ecstasy, a wondrous response 
 to his love ; and when, but a few short days ago, she had again 
 intimated a future union, a union upon which, even as a child, 
 she had insisted, yet one which he knew — had always known — 
 utterly, extravagantly impossible — he had, nevertheless, seized 
 upon the thought with a joy that was passionate, desperate — 
 
 319 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 and had then flung it from him with a cry, of agony. It was 
 not the disparity of ages; it was not the girl's present imma- 
 turity. In less than a year she would have attained the mar- 
 riageable age of these Latin countries. But he could wait two, 
 three, aye, ten years for such a divine ^ift! No; the shadow 
 which lay upon his life was cast by the huge presence of the 
 master whose chains he wore, the iron links of which, galling 
 his soul, he knew to be unbreakable. And, as he sat in the 
 gloom of the decayed old church where he was now a prisoner, 
 the thought that his situation but symbolized an imprisonment 
 in bonds eternal roused him to a half-frenzied resolve to destroy 
 himself. 
 
 "Padre dear," the girl had whispered to him that night, 
 just before the American came again with his disquieting re- 
 port, "Love will open the door— Love will set us- free. We are 
 not afraid. Remember, Paul thanked God for freedom even 
 while he sat in chains. And I am just as thankful as he." 
 
 Jose knew as he kissed her tenderly and bade her go to her 
 place of rest on the bench beside Dona Maria that death stood 
 between her and the stained hand of Wenceslas Ortiz. 
 
 As movning reddened in the eastern sky Don Mario, sur- 
 rounded by an armed guard and preceded by his secretary, 
 who beat lustily upon a small drum* marched pompously down 
 the main street and across the plaza to the church. Holding his 
 cane aloft he ascended the steps of the platform and again 
 loudly- demanded the surrender of the prisoners within. 
 
 "On what terms, Don Mario?" asked Jos6. 
 
 "The same," reiterated the Alcalde vigorously. 
 
 Jose sighed. "Then we will die, Don Mario," he replied 
 sadly, moving away from the door and leading his little band 
 of harried followers to the rear of the altar. 
 
 The Alcalde quickly descended the steps and shouted nu- 
 merous orders. Several of his men hurried off in various direc- 
 tions, while those remaining at once opened fire upon the 
 church. In a few moments the firing was increased, and the 
 entire attack was concentrated upon the front doors. 
 
 The din without became horrible. Shouts and curses filled 
 the morning air. But it was evident to Jose that his besiegers 
 were meeting with no opposition from his own supporters in 
 the fight of two days before. The sight of the deadly rifles in 
 the hands of Don Mario's party had quickly quenched their 
 loyalty to Josd, and led them basely to abandon him and his 
 companions to their fate. 
 
 After a few minutes of vigorous assault the attack abruptly 
 ceased, and Jose was called again to the door,, 
 
 "It's Reed," came the American's voice. He spoke in 
 
 320 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 English. "I've persuaded the old carrion to let me have a 
 moment's pow-wow with you. Say, give the old buzzard what 
 he wants. Otherwise it's sure death for you all. I've argued 
 myself sick with him, but he's as set as concrete. I'll do what 
 I can for you if you come out; but he's going to have the girl, 
 whether or no. Seems that the Bishop of Cartagena wants 
 her; and the old crow here is playing politics with him." 
 
 "Yes, old man," chimed in another voice, which Jose knew 
 to be that of Harris. "You know these fellows are hell on 
 politics." 
 
 "Shut up, Harris!" growled Reed. Then to Jose, "What'll 
 I tell the old duffer?" 
 
 "Lord Harry!" ejaculated Harris, "if I had a couple of 
 Mausers I could put these ancient Springfields on the bum in 
 a hurry!" 
 
 "Tell him, friend, that we are prepared to die," replied 
 Jose drearily, as he turned back into the gloom and took Car- 
 men's hand. 
 
 The final assault began, and Jose knew that it was only a 
 question of minutes when the trembling doors would fall. He 
 crouched with his companions behind the altar, awaiting the 
 inevitable. Carmen held his hand tightly. 
 
 "Love will save us, Padre," she whispered. "Love them ! 
 Love them, Padre ! They don't know what is using them — and 
 it has no power! God is here — ^is everywhere! Love will save 
 
 us 
 
 Rosendo bent over and whispered to Don Jorge, "When 
 the doors fall and the men rush in, stand you here with me! 
 When they reach the altar we will throw ourselves upon them, 
 I first, you following, while Juan will bring Carmen and try 
 to protect her. With our machetes we will cut our way out. 
 If we find that it is hopeless^-then give me Carmen!" 
 
 A moment later, as with a loud wail, the two front doors 
 burst asunder and fell crashing to the floor. A flood of golden 
 sunlight poured into the dark room. In its yellow wake rushed 
 the mob, with exultant yells. Rosendo rose quickly and placed " 
 himself at the head of his little band. 
 
 But, ere the first of the frenzied besiegers had crossed the 
 threshold of the church, a loud cry arose in the plaza. 
 
 "The soldiers! ■ Dios arriba! The soldiers!" 
 
 Down the main thoroughfare came a volley of shots. Don 
 Mario, half way through the church door, froze in his tracks. 
 Those of his followers who had entered, turned quickly and 
 made pellmell for the exit. Their startled gaze met a com- 
 pany of federal troops rushing down the street, firing as they 
 came. Don Mario strained after his flying wits. 
 
 321 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Close the doors!" he yelled. But the doors were ptone 
 upon the floor, and could not be replaced. Then he and his 
 men scrambled out and rushed around to one side of the build- 
 ing. As the soldiers came running up, the Alcalde's followers 
 fired point blank into their faces, then dropped their guns and 
 fled precipitately. 
 
 It was all over in a trice. Within an hour staid old Simiti 
 lay in the grip of martial law, with its once overweening Al- 
 calde, now a meek and frightened prisoner, arraigned before 
 Captain Morales, holding court in the shabby town hall. 
 
 But the court-martial was wholly perfunctory. Though 
 none there but himself knew it, the captain had come with the 
 disposal of the unfortunate Don Mario prearranged. A per- 
 functory hearing of witnesses, which but increased his approval 
 of his orders, and he pronounced sentence upon the former 
 Alcalde, and closed the case. 
 
 "Attack upon the church — Assassination of the man Lazaro 
 — Firing upon federal soldiers — To be shot at sunset, senor," 
 he concluded solemnly. 
 
 Don Mario sank to the floor in terror. "Caramba! caramba!" 
 he howled. "But I had letters from the Bishop ! I was ordered 
 by him to do it!" 
 
 "Bien, senor," replied the captain, whose heart was not 
 wholly devoid of pity, "produce your letters." 
 
 "Dios arriba! I burned them! He said I should! I obeyed 
 him! Caramba! I am lost — lost!" 
 
 "Senor Capitdn," interposed Jose, "may I plead for the man? 
 He is—" 
 
 "There, Padre," returned the captain, holding up a hand, 
 "it is useless. Doubtless this has been brought about by motives 
 which you do not understand. It is unfortunate— but inevitable. 
 You have a carcel here? Bien," addressing his lieutenant, "re- 
 move the prisoner to it, and at sunset let the sentence be car- 
 ried out." 
 
 Don Mario, screaming with fear, was dragged from the 
 room. 
 
 "And now, sefiores," continued the captain calmly, as if 
 nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, "I appoint Don Fer- 
 nando, former secretary, as temporary Alcalde, until such time 
 as the Governor may fill the office permanently. And," he con- 
 tinued, looking about the room with a heavy scowl, while the 
 timid people shrank against the wall, "as for those misguided 
 ones who took part with Don Mario in this anticlerical up- 
 rising — his fate will serve, I think, as a warning!" 
 
 A hush of horror lay upon the stunned people as they filed 
 slowly out of the room. 
 
 322 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Bien," added the captain, addressing Fernando, "quarters 
 for my men, and rations. We return to the Hercules at day- 
 break. And let all arms and ammunition be collected. Every 
 house must be searched. And we shall want peones to carry 
 it to the river." 
 
 Jose turned away, sick with the horror of it all. A soldier 
 approached him with a message from Don Mario. The con- 
 demned man was asking for the last rites. Faint and trembling, 
 the priest accompanied the messenger to the jail. 
 
 "Padre! Dios arribal" wailed the terrified and bewildered 
 Don Mario. "It was a mistake ! Don Wenceslas — " 
 
 "Yes, I understand, Don Mario," interrupted Jose, tenderly 
 taking the man's hand. "He told you to do it." 
 
 "Yes, Padre," sobbed the unfortunate victim. "He said that 
 I would be rich — that I would be elected to Congress — ah, the 
 traitor! And, Padre^I burned his letters because it was his 
 wish! Ah, Santa Virgen!" He put his head on the priest's 
 shoulder and wept violently. 
 
 Jose's heart was wrung; but he was powerless to aid the 
 man. And yet, as he dwelt momentarily on his own sorrows, 
 he almost envied the fate which had overtaken the misguided 
 Don Mario. 
 
 The lieutenant entered. "Senor Padre," he said, "the sun is 
 low. In a quarter of an hour — " 
 
 Don Mario sank to the ground and clasped the priest's knees. 
 Jos6 held up his hand, and the lieutenant, bowing courteously, 
 withdrew. The priest knelt beside the cowering prisoner. 
 
 "Don Mario," he said gently, holding the man's hand, "con- 
 fess all to me. It may be the means of saving other lives — and 
 then you will have expiated your own crimes." 
 
 "Padre," moaned the Tstricken man, rocking back and forth, 
 his head buried in his hands and tears streaming through his 
 fingers, "Padre, you will forgive — ?" 
 
 "Aye, Don Mario, everything. And the Christ forgives. 
 Your sins are remitted. But remove now the last burden from 
 your soul — the guilty knowledge of the part Don Wenceslas has 
 had in the disaster which has come upon Simiti. Tell it all, 
 friend, for you may save many precious lives thereby." 
 
 The fallen Alcalde roused himself by a mighty effort. For- 
 getting for the moment his own dire predicament, he opened 
 his heart. Jose sat before him in wide-mouthed astonishment. 
 Don Mario's confession brought a revelation that left him cold. 
 The lieutenant entered again. 
 
 "One moment," said Jose. Then, to Don Mario : "And Car- 
 men?" 
 
 Don Mario leaned close to the priest and whispered low. 
 
 323 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "No, she is not Diego's child! And, Padre, take her away, at 
 once ! But out of the country ! There is not an inch of ground 
 in all Colombia now where she would be safe from Don Wen- 
 ceslas!" 
 
 Jose's head sank upon his breast. Then he again took Don 
 Mario's hand. 
 
 "Friend," he said gravely, "rest assured, what you have told 
 me saves at least one life, and removes the sin with which your 
 own was stained. And now," rising and turning to the waiting 
 lieutenant, "we are ready." < 
 
 Ora pro nobis! Ora pro nobis! Santa Virgen, San Salvador, 
 ora pro nobis! 
 
 A few minutes l&ter a sharp report echoed through the 
 Simiti valley and startled the herons that were seeking their 
 night's rest on the wooded isle. Then Jose de Rinc6n, alone, 
 and with a heart of lead, moved slowly down through the dreary 
 village and crossed the deserted plaza to his lowly abode. 
 
 CHAPTER 34 
 
 THE low-hung moon, shrouded in heavy vapor, threw an 
 eldritch shimmer upon the little group that silently bore 
 the body of the martyred Lazaro from the old church late 
 that night to the dreary cemetery on the hill. Jose took but a 
 reluctant part in the proceedings. He would even have avoided 
 this last service to his faithful friend if he could. It seemed 
 ' to him as he stumbled along the stony road behind the body 
 which Rosendo and Dpn Jorge carried that his human endur- 
 ance had been strained so far beyond the elastic limit that there 
 could now be no rebound. Every thought that touched his sore 
 mind made it bleed anew, for every thought that he accepted 
 was acrid, rasping, oppressive. The sheer weight of foreboding, 
 of wild apprehension, of paralyzing fear, crushjed him, until his 
 shoulders bent low as he walked. How, lest he perform a mira- 
 cle, could he hope to extricate himself and his loved ones from 
 the meshes of the net, far-cast, but with unerring aim, which 
 had fallen upon them? 
 
 As he passed the town hall he saw through the open door 
 the captain's cot, and a guard standing motionless beside it. 
 The captain had elected to remain there for the night, while 
 his. men found a prickly hospitality among the cowering towns- 
 folk. Josd knew now that the hand which Don Mario had 
 dealt himself in the game inaugurated by Wenceslas had been 
 from a stacked deck. He knew that the President of the Re- 
 
 324 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 public had ordered Morales to this inoffensive little town to 
 quell an alleged anticlerical uprising, and that the execution 
 of the misguided Alcalde had been determined long before the 
 Hercules had got under way. He could see that it was necessary 
 for the Government to sacrifice its agent in the person of the 
 Alcalde, in order to prove its own loyalty to the Church. And 
 in return therefor he knew it would expect, not without reason, 
 the cooperation of the Church in case the President's inter- 
 ference in the province of Bolivar should precipitate a general 
 revolt. 
 
 But what had been determined upon as his own fate? He 
 had not the semblance of an idea. From the confession of the 
 ruined Alcalde he now knew that Don Mario had been poisoned 
 against him from the beginning; that even the letter* of intro- 
 duction which Wenceslas had given him to the Alcalde con- 
 tained the charge of his having accomplished the ruin of the 
 girl Maria in Cartagenat and of his previous incarceration in 
 the monastery of Palazzola. And Don Mario had confessed in 
 his last moments that Wenceslas had sought to work through 
 him and Jose in the hope that the location of the famous mine, 
 La Libertad, might be revealed. Don Mario had been instructed 
 to get what he could out of this scion of Rinc6n; and only his 
 own greed and cupidity had caused him to play fast and loose 
 with both sides until, falling before the allurements which Wen- 
 ceslas held out, he had rushed madly into his own destruction. 
 Jose realized that so far he himself had proved extremely useful 
 to Wenceslas — but had his usefulness ended? At these thoughts 
 his soul momentarily suffused with the pride of the old and 
 hectoring Rincon stock and rose, instinct with revolt — but only 
 to sink again in helpless resignation, while the shadow of de- 
 spair rolled in and quenched his feeble determination. 
 
 Rosendo arid Don Jorge placed the body in one of the vacant 
 vaults and filled the entrance with some loose bricks. Then 
 they stood back expectantly. It was now the priest's turn. He 
 had a part to perform, out there on the bleak hilltop in the 
 ghostly light. But Jose remained motionless and silent, his 
 head sunk upon his breast. 
 
 Then Rosendo, waxing troubled, spoke in gentle admonition. 
 "He would expect it, you know. Padre." 
 
 Jose turned away from the lonely vault. Bitter tears coursed 
 down his cheeks, and his voice broke. He laid his head on 
 Rosendo's stalwart shoulder and wept aloud. 
 
 The sickly, greenish cast of the moonlight silhouetted the 
 figures of the three men in grotesque shapes against the ceme- 
 tery wall and the crumbling tombs. The morose call of a 
 toucan floated weirdly upon the heavy air. The faint wail of 
 
 825 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the frogs in the shallow waters below rose like the despairing 
 sighs of lost souls. 
 
 Rosendo wound his long arm about the sorrowing priest. 
 Don Jorge's muscles knotted, and a muttered imprecation rose 
 from his tight lips. Strangely had the shift and coil of the 
 human mind thrown together these three men, so different in 
 character, yet standing now in united protest against the misery 
 which men heap upon their fellow-men in the name of Christ. 
 Jose, the apostate agent of Holy Churchy his hands bound, and 
 his heart bursting with yearning toward his fellow-men; Ro- 
 sendo, simple-minded and faithful, chained to the Church by 
 heredity and association, yet ashamed of its abuses and lusts; 
 Don Jorge, fierce in his denunciation of the political and reli- 
 gious sham and hypocrisy which he saw masking behind the 
 cloak of imperial religion. 
 
 "I hgve nothing to say, friends," moaned Jose, raising his 
 head; "nothing that would not still further reveal my own 
 miserable weakness and the despicable falsity of the Church. 
 If the Church had followed the Christ, it would have taught me 
 to do likewise; and I should now call to L^zaro and bid him 
 come forth, instead of shamefully confessing my impotency and 
 utter lack of spirituality, even while I pose as an Alter Christus." 
 
 "You — ^you will leave a blessing with him before we go, 
 Padre?" queried the anxious Rosendo, clinging still to the 
 frayed edge of his fathers' faith. 
 
 "My blessing, Rosendo," replied Jose sadly, "would do no 
 good. He lies there because we have utterly forgotten what 
 the Master came to teach. He lies there because of our false, 
 undemonstrable, mortal beliefs. Oh, that the Church, instead 
 of wasting time murmuring futile prayers over dead bodies, 
 had striven to learn to do the deeds which the Christ said we 
 should all do if we but kept his commandments!'-' 
 
 "But, Padre, you will say Masses for him?" pursued Ro- 
 sendo. 
 
 "Masses? No, I can not — now. I would not take his or 
 your money to give to the Church to get his soul out of an 
 imagined purgatory which the Church long ago invented for 
 the purpose of enriching herself materially — for, alas! after 
 spiritual riches she has had little hankering." 
 
 "To pay God to get His own children out of the flames, 
 eh?" suggested Don Jorge. "It is what I have always said, the 
 religion of the Church is a religion de dinero. If there ever was 
 a God, either He is still laughing Himself sick at our follies — 
 or else He has wept Himself to death over them ! Jesus Christ 
 taught no such stuff!" 
 
 "Friend." said Jose solemnly, turning to Don Jorge, "I long 
 
 326 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 since learned what the whole world must learn some time, that 
 the Church stands to-day, not as the bride of the Christ, but as 
 the incarnation of the human mind, as error opposed to Truth. 
 It is the embodiment of 'Who shall be greatest?' It is one of 
 the various phenomena of the human, mentality; and its ad- 
 herents are the victims of authoritative falsehood. Its Mass 
 and countless other ceremonies differ in no essential respect 
 from ancient pagan worship. Of spirituality it has none. And 
 so it can do none of the works of the Master. Its corrupting 
 faith is foully materialistic. It has been weighed and found 
 wanting. And as the human mind expands, the incoming light 
 must drive out the black beliefs and deeds of Holy Church, else 
 the oncoming centuries will have no place for it." 
 
 "I believe you!" ejaculated Don Jorge. "But why do you 
 still remain a priest? Hombre! I knew when I saw you on 
 the river boat that you were none. But," his voice dropping to 
 a whisper, "there is a soldier in the road below. It would be 
 well to leave. He might think we were here to plot." 
 
 When the soldier had passed, they quietly left the gloomy 
 cemetery and made their way quickly back through the strag- 
 gling moonlight to Rosendo's house. Dona Maria, with char- 
 acteristic quietude, was preparing for the duties of the ap- 
 proaching day. Carmen lay asleep. Jose went to her bedside 
 and bent over her, wondering. What were the events of the 
 past few days in her sight? How did she interpret them? Was 
 her faith still unshaken? What did LAzaro's death and the 
 execution of Don Mario mean to her? Did she, as he had done, 
 look upon them as real events in a real world, created and 
 governed by a good God? Or did she still hold such things to 
 be the unreal phenomena of the human mentality? — unreal, 
 because opposed to God, and without the infinite principle. As 
 for himself, how had the current of his life been diverted by 
 this rare child ! What had she not sought to teach him by her 
 simple faith, her unshaken trust in the immanence of good! 
 True, as a pure reflection of good she had seemed to be the 
 means of stirring up tremendous evil. But had he not seen 
 the evil eventually consume itself, leaving her unscathed? And 
 yet, would this continue? He himself had always conceded to 
 the forces of evil as great power as to those of good— nay, even 
 greater. And even now as he stood looking at her, wrapped in 
 peaceful slumber, his strained sight caught no gleam of hope, 
 no light flashing through the heavy clouds of misfortune that 
 lowered above her. He turned away with an anxious sigh. 
 
 "Padre," said the gentle Dona Maria, "the two Ameri- 
 canos — " 
 
 "Ah, yes," interrupted Jose, suddenly remembering that he 
 
 327 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 had sent word to them to use his house while they remained 
 in the town. "They had escaped my thought. Bien, they 
 are—?" 
 
 "They brought their baggage to your house an hour ago 
 and set up their beds in your living room. They will be asleep 
 by now." 
 
 "Good," he replied, a wistful sense of gratitude stealing over 
 him at the reassuring thought of their presence. "Bien, we will 
 not disturb them." 
 
 Summoning Rosendo and Don Jorge, the three men sought 
 the lake's edge. There, seated on the loose shales, they wrestled 
 with their problem until dawn spread her filmy veil over the 
 shimmering stars. 
 
 ♦ ♦»*♦♦ 
 
 Long before sun-up the soldiers and the peones, whom Cap- 
 tain Morales had impressed, were busy gathering the com- 
 mandeered rifles and carrying them down to the gunboat Her- 
 cules, waiting at the mouth of the Boque river, some six or 
 eight miles distant, and over a wild trail. The townsfolk, 
 thoroughly frightened, hugged the shelter of their homes, and 
 left the streets to the troops. Though they detested the sol- 
 diers, yet none would lightly risk a blow from the heavy hand 
 of Morales, whose authority on a punitive expedition of this 
 sort was unlimited. The summary execution of the Alcalde 
 had stricken them with horror, and left an impression which 
 never would be erased from their memories. 
 
 Immediately after the early desayuno the captain appeared 
 at Rosendo's door. He had come to say farewell to the priest. 
 All of the soldiers had disappeared down the trail, with the 
 exception of the two who formed the captain's small personal 
 escort. 
 
 "Conque, adios, Senor Padre," he called cheerily, as he ap- 
 proached. Jos6 was sitting at table with Rosendo's family and 
 Don Jorge. Instinctively he rose hastily, and seizing Carmen, 
 thrust her into the adjoining bedroom and closed the door. 
 Then he went out to face the captain. 
 
 "Much excitement for your little pueblo, no?" exclaimed the 
 captain with a bluff laugh as he grasped Jose's hand. "But a 
 lesson like this will last a century. I rejoice that I foun4 it 
 unnecessary to burn the town." 
 
 Jose trembled as he replied. "Senor Capitdn, I, too, rejoice. 
 But — the state of the country — ^what may we expect?" 
 
 The captain laughed again, "taramba, Padre mio! who 
 can say? There is much talk, many angry looks, much gestur- 
 ing and waving of hands. Congress still sits. The President 
 sees fit to send me here, without order from the Departmental 
 
 328 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Governor. Hombrel what will follow? Quien sabe?" He 
 shrugged his shoulders with that expressive Latin gesture which 
 indicates complete irresponsibility for and indifference to re- 
 sults. 
 
 Josh's heart began to beat more regularly. He again took 
 the captain's hand. He was eager to see him depart. "Bueno 
 pues, Senor Capitdn," he said hurriedly. "I wish you every 
 felicitation on your return trip. Ah — ah — your orders con- 
 tained no reference to — to me?" he added hesitatingly. 
 
 "None whatever, Senor Padre," replied the captain genially. 
 He turned to go, and Jose stifled a great sigh of relief. But 
 suddenly the captain stopped; then turned again. 
 
 "Carambal" he ejaculated, "I nearly forgot! Hombrel what 
 would His Grace have said?" 
 
 He fumbled in an inner pocket and drew forth a telegraphic 
 document. 
 
 "And you will seize the person of one Rosendo Ariza's 
 daughter and immediately send her with proper conveyance to 
 the Sister Superior of the convent of Our Lady in Cartagena," 
 he read aloud. 
 
 Jose froze to the spot. From within Rosendo's house came 
 a soft, scurrying sound. Then he heard a movement in his 
 own. Morales returned the folded message to his pocket and 
 started to enter the house. Jose could offer no resistance. He 
 was rendered suddenly inert, although vividly conscious of a 
 drama about to be enacted in which he and his loved ones 
 would play leading rdles. As in a dream he heard the captain 
 address Rosendo and gruffly demand that he produce his daugh- 
 ter. He heard a deep curse from Rosendo; and his blood con- 
 gealed more thickly as he dwelt momentarily on the old man's 
 possible conduct in the face of the federal demand. He heard 
 Morales hunting impatiently through the shabby rooms. Then 
 he saw him emerge in a towering rage — but empty-handed. 
 
 "Caramba, Padre!" cried the angry captain, "but what is 
 this? Have they not had one good lesson, that I must inflict 
 another? I demand to know, has this Rosendo Ariza a daugh- 
 ter?" 
 
 He stood waiting for the answer that Jose knew he must 
 make. The priest's hollow voice sounded like an echo from 
 another world. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Bien, then I have discovered one honest man in yourself, 
 Padre. You will now assist me in finding her." 
 
 "I — I know not — where-^where she is, Senor Capitdn," 
 murmured Jose with feebly fluttering lips. 
 
 They were alone, this little party of actors, although many 
 
 329 
 
 31 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 an eye peered out timidly at them from behind closed shutters 
 and barred doors around the plaza. Don Jorge and Rosendo 
 came out of the house and stood behind Jose. The captain 
 confronted them, bristling with wrath at the insolence that 
 dared oppose his supreme authority. The heat had already be- 
 gun to pour down in torrents. The morning' air was light, but 
 not a sound traversed it. The principals in this tense drama 
 might have been painted against that vivid tropical background. 
 
 Then Harris, moved by his piquant Yankee curiosity, ap- 
 peared at the door of the parish house, his great eyes protrud- 
 ing and his head craned forth like a monster heron. Morales 
 saw him. "Ha!" he exclaimed, "Perhaps the Americano hides 
 the daughter of Ariza!" 
 
 He started for the priest's door. But ere he reached it 
 Reed suddenly appeared from behind Harris. In his hand he 
 grasped a large American flag. Holding this high above his 
 head, he blocked the entrance. 
 
 "Hold! Senor Capitdn!" he cried in his perfect Spanish. 
 "We are American citizens, and this house is under the protec- 
 tion of the American Government!" 
 
 Morales fell back and stood with mouth agape in astonish- 
 ment. The audacity of this foreign adventurer fairly robbed 
 him of his breath. He glanced dubiously from him to the 
 priest. Then, to save the situation, he broke into an embar- 
 rassed laugh. 
 
 "Bien, my good friend," he finally said, addressing Reed in 
 his courtliest .manner, "all respect to your excellent Govern- 
 ment. And, if you will accept it, I shall be pleased to secure 
 you a commission in the Colombian army. But, my orders — 
 you understand, do you not? The sun is already high, and I 
 can not lose more time. Therefore, you will kindly stand aside 
 and permit me to search that house." He motioned to his men 
 and moved forward. 
 
 Still holding aloft the flag. Reed drew a long revolver. Harris 
 quickly produced one of equal size and wicked appearance. 
 Morales stopped abruptly and looked at them in hesitation. He 
 knew what he might expect. He had heard much of American 
 bravery. His chief delight when not in the field was the perusal 
 of a battered history of the American Civil War; and his ex- 
 clamations of admiration for the hardihood of those who par- 
 ticipated in it were always loud and frequent. But he, too, had 
 a reputation to sustain. The Americans stood grimly silent be- 
 fore him. Harris's finger twitched nervously along the trigger, 
 and a smile played over his thin lips. The nian was aching for 
 a scrimmage. 
 
 Then, his face flaming with shame and chagrin. Morales 
 turned to his escort and commanded them to advance. 
 
 330 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Up went the two revolvers. A moment more, and — 
 
 A cry came from Rosendo's house. Ana, her face swollen 
 with weeping, clasping her sightless babe to her bosom, had 
 emerged and faced the captain. 
 
 "Seiior," she said in a voice strained to a whisper, "I am 
 the daughter of Rosendo Ariza." 
 
 A half-suppressed exclamation burst from the lips of Ro- 
 sendo. A despesate, suffocating joy surged over the riven soul 
 of the priest. Don Jorge's mouth opened, but no sound came 
 forth. This precipitate denoument held them rigid with aston- 
 ishment. 
 
 A heavy silence descended upon them all. In the eyes of 
 Jose Ana's tense figure, standing grim and rigid before the 
 captain, took on a dignity that was majestic, a worth that tran- 
 scended all human computation. A Magdalen, yes, standing 
 with her sin-conceived child clasped in her trembling arms. 
 But this act — God above ! this sacrificial act broke the alabaster 
 box and spread the precious nard over the feet of the pitying 
 Christ. 
 
 Morales turned questioningly to Jose. "Is this true. Padre?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "It is," murmured the dazed priest, scarce hearing his own 
 words. 
 
 "But — I have no orders respecting a child — " 
 
 "They cannot be separated," half whispered Jose, not daring 
 to meet the vacant gaze of the babe. 
 
 The captain hesitated a moment longer. Then, with an 
 upward glance at the sun, he gave a sharp command to his 
 men. Placing the woman between them, the two soldiers faced 
 about and moved quickly away. With a low bow and a final 
 "Adios, Senores," the captain hurriedly joined them. Ere the 
 little group before Rosendo's house Tlad cojlected their wits, the 
 soldiers and their frail charge had mounted the hill beyond the 
 old church and disappeared into the matted trail that led from 
 it to the distant river. 
 
 Rosendo was the first to break the mesmeric silence. "Dios 
 arriba!" he cried. His knees gave way beneath him and he 
 buried his face in his hands. "Anita — !" 
 
 Then he rose hastily, and made as if to pursue the soldiers. 
 Jqs6 and Don Jorge restrained him. 
 
 "Hombre!" cried Don Jorge, "but it is the hand of Provi- 
 dence ! It is better so ! Listen, friend Rosendo, it but gives us 
 time to act ! Perhaps many days ! When the mistake is dis- 
 covered they will return, and they will bring her back un- 
 harmed — though they may not learn until she reaches Car- 
 tagena! Bien, we can not waste time in mourning now!. 
 Courage, man! Think — think hard!" 
 
 331 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Rosendo strove to unravel his tangled wits. Jose went to 
 him and clasped his big hand. 
 
 "Rosendo — friend — would you have it different? I — I alone 
 am to blame that they took Anita! But — it was to save — to 
 save — Ah, God! if I did wrong, take the American's revolver 
 and shoot me!" He tore open his cassock and stook rigid be- 
 fore the dazed man. Anguish and soul-torture had warped his 
 features. 
 
 "Caramba! Enough of such talk!" cried Don Jorge im- 
 patiently. "We shall find plenty of others more deserving of 
 shooting, I think! The girl — where is she?" 
 
 Reed turned back into the parish house, and emerged a 
 moment later with Carmen and Dona Maria, who knew not 
 as yet of Ana's departure. "I hid them in your bedroom. 
 Padre," Reed explained. 
 
 Josd threw him a look of gratitude. "Doiia Maria," he cried, 
 "do you take Carmen into your house and await our decision! 
 And you, men, go into my study! It is as Don Jorge says, we 
 must act quickly ! Leave your flag hanging, Mr. Reed ! It may 
 serve to protect us further against the angry people of Simiti!" 
 
 The five men quickly gathered in Jose's living room in a 
 strained, excited group. The priest was the first to speak. 
 Rapidly he related in detail Don Mario's last confession. When 
 he had closed. Reed made reply. 
 
 "Old man," he said, familiarly addressing Jos6, "having 
 seen the girl, I do not at all wonder that blood has been shed 
 over her. But to keep her another hour in Simiti is to sacrifice 
 her. Get her away — and at once ! If not, the people will drive 
 you out. I talked with Fernando last night. With the soldiers 
 gone, the people will rise up against you all." 
 
 "But, friend, where shall we go?" cried Jos6 in desperation. 
 "There is no place in. Colombia now where she would be safe!" 
 
 "Then leave the country," suggested Reed. 
 
 "It can not be done," interposed Don Jorge. "It would be 
 impossible for him to escape down the river with the girl, even 
 if he had funds to carry her away from Colombia, which he 
 has not. At any port he would be seized. To take the trail 
 would only postpone for a short time their certain capture. 
 And then — ^well, we will not predict! To flee into the jungle — 
 or to hide among the peones along the trails — that might be 
 done — ^^es." 
 
 "What's the gibberish about now, pal?" put in Harris, whose 
 knowledge of the Spanish tongue was nil. 
 
 Reed explained to him at some length. 
 
 "Well, that's easy," returned Harris. "Tell 'em you'll take 
 •thef girl out yourself. She's white enough to pass as your 
 daughter, you know." 
 
 332 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 Rosendo, stunned by the sudden departure of Ana, had sat 
 in a state of stupefaction during this conversation. But now 
 he roused up and turned to Reed. "What says he, seiior?" he 
 inquired thickly. 
 
 The latter translated his friend's suggestion, laughing as 
 he commented on its gross absurdity. 
 
 Rosendo dropped his head again upon his chest and lapsed 
 into silence. Then he rose unsteadily and passed a hand slowly 
 across his brow. A strange light had come into his eyes. For 
 a moment he stood looking fixedly at Reed. Finally he began 
 to speak. 
 
 "Sefiores," he said, rolling his syllables sonorously, "the 
 time has come at last ! For years I have waited, waited, know- 
 ing that some day the great gift which the good God put into 
 my hands for the little Carmen would be needed. Seiiores, my 
 parents were slaves. The cruel Spaniards drove them to and 
 from their heavy labors with the lash; and when the great 
 war ended, they sank exhausted into their graves. My parents 
 — I have not told you this. Padre — were the slaves of Don 
 Ignacio de Rincon!" 
 
 An exclaihation burst from the astonished priest's lips. 
 Wh^t, then, had this man been concealing all these years? 
 Little wonder that he had hesitated when he learned that a 
 Rinc6n had come to the parish of Simiti! 
 
 The old man quickly resumed. As he continued, his recital 
 became dramatic. As they listened, his auditors sat spell- 
 bound. 
 
 "Don Ignacio de Rinc6n himself was kind of heart. But his 
 overseers — ah, Dios arriba! they were cruel! cruel! Many a 
 time the great lash wound itself about my poor father's shrink- 
 ing body, and hurled him shrieking to the ground — and why? 
 Because his blistered hands could not hold the batea with which 
 he washed gold for your grandfather. Padre, your grandfather!" 
 
 Jose's head sank upon his breast. A groan escaped him, 
 and tears trickled slowly down his sunken cheeks. 
 
 "I bear you no malice. Padre," continued Rosendo. "It was 
 hard those first days to accept you here. But when, during 
 your fever, I learned from, your own lips what you had suffered, 
 I knew that you needed a friend, and I took you to my bosom. 
 And now I am glad — ah, very glad, that I did so. But, though 
 my confidence in you increased day by day, I could never bring 
 myself to tell you my great secret — the secret that now I reveal 
 for the sake of the little Carmen. Padre — seiiores — I — / am 
 the owner of the great mine, La Libertad!" 
 
 Had the heavens collapsed the astonishment of Don Jorge 
 and the priest could not have been greater. The coming of the 
 
 333 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 soldiers, the terrific strain of the past few days, culminating in 
 the loss of Ana — all was for the moment obliterated. 
 
 Jos6 started up and tried to speakj But the words would 
 not come. Rosendo paused a moment for the effect which he 
 knew his revelation would produce, and then went on rapidly: 
 
 "Padre, the mine belonged to your grandfather. It produced 
 untold wealth. The gold taken from it was brought down the 
 Guamoco trail to Simiti, and from here shipped to Cartagena, 
 where he lived in great elegance. I make no doubt the gold 
 which you and the little Carmen discovered in the old church 
 that day canie from this same wonderful mine. But the ore 
 was quartz, and arrastras were required to grind it, and much 
 skill was needed, too. He had men from old Spain, deeply 
 versed in such knowledge. Ah, the tales my poor father told 
 of that mine! 
 
 "Bien, the war broke out. The Guamoco region became de- 
 populated, and sank back into the jungle. The location of the 
 mine had been recorded in Cartagena; but, as you know, when 
 Don Ignacio fled from this country he destroyed' the record. 
 He did the same with the records in Simiti, on that last flying 
 trip here, when he hid the gold in the altar of the old church. 
 And then the jungle grew up around the mine during those 
 thirteen long years of warfare — the people who knew of it died 
 off — and the mine was lost, utterly lost!" 
 
 He stopped for breath. The little group sat enthralled be- 
 fore him. All but Harris, who was vainly beseeching Reed to 
 translate to him the dramatic story. 
 
 "Padre," continued Rosendo at length, "from what my 
 father had told me I had a vague idea of the location of that 
 mine. And many a weary day I spent hunting for it ! Then — 
 then I found it! Ah, Carambal I wept aloud for joy! It was 
 while I was on the Tigui, washing gold. I was working near 
 what we used to call Pozo Cayman, opposite La Colorado, 
 where the Frenchmen died. I camped on the lonely bank there, 
 with only the birds and the wondering animals to keeji me 
 company. One dark night, as I lay on the ground, I had a 
 dream. I believe in dreams. Padre. I dreamt that the Virgin, 
 all in white, came to me where I lay — that she whispered to me 
 and told me to rise quickly and drive away the devil. 
 
 "I awoke suddenly. It was still dark, but a pair of fiery 
 eyes were gleaming at me from the bush. I seized my machete 
 and started after them. It was a jaguar. Padre, and he fled up 
 the hill from me. Why I followed, I know not, unless I thought, 
 still half asleep as I was, that I was obeying the Virgin. 
 
 "At the top of the hill I lost the animal — and myself, as 
 vpell. I am a good woodsman, senores, and not easily lost. But 
 
 334 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 this time my poor head went badly astray. I started to cut 
 through the bush. At last I came to the edge of a steep ravine. 
 I clambered down the sides into the gully below. I thought it 
 looked like an old trail, and I followed it. So narrow was it at 
 times that the walls almost touched. But I went on. Then it 
 widened, and I knew that at last I was in a trail, long since 
 abandoned — and how old, only the good God himself knew! 
 
 "But my story grows as long as the trail! On and on I 
 went, crossing stream after stream, scaring snakes from my 
 path, frightening the birds above, who doubtless have never 
 seen men in that region, all the time thinking I was going 
 toward the Tigui, until at last the old sunken trail led me up a 
 tremendous hill. At the top, buried in a dense matting of 
 brush, I fell over a circle of stones. They were the remains of 
 an ancient arrastra. Further on I found another; and still 
 another. Then, near them, the stone foundations of houses, 
 long since gone to decay. From these the trail took me into a 
 gully, where but little water flowed. It was lined with quartz 
 bowlders. I struck off a piece from one of the largest. It 
 showed specks of gold! My eyes danced! I forgot that I was 
 lost! I went on up the stream, striking off piece after piece 
 from the great rocks. Every one showed specks of free gold. 
 Caramba! I reached the top of the hill. Hombre! how pan I 
 tell it! Tunnel after tunnel yawned at me from the hillside. 
 Some of these were still open, where they had been driven 
 through the hard rock. Others had caved. I had my wallet, 
 in which I always carry matches and a bit of candle. I entered 
 one of the open tunnels. Dios arriba! far within I crossed a 
 quartz vein — I scraped it with my machete. Caramba! it could 
 not have been less than six feet in width — and all speckled with 
 gold ! Above it, far into the blackness, where bats were scurry- 
 ing madly, the ore had been taken out long, long ago. In the 
 darkness below I stumbled over old, rusted tools. Every one 
 bore the inscription, 'I de R.' Your grandfather, Padre, put his 
 stamp on everything belonging to him. Then, as I sat trying to 
 place myself, my father's oft-told story of the location of the 
 mine flashed into my brain. My memory is good, Padre. And I 
 knew then where I was. I was at the headwaters of the Bor- 
 rachera. And I had discovered La Libertad!" 
 
 Reed's eager ears had drunk in every word of the old 
 man's dramatic story. His practical mind had revolved its 
 possibilities. When Rosendo paused again,. he quickly asked: 
 
 "The title, sefior?" 
 
 Rosendo drew forth a paper from his bosom. It bore the 
 government stamp. He handed it to Reed. 
 
 "You will recall, Padre," he said, addressing the dully won- 
 
 335 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 dering Jose, "that I once asked you to give me a name for a 
 mine — a rare name? And you told me to call it the — ^the — 
 what is it?" 
 
 "The Chicago mine, Rosendo?" replied Jose, recalling the 
 incident. 
 
 "Yes," exclaimed the old man excitedly, "that is it! Bien, 
 I told no one of my discovery of years before. I had never 
 had money enough to get the title to it. Besides, I was afraid. 
 But when it seemed that I might soon have use for it I sold my 
 finca for funds and had Lazaro apply through Don Mario for 
 title to a mine called — called — " 
 
 "The Chicago mine," said Jose, again coming to the rescue. 
 
 "Just so! Bien, Lazaro got the title, which I never could 
 have done, for at th^t time Don Mario would not have put 
 through any papers for me. I then had the unsuspecting 
 Ldzaro transfer the title to me, and — Bien, I am the sole owner 
 of LaLibertad!" 
 
 Reed examined the paper at some length, and then handed 
 it back to Rosendo. "Can we not talk business, seiior?" he 
 said, speaking with some agitation. "I am so situated that I 
 can float an American company to operate this mine, and 
 allow you a large percentage of the returns. Great heavens!" 
 he exclaimed, unable longer to contain himself, "it is your 
 fortune!" 
 
 "Seiior," replied Rosendo, slowly shaking his head, "I want 
 no share in any of your American companies. But — your 
 friend — he has suggested just what has been running through 
 my mind ever since you came to Simiti." 
 
 Jose's heart suddenly stopped. The wild, terrifying idea 
 tore through his fraught brain. He turned quickly to Reed 
 and addressed him in English. "No — no — ^it is impossible ! The 
 old man wanders! You can not take the girl — !" 
 
 "Certainly not!" ejaculated Reed with some warmth. "Such 
 a thing is quite out of the question!" 
 
 "Stuff!" exclaimed Harris. "Now look here, Mr. Priest, 
 Reed's wife is in Cartagena, waiting for him. Came down 
 from New York that far for the trip. Kind of sickly, you 
 know. What's to prevent her from takihg the girl to the 
 States and placing her in a boarding school there until such 
 time as you can either follow, or this stew down here has 
 settled sufficiently to permit of her returning to you?" 
 
 Reed threw up a deprecatory hand. "Impossible!" he cried. 
 
 "But," interposed Harris exasperatedly, "would you leave 
 the ravishing little beauty here to . fall into the hands of the 
 cannibals who are trailing her? Lord Harry! if it weren't for 
 the looks of the thing I'd take her myself. But you've got a 
 
 336 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ■wife, so it'd be easy." He leaned over to Reed and concluded 
 in a whisper, "The old man's going to make a proposition — 
 listen!" 
 
 "But," remonstrated the latter, "the expense of keeping her 
 in New York indefinitely! For, unless I mistake much, none 
 of these people will ever see the States after she leaves. And 
 then I have an adopted daughter on my hands! And, heaven 
 knows! now that my ambitious wife is determined to break 
 into New York society with her adorable sister, I have no 
 money to waste on adopted children!" 
 
 Rosendo, who had been studying the Americans attentively 
 during their conversation, now laid a hand on Reed's. "Seiior," 
 he said in a quiet tone, "if you will take the little Carmen with 
 you, and keep her safe from harm until Padre Jose can come 
 to you, or she can be returned to us here, I will transfer to you 
 a half interest in this mine." 
 
 Jose sprang to his feet. His face was blanched with fear. 
 "Rosendo!" he cried wildly, "do not do that! Dios arriba, no! 
 You do not know this man ! Ah, seiior," turning to Reed, "I beg 
 you will forgive — but Rosendo is mad to suggest such a thing ! 
 We cannot permit it — ^we — I — oh, God above!" He sank again 
 into his chair and covered his face with his hands, 
 
 Don Jorge gave vent to a long, low whistle. Rosendo, his 
 voice husky and his lips trembling, went on: 
 
 "I know. Padre — I know. But it must be done ! I will give 
 the mine to the American — and to Carmen. He has a powerful 
 government back of him, and he is able to defend the title and 
 save her interest as well as his own. As for me, I — Bien, 
 I shall want nothing when Carmen goes — nothing." 
 
 "For heaven's sake!" burst in Harris, seizing Reed's arm. 
 "If you don't tell me what all this is about now I shall shoot — 
 and not straight up, either!" 
 
 "Seriores," said Reed in a controlled voice, "let me talk 
 this matter over with my friend here. I will come to you in an 
 hour." 
 
 Rosendo and Don Jorge bowed and silently withdrew from 
 the parish house. The former went at once to apprise the 
 wondering Dona Maria of the events which had crowded the 
 morning's early hours and to answer her apprehensive ques- 
 tionings regarding Ana. Carmen was to know only that Ana — 
 but what could he tell her? That the woman had sacrificed 
 herself for the girl? No; but that they had seized this opporr 
 tunity to send her, under the protection of Captain Morales, to 
 the Sisters of the Convent of Our Lady. The old man knew that 
 the girl would see only God's hand in the event. 
 
 Jos6 as in a dream sought Carmen. It seemed to him that 
 
 337 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 once his arms closed about her no power under the skies could 
 tear them asunder. He found her sitting in the doorway at 
 the rear of Rosendo's house, looking dreamily out over the 
 placid lake. Cucumbra, now old and feeble, slept at her feet. 
 As the man approached he heard her murmur repeatedly, "It 
 is not true — it is not true — it is not true!" 
 
 "Carmen!" cried Jos6, seizing her hand. "Come with me!" 
 She rose quickly. "Gladly, Padre — ^but where?" 
 "God only knows— to the end of the world!" cried the 
 frenzied man. 
 
 "Well, Padre dear," she softly replied, as she smiled up 
 into his drawn face, "we will start out. But I think we had 
 better rest when we reach the shales, don't you?" 
 Then she put her hand in his. 
 
 CHAPTER 35 
 
 ""\ TO, Padre dear," with an energetic shake of her head, "no. 
 rV Not even after all that has seemed to happen to us do I 
 believe it true. No, I do not believe it real. Evil is not 
 power. It does not exist, excepting in the human mind. And 
 that, as you yourself know, can not be real, for it is all that God 
 is not." 
 
 They were seated beneath the slowly withering algarroba 
 tree out on the burning shales. Jose still held the girl's hand 
 tightly in his. Again he was struggling with self, struggling 
 to pass the border-line from self-consciousness to God-con- 
 sciousness; striving, under the spiritual influence of this girl, to 
 break the mesmeric hold of his own mortal beliefs, and swing 
 freely out into his true orbit about the central Sun, infinite 
 Mind. 
 
 The young girl, burgeoning into a marvelous womanhood, 
 sat before him like, an embodied spirit. Her beauty of soul 
 shone out in gorgeous luxuriance, and seemed to him to en- 
 velop her in a sheen of radiance. The brilliant sunshine glanced 
 sparkling from her glossy hair into a nimbus of light about her 
 head. Her rich complexion was but. faintly suggestive to him 
 of a Latin origin. Her oval face and regular features might 
 have indicated any of the ruddier branches of the so-called 
 Aryan stock. But his thought was not dwelling on these things 
 now. It was brooding over the events of the past few weeks, 
 and their probable consequences. And this he had just voiced 
 to her. 
 
 "Padre dear," she had said, when his tremulous voice 
 
 338 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ceased, "how much longer will you believe that two and two 
 are seven? And how much longer will you try to make me be- 
 lieve it ? Oh, Padre, at first you did seem to see so clearly, and 
 you talked so beautifully to me ! And then, when things seemed 
 to go wrong, you went right back to your old thougbts and 
 opened the door and let them all in again. And so things 
 couldn't help getting worse for you. You told me yourself, long 
 ago, that you would have to empty your mind of its old beliefs. 
 But I guess you didn't get them all out. If you had cleaned 
 house and got your mind ready for the good thoughts, they 
 would have come in. You know, you have to get ready for the 
 good, before it can come. You have to be receptive. But you 
 go right on getting ready for evil. If you loved God — really 
 loved Him — why, you would not be worried and anxious to- 
 day, and you would not be believing still that two and two are 
 seven. You told me, oh, so long ago ! that this human life was 
 just a sense of life, a series of states of consciousness, and that 
 consciousness was only mental activity, the activity of thought. 
 Well, I remembered that, and put it into practice — but you 
 didn't. A true consciousness is the activity of true thought, 
 you said. A false consciousness is the activity of false thought. 
 True thought comes from God, who is mind. False thought 
 is the opposite of true thought, and doesn't come from any 
 mind at all, but is just supposition. A supposition is never 
 really created, because it is never real — never truth. True 
 thought becomes externalized to us in good, in harmony, in 
 happiness. False thought becomes externalized to us in un- 
 happiness, sickness, loss, in wrong-doing, and in death. It is 
 unreal, and yet awfully real to those who believe it to be real. 
 Why don't you act your knowledge, as you at first said you 
 were going to do? I have all along tried to do this. Whenever 
 thoughts come to me I always look carefully at them to see 
 whether they are based on any real principle, on God. If so, I 
 let them in. If not, I drive them away; Sometimes it has been 
 hard to tell just which were true and which false. And some- 
 times I got caught, and had to pay the penalty. But every day 
 I do better; and the time will come at last when I shall be 
 able to tell at once which thoughts are true and which untrue. 
 When that time comes, nothing but good thoughts will enter, 
 and nothing but good will be externalized to me in conscious- 
 ness. I shall be in heaven — all the heaven there is. It is the 
 heaven which Jesus talked so much about, and which he said 
 was within us all. It is so simple. Padre dear, so simple!" 
 
 The man sat humbly before her like a rebuked child. He 
 knew that she spoke truth. Indeed, these were the very things 
 that he had taught her himself. Why, then, had he failed to 
 
 339 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 demonstrate them? Only because he had attempted to mix 
 error with truth — had clung to the reality and immanence of 
 evil, even while striving to believe good omnipotent and in- 
 finite. He had worked out these theories, and they had ap- 
 peared beautiful to him. But, while Carmen had eagerly 
 grasped and assimilated them, even to the consistent shaping 
 of her daily life to accord with them, he had gone on putting 
 the stamp of genuineness and reality upon every sort of thought 
 and upon every human event as it had been enacted in his 
 conscious experience. His difficulty was that, having pro- 
 claimed the allness of spirit, God, he had proceeded to bow 
 the knee to evil. Carmen had seemed to know that the mortal, 
 material concepts of humanity would dissolve in the light of 
 truth. He, on the other hand, had clung to them, even though 
 they seared the mind that held them, and became externalized 
 in utter wretchedness. 
 
 "When you let God's thoughts in, Padre, and drive out 
 their opposites, then sickness and unhappiness vvill disappear, 
 just as- the mist disappears over the lake when the sun rises 
 and the light goes through it. If you really expected to some 
 day see the now 'unseen things' of God, you would get ready 
 for them, and you would 'rejoice always,' even though you did 
 seem to see the wickedness of Padre Diego, the coming of the 
 soldiers, the death of Lazaro and Don Mario, and lots of un- 
 happiness about yourself and me. Those men are not dead — 
 except to your thought. You ought to know that all these 
 things are the unreal thoughts externalized in your con- 
 sciousness. And, knowing them for what they really are, the 
 opposites of God's thoughts, you ought to know that they can 
 have no more power over you than anything else that you know 
 to be supposition. We can suppose that two and two are seven, 
 but we can't make it true. The supposition does not have any 
 effect upon us. We know that it isn't so. But as regards just 
 thought — and you yourself said that everything reduces to 
 thought — ^why, people seem to think it is different. But it 
 isn't. Don't you understand what the good man Jesus meant 
 when he told the Pharisees to first cleanse the cup and plattet 
 within, that the outside might also be clean? Why, that was a 
 clear case of externalization, if there ever was one! Cleanse 
 your thought, and everything outside of you will then become 
 clean, for your clean thought will become externalized. You 
 once said that you believed in the theory that 'like attracts 
 like.' I do, too. I believe that good thoughts attract good ones, 
 and evil thoughts attract thoughts like themselves. I have 
 proved it. And you ought to know that your life shows it, too. 
 You hold fear-thoughts and worry-thoughts, and then, just as 
 
 340 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 soon as these become externalized to you as misfortune and 
 unhappiness, you say that evil is real and powerful, and that 
 God permits it to exist. Yes, God does permit all the existence 
 there is to a supposition — ^which is none. You pity yourself 
 and all the world for being unhappy, when all you need is to 
 do as Jesus told you, and know God to be infinite Mind, and 
 evil to be only the stippositional opposite, without reality, with- 
 out life, without power — unless you give it these things in your 
 own consciousness. You don't have to take thought for your 
 life. You don't have to be covetous, or envious, or fearful, or 
 anxious. You couldn't do anything if you were. These things 
 don't help you. Jesus said that of himself he could do nothing. 
 But — as soon as he recognized God as the infinite principle of 
 all, and acted that knowledge — ^why, then he raised the dead! 
 And at last, when his understanding was greater, he dissolved 
 the mental concept which people called his human body. Don't 
 you see it. Padre — don't you? I know you do!" 
 
 Yes, he saw it. He always did when she pleaded thus. And 
 yet: • 
 
 "But, Carmen, padre Rosendo would send you out of the 
 country with these Americans!" 
 
 "Yes, so you have said. And you have said that you have 
 always feared you would lose me. Is that fear being externalized 
 now? I have not feared that I would lose you. But, Padre 
 dear—" 
 
 The ghastly look on the man's face threw wide the flood- 
 gates of her sympathy. "Padre — all things work together for 
 good, you know. Good is always working. It never stops. 
 Listen — " She clung more closely to him. 
 
 "Padre, it may be best, after all. You do not want me to 
 stay always in Simiti. And if I go, you will go with me, or 
 soon follow. Oh, Padre dear, you have told me that up in that 
 great country above us the people do not know God as you and 
 I are learning to know Him. Padre — I want to go and tell 
 them about Him! I've wanted to for a long, long time." 
 
 The girl's eyes shone with a holy light. Her wistful face 
 glowed with a love divine. 
 
 "Padre dear, you have so often said that I had a message 
 for the world. Do not the people up north need that message? 
 Would you keep me here then? The people of Simiti are too 
 dull to hear the message now. But up there — Oh, Padre, it 
 may be right that I should go ! And, if it is right, nothing can 
 prevent it, for the right will be externalized! Right will pre- 
 vail!" 
 
 True, there was the girl's future. Such a spirit as hers 
 could not long be confined within the narrow verges of Simiti. 
 
 341 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 He must not oppose his egoism to her interests. And, be- 
 sides, he might follow soon. Perhaps go with her! Who 
 knew? it might be the opening of the way to the consumma- 
 tion of that heart-longing for — 
 
 Ah, the desperate joy that surged; through his yearning 
 soul at the thought ! The girl was fifteen. A year, two, three, 
 and he would still be a young man ! She loved him — never had 
 man had such proofs as he of an affection so divine! And he 
 worshiped her! Why hesitate longer? Surely the way was 
 unfolding! 
 
 "Carmen," he said tenderly, drawing her closer to him, 
 "you may be right. Yes — ^we will both go with the Americans. 
 Once out of this environment and free from ecclesiastical 
 chains,' I shall do better." 
 
 The .girl looked up at him with brimming eyes. "Padre 
 dear," she whispered, "I want to go — away from Simiti. Juan 
 — he asks me almost every day to marry him. And he becomes 
 angry when I refuse. Even in the church, when Don Mario 
 was trying to get us, Juan said he would save me if I would 
 promise to marry him. He said he would go to Cartagena and 
 kill the Bishop. He follows me like a shadow. He — Padre, he 
 is a good boy. I love him. But — I do not — ^want to marry 
 him." 
 
 They sat silent for some moments. Jos6 knew how insistent 
 Juan had become. The lad adored the girl. He tormented the 
 priest about her. 
 
 "Padre, you — ^you are not always going to be a priest — are 
 you? And — I — I — oh, Padre dear, I love you so!" She turned 
 impulsively and threw both arms about his neck. "I want to 
 see you work out your problem. I will help you. You can go 
 with me — and I can always live with you — and some day-^ 
 some day — " She buried her face in his shoulder. The artless 
 girl had never seemed to think it unmaidenly to declare her 
 love for him, to show him unmistakably that she hoped to be- 
 come his wife. 
 
 The man's heart gave a mighty leap. The beautiful child 
 in his arms was human ! Young in years, and yet a woman by 
 the conventions of these tropic lands. He bent his head and 
 kissed her. Why, she had long insisted that she would wait for 
 him! And why should he now oppose the externalization of 
 that sweet thought? 
 
 "Ah, chiquita," he murmured, "I will indeed go with you 
 now! I will send my resignation to the Bishop at once. No, 
 I will wait and send it from the States. I will renounce my 
 oath, abjure my promise — " 
 
 The girl sat suddenly upright and looked earnestly into his 
 
 342 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 eyes. "What do you mean, Padre?" she queried dubiously. 
 "What did you promise?" 
 
 "Ah, I have never told you. But — I promised my mother, 
 dearest one, that I would always remain a priest-sunless, 
 indeed, the Church herself should eject me from the priest- 
 hood. But, it was foolish — " . 
 
 "And your mother — she expects you to keep your word?" 
 
 "Yes, chiquita." 
 
 The girl sat in pensive silence for a moment. "But, Padre," 
 she resumed, "honesty — it is the very first thing that God 
 requires of us. We have to be — we must be honest, for He is 
 Truth. He cannot see or recognize error, you know. And so 
 He cannot see you and help you if you are dishonest." 
 
 "I know, child. And I tried to be honest, even when cir- 
 cumstances and my own poor resistive force combined to direct 
 me into the priesthood. But — since that day I have lived a 
 life of hypocrisy, not knowing how to shape my course. Then, 
 at length, I met you. It was — too late!" 
 
 "But, Padre, the Church has not put you out? You are 
 still a priest?" 
 
 "Yes," sadly; "and no." 
 
 "But, if you went to the States — ^with me — ^would you be 
 put out of the Church?" 
 
 "Possibly, chiquita." 
 
 "And what would that mean. Padre?" 
 
 "The disgrace that always attaches to an apostate priest, 
 child." 
 
 "And, Padre — ^your mother — what would she say?" 
 
 Jose hung his head. "It would kill her," he replied slowly. 
 
 Carmen reflected long, while Jose, with ebbing hope, waited. 
 "Padre dear," she finally said, "then you have not yet worked 
 out your problem — have you?" 
 
 No, he knew that. And he was now attempting to solve it 
 by flight. 
 
 "I mean. Padre, you have not worked it out in God's way. 
 For if you had, no one would be hurt, and there could not be 
 any disgrace, or unhappiness — could there?" 
 
 "But, chiquita," he cried in despair, "nothing but excom- 
 munication can release me ! And I long ago ceased to look for 
 that. You do not understand^-you are young! What can I 
 do?" His tortured soul pleaded in agony. 
 
 "Why, Padre dear, you can work it out, all out, in God's 
 way." 
 
 "But — must I remain here— can I let you go alone with the 
 Americans — ?" 
 
 "Yes, you can, if it is right," she answered gently. 
 
 343 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Carmen!" he cried, straining her in his arms. "If you 
 go with the Americans, I shall, I must, go too!" 
 
 "Not unless it is right. Padre," she insisted. "If it is right, 
 nothing can keep you from going. But, unless it is God's way — 
 well, you can not solve your problem by running away from it." 
 
 "But — child — to remain here means — God above ! you don't 
 realize what it may mean to us both!" 
 
 The girl relapsed into silence. Jose began to feel that they 
 were drifting hopelessly, abysmally apart. Desperation seized 
 him. 
 
 "Carmen!" he cried miserably. "I have been cheated and 
 thwarted all my wretched life! I can endure it no longer! I 
 can not, would not, hold you here, if the way opens for you to 
 go! But — I can not remain here without you — and live!" 
 
 "That is not true. Padre," replied the girl, slowly shaking 
 her head. "No human being is necessary to any one's hap- 
 piness. And progress always comes first. You are trying to 
 'acquire that mind which was in Christ.' If you are really 
 progressing, why, you will surely be happy. But you must 
 work it all out God's way." 
 
 "His way!" he retorted bitterly. "And that—" 
 
 "You must be honest. Padre, honest with Him and with 
 everybody. If you can no longer be a priest — if you are not 
 one, and never have been one — ^you must be honest with the 
 Church and with yourself. You must see and reflect only 
 Truth. Why do you not write to the Bishop and tell him all 
 about it? You say you have been protecting me. But leave me 
 to God. You must — Padre, you must — be honest! Write to 
 your mother — write to the Bishop. Tell them both how you 
 feel. Then leave it all with God. Do not run away. Throw 
 yourself upon Him. But — oh, Padre dear, you must trust Him, 
 and you must — ^you must — know that He is good, that He is 
 infinite, and that there is no evil ! Otherwise, the good can not 
 be externalized. If you did that, your problem would be 
 quickly solved." 
 
 She rose and took his hand. "Padre dear," she continued, 
 "God is life — there is no death. God is eternal — there is no 
 age. God is all good — there is no poverty, no lack, no loss. 
 God is infinite, and He is mind — there is no inability to see the 
 right and to do it. God is my mind, my spirit, my soul, my 
 all. I have nothing to fear. Human mental concepts are not 
 real. You, yourself, say so. I am not afraid of them. I look 
 at God constantly, and strive always to see only. Him. But He 
 is just as much to you as He is to me. You can not outline how 
 things will work out; but you can know that they can only 
 work out in the right way. You must work as God directs. 
 
 344 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Only by so doing can you solve your problem. I try always to 
 work that way. And I have always worked for you that way. 
 I have always thought the time would come when you and I 
 would live and work together — always. But I have not insisted 
 on it. I have not said that it had to be. If it works out that 
 way, I know I would be very happy. But, even if it does not, 
 I shall know that I cart not be deprived of any good, for the 
 good God is everywhere, and He is love, and He has given me 
 all happiness. And now we must leave everything to Him, 
 while we work, work, work to see Him only everywhere." 
 
 She would talk no more. Suffering himself to be led by 
 her, they crossed the shales to the dust-laden road and made 
 their way silently through the burning heat into the village. 
 
 At the door of the parish house stood Rosendo. His face 
 was grave, but his manner calm. "Padre," he announced, 
 "it is arranged." 
 
 Jose's knees shook under him as he followed the old man 
 into the house. Reed, Harris, and Don Jorge sat about the 
 table, on which were strewn papers covered with figures and 
 sketches. The priest sat down dumbly and drew Carmen to 
 him. Harris fell to devouring the girl with his bulging eyes. 
 Reed at once plunged into the topic under consideration. 
 
 "I have been saying," he began, addressing the priest, "that 
 I can accept the proposal made by Don Rosendo, but with 
 some amendments. Mr. Harris and I are under contract with 
 the Molino Company to report upon tljeir properties along the 
 Boque river. I am informed by Don Rosendo that he is 
 acquainted with these alleged mines, and knows them to be 
 worthless. Be that as it may, I am obliged to examine them. 
 But I will agree to take this girl to New York, under the pro- 
 tection of my wife, upon the consideration that when I reach 
 my home city I be allowed to form a company to take over this 
 mine, returning to the girl a fifty-one per cent interest in the 
 stock, one half of which she agrees in writing to deliver to me 
 immediately upon its issuance. Being under contract, I can not 
 accept it now. The balance of the stock must be sold for de- 
 velopment purposes. I further agree to place the girl in a 
 boarding school of the first quality in the States, and to bear all 
 expenses of her maintenance until such time as she is either 
 self-supporting, or one or several of yoU may come to her, or 
 effect her return to Colombia. Now, according to Ariza's 
 sketches, we may proceed up the Boque river to its headwaters 
 — how far did you say, friend?" 
 
 "Some hundred and fifty miles from Simiti, senor," replied 
 Rosendo. 
 
 "And then," resumed Reed, "we can cut across country 
 
 345 
 32 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 from the sources of the Boque, followmg what is known as 
 Rosario creek, down to the river Tigui, striking the latter 
 somewhere near the ancient point known as La Colorado." 
 
 "But, seiior," interposed Rosendo, "remember that the head- 
 waters of the Boque are practically unknown to-day. . Many 
 years ago, when I was a small lad, some liberated slaves worked 
 along Rosario creek, which was then one day's journey on foot 
 with packs from La Colorado. But that old trail has long since 
 disappeared. Probably no one has been over it since." 
 
 "Very well," returned the practical Reed, "then we shall 
 have to make our own trail across the divide to the Tigui. But 
 once at La Colorado, you tell me there is an ancient trail that 
 leads down to Llano, on the Nechi river?" 
 
 "Yes, to the mouth of the Amaceri. Llano was something 
 of a town long ago. But river steamers that go up the Nechi as 
 far as Zaragoza once a month, or less frequently, still touch 
 there, I am told. And so you can get down the Cauca to Mag- 
 anguey, where you can change to a Magdalena river boat for 
 Calamar. Then by rail to Cartagena. The trail to Llano can 
 not be more than fifty miles in length, and fairly open." 
 
 Harris, who had been studying the sketches, whistled 
 softly. "Lord Harry!" he muttered, "nearly two hundred 
 miles, and all by foot, over unspeakable jungle trails!" 
 
 Reed paid no attention to him. "Very well, then," he con- 
 tinued, "we had best set out as soon as possible. To you, friend 
 Rosendo, I leave all arrangements regarding supplies and car- 
 gadores, I will furnish funds for the entire expedition, ex- 
 pecting to be reimbursed by La Libertad." 
 
 Carmen listened, with dilated eyes. As for Jose, his head 
 swam. Starting hurriedly after Rosendo, who rose immediately 
 to inaugurate preparations, he drew him into the latter's house. 
 "Hombre!" he cried, his whole frame tremulous with agitation, 
 "do you know what you are doing? Do you — " 
 
 "Na, Padre," replied Rosendo gently, as he held up a re- 
 straining hand, "it is best. I want the Americanos to take 
 Carmen. She is not safe another day here. The soldiers left 
 but yesterday. They may return any hour. At any moment 
 an order might come for your arrest or mine. We must get 
 her away at once. We can do no more for her here. The 
 struggle has been long, and I weary of it." He sat down in 
 exhaustion and mopped his damp brow. "I weary of life, 
 Padre. I would be through with it. I am old. This world can 
 hold little more for me. If I can but know that she is safe— 
 Bien, that is all. From what we have learned, this country will 
 soon be plunged again into war. I do not wish to live through 
 another revolution. I have seen many. I seem to have fought 
 
 346 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 all my life. And for what? What is La Libertad to me? Noth- 
 ing — less than nothing. I have not the funds to work it. I 
 doubt if I could even hold it, were it known here that I had the 
 title to such a famous mine. But the Americano can hold it. 
 And he is honest. Padre. He will save Carmen's interest, and 
 deal fairly with her. Bien, let him place her in a school in the 
 States. If you weather the oncoming revolution, then you may 
 be able to send for her. Quien sabe?" 
 
 Jose controlled himself. "Rosendo," he said, "I will go 
 with her." 
 
 The old man looked at him quizzically. "Do you mean. 
 Padre, that you will leave the Church?" 
 
 Jose kept silent for some time. Then he spoke bitterly. 
 
 "Can I remain longer in Simiti, where the people have be- 
 come divided — ^where they look upon me askance, as the cause 
 of the trouble that has befallen them? Is not my usefulness 
 here ended? War is at our door. What, -think you, will it 
 mean to Simiti? To us? And Wenceslas, what has he further 
 in store for you and me? What he has for Carmen, we well 
 know. And we seek by flight to save her. But the disappear- 
 ance of Diego has not been explained. The trick which Anita 
 played upon Morales to save Carmen must bring down increased 
 wrath upon our heads, especially yours and mine. No, Ro- 
 /sendo, you and I must go, and go at once!" 
 
 "And Anita—?" 
 
 "We will pick her up in Cartagena. Don Jorge will ac- 
 company us. I have certain information to give him that will 
 enlist his services — information which, I think, will serve to 
 introduce him to His Grace, and somewhat abruptly. But, 
 come, Rosendo, do you and Doiia Maria prepare for flight!" 
 
 "Maria and I? The States! Na, Padre, it is impossible! 
 I will go with the Americanos up the Boque and to La Libertad. 
 Then I will return to Simiti — or to the hacienda of Don Nicolas, 
 if Maria wishes to remain there while I am in the hills. 
 But — do you go. Padre — go and look after the girl. There is 
 nothing further for you here. Yes, Padre, go — go!" 
 
 "But — ah, Rosendo, you will reconsider? The Americans 
 will take us all for that mine!" 
 
 "I? No, Padre," said the old man firmly, but in a voice 
 heavy with sadness. "Maria and I remain in Simiti. My work 
 is done when I have seen the girl safely out of this unhappy 
 country. I could not live in the States. And my days are few 
 now, anyway. Let me end them here. How, I care not." 
 
 Carmen came bounding in and flew into Rosendo's arms. 
 "Padre Rosendo!" she cried, aglow with animation, "we are 
 all going to the States up north! I am going to take them 
 
 347 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 my message! And I am going to school there! Oh, padre, 
 isn't it beautiful!" 
 
 "Ah, chiquita," said Rosendo cheerily, straining her to 
 him, "I guess we have decided to send you on ahead — a little 
 ahead of us. Your old padre has some business he must attend 
 to here before he leaves." His eyes grew moist. Jose knew 
 what his effort at cheerfulness was costing him. 
 
 "But, padre- Rosendo, you will come — later? You promise? 
 You must!" She looked into his eyes, pleading wistfully. 
 
 "Yes, little one, yes — of course. For where you are, there 
 your old padre will always be — always — always!" 
 
 "And Padre Jose?" panted the girl under Rosendo's tight 
 grasp as she turned her head toward the priest. 
 
 "He goes with us," assured Rosendo — "I think — at least 
 as far as the coast. He will see Anita — and — " His voice 
 broke, and he turned abruptly away. 
 
 "And she will go to the States with us! Oh, padre!" cried 
 the girl, bounding up and down with joy. 
 
 Jose turned and went quickly into his own house. With 
 grim determination he drew the battered haircloth trunk from 
 beneath his bed and began to throw his few effects into it. 
 
 But he had scarce begun when Juan, now bearing the proud 
 title of official courier between Simiti and Bodega Central, en- 
 tered with a letter. Josd recognized the writing, and tore it, 
 open at once. It was from his mother. 
 
 "My beloved son, at last, after these many years of most rigid 
 economy, even of privation, I have saved enough from my meager 
 income, together with what little you have been able to send me from 
 time to time, and a recent generous contribution from your dear uncle, 
 to enable me to visit you. I shall sail for Colombia just as soon as you 
 send me detailed instructions regarding the journey. And, oh, my son, 
 to see you off^ring the Mass in your own church, and to realize that your 
 long delayed preferment is even at hand, for so your good uncle informs 
 me daily, will again warm the blood in a heart long chilled by poignant 
 suffering. Till we meet, the Blessed Virgin shield you, my beloved son." 
 
 The letter slipped from the priest's fingers and drifted to 
 the floor. With a moan he sank into a chair and buried his 
 face in his hands. 
 
 CHAPTER 36 
 
 WHAT had kept Jose de Rincon chained all these years to 
 an institution to which in thought, feeling, and sym- 
 pathy he was so utterly alien, we have repeatedly 
 pointed out — a warped sense of filial devotion, a devotion that 
 would not willingly bring sorrow upon his proud, sensitive 
 
 348 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 mother, and yet the kind that so often accomplishes just that 
 which it strives to avoid. But yet he had somehow failed to 
 note the nice distinction which he was always making between 
 the promises he had given to her and the oath which he had 
 taken at his ordination. He had permitted himself to be held 
 to the Church by his mother's fond desires, despite the fact 
 that his nominal observance of these had wrecked his own 
 life and all but brought her in sorrow to the grave. The 
 abundance of his misery might be traced to forgetfulness of 
 the sapient words of Jesus: "For whosoever shall do the will 
 of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and 
 sister, and mother." 
 
 Then had come Carmen. And he had sacrificed his new- 
 found life to the child. He had exhausted every expedient to 
 keep himself in Simiti, that he might transfer his own great 
 learning to this girl, and at the same time yield himself to her 
 beneficent influence. Yet, despite his vague hopes, he had 
 always dimly seen the day when she would leave him; but he 
 had likewise tried to feel that when it arrived his own status 
 would be such that the ecclesiastical ties which bound him 
 would be loosened, and he would be free to follow her. Alas! 
 the lapse of years had brought little change in that respect. 
 
 But now he saw the girl entering upon that very hour of 
 departure which all his life in Simiti had hung like a menac- 
 ing cloud above him. And the shock had been such that he 
 had thrown every other consideration to the winds, and, re- 
 gardless of consequences, was madly preparing to accompany 
 her. Then, like a voice from the tomb, had come his mother's 
 letter. 
 
 He slept not that night. Indeed, for the past two nights 
 sleep had avoided his haggard eyes. In the feeble glow of his 
 candle he sat in his little bedroom by his rough, bare table, far 
 into the hours of morning, struggling, resolving, hoping, de- 
 spairing — and, at last, yielding. If he had been born anew 
 that fateful day, seven years before, when Rosendo first told 
 him the girl's story, he had this night again died. When the 
 gray hours of dawn stole silently across the distant hills he 
 rose. His eyes were bleared and dull. His cheeks sunken. 
 He staggered as he passed out through the living room where 
 lay the sleeping Americans. Rosendo met him in front of 
 the house. 
 
 "Padre!" exclaimed the old man as he noted the priest's 
 appearance. 
 
 Jose held up a warning hand. "Do not speak of it, Ro^ 
 sendo. I am not well. But not a word to Carmen!" 
 
 Rosendo nodded understandingly. "It has been hard on 
 
 349 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 you, Padre. But you -will soon be off now. And in the States 
 with her — " 
 
 "For God's sake, friend, never speak of that again!" cried 
 Jose sharply. "Listen! How long will it take to complete 
 your preparations?" 
 
 "Bien," returned the amazed Rosendo when he recovered 
 his breath, "we can get away to-morrow." 
 
 "Can you not go this evening?" 
 
 "No, Padre. There is much to do. But you — " 
 
 "Hear me, friend. Everything must be conducted in the 
 greatest secrecy. It must be given out that the Americans go 
 to explore the Boque; that you accompany them as guide; 
 that Carmen goes as — as cook, why not?" 
 
 "Cierto, she cooks as well as Maria." 
 
 "Very well. Juan must be kept in complete ignorance of 
 the real nature of your trip. He must not go with you. He 
 is the courier^ — I will see that Fernando sends him again to 
 Bodega Central to-morrow, and keeps him there for several 
 days. You say it is some two hundred miles to Llano. How 
 long will it take to go that distance?" 
 
 "Why — Quien sabe, Padre?" returned Rosendo thought- 
 fully. "With a fair trail, and allowing the Americanos some 
 time to prospect on the Boque — where they will find nothing — ■ 
 and several days to look over La Libertad, we ought to reach 
 -Llano in six weeks." 
 
 "And Cartagena?" 
 
 "A week later, if you do not have to wait a month on the 
 river bank for the boat." 
 
 "Then, all going well, within two months Carmen should 
 be out of the country." 
 
 "Surely. You and she—" 
 
 "Enough, friend. I do not go with her." 
 
 "What? Caramba!" 
 
 "Go now and bid Carmen come to me immediately after the 
 desayuno. Tell Doiia Maria that I will eat nothing this morn- 
 ing. I am going up to the old church on the hill." 
 
 Rosendo stared stupidly at the priest. But Jose turned 
 abruptly and started away, leaving the old man in a maze of 
 bewilderment. 
 
 In the gloom of the old church Jos^ threw himself upon a 
 bench near the door, and waited . torpidly. A few moments 
 later came a voice, and then the soft patter of bare feet in the 
 thick (lust without. Carmen was talking as she approached. 
 Jos6 rose in curiosity; but the girl was alone. In her hand 
 she held a scrubby flower that had drawn a desperate nourish- 
 ment from the barren soil at the roadside. She glanced up at 
 Jose and smiled. 
 
 350 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "It is easy to understand their language, isn't it, Padre? 
 They don't speak as we do, but they reflect. And that is 
 better than speaking. They reflect God. They stand for His 
 ideas in the human mind. And so do you. And I. Aren't 
 they wonderful, these flowers! But you know, they are only 
 the way we interpret certain of God's wonderful ideas. Only, 
 because we mortals believe in death, we see these beautiful 
 things at last reflecting our thought of death — don't w«? We 
 see only our thoughts, after all. Everything we see about us 
 is reflected thought. First we see our thoughts of life and 
 beauty and good. And then our thoughts of decay and death. 
 
 "But God — He never sees anything but the good," she went 
 on. "He sees the real, not the supposition. And when we 
 learn to see only as He does, why, then we will never again 
 see death. We will see ourselves as we really are, immortal. 
 God sees Himself that way. Jesus learned to see that way, 
 didn't he? His thought was finally so pure that he saw noth- 
 ing but good. And that gave him such power that he did those 
 things that the poor, ignorant, wrong-thinking people called 
 miracles. But they were only the things that you and I and 
 everybody else ought to be doing to-day — and would be doing, 
 if we thought as he did, instead of thinking of evil. 
 
 "But," she panted, as she sat down beside him, "I've talked 
 a lot, haven't I? And you sent for me because you wanted to 
 talk. But, remember," holding up an admonitory finger, "I 
 shall not listen if you talk anything but good. Oh, Padre 
 dear," looking up wistfully into his drawn face, "you are still 
 thinking that two and two are seven! Will you never again 
 think right? How can you ever expect to see good if you look 
 only at evil? If I looked only at wilted flowers I would never 
 know there were any others." 
 
 "Carmen," he said in a hollow voice, "I love you." 
 
 "Why, of course you do," returned the artless girl. "You 
 can't help it. You have just got to love me and everything and 
 everybody. That's reflecting God." 
 
 He had not meant to say that. But it had been floating like 
 foam on his tossing mind. He took her hand. 
 
 "You are going away from me," he continued, almost in a 
 whisper. 
 
 "Why, no. Padre," she replied quickly; "you are going 
 too! Padre Rosendo said we could start to-morrow at sun- 
 rise." 
 
 "I do not go," he said in a quavering voice. "I remain in 
 Simiti." 
 
 She looked up at him wonderingly. What meant this 
 change which had come over him so suddenly? She drew 
 closer. 
 
 351 
 
CA-RMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "Why, Padre?" she whispered. 
 
 His mother's face hovered before him in the dim light. 
 Behind her a mitered head, symbolizing the Church, nodded 
 and beckoned significantly. Back of them, as they stood be- 
 iween him and the girl, he saw the glorified vision of Carmen. 
 It was his problem. He turned wearily from it to the gentle 
 presence at his side. 
 
 "Why, Padre dear?" came again the soft question. 
 
 "I stay — to work out — my problem," was his scarcely audi- 
 ble reply. 
 
 The girl did not speak. But her breath came more quickly, 
 and her hand closed more tightly about his. 
 
 "Dearest one," he murmured, bending over the brown 
 curls, "it is God's way, I guess. Perhaps in the years which I 
 have spent here with you I have had the time and the opportu- 
 nity to work out my salvation. I am sure that I have. But, 
 though I strove in my way, I could not quickly acquire your 
 spirituality. I could not at once shake loose those poisonous 
 thoughts of a lifetime, which have at last become externalized 
 in separation from all that I hold dearest in this life, you, my 
 beloved girl, you." He buried his face in her luxuriant hair and 
 strove to hold back the rush of scalding tears. 
 
 "It but shows how poisonous thoughts separate us from all 
 that is good — even from God," he continued in a choked voice. 
 "Oh, my sweet girl, I love you as it seems to me no human 
 being could love another! It has been so from that first day 
 when, a mere babe, your wonderful eyes held me until I could 
 read in them a depth of love for mankind that was divine." 
 It did not seem to him that a mature man was speaking to a 
 mere girl. - She seemed, as always, ages beyond him in wisdom 
 and experience. 
 
 Carmen reached up and wound her arms about his neck. 
 He bent low and kissed her brow. Then he drew himself up 
 quickly and resumed his broken talk. 
 
 "I believed at first that my salvation lay in you. And so 
 it did, for from your clear thought I gleaned my first satisfying 
 knowledge of the great principle, God. But alas ! I could not 
 seem to realize that between recognizing righteousness as 
 'right-thinking' and daily practicing it so as to 'prove' God 
 there was a great difference. And so I rested easy in my first 
 gleams of truth, expecting that they would so warm my soul 
 that it would expand of itself out of all error." 
 
 She made as if to reply, but he checked her. 
 
 "I learned enough, I repeat, those first few months here 
 to have enabled me to work out my salvation, even though 
 with fear and trembling. But I procrastinated; I vacillated; I 
 
 352 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 still clung to effete beliefs and forms of thought which I knew 
 were bound to manifest in unhappiness later. I was afraid 
 to boldly throw myself upon my thought. I was mesmerized. 
 Yes, the great Paul was at times under the same mesmeric 
 spell of human belief, even after he had seen the vision of the 
 Christ. But he >vorked his way steadily out. And now I see 
 that I must do likewise, for salvation is an individual expe- 
 rience. No vicarious effort, even of the Christ himself, can save 
 a man. The principle is already given us. We must apply it 
 to our problems ourselves. My unfinished task — scarcely even 
 begun! — lies still before me. My environment is what I have 
 made it by my own thought. I believe you, that I can enter 
 another only as I externalize it through righteousness, right- 
 thinking, and 'proving' God." 
 
 He paused and bent over the silent little figure nestling so 
 quietly at his side. His throat filled. But he caught his 
 breath and went on. 
 
 "You, Carmen, though but a child in years, have risen 
 beyond me, and beyond this lowly encompassment. Why, 
 when you were a mere babe, you should have grasped your 
 padre Rosendo's casual statement that 'God is everywhere,' 
 and shaped your life to accord with it, I do not know. Nor 
 do you. That must remain one of the hidden mysteries of 
 God. But the fact stands that you did grasp it, and that with 
 it as a light unto your feet you groped your way out of this 
 environment, avoiding all pitfalls and evil snares, until to-day 
 you stand at the threshold of another and higher one. So prog- 
 ress must ever be, I now realize. Up we must rise from one 
 plane of human mentality to another, sifting and sorting the 
 thoughts that come to us, clinging to these, discarding those, 
 until, even as you have said, we learn at last instantly to accept 
 those that mirror forth God, infinite, divine mind, and to re- 
 ject those that bear the stamp of supposition." 
 
 "Padre," the girl said, lifting her beautiful face to his, "I 
 have told you so often — ^when a thought comes to me that I 
 think is not from God, or does not reflect Him, I turn right on 
 it and kill it. You could do the same, if you would." 
 
 "Assuredly, child— if I would!" he replied in bitterness of 
 heart. "So could all mankind. And then the millennium 
 would be with us, and the kingdom of heaven revealed. The 
 mesmeric belief in evil as an entity and a power opposed to 
 good alone prevents that. Destroy this beliv^f, and the curtain 
 will instantly rise on eternity." 
 
 His eyes struggled with hers, as he gazed long and wist- 
 fully into them. Lost in his impassioned speech, he had for 
 the moment seemed to be translated. Then a surge of fear- 
 
 353 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 thoughts swept him, and left him dwelling on the hazardous 
 journey that awaited her. He wildly clutched her again to 
 his side. 
 
 "Carmen — child — how can I let you go! So young, so ten- 
 der! And that awful journey — two hundred ijiiles of unknown 
 jungle, to the far-off Nechi! And then the burning river, to 
 Cartagena, where — where he is! Ahd the States — God, what 
 awaits you there!" 
 
 "Padre," she answered softly, "I shall not go unless it is 
 right. If it is right, then God will take care of me — and of 
 you." 
 
 Again she saw only the "right-best" thought, while he sat 
 trembling before its opposite. And the opposite was as yet a 
 supposition ! 
 
 "Padre dear, there is no separation, you know. God is 
 everywhere, and so there is no separation from good — is 
 there?" 
 
 "Not in your thought, dearest child," he murmured 
 huskily. 
 
 "Well, Padre dear, I am still with you, am I not? Can't you 
 live one day at A time? That is what Jesus taught us. You 
 are borrowing from to-ijiorrow, and you have no right to do it. 
 That's stealing. God says, 'Thou shalt not steal,' even from 
 to-morrow." 
 
 Yes, she was still at his side. Perhaps she would not go, 
 after all. He was borrowing, and borrowing supposition. The 
 thought seemed to lighten his load momentarily. 
 
 "Padre dear." 
 
 "Yes, chiquita." 
 
 "You have been thinking so many bad thoughts of late — I 
 don't suppose you have had any good thoughts at. all about 
 Anita's little babe?" 
 
 "The babe?" in a tone of astonishment. 
 
 "Yes. You know, it is not blind. You promised me that 
 every day you would just know that." 
 
 The rebuke smote him sore. Aye, his crowning sin was 
 revealed again in all its ugly nakedness. Egoism ! His thought 
 was always of his own iroubles, his own longings, his own 
 fears. Self-centeredness had left no room for thoughts of 
 Ana's blind babe. And why was he now straining this beauti- 
 ful girl to himself? Was it fear for her, or for himself? Yet 
 she gave but little heed to her own needs. Always her concern 
 was for others, others who stumbled and drooped because of 
 the human mind's false, unreal, undemonstrable beliefs and 
 ignorance of the allness of God. 
 
 "Ah, child," he exclaimed penitently, "such love! How 
 
 354 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 could I dare to hope ever to claim it! How can you say that 
 you love me?" 
 
 "Why, Padre, I love the real 'you,' the 'you' that is going 
 to be brought out, and that will become more and more clear, 
 until at last it stands as the perfect reflection of God. Haven't 
 I told you that, time and time again?" 
 
 "Yes, child. You love the ideal. But — to live with me — 
 to be my — " 
 
 "Well, Padre, if we were not still human we would not be 
 thinking that we were on earth. We have got to work out of 
 this human way of thinking and living. And it has seemed 
 to me that you and I could work out of it so much better to- 
 gether, you helping me, manifesting God's protection and care, 
 and I helping you, as you say I can and do. And how can we 
 live together and work together unless we marry? Ages make 
 no difference! And time is only a human concept." 
 
 He would not try to explain her reasoning, her contempt 
 for convention. It would be gratuitous. As for him, women 
 had never constituted a temptation. He knew that he loved 
 this simple, ingenuous girl with a tenderness of passion that 
 was wholly free from the dross of mesmerism. With that he 
 remained content. 
 
 'Tadre, if you think you must stay here for a little while, 
 to work out your problem, why, I shall just know that evil 
 can not separate us. I don't like to even seem to go away with- 
 out you. But — it will be only seeming, after all, won't it? 
 God's children can not really be separated — never!" 
 
 She was still paying faithful tribute to her vision of the 
 spiritual universe. And how her words comforted him! How 
 like a benison they flowed over his drooping spirits! 
 
 "And now. Padre dear," she said, rising from the bench, 
 "we have done all we could — left everything with God — haven't 
 we? I must go now, for madre Maria told me to come back 
 soon. She needs me." 
 
 "Don't — no, not yet! Wait^Carmen! Sing for me — just 
 once more! Sing again the sweet melody that I heard when 
 I awoke from the fever that day long ago!" 
 
 He drew her unresisting to his side. Nestling close against 
 him, her head resting on his shoulder and her hand in his,: she 
 sang again the song that had seemed to lift him that distant 
 day far, far above the pitiful longings and strivings of poor 
 humanity, even unto the gates of the city of eternal harmony. 
 
 She finished, and the last clear, sweet note echoed through 
 the musty room and died among the black rafters overhead. A 
 holy silence fell upon them as they sat, hand in hand, facing 
 the future. Hot tears were streaming down the man's cheeks. 
 
 355 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 They fell sparkling like drops of dew upon her brown curls. 
 But he made no complaint. The girl, obedient to the vision, 
 was reaping her reward. He, timid, wavering, doubting, was 
 left, still pecking at the shell of his dreary environment. It 
 was but the working of the infinite law of cause and effect. 
 But did he imagine that out in the world she would not still 
 find tribulation, even as the Saviour had said? Aye, she 
 would, in abundance! But she leaned on her sustaining God. 
 Her Christ had overcome the world. And so should she. She 
 had already passed through such fiery trials that he knew no 
 contrary belief in evil now could weaken or counterbalance 
 her supreme confidence in immanent good. 
 
 "Padre dear." 
 
 "Chiquita." 
 
 "If I have to go and leave you, will you promise me that 
 you will act your knowledge of the Christ-principle and work 
 out your problem, so that you may come to me soon?" 
 
 The tug at his heartstrings brought a moan to his lips. He 
 smothered it. "Yes, chiquita." 
 
 "And — ^you will keep your promise about Anita's babe?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 She rose and, still holding his hand, led him down the hill 
 and to Rosendo's house. 
 
 Throughout the remainder of that feverishly busy day the 
 priest clung to the girl like a shadow. They talked together 
 but little, for she was in constant demand to help her foster- 
 mother in the preparations for the long journey. But Jose 
 was ever at her side. Again and again he would seize her hand 
 and press it to his burning lips. Again and again he would 
 stroke her soft hair, or stretch out his hand to touch her dress 
 as she passed him. Always when she glanced up at him the 
 same sweet, compassionate smile glowed on her face. When 
 she left the house, he followed. When she bent over the ash- 
 strewn fireplace, or washed the few plain dishes, he sought to 
 share her employment; and, when gently, lovingly repulsed, 
 sat dully, with his yearning eyes riveted upon her. Rosendo 
 saw him, and forgot his own sorrow in pity for the suffering 
 priest. 
 
 The preparations carried the toilers far into the night. But 
 at length the last bundle was strapped to its siete, the last plan 
 discussed and agreed upon, and the two Americans had thrown 
 themselves upon their cots for a brief rest before dawn. Ro- 
 sendo took Jose aside, while Doiia Maria and Carmen sought 
 their beds. 
 
 "Fernando sends Juan to Bodega Central at daybreak," the 
 old man said. "All has been kept secret. No one suspects our 
 
 356 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 plans. Maria remains here with you until I return. Then we 
 may go to the hacienda of* Don Nicolas, on the Boque. I shall 
 tell him to have it in readiness on my return. I shall probably 
 not get back to Simitl for two months. If, as you say, you 
 still think best not to go with the- Americans and the girl, what 
 will you do here? The people are much divided. Some say 
 they intend to ask the Bishop to remove you. Bieh, will you 
 not decide to go?" 
 
 Jose could not make audible reply. He shook his head, and 
 waved Rosendo away. Then, taking a chair, he went into the 
 sleeping room and sat down at the bedside of the slumbering 
 girl. Reaching over, he took her hand. 
 
 What was it that she had said to him that day, long gone, 
 when Diego claimed her as his child? Ah, yes: 
 
 "Don't feel badly. Padre dear. His thoughts have only the 
 minus sign — and that means nothing, you know." 
 
 And later, many weeks later: 
 
 "Padre, you can not think wrong and right thoughts to- 
 gether, you know. You can not be happy and unhappy at the 
 same time. You can not be sick and well together." In other - 
 words, the wise little maid was trying to show him that Paul 
 spoke directly to such as he when he wrote: Know ye not, 
 that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, his servants 
 ye are — ? 
 
 "You can not have both good and evil. Padre," she had so 
 often insisted. "You must want good — want it more than any- 
 thing else. And then you must prepare for it by thinking 
 right thoughts and un-thinking wrong ones. And as you pre- 
 pare for good, you must know that it is coming. But you 
 must not say how it shall come, nor what it shall look like. 
 You must not say that it shall be just as you may think you 
 would like to have it. Leave the — the externalization to God. 
 Then it will meet all your needs. 
 
 "You see. Padre dear" — oh, how the memory of her words 
 smote him now! — "you see, the good Jesus told the people to 
 clean their window-panes and let in the light — good thoughts 
 — for then these would be externalized in health, happiness, 
 and all good, instead of the old, bad thoughts being externalized 
 longer in sickness and evil. Don't you see?" 
 
 Aye, he saw. He saw that the Christ-idea found expression 
 and reflection in the pure mentality of this girl. He saw that 
 that mentality was unsullied, uneducated in the lore of human 
 belief, and untrained to fear. He saw that the resurrection of 
 the Christ, for which a yearning world waits, was but the rising 
 of the Christ-idea in the human mentality. And he saw, too, 
 that ere the radiant resurrection morn can arrive there must be 
 
 357 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 the crucifixion, a world-wide crucifixion of human, carnal 
 thought. Follow Christ! Aye, follow him! But will ye not 
 learn that following him means thinking as he did? And his 
 thoughts were God's. 
 
 But Jose had tried to think aright during those years in 
 Simiti. True, but the efforts had been spasmodic. From 
 childhood he had passed through doubt, fear, scepticism, and 
 final agnosticism. Then he had started anew and aright. And 
 then had come the "day of judgment," the recurrent hours of 
 sore trial — and he had not stood. Called upon to prove God, 
 to prove the validity of his splendid deductions, he had vacil- 
 lated between the opposing claims of good and evil, and had 
 floundered helplessly. And now he stood confronting his still 
 unsolved problem, realizing as never before that in the solving 
 of it he must unlearn the intellectual habits of a lifetime. 
 
 There were other problems which lay still unsolved before 
 him as he sat there that night. The sable veil of mystery 
 which hung about Carmen's birth had never been penetrated, 
 even slightly. What woman's face was that which looked out 
 so sadly from the little locket? "Dolores" — sorrowful, indeed! 
 What tragedy had those great, mournful eyes witnessed? No, 
 Carmen did not greatly resemble her. He used to think so, 
 but not of late. Did she, he wondered, resemble the man? 
 And had the mother's kisses and hot tears blurred the portrait 
 beneath which he had so often read the single inscription, 
 "Guillermo"? If so, could not the portrait be cleaned? But 
 Jose himself had not dared attempt it. Perhaps some day that 
 could be done by one skilled in such art. 
 
 And did Carmen inherit any of her unique traits from 
 either of her parents? Her voice, her religious instinct, her 
 keen mentality — ^whence came they? "From God," the girl 
 would always answer whenever he voiced the query in her 
 presence. And he could not gainsay it. 
 
 Seven years had passed. And Jose found himself sitting 
 beside the sleeping girl and dumbly yielding to the separation 
 which now had come. Was his work finished? His course 
 run? And, if he must live and solve his problem, could he 
 stand after she had left? He bent closer to her, and listened 
 to the gentle breathing. He seemed again to see her, as he 
 was wont in the years past, flitting about her diminutive rose 
 garden and calling to him to come and share her boundless 
 joy, "Come!" he heard her call, "Come, Padre dear, and see 
 my beautiful thoughts!" And then, so often, "Oh, Padre!" 
 bounding into his arms, "here is a beautiful thought that came 
 to me to-day, and I caught it and wouldn't let it go!" Lonely, 
 isolated child, having nothing in common with the children of 
 
 358 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 her native heath, yet dwelling ever in a world peopled with 
 immaculate concepts! 
 
 Jose shook his head slowly. He thought of the day when 
 he had approached Rosendo with his great question. "Ro- 
 sendo," he had said in deep earnestness, "where, oh, where 
 did Carmen get these ideas? Did you teach them to her?" 
 
 "No, Padre," Rosendo had replied gravely. "When she was 
 a little thing, just learning to talk, she often asked about God. 
 And one day I told her that God was everywhere — what else 
 could I say? Bien, a strange light came into her eyes. And 
 after that. Padre, she talked continually about Him, and to 
 Him. And she seemed to know Him well — so well that she 
 saw Him in every thing and every place. Padre, it is very 
 strange — very strange!" 
 
 No, it was not strange, Jose had thought, but beautifully 
 natural. And later, when he came to teach her, his constant 
 endeavor had been to impart his secular knowledge to the 
 girl without endangering her marvelous faith in her immanent 
 God. In that he had succeeded, for in that there had been no 
 obstructing thoughts of self to overcome. 
 
 And now — 
 
 "For a small moment have I forsaken thee; but with great 
 mercies will I gather thee — " 
 
 The night shadows fled. Day dawned. Jose still sat at the 
 girl's bedside, dumb and motionless. Carmen awoke, and 
 threw her arms about him. But Rosendo appeared and hur- 
 ried her out to the light morning repast, for they must lose no 
 time in starting. Every moment now was precious. By ten 
 o'clock the savannas would be too hot to cross, and they lay 
 some distance from Simiti. Reed and Harris were bustling 
 about, assembling the packers and cracking jokes as they 
 strapped the chairs to the men's backs. Doiia Maria's eyes were 
 red with weeping, but she kept silence. Jose wandered about 
 like a wraith. Don Jorge grimly packed his own kit and pre- 
 pared to set out for the Magdalena, for he had suddenly an- 
 nounced his determination not to accompany Rosendo and his 
 party, but to go back and consult with Don Carlos Norosi in 
 regard to the future. An hour later he left Simiti. 
 
 At last Rosendo's voice rang out in a great shout: 
 
 "Ya estd! Vamonos!" 
 
 "Bully-bueno!" responded Harris, waving his long arms. 
 
 The cargadores moved forward in the direction of the 
 Boque trail. The Americans, with a final adios to Doiia Maria 
 and the priest, swung into line behind them. Rosendo again 
 tenderly embraced his weeping spouse, and then turned to 
 Jose. 
 
 359 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "The Virgin watch over you and Maria, Padre! I leave 
 her in your care. If the war comes, flee with her to the Boque." 
 
 He threw an arm about the priest and kissed him on both 
 cheeks. Then, calling to Carmen, he turned and started after 
 the others. 
 
 The girl rushed into Jose's arms. Her tears flowed freely. 
 
 "Padre," she murmured, clinging to him and showering 
 him with kisses, "I love you, love you, love you! I will wait 
 for you up there. You will come — or I will come back to you. 
 And I will work for you every day. I will know that you are 
 God's child, and that you will solve your problem!" 
 
 Rosendo, half way down the road, turned and called sharply 
 to her. The girl hurried after him. But again she stopped, 
 turned aroundi and flew back to Jose, as he knelt in the dust 
 and, with tongue cleaving to his mouth, held out his trembling 
 arms. 
 
 "Padre, dearest, dearest Padre," she sobbed, "I love you, I 
 love you! And — I had forgotten — this — it is for you to read 
 every day. — every day!" She thrust a folded paper into his 
 hand. Again she tore herself away and ran after the impatient 
 Rosendo. . In a moment they were out of sight. 
 
 A groan of anguish escaped the stricken priest. He rose 
 from his knees and followed stumbling after the girl. As he 
 reached the shales he saw her far in the distance at the mouth 
 of the trail. She turned, and waved her hand to him. Then 
 the dark trail swallowed her, and he saw her no more. 
 
 For a moment he stood like a statue, striving with futile 
 gaze to penetrate that black opening in the dense bush that 
 had engulfed his very soul. His bloodshot eyes were wild. 
 His lips fluttered. His hand closed convulsively over the paper 
 which the girl had left with him. Mechanically he opened it 
 and read: 
 
 "Dearest, dearest Padre,- these four little Bible verses I leave with 
 you; and you will promise your little girl that you will always, live by 
 them. Then your problem will be solved. 
 
 "1. Thou Shalt have no other gods before me. 
 
 "2. . Love thy^rieiKhbor as thyself. 
 
 "3. Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which Is in heaven 
 is perfect. 
 
 "4. Whosoever llveth and believeth in me shall never die. 
 
 "And, Padre, my dearest, dearest Padre, Ood is everywhere." 
 
 His hand fell. His brain reeled, and he swayed like a 
 drunken man. He turned about, muttering incoherently. 
 Doiia Maria stood behind him. Tenderly taking his arm, she 
 led him back to the forlorn little house. Its ghastly emptiness 
 smote him until his reason tottered. He sank into a chair 
 
 360 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 and gazed with dull, stony eyes out oVer the placid lake, where 
 the white beams of the rising sun were breaking into myriad 
 colors against the brume. 
 
 CHAPTER 37 
 
 THE two hundred miles which lay before Rosendo and his 
 little band stretched their rugged, forbidding length 
 through ragged cafions, rushing waters, and dank, vir- 
 ginal forest, Only the old man, as he trudged along the worn 
 trail between Simiti and the Inanea river, where canoes 
 waited to transport the travelers to the little village of Boque, 
 had any adequate conception of what the journey meant. Even 
 the cargadores were unfamiliar with the region which they 
 were to penetrate. Some of them had been over the Guamoco 
 trail as far as Culata; a few had ascended the Boque river to 
 its farthest navigable point. But none had penetrated the in- 
 most reaches of the great caiion through which the head- 
 waters tumbled and roared, and none had ever dreamed of 
 making the passage over the great divide, the Barra Principal, 
 to the Tigui beyond. 
 
 To the Americans, .fresh from the luxury and convention 
 of city life, and imbued with the indomitable Yankee spirit of 
 adventure, the prospect was absorbing in its allurements. 
 Especially to the excitable, high-strung Harris, whose great 
 eyes almost popped from his head at the continuous display of 
 tropical marvels, and whose exclamations of astonishment and 
 surprise, enriched from his inexhaustible store of American 
 slang and miner's parlance, burst from his gaping mouth at 
 every turn of the sinuous trail. From the outset, he had con- 
 stituted himself Carmen's special protector, although much to 
 Rosendo's consternation, for the lank, awkward fellow; whose 
 lean shoulders bent under the weight of some six-feet-two of 
 height, went stumbling and tripping along the way, swaying 
 against every tree and bush that edged the path, and constantly 
 giving noisy vent to his opinions regarding trails in general, 
 and those of the tropics in particular. His only accouterment 
 was a Winchester . rifle of tremendous bore, which he insisted 
 on carrying in constant readiness to meet either beasts of prey 
 or savage Indians, but which, in his absent-mindedness and 
 dreamy preoccupation, he either dragged, muzzle up, or car- 
 ried at such dangerous angles that the natives were finally 
 obliged, in self-protection, to insist that he hand the weapon 
 over to Rosendo. To Carmen, as the days passed and she 
 
 33 361 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 gradually recognized his sterling qualities, he became a source 
 of delight. Hour after hour she trotted along after him, chat- 
 ting merrily in her beloved English tongue, poking fun at his 
 awkwardness, and laughing boisterously over his quaint slang 
 and naive Yankee expressions. She had never heard such things 
 from Jose ; nor had the priest, despite his profound knowledge, 
 ever told her such exciting tales as did Harris, when he drew 
 from his store of frontier memories and colored his narratives 
 with the rich tints furnished by his easy imagination. 
 
 The first day out had been one of mental struggle for the 
 girl. She had turned into the trail, after waving a last farewell 
 to Jose, with a feeling that she had never experienced before. 
 For hours she trudged along, oblivious of her environment, 
 murmuring, "It isn't true — it isn't true!" until Harris, his 
 curiosity aroused by the constant repetition which floated now 
 and then f o his ears, demanded to know what it was that was 
 so radically false. 
 
 "It isn't true that we can be separated," she answered, look- 
 ing at him with moist eyes. 
 
 "We?" he exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes, God's children — people — ^people — who — love each 
 other," she replied. Then she dropped her eyes in evident 
 embarrassment, and refused to discuss the topic further. 
 
 "Lord Harry!" ejaculated Harris, pondering the cryptical 
 remark, "you surely are a queer little dud!" 
 
 But the girl turned from him to Rosendo. He understood 
 her. Nor would she permit the old man to leave her until, 
 late that night, exhausted by the excitement of the day, she 
 dropped asleep in the house of Don Nicolas, on the muddy 
 margin of the river Boque, still clinging to Rosendo's hand. 
 
 Despite the protestations of Don Nicolas and the pleading 
 of the cargadores, Rosendo stolidly refused to spend a day at 
 Boque. Apprehension lashed him furiously on. They were 
 still within reach of the federal authorities. He dared not rest 
 until the jungle had swallowed them. 
 
 "Ah, compadre," said Don Nicolas, in- disappointment, "I 
 would like much for you to enjoy my house while it is. still 
 clean. For the ants have visited me. Hombre! they swarmed 
 down upon us but a day ago. They came out of the bush in 
 millions, straight for the house. We .fled. Caramba! had we 
 remained, we should have been eaten alive. But they swept 
 the house — Hombre! no human hands could have done so well. 
 Every spider, every rat, beetle, flea, every plague, was instantly 
 eaten, and within a half hour they had disappeared again, and 
 we moved back into a thoroughly cleaned house!" 
 
 Harris stood with mouth agape in mute astonishment when 
 
 362 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Carmen, whom he had constituted his interpreter, translated 
 to him the story. 
 
 That evening, after they had eaten out in the open before 
 the house, and the Americans had tickled the palates of the 
 villagers with some tinned beef of uncertain quality, Don 
 Nicolas approached Reed. "Senor," he said, "my mother, 
 now very aged, is sick, and we think she can not recover. But 
 you Americanos are wonderfully skilled, and your medicines 
 powerful. Have you not some remedy in your pack that will 
 alleviate the go6d woman's sufferings? They are severe, 
 seiior." 
 
 Reed knew how great was the faith of these simple people 
 in the wisdom of the American, and he had reason to wish to 
 preserve it. But he had come into that country illy prepared 
 to cope with disease, and his medical equipment contained 
 nothing but quinine. He reflected a moment, then turned to 
 Harris. 
 
 "Did you smuggle any of your beloved root-beer extract 
 into the equipment?" he inquired, his eyes twinkling. 
 
 Harris looked sheepish, but returned a sullen affirmative. 
 
 "Well," continued Reed, "dig out a bottle and we'll fix up a 
 dose of pain-killer for our worthy host's mother." 
 
 Then he turned to Don Nicolds. "Cierto, senor," he said 
 with an air of confidence. "I have a remedy which I know to 
 be unfailing for any disease." 
 
 He disappeared into the house, from which he emerged 
 again in a few moments with an empty cola bottle. Washing 
 this clean in the river, he partly filled it with water. Then he 
 poured in the small bottle of root-beer extract which Harris 
 handed him, and added a few grains of quinine. Shaking the 
 mixture thoroughly, he carried it to Don Nicolas. 
 
 "Be very careful, seiior," he admonished, giving him the 
 bottle. "It is a medicine extremely powerful and immediate 
 in its action," Give the seiiora a small teaspoonfur every hour. 
 By morning you will notice a marked change." 
 
 Don Nicolds's eyes lighted with joy, and his gratitude 
 poured forth in extravagant expressions. 
 
 With the first indications of approaching day Rosendo was 
 abroad, rounding up his cargadores, who were already bicker- 
 ing as to their respective duties, and arranging the luggage in 
 the canoes for the river trip. Additional boats and men had 
 been secured; and Don Nicolas himself expressed his inten- 
 tion of accompai^ying them as far as his hacienda, Maria Rosa, 
 a day's journey up-stream. 
 
 "It was there that I hid during the last revolution," he 
 said, "when the soldiers burned the village and cut off the 
 
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CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ears and fingers of our women for their rings. Ah, seiiores, 
 you can not know how we suffered! All my goods stolen or 
 burned — my family scattered — my finca destroyed! We lived 
 two years at Maria Rosa, not daring to come down the river 
 again. We wore the skins of animals for clothing. Carambal" 
 His eyes burned fiercely as he spoke, and his hands opened 
 and closed convulsively. He was a representative of that large 
 class of rurales upon whom the heaviest burdens, the greatest 
 suffering, and the most poignant sorrow attending a political 
 revolution always fall. * 
 
 "But, seiior!" he exclaimed, suddenly turning to Reed, "I 
 had all but forgotten! My mother, she sends for you. She 
 Nvould see the kind American whose remedies are so wonder- 
 ful. For, seiior, she rose from her bed this morning restored! 
 And you must leave us another bottle of the remedy — at what- 
 ever price,, seiior!" 
 
 Reed gazed at the man uncomprehendingly, until at length 
 the truth dawned upon him. His root-beer remedy had done 
 its work! Then a broad grin mantled his face; but he quickly 
 suppressed it and went with Don Nicolas to receive in person 
 his patient's effusive^thanks. When he returned and took his 
 place in the waiting boat, he shook his head. "It's past all 
 understanding," he muttered to Harris, "what faith will do! 
 I can believe now that it will remove mountains." 
 
 Throughout the long, interminably long, hot day the per- 
 spiring men poled and paddled, urged and teased, waded and 
 pushed against the increasing current, until, as the shadows 
 began to close around them, they sighted the scarcely visible 
 opening in the bush which marked the trail to the hacienda of 
 Maria Rosa. It was a desperately lonely clearing on the verge 
 of the jungle; but there were two thatch-covered sheds, and 
 to the exhausted travelers it gave assurance of rest and protec- 
 tion. Before they made the landing Rosendo's sharp eyes had 
 spied a large ant-eater and her cub,, moving sluggishly through 
 the bush; and Reed's quick shots had brought them both down. 
 The men's eyes dilated when the animals were dragged into 
 the canoes. It meant fresh meat instead of salt bagre for at 
 least two days. 
 
 Early next morning the travelers bade farewell to Don 
 Nicolas and set their course again up-stream. They would now 
 see no human being other than the members of their own little 
 party until they reached Llano, on the distant Nechi. 
 
 ' "Remember," called Don Nicolas, as tlie canoes drifted 
 out into the stream, "the quebrada of Caracoli is the third on 
 the right. An old trail used to lead from there across to the 
 Tiguicito — but I doubt if you find even a trace of it now. 
 
 364 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 There is no water between that point and the Tiguicito. 
 Conqfie, adios, senores, adiosl" 
 
 The hallooing of farewells echoed along the river and died 
 away in the dark forest on either hand. Harris and Reed 
 settled back in their canoe and yielded to the fascination of the 
 slowly shifting scene. Carmen chose to occupy the same canoe 
 with them, and perforce Rosendo acted as patron. They 
 therefore took the lead. Between his knees Reed held the 
 rifle upright,, in readiness for any animal whose curiosity might 
 bring it to the water's edge to view the rare pageant passing 
 through that unbroken solitude. 
 
 The river was now narrowing, and there were often rapids 
 whose ascent necessitated disembarking from the canoes, 
 while the bogas strained and teased the lumbering dugouts up 
 over them. In places the stream was choked by fallen trees 
 and tangled driftwood, until only a narrow, tortuous opening 
 was left, through which the waters raced like a mill-course, 
 making a heavy draft on the intuitive skill of the bogas. Often 
 slender islets rose from the river; and then heated, chattering, 
 often acrimonious discussions ensued among the men as to the 
 proper channel to take. Always on either side rose the matted, 
 tangled, impenetrable forest wall of dense bush and giant trees, 
 from which innumerable trailers and bejuco vines dropped 
 into the waters beneath. From the surface of the river to the 
 tops of the great trees, often two hundred feet above, hung a 
 drapery of creeping plants, of parasitical growths, and diver- 
 sified foliage, of the most vivid shades of green, inextricably 
 laced and interwoven, and dotted here and there with orchide- 
 ous flowers and strange blossoms, while in the tempered sun- 
 light which sifted through it sported gorgeous insects and 
 butterflies of enormous size and exquisite shades, striped and 
 spotted in orange, blue, and vivid red. Scarcely a hand's 
 breadth of the jungle wall but contained some strange, eerie 
 animal or vegetable form that brought expressions of wonder 
 and. astonishment from the enraptured Americans. At times, 
 too, there were grim tragedies being enacted before them. In 
 one spot a huge, hairy spider, who^e delicate, lace-like web 
 hung to the water's edge, was viciously wrapping its silken 
 thread about a tiny bird that had become entangled. Again, 
 a shriek from beyond the river's margin told of some careless 
 monkey or small animal that had fallen prey to a hungry 
 jaguar. Above the travelers all the day swung the ubiquitous 
 buzzards, with, their watchful, speculative eyes ever on the 
 slowly moving cavalcade. 
 
 Carmen sat enthralled. If her thought reverted at all to 
 the priest, she gave no hint of it. But once, leaning back and 
 
 365 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 gazing off into the opalescent sky overhead, she murnfiured: 
 "And to think, it is only the way the human mind translates 
 God's ideas! How wonderful must they be! And some day I 
 shall see those ideas, instead of the mortal mind's interpreta- 
 tions of them!" 
 
 Harris heard her, and asked her to repeat her comments in 
 English. But she refused. "You would not understand," she 
 said simply. And no badinage on his part could further in- 
 fluence her. 
 
 Rosendo, inscrutable and silent, showed plainly the weight 
 of responsibility which he felt. Only twice that day did he 
 emerge from the deep reserve into which he had retired; once 
 when, in the far distance, his keen eye espied a small deer, 
 drinking at the water's edge, but which, scenting the travelers, 
 fled into cover ere Reed could bring the rifle to his shoulders; 
 and again, when they were upon a jaguar almost before either 
 they or the astonished animal realized it. 
 
 In the tempered rays of the late afternoon sun the flower- 
 bespangled walls of the forest became alive with gaily painted 
 birds and insects. Troops of chattering monkeys awoke from 
 their midday siesta and scampered noisily through the tree- 
 tops over the aerial highways formed by the liana vines, whose 
 great bush-ropes, often a foot and more in thickness, stretched 
 their winding length long distances through the forest, and 
 bound the vegetation together in an intricate, impenetrable 
 network. Yellow and purple blossoms, in a riot of ineffable 
 splendor, bedecked the lofty trees and tangled parasitical creep- 
 ers that wrapped around them, constituting veritable hanging 
 gardens. Great palms, fattened by the almost incessant rains 
 in this hot-house of Nature, rose in the spaces unoccupied by 
 the buttressed roots of the forest giants. Splendidly tailored 
 kingfishers swooped over the water, scarce a foot above its sur- 
 face. Quarreling parrots and nagging macaws screamed their 
 inarticulate message to the travelers. Tiny forest gems, the 
 infinitely variegated colibri, whirred across the stream and 
 followed its margins until attracted by the gorgeous pendent 
 flowers. On the playas in the hazy distance ahead the travel- 
 ers could often distinguish tall, solemn cranes, dancing their 
 grotesque measures, or standing on one leg and dreaming 
 away their little hour of life in this terrestrial fairy-land. 
 
 Darkness fell, almost with the swiftness of a snuffed candle. 
 For an hour Rosendo had been straining his eyes toward the 
 right bank of the river, and as he gazed his apprehension in- 
 creased. But, as night closed in, a soft murmur floated down 
 to the cramped, toil-worn travelers, and the old man, with a 
 glad light in his eyes, announced that they were approaching 
 
 366 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the quebrada of Caracoli. A half hour later, by the weird, 
 flickering light of the- candles which Reed and Harris held out 
 on either side, Rosendo turned the canoe into a brawling 
 stream, and ran its nose into the deep alluvial soil. Plunging 
 fearlessly through the fringe of delicate ferns which lined the 
 margin of the creek, he cut a wide sw^th with his great 
 machete and uncovered a dim trail, which led to a ramshackle, 
 thatch-covered hut a few yards beyond. It was the tumbled 
 vestige of a shelter which Don Nicolas had erected years be- 
 fore while hunting wild pigs through this trackless region. An 
 hour later the little group lay asleep on the damp ground, 
 wrapped in the solitude of the great forest. 
 
 The silvery haze of dawn was dimming the stars and deep- 
 ening into ruddier hues that tinged the fronds of the mighty 
 trees as with streaks of blood when Rosendo, like an implaca- 
 ble Nemesis, prodded his little party into activity. Their first 
 day's march through the wilderness was to begin, and the old 
 man moved with the nervous, restless energy of a hunted 
 jaguar. The light breakfast of coffee and cold arepa over, he 
 dismissed the bogus, who were to return to Boque with the 
 canoes, and set about arranging the cargo in suitable packs 
 for the cargadores who were to accompany him over the long 
 reaches of jungle that stretched between them and Llano. 
 Two macheteros were sent on ahead of the main party to 
 locate and open a trail. The rest followed an hour later. Be- 
 fore the shimmering, opalescent rays which overspread the 
 eastern sky had begun to turn downward, the little cavalcade, 
 led by Rosendo, had taken the narrow, newly-cut trail and 
 plunged into the shadows of the forest — 
 
 "the great, dim, mysterious forest, where uncertainty wavers to an inter- 
 rogation point." 
 
 CHAPTER 38 
 
 THE emotion of the jungle is a direct function of human 
 temperament. Where one sees in it naught but a "grim, 
 green sepulcher," teeming with malignant, destructive 
 forces, inimical to health, to tranquillity, to life, another — per- 
 haps a member of the same party — ^will find in the wanton 
 extravagance of Nature, her prodigious luxury, her infinite va- 
 riety of form, of color, and sound, such stimuli to the imagina- 
 tion, and such invitation to further discovery and development, 
 as to constitute a lure as insidious and unescapable as the 
 habit which too often follows the first draft of the opium's 
 fumes. There are those who profess to have journeyed 
 
 367 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 through vast stretches of South American selva without en- 
 countering a wild animal. Others, with sight and hearing 
 keener, and with a sense of observation not dulled by futile 
 lamentations over the absence of the luxuries of civilized 
 travel, will uncover a wealth of experiences which feed the 
 memory throughout their remaining years, and mold an irre- 
 sistible desire to penetrate again those vast, teeming, baffling 
 solitudes. 
 
 It is true, the sterner aspect of the South American jungle 
 affords little invitation to repose or restful contemplation. And 
 the charm which its riotous prodigality exerts is in no sense 
 idyllic. For the jungle falls upon one with the force of a blow. 
 It grips by its massiveness, its awful grandeur. It does not 
 entice admiration, but exacts obeisance by brute force. Its 
 silence is a dull roar. Its rest is continuous motion, incessant 
 activity. The garniture of its trackless wastes is that of great 
 daubs of vivid color, laid thick upon the canvas with the knife 
 — never modulated, never worked into delicate shading with the 
 brush, but attracting by its riot, its audacity, its immensity, its 
 disdain of convention, its utter disregard of the canons cher- 
 ished by the puny mind that contemplates it. The forest's ap- 
 peal is a reflex of its own infinite complexity. The sensations 
 which it arouses within the one who steps from civilization into 
 its very heart are myriad, and pften terrible. The instinct of 
 self-preservation is by it suddenly, rudely aroused and kept 
 keenly alive. Its inhospitality is menacing. The roar of its 
 howling monkeys strikes terror to the timid heart. The plain- 
 tive calls of its persecuted feathered denizens echo through the 
 mysterious vastnesses like despairing voices from a spirit world. 
 The crashing noises, the strailge, weird, unaccountable sounds 
 that hurtle through its dimly lighted corridors blanch the face 
 and cause the hand to steal furtively toward the loosely sheathed 
 weapon. The piercing, frenzied screams which arise with 
 blood-curdling effect through the awful stillness of noonday or 
 the dead of night, turn the startled thought with sickening 
 yearning toward the soft charms of civilization, in which the 
 sense of protection is greater, even if actual security is fre- 
 quently less. 
 
 Because of Nature's utter disregard of the individual, life 
 is everywhere. And that life is sharply armed and on the 
 defensive. The rising heat-waves hum with insects. The 
 bush swarms with them. Their droning murmur crowds the 
 air. The trunks of trees, the great, pendent leaves of plants, 
 the trailing vines, slimy with dank vegetation, afford footing ' 
 and housing to countless myriads of them, keenly alert, fero- 
 ciously resistive. The decaying logs fester with scorpions. 
 
 368 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The ground is cavernous with the burrows of lizards and crawl- 
 ing forms, with centipedes and fierce formicidae. Death and 
 terror stalk hand in hand. But life trails them. Where one 
 falls, countless others spring up to fill the gap.. The rivers and 
 pantanos yield their quota of variegated forms. The flat 
 perania, the dreaded electric eel, infests the warm streams, 
 and inflicts its torture without discrimination upon all who 
 dare invade its domain. Snakes lurk ih the fetid swamps and 
 lagoons, the brilliant coral and the deadly mdpina. Beneath 
 the forest leaves coils the brown adder, whose sting proves 
 fatal within three days. 
 
 To those who see only these aspects of the jungle, a journey 
 such as that undertaken by Rosendo and his intrepid little 
 band would prove a terrifying experience, a constant repeti- 
 tion of nerve-shocks, under which the "centers" must ulti- 
 mately give way. But to the two Americans, fresh from the 
 mining camps of the West, and attuned to any pitch that 
 Nature might strike in her marvelous symphony, the expe- 
 rience was one to be taken in the same spirit as all else that 
 pertained to their romantic calling. Rosendo and his men ac- 
 cepted the day's stint of toil and danger with dull stolidity. 
 Carmen threw herself upon her thought, and saw in her shift- 
 ing environment only the human mind's interpretation of its 
 mixed concept of good and evil. The insects swarmed around 
 her as around the others. The tantalizing jejenes urged their 
 insidious attacks upon her, as upon the rest. Her hands were 
 dotted with tiny blood-blisters where the ravenous gnats had 
 fed. But she uttered no complaint; nor would she discuss the 
 matter when Harris proffered his sympathy, and showed his 
 own red hands. 
 
 "It isn't true," she would say. "But you have no religion, 
 and you don't understand — as yet," 
 
 "Don't understand? And it isn't true, eh? Well, you have 
 mighty strange beliefs, young lady!" 
 
 "But not as strange and illogical as those you hold," she 
 replied. 
 
 "Oh, I don't believe anything," he answered, with a shrug 
 of his shoulders. "I'm an agnostic, you know:" 
 
 "There is just where you mistake, Mr. Harris," she returned 
 gravely. "For, instead of not believing anything, you firmly 
 believe in the presence and power of evil. It is just those very 
 people who boast that they do not believe in anything who be- 
 lieve most thoroughly in evil and its omnipotence and omni- 
 presence." 
 
 Yes, even the animals which she saw about her were but 
 the human mind's concepts of God's ideas — not real. Adam 
 
 369 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 had named them. In the Bible allegory, or dream, the human, 
 mortal mind names all its own material concepts. 
 
 The days wore on with dull regularity. From the rippling 
 Tiguicito, which they reached choking with thirst and utterly 
 exhausted, they dropped down again to the Boque, where they 
 established camps and began to prospect the Molino company's 
 "near-mines," as Harris called them after the first few unsuc- 
 cessful attempts to get "colors" out of the barren soil. At 
 certain points, where there seemed a more likely prospect, 
 they remained for days, until the men, under Rosendo's guid- 
 ance, could sink pits to the underlying bedrock. Such work 
 was done with the crudest of tools — an iron bar, wooden scrap- 
 ers in lieu of shovels, and wooden bateas in which the men 
 handed the loosened dirt up from one stage to another and 
 out to the surface. It was slow, torturing work. The men 
 grew restive. The food ran low, and they complained. 
 
 Then Harris one evening stumbled upon a tapir, just as 
 the great animal had forded the river and was shambling into 
 the bush opposite. He emptied his rifle magazine into the 
 beast. It fell with a broken hip, and the men finished it with 
 their machetes. Its hide was nearly a half inch in thickness, 
 and covered with garrapatas — ^fierce, burrowing vermin, with 
 hooked claws, which came upon the travelers and caused them 
 intense annoyance throughout the remainder of the journey. 
 
 Then Reed shot a deer, a delicate, big-eyed creature that 
 had never seen a human being and was too surprised to flee. 
 Later, Fidel Avila felled another with a large stone. And, 
 finally, monkeys became so plentiful that the men all but re- 
 fused to eat them any longer. 
 
 Two weeks were spent around the mouth of the Tiguicito 
 and the Boque caiion. Then Reed gave the order to advance. 
 The little party shouldered their packs and began the ascent 
 of the ragged gorge. For days they clambered up and down 
 the jagged walls of the cut, or skirted its densely covered mar- 
 gin. Twice Harris fell into the brawling stream below, and 
 was fished out by Rosendo, his eyes popping, and his mouth 
 choked with uncomplimentary opinion regarding mountain 
 travel in the tropics. Once, seizing a slender vine to aid him 
 in climbing, he gave a sudden lurch and swung out unexpect- 
 edly over the gorge, hundreds of feet deep. Again Rosendo, 
 who by this time had learned to keep one eye on the ground 
 and the other on the irresponsible Harris, rescued him from 
 his perilous position. 
 
 "Why don't you watch where you are going?" queried the 
 laughing Carmen. 
 
 "I might," sputtered Harris, "if I could keep my eyes off 
 
 370 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 of you." Whereat Carmen pursed her lips and told him to 
 reserve his compliments for those who knew how to appraise 
 them rightly. 
 
 They camped where night overtook them, out in the open, 
 often falling asleep without waiting to build a fire, but eating 
 soggy corn arepa and tinned food, and drinking cold coffee 
 left from the early morning repast. But sometimes, when the 
 fatigue of day was less, they would gather about their little 
 fire, chilled and dripping, and beg Carmen to sing to them 
 while they prepared supper. Then her clear voice would ring 
 out over the great canon and into the vast solitudes on either 
 hand in strange, vivid contrast to the cries and weird sounds 
 of the jungle; and the two Americans would sit and look at 
 her as if they half believed her a creature from another world. 
 Sometimes Harris would draw her into conversation on topics 
 pertaining to philosophy and religion, for he had early seen 
 her bent and, agnostic that he was, delighted to hear her ex- 
 press her views, which to him were so childishly impossible. 
 But as often he would voluntarily retire from the conflict, 
 sometimes shaking his head dubiously, sometimes muttering 
 his impatience with a mere child whose logic he, despite his 
 collegiate training, could not refute. He was as full of philo- 
 sophical theories as a nut with meat; but when she asked for 
 proofs, for less human belief and more demonstration, he 
 hoisted the white flag and retired from the field. But his ad- 
 miration for the child became sincere. His respect for her 
 waxed daily stronger. And by the time they had reached the 
 great divide through which the Rosario fell, he was dimly 
 aware of a feeling toward the beautiful creature who walked 
 at his side day after day, sharing without complaint hardship 
 and fatigue that sorely taxed his own endurance, that was 
 something more than mere regard, and he had begun to specu- 
 late vaguely on a possible future in which she became the 
 central figure. 
 
 At Rosario creek they left the great canon and turned into 
 the rugged defile which wound its tortuous course upward into 
 the heights of the Barra Principal. They were now in a re- 
 gion where, in Rosendo's belief, there was not one human being 
 in an area of a hundred square miles. He himself was in sore 
 doubt as to the identity of the quebrada which they were follow- 
 ing. But it tallied with the brief description given him by 
 Don Nicolas. And, moreover, which was even more impor- 
 tant, as they began its ascent there came to him that sense of 
 conviction which every true son of the jungle feels when he is 
 following the right course. He might not say how he knew he 
 was right; but he followed the leading without further ques- 
 .tion. 
 
 371 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Up over the steep talus at the base of the canon wall they 
 clambered, up into the narrowing arroyo, cutting every foot 
 of the way, for the macheteros were now no longer keeping 
 ahead of them — the common danger held the band united. 
 Often they believed they discovered traces of ancient trails. 
 But the jealous forest had all but obliterated them, and they 
 could not be certain. In the higher and drier parts of the 
 forest, where they left the creek and followed the beds of dead 
 streams, slender ditches through which the water raced in 
 torrents during the wet season, they were set upon by count- 
 less swarms of bees, a strange, stingless variety that covered 
 them in a buzzing, crawling mass, struggling and fighting for 
 the salt in the perspiration which exuded from the human 
 bodies. Harris swore he would cease to eat, for he could not 
 take even a mouthful of food without at the same time taking 
 in a multitude of bees. Often, too, their machetes cut into 
 great hornet nests. Then, with the shrill cry, "Avis pas!" Ro- 
 sendo would tear recklessly through the matted jungle, fol- 
 lowed by his slapping, stumbling companions, until the mad- 
 dened insects gave up the chase. Frequently they walked 
 into huge ant nests before they realized it, sometimes the great 
 tucanderas, so ferociously poisonous. ""Ah, senores," com- 
 mented Rosendo, as he once stopped to point out the marvelous 
 roadway cut by these insects for miles straight through the 
 jungle, "in the days of the Spaniards the cruel taskmasters 
 would often tie the weak and sick slaves to trees in the depths 
 of the forest and let these great ants devour them alive! 
 Senores, you can never know the terrible crimes committed by 
 the Spaniards!" 
 
 "And they were Christians!" murmured, Harris,. eying Car- 
 men furtively. 
 
 But she knew, though she voiced it not, that the Spaniard 
 had never known the Christ. 
 
 Night was spent on the summit of the divide. Then, with- 
 out further respite, Rosendo urged the descent. Down through 
 ravines and gullies ; over monster bowlders ; waist deep through 
 streams; down the sheer sides of gorges on natural ladders 
 formed by the hanging mora vines; skirting cliffs by the aid of 
 tangled and interlaced roots of rank, wet vegetation; and then 
 down again into river bottoms, where the tenacious mud chal- 
 lenged their every step, and the streams became an interminable 
 morass, through which passage was possible only by jumping 
 from root to root, where the gnarled feeders of the great trees 
 projected above the bottomless ooze. The persecution of the 
 jejenes became diabolical. At dawn and sunset the raucous 
 bellow of the red-roarer monkeys made the air hideoUs. The 
 
 372 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 flickering lights of the forest became dismally depressing. The 
 men grew morose and sullen. Reed and Harris quarreled with 
 each other on the slightest provocation. 
 
 Then, to increase their misery, came the rain. It fell upon 
 them in the river bottoms in fierce, driving gusts; then in sheets 
 that blotted out the forest and wet their very souls. The 
 heavens split with the lightning. The mountains roared and 
 trembled with the hideous cannonade of thunder. The jungle- 
 matted hills ran with the flood. An unvaried pall of vapor hung 
 over the steaming ground, through which uncanny, phantas- 
 magoric shapes peered at the struggling little band. 
 
 Again the sun burst forth, and a fiery vapor seethed above 
 the moist earth. The reek of their damp clothing and the acrid 
 odor of the wet soil increased the enervation of their hard 
 travel. Again and again, the peevish Harris accused Rosendo 
 of having lost the way. The old man patiently bore the abuse. 
 Reed chided Harris, and at length quarreled violently with him, 
 although his own apprehension waxed continually greater. 
 Carmen said little. Hour after hour she toiled along, flounder- 
 ing through the bogs, fording the deeper streams on Rosendo's 
 broad back, whispering softly to him at times, often seizing 
 and pressing his great horny hand, but holding her peace. 
 In vain at evening, when gathered about the damp, smudging 
 firewood, Harris would bring up to her the causes of her flight. 
 In vain he would accuse the unfortunate Alcalde, the Bishop, 
 the soldiers. Carmen refused to lend ear to it, or to see in it 
 anything more than a varied expression of the human mind. 
 Personality was never for a moment considered. She saw, not 
 persons, not things, but expressions of thought in the phe- 
 nomena which had combined to urge her out of her former 
 environment and cast her into the trackless jungle. 
 
 At length, one day, when it seemed to the exhausted travel- 
 ers that human endurance could stand no more, Rosendo, who 
 had long been straining his ears in the direction straight ahead, 
 announced that the singing noise which floated to them as 
 they descended a low' hill and plunged into a thicket of tall 
 lush grass, undoubtedly came from the river Tigui. Another 
 hour of straining and plunging through the dense growth 
 followed; and then, with a final effort, which manifested in a 
 sort of frenzied rush, the little band emerged suddenly upon 
 the east bank of the crystal stream, glittering and shimmering 
 in the bright morning sun as it sang and rippled on its solitary 
 way through the great jungle. 
 
 The men threw off their packs and sprawled full length 
 upon the ground. Rosendo pointed across the river. 
 
 "La Colorado," he said, indicating what the Americans at 
 
 373 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 length made out to be a frame house, looming above the high 
 grass. "And there," pointing to the north, "is Pozo Cayman, 
 ■where the trail begins that leads to La Libertad." 
 
 That night, as they lay on the rough beard floor of the 
 house at La Colorado, Rosendo told them the story of the mis- 
 guided Frenchmen who, years before, had penetrated this wild 
 region, located a barren quartz vein, then floated a company 
 and begun developments. A considerable colony settled here. 
 The soil was fertile; the undeveloped country ceaselessly rich 
 in every resource, the water pure and sparkling, and abound- 
 ing in fish. The climate, too, was moderate and agreeable. 
 It seemed to the foreigners a terrestrial paradise. But then 
 came the insidious fever. It crept out of the jungle like a thief 
 in the night. One by one the Frenchmen fell sick and died. 
 Panic seized upon them. Those unafllicted fled — all but one. 
 He remained to protect the company's property. But he, too, 
 fell a victim to the plague. One day, as he lay burning upon 
 his bed, he called feebly to his one remaining servant, the 
 native cook, to bring him the little package of quinine. She 
 hastened to comply; but, alas! she brought the packet of strych- 
 nine instead, and soon he, too, had joined his companions in 
 that unknown country which awaits us all. The old woman 
 fled in terror; and the evil spirits descended upon the place. 
 They haunt it yet, and no man approaches it but with trembling. 
 
 Reed and Harris listened to the weird story with strange 
 sensations. The clouds above had broken, and the late moon 
 streamed through the night vapor, and poured through the 
 bamboo walls of the house. The giant frogs in the near-by 
 creek awoke, and through the long night croaked their mourn- 
 ful plaint in a weird minor cadence that seemed to the awed 
 Americans to voice to the shimmering moon the countless 
 wrongs of the primitive Indians, who, centuries before, had 
 roamed, this marvelous land in happy freedom; until the 
 Spaniard descended like a dark cloud and, with rack and 
 stake, fastened his blighting religion upon them. 
 
 A day's rest at La Colorado sufficed to revive the spirits of 
 the party and prepare them for the additional eight or ten 
 hour journey over boggy morass and steep hill to La Libertad. 
 For this trip Rosendo would take only the Americans and 
 Carmen. The cargadores were not to know the nature of this 
 expedition, which, Rosendo announced, was undertaken that 
 the Americans might explore for two days the region around 
 the upper Tigui. The men received this explanation with 
 grunts of satisfaction. 
 
 Trembling with suppressed excitement, oblivious now of 
 fatigue, hunger, or hardship. Reed and Harris followed the old 
 
 374 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 man that day over the ancient, obliterated trail to the forgotten 
 mine of Don Ignacio de Rincon. They experienced all the 
 sensations of those who find themselves at last on the course 
 that leads to buried treasure. To Harris, the romance attach- 
 ing to the expedition obliterated all other considerations. But 
 Reed was busy with the practical end of it, with costs, with the 
 problems of supplies, of transportation, and trail. Carmen 
 saw but one vision, the man in far-off Simiti, whose ancestor 
 once owned the great mine which lay just ahead of them. 
 
 When night fell, the four stood, silent and wondering, at 
 the mouth of the crumbling tunnel, where lay a rusted shovel 
 bearing the scarce distinguishable inscription, "I cle R." 
 ♦ »*♦»» 
 
 Two weeks later a group of natives, sitting at a feast of 
 baked alligator tail, at the mouth of the Amaceri, near the 
 dirty, straggling riverine town of Llano, rose in astonishment as 
 they saw issuing from the clayey, wallowing Guamoco trail a 
 staggering band of travelers, among them two foreigners, 
 whose clothes were in shreds and whose beards and unkempt 
 hair were caked with yellow mud. With them came a young 
 girl, lightly clad and wearing torn rope alpargates on her bare 
 feet. The heat was descending in torrents. From the neighbor- 
 ing town floated a brawling bedlam of human voices. It was 
 Sunday, and the villagers were celebrating a religious fiesta, 
 
 "Compadres," said Rosendo, approaching the half-intoxi- 
 cated group. "The boat — ^which way?" 
 
 One of the group, his mouth too full to speak, pointed in 
 expressive pantomime up-stream. Rosendo murmured a fer- 
 vent "Loado sea Dios," and sank upon the ground. 
 
 "It will be down to-morrow — to-day, perhaps," gurgled an- 
 other of the rapidly recovering f casters, his eyes roving from 
 one member to another of the weird-looking little band. 
 
 "Lord Harry!" exclaimed Harris, as he squatted upon the 
 damp ground and mopped his muddy brow. "I'm a sala- 
 mander for heat, that's certain!" 
 
 "Sefior," said Rosendo, addressing Reed, "it would be well 
 to pay the men at once, for the boat may appear at any time, 
 and it will not wait long." 
 
 While the curious group from the village crowded about and 
 eagerly watched the proceedings. Reed unstrapped his pack 
 and drew out a bundle of Colombian bills, with which he began 
 to pay the cargadores, according to the reckoning which Ro- 
 sendo had kept. As the last man, with a grunt of satisfaction, 
 received his money, Harris exclaimed: "And to think, one 
 good American dollar is worth a bushel of that paper stuff!" 
 
 The words were scarcely out of his mouth when a shrill 
 
 375 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 whistle came echoing down the river. A cloud of smoke 
 above the distant treetops heralded the approach of the steam- 
 er. The little party had escaped a wait of a month in the 
 drenching heat of Llano by the narrow margin of an hour. 
 
 Rosendo hastened to Reed and drew him aside. He tried to 
 speak, but words failed him. Reed took his hand. "I under- 
 stand, my friend," he said gently. "Have no fear. The mine 
 is all I had anticipated. My wife and I will care for the girl 
 until we hear from you. And we will keep in touch with you, 
 although it will take two months for a letter to reach us and 
 our reply to get back again to Simiti. The development com- 
 pany will be formed at once. Within six months you may 
 expect to see the work started. It is your fortune — and the 
 girl's." 
 
 Carmen drew close to Rosendo. "Padre, I am coming back 
 to you — ^yes?" 
 
 "Cierto, chiquita!" The old man would not permit him^ 
 self to say more. The girl had known for some time that he 
 was not to accompany her to the States, and that she should 
 not see Ana in Cartagena. To this she had at length accus- 
 tomed herself. 
 
 In a few minutes the lumbering boat had swung around and 
 thrown out its gang plank. A hurried embrace; a struggle 
 with rushing tears; another shriek from the boat whistle; and 
 the Americans, with Carmen standing mute and motionless 
 between them, looked back at the fading group on shore, where 
 Rosendo's tall figure stood silhouetted against the green back- 
 ground of the forest. For a moment he held his arm extended 
 toward them. Carmen knew, as she looked at the great-hearted 
 man for the last time, that his benediction was following her 
 —following her into that new world into which he might not 
 enter. 
 
 *♦••♦» 
 
 Reed lifted the silent, wondering, big-eyed girl from the 
 dinkey train which pulled into Cartagena from Calamar ten 
 days later, and took her to the Hotel Mariana, where his 
 anxious, fretting wife awaited. Their boat had hung on a 
 hidden bar in the Cauca river for four interminable, torturing 
 days. 
 
 376 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 39 
 
 ON the day that Carmen arrived in Cartagena, Rosendo stag- 
 gered down the Guamocd trail into Simiti. On that same 
 momentous day the flames of war again flared up through- 
 out the country. The Simiti episode, in which the President 
 had interfered, brought Congress to the necessity of action. A 
 few days of fiery debate followed; then the noxious meas- 
 ure was taken from the table and hastily enacted into a 
 law. 
 
 But news travels slowly in Latin America, and some time 
 was required for this act of Congress to become generally 
 known. The delay saw Carmen through the jungle and down 
 to the coast. There Reed lost no time in transacting what busi- 
 ness still remained for him in Cartagena, and securing trans- 
 portation for his party to New York. 
 
 Jose, the shadow of his former self, clung pitiably to Ro- 
 sendo's hand, imploring the constant repetition of the old 
 man's narrative. .Then came Jtian, flying to the door. He 
 had seen and talked with the returned cargadores. The girl 
 had not come back with them. He demanded to know why. 
 He became wild. Neither Jose nor Rosendo could calm him. 
 At length it seemed wise to them both to tell him that she 
 had gone to the States with the Americans, and would return 
 to Simiti no more. 
 
 The blow almost crushed the lad. He rushed about the 
 town half dazed. He gathered groups of companions about 
 him and talked to them excitedly. He threatened Rosendo and 
 Jos6. Then, evidently acting on the advice of some cooler head, 
 he rushed to his canoe and put off across the lake toward the 
 cafio. He did not return for several days. But when he did, 
 the town knew that he had been to Bodega Central, and that 
 the country was aflame with war. 
 
 ♦ ♦•♦♦♦ 
 
 Reed's wife had not received Carmen in an amiable frame 
 of mind. "For heaven's sake, Charles," she had cried, turning 
 from his embrace to look at the wondering girl who stood 
 behind him, "what have you here?" 
 
 "Oh, that," he laughingly replied, "is only a little Indian I 
 lassoed back in the jungle." And, leaving the girl to the not 
 very tender graces of bis wife, he hurried out to arrange for 
 the return voyage. 
 
 At noon, when Harris appeared at Reed's room. Carmen 
 rushed to him and begged to be taken for a stroll through the 
 
 377 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 town. Yielding to her husband's insistence, Mrs. Reed had 
 outfitted the girl, so that she presented a more civilized ap- 
 pearance. At first Carmen had been delighted with her new 
 clothes. They were such, cheap as they were, as she had never 
 seen in Simiti, But the shoes — "Ah, senora," she pleaded, "do 
 not make me wear them, they are so tight ! I have never worn 
 shoes before." She was beginning her education in the con- 
 ventions and trammels of civilization. 
 
 As Carmen and Harris stood that afternoon in the public 
 square, while the girl gazed enraptured at an equestrian statue 
 of Simon Bolivar, a ragged little urchin approached and 
 begged them to buy an afternoon paper. Harris humored him 
 and bade Carmen ask him his name. 
 
 "Rincon," the lad answered, drawing himself up proudly. 
 
 The girl started. "Rinc6n!" she repeated. "Why — ^where 
 do you live?" 
 
 "In the Calle Lozano," he replied, wondering why these 
 people seemed interested in him. 
 
 Carmen translated the conversation to Harris. "Ask him 
 who his father is," suggested the latter. 
 
 "I do not know," replied the little fellow, shaking his head. 
 "I never saw him. He lives far away, up the great river, so 
 Tia Catalina says. And she says he is a priest." 
 
 The color suddenly left Carmen's cheeks. "Come with me 
 to your home," she said, taking his hand. 
 
 The boy led them willingly through the winding streets to 
 the little upper room where, years before, he had first seen the 
 light. 
 
 "Tia Catalina," he cried to the shabby woman who rose in 
 amazement as the visitors entered, "see, some strangers!" 
 
 Carmen lost no time, but went at once to the heart of her 
 question. 
 
 "The little fellow's father — he is a Rincon? And — he lives 
 up the great river?" 
 
 The woman eyed her suspiciously for some moments with- 
 out replying. But the boy answered for her. "Yes, senorita," 
 he said eagerly, "in Simiti. And his name — I am named for 
 him — it is Jose. And I am going to visit him some day. Tia 
 Catalina said I should, no, Tia?" 
 
 Harris fumbled in his pocket and drew out some money, 
 which he handed to the woman. Her eyes lighted, and a cav- 
 ernous smile spread over her wrinkled face. 
 
 "Ah, gracias, senor," she murmured, bending over his 
 hand; "we need it. The boy's father has sent us but little of 
 late." 
 
 Carmen's heart was fluttering wildly. "Tell me," she said in 
 
 378 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 a cold voice, "the boy's father is Padre Jose de Rinc6n, of 
 Simiti? You need not fear to speak. We have just come from 
 Simiti, and have seen him. We are leaving to-morrow for the 
 States." 
 
 "Yes, senorita," replied the woman in a thin, cracking 
 voice, now completely disarmed of her suspicion. "The little 
 fellow was born here some seven years ago. Ah, well I re- 
 member the day! And his mother, poor little lamb! She 
 died the same night. But the good Padre has sent us money 
 ever since to care for him, until of late. Seiiorita, why is it, 
 think you, that he sends us so little now?" 
 
 "I — do — not — know," murmured Carmen abstractedly, 
 scarce hearing the woman. Then she turned to the boy. She 
 bent over him and looked long and wistfully into his eyes. 
 He was a bright, handsome little fellow; and though her heart 
 was crushed, she took him into it. Swallowing the lump which 
 had come into her throat, she drew him to the window and 
 sat down, holding him before her. 
 
 "Your father — I know him — well. He is a — a good man. 
 But — I did not know — I never knew that he had a son." She 
 stopped, choking. 
 
 "Tia Catalina says he is a fine man," proudly answered the 
 boy. "And she wants me to be a priest, too. But I am going 
 to be a bull-fighter." 
 
 "It is true, seiiorita," interposed the woman. "We cannot 
 keep him from the arena now. He hangs about it all day, and 
 about the slaughter-house. We can hardly drag him back to 
 his meals. What can we do, senorita? But," with a touch of 
 pride as she looked at him, "if he becomes a bull-fighter, he 
 will be the best of them all!" 
 
 Carmen turned again to the woman. Her question carried 
 an appeal which came from the depths of her soul. "Seiiora, 
 is there no doubt — no doubt that Padre Rincon is the father 
 of the boy?" 
 
 "We think not, seiiorita. The lad's mother died in the 
 good Padre's arms. She would not say positively who was the 
 boy's father. We thought at first — it was some one else. Mar- 
 celena insisted on it to her dying day. But now — now we 
 know that it was Padre Jos6. And he was sent to Simiti for 
 it. But — ah, seiiorita, the little mother was so beauti- 
 ful, and so good! She — but, seiiorita, you are not leaving 
 so soon ?" 
 
 Carmen had risen. "Yes, my good sefiora," she said weari- 
 ly. "We must now return to the hotel. But — here is more 
 money for the boy. And, seiiora, when I reach the States I 
 will send you money every month for him." 
 
 879 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 She took Harris's hand. "Come," she said simply, "I have 
 seen enough of the city." 
 
 ♦ » » ♦ » ♦ 
 
 At noon the next day a message from Bodega Central was 
 put into the hand of the acting-Bishop of Cartagena, as he sat 
 in his study, wrapped in the conitemplation of certain papers 
 before him. Hostilities had begun along the Magdalena river 
 the day before. The gates of Cartagena were to be barricaded 
 that day, for a boatload of rebels was about to leave Barran- 
 quilla to storm the city and seize, if possible, the customs. 
 When he had read the message he uttered an exclamation. 
 Had not the Sister Superior of the Convent of Our Lady re- 
 ported the arrival of the daughter of Rosendo Ariza some days 
 before? He seized his hat and left the room. 
 
 Hastening to the Department of Police, he had a short 
 interview with the chief. Then that official despatched police- 
 men to the office of the steamship company, and to the dock. 
 Their orders were to arrest two Americans who were abducting 
 a young girl. They returned a half hour later with sheepish 
 faces. "Your Excellency," they announced to their chief, 
 "the vessel sailed from the port an hour ago, with the Ameri- 
 cans and the girl aboard." 
 
 The announcement aroused in Wenceslas the fury of a 
 tiger. Exacerbation succeeded surprise; and that in turn gave 
 way to a maddening thirst for sanguinary vengeance. He has- 
 tened out and despatched a telegraphic message to Bogota. 
 Then he returned to his study to await its effect. 
 
 Two days later a river steamer, impressed by the federal 
 authorities, stopped at the mouth of the Boque, and a squad of 
 soldiers marched over the unfrequented ti-ail to Simiti, where 
 they arrived as night fell. Their orders were to take into 
 custody the priest, Jose de Rincon, who was accused of com- 
 plicity in the recent plot to overthrow the existing govern- 
 ment. 
 
 At the same time, on a vessel plowing its way into the North, 
 a young girl, awkwardly wearing her ill-fitting garments, hung 
 over the rail and gazed wistfully back at the. Southern Cross. 
 The tourists who saw her heterogeneous attire laughed. But 
 when they looked into her beautiful, sad face their mirth died, 
 and a tender pity stirred their hearts. 
 
 380 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 BOOK 3 
 
 A ND while within myself I trace 
 J-\ The greatness of some future race. 
 
 Aloof with hermit-eye I scan 
 The present works of present man, — 
 A wild and dream-like trade of blood and guile. 
 Too foolish for a tear, too wicked for a smile! 
 
 — Coleridge. 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 1 
 
 THE blanket of \vet fog which had hung over the harbor 
 with such exasperating tenacity lifted suddenly, late 
 in the raw fall afternoon, and revealed to the wondering 
 eyes of the girl who stood alone at the rail of the Joachim a 
 confusion of mountainous shadows, studded with myriad 
 points of light which glittered and shimmered beneath the 
 gray pall. Across the heaving waters came the dull, ominous 
 breathing of the metropolis. Clouds of heavy, black smoke 
 wreathed about the bay. Through it shrieking water craft 
 darted and wriggled in endless confusion. For two days the 
 port of New York had been a bedlam of raw sound, as the 
 great sirens of the motionless vessels roared their raucous 
 warnings through the impenetrable veil which enveloped them. 
 Their noise had become acute torture to the impatient tourists, 
 and added bewilderment to the girl. 
 
 The transition from the primitive simplicity of her tropical 
 home had not been one of easy gradation, but a precipitate 
 plunge. The convulsion which ensued from the culmination 
 of events long gathering about little Simiti had hurled her 
 through the forest, down the scalding river, and out upon the 
 tossing ocean with such swiftness that, as she now stood at 
 the portal of a new world, she seemed to be wandering through 
 the mazes of an intricate dream. During the ocean voyage she 
 had kept aloof from the other passengers, partly because of 
 embarrassment, partly because of the dull pain at her heart as 
 she gazed, day after day, at the two visions which floated always 
 before her : one, the haggard face of the priest, when she tore 
 herself from his arms in far-off Simiti; the other, that of the 
 dark-faced, white-haired old man who stood on the clayey river 
 bank at wretched Llano and watched her, with eager, straining 
 eyes, until the winding stream hid her from his earthly sight — 
 forever. She wondered dully now why she had left them, why 
 she had so easily yielded to the influences which had caused 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the separation. They might have fled to the jungle and lived 
 there in safety and seclusion. The malign influences which 
 beset them all in Simiti never could have reached them in the 
 trackless forest. And yet, she knew that had not Rosendo and 
 Jose held out to her, almost to the last moment, assurances of 
 a speedy reunion, she would not have yielded to the pressure 
 which they had exerted, and ; to the allurements of life in the 
 wonderful country to which 'they had sent her. Her embar- 
 rassment on the boat was due largely to a sense of awkward- 
 ness in the presence of women who, to her provincial sight, 
 seemed visions of beauty. To be sure, the priest had often 
 shown her pictures of the women of the outside world, and 
 she had some idea of their dress. But that .such a vast differ- 
 ence existed between the illustrations and the actualities, she 
 had never for a moment imagined. Their gowns, their jewlls, 
 their coiffures held her in open-mouthed marvel, until Mrs. 
 Reed, herself annoyed and embarrassed, remanded her to her 
 cabin and bade her learn the impropriety of such manners. 
 
 Nor had the conduct of this lady throughout the voyage 
 conduced to Carmen's happiness. Mrs. Reed showed plainly 
 that the girl was an awkward embarrassment to her; that she 
 was tolerated because of reasons which pertained solely to her 
 husband's business; and she took pains to impress upon her 
 fellow-travelers that, in view of the perplexing servant prob- 
 lem, this unmannered creature was being taken to the States 
 to be trained as a maid, though, heaven knew! the training 
 would be arduous, and the result uncertain. 
 
 Reed, though measurably kind, gave Carmen scant atten- 
 tion. Harris alone saved the girl from almost complete neglect. 
 He walked the deck with her, regardless of the smiles of the 
 other passengers. He taught 'her to play shuffle-board, check- 
 ers, and simple card games. He conducted her over the boat 
 and explained the intricate machinery and the numberless 
 wonders of the great craft. He sat with her out on the deck 
 at night and told her marvelous stories of his experiences in 
 frontier camps. And at the table he insisted that she occupy 
 the seat next to him, despite the protestations of the chief 
 steward, who would have placed her apart with the servants. 
 
 Carmen said little, but she clung to the man with an ap- 
 peal which, though mute, he nevertheless understood. At 
 Kingston he took her on a drive through the town, and bought 
 post cards for her to send back to Jose and Rosendo. It con- 
 soled her immeasurably when he glowingly recounted the 
 pleasure her loved ones W9uld experience on receiving these 
 cards ; and thereafter the girl daily devoted hours to the prepa- 
 ration of additional ones to be posted in New York. 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The lifting of the fog was the signal for a race among the 
 stalled craft to gain the harbor entrance. The enforced reten- 
 tion of the vessels in the bay had resulted in much confusion in 
 docking, and the Joachim was assigned to a pier not her own. 
 The captain grumbled, but had no choice. At the pier oppo- 
 site there docked a huge liner from Havre; and the two boats 
 poured their swarming human freight into the same shed. 
 When the gang plank dropped, Harris took charge of Carmen, 
 while Reed and his wife preceded them ashore, the latter giving 
 a little scream of delight as she spied her sister and some 
 friends with a profusion of flowers awaiting her on the pier. 
 She rushed joyfully into their arms, while Reed hastened to 
 his equipage with a customs officer. 
 
 But as Harris and the bewildered Carmen pushed into the 
 great crowd in the shed, the absent-minded man suddenly 
 remembered that he had left a bundle of Panama hats under- 
 neath his bunk. Dropping the girl's hand, the impetuous 
 fellow tore back up the gang plank and dived into the boat. 
 
 For a moment Carmen stood in confusion, bracing herself 
 against the swarming multitiide, and clinging tenaciously to 
 the small, paper-wrapped bundle which she carried. Her first 
 impulse was to follow Harris. But the eager, belated crowd 
 almost swept her off her feet, and she turned again, drifting 
 slowly with it toward the distant exit. As she moved uncer- 
 tainly, struggling the while to prevent being crushed against 
 the wall, she felt some one grasp her hand. 
 
 "Oh, here you are!" sounded a gentle voice close to her 
 ear. "Well, how fortunate! We thought we had lost you! 
 Come, they are waiting for us up ahead." 
 
 Carmen looked up at the speaker. It was a woman, comely 
 of feature, and strikingly well dressed. The girl thought her 
 beautiful. The anxious fears of a moment before vanished. 
 "Is he up there — Mr. Reed?" she asked quickly. 
 
 "He? Oh, yes— Mr. Reed and the others are waiting for us. 
 They sent me back to find you. The automobiles came for you 
 all; but I presume the others have gone by this time. How- 
 ever, you and I will follow in mine. I am Auntie." 
 
 "His aunt?" the girl asked eagerly, as the woman forced a 
 way for them through the mass of humanity. 
 
 "Yes, dear. And I am so glad to see you. I have heard all 
 about you." ' 
 
 "Did he write to you — from Simiti?" 
 
 "Yes, long letters. And he told all about his little girl. He 
 said your name was — " 
 
 "Carmen," interrupted the girl, with a great surge of glad- 
 ness, for here was one woman who did not avoid her. 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Yes, Carmen. It is a sweet name." 
 
 "But — Mr. Harris!" cried Carmen, suddenly stopping as she 
 remembered. 
 
 "Oh, did he wait? Well, he will come. He knows where 
 to find the automobiles. I will leave word with the pier-master 
 to tell him." 
 
 By this time they had wormed their way clear of the crowd 
 and gained the street. The woman, still retaining Carmen's 
 hand, went directly to a waiting automobile and pushed the 
 unresisting girl through the open door. Carmen had never 
 seen a conveyance like this, and her thought was instantly 
 absorbed. She looked wonderingly for the horses. And then, 
 sinking into the luxurious cushions, she fell to speculating as 
 to how the thing was moved. 
 
 As the chauffeur reached back to close the door a police- 
 man, who had been eying the party since they came out of the 
 shed, stepped up and laid a hand on the car. 
 
 "Er — little girl," he said, looking in and addressing Carmen, 
 "you — you know this lady, do you?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Carmen, looking up confidently into the 
 woman's smiling face. "She is Auntie, Mr. Reed's aunt." She 
 thought his blue uniform and shining buttons and star gor- 
 geously beautiful. 
 
 The officer stood hesitant a moment. Suspicion lurked in 
 his eyes as he looked at the woman and then back again at 
 the girl. 
 
 "She is a little girl who came up from the South with my 
 nephew, Mr. Reed," the woman explained easily. "But I don't 
 wonder you asked. I will give you my card, if you wish." 
 
 Her air was supremely confident. The chauffeur, too, as he 
 got out and leisurely examined his engine, served further to 
 disarm suspicion. The oflBcer raised up and removed his hand 
 from the machine. The chauffeur slowly mounted the box and 
 threw on his lever. As the car moved gently into the night the 
 oflScer glanced at its number. "Hell!" he muttered, turning 
 away. "What's the use? The number would be changed any- 
 way. What's a fellow going to do in a case like this, I'd like 
 to know — go with 'em?" 
 
 Some minutes later, Harris, wild and disheveled, followed 
 by Reed and his party, emerged hurriedly into the street. 
 
 "What you looking for?" asked the officer, planting him- 
 self in front of Harris, and becoming vaguely apprehensive. 
 
 "Girl!" sputtered Harris, his eyes protruding and his long 
 arms pawing the air. "Girl — so high — funny dress — big straw 
 hat! Seen her?" 
 
 The officer gasped. "She's gone! Aunt took her just now 
 in an auto!" 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Aunt!" yelled Harris. "She's got no aunt ! She's from the 
 jungle!" 
 
 For a moment they all stood silent, big-eyed and gaping. 
 
 "Look here, Mr. Officer," said Reed, interposing. "My 
 name's Reed. The girl came up from South America with me. 
 Describe the woman — " 
 
 "Reed!" cried the policeman excitedly, his eyes lighting. 
 "That's it! Said she was your aunt!" 
 
 "Lord Harry! You great, blundering boob!" cried' the dis- 
 tracted Harris, menacing the confused officer. "And you let 
 her nab the kid?" 
 
 Night had fallen, and a curious crowd was gathering around 
 the excited, noisy group. Reed quickly signaled a taxicab and 
 hustled the bewildered officer into it. "You, Harris, get the 
 women folks home, and wait for me! I'll go to central with 
 this officer and report the case!" 
 
 "Not I!" exclaimed Harris wildly. "I'm going to visit every 
 dance hall and dive in this bloomin' town before I go home! 
 I'm going to find that girl! And you, you blithering idiot," 
 shaking a fist at the officer, "you're going to lose your star 
 for this!" 
 
 Meantime, the car, in which Carmen lay deep in the soft 
 cushions, sped through the dusk like a fell spirit. A confused 
 jumble of shadows flew past, and strange, unfamiliar noises 
 rose from the animated streets. The lights shimmered on the 
 moist glass. It was confusing. The girl ceased trying to read 
 any meaning in it. It all fused into a blur; and she closed her 
 eyes and gave herself up to the novel sensations stimulated by 
 her first ride in a carriage propelled — she knew not how. . 
 
 At length came a creaking, a soft, skidding motion, and 
 the big car rolled up agaiiist a curb and stopped. 
 
 "We are home now," said the woman softly, as she de- 
 scended and again took Carmen's hand. They hurriedly 
 mounted the white stone steps of a tall, gloomy building and 
 entered a door that seemed to open noiselessly at their ap- 
 proach. A glare of light burst upon the blinking eyes of the 
 girl. A negro woman softly closed the door after them. With 
 a wondering glance, Xarmen looked about her. In the room 
 at her right she caught a glimpse of women — ^beautiful, they 
 seemed to her — clad in Joose, low-cut, gaily colored gowns. 
 There were men there, too; and some one sat at a piano playing 
 sprightly music. She had seen pianos like that in Cartagena, 
 and on the boat, and they had seemed to her things bewitched. 
 In the room at the end of the hall men and women were dan- 
 cing on a floor that seemed of polished glass. Loud talk, laugh- 
 ter, and singing floated through the rooms, and the air was 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 warm and stuflfy, heavy with perfume. The odor reminded 
 her of the roses in her own little garden in Simiti. It was all 
 beautiful, wonderful, fairy-lHie, 
 
 But she had only a moment for this appraisal. Seizing her 
 hand again, the woman whisked her up the flight of stairs 
 before them and into a warm, light room. Then, without 
 speaking, she went out and closed the door, leaving the girl 
 alone. 
 
 Carmen sank into a great, upholstered rocking chair and 
 tried to grasp it all as she swayed dreamily back and forth. 
 So this was his home, Mr. Reed's. It was a palace ! Like those 
 Jose had described. She wondered if Harris dwelt in a place 
 of such heavenly beauty; for he had said that he did not live 
 with Reed. What would the stupid people of Simiti think 
 could they see her now! She had never dreamed that such 
 marvels existed in the big world beyond her dreary, dusty, 
 little home town! Jose had told her much, ah, wonderful 
 things ! And so had Harris. But how pitifully inadequate now 
 seemed all their stories! She still wondered what had made 
 that carriage go in which she had come up from the boat. 
 And what would one like it cost? Would her interest in La 
 Libertad suffice to buy one? She speculated vaguely. 
 
 Then she rose and wandered about the room. She passed 
 her hand over the clean, white counterpane of the bed. "Oh," 
 she murmured, "how beautiful!" She went dreamily to the 
 bureau and took up, one by one, the toilet articles that lay 
 there in neat array. "Oh, oh, oh!" she murmured, again and 
 again. She glanced into the clear mirror. The little .figure 
 reflected there contrasted so oddly with the gorgeously beautiful 
 ones she had glimpsed below that she laughed aloud. Then 
 she went to the window and felt of the soft curtains. "It is 
 heaven," she murmured, facing about and sweeping the room, 
 "just heaven! Oh, how beautiful even the human mind can 
 be! I never thought it, I never thought it!" 
 
 Again she sat down in the big rocker and gave herself up 
 to the charm of her surroundings. Her glance fell upon a vase 
 of flowers that stood on a table near another window. She 
 rose and went to them, bending over to inhale their fragrance. 
 "How strange!" she exclaimed, as she felt them crackle in her 
 fingers. Poor child, they were artificial ! But she would learn, 
 ere long, that they fittingly symbolized the life of the great city 
 in which she was now adrift. 
 
 Time passed. She began to wonder why the woman did 
 not return. Were not the Reeds anxious to know of her safe 
 arrival? But perhaps they had visitors. Stirely that was the 
 case. It was a ball — ^but so different from the simple, artless 
 
 8 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 baile of her native town. Stray snatches of music drifted into 
 the room from the piano below. It stimulated a hunger for 
 more. She went to the door, thinking to open it a little and 
 listen. The door was locked ! 
 
 For a moment she stood reflecting. Then apprehension be- 
 gan to steal over her. She went hastily, instinctively, to a 
 window and raised the curtain. There were iron bars in front 
 of it! She remembered suddenly that prison windows were 
 like that. She hurried to the other. It was likewise barred. 
 Terror's clammy hand gripped at her heart. Then she caught 
 herself — and laughed. "How silly!" she exclaimed, sinking 
 again into the rocker. "God is everywhere — right here!" 
 
 At that moment the door opened noiselessly and a woman 
 entered. She was younger than the one who had met the boat. 
 When she saw the girl she uttered an exclamation. "Lord! 
 where did you get those clothes?" 
 
 Carmen glanced down at her odd attire and then smiled 
 up at the woman. "Cartagena," she said simply. "Mrs. Reed 
 bought them for me. But are you her sister? You don't look 
 like her." 
 
 The woman laughed, a sharp, unmusical laugh. The dry 
 cosmetic plastered thick upon her cheeks cracked. She was not 
 beautiful like the others, thought Carmen. Her cheeks were 
 sunken, and her low-cut gown revealed great, protruding collar- 
 bones. "Come," she said abruptly, "get out of those rags and 
 into something modern." She opened a closet door and selected 
 a gown from a number hanging there. It was white, and there 
 was a gay ribbon at the waist. 
 
 "It'll have to be pinned up," she commented to herself, 
 holding it out before her and regarding Carmen critically. 
 
 The girl's eyes danced. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "am I to 
 wear that? How beautiful! Did Mrs. Reed give it to me? And 
 is there a party down stairs?" 
 
 The woman returned no answer, but opened a bureau 
 drawer and took from it several other garments, which she 
 threw upon a chair, together Avith the dress. 
 
 "Into the whole lot of 'em," she said sharply, indicating 
 the garments. "And move lively, for supper's waitin' and 
 there'll be callers soon — gentlemen callers," she added, smiling 
 grimly. 
 
 She turned and faced Carmen. Their eyes met. The 
 woman stopped abruptly and stood with arms akimbo, re- 
 garding the girl. Carmen gazed up at her with a smile of 
 happy, trustful assurance. 
 
 The woman was the first to speak. "Where did you come 
 from?" she demanded hoarsely. 
 
 9 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Carmen told her. She mentioned Simiti, Padre Jose, and 
 Rosendo. Her voice quavered a little; but she brightened up 
 and concluded: "And Mr. Reed's Auntie, she met us — that is, 
 me. Oh, isn't she a beautiful lady J" 
 
 The woman seemed to be fascinated by the child's gaze. 
 Then, suddenly, as if something had given way under great 
 strain, she cried: "For God's sake, don't look at me that way! 
 Who are you?" She dropped into a chair and continued to 
 stare at the girl. 
 
 "Well, I've told you," replied Carmen. "But," she con- 
 tinued, going quickly to the woman and taking her hand, 
 "you haven't told me your name yet. And we are going to be 
 such good friends, aren't we? Yes, we are. And you are going 
 to tell me all about this beautiful house, and that wonderful 
 carriage I came here in. What did make it go, anyway? Do 
 you ride often? Oh, I hope Mrs. Reed will take me out in it 
 every day!" 
 
 The woman's hand tightened over Carmen's. She seemed 
 to struggle with herself. Then, in a low voice : 
 
 "Your mother — is she living?" 
 
 "Madre Maria is," returned Carmen. "But my mother, my 
 own real motlier, she died, long, long ago, on the banks of the 
 great river. My father left her, and she was trying to follow 
 him. Then I was born — " 
 
 "The same old story!" muttered the woman fiercely. "I've 
 been there, girl, and know all about it. I followed the man — 
 but it was my kid that died ! God, if I could have laid my hands 
 on him! And now you have come here — " 
 
 She stopped abruptly and swallowed hard. Carmen "gently 
 stole an arm about her neck. "It isn't true," she murmured, 
 laying her soft cheek against the woman's painted one. "No 
 one can desert us or harm us, for God is everywhere. And no 
 one really dies. We have got to know that. Padre Jose said 
 I had a message for the people up here; and now you are the 
 first one I've told it to. But that's it : God is everywhere. And 
 if we know that, why, nothing bad can ever happen to us. But 
 you didn't know it when your husband left you, did you?" 
 
 "Husband!" ejaculated the woman. Then she looked up 
 into the girl's deep, wondering eyes and checked herself. 
 "Come," she said abruptly, rising and still holding her hand. 
 "Never mind the clothes." A grim look settled over her fea- 
 tures. "We'll go down to supper now as you are." 
 
 Carmen's companion led her down the stairs and through 
 the hall to a brightly lighted room at the rear, where about a 
 long table sat a half dozen women. There were places for as 
 many more, but they were unoccupied. ' The cloth was white; 
 
 io 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the glass shone, the silver sparkled. And the women, who 
 glanced up at the girl, were clad in gowns of such gorgeous 
 hues as to make the child gasp in amazement. Over all hung 
 the warm, perfumed air that she had thought so delicious 
 when she had first entered the house. 
 
 The noisy chatter at once ceased. The woman led her to a 
 chair next to the one she herself took. Carmen looked around 
 for the lady who had met her at the boat. She was not there. 
 The silence and the steady scrutiny of the others began to 
 embarrass her. "Where — where is Auntie?" she asked timidly, 
 looking up at her faded attendant. 
 
 A titter ran around the table. One of the women, who 
 swayed slightly in her chair, looked up stupidly. "Who's 
 Auntie?" she muttered thickly. A burst of laughter followed 
 this remark, and Carmen sat down in confusion. 
 
 "Where's the Madam, Jude?" asked one of the younger 
 women of Carmen's attendant. 
 
 "Dining alone in her room. Headache," was the laconic 
 reply. 
 
 "She landed a queen this time, didn't she?" looking ad- 
 miringly at Carmen. "Gets me, how the old girl does it! 
 What's your name, kiddo?" 
 
 "Carmen," replied the girl timidly, looking questioningly 
 about the room. 
 
 "That's a good handle. But what's the rest?" put in an- 
 other. 
 
 "Carmen Ariza," the child amended, as her big, wondering 
 eyes swept the group. 
 
 "Wow! That's a moniker for you!" laughed one. "Where 
 do you hail from, angel-face?" 
 
 The girl looked uncomprehendingly at her interlocutor. 
 
 "Your home, you know. I see your finish, all right. But 
 where'd you begin?" 
 
 "Tell them where you lived, child," said the woman called 
 Jude in a low voice. 
 
 "Simiti," replied Carmen, tears choking her words. 
 
 "Simiti!" echoed around the table. "New York? Ohio? 
 Or Kansas?" A burst, of mirth punctuated the question. 
 
 "Do the women vote there?" 
 
 "Long way from Paris, judging by the fashions." 
 
 "Where is Simiti. kidlet?" 
 
 Carmen answered in a scarcely audible voice, "South 
 America." 
 
 Low exclamations of astonishment encircled the table, 
 while the women sat regarding the girl curiously. 
 
 "But," continued Carmen in a trembling voice, "where is 
 
 11 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Mrs. Reed? And isn't Mr. Harris liere? Wliy don't tiiey come? 
 Don't they know I am here?" 
 
 She loolied appealingly from one to another. Her beautiful 
 face wore such an expression of mingled fear, uncertainty, and 
 helplessness as to throw a hush upon the room. One of the 
 women rose. "God!" she muttered, "it's a shame!" She 
 looked far a moment uncertainly into the big, deep eyes of the 
 girl, and then turned and hastily left the room. 
 
 The silence which followed was broken by a pallid, painted 
 creature at the end of the table. 
 
 "What an old devil the 'Madam is! My God! One look 
 into those eyes would have been enough for me!" 
 
 "What's the idea, Jude?" asked another, nodding toward 
 the girl. "Does she stay here?" 
 
 The woman addressed as Jude shook her head. "This is 
 only a recruiting station for the regular army. She'll go over 
 to French Lucy's ; and the Madam will get a round price for 
 the job." 
 
 "Old Lucy'll get rich off of her ! But she needs the money. 
 Ames owns her house, too, doesn't he?" 
 
 "Sure thing!" replied Jude, brightening under the stimulus 
 of her wine. "He owns every house in this block, they say. 
 Got long leases for 'em all. And the rents — suffering Moses! 
 The Madam rolls on the floor and cusses for a week straight 
 every time she pays hers. But just the same, if you've ever 
 noticed, the houses that Ames owns are never raided by the 
 coppers. Ames whacks up with the mayor and the city hall 
 gang and the chief of police. That means protection, and we 
 pay for it in high rents. But it's a lot better'n being swooped 
 down on by the cops every few weeks, ain't it? We know 
 what we're expected to pay, that way. And we never do when 
 we keep handin' it out to the cops." 
 
 "That's right," approved some one. 
 
 "It sure is. That's what the collector says. And he's 
 got a new collector, fellow from the Ketchim Realty Company. 
 They're the old man's agents now for his dive-houses. He can't 
 get anybody else to handle 'em, so the collector tells me." 
 
 "Belle Carey's place was pulled last night, I hear," said 
 one of the women, pushing back her "plate and lighting a 
 cigarette. 
 
 "Yes," returned Jude, "and why? Cause the house is owned 
 by Gannette — swell guy livin' up on Riverside Drive — and he 
 don't divvy with the city hall. Belle don't pay no such rent as 
 the Madam does — at least so old Lucy tells me." 
 
 The half-intoxicated woman down the table, who had stirred 
 their laughter a few minutes before, now roused up heavily. 
 
 12 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "or Lucy — huh! Used to work for her m'self. Caught a 
 pippin for her once — right off the train — jus' like this li'l 
 hussy. Went to th' depot in a hack. Saw th' li'l kid comin' 
 an' pretended to faint. Li'l kid run to me an' asked could 
 she help. Got her to see me safe home — tee! hee! She's 
 workin' f'r ol' Lucy yet, sound's a dollar." 
 
 She fixed her bleared eyes upon Carmen and lapsed back 
 into her former state of sodden stupidity. 
 
 The girl rose hastily from her chair. The policeman's 
 words at the pier were floating confusedly through her thought. 
 The strange talk of these women increased the confusion. Per- 
 haps a mistake had been made. She turned beseechingly to 
 Jude. "Isn't this — Mr. Reed's house?" she asked. 
 
 Another of the women got up hurriedly and left the table. 
 "I haven't the nerve for another sob-scene," she commented 
 as she went out. 
 
 "Where am I? Where am I?" pleaded Carmen, turning 
 from one to another. 
 
 Jude reached out and seized her hand tightly. "Pleasant 
 job for me!" she commented ironically, looking at the others. 
 Then, to Carmen: 
 
 "You are in a — a hotel," she said abruptly. 
 
 "Oh — then — then it was a mistake?" The girl turned her 
 great, yearning eyes upon the woman. Jude shrank under 
 them. "Sit down, and finish your supper," she said harshly, 
 pulling the girl toward the chair. 
 
 "No!" replied Carmen loudly. "You must take me to Mr. 
 Reed!" 
 
 The maudlin woman down the table chuckled thickly. The 
 negro waitress went quickly out and closed the door. Jude 
 rose, still holding the girl's hand. "Come up stairs with me," 
 she said, leading her away. 
 
 "Poor old Jude!" commented one of the women, when the 
 two had left the room. "She's about all in. This sort of busi- 
 ness is getting her nerve. But she's housekeeper, and that's 
 part of her job. And — the poor little kid! But ain't she a 
 beauty!" 
 
 Jude took the girl into her own room and locked the door. 
 Then she sank wearily into a chair. "God!" she cried, "I'm 
 sick of this — sick of the whole thing!" 
 
 Carmen went quickly to her. "Don't!" she said. "Don't! 
 It was all a mistake, and we can. go." 
 
 "Go!" echoed the woman bitterly. "Where^and how?" 
 
 "Why, you said this was a hotel — " 
 
 "Hotel! God, it's hell! And you are in forever!" 
 
 Carmen gazed at the excited woman with a puzzled ex- 
 pression on her face. 
 
 36 ^3 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Now listen," said Jude, bracing herself, "I've got some- 
 thing to tell you. You have been — good God ! I can't — I can't ! 
 For God's sake, child, don't look at me that way! Who are 
 you? Where do you come from?" 
 
 "I told you," replied Carmen quietly. 
 
 "Your face looks as if you had come down from the sky; 
 But if you did, and if you believe in a God, you had better pray 
 to Him now!" 
 
 "Why — I am not afraid. God is everywhere — right here. 
 I was afraid — a little — at first. But not now. When we stop 
 and just know that we love everybody, and that everybody 
 really loves us, why, we can't be afraid any more, can we?" 
 
 The woman looked up at the child iff blank amazement. 
 Love! That warped, twisted word conveyed no meaning to 
 her. And God — it was only a convenient execrative. But— 
 what was it that looked out from that strange girl's eyes? 
 What was it that held her fascinated there? What was emerg- 
 ing from those unfathomable depths, twining itself about her 
 withered heart and expanding her black, shrunken soul? 
 Whence came that beautiful, white life that she was going to 
 blast? And could she, sifter all? Then what stayed her now? 
 
 "Look here," she cried sharply, "tell me a^ain all about 
 yourself, and about your friends and family down south, and 
 what it was that the Madam said to you! And be quick!" 
 
 'Carmen sat down at her feet, and taking her hand, went 
 again over the story. As the child talked, the woman's hard 
 eyes widened, and now and then a big tear rolled down the 
 painted cheek. Her thought began to stray back, far back, 
 along the wreck-strewn path over which she herself had come. 
 At last in the dim haze she saw again the little New England 
 farm, and her father, stern, but honest and respected, trudging 
 behind the plow. In the cottage she saw her white-haired 
 mother, every lineament bespeaking her Puritan origin, hover- 
 ing over her little household like a benediction. Then night 
 fell, swiftly as the eagle swoops down upon its prey, and she 
 awoke from a terrible dream, stained, abandoned, lost — and 
 seared with a foul oath to drag down to her own level every 
 innocent girl upon whom her hands might thereafter fall! 
 
 "And I have just had to know," Carmen concluded, "every 
 minute since I left Simiti, that God was everywhere, and that 
 He would not let any harm come to me. But when we really 
 know that, why, the way always opens. For that's prayer, 
 right prayer; the kind that Jesus taught." 
 
 The woman sat staring at the girl, an expression of utter 
 blankness upon her pallid face. Prayer! Oh, yes, she had 
 been taught to pray. Well she remembered, though the mem- 
 
 14 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ory now cut like a knife, how she knelt at her beautiful 
 mother's knee and asked the good Father to bless and protect 
 them all, even to the beloved doll that she hugged to her little 
 bosom. But God had never heard her petitions, innocent though 
 she was. And He had let her fall, even with a prayer on her 
 lips, into the black pit! 
 
 A loud sound of male voices and a stamping of feet rose 
 from below. The woman sprang to the door and stood listen- 
 ing. "It's the boys from the college!" she cried in a hoarse 
 whisper. 
 
 She turned and stood hesitant for a moment, as if striving 
 to formulate a plan. A look of fierce determination came into 
 her face. She went to the bureau and took from the drawers 
 several articles, which she hastily thrust into the pocket of her 
 dress. 
 
 "Now," she said, turning to Carmen and speaking in a low, 
 strained voice, "you do just as I say. Bring your bundle. And 
 for God's sake don't speak!" 
 
 Leaving the light burning, she stepped quickly out with 
 Carmen and locked the door after her. Then, bidding the girl 
 wait, she slipped softly down the hall and locked the door of 
 the room to which the girl had first been taken. Both keys she 
 dropped into her pocket. "Now follow me," she said. 
 
 Laughter and music floated up from below, mingled with the 
 clink of glasses. The air was heavy with perfume and tobacco 
 smoke. A door near them opened, and a sound of voices 
 issued. The woman pulled Carmen into a closet until the hall 
 was again quiet. Then she hurried on to another door which 
 she entered, dragging the girl with her. Again she locked the 
 door after her. Groping through the darkness, she reached 
 a window, across which stood a hinged iron grating, secured 
 with a padlock. The woman fumbled among her keys and un- 
 fastened this. Swinging it wide, and opening the window be- 
 yond, she bade the girl precede her cautiously. 
 
 "It's a fire-escape," she explained briefly. She reached 
 through the window grating and fastened the padlock; then 
 closed the window; and quickly descended with the girl to the 
 ground below. 
 
 Pausing a moment to get her breath, she seized Carmen's 
 hand and crept swiftly around the big house and into a dark 
 alley. There she stopped to throw over her shoulders a light 
 shawl which she had taken from the bureau. Then she hurried 
 on. 
 
 , Their course lay through the muddy alley for several blocks. 
 When they emerged they were in a dimly lighted cross street. 
 The air was chill, and the thinly clad woman shivered. Car- 
 
 15 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 men, fresh from the tropics, felt the contrast keenly. A few 
 moments' rapid wallcing down the street brought them to a 
 large building of yellow brick, surrounded by a high board 
 fence. The woman unfastened the gate and hurried up to the 
 door, over which, by the feeble light of the street lamp. Carmen 
 read, "The Little Sisters of the Poor." 
 
 A black-robed woman admitted them and went to summon 
 the Sister Superior. Carmen marveled at her strange attire. 
 A moment later they were silently ushered into an adjoining 
 room, where a tall woman, similarly dressed, awaited them. 
 
 "Sister," said Jude excitedly, "here's a little kid — you got 
 to care for her until she finds her friends!" 
 
 The Sister Superior instantly divined the status of the 
 woman. "Let the child wait here a moment," she said, "and 
 you come with me and tell your story. It would be better that 
 she should not hear." 
 
 In a little while they appeared again. Carmen was drows- 
 ing in her chair. 
 
 "She's chock full of religion," the woman was saying. 
 
 "But you," the Sister replied, "what will you do? Go back?" 
 
 "God, no!" cried the woman. "They would murder me!" 
 
 "Then you will stay here until — " 
 
 "No, no! I have friends — others like myself — I will go to 
 them. I — I couldn't stay here — with her," nodding toward the 
 girl. "But — you will take care of her?" 
 
 "Surely," returned the Sister in a calm voice. 
 
 Jude looked at Carmen for a moment. She made as if she 
 would speak. Then she turned abruptly and went swiftly out 
 into the chill night. 
 
 "Come," said the Sister to Carmen, extending a hand. "Poor 
 little thing!" she murmured as they mounted the stairs. "Poor 
 little thing!" 
 
 CHAPTER 2 
 
 CARMEN was astir next morning lojig before the rising-bell 
 sounded its shrill summons through the long corridors. 
 When she opened her eyes she gazed at the ceiling above in 
 perplexity. She still seemed to feel the tossing motion of the 
 boat, and half believed the bell to be the call to the table, where 
 she should again hear the cheery voice of Harris and meet the 
 tolerant smile of Mrs. Reed. Then a rush of memories swept 
 her, and her heart went down in the flood. She was alone in a 
 great foreign city! She turned her face to the pillow, and for 
 a moment a sob shook her. Then she reached under the pillow 
 
 16 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 and drew out the little Bible, -which she had taken from her 
 bundle and placed there when the Sister left her the night 
 before. The book fell open to. Isaiah, and she read aloud: 
 
 "I the Lord have called thee in righteousness, and 
 will hold thine hand, and will keep thee, and give thee 
 for a covenant of the people, for a light of the Gentiles." 
 
 She snapped the book shut and quickly rose. "That means 
 me," she said firmly. "Padre Jose said I had a message for 
 the world; and now I am to tell it to these people up here. 
 God has called me in righteousness. -That means. He has called 
 me to do right thinking. And I am to tell these people how 
 to think right. They don't know as yet." 
 
 Suddenly her thought reverted to Cartagena, and to the 
 sturdy little lad who had so proudly claimed the name of 
 Rincon. For a moment she stood still. Then she burst into 
 tears and threw herself back upon the bed. 
 
 But she did not lie there long. "I must think only God's 
 thoughts," she said, struggling to her feet and checking her 
 grief. "If it is right for the little boy to be his son, then I must 
 want it to be so. I must want only the right — I have got to 
 want it! And if it is not right now, then God will make it so. 
 It is all in His hands, and I .must not think of it any more, 
 unless I think right thoughts." 
 
 She dressed herself quickly, but did not put on the shoes. 
 "I simply can not wear these things," she mourned, looking at 
 them dubiously; "and I do not believe the woman will make 
 me. I wonder why the other woman called her Sister. Why 
 did she wear that ugly black bonnet? And why was I hurried 
 away from that hotel? It was so much pleasanter there, so 
 bright and warm; and here it is so cold." She shivered as 
 she buttoned her thin dress. "But," she continued, "I have 
 got to go out now and find Mr. Reed and Mr. Harris — I have 
 just got to find them — and to-day! But, oh, this city is so 
 much larger than Simiti!" 
 
 She shook her head in perplexity as she put the Bible back 
 again in the bundle, where lay the title papers to La Libertad 
 and her mother's little locket, which Rosendo had given her 
 that last morning in Simiti. The latter she drew out and re- 
 garded wistfully for some moments. "I haven't any father or 
 mother but God," she murmured. "But He is both father and 
 mother to me now." With a little sigh she tied up the bundle 
 again. Holding it in one hand and carrying the much despised 
 shoes in the other, she left the cheerless room and started 
 down the long, cold hall. 
 
 When she reached the stairway leading to the floor below 
 
 17 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 she stopped abruptly. "Anita's babe!" she exclaimed half- 
 aloud. "I have been thinking only of myself. It is not blind! 
 It sees! It sees as God sees! What is it that the Bible says? 
 — 'And I will bring them by a way that they knew not; I will 
 lead them in paths that they have not known: I will make 
 darkness light before them, and crooked things straight.' I 
 must know that — always! And Padre Jos6 said he would re- 
 member it, too." 
 
 Again she choked back the tears which surged up at the 
 remembrance of the priest, and, bracing herself, hastily de- 
 scended the stairs, murmuring at every step, "God is every- 
 where — right here!" 
 
 At the far end of the lower hall she saw, through an open 
 door, a number of elderly people sitting at long tables. To- 
 ward them she made her way. When she reached the door, 
 she stopped and peered curiously within. A murmur of aston- 
 ishment rose from the inmates when they caught sight of the 
 quaint object in the doorway, standing uncertainly, with her 
 shoes in one hand, the awkwardly tied bundle in the other, 
 and garbed in the chaotic attire so hastily procured for her in 
 Cartagena. 
 
 A Sister came quickly forward and, taking the girl's hand, 
 led her into a smaller adjoining room, where sat the Sister 
 Superior at breakfast. The latter greeted the child gently and 
 bade her be seated at the table. Carmen dropped into a chair 
 and sat staring in naive wonder. 
 
 "Well," began the Sister at length, "eat your breakfast 
 quickly. This is Sunday, you know, and Mass will be said in 
 the chapel in half an hour. You look frightened. I don't 
 wonder. But you are with friends here, little girl. What is 
 your name?" 
 
 Carmen quickly recovered her spirits, and her nimble 
 tongue its wonted flexibility. Without further invitation or 
 preface she entered at once upon a lively description of her 
 wonderful journey through the jungle, the subsequent ocean 
 voyage, and the mishap at the pier, and concluded with the 
 cryptical remark: "And, you know, Seriora, it is all just as 
 Padre Jose said, only a series of states of consciousness, after 
 all!" 
 
 The Sister stared blankly at the beaming child. What man- 
 ner of being was this that had been so strangely wafted into 
 these sacred precincts on the night breeze! The abandoned 
 woman who had brought her there, the Sister remembered, 
 had dropped an equally cryptical remark — "She's chock full of 
 religion." 
 
 But gratitude quickly mastered her wonder, and the woman, 
 
 18 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 pondering the child's dramatic recital, murmured a sincere, 
 "The Virgin be praised!" 
 
 "Oh," said Carmen, looking up quickly as she caught the 
 words, "you people up here talk just like those in Simiti. But 
 Padre Jose said you didn't know, either. You ought to, though, 
 for you have had so many more ad^advantages than we have. 
 Seiiora, there are many big, clumsy words in the English lan- 
 guage, aren't there? But I love it just the same. So did Padre 
 Jose. We used to speak it all the time during the last years 
 we were together. He said it seemed easier to talk about God 
 in that language than in any other. Do you find it so, 
 Seiiora?" 
 
 "What do you mean, child?" asked the puzzled Sister. 
 "And who is this Jose that you talk so much about?" 
 
 "He — taught me — ^in Simiti. He is the priest there." 
 
 "Well," replied the Sister warmly, "he seems to have taught 
 you queer things!" 
 
 "Oh, no!" returned Carmen quickly, "he just taught me 
 the truth. He didn't tell me about the queer things in the 
 world, for he said they were not real." 
 
 Again the Sister stared at the girl in dumb amazement. 
 But the child's thought had strayed to other topics. "Isn't it 
 cold up here!" she exclaimed, shivering and drawing her dress 
 about her. "I guess I'll have to put on these shoes to keep 
 my feet warm." 
 
 "Certainly, child, put them on!" exclaimed the .Sister. 
 "Didn't you wear shoes in your country?" 
 
 "No," replied Carmen, tugging and straining at the shoes; 
 "I didn't wear much of anything, it was so warm. Oh, it is 
 beautiful down there, Seiiora, so beautiful and warm in Simiti!" 
 She sighed, and her eyes filled with tears. But she brushed 
 them away and smiled bravely up at the Sister. "I've come 
 here becau-se it is right," she said with a firm nod of her head. 
 "Padre Jose said I had a message for you. He said you didn't 
 know much about God up here. Why, I don't know much of 
 anything else!" She laughed a happy little laugh as she said 
 this. Then she went on briskly: 
 
 "You know, Seiiora, Padre Jose isn't really a priest. But 
 he said he had to stay in the Church in order to teach me. I 
 never could understand why. I am sure he just thought wrong 
 about it. But, anyway, he will not have to be a priest any 
 more, now that I have gone, will, he? You know, Don Jorge 
 said priests were a bad lot; but that isn't so, for there are many 
 good priests, aren't there? Yes, there are. Only, they don't 
 understand, either. Why, Seiiora," she exclaimed, suddenly 
 remembering the Sister's previous injunction, "is this a church? 
 You said there would be Mass in the chapel — " 
 
 19 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "No," replied the Sister, still studying the girl attentively, 
 while her manner became more severe; "this is a hame for old 
 people, a charitable institution." 
 
 "Oh," replied Carmen, with a very vague idea of what that 
 meant. "Well," her face alight and her eyes dancing, "I don't 
 belong here then, do I ? I am never going to be old," she medi- 
 tated. "Why, God never grows old ! And we are His children, 
 you know. The Bible says we are made in His image and like- 
 ness. Well, if that is so, how can we ever grow old? Just think 
 of God hobbling around in heaven with a cane and saying: 
 'Well, I'm getting old now! I'll soon be dying!' Isn't that 
 awful! We wouldn't grow old and die if it wasn't for our 
 wrong way of thinking, would we? When we think His 
 thoughts, why, we will be like Him. But not until then. Padre 
 Jos6 says this, and he knows it is true — only, he seems to have 
 a hard time proving it. But, Seiiora, we have all got to prove 
 it, some time, every one of us. And then there will no.t be any 
 places like this for old people — ^people who still believe that 
 two and two are seven, you know. And that's my message." 
 
 The woman looked at her blankly; but the girl rambled on. 
 "Padre Jose sometimes talked of the charitable institutions out 
 in the world, and he always said that charity was a crime 
 against the people. And he was right, for that is just the way 
 Jesus looked at it, isn't it? Jesus did not give money to beg- 
 gars, but he did better, he healed them of the bad state of mind 
 that was making them poor and sick. Why don't the priests 
 do that? Can you heal the sick? Jesus, when he taught, first 
 said a thing, and then he turned right around and proved it. 
 Now do you do that? I try to. I've tried it all my life. And, 
 why, Seiiora, I've had thousands of proofs!" 
 
 The Sister did not reply; and Carmen, stealing a covert 
 glance at her, continued: 
 
 "You know, Senora, it is just as wicked to be sick and poor 
 as it is to tell a lie, because being sick and poor is just the ex — 
 the ex-ter-nal-i-zation of our thought; and such thought is not 
 from God; and so to hold such thoughts and to believe them 
 real is to believe in power apart from God, It is having other 
 gods than the one God; and that is breaking the very first 
 Commandment, isn't it? Yes, it is; and you can prove it, just 
 as you can prove the principles in mathematics. Senora, do 
 you know anything about mathematics?" 
 
 The astonished woman made an involuntary sign of nega- 
 tion. 
 
 "Oh, Senora," cried the enthusiastic girl, "the things that 
 Jesus taught can be proved just as easily as we prove the rules 
 in mathematics! Why not? for they are truth, and all truth 
 
 20 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 can be demonstrated, you know. You know, Seiiora, God is 
 everywhere — not only in heaven, but right here where we are. 
 Heaven, Padre Jose used to say so often, is only a perfect state 
 of mind; and so it is, isn't it? God, you know, is mind. And 
 when we reflect Him perfectly, why, we will be in heaven. 
 Isn't it simple? But," she went on after catching her breath, 
 "we can't reflect Him as long as we believe evil to be real and 
 powerful. Evil isn't anything. It is just zero, nothing — " 
 
 "I've heard that before," interrupted the woman, recover- 
 ing somewhat from her surprise. "But I think that before you 
 get out of New York you will reverse that idea. There's a 
 pretty fair amount of evil here, and it is quite real, we find." 
 
 "But it isn't!" cried Carmen. "If it is real, then God made 
 it. It seems real to you — but that is only because you give it 
 reality in your consciousness. You believe it real, and so it 
 becomes to you." 
 
 "Well," said the woman dryly, "on that basis I think the 
 same may be said of good, too." 
 
 "No," answered Carmen eagerly, "good is — " 
 
 "There," interrupted the Sister coldly, holding up an ad- 
 monitory hand, "we are not going to discuss the foolish theo- 
 logical notions which that fallen priest put into your poor little 
 head. Finish your breakfast." 
 
 The child looked at the woman in mute protest. Jose a 
 fallen priest! Would these people up here so regard him? It 
 was a new thought, and one that she would not accept. 
 
 "Sefiora," she began again, after a brief interval, "Padre 
 Jose is a good" man, even the human Padre Jose. And he is 
 trying to solve his problem and know God. And he is trying 
 to know himself, not as other people think they know him, but 
 as God knows him, and as I have always tried to know him. 
 You have no right to judge him — and, anyway, you are not 
 judging him, but only your wrong idea of him. And that," she 
 said softly, "is nothing." 
 
 The Sister did not answer. She was beginning to feel the 
 spell of those great brown eyes, that soft, rich voice, and the 
 sparkling expression of innocence, purity, and calm assurance 
 that bubbled from those red lips. And she was losing her- 
 self in contemplation of the girl's luxuriant beauty, whose rich 
 profusion her strange, foreign attire could not disguise. 
 
 "Sefiora," said Carmen suddenly, "the people on the boat 
 laughed at my clothes. But I don't think them half as funny 
 as that great black bonnet you ate wearing. Why do you 
 wear it? I never saw one until I was brought here." 
 
 It was said innocently, and with no thought of offense. But 
 the woman instantly roused from her meditation and assumed 
 
 21 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 an attitude of severe dignity. "Finish your breakfast," she 
 commanded sharply. "And remember after this that children's 
 manners here are not those of your country." 
 
 The girl fell quiet under the rebuke, and the meal ended in 
 silence. As they were rising from the table a cheery voice 
 came from the outer room, and presently a priest looked in. 
 
 "Good morning. Sister," he cried heartily. "Well, who's 
 this?" as his eyes fell upon Carmen. He was a young man, ap- 
 parently still in the twenties, of athletic build, inclined rather 
 to stoutness, and with a round, shining face that radiated health 
 and good nature. 
 
 The Sister quietly returned his cordial greeting. "It is a 
 little waif," she said in answer to his query, "who strayed in 
 here last night." 
 
 "Aha," said the priest, "another derelict! And will you 
 send her to the orphanage?" 
 
 "I'm afraid if I do the little heretic will corrupt all the 
 other children," replied the Sister. "Father," she continued 
 seriously, "I want you to examine this child, and then tell me 
 what you think should be done with her." 
 
 "What is it — ^health?" asked the priest, studying the girl. 
 
 "No," replied the Sister; "but another priest has gone 
 wrong, and this," pointing to Carmen, "is the result of his 
 pernicious teachings." 
 
 The priest did not reply for some moments. Then he 
 sighed wearily. "Very well. Sister," he said in a low voice. 
 "I will talk with her after the service." He seemed suddenly to 
 have lost his cheerfulness, as he continued to converse with the 
 woman on matters pertaining to the institution. 
 
 Carmen, wondering and receptive, took the place assigned 
 to her in the chapel and sat quietly through the service. She 
 had often seen Jos6 celebrate Mass in the rude little church in 
 Simiti, but with no such elaboration as she witnessed here. 
 Once or twice she joined in the responses, not with any thought 
 of worship, but rather to give vent, even if slight, to the im- 
 pelling desire to hear her own musical voice. She thought as 
 she did so that the priest looked in her direction. She thought 
 others looked at her attentively at the same time. But they 
 had all stared at her, for that matter, and she had felt confused 
 and embarrassed under their searching scrutiny. Yet the old 
 people attracted her peculiarly. Never had she seen so many 
 at one time. And never, she thought, had she seen such phys- 
 ical decrepitude and helplessness. And then she fell to won- 
 dering what they were all there for, and what they got out of 
 the service. Did the Mass mean anything to them? Did they 
 believe that thereby their sins were atoned? Did they believe 
 
 22 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 that that priest was really changing the wafer and ^ine into 
 flesh and blood? She recalled much that Jose had told her about 
 the people up in the States. They were not so different, men- 
 tally, from her own, after all. 
 
 The Host had been elevated. The people, still gossiping 
 cheerfully, had prostrated themselves before it. The sermon 
 had been short, for the old people waxed impatient at long 
 discourses. Then the priest descended from the pulpit and 
 came to Carmen. "Now, little girl," he said, seating himself 
 beside her, "tell me all about yourself, who you are, where 
 you come from, and what you have been taught. And do not 
 be afraid. I am your friend." Carmen smiled up at him; then 
 plunged into her narrative. 
 
 It was two hours later when the Sister Superior looked in 
 and saw the priest and girl still sitting in earnest conversation. 
 She stood listening. "But," she heard the priest say, "you tell 
 me that this Father Jose taught you these things?" 
 
 "He taught me English, and French, and German. He 
 taught me mathematics. And he taught me all I know of 
 history, and of the world," the girl replied. 
 
 "Yes, yes," the priest went on hurriedly; "but these other 
 things, these religious 'and philosophical notions, who taught 
 you these?" 
 
 The Sister drew closer and strained her ears to hear. 
 
 The girl looked down as she answered softly, "God." 
 
 The priest's head sank upon his breast. He reached out 
 and laid a hand on hers. "I believe you," he said, in a voice 
 scarcely audible. "I believe you — for we do not teach such 
 things." 
 
 The girl looked up with luminous eyes. "Then," she said 
 quizzically, "you are not really a priest." 
 
 "Father Waite!" The Sister's voice rang sternly through 
 the quiet chapel. The priest started to his feet in confusion. 
 "The dinner-bell will ring in a few minutes," continued the 
 Sister, regarding the man severely. 
 
 "Ah, true," he murmured, hastily glancing at the clock. 
 "The time passed so rapidly — a — a — this girl — " 
 
 "Leave the girl to me," replied the Sister coldly. "Unless," 
 she added, "you consider her deranged. Coming from that hot 
 country suddenly into this cold climate might — " 
 
 "No, no," interrupted the priest hastily; "she seems uncom- 
 monly strong mentally. She has some notions that are a — 
 somewhat different from ours — that is — ^but I will come and 
 have a further talk with her." 
 
 He raised his hand in silent benediction, while the Sister 
 bowed her head stiffly. Then, as if loath to take his eyes from 
 the girl, he turned and went slowly out. 
 
 23 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Come," said the woman sharply. Carmen followed her 
 out into the hall and down a flight of steps to the kitchen below. 
 
 "Katherine," said the Sister Superior, addressing an elderly, 
 white-haired Sister who seemed to be in charge of the culinary 
 department, "put this girl to work. Let her eat with you and 
 sleep in your room. And see if you can't work some of the 
 foolish notions out of her head." 
 
 CHAPTER 3 
 
 "/'^ET some o' th' foolish notions out of your head, is it? 
 Itt Och, puir bairn, wid yer swate face an' that hivenly 
 ^■'^ hair, it's welcome ye air to yer notions! But, hist! Ye 
 have talked too brash to the Sister Superior. Ye air that inno- 
 cent, puir thing! But, mind your tongue, honey. Tell your 
 funny notions to old Katie, an' they'll be safe as the soul of 
 Saint Patrick; but keep mum before the others, honey." 
 
 "But, Senora, don't they want to know the truth up here?" 
 There was a note of appeal in the quavering voice. 
 
 "Now listen, honey; don't call mB sich heathen names. 
 Call me Sister. I'm no Seiiora, whativer that may be. And as 
 for wantin' to know the truth, God bless ye, honey! th' good 
 Fathers know it all now." 
 
 "They don't, Sefi— Sister!" 
 
 "Well, thin, they don't — an' mebby I'm not so far from 
 agreein' wid ye. But, och, it's dead beat I am, after the Sun- 
 day's work! But ye air a right smart little helper, honey — 
 only, ye don't belong in th' kitchen." 
 
 "Seii — I mean. Sister — " 
 
 "That's better, honey; ye'll get it in time." 
 
 "Sister, I've just got to find Mr. Reed! Do you know him?" 
 
 "No, honey, it's few I know outside these walls. But ye 
 can put up a bit of a prayer when ye turn in to-night. An' 
 we'd best be makin' for th' bed, too, darlin', for we've a hard 
 day's work to-morrow." 
 
 It was Carmen's second night in New York, and as the girl 
 silently followed the puffing old woman up the several long, 
 dark flights of stairs to the little, cheerless room under the 
 eaves, it seemed to her that her brain must fly apart with the 
 pressure of its mental accumulation. The great building in 
 which she was now sheltered, the kitchen, with its marvels 
 of equipment, gas stoves, electric lights, annunciators, and a 
 thousand other equally wonderful appliances which the human 
 mind has developed for its service and comfort, held her fasci- 
 
 24 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 nated, despite her situation, while she swelled with questions 
 she dared not ask. Notwithstanding the anxiety which she had 
 not wholly suppressed, her curiosity, naive, eager, and insatia- 
 ble, rose mountain high. Sister Katherine had been kind to 
 her, had received her with open arms, and given her light tasks 
 to perform. And many times during the long afternoon the 
 old woman had relaxed entirely from her assumed brusque- 
 ness and stooped to lay a large, red hand gently upon the 
 brown curls, or to imprint a resounding kiss upon the flushed 
 cheek. Now, as night was settling down over the great, roar- 
 ing city, the woman took the homeless waif into her big heart 
 and wrapped her in a love that, roughly expressed, was yet 
 none the less tender and sincere. 
 
 "Ye can ask the Virgin, honey, to send ye to yer frinds," 
 said the woman, as they sat in the gloaming before the window 
 and looked out over the kindling lights of the city. 
 
 "What good would that do. Sister?" 
 
 "Not much, I guess, honey," answered the woman frankly. 
 "Troth, an' I've asked her fer iverything in my time, from 
 diamonds to a husband, an' she landed me in a convint! But 
 I ain't complainin'." 
 
 "You didn't ask in the right way. Sister — " 
 
 "Faith, I asked in ivery way I knew how! An' whin I had 
 th' carbuncle on me neck I yelled at her! Sure she may have 
 answered me prayer, fer th' whoop I gave busted the carbuncle, 
 an' I got well. Ye nivir kin tell, honey. An' so I ain't com- 
 plainin'." 
 
 "But, Sis — I can't call you Sister!" pleaded the girl, going 
 to the woman and twining her arms about her neck. 
 
 "Och, honey darlin' " — tears started from the old woman's 
 eyes and rolled down her wrinkled cheeks — "honey darlin', 
 call me Katie, just old Katie. Och, Holy Virgin, if I could have 
 had a home, an' a beautiful daughter like you — !" She clasped 
 the girl in her great arms and held her tightly. 
 
 "Katie, when you pray you must pray knowing that God 
 has already given you what you need, and that there is noth- 
 ing that can keep you from seeing it." 
 
 The woman wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "An' so, darlin', 
 if I want diamonds I must know that I have 'em, is it that, 
 honey?" 
 
 "Yon dear thing!" murmured Carmen, drawing closer, and 
 laying her soft cheek against the leathery visage of the old 
 woman. 
 
 "Say that again, honey — och, say it again! It's words, 
 darlin', that's nivir been said to old Katie!" 
 
 "Why, hasn't any one ever been kind to you?" 
 
 25 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Kind! Och, ivirybody's kind to me, honey! But nobody 
 has ivir loved me — that way. The good Lord made me a 
 fright, honey — ain't ye noticed? I've a face like an owl. An' 
 they told me from th' cradle up I'd nivir land a man. An' I 
 didn't, honey; they all ran from me — an' so I become a bride 
 o' th' Church. But I ain't complainin'." 
 
 "But, Katie, the face is nothing. Why, your heart is as 
 big — as big as the whole world ! I hadn't been with you an 
 hour before I knew that. And, Katie dear, I love you." 
 
 "Och, darlin'," murmured the woman, "sure th' Virgin be 
 praised fer sendin' ye to me, a lonely old woman!" 
 
 "It was not the Virgin, Katie, but God who brought me 
 here," said the girl gently, as she caressed the old Sister's 
 cheek. 
 
 "It's all one, honey; the Virgin's th' Mother o' God." 
 
 "Why, Katie! You don't know what you are saying!" 
 
 "Troth, child, she has th' same power as God ! Don't we 
 pray to her, an' she prays to th' good God to save us? Don't 
 she have influence with Him?" 
 
 "No, Katie, no. There is no person or thing that persuades 
 God to be good to His children. There is nothing that inflU' 
 ences Him. He is infinite — infinite mind, Katie, and infinite 
 good. Oh, Katie, what awful things are taught in this world 
 as truth ! How little we know of the great God ! And yet how 
 much people pretend they know about Him ! But if they only 
 knew — really knew, as Jesus did — ^why, Katie, there wouldn't 
 be an old person, or a sick or unhappy one in the whole world ! 
 Katie," after a little pause, "I know. And I'm going to tell 
 them." 
 
 The old Sister drew the child closer. "Air these more o' 
 yer funny notions, darlin'?" 
 
 "I suppose, they are what- the world thinks funny, Katie," 
 answered the girl. 
 
 "An' I don't wonder! We are not taught such things, 
 honey. But then, th' world moves, girlie — even old Katie sees 
 that. Only, the Church don't move with it. An' old Katie can 
 see that, too. An' so, I'm thinkin', does Father Waite." 
 
 "I know he does, Katie." 
 
 "Faith, an' how do ye know it, child?" 
 
 "He talked with me — a long time, this morning. He said 
 God had taught me what I know." 
 
 "Aye, is it so? Thin me own suspicions air right; he's out 
 o' tune! Did ye say, girlie dear, that he didn't scold ye fer 
 yer funny notions?" 
 
 "No, Katie, he said they were right." 
 
 "Did he so! Thin, lassie dear, things is goin' to happen. 
 
 26 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 An' he's a good man — troth, they make no better in this 
 ■world!" 
 
 The old Sister lapsed into thought. Carmen looked out 
 "wonderingly over the city. She yearned to know what it held 
 for her. 
 
 "Katie," she said at length, bending again over the woman, 
 "will you help me find Mr. Reed?" 
 
 "Och, lassie — what's your name again?" 
 
 "Carmen," replied the girl, "Carmen Ariza." 
 
 "Cair-men Aree — now ain't that a name fer ye! An' yer 
 nationality, girl?" 
 
 "I'm a Colombian, Katie." 
 
 "Whist! Where is it? In Afrikay?" 
 
 "South America," with a little sigh. 
 
 "Now think o' that! An' I'm Scotch-Irish, honey; an' we're 
 both a long way from th' ol' sod! Lassie dear, tell me about 
 last night. But, no; begin 'way back. Give us th' whole tale. 
 Old Katie's weak in th' head, girlie, but she may see a way out 
 fer ye. Th' Virgin help ye, puir bairn!" 
 
 Midnight boomed from the bell in a neighboring tower 
 when Carmen finished her story. 
 
 "Be the Saints above!" exclaimed the old Sister, staring at 
 the girl in amazement. "Now do ye let me feel of ye to see 
 that ye air human; fer only a Saint could go through all that 
 an' live to tell it! An' the place ye were in last night! Now 
 be Saint Patrick, if I was rich I'd have Masses said every day 
 fer that Jude who brung ye here ! Don't tell me th' good Lord 
 won't forgive her! Och, God! she's a Saint already." 
 
 "She's a good woman, Katie; and, somehow, I felt sorry 
 for her, but I don't know why. She has a beautiful home in 
 that hotel—" 
 
 "Hotel, is it! Hivins above! But — och, sure, it was a 
 hotel, honey. Only, ye air better off here wi' old Katie." 
 
 "And now you will help me?" 
 
 "Help you, lassie! God bless ye, yes! But — unless it's wi' 
 Father Waite, I don't know what I can do. Ye air in bad with 
 th' Sister Superior fer yer talk at th' breakfast table. Ye're a 
 fresh little heathen, honey. An' she's suspicious of Father 
 Waite, too. We all air. An' he th' best man on airth ! But 
 his doctrine ain't just sound, swateheart. Hivins, doctrine! It 
 means more'n a good heart! There, honey, lave it to me. But 
 it's got to be done quick, or th' Sister Superior '11 have ye in 
 an orphan asylum, where ye'll stay till ye air soused in th' 
 doctrine! I can manage to get word to Father Waite to- 
 morrow, airly. Jinny will run over fer me. A bit of a word 
 wi' him'U fix it, lassie dear. An' now, honey swate, off with 
 
 27 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 them funny clothes and plump into bed. Saints above! it's 
 all jDut marnin' now!" 
 
 A few minutes later the woman turned to the girl who lay 
 so quiet at her side. 
 
 "Honey," she whispered, "was ye tellin' me awhile back that 
 ye knew the right way to pray?" 
 
 "Yes, Katie dear," the child murmured. 
 
 "Thin do you pray, lass, an' I'll not trouble the Virgin this 
 night." 
 
 ****** 
 
 "Well, Father, what do you think now?" The Sister Supe- 
 rior looked up aggressively, as Father Waite slowly entered the 
 room. His head was bowed, and there was a look of deep 
 earnestness upon his face. 
 
 "I have talked with her again — an hour, or more," he said 
 reflectively. "She is a — a remarkable girl, in many ways." He 
 stopped, uncertain how to proceed. 
 
 The Sister eyed him keenly. "She attracts and repels me, 
 both," she said. "At times she seems positively uncanny. And 
 she appears to be suffering from religious dementia. Do you 
 not think so?" 
 
 It was a compromising question, and the priest weighed his 
 words carefully before replying. "She does — seem to — to have 
 rather — a — ^rather unusual — religious views," said he slowly. 
 
 "Would it not be well to have Dr. Sullivan examine her?" 
 
 "To what end?" 
 
 "That we may know what to do with her. If she is mentally 
 unsound she must not be sent to the orphanage." 
 
 "She should be taken — a — I mean, we should try to locate 
 her friends. I have already searched the city directory; but, 
 though there are many Reeds, there are none listed with the 
 initials she gave me as his. I had thought," he continued 
 hesitatingly, "I had thought of putting her in charge of the 
 Young Women's Christian Association — " 
 
 "Father Waite!" The Sister Superior rose and drew herself 
 up to her full height. "Do you mean to say that you have con- 
 templated delivering her into the hands of heretics?" she de- 
 manded coldly, her tall figure instinct with the mortal pride of 
 religious superiority. 
 
 "Why, Sister," returned the priest with embarrassment, 
 "would it not be wise to place her among those whose views 
 harmonize more closely with hers than ours do?" 
 
 "Father! I am surprised — !" 
 
 "But — she is not a Catholic !" urged the man, with a gesture 
 of impatience. "And she will never be one. The combined 
 weight of all the centuries of church authority could not make 
 
 28 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 her one — never! I must take her to those with whom she 
 rightfully belongs." 
 
 The Sister Superior's eyes narrowed and glittered, and her 
 face grew dark. "Never!" she said in a low tone. "I would 
 rather see her dead ! Father Waite, you exceed your authority ! 
 I am in charge here, and I shall report this case to the 
 Bishop!" 
 
 The priest stood hesitant for a moment. The futility of his 
 case seemed to impress him. Taking up his hat, he bowed 
 without speaking and went out. The Sister Superior stepped 
 to the telephone. Outside the door the man listened until he 
 caught the number she called. His face grew dark and angry, 
 and his hands clenched as he strode down the hall. 
 
 On the stairs that led up from the kitchen stood Sister 
 Katherine. 
 
 "Hist! Father!" 
 
 He stopped and turned to the woman. Her finger went up 
 to her lips. 
 
 "Wait on th' corner — behind the church! The lassie will 
 meet you there!" 
 
 Before he could reply the woman had plunged again into 
 the dark stairway. Stopping at a small closet below, she took 
 out a bundle. Then she hurried to the kitchen and summoned 
 Carmen, who was sitting at a table peeling potatoes. 
 
 "Troth, lazy lass," she commanded sharply, "do you take 
 the bucket and mop and begin on the front steps. And mind 
 that ye don't bring me heavy hand down on ye! Och, lassie 
 darlin'," she added, when she had drawn the startled girl out 
 of hearing of the others, "give yer old Katie a kiss, and then be 
 off! Troth, it breaks me heart to see ye go — but 'twould break 
 yours to stay! Go, lassie darlin', an' don't fergit old Katie! 
 Here," thrusting the girl's bundle and a dollar bill into her 
 hands, "an' God bless ye, lass! Ye've won me, heart an' soul! 
 Ye'U find a frind at th' nixt corner!" pointing up the street. She 
 strained the girl again to her breast, then opened the door and 
 hastily thrust her out into the street. 
 
 For a moment Carmen stood dazed by the suddenness of it 
 all. She looked up confusedly at the great, yellow building 
 from which she had been ejected. There was no visible sign 
 of life. Then, grasping her bundle and the dollar bill, she 
 hurried out through the gate and started up the street. 
 
 Around the corner stood Father Waite. The man's face 
 was furrowed, and his body trembled. The girl went up to 
 him with a glad smile. The priest looked up, and muttered 
 something incoherent under his breath as he took her hand. 
 
 "Where are we going. Padre?" she asked. 
 
 M 29 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 He drew some loose change from his pocket, and hailed an 
 approaching street car. 
 
 "To police headquarters," he replied, "to ask them to help 
 us find your friends." 
 
 CHAPTER 4 
 
 FROM the mysterious wastes which lie far out on the 
 ocean, the fog was again creeping stealthily across the 
 bay and into the throbbing arteries of the great city. 
 Through half-opened doors and windows it rolled like smoke, 
 and piled like drifted snow against the mountains of brick and 
 stone. Caught for a moment on a transient breeze, it swirled 
 around a towering pile on lower Broadway, and eddied up to 
 the windows of the Ketchim Realty Company, where it sifted 
 through the chinks in the loose frames and settled like a pall 
 over the dingy rooms within. 
 
 To Philip O. Ketchim, junior member of the firm, it 
 seemed a fitting external expression of the heavy gloom within 
 his soul. Crumpled into the chair at the broad table in his 
 private office, with his long, thin legs stretched out before him, 
 his hands crammed into the pockets of his trousers, and his 
 bullet-shaped head sunk on his fiat chest, until it seemed as if 
 the hooked nose which graced his hawk-like visage must be 
 penetrating his breast-bone, the man was the embodiment of 
 utter dejection. On the littered table, where he had just 
 tossed it, lay the report of Reed and Harris on the pseudo- 
 mineral properties of the Molino Company — the "near-mines" 
 in the rocky canon of the far-off Boque. Near it lay the cur- 
 rent number of a Presbyterian review, wherein the merits of 
 this now moribund project were advertised in terms whose 
 glitter had attracted swarms of eager, trusting investors. 
 
 The firm name of Ketchim Realty Company was some- 
 thing of a misnomer. The company itself was an experiment, 
 whose end had not justified its inception. It had been launched 
 a few years previously by Douglass Ketchim to provide business 
 careers for his two sons, James and Philip. The old gentleman, 
 still hale and vigorous, was one of those sturdy Englishmen 
 who had caught the infection of '49 and abruptly severed the 
 ties which bound them to their Kentish homes for the allure- 
 ments of the newly discovered El 'Dorado of western America. 
 Across the death-haunted Isthmus of Panama and up the in- 
 hospitable Pacific coast the indomitable spirit of the young ad- 
 venturer drove him, until he reached the golden sands of 
 California. There he toiled for many years, until Fortune at 
 
 30 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 length smiled upon his quenchless efforts. Then he tossed aside 
 his rough tools and set out for the less constricted fields of the 
 East. 
 
 He invested his money wisely, and in the course of years 
 turned it several times. He became a banker. He aspired to 
 the hand of a sister of a railway president, and won it. He 
 educated his sons in the best colleges of the East, and then 
 sent them to Europe on their honeymoons. And finally, when 
 the burden of years began to press noticeably, and the game 
 became less attractive, he retired from the field of business, 
 cleared off his indebtedness, organized the Ketchim Realty 
 Company, put its affairs on the best possible basis, and then 
 committed the unpardonable folly of turning it over to the 
 unrestricted management of his two sons. 
 
 The result was chaos. At the expiration of a year the old 
 gentleman hurried back into the harness to save the remnant 
 of his fortune, only to find it inextricably tied up in lands of 
 dubious value and questionable promotional schemes. The 
 untangling of the real estate he immediately took into his own 
 hands. The schemes he left to his sons. 
 
 A word in passing regarding these sons, for they typify a 
 form of parasitical growth, of the fungus variety, which in 
 these days has battened and waxed noxious on the great stalk 
 of legitimate commercial enterprise. They were as dissimilar, 
 and each as unlike his father, as is possible among members of 
 the same family. Both sought, with diligent consecration, the 
 same goal, money; but employed wholly different means to gain 
 that end. James, the elder, was a man of ready wit, a nimble 
 tongue, and a manner which, on occasions when he could think 
 of any one but himself, was affable and gracious. He was a 
 scoffer of religion, an open foe of business scruple, and the 
 avowed champion of every sort of artifice and device employed 
 in ancient, mediaeval, or modern finance to further his own 
 selfish desires, in the minimum of time, and at whatever cost 
 to his fellow-man. In his cups he was a witty, though arrogant, 
 braggart. In his home he was petulant and childish. Of real 
 busin.ess acumen and constructive wisdom, he had none. He 
 would hew his way to wealth, if need be, openly defiant of 
 God, man, or the devil. Or he would work in subtler ways, 
 through deceit, jugglery, or veiled bribe. But he generally 
 wore his heart on his sleeve; and those who perforce had busi- 
 ness relations with him soon discovered that, though utterly 
 unscrupulous, his character was continuously revealed through 
 his small conceit, which caused him so to work as to be seen of 
 men and gain their cheap plaujiits for his sharp, mendacious 
 practices. 
 
 31 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Philip retained a degree of his father's confidence — wliich 
 James wholly lacked — and he spared himself no pains to cul- 
 tivate it. Though far less ready of wit than his stubby, bom- 
 bastic brother, he was a tenacious plodder, and was for this 
 reason much more likely ultimately to achieve his sordid pur- 
 poses. His energy was tireless, and he never admitted defeat. 
 He never worked openly; he never appeared to have a decided 
 line of conduct; and no one could ever say what particular 
 course he intended to pursue. Apparently, he was a man of 
 exemplary habits; and his mild boast that he knew not the 
 taste of tobacco or liquor could not be refuted. He was an 
 elder in the Presbyterian church in the little suburb where he 
 lived, and superintendent of its Sunday school. His prayers 
 were beautiful expressions of reverent piety; and his conver- 
 sation, at all times chaste and modest, announced him a man 
 of more than ordinary purity of thought and motive. While 
 it is true that no one could recall any pious deed, any charitable 
 act, or any conduct based on motives of self-abnegation and 
 brotherly love performed by him, yet no one could ever point 
 to a single coarse or mean action emanating from the man. If 
 there was discord in company affairs, the wanton James always 
 bore the onus. And because of this, relations between the 
 brothers gradually assumed a condition of strain, until at 
 length James openly and angrily denounced Philip as a hypo- 
 crite, and refused longer to work with him. Thereupon the 
 milder Philip offered the other cheek and installed a mediator, 
 in the person of one Rawlins, a sickly, emaciated, bearded, but 
 loyal Hermes, who thenceforth performed the multifold func- 
 tions of pacificator, go-between, human telephone, and bearer 
 of messages, documents, and what-not from one to the other 
 for a nominal wage and the crumbs that dropped from the 
 promoter's table. 
 
 The fog and the gloom thickened, and Ketchim sat deeply 
 immersed in both. He was still shaking from the fright which 
 he had received that morning. On opening the door as he was 
 about to leave his house to take the train to the city, he had 
 confronted two bulky policemen. With a muffled shriek he had 
 slammed the door in their astonished faces and darted back into 
 the house, his heart in his throat and hammering madly. How 
 could he know that they were only selling tickets to a Police- 
 men's Ball? Then he had crept to the window and, concealed 
 in the folds of the curtain, had watched them go down the 
 street, laughing and turning often to glance back at the house 
 that held such a queer-mannered inmate. 
 
 Rousing himself from the gloomy revery into which he had 
 lapsed, Ketchim switched on the light and took up again the 
 
 32 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 report of Reed and Harris. Sullenly he turned its pages, while 
 the sallow skin on his low forehead wrinkled, and his bird-like 
 face drew into ugly contortions. 
 
 "Fools!" he muttered. "Didn't they see that clause in their 
 contract, providing an additional fifty thousand in stock for 
 them in case they made a favorable report?" 
 
 A light tap at the door, and a low cough, preceded the 
 noiseless entrance of the meek-souled Rawlins. "^^ 
 
 "A — a — this is the list which Reverend Jurges sent us — 
 names and addresses of his congregation. I've mailed them all 
 descriptive matter; and I wrote Mr. Jurges that the price of his 
 stock would be five dollars, but that we couldn't sell to his 
 congregation for less than seven. That's right, isn't it? I told 
 him Molino stock would go up to par next month. That's what 
 you said, I believe." 
 
 "How much stock did Jurges say he'd take?" demanded 
 Ketchim, without looking up. 
 
 "Why, he said he could only get together two thousand 
 dollars at present,- but that later he would have some endow- 
 ment insurance falling due — " 
 
 "How soon?" 
 
 "About a year, I think he said." 
 
 "Well, he ought to be able to borrow on that. Did you 
 write him so?" 
 
 "No— but I can." 
 
 "Do so — but only hint at it. And tell him to send his 
 check at once for the stock he has agreed to take." 
 
 "Why, he sent that some days ago. I thought you — " 
 
 "He did?" cried Ketchim, his interest now fully aroused. 
 "Well, where is it?" 
 
 "Er — your brother James received the letter, and I believe 
 he put the check in his pocket." 
 
 Ketchim gave vent to a snort of rage. "You tell James," he 
 cried, pounding the desk with his fist, "that as president and 
 treasurer of the Molino Company I demand that check!" 
 
 "Yes, sir— and— " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Mr. Cass 'phoned before you got down this morning. He 
 said the bank refused to extend the time on your note." 
 
 Ketchim sank back limply into his chair, and his face be- 
 came ashen. 
 
 "And here is the mail," pursued the gentle Hermes, handing 
 him a bundle of letters. 
 
 Ketchim roused himself with an effort. His eyes flashed 
 angrily. "Do you know whether James has been selling any 
 of his own Molino stock?" he asked. 
 
 33 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "I — I believe he has, sir — a little," 
 
 "Humph! And how much?" 
 
 "He sold some two hundred shares yesterday — I believe; to 
 a Miss Leveridge." 
 
 "Leveridge? Who's she? What did he get for it?" 
 
 "Why, the Leveridge children — grown men and women now 
 '—have just sold their farm down state; and Mr. James saw 
 the sale announced in the papers. So he got in touch with 
 Miss Alvina Leveridge. I believe he sent Houghton down there; 
 and he closed a deal. Mr, James got eight dollars a share, I 
 believe." 
 
 "You believe! You know, don't you?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," meekly. 
 
 Ketchim gulped down his wrath, and continued: 
 
 "How much did the Leveridges get for their farm? And 
 why didn't you inform me of the sale?" he demanded, fixing 
 the humble Rawlins with a cold eye. 
 
 "A — a — twenty-five thousand dollars, sir, I believe. And I 
 didn't see the notice until — " 
 
 "As usual, James saw it first! An excellent scout you are! 
 Twenty-five thousand dollars! How many acres?" 
 
 "A hundred and eighty, I believe." 
 
 Ketchim reflected. "James is still dickering with Miss 
 Leveridge, I suppose?" 
 
 "I believe so, sir." 
 
 "Nezlett got back last night, didn't he? Very well, call him 
 up and tell him to get ready to go at once to — wherever the 
 Leveridges live. And — I want to see him right away!" 
 
 He abruptly dismissed the factotum and turned to his mail. 
 As his glance fell upon the pile he gasped. Then he quickly 
 drew out a letter and tore it open. His thin lips moved rapidly 
 as his eyes roved over the paper. He laid the letter down and 
 looked wildly about. Then he took it up again and read aloud 
 the closing words: 
 
 " — and, having bought somewhat heavily of Molino stock, and helievlng 
 that your representations were made with intent to deceive, I shall, unless 
 Immediate reparation or satisfactory explanation is made, take such steps 
 as my counsel may advise. Yours, etc., - 
 
 "J. WILTON AMES." 
 
 Congealing with fear, Ketchim took his stock memorandum 
 from a drawer and consulted it, "He put in ten thousand, 
 cash," he murmured, closing the book and replacing it. "And 
 I always wondered why, for he doesn't go into things that he 
 can't control. There's where I was a fool ! He shouldn't have 
 been sold a dollar's worth! He knows we can't return the 
 money; and now he's tightening the screws! He has some- 
 thing up his sleeve; and we've fallen for it!" 
 
 34 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 He settled back in his chair and groaned aloud. "Why did 
 he buy? Did he think he'd reach Uncle Ted through us? By 
 Jove! that's it! For a year or more he's wanted to oust Uncle 
 from the C. & R., and now he thinks by threatening the family 
 with disgrace, and us fellows with the pen, he can do it ! What 
 fools we've been ! Oh, if I ever get out of this I'll steer clear of 
 these deals in the future!" It was his stock resolution, which 
 had never borne fruit. 
 
 The door opened slightly, and the noiseless Rawlins timidly 
 announced the arrival of Reed and Harris. 
 
 "Show them in at once!" cried Ketchim, jumping up and 
 hastily passing his hands over his hair and face. Then, ad- 
 vancing with a wan smile, he courteously greeted the callers. 
 
 "Well, fellows," he began, waving them to seats, "it looks a 
 little bad for Molino, doesn't it? I've just been reading your 
 report — although of course you told me over the 'phone yester- 
 day that there was no hope. But," he continued gravely, and 
 his face grew serious, "I'm glad, very glad, of one thing, and 
 that is that there are men in the world to-day who are above 
 temptation." 
 
 "Which means — ?" queried Harris. 
 
 "Why," continued Ketchim, smiling pallidly, "the little 
 joker that James inserted in the contract, about your getting 
 fifty thousand in the event of a favorable report. I told him it 
 didn't look well — ^but he said it would test you. He would be 
 fxinny, though, no matter how serious the business. But you 
 showed that you were men." 
 
 Harris snickered; but Reed turned the conversation at 
 once. "We have been studying how we could help you pull 
 the thing out of the fire. Suppose you give us," he suggested, 
 "a little of Molino's history. Then perhaps something may 
 occur to us." 
 
 "There isn't much to tell," replied Ketchim gloomily. "The 
 mines were located by a man named Lakes, at one time acting- 
 Consul at Cartagena. He is half Colombian, I believe. He came 
 up to New York and .interested Bryan, Westler, and some 
 others, and they asked us to act as fiscal agents." 
 
 "But you never had title to the property," said Reed. 
 
 "Certainly we have the title! Why do you say that?" 
 
 "Because, on our way down the Magdalena river we made 
 the acquaintance of a certain Captain Pinal, of the Colombian 
 army. When he learned that we were mining men he told us 
 he had a string of rich properties that he would like to sell. I 
 inquired their location, and he said they lay along the Boque 
 river. And I learned that he had clear title to the property, 
 too — Molino's mines. Now you have sold some three or four 
 
 35 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 hundred thousand dollars' worth of stock on alleged mines to 
 which you never had even the shadow of a claim!" 
 
 "But — " murmured Ketchim weakly, "we thought we had. 
 We acted in good faith — we took Mr. Lakes's word — and we 
 showed our confidence and sincerity by purchasing machinery 
 to operate — " 
 
 "Oh, the machinery went down there, all right!" ejaculated 
 Harris with a laugh. "I judge it was designed to manufacture 
 barrel staves, rather than to extract gold ! Lakes had it shipped 
 to Cartagena; rented part of an old woman's house; dumped 
 the machinery in there ; and now she's wild. Can't get her pay 
 from you for storing the machinery; and can't sell the stuff, 
 nor move it. So there she sits, under some six or eight tons of 
 iron junk, waiting for the Lord to perform a miracle!" 
 
 Ketchim smiled feebly. "It's too bad!" he murmured. "But 
 Molino has no funds — " 
 
 "You are still selling stock, aren't you?" demanded Reed. 
 
 "Oh, no!" quickly returned Ketchim. "We would not sell 
 any more stock until we received your report — and not then, 
 unless the report were favorable. That would not have been 
 right!" 
 
 Reed eyed him narrowly. But the image of truth sat en- 
 throned upon Ketchim's sharp features. 
 
 "It is unfortunate, boys," the promoter continued dejectedly. 
 "But I care nothing for my own losses; it's the poor stock- 
 holders I am thinking about. I would do anything to relieve 
 them. I've prayed to be led to do right. What would you 
 suggest?" 
 
 "I suggest," blurted out Harris, "that, having already re- 
 lieved them considerably, you'll soon be wearing a striped 
 suit!" 
 
 The last trace of color faded frouj Ketchim's face, but the 
 sickly smile remained. "I'd wear it, willingly, if by so doing 
 I could help these poor people," he mournfully replied. 
 
 "Well," pursued Harris, "it'll help some when they learn 
 that you're in one." 
 
 "Boys," said Ketchim suddenly, quite disregarding the in- 
 sinuation, "to-morrow is Sunday, and I want you both out to 
 dinner with me, and we will talk this all over. Then in the 
 afternoon I want you to come over and see my little Sunday 
 school. Fellows," he continued gravely, "I've prayed for you 
 and for your success every day since you left. And my faith 
 in my Saviour is too great to be shattered now by your adverse 
 report. He certainly will show us a way out; and I can trust 
 him and wait." 
 
 Reed and Harris looked at him and then at each other with 
 
 36 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 puzzled expressions on their faces. The man continued ear- 
 nestly : 
 
 "Colombia is a rich and undeveloped country, you have 
 said. There must be other mineral properties available there. 
 Did you see none on your travels? Or could we not organize 
 an exploration party to search for mines?" 
 
 "Who'd furnish the wherewithal?" asked Harris bluntly. 
 
 "Oh, that could be arranged." 
 
 "Will your sheep stand for further shearing?" queried the 
 grinning Harris. 
 
 "Fellows," said Ketchim, brightening and drawing his chair 
 closer, "you've got something — I know it! You've got some- 
 thing to suggest that will save the Molino stockholders!" 
 
 "But not yourself, eh?" taunted Harris. 
 
 "I shall sacrifice myself," answered Ketchim deprecatingly. 
 His manner had now become animated, and he leaned expect- 
 antly toward them. 
 
 Reed and Harris again looked questioningly at each other. 
 "I guess we might as well," said ReM in a low voice. "It is 
 bound to come out, anyway." 
 
 "Sure," returned Harris; "drive ahead," 
 
 "Mr. Ketchim," began Reed, turning to the eager, fidgeting 
 man, "when I came to New York a year ago, looking for a 
 business opening, my friend and former classmate in the Uni- 
 versity, Mr. Cass, put me in touch with you. At that time you 
 were booming the Molino company hard, and, I have no doubt, 
 thought you really had something down in Colombia. But 
 when you offered to lease me a portion of your properties there, 
 I laughed at you. And, in the course of time, I succeeded in 
 convincing you that you knew nothing whatsoever about the 
 properties on which you were selling so much stock. Then, 
 after months of parley, from an offer to permit me to go down 
 to Colombia at my own expense to examine Molino's mines, to 
 ascertain whether or not I wished to operate a part of them on 
 a royalty basis, you adopted my own view, namely, that the 
 time had come for you -to know whether the company pos- 
 sessed anything of value or not. And so you sent my asso- 
 ciate, Mr. Harris, and myself down there to examine and re- 
 port on Molino's so-called mines. And you gave us each a 
 block of stock as part compensation. We found the mines 
 barren. And now you have got to face a body of stockholders 
 from whom you have lured thousands of dollars by your mis- 
 representations. From talks with your salesmen, I am con- 
 vinced that this body of stockholders is made up chiefly of 
 widows and indigent clergymen." 
 
 "Which of my salesmen told you that?" interrupted Ketchim 
 heatedly. 
 
 37 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Let us waive that," replied Reed calmly. "The fact is, you 
 are in a hard way just at present, is it not so?" 
 
 "Fellows," said Ketchim, with an air of penitent humility, 
 "the officers and stockholders of the Molino Company have been 
 grossly deceived and unfortunately — " 
 
 "All right," interrupted Reed, "we'll pass that. But Harris 
 and I have played square with you. And we are going to con- 
 tinue to do so, and to offer you a possible opportunity to do 
 something for your poor stockholders, and incidentally for your- 
 self and us. The. fact is, we do know of another property 
 down there, but we haven't the title — " 
 
 "That makes no difference !" interrupted Ketchim. "I mean, 
 it can be acquired — " striving to restrain his eagerness. 
 
 "That's just the question," replied Reed. "The title is at 
 present vested in a young Colombian girl, who, unfortunately, 
 is lost. This girl came up to the States with us — " 
 
 "Ha!" exclaimed Ketchim, unable longer to hold himself. 
 "Then you broke your contract, for that stipulated that what- 
 ever you might acquire there should belong to me ! I engaged 
 your services, remember!" 
 
 "I believe," put in Harris dryly, "we were employed by the 
 Molino company." 
 
 "But my mother advanced the funds to send you down 
 there!" cried Ketchim. 
 
 "How about the poor stockholders?" queried Harris, with 
 an insinuating grin. 
 
 "I'm speaking for the stockholders, of course," said Ket- 
 chim, subsiding. "But, proceed, please." 
 
 "There is no likelihood that this poor girl will ever be heard 
 of again," continued Reed. "Nor is it likely that the title 
 papers, which she has with her, will be of any use to those into 
 whose hands she has fallen. Her old foster-father held the title 
 to this mine, but transferred it to the girl, stipulating, that she 
 and I should divide a large interest in the stock of a company 
 formed to develop and operate it. For my share, I agreed to 
 bring the young girl to the States and place her in a school, at 
 my own expense," He went on to relate the manner in which 
 Carmen had been lost, and then continued: "Of course, the 
 title to this mine is registered in Cartagena, and in the girl's 
 name, as the old man gave me power to have that change made. 
 But, now that she is gone, the property naturally reverts to 
 him." 
 
 "We will relocate it!" declared Ketchim impatiently, 
 
 "NOj that wouldn't be right to the old man," returned Reed. 
 "But, it might be that the property could now be secured from 
 him. He is old and penniless, and without any further interest 
 
 38 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 in life. It is a bare chance, but we might prevail upon him to 
 join us in the formation of a company to take over his mine. 
 La Libertad." 
 
 "Is that the name of it?" asked Ketchim, reaching for a 
 ■writing pad. "Spell it for me, please. And the name of the old 
 man." 
 
 Reed complied, and then continued: "Now, Mr. Ketchim, 
 we are living strictly up to the letter of our contract by giving 
 you this information. It would require not less than one 
 hundred thousand dollars, cash in hand, to acquire that mine, 
 develop it, make trails, and erect a stamp-mill. Mr. Harris and 
 I are in no condition financially to advance or secure such an 
 amount." 
 
 "It is barely possible," mused Harris, "that my father and 
 Uncle John could do something." 
 
 "We don't have to call upon them!" cried Ketchim. "Your 
 interest, Mr. Reed, in this mine already belongs to Molino, as 
 you were acting under contract with us — ■" 
 
 "I have covered that point, Mr. Ketchim," replied Reed 
 evenly. "But the time has come for us all to put our shoulders 
 to the wheel, act fairly with one another, help the Molino stock- 
 holders, and at the same time make good ourselves. Mr. Harris 
 and I have barely entered upon our business careers, and we 
 have come to New York to establish ourselves. This may afford 
 the opportunity. We know where this mine is — ^we know the 
 old man, and may be able to influence him. To forestall possi- 
 ble complications, we should begin negotiations with him at 
 once. But — remember — everything must be done in the name 
 of the company, not in your own name. And Mr. Harris and 
 I must personally negotiate with the old man, and receive a very 
 liberal compensation for our work." 
 
 "Certainly!" cried the excited Ketchim. "Goodness, fellows! 
 why didn't you tell me this yesterday over the 'phone, and save 
 me a night of torment? But I forgive you. Gracious! Raw- 
 lins," he said, addressing that individual, who had entered in 
 response to the buzzer, " 'phone Cass to come right over. And 
 tell Miss Honeywell to give you ten dollars for our lunch, and 
 charge it to Molino. It's company business. By Jove, fellows! 
 this is a happy day for me. Since the old man gave you a 
 share in the mine, Molino has property, after all!" 
 
 "Has it to get," amended Harris dubiously. 
 
 "Oh, we'll get it!" cried Ketchim, rubbing his hands glee- 
 fully. "But now while waiting for Cass, tell me more about 
 your trip. It is wonderful! And so romantic!" 
 
 In the midst of the ensuing recital, Cass was announced; 
 and Ketchim, after detailing to him the previous conversation, 
 
 39 
 
CARMEN h^lZK 
 
 launched into the project which had been developing in his own 
 mind while Reed had been describing his experiences in the 
 South. 
 
 "What we want is another organization, fellows," he said 
 in conclusion, "to take over the tottering Molino; purchase its 
 assets with stock; give Molino stockholders an opportunity to 
 get in on the ground floor,' and so on. We'll let Molino die in 
 the arms of a new company, eh?" 
 
 "But one with a somewhat wider scope," suggested Cass, 
 with an air of importance. "A sort of general development 
 company, to secure La Libertad, if possible ; prospect for other 
 mineral properties; and develop the resources of the country." 
 
 "Just so," assented Ketchim, with increasing enthusiasm. 
 "A company to go in for coffee, cotton — ^you say you saw wild 
 cotton, didn't you, fellows? Great! And cocoanuts, timber, 
 cattle — ^in fact, we'll get concessions from the Colombian Gov- 
 ernment, and we'll — " 
 
 "Just rip things wide open, eh?" finished Harris. 
 
 "That's it!" cried Ketchim radiantly. "Uncle Ted has in- 
 fluence at Washington, with the Pan American Union, and so 
 on — why, we can get anything we want! Ames and the bank 
 will both cool down — by Jove, this is great!" 
 
 "But Where's the cold and vulgar cash coming from to oil 
 the wheels?" put in the practical Harris. 
 
 "Oh, I can sell the stock," replied Ketchim. "Then, too, 
 there's the Molino stockholders ; why, I'll bet there's hardly one 
 that wouldn't be able to scrape up a few dollars more for the 
 new company! By the way, what'll we call it? Give us a name, 
 somebody." 
 
 "I'd call it the Salvation Company," drawled Harris, "as it 
 is likely to delay your trip to Sing Sing." 
 
 A general laugh, in which Ketchim joined heartily, followed 
 the remark. 
 
 "I suggest we call it the Simiti Development Company," 
 said Cass, after a moment's dignified reflection. 
 
 "Great!" cried Ketchim. "It has a prosperous ring! And 
 now its capitalization? We must make it big!" 
 
 "Hem!" returned Cass. "If these gentlemen can acquire 
 that mine, I think I would capitalize for, say, about thrpe 
 millions." He went to the desk and made some calculations. 
 "I assume," he continued somewhat pompously after a few 
 moments' figuring, "that you wish to retain me, and that I am 
 to take my compensation in stock?" 
 
 Ketchim quickly assented. He knew that Cass had correctly 
 concluded that in no other way was he likely to be reimbursed. 
 And, at best, it was only a hazard, a wild gamble. In fact, it 
 
 40 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 was a last desperate chance. Moreover, stock was always 
 available J while cash was a rare commodity. 
 
 "Suppose, then," continued the sapient young lawyer, "that 
 we capitalize for three millions ; set aside one million, five hun- 
 dred and one thousand as treasury stock, to be sold to raise 
 money for development purposes; transfer to the Ketchim Re- 
 alty Company one million, as compensation "for acting as fiscal 
 agents of the new company; transfer to these two gentlemen, as 
 part compensation for past and future services, the sum of four 
 hundred thousand in stock; give to the stockholders of the 
 Molino Company the sum of fifty-nine thousand in stock for 
 all the assets, machinery, good will, et cetera, of that company; 
 and to me, for services to be rendered, forty thousand dollars' 
 worth of the stock. All of us shall agree not to sell any of our 
 personal holdings of stock until the company shall be placed 
 upon a dividend-paying basis. And Mr. Reed, or Mr. Harris, or 
 both, will return to Colombia immediately to relocate the mine 
 and prepare for its development, while the Ketchim Realty 
 Company at once endeavor to sell the treasury stock." 
 
 Having delivered himself of this comprehensive plan, Cass 
 settled back in his chair and awaited remarks. 
 
 "Well," observed Ketchim at length, "that's all right — only, 
 I think we should be allowed to sell our personal stock if we 
 wish. Of course," with a deprecating wave of his hand, "there 
 isn't the slightest likelihood of our ever wanting to do that — 
 with a mine such as you have described, fellows. But — ^why 
 hedge us about?" 
 
 "Not one dollar's worth of your stock shall you be permitted 
 to sell!" cried Harris, bringing his fist down upon the desk. 
 
 "I suggest that we leave that for the Directors to decide 
 later," offered Cass, anxious to avoid discord. He was young, 
 scarcely out of the twenties, just married, just admitted to the 
 bar, and eager to get a toe-hold in the world of business. "And 
 now," he concluded, "if agreeable to you, I will put this 
 through at once, organize the company, and get the charter. 
 You gentlemen will return to Colombia as soon as Mr. Ketchim 
 can provide the necessary funds." 
 
 "Mr. Harris and I have formed an engineering partnership," 
 said Reed. "As such, we will handle the affairs of the new 
 company in Colombia. Mr. Harris will proceed to that country, 
 while I go to California to open a copper mine which we have 
 taken over there. In time I will relieve Mr. Harris in the South. 
 Now, Mr. Ketchim, what can you do?" 
 
 "I'll send Houghton and Nezlett out on the road to-morrow. 
 Rawlins has just told me of one prospect, a bully one! We 
 don't need to wait for the papers from Albany before going 
 
 41 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ahead. But we find it costs about forty-eight cents to sell a 
 dollar's worth of stock, and so some time will be needed to 
 raise enough to send Mr. Harris back to Colombia — unless," he 
 added, eying Harris furtively, "he will advance us the amount 
 of his own expenses—" 
 
 "Which he will not!" retorted Harris warmly. "I haven't 
 it, anyway. Nor has Reed. We're both broke." 
 
 , "There's a revolution on down there now," said Reed, "and 
 we'd better go easy for a while. Besides, Harris needs time to 
 study the language. But, are we all agreed on the terms? 
 Salary for Harris while in Colombia to be settled later, of 
 course." 
 
 "It's all satisfactory, I think," said Ketchim, smiling hap- 
 pily. "The details can be worked out anon — Molino stock- 
 holders' meeting, and so on." 
 
 "Then," said Reed, rising, "we will consider the new com- 
 pany launched, to take over the defunct Molino and to operate 
 on a comprehensive scale in Colombia, beginning with the 
 development of La Libertad, if we can secure it." 
 
 At that moment Rawlins opened the door and peered in. 
 "A gentleman to see Mr. Reed," he announced softly; "a priest, 
 I believe." 
 
 Harris sprang to his feet. The door swung open, and Father 
 Waite entered with Carmen. 
 
 With a glad cry the girl dropped her bundle and bounded 
 into the arms of the astonished Harris. Reed grasped the 
 priest's hand, and begged him to speak. Ketchim and the young 
 lawyer looked on in perplexity. 
 
 "I was unable to find your name in the city directory, Mr. 
 Reed," explained the priest, his face beaming with happiness. 
 "But at police headquarters I found that you had made in- 
 quiries, and that detectives were searching for the girl. I 
 learned that you, were living with your wife's sister, and that 
 you had no business address, having just come up from South 
 America. So I telephoned to your sister-in-law, and your wife 
 informed me that you had an appointment this morning at this 
 office. I therefore came directly here with the girl, who, as 
 you see, is safe and sound, but with an additional interesting 
 experience or two to add to the large fund she already pos- 
 sessed." He looked down at Carmen and smiled. "And now," 
 he concluded, laughing, as he prepared to depart, "I will not 
 ask for a receipt for the child, as I see I have several witnesses 
 to the fact that I have delivered her to the proper custodian." 
 He bowed and went to the door. 
 
 "Wait!" cried Reed, seizing him by the hand. "We want to 
 thank you ! We want to know you — " 
 
 42 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "I will give you my card," replied the priest. "And I would 
 be very happy, indeed, if some time again I might be permitted 
 to see and talk with the little girl." He handed his card to 
 Reed ; then nodded and smiled at Carmen and went out. 
 
 "By Jove!" sputtered Harris, pushing the girl aside and 
 making after him. But he was too late. The priest had al- 
 ready caught a descending elevator, and disappeared. Harris 
 returned to the bewildered group. "I guess that knocks the 
 Simiti Company sky-high," he exclaimed, "for here is the sole 
 owner of La Libertad!" 
 
 Ketchim collapsed into a chair, while Reed, saying that he 
 would keep his dinner engagement with Ketchim on the fol- 
 lowing day, picked up Carmen's precious bundle and, taking 
 her hand, left the room. "I am going home," he called back to 
 Harris; "and you be sure to come up to the house to-night. 
 We'll have to readjust our plans now." 
 
 CHAPTER 5 
 
 "T^EED," said Harris the following day, as they sat in the 
 VC dusty, creaking car that was conveying them to their 
 dinner appointment with Ketchim, "who is this Ames 
 that Ketchim referred to yesterday?" 
 
 The men were not alone, for Carmen accompanied them. 
 Reed was reluctantly bringing her at the urgent request re- 
 ceived from Ketchim over the telephone the previous evening. 
 But the girl, subdued by the rush of events since her precipita- 
 tion into the seething American world of materialism, sat apart 
 from them, gazing with rapt attention through the begrimed 
 window at the flying scenery, and trying to interpret it in the 
 light of her own tenacious views of life and the universe. If 
 the marvels of this new world into which she had been thrown 
 had failed to realize her expectations — if she saw in them, and 
 in the sense of life which they express, something less real, 
 less substantial, than do those who laud its grandeur and power 
 to charm — she gave no hint. She was still absorbing, sifting 
 and digesting the welter of impressions. She had been over- 
 powered, smothered by the innovation ; and she now found her 
 thoughts a tangled jumble, which she strove incessantly to 
 unravel and classify according to their content of reality, as 
 judged by her own standards. 
 
 "Why, Ames," replied Reed, turning a watchful eye upon 
 Carmen, "is a multimillionaire financier of New York-^surely 
 you have heard of him ! He and his clique practically own the 
 
 43 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 United States, and a large slice of Europe. For some reason 
 Ames bought a block of Molino stock. And now, I judge, Ket- 
 chim would give his chances on eternal life if he hadn't sold it 
 to him. And that's what's worrying me, too. For, since Ames 
 is heavily interested in Molino, what will he do to the new 
 company that absorbs it?" 
 
 "There isn't going to be any new company," asserted Har- 
 ris doggedly. 
 
 "There's got to be!" cried Reed. "Ketchim holds us strictly 
 to our contract. Our negotiations with old Rosendo were made 
 while in the employ of Molino. It wouldn't be so bad if we 
 had only Ketchim to deal with. We've got the goods on him 
 and could beat him. But here enters Ames, a man of unlimited 
 wealth and influence. If he wants La Libertad, he's going to 
 get it, you mark me! Where we fell down was in ever men- 
 tioning it to Ketchim. For if we don't come over now he will 
 lay the whole affair before Ames. He told me over the 'phone 
 last night that he was badly in debt — that Ames was pressing 
 him — that many of the Molino stockholders were making per- 
 tinent inquiries. Oh, he quite opened his heart! And yester- 
 day I saw on his desk a letter from Ames. I can imagine what 
 it contained. Ketchim would sacrifice us and everything else to 
 keep himself out of Ames's grip. We're in for it, I tell you! 
 And all because we were a bit too previous in believing that 
 the girl had disappeared for good." 
 
 "By Jove!" exclaimed Harris, "but doesn't it sound like a 
 fairy-tale, the way Carmen got back to us?" 
 
 "And here I am," continued Reed, with a gesture of vexa- 
 tion, "left with the girl on my hands, and with a very healthy 
 prospect of losing out all around. My wife said emphatically 
 last night that she wouldn't be bothered with Carmen." 
 
 "Well, she won't bother you. Send her away to school." 
 
 "Fine ! Good idea !" replied Reed sarcastically. "But do you 
 realize that that involves expense? I'm a comparatively poor 
 man, just getting a start in my profession, and with a young 
 and socially ambitious wife!" 
 
 "But--your wife — er, she's going to — to have money some 
 day, isn't she?" 
 
 "Very true. But the grim reaper has a little work to do 
 first. And on occasions like this he's always deucedly delib- 
 erate, you know. Meantime, we're skating close to the edge— 
 for New Yorkers." 
 
 "Well, we may be able to beat Ketchim. Now, my father 
 and Uncle John — " 
 
 "Oh, shoot your father and Uncle John!" snapped Reed 
 impatiently. 
 
 44 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The conductor opened the door and bawled a cryptical an- 
 nouncement. 
 
 "This is the place," said Reed, starting up and making for 
 the door. "And now you rake your thought for some way to 
 deal with Ketchim. And leave your father and Uncle John 
 entirely out of the conversation!" 
 
 Ketchim was just bowing out a caller as the young engineers 
 mounted the steps. "See that fellow!" he exclaimed, after 
 giving them a hearty welcome. "I just sold him a hundred 
 shares of Simiti stock, at five dollars a share — just half of par. 
 Beginning right on the jump, eh?" 
 
 "But — " protested Harris, as they entered the spacious 
 parlor, "the company isn't even in existence yet — and hasn't 
 an asset!" 
 
 "Oh, that's all right," replied Ketchim easily. "It's coming 
 into existence, and will have the grandest mine in South Amer- 
 ica ! Boys," he went on earnestly, "I've been talking over the 
 'phone with Mr. Ames, our most influential stockholder, and a 
 very warm friend of mine. I told him about our conversation 
 of yesterday. He says, go right ahead with the new company — 
 that it's a great idea. He's satisfied with his present holding, 
 and will not increase it. Says he wants Molino stockholders to 
 have the opportunity to purchase all the treasury stock, if they 
 want to." 
 
 "Decidedly magnanimous," returned Reed. "But — what 
 about the basis of organization of the new company?" 
 
 "Leave it as we planned it, he says. He thinks the arrange- 
 ment and division of stock fine!" 
 
 Reed and Harris looked at each other questioningly. It did 
 not seem possible. 
 
 "But," went on Ketchim, "have you seen the morning 
 papers? They are full of the revolution in Colombia. The 
 country is torn wide open, and reports say nothing can be done 
 down there until peace is restored — and that may take a year or 
 two. But, meantime, we will go ahead and organize the new 
 company and take over Molino and prepare to begin work just 
 as soon as you fellows can get into that country. Everybody 
 has simply got to wait until then. And so this," going to Car- 
 men and taking her hand, "is the wonderful little girl! Well! 
 well!" 
 
 The entrance of Mrs. Ketchim and her troop of children at 
 this juncture interrupted the conversation. "All enthusiastic 
 Simiti stockholders," said Ketchim, waving his hand toward 
 them, after the introductions. "And all going to get rich out of 
 it, too — as well as yourselves, boys. It simply shows how Prov- 
 idence workis — one with God is a majority, always." 
 
 Carmen glanced up at him wonderingly. 
 
 45 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Dinner over, the men were left alone. Carmen had been 
 taken upstairs by the children to the nursery. 
 
 "I've got myself slated for the presidency of the new com- 
 pany," said Ketchim, plunging again into the subject nearest 
 his heart; "and I think we'd better put brother James in as 
 vice-president. Perfectly safe," looking at Harris and winking. 
 "He's got to be recognized, you know, since the Ketchim Realty 
 Company act as fiscal agents. Now for directors I've put down 
 Judge Harris, your father — that's to assure you boys that there'll 
 be some one to look after your interests. Then we'll say Rev- 
 erend Jurges for another. He's got a big congregation and will 
 be able to place a lot of stock. You just ought to see the letter 
 he wrote me about selling stock to his people! You'd never 
 believe he was a good, spiritually-minded clergyman, with an 
 eye single to heavenly riches! Then one of you fellows, say 
 Reed, had better go on the directorate, since Harris will be in 
 Colombia in charge of operations. And — ^well, Cass, too. He's 
 young and immature, but absolutely square. He'll do all the 
 legal work for his stock interest. We save money that way, 
 see?" 
 
 "But what do I do while we are waiting?" asked Harris 
 in some perplexity. "Reed goeis to California right away, you 
 know." 
 
 "That's all right, old man," Ketchim genially assured him. 
 "The new company will be organized at once — this week, if 
 possible. You go on salary from the moment of its incorpora- 
 tion, and you open your office right here in this building. I'll 
 see that the rent is paid until you go back to Colombia. Every- 
 thing's arranged, and you turn right in and help Cass with the 
 new company. There'll be plenty to do. You've got to prepare 
 circulars; write boosting letters to stockholders and pros- 
 pects; follow up leads; and — oh, you'll be busy! But here 
 comes Reverend Coles," looking out of the window as a man 
 came up the steps. "He's interested in some projects I've been 
 exploiting. Just excuse me for a few moments." 
 
 He hastened out to greet the visitor and conducted him into 
 a back room. Reed and Harris were left to the contemplation 
 of their own mixed thoughts. Presently Harris, whose eyes 
 had been dilating for some moments, broke out in a hoarse 
 whisper: "Listen! God a' mighty !^he's praying!" 
 
 He got up softly and approached the door of the room into 
 which Ketchim had taken his caller. In a few minutes he re- 
 turned to his chair. "By Jove!" he exclaimed. "I could see 
 Ketchim through the keyhole, on his knees by the bed, praying 
 with that fellow! Now what the d — !" 
 
 Reed held up a warning finger. Through the silence that 
 
 46 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 fell upon them snatches of the prayer being offered in the 
 adjoining room floated to their ears — "O, blessed Saviour, 
 vouchsafe prosperity to our venture, we beseech thee! The 
 earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof — we ask thy bless- 
 ing on these efforts of ours to wrest from the ground the wealth 
 which the Father of lights has deposited there for the benefit 
 of His children — " 
 
 Harris snickered aloud. "What's the game?" he whispered. 
 
 Reed shook his head in warning. "It may not be a game," 
 he replied. "But if it is, it's an old one, hiding behind the 
 mask of religion. But I'm inclined to believe the man sincere." 
 
 "And I'm not! "'retorted Harris. "I'd rather deal with his 
 brother. I know James to be an out-and-out rascal — he openly 
 flies the black flag. But this pious fellow — ^well, he's got me 
 guessing!" 
 
 The caller soon departed, and Ketchim again joined the 
 young men. "He's our assistant pastor," he said musingly, as 
 he watched the man go down the walk. "Nice young fellow, 
 waiting for a church. He and some of his friends are interested 
 in a zinc mine we've been floating, down in the Joplin district." 
 
 "Got titles?" queried the cynical Harris, with a twinkle in 
 his eyes. 
 
 "Oh, yes," Ketchim smiled affably. 
 
 "Mine producing?" 
 
 "Well, no — not yet. Lots of development work to be done, 
 you know. Always is. And there's a lot of water in this mine." 
 
 "And in the stock, too, eh?" pursued the cruel Harris. "Got 
 any ore?" 
 
 "We haven't struck the deposit yet, although we expect to 
 soon. But," glancing up at the clock on the mantel, "we'll 
 have to be going over to Sunday school now. And I want that 
 little girl to go with Marjorie. Fellows," the man's face be- 
 came deeply serious, "I have no doubt you are both church 
 members?" 
 
 Reed fidgeted uneasily under Ketchim's searching glance; 
 but Harris frankly met the question. "Nope," he asserted, 
 "we're both rank heathen. And I'm a dyed-in-the-wool atheist." 
 
 "Gracious!" cried Ketchim, "how can you say that, when 
 you see the goodness of the Lord on every hand?" 
 
 "Reed, I believe," continued the imperturbable Harris, wav- 
 ing a hand toward his friend, "has philosophical leanings — 
 New Thought, Subliminal Consciousness, Power in Silence, and 
 all that. But I've got to be shown." 
 
 "But surely you believe in the divinity of the Christ?" 
 
 "Well, as a matter of fact, I never gave it much thought," 
 said Harris. "Been pretty busy, you know. Lots of time for 
 that later." 
 
 47 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Ah, that's -what so many say," replied Ketchim sadly; "and 
 then comes the awful voice of the Lord, 'This night thy soul 
 shall be required of thee!' Fellows, I want to pray for you; 
 and I want you both to promise me that you will take up seri- 
 ously the consideration of your souls' welfare. It's too grave a 
 subject for jest," addressing himself solemnly to the grinning 
 Harris. 
 
 "All right, old man," laughed Harris. "But don't dig up 
 any Presbyterian tracts for me. I've got a living witness to — 
 well, to something out of the ordinary, in that girl, Carmen, 
 and I'm inclined to believe she's dug nearer to bottom facts than 
 any of you. So when I'm ready to discuss my soul's welfare 
 I'll just consult her, see?" 
 
 "That reminds me," said Ketchim, turning abruptly to Reed, 
 "what do you intend to do with the girl?" 
 
 "Quien sabe?" Reed answered abstractedly. "Send her to 
 a boarding school, I guess. At least, that's what I told the old 
 man I'd do." 
 
 "So you said befor©," Ketchim returned. "But where?" 
 
 "Don't know yet." 
 
 "Well, let me make a suggestion. My daughter Marjorie 
 leaves Tuesday for Conway-on-the-Hudson, where she has been 
 attending Madam Elwin's Select School for Girls. Suppose 
 you go with her — I'm too busy, myself — and take Carmen. It's 
 only a few hours' ride by boat down the river. And the school 
 is without equal. This is Marjorie's third year there, and she's 
 simply in love with it." 
 
 Reed began to show signs of interest; and Ketchim, noting 
 the effect of his words, went on briskly: 
 
 "Now look here, Molino owes its salvation, and the new 
 company its existence, to that girl. Why shouldn't they do 
 something to show their gratitude? I say, it is no more than 
 right that the new company should support her while she is in 
 school." 
 
 "By Jove ! not a half-bad idea," commented Harris. 
 
 "Certainly not," continued Ketchim earnestly. "Now fix 
 up everything with her as regards the transfer of the mine to 
 the new company, and then let her go with Marjorie to the 
 Elwin school. We can, if you like, make some agreement with 
 her to the effect that when the company is on its feet and she 
 is receiving dividends, she shall return what it may advance 
 for her schooling, eh?" 
 
 "You'd better accept the suggestion. Reed," put in Harris. 
 "I'll be here, you know, to keep an eye on the girl; and I'll take 
 her and Marjorie down to Conway myself, and attend to getting 
 her located right." 
 
 48 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Reed continued to reflect. He was hardly in a position to 
 refuse such an offer.- Besides, he was really leaving her in 
 charge of Harris. "Well," he said at length, "in that case I 
 could leave for California to-morrow night. That matter is 
 pressing hard — all right, I accept the company's offer. It's no 
 more than is due the girl, anyway." 
 
 "Good!" replied Ketchim. "I'll make the necessary ar- 
 rangements at once. And now let's go over to church." 
 
 Thus it was that two days later Carmen, still wondering if 
 she was dreaming, was enrolled in the Elwin Select School for 
 Girls, with Marjorie Ketchim for roommate; while Reed, on 
 the Overland Limited, hurrying to the far West, was musing 
 dubiously at frequent intervals on Ketchim's rather conflicting 
 statements, which, until left to this enforced leisure, he had not 
 had time to try to reconcile. At the same time, while Harris was 
 loudly declaiming to the gracious Madam Elwin on the astonish- 
 ing mental prowess of the girl, Ketchim and Cass sat deeply im- 
 mersed in the tentative plans for the newly-projected Simiti 
 Development Company. 
 
 "Now listen," said Ketchim, who for some minutes had 
 been quietly scanning his youthful lawyer, "Ames knows noth- 
 ing about the formation of this company, but Harris and Reed 
 are not to know that; and we're going to keep Ames in igno- 
 rance of all our plans. With the first sales of stock — and they've 
 already begun — ^we'll return him his Molino investment. Nez- 
 lett wired me this morning that he's sure to sell a big block to 
 the Leveridges, that they're mightily interested, and want to 
 meet Carmen. We'll use the girl for just such purposes. That's 
 one reason why I wanted her handy, so's we could reach her 
 at any time. She makes a star impression; and with her as an 
 advertisement we'll sell a million dollars' worth of stock, and 
 no trouble at all ! She's got that honest look that's convincing. 
 And she can tell a story that beats the Arabian Nights ! Ames 
 has given me a week to explain, or make good his investment. 
 By that time we'll have the Leveridges sold for twice his in- 
 vestment, and we'll just pay him off and remove him. Mean- 
 time, you go over to the bank in the morning and put up the 
 best line of talk you're capable of. I've got sixteen hundred 
 dollars to give 'em on that note; and that'll secure more time, 
 until the sales of stock are enough to pay it all up. Perhaps 
 Uncle Ted will advance me enough to take up the note when he 
 hears about La Libertad. And, say, you see brother James, 
 and shake the club over him until he disgorges that check he 
 got from Miss Leveridge. You can hand him a scare that he 
 won't get over. By George, old man ! things have taken a great 
 turn, eh? Why, I can just see Simiti stock sales humping these 
 
 49 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 next few months. Oh, Miss Honeywell," calling to his cashier, 
 "bring me five dollars, please, and charge it to Molino — I mean, 
 to Simiti. Make a new account for that now." Then, again 
 addressing Cass: "Come with me to the football game this 
 afternoon. We can discuss plans there as well as here. Gee 
 whiz, but I feel great!" 
 
 CHAPTER 6 
 
 CARMEN'S rapid transition from the eternal solitudes of 
 Guamoco to the whirring activities of New York was like 
 a plunge into the maelstrom, and left her groping blindly 
 in the effort to adapt herself to the changed order. There was 
 little in her former mode of existence that could be transferred 
 to her new environment, and she felt that she was starting life 
 like a new-born babe. For days, even weeks, she moved about 
 dreamily, absorbed, ceaselessly striving to orient herself and 
 to accept easily and naturally the marvels, the sudden accession 
 of material aids, and the wonders of this modern, complex 
 civilization, so common to her associates, but scarcely even 
 dreamed of by her in her former home, despite the preparation 
 which Jose had tried to give her. The Elwin school was small, 
 its student-body seldom numbering more than fifty, and in it 
 Carmen found herself hedged about by restrictions which in a 
 way were beneficial, in that they narrowed her environment and 
 afforded her time for her slow adjustment to it. 
 
 But if these restrictions aided her, they also rendered the 
 length of her stay in the school almost calculable. Little by 
 little the girl saw the forces developing which she knew must 
 effect her dismissal; little by little, as Madam Elwin's manner 
 toward her became less gracious, and her schoolmates made 
 fewer efforts to conceal from her the fact that she was not one 
 of them. Carmen prepared for the inevitable. Six months after 
 the girl's . enrollment, Madam Elwin terminated her series of 
 disparaging reports to Ketchim by a request that he come at 
 once and remove his charge from the school. 
 
 "As I have repeatedly said, Mr. Ketchim, the girl is a para- 
 dox. And after these months of disappointing effort to instruct 
 her, I am forced to throw up my hands in despair and send 
 for you." Madam Elwin tapped nervously with a dainty 
 finger upon the desk before her. 
 
 "But, if I may be permitted the question, what specific rea- 
 sons have you. Madam, for — ah, for requesting her removal?" 
 asked the very Reverend Dr. William Jurges, who, having 
 
 50 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 come up to the city to attend a meeting of the directors of the 
 Simiti company, had accepted Ketchim's invitation to first ac- 
 company him on his flying trip to Conway-on-the-Hudson, in 
 response to Madam Elwin's peremptory summons. 
 
 "Because," replied that worthy personage with a show of 
 exasperation, "I consider her influence upon the young ladies 
 here quite detrimental. Our school, while non-sectarian, is at 
 least Christian. Miss Carmen is not. Where she got her views, 
 I can not imagine. At first she made frequent mention of a 
 Catholic priest, who taught her in her home town, in South 
 America. But of late she has grown very reserved — I might 
 say, sullen, and talks but little. Her views, however, are cer- 
 tainly not Catholic. In her class work she has become im- 
 possible. She refuses to accept a large part of our instruction. 
 Her answers to examination questions are wholly in accord 
 with her peculiar views, and hence quite apart from the texts. 
 For that reason she fails to make any grades, excepting in 
 mathematics and the languages. She utterly refuses to accept 
 any religious instruction whatsoever. She would not be called 
 atheistic, for she talks — or used to at first — continually about 
 God. But her God is not the God of the Scriptures, Dr. Jurges. 
 She is a free-thinker, in the strictest sense. And as such, we 
 can not consent to her remaining longer with us." 
 
 "Ah — quite so. Madam, quite so," returned the clergyman, 
 in his unconsciously pompous manner. "Doubtless the child's 
 thought became — ah — contaminated ere she was placed in your 
 care. But — ah — I have heard so much from our good friend, 
 Mr. Ketchim, regarding this young girl, that — ah — I should 
 like exceedingly to see and talk with her — if it might be — 
 ah—" 
 
 "Madam Elwin will arrange that, I am sure," interposed 
 Ketchim. "Suppose," he suggested, addressing the lady, "we 
 let him talk with her, while I discuss with you our recently 
 acquired mine in South America, and the advisability of an 
 investment with us." 
 
 "Certainly," acquiesced Madam Elwin, rising and pressing 
 one of the several buttons in the desk. "Bring Miss Carmen," 
 she directed, to the maid who answered the summons. 
 
 "Pardon me," interrupted Dr. Jurges; "but may I go to her? 
 Ah — it would doubtless be less embarrassing for the child." 
 
 "Miss Carmen was in the chapel a few moments ago," volun- 
 teered the maid. 
 
 "Then take the doctor there," returned Madam Elwin, with 
 a gesture of dismissal. 
 
 At the head of the stairway the mingled sounds of a human 
 voice and the soft, trembling notes of an organ drifted through 
 the long hall and fell upon the ears of the clergyman. 
 
 51 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Miss Carmen," said the maid, answering his unspoken 
 thought. "She often comes up to the chapel and sings for 
 hours at a time — alone. The chapel is down there," pointing to 
 the end of the hall. 
 
 "Then — ah — leave me," said the doctor. "I will proceed 
 alone." 
 
 The maid turned willingly and went below, while the man 
 tiptoed to the chapel door. There he stopped and stood listen- 
 ing. The girl was singing in Spanish, and he could not under- 
 stand the words. But they would have meant nothing to him 
 then. It was the voice upon which they were borne that held 
 him. The song was a weird lament that had come down to the 
 children of Simiti from the hard days of the Conquistadores. It 
 voiced the untold wrongs of the Indian slaves; its sad, unvary- 
 ing minor echoed their smothered moans under the cruel goad; 
 on the plaintive melody of the repeated chorus their piteous 
 cries were carried to heaven's deaf ears; their dull despair 
 floated up on the wailing tones of the little organ, and then 
 died away, as died the hope of the innocent victims of Spanish 
 lust. 
 
 The reverend doctor had never heard a song of that kind be- 
 fore. Nor could he readily associate the voice, which again 
 and again he could not distinguish from the flute-like tones 
 of the organ, with the sordidness and grime of material, fleshly 
 existence. He entered softly and took a seat in the shadow of 
 a pillar. The clear, sweet voice of the young girl flowed over 
 him like celestial Isalm. Song after song she sang. Some 
 were dreamy bits and snatches in Spanish and English; others 
 were sacred in character. He wondered deeply, as the girl 
 mused over these; yet he knew not that they were her own 
 compositions. Curiosity and uncertainty mastered him at 
 length, and he got softly to his feet and moved away from 
 the pillar, that he might see from what manner of being 
 issued such unbroken harmony. But in his eagerness his foot 
 struck a chair, and the sound echoed loudly through the room. 
 
 The music abruptly ceased, and the girl rose and looked 
 over the organ at the intruder. 
 
 "I — I beg your pardon," said the clergyman, advancing in 
 some embarrassment. "I was listening to your singing — 
 uninvited, but none the less appreciative. I — " 
 
 "Wait, please!" cried the girl, hastily stooping over and 
 fumbling with her shoes. The doctor laughed genially, as he 
 grasped the situation. 
 
 "I took them off," she explained hurriedly. "I am not yet 
 accustomed to them. I never wore shoes until I left Simiti." 
 Her face was scarlet, and she tried to cover her confusion with 
 a little laugh. 
 
 52 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The doctor stood staring at her, lost in admiration of the 
 shapely figure, the heavy, curling hair, and the wonderfully 
 expressive face. The girl quickly recovered her poise and re- 
 turned him a frank smile. 
 
 "You wish to see me?" she said, after waiting in vain for 
 him to begin. 
 
 "Ah — a— yes, certainly — that is, I beg your pardon," stam- 
 mered the doctor. "I di(J request permission of Madam Elwin 
 to make your acquaintance. We have heard so much about 
 you. I am Doctor Jurges, an Episcopal clergyman." His 
 sentences issued like blasts from an engine exhaust. 
 
 "I am Carmen Ariza," said the girl, extending her hand. 
 
 "Ah — quite so, quite so," blustered the doctor, clearing his 
 throat noisily. "Let us be seated. Ah — ah — ^you have a re- 
 markable voice. It gives evidence of careful cultivation." 
 
 "No," returned the girl simply. "It has never had any 
 cultivation. It is natural for me to sing. And my poor organ- 
 playing is what I have picked up myself these six months." 
 
 The man regarded her with amazement. "Remarkable!" 
 he murmured. 
 
 The girl looked up into his face searchingly. "Why," she 
 asked, "should every one up here think it remarkable when a 
 human mind is clear enough to be a transparency for God?" 
 
 Had the roof fallen, the excellent doctor could have been no 
 more startled. He cleared his throat violently again; then 
 fumbled nervously in his pocket and drew out his glasses. 
 These he poised upon the ample arch of his ecclesiastical nose, 
 and through them turned a penetrating glance upon the girl. 
 
 "H'm! yes," said he at lengtlg.; "quite so, quite so! And — 
 ah — Miss Carmen, that brings us to the matter in question — 
 your religious instruction-:— ah — may I ask from whom you 
 received it?" 
 
 "From God," was the immediate and frank reply. 
 
 The clergyman started, but quickly recovered his equi- 
 poise. 
 
 "H'm! yes, quite so, quite so! All real instruction descend- 
 eth from above. But— your religious views — I believe they 
 are not considered — ah — quite evangelical, are they? By your 
 present associates, that is." 
 
 "No," she replied, with a trace of sadness in her tone. 
 "But," looking up with a queer little smile, "I am not perse- 
 cuting them for that." 
 
 "Oh, no," with a jerky little laugh. "Assuredly not! H'm! 
 I judge the persecution has come from the other side, has it 
 not?" 
 
 "We will not speak of that," she said quickly. "They do 
 not understand — that is all." 
 
 53 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "H'm ! no, quite so — that is — -ah— may I ask why you think 
 they do not understand? May not you be in error, instead?" 
 
 "If that -which I believe is not true," the girl replied evenly, 
 "it will fail under the test of demonstration. Their beliefs 
 have long since failed under such test — and yet they still cling 
 jealously to them, and try to force them upon all who dis- 
 agree with them. I am a heretic. Doctor." 
 
 "H'm — ah — ^yes, I see. But — it is a quite unfortunate char- 
 acteristic of mankind to attribute one's views indiscriminately 
 to the Almighty — and — ah — I regret to note that you are not 
 wholly free from this error." 
 
 "You do not understand, I think," she quickly returned. 
 "I put every view, every thought, every idea to the test. If good 
 is the result, I know that the thought or idea comes from the 
 source of all good, God. The views I hold are those which I 
 have time and again tested — and some of them have withstood 
 trials which I think you would regard as unusually severe." 
 Her thought had rested momentarily upon her vivid experience 
 in Banco, the dangers which had menaced her in distant 
 Simiti, and the fire through which she had passed in her first 
 hours in Christian America, the land of churches, sects, and 
 creeds. 
 
 "H'm!" the worthy doctor mused, regarding the girl first 
 through his spectacles, and then over the tops of them, while 
 his bushy eyebrows moved up and down with such comicality 
 that Carmen could scarcely refrain from laughing. "H'm! 
 quite so. Ah — suppose you relate to me some of the tests to 
 which your views have been subjected." 
 
 "No," she returned firmly; "those experiences were only 
 states of consciousness, which are now past and gone forever. 
 Why rehearse them? They were human, and so, unreal. Why 
 go back now and give them the appearance of reality?" 
 
 "Unreal! H'm — then you do not regard untoward ex- 
 perience as given us by God for the testing of our faith, I 
 take it." 
 
 Carmen turned her head away with a little sigh of weari- 
 ness. "I think," she said slowly, "I think we had better not 
 talk about these things. Doctor. You are a preacher. Your 
 views are not mine." 
 
 "Why — ah," blustered the clergyman, assuming a more 
 paternal air, "we — ah — would not for a moment cause you 
 embarrassment. Miss Carmen ! But — in fact. Madam Elwin has 
 — ah — expressed her disapproval of your views — your religious 
 ideals, if I may put it so baldly, and she — that is — the good 
 lady regrets — " 
 
 "She wishes to be rid of me, you mean. Doctor'?" said the 
 
 54 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 girl, turning and stretching a mental hand to the sinking 
 divine. 
 
 "H'm! well, hardly so — ah — so — " 
 
 "Doctor," said the girl calmly, "I know it, and I wish tb go. 
 I have been waiting only to see the way open. I do not wish to 
 remain longer in an atmosphere where ignorance and false 
 belief stifle all real progress." 
 
 The doctor turned another look of astonishment upon her. 
 He had forgotten that he had not been talking with one of 
 his own age. The fact suddenly pressed upon him. "How old 
 are you?" he blurted. 
 
 Carmen could not help laughing. But if her clear mental 
 gaze penetrated the ecclesiastical mask and surmounted the 
 theological assumptions of her interlocutor, enabling her to get 
 close to the heart of the man, she did not indicate it further. 
 "I am nearly sixteen," was her only reply. 
 
 "Ah," he reflected, "just a child! My dear girl," he con- 
 tinued, laying a hand indulgently upon hers, "I will advise with 
 Madam Elwin, and will endeavor to convince her that — ah — 
 that your spiritual welfare, if I may so put it, requires that you 
 be not turned adrift at this critical, transitorial period of your 
 life. We must all be patient, while we strive to counteract the 
 — ah — the pernicious teaching to which you were exposed 
 before — ah — before becoming enrolled in this excellent school." 
 
 Carmen looked at him steadily for a moment before reply- 
 ing. There was something of pity in the expression of her 
 beautiful face, of tender sympathy for those who seek the 
 light, and who must some day find it, but whose progress is as 
 yet hampered by the human mind's unreasoning adherence to 
 the stepping-stones over which it has been passing through 
 the dark waters of ignorance. "Then, Doctor," she said calm- 
 ly, "you know what I have been taught?" 
 
 "Why — ah^ — yes — that is, vaguely. But — suppose you in- 
 form me briefly." He was beginning to be .sensible of having 
 passed judgment upon the girl without first according her a 
 hearing. 
 
 "Well," she smiled up at him, "I have been taught the very 
 hardest thing in the whole world." 
 
 "H'm, indeed! Ah, quite so— and that?" 
 
 "To think." 
 
 "To — ah — to think!" He again clutched at his mental 
 poise. "Well, yes, quite so ! But — ah — is it not the function of 
 all our schools to teach us to think?" 
 
 "No," answered the girl decidedly; "not to teach us to 
 think, but to cause us blindly to accept what is ignorantly 
 called 'authority' ! I find we are not to reason, and particularly 
 
 55 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 about religious matters, but to accept, to let those 'in authority' 
 think for us. Is it not so? Are you riot even now seeking to 
 make me accept your religious views? And why? Because 
 the^ are true? Oh, no; but because you believe them true — 
 whether they are or not. Have you demonstrated their truth? 
 Do you come to me with proofs? Do your religious views rest 
 upon anything but the human mind's undemonstrated inter- 
 pretation of the Bible? And yet you can not prove that inter- 
 pretation true, even though you would force it upon such as I, 
 who may differ from you." 
 
 "I — ah — " began the doctor nervously. But Carmen con- 
 tinued without heeding the interruption: 
 
 "Only yesterday Professor Bales, of the University, lectured 
 here on 'The Prime Function of Education.' He said it was 
 the development of the individual, and that the chief end of 
 educational work was the promotion of originality. And yet, 
 when I think along original lines — ^v^hen I depart from stereo- 
 typed formulae, and state boldly that I will not accept any 
 religion, be it Presbyterian, Methodist, or Roman Catholic, 
 that makes a God of spirit the creator of a man of flesh, or 
 that makes evil as real as good, and therefore necessarily 
 created and recognized by a God who by very necessity can not 
 know evil — then I am accused of being a heretic, a free- 
 thinker; and the authorities take steps to remove me, lest my 
 influence contaminate the rest of the pupils!" 
 
 "H'm — ah — ^yes, quite so — that is — I think — " 
 
 "Do you, a preacher, think?" the girl went on hurriedly. 
 "Or do you only think that you think? Do you still believe 
 with the world that the passing of a stream of human thought, 
 or a series of mental pictures, through your mentality con- 
 stitutes real thinking? Do you believe that jumping from 
 one human mental concept to another twenty-four hours a 
 day constitutes thinking? Have you yet learned to distinguish 
 between God's thoughts and their opposites, human thoughts? 
 Do you know what Jesus taught? Have you a real, working, 
 demonstrable knowledge of Christianity? Do you heal the 
 sick, raise the dead, and preach the truth that sets men free 
 from the mesmerism of evil? If so, then you are unevangelical, 
 too, and you and I are both heretics, and we'd better — we'd 
 better leave this building at once, for I find that the Inquisition 
 is still alive, even in America!" 
 
 She stopped, and caught her breath. Her face was flushed, 
 and her vvhole body quivered with emotion. 
 
 "The Inquisition! Why, my dear young lady, this is a 
 Christian nation!" 
 
 "Then," said the girl, "you have still much to learn from 
 the pagan nations that have gone before." 
 
 56 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Bless my soul!" exclaimed the doctor, again adjusting his 
 glasses that he might see her more clearly. "My dear child, 
 you have been thinking too much, and too seriously." 
 
 "No, Doctor," she replied; "but you preachers have not 
 been thinking enough, nor even half seriously. Oh," she went 
 on, while her eyes grew moist, and ever and again her throat 
 filled, "I had expected so much in this great country! And I 
 have found so little — so little that is not wholly material, me- 
 chanical, and unreal ! I had imagined that, with all your learn- 
 ing and progress, which Padre Jose told me about, you would 
 know God much better than we in the darkened South. But 
 your god is matter, machinery, business, gold, and the unreal 
 things that can be bought with money. Some one wrote, in a 
 recent newspaper, that America's god was 'mud and mammon!' 
 What do I find the girls here in this school talking about but 
 dress, and society, and the unreal, passing pleasures of the 
 physical senses! Do they know God? No^ — nor want to! Nor 
 do the preachers! There are religious services here every 
 Sunday, and sermons by preachers who come down from the 
 city. Sometimes a Baptist; sometimes a Presbyterian; and 
 sometimes an Episcopalian, or a Methodist. What is the 
 result? Confusion — religious confusion. Each has a different 
 concept of God; yet they all believe Him the creator of a man 
 of flesh and bones, a man who was originally made perfect, 
 but who fell, and was then cursed by the good and perfect God 
 who made him. Oh, what childish views for men to hold and 
 preach! How could a good God create anything that could 
 fall? And if He could, and did, then He knew in advance that 
 the man would fall, and so God becomes responsible, not man. 
 Oh, Doctor, is it possible that you believe such stuff? How 
 can you! how can you! Is it any wonder that, holding such 
 awful views, you preachers have no longer the power to heal 
 the sick? Do you not know that, in order to heal the sick, one 
 must become spiritually-minded? But no one who holds to 
 the puerile material beliefs embraced in your orthodox theol- 
 ogy can possibly be spiritual enough to do the works Jesus 
 said we should all do if we followed him — really understood 
 him." 
 
 "My dear child — ^you really are quite inconsistent — ^you — " 
 
 "Inconsistent! What a charge for an orthodox preacher to 
 bring ! Let us see : You say that the Scriptures teach that God 
 made man in His image and likeness — the image and likeness 
 of spirit. Very well. Spirit, God, is eternal, immortal. Then 
 while He exists can His image fade away, or die? Can or 
 would God cause it to do so? Can or would He destroy His 
 own reflection? And could that image, always being like 
 
 57 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Him, ever change, or manifest sin, or disease, or evil, unless 
 God first manifested these things? And if God did manifest 
 them, then, perforce, the image would have to do likewise. 
 But, in that case, could (God justly punish His image for faith- 
 fully reflecting its original? Consistent! Oh, it is you preach- 
 ers, lacking sufQcieht spirituality to correctly interpret the 
 Scriptures, who are wildly, childishly, ignorantly inconsistent!" 
 Carmen rose and faced the clergyman. "I did not mean to 
 condemn you, Doctor," she said earnestly. "I wage no warfare 
 with persons or things. My opposition is directed only against 
 the entrenched human thought that makes men spiritually 
 blind and holds them in the mesmeric chains of evil. I am 
 young, as you reckon years, but I have had much experience 
 in the realm of thought — and it is there that all experience is 
 wrought out before it becomes externalized. I have told you, 
 my teacher was God. He used as a channel a priest, who 
 came years ago to my little home town of Simiti, in far-off 
 Colombia. His life had been wrecked by holding to the belief 
 of evil as a power, real and intelligent. He began to see the 
 light; but he did not overcome fear sufficiently to make his 
 demonstration and break the imaginary bonds which held 
 him. He saw, but he did not prove. He will, some day. And, 
 Doctor, you and everybody else will have to do the same. 
 For, unless Jesus uttered the most malicious falsehoods ever 
 voiced, every human being will have to take every step that he 
 took, make every demonstration that he made, and prove all 
 that he proved, before mortals will cease to consume with 
 disease, perish miserably in accidents, and sink with broken 
 lives into graves that do not afford a gateway to immortal life ! 
 My God is infinite, eternal, unchanging mind. The god of the 
 preachers, judging from their sermons preached here, is a 
 human, mental concept, embodying spirit and matter, knowing 
 good and evil, and changing with every caprice of their own 
 unstable mentalities. My religion is the Christianity of the 
 Master, love. Oh, how this poor world needs it, yearns for it! 
 The love that demonstrates the nothingness of evil, and drives 
 it out of human experience! The love that heals the sick, 
 raises the dead, binds up broken hearts ! The love that will - 
 not quench the religious instincts of children, and falsely edu- 
 cate them to know all manner of evil ; but that teaches them to 
 recognize it for what it is, the lie about God, and then shows 
 them how to overcome it, even as Jesus did. My God is truth. 
 Is truth real? Ah, yes, you say. But error is the opposite of 
 truth. Then can error, evil, be real? No, not if you will be 
 consistent. Again, God is infinite. But God is spirit. Then 
 all is spirit and spirit's manifestation — is it not true? What, 
 
 58 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 then, becomes of the evil that men hug to their bosoms, even 
 while it gnaws into their hearts? It is the opposite of good, 
 of mind, of truth, God. And the opposite of truth is supposi- 
 tion. Is it not so? And the supposition is — where? In your 
 mentality. And you can put it out whenever you are willing 
 to drop your ceremonials and your theories, and will open your 
 mentality to truth, which will make you free, even as the 
 Master said. That is my religion, Doctor. Those are the re- 
 ligious views which you have been sent by Madam Elwin to 
 investigate. Am I a heretic? Or unevangelical?" 
 
 She waited a few moments for the doctor to reply. Then, 
 as he remained silent, she went up to him and held out her 
 hand. 
 
 "You do not care to talk with me longer, I think," she said. 
 "Perhaps we may meet again. But, as regards Madam Elwin's 
 wishes, you may tell her that I shall leave the school." 
 
 "Have you — have you been fitting yourself for any — ah — 
 particular work — ah — for your support, that is?" inquired the 
 doctor gravely, as he took the proffered hand. He had been 
 swept off his feet by the girl's conversation, and he had not the 
 temerity to combat her views. 
 
 "Yes," replied Carmen. "I have been working daily to gain 
 a better understanding of the teachings of Jesus, and through 
 them, of God. My single aim has been to acquire 'that mind 
 which was in Christ Jesus.' And I have no other business than 
 to reflect it to my fellow-men in a life of service. That is my 
 Father's business, and I am working with Him. My mission 
 in this world is to manifest God. I am going out now to do 
 that, and to show what love will do. God will use me, and He 
 will supply my every need. And now, good-bye." 
 
 She turned abruptly from him and went to the organ. 
 Soon the same song which he had heard as he entered the 
 room rose again through the stillness. A strong emotion 
 seemed to possess him. He started toward the girl; checked 
 himself; and stood hesitating. Then his lips set, and he 
 turned and walked slowly from the room. 
 
 In the hall two women . were approaching, and as they 
 drew near he recognized one of them. 
 
 "Why," he exclaimed with enthusiasm, holding out both 
 hands, ''joiy dear Mrs. Hawley-Crowles ! It is not so long since 
 we met at the Weston's. But what, may I ask, brings you 
 here?" 
 
 "This is my -sister, Mrs. Charles Reed, Doctor Jurges. We 
 have come tq, make a duty call on Mr. Reed's protegee, the 
 little South Aiherican savage, you know. Madam Elwin said 
 she was up here with you?" 
 
 59 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Ah, yes, quite so — er, in the chapel, I believe," said the 
 clergyman, his face becoming suddenly grave. "I would return 
 ■with you, but my time is — ah — so limited." He bowed low, 
 with his hand in the breast of his long frock xioat, and passed 
 on down the hall. 
 
 As the women approached the door of the chapel through 
 which came Carmen's low singing they turned and looked at 
 each other inquiringly. Then they quietly entered the door- 
 way and stood listening. Carmen, concealed behind the organ, 
 did not see them. 
 
 The song stopped, and Mrs. Hawley-Crowles went quickly 
 to the organ. Bending over it, she gazed down into the face 
 of the startled girl. "My goodness!" she exclaimed. "Get up 
 and let me see what sort of a looking creature you are." 
 
 Carmen rose, and Mrs. Reed came forward and gave her a 
 tempered greeting. Then Mrs. Hawley-Crowles fell back and 
 stared at the girl from head to foot. "You knoW," she said to 
 her sister, "this is the first glimpse I've had of your husband's 
 discovery. I was out of the city when he brought her to my 
 house, you remember. But," turning again to Carmen, "sing 
 that song over, dear, please — the one you were singing just 
 now." , 
 
 Carmen seated herself again at the organ, and Mrs. Hawley- 
 Crowles drew her sister to the rear of the room. "It will sound 
 better back here," she explained. 
 
 After the lapse of a few minutes she turned to Mrs. Reed. 
 "Belle," she said, nodding her head sententiously, "you had a 
 pearl, and you threw it away. That girl there is our social 
 fortune! Her voice, and her face — ^why, with our ward — this 
 beautiful, gifted. South American owner of a famous mine — 
 as a lever, we can force the Beaubien to bring the Ames to our 
 terms! She goes back with Us to-night! You've been blind!" 
 
 Meantime, the dainty Madam Elwin and the amiable Doctor 
 Jurges in the office below had reached a conclusion. "A young 
 lady of — ah — invincible will," the doctor had observed; "and 
 already — ah — decidedly mature, despite her tender years. 
 Should she — ah — assume leadership over the pupils of your 
 school, my dear Madam Elwin, the result might be disquiet- 
 ing. There can be no question as to her religious views, as I 
 have said. But, what astonishes me is — ah — that this strange 
 cult should have its devotees even in the wilds of tropical 
 America! Astonishing — and so unfortunate! The girl is ut- 
 terly— ah — unevangelical. Madam; and the advisability of re- 
 moving her from the school can not be questioned. Do you 
 not agree with me, Mr. Ketchim?" 
 
 "By all means," asserted the latter gentleman with great 
 
 60 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 seriousness, while his eyes dwelt tenderly upon Madam Elwin's 
 written order for a hundred shares of Simiti stock which he 
 held in his hand. 
 
 "Very well, then," said the lady with a determined nod of 
 her head; "I shall request Mrs. Reed to take her to-day." 
 Then, with a proper sense of what it meant to have the moral 
 support of such an eminent divine as Doctor Jurges, she rang 
 for her maid and bade her summon Mrs. Reed and the girl. 
 
 Thus it was that Carmen was again shifted a space on the 
 checkerboard of life, and slept that iiight once more under 
 the spacious roof of the wealthy relict of the late James Hawley- 
 Crowles, on Riverside Drive* 
 
 CHAPTER 7 
 
 AS has been said. Carmen's six months in the El win school 
 A\ had been a period of slow adjustment to the changed 
 order. She had brought into this new world a charm of 
 unsophistication, an ingenuous naiveti, such as only an un- 
 trammeled spirit nourished in an elemental civilization like 
 that of primitive Simiti could develop. Added to this was the 
 zest and eagerness stimulated by the thought that she had come 
 as a message-bearer to a people with a great need. Her first 
 emotion had been that of astonishment that the dwellers in 
 the great States were not so different, after all, from those of 
 her own unprogressive country. Her next was one of sad dis- 
 illusionment, . as the fact slowly dawned upon her trusting 
 thought that the busy denizens of her new environment took 
 no interest whatsoever in her message. And then her joy and 
 brilliant hopefulness had chilled, and she awoke to find her 
 strange -views a barrier between herself and her associates. 
 She had brought to the America of the North a spirit so deeply 
 religious as to know naught else than her God and His ceaseless 
 manifestation. She had come utterly free of dogma or creed, 
 and happily ignorant of decaying formularies and religious 
 caste. Her Christianity was her demonstrable interpretation of 
 the Master's words; and her fresh, ebulliant spirit soared un- 
 hampered in the warm atmosphere of love for mankind. Her 
 concept of the Christ stirred no thought within her of in- 
 tolerance toward those who might hold differing views ; nor did 
 it raise interposing barriers within her own mind, nor evoke 
 those baser sentiments which have so sadly warped the souls 
 of men into instruments of deadly hatred and crushing tyr- 
 anny. Her spiritual vision, undimmed and world-embracing, 
 
 61 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 saw the advent of that day when all mankind would obey the 
 commands of Jesus, and do the works which he did, even to 
 the complete spiritualization and dematerializing of all human 
 thought. And her burning desire was to hasten the coming 
 of that glad hour. 
 
 The conviction that, despite its tremendous needs, humanity 
 was steadily rejecting, even in this great land of opportunity 
 and progress, the remedy for its consuming ills, came to her 
 slowly. And with it a damping of her ardor, and a dulling of 
 the fine edge of her enthusiasm. She grew quiet as the days 
 passed, and drew away from her companions into her thought. 
 With her increasing sense pf isolation came at length a great 
 longing to leave these inhospitable shores, and return to her 
 native environment and the sympathy and tender solicitude of 
 her beloved Rosendo and Padre Jose. But, alas! that was at 
 present impossible. Indeed, she could not be certain now of 
 their whereabouts. A great war was raging in Colombia, and 
 she knew not what fate had befallen her loved ones. To her 
 many letters directed to Simiti there had come back no reply. 
 Even Harris, who had written again and again to both Ro- 
 sendo and Jose, had received no word from them in return. 
 Corroding fear began to assail the girl ; soul-longing and heart- 
 sickness seized upon her; her happy smile faded; and her 
 bright, bubbling conversation ceased. 
 
 Then one day, standing alone in her room, she turned 
 squarely upon the foul brood of evil suggestions crowding 
 upon her and, as if they were fell spirits from the nether 
 world, bade them begone. "Listen!" she cried aloud. "I know 
 you for what you are — nothing! You seemed to use Padre Jose, 
 but you can't use me! God is everywhere — right here! He is 
 my life; and you, evil thoughts, can't make me think He isn't! 
 I am His image and likeness; I am His witness; and I will not 
 witness to His opposite, evil! My life is filled with harmony; 
 and you, evil thoughts, can't reyerse that fact! God has 
 brought me here, else I would not have come, for He is the 
 cause of all that is. It is for me to stand and see His glory. 
 No! no!" as she paced about the room and seemed to ward off 
 the assaults of an invisible enemy, "there is no power apart 
 from Him! On that I stand!" 
 
 Then, in the lull of battle, "Father divine, I thank Thee 
 that Thou hast heard me. And now I lay my all upon the altar 
 of love, and throw myself upon Thy thought." 
 
 From that day, despite continued attacks from error — 
 despite, too, the veiled slights and covert insinuations of her 
 schoolmates, to whom the girl's odd views and utter refusal to 
 share their accustomed conversation, their interest in mundane 
 
 62 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 affairs, their social aspirations and worldly ambitions, at length 
 made her quite unwelcome — Carmen steadily, and without heed 
 of diverting gesture, brought into captivity every thought to 
 the obedience of her Christ-principle, and threw off for all 
 time the dark cloud of pessimism which human belief and the 
 mesmerism of events had drawn over her joyous spirit. 
 
 Mrs. Reed had not been near her since her enrollment in 
 the school; but Ketchim had visited her often — not, however, 
 alone, but always with one or more prospective purchasers of 
 Simiti stock in tow whom he sought to influence favorably 
 through Carmen's interesting conversation about her native 
 land. Harris came every Sunday, and the girl welcomed the 
 great, blundering fellow as the coming of the day. At times he 
 would obtain Madam Elwin's permission to take the girl up 
 to the city on a little sight-seeing expedition, and then he would 
 abandon himself completely to the enjoyment of her naive 
 wonder and the numberless and often piquant questions stimu- 
 lated by it. He was the only one now with whom she felt any 
 degree of freedom, and in his presence her restraint vanished 
 and her airy gaiety again welled forth with all its wonted 
 fervor. Once, shortly after Carmen had been enrolled; Harris 
 took her to a concert by the New York Symphony Orchestra. 
 But in the midst of the program, after sitting in silent rapture, 
 the girl suddenly burst into tears and begged to be taken out. 
 "I couldn't stand it!" she sobbed as, outside the door, she hid 
 her tear-stained face in his coat; "I just couldn't! It was 
 heavenly! Oh, it was God that we heard — it was God!" And 
 the astonished fellow respected this sudden outburst of pent-up 
 emotion as he led her, silent and absorbed, back to the school. 
 
 With the throwing of the girl upon her own thought came 
 a rapid expansion of both mind and body into maturity, and 
 the young lady who left the Elwin school that bright spring 
 afternoon under the protection of the self-su£Bcient Mrs. Haw- 
 ley-Crowles was very far from being the inquisitive, unabashed 
 little girl who had so greatly shocked the good Sister Superior 
 by her heretical views some six months befoi'e. The sophisti- 
 cation engendered by her intercourse with the pupils and in- 
 structors in the school had transformed the eager, trusting 
 little maid, who could see only good, into a mature woman, 
 who, though her trust remained unshaken, nevertheless had a 
 better understanding of the seeming power "that lusteth against 
 the spirit," and whose idea of her mission had been deepened 
 into a grave sense of responsibility. She saw now, as never 
 before, the awful unreality of the human sense of life; but she 
 likewise understood, as never previously, its seeming reality 
 in the human consciousness, and its terrible mesmeric power 
 
 63 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 over those materialistic minds into which the light of spiritual- 
 ity had as yet scarcely penetrated. Her thought had begun to 
 shape a definite purpose; she was still to be a message-bearer, 
 but the message must be set forth in her life conduct. The 
 futility of promiscuous verbal delivery of the message to whom- 
 soever might cross her path had been made patent. Jesus 
 taught — and then proved. She must do likewise, and let her 
 deeds attest the truth of her words. And from the day that 
 she bade the suggestions of fear and evil leave her, she had 
 consecrated herself anew to a searching study of the Master's 
 life and words, if happily she might acquire "that mind" which 
 he so wondrously expressed. 
 
 But the assumption of an attitude of quiet demonstration 
 was by no means sudden. There were times when she could 
 not restrain the impulse to challenge the beliefs so authorita- 
 tively set forth by the preachers and lecturers whom Madam 
 Elwin invited to address her pupils, and who, unlike Jesus, 
 first taught, and then relegated their proofs to a life beyond 
 the grave. Once, shortly after entering the school, forgetful 
 of all but the error being preached, she had risen in the midst 
 of an eloquent sermon by the eminent Darius Borwell, a Pres- 
 byterian divine of considerable repute, and asked him why it 
 was that, as he seemed to set forth, God had changed His mind 
 after creating spiritual man, and had created a man of dust. 
 She had later repented her scandalous conduct in sackcloth and 
 ashes; but it did not prevent her from abruptly leaving the 
 cha;pel on a subsequent Sunday when another divine, this time 
 a complaisant Methodist, quite satisfied with his theories of 
 endless future rewards and fiery punishments, dwelt at length 
 upon the traditional idea that the sorrows of the world are God- 
 sent for mankind's chastisement and discipline. 
 
 Then she gradually learned to be less defiant of the conven- 
 tions and beliefs of the day, and determined quietly to rise 
 superior to them. But her experience with the preachers 
 wrought within her a strong determination henceforth to listen 
 to no religious propaganda whatsoever, to give no further heed 
 to current theological beliefs, and to enter no church edifice, 
 regardless of the tenets of the sect worshiping within its 
 precincts. The wisdom of this decision she left for the future 
 to determine. 
 
 "Oh," she cried, "my only mission is to manifest the divine, 
 not to waste time listening to the theories of ignorant preach- 
 ers, who fail utterly to prove the truth of their teachings ! Oh, 
 how the world needs love — ^just love! And I am going to love 
 it with the selfless love that comes from God, and destroys 
 error and the false beliefs that become externalized in the 
 
 61 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 human consciousness as sickness, failure, old age, and death! 
 Love, love, love — ^it is mankind's greatest need! Why, if the 
 preachers only knew, the very heart and soul of Christianity 
 is love! It is love that casts out fear; and fear is at the bottom 
 of all sickness, for fear leads to belief in other gods than the 
 one Father of Christ Jesus! Christianity is aflame with love! 
 Oh, God — take me out into the world, and let me show it what 
 love .can do!" 
 
 And the divine ear heard the call of this beautiful dis- 
 ciple of the Christ — aye, had heard it long before the solicitous, 
 fluttering little Madam Elwin decided that the strange girl's 
 unevangelical views were inimical to the best interests of her 
 very select school. The social ambitions of the wealthy Mrs. 
 Hawley-Crowles threw wide the portals of the world to Carmen, 
 and she entered, wide-eyed and wondering. Nor did she re- 
 turn until the deepest recesses of the human mind had revealed 
 to her their abysmal hideousness, their ghastly emptiness of 
 reality, and their woeful mesmeric deception. 
 
 CHAPTER 8 
 
 MRS. JAMES HAWLEY-CROWLES, more keenly percep- 
 tive than her sister, had seized upon Carmen with avid- 
 ity bred of hope long deferred. The scourge of years 
 of fruitless social striving had rendered her desperate, and she 
 would have staged a ballet on her dining table, with her own 
 ample self as premiere danseuse, did the attraction but promise 
 recognition from the blase members of fashionable New York's 
 ultra conservative set. From childhood she had looked eagerly 
 forward through the years with an eye single to such recogni- 
 tion as life's desideratum. To this end she had bartered both 
 youth and beauty with calculated precision for the Hawley- 
 Crowles money bags; only to weep floods of angry tears when 
 the bargain left her social status unchanged, and herself tied 
 to a decrepit old rounder, whose tarnished name wholly neutral- 
 ized the purchasing power of his ill-gotten gold. Fortunately 
 for the reputations of them both, her husband had the good 
 sense to depart this life ere the divorce proceedings which she 
 had long had in contemplation were instituted; whereupon 
 the stricken widow had him carefully incinerated and his 
 ashes tenderly deposited in a chaste urn in a mausoleum which 
 her architect had taken oath cost more than the showy Ames 
 vault by many thousands. The period of decorous mourning 
 past, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles blithely doffed her weeds and threw 
 
 65 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 herself again into the terrific competition for social standing, 
 determined this time that it should be a warfare to the death. 
 
 And so it bade fair to prove to her, when the eminent nerve 
 specialist, Dr. Bascom Ross, giving a scant half hour to the 
 consideration of her case, at the modest charge of one hundred 
 dollars, warned her to declare a truce and flee to the Alps for 
 unalloyed rest. She complied, and had returned with restored 
 health and determination just as her sister came up from South 
 America, bringing the odd little "savage" whom Reed had dis- 
 covered in the wilds of Guamoco. A prolonged week-end at 
 Newport, the last of the summer season, accounted for her 
 absence from the city when Reed brought Carmen to her house, 
 where he and his wife were making their temporary abode. 
 Six months later, in her swift appraisal of the girl in the Elwin 
 school, to whom she had never before given a thought, she 
 seemed to see a light. 
 
 "It does look like a desperate chance, I admit," she said, 
 when recounting her plans to her sister a day or so later. 
 "But I've played every other card in my hand; and now this 
 girl is going to be either a trump or a joker. All we need is 
 a word from the Beaubien, and the following week will see 
 an invitation at our door from Mrs. J. Wilton Ames. The 
 trick is to reach the Beaubien. That I calculate to do through 
 Carmen. And I'm going to introduce the girl as an Inca prin- 
 cess. Why not? It will make a tremendous hit." 
 
 Mrs. Reed was not less ambitious than her sister, but hith- 
 erto she had lacked the one essential to social success, money. 
 In addition, she had committed the egregious blunder of mar- 
 rying for love. And now that the honeymoon had become a 
 memory, and she faced again her growing ambition, with a 
 struggling husband who had neither name nor wealth to aid 
 her, she had found her own modest income of ten thousand 
 a year, which she had inherited from her mother, only an 
 aggravation. True, in time her wandering father would pass 
 away; and there was no doubt that his vast property would 
 fall to his daughters, his only living kin. But at present, in 
 view of his aggressively good health and disregard for his 
 relatives, her only recourse was to attach herself to her 
 wealthy, sharp-witted sister, and hope to be towed safely into 
 the social swim, should that scheming lady ultimately achieve 
 her high ambition. 
 
 Just why Mrs. Hawley-Crowles should l^ve seen in Carmen 
 a means of reaching a woman of the stamp of the Beaubien, and 
 through her the leader of the most exclusive social set in the 
 metropolis, is difficult to say. But thus does the human mind 
 often seek to further its own dubious aims through guileless 
 
 66 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 innocence and trust. Perhaps Mrs. Hawley-Crowles had like- 
 wise a slight trace of that clairvoyance of wisdom which so 
 characterized the girl. But with this difference, that she knew 
 not why she was led to adopt certain means; while Carmen, 
 penetrating externals, consciously sought to turn those who 
 would employ her into channels for the expression of her own 
 dominant thought. Be that as it may, the Beaubien was now 
 the stone before the door of their hope, and Carmen the lever 
 by which these calculating women intended it should be moved. 
 
 "The Beaubien, my dear," explained Mrs. Hawley-Crowles 
 to her inquisitive sister, whose life had been lived almost en- 
 tirely away from New York, "is J. Wilton Ames's very particu- 
 lar friend, of long standing. As I told you, I have recently been 
 going through my late unpleasant husband's effects, and have 
 unearthed letters and memoranda which throw floods of light 
 upon Jim's early indiscretions and his association with both 
 the Beaubien and Ames. Jim once told me, in a burst of 
 alcoholic confidence, that she had saved him from J. Wilton's 
 clutches in the dim past, and for that he owed her endless 
 gratitude, as well as for never permitting him to darken her 
 door again. Now I have never met the Beaubien. Few women 
 have. But I dare say she knows all about us. However, the 
 point that concerns us now is this: she has a hold on Ames, 
 and, unless rumor is wide of the truth, when she hints to him 
 that his wife's dinner list or yachting party seems incomplete 
 without such or such a name, why, the list is immediately 
 revised." 
 
 The position which the Beaubien held was, if Madam On-dit 
 was not to be wholly discredited, to say the least, unique. It 
 was not as social dictator that she posed, for in a great cosmo- 
 politan city where polite society is infinitely complex in its 
 make-up such a position can scarcely be said to exist. It was 
 rather as an influence that she was felt, an influence never 
 seen, but powerful, subtle, and wholly inexplicable, working 
 now through this channel, now through that, and effecting 
 changes in the social complexion of conservative New York that 
 were utterly in defiance of the most rigid convention. Par- 
 ticularly was her power felt in the narrow circle over which 
 Mrs. J. Wilton Ames presided, by reason of her own and her 
 husband's aristocratic descent, and the latter's bursting coffers 
 and supremacy in the realm of finance. 
 
 Only for her sagacity, the great influence of the woman 
 would have been short-lived. But, whatever else might be said 
 of her, the Beaubien was wise, with a discretion that was posi- 
 tively uncanny. Tall, voluptuous, yet graceful as a fawn; 
 black, wavy, abundant hair; eyes whose dark, liquid depths 
 
 67 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 held unfathomable mysteries; gracious, affable, yet keen as a 
 razor blade; tender, even sentimental on occasions, with an 
 infinite capacity for either love or hate, this many-sided woman, 
 whose brilliant fla,shes of wit kept the savant or roue at her 
 table in an uproar, could, if occasion required, found an or- 
 phanage or drop a bichloride tablet in the glass of her rival 
 with the same measure of calculating precision and disdain of 
 the future. It was said of her that she might have laid down 
 her life for the man she loved. It is probable that she never 
 met with one worth the sacrifice. . 
 
 While yet in short dresses she had fled from her boarding 
 school, near a fashionable resort in the New Hampshire hills, 
 with a French Colonel, Gaspard de Beaubien; a man twice her 
 age. With him she had spent eight increasingly miserable years 
 in Paris. Then, her withered romance carefully entombed in 
 the secret places of her heart, she secured a divorce from the 
 roistering colonel, together with a small settlement, and set 
 sail for New York to hunt for larger and more valuable game. 
 
 With abundant charms and sang-froid for her capital, she 
 rented an expensive apartment in a fashionable quarter of the 
 city, and then settled down to business. Whether she would 
 have fallen upon bad days or not will never be known, for the 
 first haul of her widespread net landed a fish of supreme 
 quality, J. Wilton Ames. On the plea of financial necessity, 
 she had gone boldly to his office with the deed to a parcel of 
 worthless land out on the moist sands of the New, Jersey shore,^ 
 which the unscrupulous Gaspard de Beaubien had settled upon 
 her when she severed the tie which bound them, and which, 
 after weeks of careful research, she discovered adjoined a tract 
 owned by Ames. Pushing aside office boy, clerk, and guard, she 
 reached the inner sanctum of the astonished financier him- 
 self and offered to sell at a ruinous figure. A few well-timed 
 tears, an expression of angelic innocence on her beautiful face, 
 a despairing gesture or two with her lovely arms, coupled with 
 "the audacity which she had shown in forcing an entrance into 
 his office, effected the man's capitulation. She was then in her 
 twenty-fourth year. 
 
 The result was that she cast her net no more, but devoted 
 herself thenceforth with tender consecration to her important 
 catch. In time Ames brought a friend, the rollicking James 
 Hawley-Crowles, to call upon the charming Beaubien. In 
 time, too, as was perfectly natural, a rivalry sprang up between 
 the men, which the beautiful creature watered so tenderly that 
 the investments which she was enabled to make under the 
 direction of these powerful rivals flourished like Jack's bean- 
 stalk, and she was soon able to leave her small apartment and 
 take a suite but a few blocks from the Ames mansion. 
 
 68 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 At length the strain between Ames and Hawley-Crowles 
 reached the breaking point; arid then the former decided that 
 the woman's bewitching smiles should thenceforth be his alone. 
 He forthwith drew the seldom sober Hawley-Crowles into 
 certain business deals, wfth the gentle connivance of the suave 
 Beaubien herself, and at length sold the man out short and 
 presented a claim on every dollar he possessed. Hawley- 
 Crowles awoke from his blissful dream sober and trimmed. 
 But then the Beaubien experienced one of her rare and inex- 
 plicable revulsions of the ethical sense, and a compromise had 
 to be effected, whereby the Hawley-Crowles fortune was saved, 
 though the man should see the Beaubien no more. 
 
 By this time her beauty was blooming in its utmost pro- 
 fusion, and her prowess had been fairly tried. She took a 
 large house, furnished it like unto a palace, and proceeded to 
 throw her gauntlet in the face of the impregnable social 
 caste. There she drew about her a circle of bon-vivants, ar- 
 tists, litterateurs, politicians, and men of finance — with never 
 a woman in the group. Yet in her new home she established 
 a social code as rigid as the Median law, and woe to him 
 within her gates who thereafter, with or without intent, passed 
 the bounds of respectful decorum. His name was heard no 
 more on her rosy lips. 
 
 Her dinners were Lucullan in their magnificence; and over 
 the rare wines and imperial cigars which she furnished, 
 her guests passed many a tip and prognostication anent the 
 market, which she in turn quietly transmitted to her brokers. 
 She came to understand the game thoroughly, and, while it 
 was her heyday of glorious splendor, she played hard. She 
 had bartered every priceless gift of nature for gold: — arid she 
 made sure that the measure she received in return was full. 
 Her gaze was ever upon the approaching day when those 
 charms would be but bitter memories; and it was her grim 
 intention that when it came silken ease should compensate 
 for their loss. 
 
 Ten years passed, and the Beaubien's reign continued with 
 undimmed splendor. In the meantime, the wife of J. Wilton 
 Ames had reached the zenith of her ambitions and was the 
 acknowledged leader in New York's most fashionable social 
 circle. These two women never met. But, though the Beau- 
 bien had never sought the entree to formal society, preferring 
 to hold her own court, at which no women attended, she ex- 
 ercised a certain control over it through her influence upon 
 the man Ames. What Mrs. Ames knew of the long-continued 
 relations between her husband and this woman was never 
 divulged. And doubtless she was wholly satisfied that his 
 
 69 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 wealth and power afforded her the position which her heart 
 had craved; and, that secure, she was willing to leave him to 
 his own methods of obtaining diversion. But rumor was per- 
 sistent, maliciously so; and rumor declared that the list of 
 this envied society dame was not drawn up without the ap- 
 proval of her husband and the woman with whom his leisure 
 hours were invariably spent. Hence the hope of Mrs. Haw- 
 ley-Crowles, whose doting mate had once fawned in the per- 
 fumed wake of the luxurious Beaubien. 
 
 Carmen, whose wishes had not been consulted, had voiced 
 no objection whatever to returning to the Hawley-Crowles 
 home. Indeed, she secretly rejoiced that an opportunity had 
 been so easily afforded for escape from the stifling atmosphere 
 of the Elwin school, and for entrance into the great world of 
 people and affairs, where she believed the soil prepared for the 
 seed she would plant. That dire surprises awaited her, of 
 which she could not even dream, did not enter her calcula- 
 tions. Secure in her quenchless faith, she gladly accepted the 
 proffered shelter of the Hawley-Crowles mansion, and the pro- 
 tection of its worldly, scheming inmates. 
 
 In silent, wide-eyed wonder, in the days that followed, the 
 girl strove to accustom herself to the luxury of her surround- 
 ings, and to the undreamed of marvels which made for physical 
 comfort and well-being. Each installment of the ample allow- 
 ance which Mrs. Hawley-Crowles settled upon her seemed a 
 fortune — enough, she thought, to buy the whole town of Simiti ! 
 Her gowns seemed woven on fairy looms, and often she would 
 sit for hours, holding them in her lap and reveling in their 
 richness. Then, when at length she could bring herself to 
 don the robes and peep timidly into the great pier glasses, she 
 would burst into startled exclamations and hide her face in her 
 hands, lest the gorgeous splendor of the beautiful reflection 
 overpower her. 
 
 "Oh," she would exclaim, "it can't be that the girl reflected 
 there ever lived and dressed as I did in Simiti! I wonder, oh, 
 I wonder if Padre Jose knew that these things were in the 
 world!" 
 
 And then, as she leaned back in her chair and gave herself 
 into the hands of the admiring French maid, she would close 
 her eyes and dream that the fairy-stories which the patient 
 Jose had told her again and again in her distant home town 
 had come true, and that she had been transformed into a 
 beautiful princess, who would some day go in search of the 
 sleeping priest and wake him from his mesmeric dream. 
 
 Then would come the inevitable thought of the little news- 
 boy of Cartagena, to whom she had long since begun to send 
 
 70 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 monetary contributions — and of her unanswered letters — of 
 the war devastating her native land — of rudely severed ties, 
 and unimaginable changes — and she would start from her 
 musing and brush away the gathering tears, and try to realize 
 that her present situation and environment were but means 
 to an end, opportunities which her God had given her to do 
 His work, with no thought of herself. 
 
 A few days after Carmen had been installed in her new 
 home, during which she had left the house only for her diurnal 
 ride in the big limousine, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles announced her 
 readiness to flre the first gun in the attack upon the Beaubien, 
 "My dear," she said to her sister, as they sat alone in the 
 luxurious sun-parlor, "my washerwoman dropped a remark 
 the other day which gave me something to build on. Her two 
 babies are in the General Orphan Asylum, up on Twenty-third 
 street. Well, it happens that this institution is the Beaubien's 
 sole charity — in fact, it is her particular hobby. I presume 
 that she feels she is now a middle-aged woman, and that the 
 time is not far distant when she will have to close up her 
 earthly accounts and hand- them over to the heavenly auditor. 
 Anyway, this last year or two she has suddenly become philan- 
 thropic, and when the General Orphan Asylum was building she 
 gave some fifty thousand dollars • for a cottage in her name. 
 What's more, the trustees of the Asylum accepted it without 
 the wink of an eyelash. Funny, isn't it? 
 
 "But here's the point: some rich old fellow has willed the 
 institution a fund whose income every year is used to buy 
 clothing for the kiddies; and they have a sort of celebration 
 on the day the duds are given out, and the public is invited to 
 inspect the place and the inmates, and eat a bit, and look 
 aroiind generally. Well, my washerwoman tells me that the 
 Beaubien always attends these annual celebrations. The next 
 one, I learn, comes in about a month. I propose that we attend ; 
 take Carmen; ask permission for her to sing to the children, 
 and thereby attract the attention of the gorgeous Beaubien, who 
 will be sure to speak to the girl, who is herself an orphan, and, 
 ten to one, want to see more of her. The rest is easy. I'll 
 have a word to say regarding our immense debt of gratitude to 
 her for saving Jim's fortune years ago when he was entangled 
 in her net— and, well, if that scheme doesn't work, I have 
 other strings to my bow." 
 
 But it did work, and with an ease that exceeded the most 
 sanguine hopes of its projector. On the day that the General 
 Orphan Asylum threw wide its doors to the public, the Hawley- 
 Crowles limousine rubbed noses with the big French car of the 
 Beaubien in the street without; while. within the building the 
 
 71 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Beaubien held the hand of the beautiful girl whose voluntary 
 singing had spread a veil of silence over the awed spectators 
 in the great assembly room, and, looking earnestly down into 
 the big, trusting, brown eyes, said : "My dear child, I want to 
 know you." Then, turning to the eager, itching Mrs. Hawley- 
 Crowles, "I shall send my car for her to-morrow afternoon, 
 with your permission." 
 
 With her permission! Heavens! Mrs. Hawley-Crowles 
 wildly hugged her sister and the girl all the way home — then 
 went to bed that night with tears of apprehension in her 
 washed-out eyes, lest she had shown herself too eager in grant- 
 ing the Beaubien's request. But her fears were turned to ex- 
 ultation when the Beaubien car drew up at her door the follow- 
 ing day at three, and the courteous French chauffeur announced 
 his errand. 'A few moments later, while the car glided purring 
 over the smooth asphalt. Carmen, robed like a princess, lay 
 batk in the cushions and dreamed of the poor priest in the 
 dead little town so far away. 
 
 CHAPTER 9 
 
 "^ING it again, dear. I know you are tired, but I want to 
 ^N hear that song just once more. Somehow it seems to 
 ^^^ bring up thoughts of — of things that might have been." 
 The Beaubien's voice sank to a whisper as she finished. 
 
 Carmen laughed happily and prepared to repeat the weird 
 lament which had so fascinated the Reverend Doctor Jurges 
 a few days before. 
 
 "I — I don't know why that song affects me so," mused the 
 Beaubien, when the girl had finished and returned to the seat 
 beside her. Then, abruptly : "I wish you could play the pipe- 
 organ out in the hall. I put twelve thousand dollars into it, 
 and I can't even play five-finger exercises on it." 
 
 "Twelve thousand dollars!" exclaimed Carmen, drawing a 
 long breath, while her eyes dilated. 
 
 The woman laughed. "Would that buy your beloved 
 Simiti?" she asked. "Well, you poor, unsophisticated girl, sup- 
 pose we just go down there aitd buy the whole town. 'It would 
 at least give me an interest in life. Do you think I could stand 
 the heat there? But tell me more about il. How did you live, 
 and what did you do? And who is this Jose? And are you 
 really descended from the old Incas?" 
 
 They were alone in the darkened music room, and the soft- 
 stepping, liveried butler had just set the tea table before them. 
 
 72 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 At one end of the long room a cheery fire snapped and crackled 
 in the huge fireplace, tempering the sharpness of the early 
 spring day and casting a ruddy glow upon the tapestried walls 
 and polished floor in front, where dozed the Beaubien's .two 
 "babies," Japanese and Pekingese spaniels of registered pedi- 
 gree and fabulous Value. Among the heavy beams of the lofty 
 ceiling grotesque shadows danced and flickered,, while over the 
 costly rugs and rare skins on the floor below subdued lights 
 played in animated pantomime. Behind the magnificent grand 
 piano a beautifully wrought harp reflected a golden radiance 
 into the room. Everything in the woman's environment was 
 softened into the same degree of voluptuousness which charac- 
 terized her and the life of sybaritic ease which she affected. 
 
 From the moment Carmen entered the house she had been 
 charmed, fascinated, overpowered by the display of exhaus.t- 
 less wealth and the rich taste exhibited in its harmonious 
 manifestation. The Hawley-Crowles home had seemed to her 
 the epitome of material elegance and comfort, far exceeding the 
 most fantastic concepts of her childish imagination, when she 
 had listened enraptured to Padre Josd's compelling stories of 
 the great world beyond Simiti. But the gorgeous web of this 
 social spider made even the Hawley-Crowles mansion suffer in 
 comparison. 
 
 "And yet," said the amused Beaubien, when Carmen could 
 no longer restrain her wonder and admiration, "this is but a 
 shed beside the new Ames house, going up on Fifth Avenue. 
 I presume he will put not less than ten millions into it before it 
 is finished." 
 
 "Ten millions! In just a house!" Carmen dared not at- 
 tempt to grasp the complex significance of such an expendi- 
 ture. 
 
 "Why, is that such a huge amount, child?" asked the Beau- 
 bien, as accustomed to think in eight figures as in two. "But, 
 I forget that you are from the jungle. Yet, who would imagine 
 it?" she mused, gazing with undisguised admiration at the 
 beautiful, animated girl before her. 
 
 Silence then fell upon them both. Carmen was struggling 
 with the deluge of new impressions; and the woman fastened 
 her eyes upon her as if she would have them bore deep into 
 the soul of whose rarity she was becoming slowly aware. What 
 thoughts coursed through the mind of the Beaubien as she sat 
 studying the girl through the tempered light, we may not 
 know. What she saw in Carmen that attracted her, she herself 
 might not have told. Had she, too, this ultra-mondaine, this 
 creature of gold and tinsel, felt the spell of the girl's great 
 innocence and purity of thought, her righteousness? Or did 
 
 73 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 she see in her something that she herself might once have 
 been — something that all her gold, and all the wealth of Ormus 
 or of Ind could never buy? 
 
 "What have you got," she suddenly* almost rudely, ex- 
 claimed, "that I haven't?" And then the banality-of the ques- 
 tion struck her, and she laughed harshly. 
 
 "Why," said Carmen, looking up quickly and beaming upon 
 the woman, "you have everything! Oh, what more could you 
 wish?" 
 
 "You," returned the woman quickly, though she knew not 
 why she said it. And yet, memory was busy uncovering those 
 bitter days when, in the first agony of marital disappointment, 
 she had, with hot, streaming tears, implored heaven to give her 
 a child. But the gift had been denied; and her heart had 
 shrunk and grown heavily calloused. 
 
 Then she spoke more gently, and there was that in her voice 
 which stirred the girl's quick sympathy. "Yes, you have 
 youth, and beauty. They are mine no longer. But I could 
 part with them, gladly, if only there were anything left." 
 
 Carmen instantly rose and went swiftly to her. Forgetful 
 of caste, decorum, convention, everything ' but the . boundless 
 love which she felt for all mankind, she put her arms about 
 the worldly woman's neck and kissed her. 
 
 For a moment the Beaubien sat in speechless surprise. It 
 was the only manifestation of selfless love that had ever come 
 into her sordid experience. Was it possible that this was 
 spontaneous? that it was an act of real sympathy, and not a 
 clever ruse to win her from behind the mask of affection? 
 Her own kisses, she knew, were bestowed only for favors. 
 Alas! they drew not many now, although time was when 
 a single one might win a brooch or a string of pearls. 
 
 The girl herself quickly met the woman's groping thought. 
 "I'm in the world to show what love will do," she murmured; 
 "and I love you." Had she not thus solved every problem from 
 earliest childhood? 
 
 The Beaubien melted. Not even a heart of stone could 
 withstand the solvent power of such love. Her head dropped 
 upon her breast, and she wept. 
 
 "Don't cry," said Carmen, tenderly caressing the bepow- 
 dered cheek. "Why, we are all God's children; we all have 
 one another; you have me, and I have you; and God means 
 us all to be happy." 
 
 The Beaubien looked up, wondering. Her variegated life 
 included no such tender experience as this. She had long since 
 ceased to shed aught but tears of anger. But now — 
 
 She clutched the girl to her and kissed her eagerly; then 
 
 74 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 gently motioned her back to her chair. "Don't mind it," she 
 smiled, with swimming eyes, and a shade of embarrassment. 
 "I don't know of anything that would help me as much as a 
 good cry. If I could have had a daughter like you, I should 
 — but never mind now." She tried to laugh, as she wiped 
 her eyes. 
 
 Then an idea seemed to flash through her jaded brain, and 
 she became suddenly animated. "Why — listen," she said; 
 "don't you want to learn the pipe-organ? Will you come here 
 and take lessons? I will pay for them; I will engage the best 
 teacher in New York; and you shall take two or three a week, 
 and use the big organ out in the hall. Will you?" 
 
 Carmen's heart gave a great leap. "Oh!" she exclaimed, 
 her eyes dancing. "But I must ask Mrs. Reed, you know." 
 
 "I'll do it myself," returned the woman with growing en- 
 thusiasm. "William," she directed, when the butler responded 
 to her summons, "get Mrs. Hawley-Crowles on the wire at once. 
 But who is coming, I wonder?" glancing through the window 
 at an automobile that had drawn up at her door. "Humph!" a 
 look of vexation mantling her face, "the Right Reverend Mon- 
 signor Lafelle. Well," turning to Carmen, "I suppose I'll have 
 to send you home now, dear. But tell Mrs. Hawley-Crowles _ 
 that I shall call for you to-morrow afternoon, and that I shall 
 speak to her at that time about your music lessons. William, 
 take Monsignor into the morning room, and then tell Henri to 
 bring the car to the porte-cochere for Miss Carmen. Good-bye, 
 dear," kissing the bright, upturned face of the waiting girl. 
 "I wish I could — but, well, don't forget that I'm coming for you 
 to-morrow." 
 
 That afternoon Mrs. Hawley-Crowles directed her French 
 tailor to cable to Paris for advance styles. Twenty-four hours 
 later she hastened with outstretched arms to greet the Beau- 
 bien, waiting in the reception room. Oh, yes, they had heard 
 often of each other; and now were so pleased to meet! New 
 York was such a whirlpool, and it was so difficult to form 
 desirable friendships. Yes, the Beaubien had known the late- 
 lamented Hawley-Crowles; but, dear! dear! that was years and 
 years ago, before he had married, and when they were both 
 young and foolish. And — 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, chance enabled him and 
 me to be mutually helpful at a time when I was in sore need of 
 a friend; and the debt of gratitude is not yours to me, but mine 
 to your kind husband." 
 
 Mrs. Hawley-Crowles could have hugged her on the spot. 
 What cared she that her husband's always unsavory name 
 had been linked with this woman's? She had married the 
 
 75 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 roistering blade for his bank account only. Any other male 
 whose wealth ran into seven figures would have done as well, 
 or better. 
 
 And Carmen? Bless you, no! To be sure, Mrs. Hawley- 
 Crowles gratefully accepted the use of the organ and the Beau- 
 bien mansion for the girl; but she herself insisted upon bearing 
 the expense of the lessons. Carmen had wonderful musical 
 talent. Together, she and the Beaubien, they would foster and 
 develop it. Moreover, though of cojirse this must follow later, 
 she intended to give the girl every social advantage befitting 
 her beauty, her talents, and her station. 
 
 And then, when the Beaubien, who. knew to a second just 
 how long to stay, had departed, taking Carmen with her, Mrs. 
 Hawley-Crowles turned to her sister with her face flushed with 
 anger. "Did you see that?" she exclaimed, while hot tears 
 suflused her eyes. "The hussy went away actually laughing 
 at me! What do you suppose she's got up her sleeve? But, 
 let me tell you, she'll not fool me ! I'll slap that arrogant Ames 
 woman yet; and then, when I've done that, I'll give the Beau- 
 bien something to think about besides the way she did up poor 
 old Jim!" 
 
 * V « « « V 
 
 There was now but one cloud that cast its dark shadow 
 across the full splendor of Carmen's happiness, the silence that 
 shrouded Simiti. But Harris was preparing to return to Co- 
 lombia, and his trip promised a solution of the mystery of her 
 unanswered letters. For weeks Carmen had struggled to teach 
 him Spanish, with but small measure of success. The gift of 
 tongues was not his. "You'll have to go back with me and 
 act as interpreter," he said one day, when they were alone in 
 the Hawley-Crowles parlor. Then a curious light came into 
 his eyes, and he blurted, "Will you?" 
 
 But the girl turned the question aside with a laugh, though 
 she knew not from what depths it had sprung. Harris shrugged 
 his broad shoulders and sighed. He had not a hundred dollars 
 to his name. 
 
 Yet he had prospects, not the least of which was the interest 
 he shared with Reed in La Libertad. For, despite the disturbed 
 state of affairs in Colombia, Simiti stock had sold rapidly, 
 under the sedulous care of Ketchim and his loyal aids, and a 
 sufiBcient fund had been accumulated to warrant the insiugura- 
 tion of development work on the mine. A few years hence 
 Harris should be rich from that source alone. 
 
 Reed was still in California, although the alluring literature 
 which Ketchim was scattering broadcast bore his name as con- 
 sulting engineer to the Simiti Development Company. His 
 
 76 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ■wife had continued her temporary abode in the Hawley- 
 Crowles mansion, while awaiting with what fortitude she could 
 command the passing of her still vigorous father, and the re- 
 sults, of her defiant sister's assaults upon the Ames set. 
 
 Carmen's days were crowded full. The wonderful organ in 
 the Beaubien mansion had cast a spell of enchantment over 
 her soul, and daily she sat before it, uncovering new marvels 
 and losing herself deeper and deeper in its infinite mysteries. 
 Her progress was commensurate with her consecration, and 
 brought exclamations of astonishment to the lips of her now 
 devoted Beaubien. Hour after hour the latter would sit in the 
 twilight of the great hall, with her eyes fastened upon the 
 absorbed girl, and her leaden soul slowly, painfully struggling to 
 lift itself above the murk and dross in which it had lain buried 
 for long, meaningless years. They now talked but little, this 
 strange woman and the equally strange girl. Their communion 
 was no longer of the lips. It was the silent yearning of a dry, 
 desolate heart, striving to open itself to the love which the 
 girl was sending far and wide in the quenchless hope that it 
 might meet just such a need. For Carmen dwelt in the spirit, 
 and she instinctively accepted her splendid material environ- 
 ment as the gift, not of man, but of the great divine Mind, which 
 had led her into this new world that she might be a channel 
 for the expression of its love to the erring children of mortals. 
 
 She came and went quietly, and yet with as much confi- 
 dence as if the house belonged to her. At first the Beaubien 
 smiled indulgently. And then her smile became a laugh of 
 eager joy as she daily greeted her radiant visitor, whose en- 
 trance into the great, dark house was always followed by a flood 
 of sunshine, and whose departure marked the setting in of 
 night to the heart-hungry woman. In the first days of their 
 association the Beaubien could turn easily from the beautiful 
 girl to the group of cold, scheming men of the world who filled 
 her evenings and sat about her board. But as days melted into 
 weeks, she became dimly conscious of an effort attaching to the 
 transition; and the hour at length arrived when she fully 
 realized that she was facing the most momentous decision that 
 had ever been evolved by her worldly mode of living. But that 
 was a. matter of slow development through many months. 
 
 Meantime, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles trod the clouds. A week 
 after Carmen began the study of the organ she boldly ventured 
 to accompany her one day to the Beaubien citadel. She was 
 graciously received, and departed with the Beaubien's promise 
 to return the call. Thereupon she set about revising her own 
 social list, and dropped several names which she now felt 
 could serve her no longer. Her week-end at Newport, just 
 
 3» 77 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 prior to her visit to the Elwin school, had marked the close of 
 the gay season in the city, and New York had entered fully 
 upon its summer siesta. Even the theaters and concert halls 
 were closed, and the metropolis was nodding its weary head 
 dully and sinking into somnolence. It was exactly what Mrs. 
 Hawley-Crowles desired. The summer interim would give her 
 time to further her plans and prepare the girl for her social 
 dSbut in the early winter. "And Milady Ames will be men- 
 tioned in the papers next day as assisting at the function — the 
 cat!" she muttered savagely, as she laid aside her revised list 
 of social desirables. 
 
 But in preparing Carmen that summer for her subsequent 
 entry into polite society Mrs. Hawley-Crowles soon realized that 
 she had assumed a task of generous proportions. In the first 
 place, despite all efforts, the girl could not be brought to a 
 proper sense of money values. Her eyes were ever gaping in 
 astonishment at what Mrs. Hawley-Crowles and her sister 
 regarded as the most moderate of expenditures, and it was 
 only when the Beaubien herself mildly hinted to them that 
 ingenuousness was one of the girl's greatest social assets, that 
 they learned to smile indulgently at her wonder, even while in- 
 wardly pitying her dense ignorance and lack of sophistication. 
 
 A second source of trial to her guardians was her delicate 
 sense of honor; and it was this that one day nearly sufficed 
 to wreck their standing with the fashionable Mrs. Gannette of 
 Riverside Drive, a pompous, bepowdered, curled and scented 
 dame, anaemic of mind, but tremendously aristocratic, and of 
 scarcely inferior social dignity to that of the envied Mrs. Ames. 
 For, when Mrs. Gannette moved into the neighborhood where 
 dwelt the ambitious Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, the latter was taken 
 by a mutual acquaintance to call upon her, and was imme- 
 diately received into the worldly old lady's good graces; And 
 it so happened that, sifter the gay season had closed that 
 summer, Mrs. Gannette invited Mrs. Hawley-Crowles and her 
 sister to an informal afternoon of bridge, and especially re- 
 quested that they bring their young ward, whose beauty and 
 wonderful story were, through the discreet maneuvers of her 
 guardians, beginning to be talked about. For some weeks pre- 
 viously Mrs. Hawley-Crowles had been inducting Carmen into 
 the mysteries of the game; but with indifferent success, for' 
 the girl's thoughts invariably were elsewhere engaged. On this 
 particular afternoon Carmen was lost in contemplation of the 
 gorgeous dress, the lavish display of jewelry, and the general 
 inanity of conversation; and her score was pitiably low. The 
 following morning, to her great astonishment, she received !a 
 bill from the practical Mrs. Gannette for ten dollars to cover 
 
 78 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 her losses at the game. For a long time the bewildered girl 
 mused over it. Then she called the chauffeur and despatched 
 him to the Gannette mansion with the money necessary to 
 meet the gambling debt, and three dollars additional to pay 
 for the refreshments she had eaten, accompanying it with a 
 polite little note of explanation. 
 
 The result was an explosion that nearly lifted the asphalt 
 from the Drive; and Carmen, covered with tears and confusion, 
 was given to understand by the irate Mrs. Hawley-Crowles 
 that her conduct was as reprehensible as if she had attacked 
 the eminent Mrs. Gannette with an axe. Whereupon the sor- 
 rowing Carmen packed her effects and prepared to depart from 
 the presence of Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, to the terrified consterna- 
 tion of the latter, who alternately prostrated herself before the 
 girl and the offended Mrs. Gannette, and at length, after many 
 days of perspiring effort and voluminous explanation, suc- 
 ceeded in restoring peace. 
 
 When the Beaubien, who had become the girl's confidante, 
 learned the story, she laughed till her sides ached. And then 
 her lips set, and her face grew terribly hard, and she muttered, 
 "Fools!" But she smiled again as she gathered the penitent 
 girl in her arms, and kissed her. 
 
 "You will learn many things, dearie, before you are through 
 with New York. And," she added, her brow again clouding, 
 "you will be through with it — some day!" 
 
 That evening she repeated the. story at her table, and Gan- 
 nette, who happened to be present, swore between roars of 
 laughter that he would use it as a club over his wife, should she 
 ever again trap him in any of his numerous indiscretions. 
 
 Again, the girl's odd views of life and its meaning which, 
 despite her efforts, she could not refrain from voicing now 
 and then, caused the worldly Mrs. Hawley-Crowles much con- 
 sternation. Carmen tried desperately to be discreet. Even 
 Harris advised her to listen much, but say little ; and she strove 
 hard to obey. But she would forget and hurl the newspapers 
 from her with exclamations of horror over their red-inked 
 depictions of mortal frailty — she would flatly refuse to dis- 
 cuss crime or disease — ^and she would comment disparagingly 
 at too frequent intervals on the littleness of human aims and 
 the emptiness of the peacock-life which she saw manifested 
 about her. "I don't understand — I can't," she would say, when 
 she was alone with the Beaubien. "Why, with the wonderful 
 opportunities which you rich people have, how can you — oh, 
 how can you toss them aside for the frivolities and littleness 
 that you all seem to be striving for ! It seems to me you mus'- 
 be mad — loco! And I know you are, for you are simply mes- 
 merized!" 
 
 79 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 Then the Beaubien would smile knowingly and take her in 
 her arms. "We shall see," she would often say, "we shall see." 
 But she would offer no further comment. 
 
 Thus the summer months sped swiftly past, with Carmen 
 ever looking and listening, receiving, sifting, in, but not of, the 
 new world into which she had been cast. In a sense her exist- 
 ence was as narrowly routined as ever it had been in Simiti, 
 for her days were spent at the great organ, with frequent rides 
 in the automobile through the parks and boulevards for varia- 
 tion; and her evenings were jealously guarded by Mrs. Hawley- 
 Crowles, whose policy was to keep the girl in seclusion until 
 the advent of her formal introduction to the world of fashiona- 
 ble society, when her associates would be selected only from the 
 narrow circle of moneyed or titled people with whom alone 
 she might mingle. To permit her to form promiscuous ac- 
 quaintances now might prove fatal to the scheming woman's 
 cherished plans, and was a risk that could not be entertained. 
 And Carmen, suppressing her wonder, and striving incessantly 
 to curb her ready tongue, accepted her environment as the 
 unreal expression of the human mind, and submitted — and 
 waited. 
 
 CHAPTER 10 
 
 THE chill blasts had begun to swoop down from the frozen 
 North, and summer had gathered her dainty robes about 
 her and fled shivering before them. Mrs. Hawley-Crowles 
 stood at a window and gazed with unseeing eyes at the withered 
 leaves tossing in the wind. 
 
 Carmen's sixteenth birthday was past by some months; the 
 gay season was at hand; and the day was speeding toward her 
 which she had set for the girl's formal debut. Already, through 
 informal calls and gatherings, she had made her charming and 
 submissive ward known to most of her own city acquaintances 
 and the members of her particular set. ■ The fresh, beautiful 
 girl's winning personality; her frank, ingenuous manner; her 
 evident sincerity and her naive remarks, which now only gave 
 hints of her radical views, had opened every heart wide to her, 
 and before the advent of the social season her wonderful story 
 was on everybody's tongue. There remained now only the 
 part which the woman had planned for the Beaubien, but which, 
 thus far, she had found neither the courage nor the oppor- 
 tunity to suggest to that influential woman. Gazing out into 
 the deserted street, she stamped her ample foot in sheer vexa- 
 tion. The Beaubien had absorbed Carmen; had been politely 
 
 80 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 affable to her and her sister; had called twice during the sum- 
 mer; and had said nothing. But what was there for her to 
 say? The hint must come from the other side; and Mrs. 
 Hawley-Crowles could have wept with chagrin as she reflected 
 gloomily on her own timorous spirit. 
 
 But as she stood in dejection before the window a vague 
 idea flitted into her brain, and she clutched at it desperately. 
 Carmen had spoken of the frequent calls of a certain Monsignor 
 Lafelle at the Beaubien mansion, although the girl had never 
 met him. Now why did he go there? "Humph!" muttered Mrs. 
 Hawley-Crowles. "Old Gaspard de Beaubien was a French 
 Catholic." 
 
 But what had that to do with Carmen? Nothing — except — 
 why, to be sure, the girl came from a Catholic country, and 
 therefore was a Catholic! Mrs. Hawley-Crowles chuckled. 
 That was worth developing a little further. "Let us see," she 
 reflected, "Kathleen Ames is coming out this winter, too. Just 
 about Carmen's age. Candidate for her mother's social position, 
 of course. Now the Ames family are all Presbyterians. The 
 Reverend Darius Borwell, D. D., L.L. D., and any other D. that 
 will keep him glued to his ten-thousand-dollar salary, hooked 
 fhem early in the game. Now suppose — suppose Lafelle should 
 tell the Beaubien that — that there's — no, that won't do! But 
 suppose I tell him that here's a chance for him to back a Catho- 
 lic against a Protestant for the highest social honors in New 
 York — Carmen versus Kathleen — ^what would he say? Humph! 
 I'm just as good a Catholic as Protestant. Jim was Irish — 
 clear through. And Catholic, Methodist, or Hard-shell Baptist, 
 as suited his needs. He played 'em all. Suppose I should tip 
 it off to Lafelle that I'm smitten with the pious intention of 
 donating an altar to Holy Saints Cathedral in memory of my 
 late, unlamented consort — what then? It's worth considering, 
 anyway. Yes, it's not a bad idea at all." 
 
 And thus it was that a few days later Mrs. Hawley-Crowles 
 timed it so carefully that she chanced to call on the Beaubien 
 with Carmen shortly after Monsignor Lafelle's car had pulled, 
 up at the same door. It was the merest accident, too, that 
 Carmen led her pufBng guardian directly into the morning 
 room, where sat the Beaubien and Monsignor in earnest con- 
 versation. Mrs. Hawley-Crowles would have retired at once, 
 stammering apologies, and reprimanding- Carmen- for her as- 
 sumption of liberties in another's house; but the Beaubien was 
 grace and cordiality itself, and she insisted on retaining her 
 three callers and making them mutually acquainted. 
 
 With the ice thus broken, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles found it 
 easy to take the contemplated plunge. Therefore she smiled 
 
 81 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 triumphantly when, a week later, Monsignor Lafelle alighted 
 at her own door, in response to a summons on matters pertain- 
 ing to the Church. 
 
 "But, Madam," replied the holy man, after carefully listening 
 to her announcement, "I can only refer the matter to the Bish- 
 op. I am not connected with this diocese. I am traveling al- 
 most constantly. But I shall be most pleased to lay it before 
 him, with my endorsement." 
 
 "As you say, Monsignor," sweetly responded the gracious 
 Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. "I sought your advice because I had 
 met you through my dear friend. Madam Beaubien." 
 
 "It has been a great pleasure to know you and to be of 
 service to you. Madam," said Monsignor, rising to depart. 
 "But," he added with a tender smile, "a pleasure that would 
 be enhanced were you to become one of us." 
 
 Mrs. Hawley-Crowles knew that at last the time had come. 
 "A moment, please, Monsignor," she said, her heart beating 
 quickly. "There is anothec matter. Please be seated. It con- 
 cerns my ward, the young girl whom you met at Madam Beau- 
 bien's." 
 
 "Ah, indeed!" said the man, resuming his seat. "A beauti- 
 ful girl." 
 
 "Yes!" returned Mrs. Hawley-Crowles enthusiastically. 
 "And just budding into still more beautiful womanhood." She 
 stopped and reflected a moment. Then she threw herself pre- 
 cipitately into her topic, as if she feared further delay would 
 result in the evaporation of her boldness. "Monsignor, it is, as 
 you say, unfortunate that I profess no religious convictions; 
 and yet, as I have told you, I find that as the years pass I lean 
 ever more strongly toward your Church. Now you vvill pardon 
 me when I say that I am sure it is the avowed intention to make 
 America dominantly Catholic that brings you to this country 
 to work toward that end — is it not so?" 
 
 The man's handsome face lighted up pleasantly, but he did 
 not reply. The woman went on without waiting. 
 
 "Now, Monsignor, I am going to be terribly frank; and if 
 you disapprove of what I suggest, we will both forget that the 
 matter was ever under discussion. To begin with, I heartily 
 endorse your missionary efforts in this godless country of ours. 
 Nothing but the strong arm of the Catholic Church, it seems 
 to me, can check our headlong plunge into ruin. But, Mon- 
 signor, you do not always work where your labors are most 
 needed. You may control political — " 
 
 "My dear lady," interrupted the man, holding up a hand 
 and shaking his head in gentle demurral, "the Catholic Church 
 is not in politics." 
 
 82 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "But it is in society — or should be!" said the woman ear- 
 nestly. "And if the Catholic Church is to be supreme in 
 America it must work from the top down, as well as from the 
 lower levels upward. At present our wealthiest, most influen- 
 tial social set is absolutely domineered by a Protestant — and 
 under the influence of a Presbyterian minister at that! Why 
 do you permit it?" 
 
 Monsignor Lafelle's eyes twinkled, as he listened politely. 
 But he only stroked the white hair that crowned his shapely 
 head, and waited. 
 
 "Monsignor," continued the now thoroughly heated Mrs. 
 Hawley-Crowles, "why do not the women of your Church con- 
 stitute our society leaders? Why do you not recognize the de- 
 sirability of forcing your people into every avenue of human 
 activity?- And would you resent a suggestion from me as to 
 how in one instance this might be accomplished?" 
 
 "Certainly not, Madam," replied Monsignor, with an ex- 
 pression of wonder on his face. "Pray proceed." 
 
 "You are laughing at me, I do believe!" she exclaimed, 
 catching the glint in his gray eyes. 
 
 "Pardon me, dear lady, I really am deeply interested. Please 
 go on." 
 
 "Well, at any rate I have your promise to forget this con- 
 versation if you do not approve of it," she said quizzically. 
 
 He nodded his head to inspire her confidence; and she 
 continued: 
 
 "Very well, now to the point. My ward, the little Inca 
 princess, is coming out shortly. I want her to have the entrie 
 into the very best society, into the most fashionable and ex- 
 clusive set, as befitting her rank." She stopped and awaited 
 the effect of her words. 
 
 Monsignor studied her for a moment, and then broke into 
 a genial laugh. "There is nothing reprehensible in your wish, 
 Madam," he said. "Our social system, however imperfect, 
 nevertheless exists, and — dominant Catholic influence might 
 improve it. I am quite sure it would." 
 
 "Good!" exclaimed Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. "Then will you 
 help me?" 
 
 "Why, I really see nothing that I can do," he replied slowly. 
 
 Mrs. Hawley-Crowles was becoming exasperated with his 
 apparent dullness. "You can do much," she retorted in a tone 
 tinctured with impatience. "Since I have made you my Father 
 Confessor to-day, I am going to tell you that I intend to start a 
 social war that will rip this city wide open. It is going to be 
 war in which Catholic is pitted against Protestant; Now, which 
 side is your Church on?" 
 
 83 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 For a moment her blunt question startled him, and he 
 stared at her uncomprehendingly; but he quickly recovered his 
 poise and replied calmly, "Neither, Madam; it remains quite 
 neutral." 
 
 "What!" she exclaimed. "Aren't you interested?" 
 
 "Pardon me if I say it; not at all." 
 
 "Oh!" she murmured, her eagerness subsiding. "Then I've 
 made an awful mistake!" 
 
 "No," he amended gently, "you have made a good friend. 
 And, as such, I again urge you first to respect the leaning 
 which you mentioned a moment ago and become actively affil- 
 iated with our Church here in New York. Both you and the 
 young lady. Will you not consider it?" 
 
 "Certainly I will consider it," she responded, brightening 
 with hope. "And I will go so far as to say that I have long had 
 it in mind." 
 
 "Then, Madam, when that is accomplished, we may discuss 
 the less important matter of your ward's entrance into society — 
 is it not so?" 
 
 Mrs. Hawley-Crowles rose, completely discomfited. "But 
 the girl, Monsignor, is already a Catholic — comes from a Catho- 
 lic country. It is she whom I am pitting against the Prot- 
 estant." 
 
 "And you will efface yourself?" he queried with a peculiar 
 smile. 
 
 "You are cruel," she retorted, affecting an air of injured 
 innocence as she stood before him with downcast eyes. "But — 
 if you — " 
 
 "Madam," said Monsignor, "plainly, what is it that you 
 wish me to do?" 
 
 The sudden propounding of the question drew an equally 
 sudden but less thoughtful response. 
 
 "Tell the Beau — Madam Beaubien that you wish my ward 
 to be received into the best society, and for the reasons I have 
 given you. That's all." 
 
 "And is my influence with Madam Beaubien, and hers with 
 the members of fashionable society, sufficient to effect that?" 
 he asked, an odd look coming into his eyes. 
 
 "She has but to say the word to J. Wilton Ames, and his 
 wife will receive us both," said the woman, carried away by 
 her eagerness. "And that means strong Catholic influence in 
 New York's most aristocratic set !" 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 "Monsignor," continued the woman eagerly, "will your 
 Church receive an altar from me in memory of my late hus- 
 band?" 
 
 84 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 He reflected a moment. Then, slowly, and in a low, earnest 
 tone, "It would receive such a gift from one of the faith. When 
 may we expect you to become a communicant?" 
 
 The woman paled, and her heart suddenly chilled. She had 
 wondered how far she might go with this clever churchman, 
 and now she knew that she had gone too far. But to retract — 
 to have him relate this conversation and her retraction to the 
 Beaubien — were fatal ! She had set her trap — and walked into 
 it. She groped blindly for an answer. Then, raising her eyes 
 and meeting his searching glance, she murmured feebly, 
 "Whenever you say, Monsignor." 
 
 When the man had departed, which he did immediately, 
 the plotting woman threw herself upon the davenport and wept 
 with rage. "Belle," she wailed, as her wondering sister entered 
 the room, "I'm going to join the Catholic Church! But I'd go 
 through Sheol to beat that Ames outfit!" 
 
 CHAPTER 11 
 
 MONSIGNOR LAFELLE made another afternoon call on 
 the Beaubien a few days later. That lady, fresh 
 from her bath, scented, powdered, and charming in a 
 loose, flowing Mandarin robe, received him graciously. 
 
 "But I can give you only a moment, Monsignor," she said, 
 waving him to a chair, while she stooped and tenderly took up 
 the two spaniels. "I have a dinner to-night, and so shall not 
 listen unless you have something fresh and really worth while 
 to offer." 
 
 "My dear Madam," said he, bowing low before he sank into 
 the great leather armchair, "you are charming, and the Church 
 is justly proud of you." 
 
 "Trit, tut, my friend," she returned, knitting her brows. 
 "That may be fresh, I admit, but not worth listening to. And 
 if you persist in that vein I shall be obliged to have William set 
 you into the street." 
 
 "I can not apologize for voicing the truth, dear Madam," he 
 replied, as his eyes roved admiringly over her comely figure. 
 "The Church has never ceased to claim you, however far you 
 may have wandered- from her. But I will be brief. I am leav- 
 ing for Canada shortly on a mission of some importance. May 
 I not take with me the consoling assurance that you have at 
 last heard and yielded to the call of the tender Mother, who 
 has never ceased to yearn for her beautiful, wayward daugh- 
 ter?" 
 
 85 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The Beaubien smiled indulgently. "There," she said gently, 
 "I thought that was it. No, Monsignor, no," shaking her head. 
 "When only a wild, thoughtless girl I became a Catholic in order 
 that I might marry Gaspard de Beaubien. The priest urged; 
 and I — ^poof! what cared I? But the past eighteen years have 
 confirmed me in some views; and one is that I shall gain noth- 
 ing, either here or hereafter, by renewing my allegiance to the 
 Church of Rome." 
 
 Monsignor sighed, and stroked his abundant white hair. 
 Yet his sigh bore a hope. "I learned this morning," he said 
 musingly, "that my recent labors with the Dowager Duchess 
 of Altern in England have not been vain. She has become a 
 communicant of Holy Church." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed the Beaubien. "The Diichess of Altern 
 — sister of Mrs. J. Wilton Ames? Why, she was a high Angli- 
 can—" 
 
 "Only a degree below the true Church, Madam. Her action 
 is but anticipatory of a sweeping return of the entire Anglican 
 Church to the true fold. . And I learn further," he went on, 
 "that the Duchess will spend the winter in New York with her 
 sister. Which means, of course, an unusually gay season here, 
 does it not?" 
 
 The Beaubien quickly recovered from hM* astonishment. 
 "Well, Monsignor," she laughed, "for once you really are in- 
 teresting. What else have you to divulge? That Mrs. Ames 
 herself will be the next convert? Or perhaps J. Wilton?" 
 
 "No — at least, not yet. But one of your most intimate 
 friends will become a communicant of Holy Saints next Sun- 
 day." 
 
 "One of my most intimate friends!" The Beaubien set the 
 spaniels down on the floor. "Now, my dear Monsignor, you are 
 positively refreshing. Who is he?" 
 
 The man laughed softly. "Am I not right when I insist that 
 you have wandered far, dear Madam? It is not 'he,' but 'she,' 
 your dear friend, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles." 
 
 The Beaubien's mouth opened wide and she sat suddenly 
 upright and gazed blankly at her raconteur. The man went on, 
 apparently oblivious of the effect his information had pro- 
 duced. "Her beautiful ward, who is to make her bow to society 
 this winter, is one of us by birth." 
 
 "Then you have been at work on Mrs. -Hawley-Crowles and 
 her ward, have you?" said the Beaubien severely, and there was 
 a threatening note in her voice. 
 
 "Why," returned Monsignor easily, "the lady sent for me 
 to express her desire to become affiliated with the Church. We 
 do not seek her. And I have had no conversation with the 
 girl, I assure you." 
 
 86 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The Beaubien reflected. Then: 
 
 "Will you tell me why, Monsignor, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles 
 takes this unusual step?" 
 
 "Unusual! Is it unusual, Madam, for a woman who has 
 seen much of the world to turn from it to the solace and prom- 
 ise of the Church?" 
 
 The Beaubien laughed sharply. "For women like Mrs. 
 Hawley-Crowles it is, decidedly. What was her price, Mon- 
 signor?" 
 
 "Madam! You astonish me!" 
 
 "Monsignor, I do not. I know Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. And 
 by this time you do, too. She is the last woman in the world 
 to turn from it." 
 
 "But the question you have just propounded reflects seri- 
 ously upon both the Church and me — " 
 
 "Bah!" interjected the Beaubien, her eyes flashing. "Wait," 
 she commanded imperiously, as he rose. "I have a few things 
 to say. to you, since this is to be your last call." 
 
 "Madam, not the last, I hope. For I shall not cease to plead 
 the cause of the Church to you — " 
 
 "Surely, Monsignor, that is your business. You are welcome 
 in my house at any time, and particularly when you have such 
 delightful scraps of gossip as these which you have brought 
 to-day. But, a word before you go, lest you become indiscreet 
 on your return. Play Mrs. Hawley-Crowles to any extent you 
 wish, but let her ward alone — absolutely! She is not for you." 
 
 The cold, even tone in which the woman said this left no 
 doubt in the man's mind of her meaning. She was not trifling 
 with him now, he knew. In her low-voiced words he found no 
 trace of banter, of sophistry, nor of aught that he might in any 
 wise misinterpret. 
 
 "Now, Monsignor, I have some influence in New York, as 
 you may possibly know. Will you admit that I can do much 
 for or against you? Drop your mask, therefore, and tell me 
 frankly just what has induced Mrs. Hawley-Crowles to unite 
 with your Church." 
 
 The man knew he was pitting his own against a master 
 mind. He hesitated and weighed well his words before reply- 
 ing. "Madam," said he at length, with a note of reproach, "you 
 misjudge the lady, the Church, and me, its humble servant. 
 The latter require no defense. As for Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, I 
 speak truly when I say that doubtless she has been greatly in- 
 fluenced by love for her late husband." 
 
 "What!" The Beaubien half rose from her chair. "Jim 
 Crowles — that raw, Irish boob, who was holding down a job on 
 the police force until Ames found he could make a convenient 
 
 87 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 tool of him ! The man who was Gannette's cat's-paw in the Fall 
 River franchise steal! Now, Monsignor, would you have me 
 believe you devoid of all sense?" 
 
 "But," ejaculated the man, now becoming exasperated, and 
 for the moment so losing his self-control as to make wretched 
 use of his facts, "she is erecting an altar in Holy Saints as a 
 memorial to him!" 
 
 "Heavens above!" The Beaubien sank back limp. 
 
 Monsignor Lafelle again made as if to rise. He felt that he 
 was guilty of a miserable faux pas. "Madam, I regret that I 
 must be leaving. But the hour — " 
 
 "Stay, Monsignor!" The Beaubien roused up and laid a 
 detaining hand upon his arm. "Our versatile friend, what 
 other projects has she in hand? What is she planning for her 
 young ward?" 
 
 "Why, really,.! can not say — ^beyond the fact that the girl 
 is to be introduced to society this winter." 
 
 "Humph! Going to make a try for the Ames set?" 
 
 "That, I believe, Madam, would be useless without your aid." 
 
 "Did Mrs. Hawley-Crowles say so, Monsignor?" demanded 
 the woman, leaning forward eagerly. 
 
 "Why, I believe I am not abusing her confidence when I 
 say that she intimated as much," he said, watching her closely 
 and sparring now with better judgment. "She mentioned Mrs. 
 Ames as New York's fashionable society leader — " 
 
 "There is no such position as leader in New York society, 
 Monsignor," interrupted the Beaubien coldly. "There are sets 
 and cliques, and Mrs. Ames happens to be prominent in the 
 one which at present foolishly imagines it constitutes the upper 
 stratum. Rot! And Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, with nothing but 
 a tarnished name and a large bank account to recommend her, 
 now wishes to break into that clique and attain social leader- 
 ship, does she? How decidedly interesting!" 
 
 Then the. woman's eyes narrowed and grew hard. Leaning 
 closer to the churchman, she rested the tip of her finger on his 
 knee. "So, Monsignor," she said, with cold precision, "this is 
 Mrs. Hawley-Crowles's method of renouncing the world, is it? 
 Sublime! And she would use both you and me, eh? And you 
 are her ambassador at the court of the Beaubien? Very well, 
 then, she shall use us. But you and I will first make this com- 
 pact, my dear Monsignor: Mrs. Hawley-Growles shall be taken 
 into the so-called 'Ames set,' and you shall cease importuning 
 me to return to your.Church, and what is more, shall promise to 
 have no conversation on church matters with her ward, the 
 young girl. If you do not agree to this, Monsignor, I shall set in 
 motion forces that will make your return to New York quite 
 
 88 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 undesirable." When she concluded, she looked long and 
 steadily into his eyes. 
 
 Monsignor got- slowly to his feet. "Madam!" he exclaimed 
 in a hoarse whisper, "my astonishment^ — " 
 
 "There," she said calmly, as she rose and took his hand, 
 "please omit the dramatics, Monsignor. And now you must go, 
 for to-night I entertain, and I have already given you more 
 time than I intended. But, Monsignor, do you in future work 
 with or against me? Are we to be friends or enemies?" 
 
 "Why, Madam," he replied quickly, "we could never be the 
 latter!" 
 
 "And you always respect the wishes of a friend, especially 
 if she is a lady, do you not?" 
 
 "Always, Madam," he returned after a moment's hesita- 
 tion, as he bowed low over her hand. 
 
 "Then, good-bye. And, Monsignor," she added, when he 
 reached the door, "I shall be pleased to attend the dedication 
 of the Hawley-Crowles altar." 
 
 When Monsignor's car glided away from her door the Beau- 
 bien's face grew dark, and her eyes drew to narrow slits. "So," 
 she reflected, as she entered the elevator to mount to her dress- 
 ing room, "that is her game, is it? The poor, fat simpleton has 
 no interest in either the girl or myself, other than to use uS as 
 stepping-stones. She forgets that a stone sometimes turns 
 under the foot. Fool!" 
 
 • She entered her room and rang for her maid. Turning to 
 the pier glass, she threw on the electric light and scrutinized 
 her features narrowly. "It's going," she murmured, "fast! 
 God, how I hate those gray hairs! Oh, what a farce life is — 
 what a howling, mocking farce ! I hate it ! I hate everything — 
 everybody ! No — that little girl — if it is possible for me to love, 
 I love her." 
 
 She sank into an easy chair. "I wonder what it is she does 
 to me. I'm hypnotized, I guess. Anyhow, I'm different when 
 I'm with her. And to think that Hawley-Crowles would sacri- 
 fice the child — humph! But, if the girl is made of the right 
 stuff — and I know she is — she will stand up under it and be 
 stronger for the experience. She has got something that will 
 make her stand ! I once asked her what she had that I didn't, 
 and now I know — it is her religion, the religion that Borwell 
 and Lafelle and the whole kit of preachers and priests would 
 corrupt if they had half a chance ! Very well, we'll see what it 
 does under the test. If it saves her, then I want it myself. But, 
 as for that little pin-headed Hawley-Crowles, she's already 
 signed her own death-warrant. She shall get into the Ames 
 set, yes. And I will use her, oh, beautifully! to pay off certain 
 
 89 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 old scores against Madam Ames — ^and then I'll crush her like a 
 dried leaf, the fat fool!" 
 
 The Beaubien's position was, to say the least, peculiar, and 
 one which required infinite tact on her part to protect. It was 
 for that reason that the decorum which prevailed at her din- 
 ners was so rigidly observed, and that, whatever the moral 
 status of the man who sat at her board, his conduct was re- 
 quired to be above reproach, on penalty of immediate ejection 
 from the circle of financial pirates, captains of commercial 
 jugglery, and political intriguers who made these feasts op- 
 portunities for outlining their predatory campaigns against that 
 most anomalous of creatures, the common citizen. 
 
 It was about this table, at whose head always sat the richly 
 gowned Beaubien, that the inner circle of financial kings had 
 gathered almost nightly for years to rig the market, determine 
 the price of wheat or cotton, and develop mendacious schemes 
 of stock- jobbery whose golden harvests they could calculate 
 almost to a dollar before launching. As the wealth of this 
 clique of financial manipulators swelled beyond all bounds, so 
 increased their power, until at last it could be justly said that, 
 when Ames began to dominate the Stock Exchange, the Beau- 
 bien practically controlled Wall Street — and, therefore, in a 
 sense, Washington itself. But always with a tenure of control 
 dubiously dependent upon the caprices of the men who con- 
 tinued to pay homage to her personal charm and keen, powerful 
 intellect. 
 
 At the time of which we speak her power was. at its zenith, 
 and she could with equal impunity decapitate the wealthiest, 
 most aristocratic society dame, or force the door of the most 
 exclusive set for any protegee who might have been kept long 
 years knocking in vain, or whose family name, perchance, 
 headed a list of indictments for gross peculations.- At these 
 unicameral meetings, held in the great, dark, mahogany-wains- 
 coted dining room of the Beaubien mansion, where a single 
 lamp of priceless workmanship threw a flood of light upon 
 the sumptuous table beneath and left the rest of the closely 
 guarded room shrouded in Stygian darkness, plans were laid 
 and decrees adopted which seated judges, silenced clergymen, 
 elected senators, and influenced presidents. There a muck- 
 raking, hostile press was muffled. There business opposition 
 was crushed and competition throttled. There tax rates were 
 determined and tariff schedules formulated. There public 
 opinion was disrupted, character assassinated, and the death- 
 warrant of every threatening reformer drawn and signed. In 
 a word, there Mammon, in the rdle of business, organized and 
 unorganized, legitimate and piratical, sat enthroned, with wires 
 
 90 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 leading into every mart of the world, and into every avenue of 
 human endeavor, be it social, political, commercial, or religious. 
 These wires were gathered together into the hands of one man, 
 the directing genius of the group, J. Wilton Ames. Over him 
 lay the shadow of the Beaubien. 
 
 An hour after the departure of Monsignor Lafelle the Beau- 
 bien, like a radiant sun, descended to the library to greet her 
 assembled guests. Some moments later the heavy doors of 
 the great dining room swung noiselessly open, and the lady 
 proceeded unescorted to her position at the head of the table. 
 At her signal the half dozen men sat down, and" the butler 
 immediately entered, followed by two serving men with the 
 cocktails and the first course. The chair at the far end of the 
 table, opposite the Beaubien, remained unoccupied. 
 
 "Ames is late to-night," observed the girthy Gannette, 
 glancing toward the vacant seat, and clumsily attempting to 
 tuck his napkin into his collar. 
 
 The Beaubien looked sharply at him. "Were you at the 
 club this afternoon, Mr. Gannette?" she inquired coldly. 
 
 Gannette straightened up and became rigid. Pulling the 
 napkin down hastily, he replied in a thick voice, "Just a little 
 game of bridge — some old friends — ^back from Europe—" 
 
 The Beaubien turned to the butler. "William, Mr. Gannette 
 is not drinking wine this evening." The butler bowed and re- 
 moved the glasses from that gentleman's place. 
 
 Gannette turned to expostulate. "Now, Lucile — " he began 
 peevishly. The Beaubien held up a hand. Gannette glowered 
 and sank down in his chair like a swollen toad. 
 
 "May be Ames is trying to break into the C. and R. directors' 
 meeting," suggested Weston, himself a director in a dozen com- 
 panies, and a bank president besides. A general laugh followed 
 the remark. 
 
 "They tell me," said Fitch, "that for once Ames has been 
 outwitted, and that by a little bucket-shop broker named Ket- 
 chim." 
 
 "How's that?" queried Kane, Board of Trade plunger, and 
 the most mettlesome speculator of the group. 
 
 "Why," explained Weston, "some months ago Ames tried 
 to reach Ed. Stolz through Ketchim, the old man's nephew, 
 and get control of C. and R. But friend nephew dropped the 
 portcullis just as Ames was dashing across the drawbridge, and 
 J. Wilton found himself outside, looking through the bars. 
 First time I've ever known that to happen. Now the boys have 
 got hold of it on 'Change, and Ames has been getting it from 
 every quarter/' 
 
 "Long time leaking out, seems to me," remarked K^e. 
 "But what's Ames going to do about it?" 
 
 91 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Nothing, I guess," returned Weston. "He seems to have 
 dropped the matter." 
 
 "I think you will find yourself mistaken," put in the Beau- 
 bien evenly. 
 
 "Why?" queried Fitch, as all eyes turned upon the woman. 
 "Have you inside information?" 
 
 "None whatever," she replied. "But Mr. Ames always gets 
 what he goes after, and he will secure control of C. and Fl, 
 eventually." 
 
 "I don't believe it!" vigorously asserted Murdock, who had 
 been an interested listener. "He will never oust Stolz." 
 
 "I have one thousand dollars that says he will," said the 
 Beaubien, calmly regarding the speaker. "William, my check- 
 book, please." 
 
 Murdock seemed taken back for the moment; but lost no 
 time recovering his poise. Drawing out his own book he 
 wrote a check in the Beaubien's name for the amount and 
 sent it down the table to her. 
 
 "Mr. Fitch will hold the stakes," said the woman, handing 
 him the two slips of paper. "And we will set a time limit of 
 eighteen months." 
 
 "By the way," remarked Peele, the only one of the group 
 who had taken no part in the preceding conversation, "I see by 
 the evening paper that there's been another, accident in the 
 Avon mills. Fellow named Marcus caught in a machine and 
 crushed all out of shape. That's the third one down there 
 this month. They'll force Ames to equip his mills with safety 
 devices if this keeps up." 
 
 "Not while the yellow metal has any influence upon the 
 Legislature," returned the Beaubien with a knowing smile. 
 "But," she added more seriously, "that is not where the danger 
 lies. The real source of apprehension is in the possibility of 
 a strike. And if war breaks out among those Hungarians 
 down there it will cost him more than to equip all his 
 mills now with safety devices." 
 
 Gannette, who had been sulking in his chair, roused up. 
 "Speaking of war," he growled, "has Ames, or any of you 
 fellows, got a finger in the muddle in South America? I've got 
 interests down there — concessions and the like — and by — !" 
 He wandered off into incoherent mutterings. 
 
 The Beaubien gave a sharp command to the butler. "Wil- 
 liam, Mr. Gannette is leaving now. You will escort him to 
 the door." 
 
 "Now look here, Lucile!" cried Gannette, his apoplectic 
 face becoming more deeply purple, and his blear eyes leering 
 angrily upon the calm woman. "I ain't a-goin' to stand this! 
 
 92 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 What have I done? I'm as sober as any one here, an' — " Wil- 
 liam took the heavy man gently by the arm and persuaded him 
 to his feet. The other guests suppressed their smiles and re- 
 mained discreetly quiet. 
 
 "But — my car — !" sputtered Gannette. 
 
 "Have Henri take him to his club, William," said the Beau- 
 bien, rising. "Good night, Mr. Gannette. We will expect you 
 Wednesday evening, and we trust that we will not have to ac- 
 cept your excuses again." 
 
 Gannette was led soddenly out. The Beaubien quietly re- 
 sumed her seat. It was the second time the man had been 
 dismissed from her table, and the guests marveled that it did 
 not mean the final loss of her favor. But she remained in- 
 scrutable; and the conversation quickly drifted into new chan- 
 nels. A few moments later William returned and made a quiet 
 announcement : 
 
 "Mr. Ames." 
 
 A huge presence emerged from the darkness into the light. 
 The Beaubien immediately rose and advanced to greet the 
 newcomer. "What is it?" she whispered, taking his hand. 
 
 The man smiled down into her upturned, anxious face. His 
 only reply was a reassuring pressure of her hand. But she 
 comprehended, and her face brightened. 
 
 "Gentlemen," remarked Ames, taking the vacant chair, "the 
 President's message is out. I have been going over it with 
 Hood — ^which accounts for my tardiness," he added, nodding 
 pleasantly to the Beaubien. "Quoting from our chief execu- 
 tive's long list of innocent platitudes, I may say that 'private 
 monopoly is criminally unjust, wholly indefensible, and not 
 to be tolerated in a Republic founded upon the premise of 
 equal rights to all mankind.' " 
 
 "Certainly not!" concurred Weston, holding up his glass 
 and gazing admiringly at the rich color of the wine. 
 
 The others laughed. "Quite my sentiments, too," mur- 
 mured Fitch, rolling his eyes upward and attempting with poor 
 success to assume a beatific expression. 
 
 "Furthermore," continued Ames, with mock gravity, "the 
 interlocking of corporation directorates must be prohibited by 
 law; power must be conferred upon the Interstate Commerce 
 Commission to superintend the financial management of rail- 
 roads; holding-companies must cease to exist; and corrective 
 policies must be shaped, whereby so-called 'trusts' will be 
 regulated and rendered innocuous. Are we agreed?" 
 
 "We are," said they all, in one voice. 
 
 "Carried," concluded Ames in a solemn tone. Then a burst 
 of laughter rose from the table; and even the inscrutable Wil- 
 liam smiled behind his hand. 
 
 40 93 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "But, seriously," said Weston, when the laughter had ceased, 
 "I believe we've got a President now who's going to do some- 
 thing, don't you?" 
 
 "I do not," replied Ames emphatically. "As long as the 
 human mind remains as it is there is nothing to fear, though 
 Congress legislate itself blue in the face. Reform is not to be 
 made like a garment and forced upon the people from the out- 
 side. It is a growth from within. Restrictive measures have 
 not as yet, in all the history of civilization, reformed a single 
 criminal." 
 
 "What does Hood say?" asked Murdock. 
 
 "That we are puncture-proof," replied Ames with a light 
 laugh. 
 
 "But what about your indictment in that cotton deal? Is 
 Hood going to find you law-proof there?" 
 
 "The case is settled," said Ames easily. "I went into court 
 this morning and plead guilty to the indictment for conspiring 
 to corner the cotton market two years ago. I admitted that I 
 violated the Sherman law. The judge promptly fined me three 
 thousand dollars, for which I immediately wrote a check, leav- 
 ing me still the winner by some two million seven hundred 
 thousand dollars on the deal, to say nothing of compound inter- 
 est on the three thousand for the past two years. You see the 
 beneficent effect of legislation, do you not?" 
 
 "By George, Ames, you certainly were stingy not to let us 
 in on that!" exclaimed Kane. 
 
 "Cotton belongs to me, gentlemen," replied Ames simply. 
 "You will have to keep out," 
 
 "Well," remarked Fitch, glancing about the table, "suppose 
 we get down to the business of the evening — if agreeable to 
 our hostess," bowing in the direction of the Beaubien. 
 
 The latter nodded her approval of the suggestion. "Has 
 any one anything new to offer?" she said. 
 
 Some moments of silence followed. Then Ames . spoke. 
 "There is a little matter," he began, "that I have been revolving 
 for some days. Perhaps it may interest you. It concerns the 
 Albany post road. It occurred to me some time ago that a 
 franchise for a trolley line on that road could be secured and 
 ultimately sold for a round figure to the wealthy residents 
 whose estates lie along it, and who would give a million dollars 
 rather than have a line built there. After some preliminary 
 examination I got Hood to draft a bill providing for the build- 
 ing of the road, and submitted it to Jacobson, Commissioner 
 of Highways. He reported that it would be the means of de- 
 stroying the post road. I convinced him, on the other hand, 
 that it would be the means of lining his purse with fifty thou- 
 
 94 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 sand dollars. So he very naturally gave it his endorsement. I 
 then got in consultation with Senator Gossitch, and had him 
 arrange a meeting with the Governor, in Albany. I think," he 
 concluded, "that about five hundred thousand dollars will 
 grease the wheels all 'round. I've got the Governor on the hip 
 in that Southern Mexican deal, and he is at present eating out 
 of my hand. I'll lay this project on the table now, and you 
 can take it up if you so desire." 
 
 "The scheme seems all right," commented Weston, after a 
 short meditation. "But the profits are not especially large. 
 What else have you?" 
 
 "Well, a net profit of half a million to split up among us 
 would at least provide for a yachting party next summer," re- 
 marked Ames sententiously. "And no work connected with 
 it — in fact, the work has been done. I shall want an additional 
 five per cent for handling it." 
 
 An animated discussion followed; and then Fitch offered a 
 motion that the group definitely take up the project. The 
 Beaubien put the vote, and it was carried without dissent. 
 
 "What about that potato scheme you were figuring on, 
 Ames?" asked Fitch at this juncture. "Anything ever come 
 of it?" 
 
 Ames's eyes twinkled. "I didn't get much encouragement 
 from my friends," he replied. "A perfectly feasible scheme, 
 too." 
 
 "I don't believe it," put in Weston emphatically. "It never 
 could be put through." 
 
 "I have one million dollars that says it could," returned 
 Ames calmly. "Will you cover it?" 
 
 Weston threw up his hands in token of surrender. "Not 
 I!" he exclaimed, scurrying for cover. 
 
 Ames laughed. "Well," he said, "suppose we look into the 
 scheme and see if we don't want to handle it. It simply calls 
 for a little thought and work. The profits would be tremen- 
 dous. Shall I explain?" He stopped and glanced at the Beau- 
 bien for approval. She nodded, and he went on: 
 
 "I have lately been investigating the subject of various 
 food supplies other than wheat and corn as possible bases for 
 speculation, and my attention has been drawn strongly to a 
 very humble one, potatoes." 
 
 A general laugh followed this announcement. But Ames 
 continued unperturbed: 
 
 "I find that in some sections of the West potatoes are so 
 plentiful at times that they bring but twenty cents a bushel. 
 My investigations have covered a period of several months, and 
 now I have in my possession a large map of the United States 
 
 95 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 with the potato sections, prices, freight rates and all other nec- 
 essary data indicated. The results are interesting. My idea 
 is to send agents into all these sections next summer before 
 the potatoes are turned up, and contract for the entire crop at 
 twenty-five cents a bushel. The agents will pay the farmers 
 cash, and agree to assume all expenses of digging, packing, 
 shipping, and so forth, allowing the farmer to take what he 
 needs for his own consumption. Needless to say, the potatoes 
 will not be removed from the fields, but will be allowed to rot 
 in the ground. Those that do reach the market will sell for 
 a dollar and a half in New York and Chicago." 
 
 "In other words," added Fitch, "you are simply figuring 
 to corner the market for the humble tuber, eh?" 
 
 "Precisely," said Ames. 
 
 "But — ^you say you have all the necessary data.now?" 
 
 "All, even to the selection of a few of my agents. I can 
 control freight rates for what we may wish to ship. The rest 
 of the crop will be left to rot. The farmers will jump at such 
 a bargain. And the consumers will pay our price for what they 
 must have." 
 
 "Very pretty," mused Murdock. "And how much do you 
 figure we shall need to round the corner?" 
 
 "A million, cash in hand," replied Ames. 
 
 "Is this anything that the women can mix into?" asked 
 Fitch suddenly. "You know they forced us to dump tons of 
 our cold-storage stuff onto the market two years ago." 
 
 "That was when I controlled wheat," said Ames, "and was 
 all tied up. But this is a wholly different proposition. It will 
 be done so quietly and thoroughly that it will all be over and 
 the profits pocketed before the women wake up to what we're 
 doing. In this case there will be nothing to store. And pota- 
 toes exposed in the field rot quickly, you know." 
 
 The rest of the group seemed to study the idea for some 
 moments. Then the practical Murdock inquired of Ames if 
 he would agree to handle the project, provided they took it 
 up. 
 
 "Yes," assented Ames, "on a five per cent basis. And I am 
 ready to put agents in the field to-morrow." 
 
 "Then, Madam Beaubien," said Fitch, "I move that we adopt 
 the plan as set forth by Mr'. Ames, and commission him to 
 handle it, calling upon us equally for whatever funds he may 
 need." 
 
 A further brief discussion ensued; and then the resolution 
 was unanimously adopted. 
 
 "Say, Ames," queried Weston, with a glint of mischief in 
 his eyes, "will any of these potatoes be shipped over the C. and 
 R.?" 
 
 96 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 A laugh -went up around the table, in which Ames himself 
 joined. "Yes," he said, "potatoes and cotton will both go over 
 that road next summer, and I shall fix the rebates." 
 
 "How about your friend Ketchim?" suggested Fitch, with 
 a wink at Murdock. 
 
 Ames's mouth set grimly, and the smile left his face. "Ket- 
 chim is going to Sing Sing for that little deal," he returned in 
 a low, cold tone, so cold that even the Beaubien could not 
 repress a little shudder. "I had him on Mplino, but he trumped 
 up a new company which absorbed Molino and satisfied every- 
 body, so I am blocked for the present. But, mark me, I shall 
 strip him of every dollar, and then put him behind the bars be- 
 fore I've finished!" 
 
 And no one sought to refute the man, for they knew he 
 spoke truth. 
 
 At midnight, while the cathedral chimes in the great hall 
 clock were sending their trembling message through the dark 
 house, the Beaubien rose, and the dinner was concluded. A 
 few moments later the guests were spinning in their cars to 
 their various homes or clubs — all but Ames. As he was pre- 
 paring to leave, the Beaubien laid a hand on his arm. "Wait 
 a moment, Wilton," she said. "I have something important to 
 discuss with you." She led him into the morning room, where 
 a fire was blazing cheerily in the grate, and drew up a chair 
 before it for him, then nestled on the floor at his feet. 
 
 "I sent Gannette home this evening," she began, by way of 
 introduction. "He was drunk. I would drop him entirely, only 
 you said — " 
 
 "We need him," interrupted Ames. "Hold him a while, 
 longer." 
 
 "I'll soil my hands by doing it; but it is for you. Now tell 
 me," she went on eagerly, "what about Colombia? Have you 
 any further news from Wenceslas?" 
 
 "A cable to-day. Everything's all right. Don't worry. 
 The Church is with the Government, and they will win — al- 
 though your money may be tied up for a few years. Still, you 
 can't lose in the end." 
 
 The woman sat for some moments gazing into the fire. 
 Then: 
 
 "'Lafelle was here again to-day." 
 
 "Hold him, too," said Ames quickly. "Looks as if I had 
 made you a sort of holding company, doesn't it?" he added, 
 with a chuckle. "But we shall have good use for these fellows." 
 
 "He gave me some very interesting news," she said; and 
 then went on to relate the conversation in detail. Ames laughed 
 loudly as he listened. 
 
 97 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "And now, Wilton," said the Beaubien, a determined look 
 coming into her face, "you have always said that you never 
 forgave me for making you let Jim Crowles off, when you had 
 him by the throat. Well, I'm going to give you a chance to get 
 more than even. Jim's fat widow is after your wife's scalp. I 
 intend that she shall lose her own in the chase. I've got my 
 plans all laid, and I want your wife to meet the lovely Mrs. 
 Hawley-Crowles at the Fitch's next Thursday afternoon. It 
 will be just a formal call- — mutual introductions — and, later, 
 an invitation from Mrs. Ames to Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. Mean- 
 time, I want you to get Mrs. Hawley-Crowles involved in a 
 financial way, and shear her of every penny! Do you under- 
 stand?" 
 
 Ames looked at her quizzically. Then he broke into an- 
 other sharp laugh. "My dear," said he, taking her hand, "you 
 are charming this evening. Added years only make you more 
 beautiful." 
 
 "Nonsense, Will!" she deprecated, although the smile she 
 gave him attested her pleasure in the compliment. "Well," she 
 continued briskly, "if I'm so beautiful, you can't help loving 
 me ; and if you love me, you will do what I ask." 
 
 He playfully pinched her cheek. "Why, poor old. Jim 
 Crowles ! Really, I've long since forgotten him. Do you realize 
 that that was more than ten years ago?" 
 
 "Please don't mention years, dear," she murmured, shud- 
 dering a little. "Tell me, what can we do to teach this fat hussy 
 a lesson?" 
 
 "Well," he suggested, laughing, "we might get Ketchim 
 after her, to sell her a wad of his worthless stocks ; then when 
 he goes down, as he is going one of these days, we will hope 
 that it will leave her on the rocks of financial ruin, eh?" 
 
 "What's Ketchim promoting?" she'asked. "I know nothing 
 about him." 
 
 "Why, among other innocent novelties, a scheme bearing 
 the sonorous title of Simiti Development Company, I am told 
 by my brokers." 
 
 "Simiti! Why — I've heard Carmen mention that name. 
 I wonder — " 
 
 "Well, and who is Carmen?" he asked with a show of real 
 interest. 
 
 "My little friend — the one and only honest person I've ever 
 dealt with, excepting, of course, present company." 
 
 "The amendment is accepted. And now where does this 
 Carmen enter the game?" 
 
 "Why, she's — surely you know about her!" 
 
 "If I did I should not ask." 
 
 98 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Well, she is a little Colombian—" 
 
 "Colombian!" 
 
 "Yes. They say she's an Inca princess. Came up with the 
 engineers who went down there for Ketchim to examine the 
 Molino properties. She lived all her life in a town called Simiti 
 until she came up here." 
 
 Ames leaned over and looked steadily into the fire. "Never 
 heard of the place," he murmured dreamily. 
 
 "Well," said the Beaubien eagerly, "she's a — a wonderful 
 child! I'm different when I'm with her." 
 
 He roused from his meditations and smiled down at the 
 woman. "Then I'd advise you not to be with her much, for I 
 prefer you as you are." 
 
 They sat some minutes in silence. Then the woman looked 
 up at her companion. "What are you thinking about so 
 seriously?" she asked. 
 
 The man started; then drew himself up and gave a little 
 nervous laugh. "Of you," he replied evasively, "always." 
 
 She reached up and slapped his cheek tenderly. "You 
 were dreaming of your awful business deals," she said. "What 
 have you in hand now? — besides the revolution in Colombia, 
 your mines, your mills, your banks, your railroads and trolley 
 lines, your wheat and potato corners, your land concessions 
 and cattle schemes, and — well, that's a start, at least," she 
 finished, pausing for breath. 
 
 "Another big deal," he said abruptly. 
 
 "Wheat, again?" 
 
 "No, cotton. I'm buying every bale I can find, in Europe, 
 Asia, and the States." 
 
 "But, Will, you've been caught in cotton before, you know. 
 And I don't believe you can get away with it again. Unless — " 
 
 "That's it — unless," he interrupted. "And that's just the 
 part I have taken care of. It's a matter of tariff. The cotton 
 schedule will go through as I have it outlined. I practically 
 own the Commission. They don't dare refuse to pass the 
 measure. Cotton is low now. In a few months the tariff on 
 cotton products will be up. The new tariff-wall sends the 
 price of raw stuff soaring. I profit, coming and going. I was 
 beaten on the last deal simply because of faulty weather prog- 
 nostications. I made a bad guess. This time the weather 
 doesn't figure. I'll let you in, if you wish. But these other 
 fellows have got to stay out." 
 
 "I haven't a penny to invest. Will," she replied mournfully. 
 "You got me so terribly involved in this Colombian revolution." 
 
 "Oh, well," he returned easily, "I'll lend you what you heed, 
 any amount. And you can give me your advice and suggestions 
 
 99 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 from time to time. As for your Colombian investments, haven't 
 I guaranteed them, practically?" 
 
 "Not in writing," she said, looking up at him with a twinkle 
 in her eyes. 
 
 "Bah! Well, do you want that?" 
 
 "No, certainly not," she returned, giving him a glance of 
 admiration. "But, to return, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles is going to 
 be received into your wife's set, and you are going to give her a 
 good financial whipping?" 
 
 "Certainly, if you wish it, I'm yours to command. Mrs, 
 Hawley-Crowles shall go to the poor-house, if you say the 
 word. But now, my dear, have William order my car. And, 
 let me see, Mrs. Ames is to meet Mrs. Hawley-Crowles at 
 Fitch's? Just a chance call, I take it." 
 
 ' "Yes, dear," murmured the Beaubien, reaching up and kiss- 
 ing him; "next Thursday at three,' Good night. Call me on 
 the 'phone to-morrow." 
 
 CHAPTER 12 
 
 THE Ames building, a block from the Stock Exchange, was 
 originally only five stories in height. But as the Ames 
 interests grew, floor after floor was added, until, on the 
 day that Mrs. Hawley-Crowles pointed it out to Carmen from 
 the window of her limousine, it had reached, tower and all, a 
 height of twenty-five stories, and was increasing at an average 
 rate of two additional a year. It was not its size that aroused 
 interest, overtopped as it was by many others, but its unique- 
 ness ; for, though a hive of humming industry, it did -not house 
 a single business that was not either owned outright or con- 
 trolled 6y J. Wilton Ames* from the lowly cigar stands in the 
 marble corridors to the great banking house of Ames and 
 Company on the second floor. The haberdashers, the shoe- 
 shining booths, the soda fountains, and the great commercial 
 (enterprises that dwelt about them, each and all acknowledged 
 fealty and paid homage to the man who brooded over them 
 in his magnificent offices on the twenty-fifth floor in the tower 
 above. 
 
 It was not by any consensus of opinion among the financiers 
 of New York that Ames had assumed leadership, but by sheer 
 force of what was doubtless the most dominant character de- 
 veloped in recent years by those peculiar forces which have 
 produced the American multimillionaire. "Mental dynamite!" 
 was Weston's characterization of the man, "And," he once 
 
 100 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 added, when, despite his anger, he could not but admire Ames's 
 tactical blocking of his piratical move, which the former's keen 
 foresight had perceived threatened danger at Washington, 
 "it is not by any tacit agreement that we accept him, but be- 
 cause he knows ten tricks to our one, that's all." 
 
 To look at the man, now in his forty-fifth year, meant, 
 generally, an expression of admiration for his unusual 
 physique, and a wholly erroneous appraisal of his character. 
 His build was that of a gladiator.' He stood six-feet-four in 
 height, with Herculean shoulders and arms, and a pair of legs 
 that suggested nothing so much as the great pillars which 
 supported the facade of the Ames building. Those arms and 
 legs, and those great back-muscles, had sent his college shell 
 to victory every year that he had sat in the boat. They had 
 won every game on the gridiron in which he had participated 
 as the greatest "center" the college ever developed. For base- 
 ball he was a bit too massive, much to his own disappointment, 
 but the honors he failed to secure there he won in the field 
 events, and in the surreptitiously staged boiing and wrestling 
 bouts when, hidden away in the cellar of some secret society 
 hall, he would crush his opponents with an ease and a peculiar 
 glint of satisfaction in his gray eyes that was grimly prophetic 
 of days to come. His mental attitude toward contests for 
 superiority of whatever nature did not differ essentially from 
 that of the Roman gladiators: he entered them to win. If 
 he fell, well and good; he expected "thumbs down." If he 
 won, his opponent heed look for no exhibition of generosity 
 on his part. When his man lay prone before him, he stooped 
 and cut his throat. And he would have loathed the one who 
 forbore to do likewise with himself. 
 
 In scholarship he might have won a place, had not the 
 physical side of his nature been so predominant, and his re- 
 markable muscular strength so great a prize to the various 
 athletic coaches and directors. Ames was first an animal; 
 there was no stimulus as yet sufficiently strong to arouse his 
 latent spirituality. And yet his intellect was keen; and to 
 those studies to which he was by nature or inheritance espe- 
 cially attracted, economics, banking, and all branches of 
 finance, he brought a power of concentration that was as stu- 
 pendous as his physical strength. His mental make-up was 
 peculiar, in that it was the epitome of energy — manifested at 
 first only in brute force — and in that it was wholly deficient in 
 the sense of fear. Because of this his daring was phenomenal. 
 
 Immediately upon leaving college Ames became associated 
 with his father in the already great banking house of Ames 
 and Company. But the animality of his nature soon found the 
 
 101 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 confinement irksome; his father's greater conservatism ham- 
 pered his now rapidly expanding spirit of commercialism; and 
 after a few years in the banking house he withdrew and set 
 up for himself. The father, while lacking the boy's fearless- 
 ness, had long since recognized dominant qualities in him 
 which he himself did not possess, and he therefore confidently 
 acquiesced in his son's desire, and, in addition, gave him carte 
 blanche in the matter of funds for his speculative enterprises. 
 
 Four years later J. Wilton Ames, rich in his own name, 
 already becoming recognized as a power in the world of finance, 
 with diversified enterprises which reached into almost every 
 country of the globe, hastened home from a foreign land in 
 response to a message announcing the sudden death of his 
 father. The devolving of his parent's vast fortune upon him- 
 self — he was the sole heir — then necessitated his permanent 
 location in New York. And so, reluctantly giving up his 
 travels, he gathered his agents and lieutenants about him, con- 
 centrating his interests as much as possible in the Ames 
 building, and settted down to the enjoyment of expanding his 
 huge fortune. A few months later he married, and the union 
 amalgamated the proud old Essex stock of Ames, whose for- 
 bears fought under the Conqueror and were written in the 
 Doomsday Book, to the wealthy and aristocratic Van Heyse 
 branch of old Amsterdam. To this union were born a son 
 and a daughter, twins. 
 
 The interval between his graduation from college and the 
 death of his father was all but unknown to the cronies of his 
 subsequent years in New York. Though he had spent much of 
 it in the metropolis, he had been self-centered and absorbed, 
 even lonely, while laying his plans and developing the schemes 
 which resulted in financial pre'dminence. With unlimited 
 money at his' disposal, he was unhampered in the choice of his 
 business clientele, and he formed it from every quarter of the 
 globe. Much of his time had been spent abroad, and he had 
 become as well known on the Paris bourse and the exchanges 
 of Europe as in his native land. Confident and successful from 
 the outset; without any trace of pride or touch of hauteur in 
 his nature; as wholly lacking in ethical development and in 
 generosity as he was in fear; gradually becoming more sociable 
 and companionable, although still reticent of certain periods 
 of his past; his cunning and brutality increasing with years; 
 and his business sagacity and keen strategy becoming the talk 
 of the Street; with no need to raise his eyes beyond the low 
 plane of his material endeavors ; he pursued his business partly 
 for the pleasure the game afforded him, partly for the power 
 which his accumulations bestowed upon him, and mostly be- 
 
 102 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 cause it served as an adequate outlet for his tremendous, al- 
 most superhuman, driving energy. If he betrayed and de- 
 bauched ideals, it was because he was utterly incapable of 
 rising to them, nor felt the stimulus to make the attempt. If 
 he achieved no noble purpose, it was because when he glanced 
 at the mass of humanity about him he looked through the 
 lenses of self. His glance fell always first upon J. Wilton 
 Ames — and he never looked beyond. The world had been 
 created for him; the cosmos but expressed his Ego. 
 
 On the morning after his conversation with the Beaubien 
 regarding the social aspirations of Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, the 
 financier sat at his rich mahogany desk on the top floor of 
 the Ames building in earnest discussion with his lawyer, 
 Alonzo Hood. The top floor of the tower was divided into 
 eight rooms. Two of these constituted Ames's inner sanctum; 
 one was Hood's private office; and the rest were devoted to 
 clerks and stenographers. A telegrapher occupied an alcove 
 adjoining Hood's room, and handled confidential messages 
 over private wires to the principal cities in the country. A 
 private telephone connected Ames's desk with the Beaubien 
 mansion. Private lines ran to the Stock Exchange and to 
 various other points throughout the city. The telegraph and 
 telephone companies gave his messages preference over all 
 others. At a word he would be placed in almost instant com- 
 munication with New Orleans, San Francisco, London, Berlin, 
 or Cairo. Private lines and speaking tubes ran to every room 
 or floor of the building where a company, firm, or individual 
 was doing business. At the office of the Telegraph Service 
 up-town he maintained messengers who carried none but his 
 own despatches. In the railroad yards his private car stood 
 always in readiness ; and in the harbor his yacht was kept con- 
 stantly under steam. A motor car stood ever in waiting in 
 the street below, close to the shaft of a private automatic ele- 
 vator, which ran through the building for his use alone. This 
 elevator also penetrated the restaurant in the basement of the 
 building, where a private room and a special waiter were 
 always at the man's disposal. A private room and special 
 attendant were maintained in the Turkish baths adjoining, and 
 he had his own personal suite and valet at his favorite club 
 up-town. 
 
 This morning he was at his desk, as usual, at eight o'clock. 
 Before him lay the various daily reports from his mines, his 
 mills, his railroads, and his bank. These disposed of, there 
 followed a quick survey of the day's appointments, arranged 
 for him by his chief secretary. Then he summoned Hood. As 
 the latter entered, Ames was absorbed in the legend of the 
 stock ticker. 
 
 103 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "C. and R. closed yesterday at twenty-six," he commented. 
 Then, swinging back in his chair, "What's Stolz doing?" 
 
 "For one thing, he has made Miss Fagin his private stenog- 
 rapher," replied Hood. 
 
 Ames chuckled. "Now we will begin to get real informa- 
 tion," he remarked. "Tell Miss Fagin you will give her fifty 
 dollars a week from now on; but she is to deliver to you a 
 carbon copy of every letter she writes for Stolz. And I want 
 those copies on my desk every morning when I come down. 
 Hood," he continued, abruptly turning the conversation, ";what 
 have you dug up about Ketchim's new company?" 
 
 "Very little, sir," replied Hood with a trace of embarrass- 
 ment. "His lawyer is a fledgeling named Cass, young, but wise 
 enough not to talk. I called on him yesterday afternoon to 
 have a little chat about the old Molino company, representing 
 that I was speaking for certain stockholders. But he told me to 
 bring the stockholders in and he would talk with them person- 
 ally." 
 
 Ames laughed, while the lawyer grinned sheepishly. "Is 
 that the sort of service you are rendering for a hundred-thou- 
 sand-dollar salary?" he bantered. "Hood, I'm ashamed of 
 you!" 
 
 "I can't blame you; I am ashamed of myself," replied the 
 lawyer. 
 
 "Well," continued Ames good-naturedly, "leave Ketchim 
 to me. I've got three men now buying small amounts of stock 
 in his various companies. I'll call for receiverships pretty 
 soon, and we will see this time that he doesn't refund the 
 money. Now about other matters: the Albany post trolley 
 deal is to go through. Also the potato scheme. Work up the 
 details and let me have them at once. Have you got the senate 
 bill drawn for Gossitch?" 
 
 "It will be ready this afternoon. As it stands now, the 
 repealing section gives any city the right to grant saloon 
 licenses of indefinite length, instead of for one year." 
 
 "That's the idea. We want the bill so drawn that it will 
 become practically impossible to revoke a license." 
 
 "As it now reads," said Hood, "it makes a saloon license 
 assignable. That creates a property right that can hardly be 
 revoked." 
 
 "JuSt so," returned Ames. "As I figure, it will create a 
 value of some twenty millions for those who own saloons in 
 N^ew York. A tidy sum!" 
 
 "That means for the brewers." 
 
 "And distillers, yes. And if the United States ever reaches 
 the point where it will have to buy the saloons in order to wipe 
 them out, it will face a very handsome little expenditure." 
 
 104 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "But, Mr. Ames, a very large part of the stock of American 
 brewing companies is owned in Europe. How are you — " 
 
 "Nominally, it is. But for two years, and more, I have- 
 been quietly gathering iii brewing stock from abroad, and 
 to-day I have some ten millions in my own control, from 
 actual purchases, options, and so forth. I'm going to organize 
 a holding" company, when the time arrives, and I figure that 
 within the next year or so we will practically control the pro- 
 duction of beer and spirituous liquors in the United States and 
 Europe. The formation of that company will be a task worthy 
 of your genius. Hood." ■ 
 
 "It will be a pleasure to undertake it," replied Hood with 
 animation. "By the way, Mr. Ames, I got in touch with Senator 
 Mall last evening at the club, and he assures me that the senate 
 committee have so changed the phraseology of the tariff bill on 
 cotton products that the clause you wish retained will be con- 
 tinued with its meaning unaltered. In fact, the discrimination 
 which the hosiery interests desire will be fully observed. Your 
 suggestion as to an ad valorem duty of fifty per cent on hose 
 valued at less than sixty-five cents a dozen pairs is exceptionally 
 clever, in view of the fact that there are none of less than that 
 value." 
 
 Ames laughed again. "Triumphant Republicanism," he 
 commented. "And right in the face of the President's mes- 
 sage. Wire Mall that I will be in Washington Thursday eve- 
 ning to advise with him further about it. And you will go 
 with me. Hood, we've got a fight on in regard to the Presi- 
 dent's idea of granting permission in private sujts to use judg- 
 ments and facts brought out and entered in government suits 
 against combinations. That idea has got to be killed! And 
 the regulation of security issues of railroads — ^^preposferous ! 
 Why, the President's crazy! If Mall and Gossitch and Wells 
 don't oppose that in the Senate, I'll see that they are up before 
 the lunacy commission — and I have some influence with that 
 body!" 
 
 "There is nothing to fear, I think," replied Hood reassur- 
 ingly. "An important piece of business legislation like that 
 will hardly go through this session. And then we will have 
 time to prepare to frustrate it. The suggestion to place the 
 New York Stock Exchange under government supervision is 
 a much more serious matter, I think." ■ 
 
 "See here. Hood," said Ames, leaning forward and laying 
 a hand upon that gentleman's knee, "when that happens, we'll 
 have either a Socialist president or a Catholic in the White 
 House, with Rome twitching the string. Then I shall move to 
 my Venezuelan estates, take the vow of poverty, and turn 
 monk." 
 
 105 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Which reminds me again that by your continued relations 
 with Rome you are doing much to promote just that state of 
 affairs," returned the lawyer sententiously. 
 
 "Undoubtedly," said Ames. "But I find the Catholic Church 
 convenient — indeed, necessary— for the promotion of certain 
 plans. And so I use it. The Colombian revolution, for ex- 
 ample. But I shall abruptly sever my relations with that in- 
 stitution some day — when I am through with it. At present 
 I am milking the Church to the extent of a brimming pail every 
 year; and as long as the udder is full and accessible I shall 
 continue to tap it. I tapped the Presbyterian Church, through 
 Borwell, last year, if you remember." 
 
 Willett, chief secretary to Ames, entered at that moment 
 with the morning mail, opened and sorted, and replies written 
 to letters of such nature as he could attend to without sugges- 
 tions from his chief. 
 
 "By the way," remarked Hood when he saw the letters, 
 "I had word from Collins this morning that he had secured a 
 signed statement from that fellow Marcus, who was crushed 
 in the Avon mills yesterday. Marcus accepted the medical 
 services of, our physicians, and died in our hospital. Just 
 before he went off, his wife accepted a settlement of one hun- 
 dred dollars. Looked big to her, I guess, and was a bird in the 
 hand. So that matter's settled." 
 
 "That reminds me," said Ames, looking up from his mail; 
 "we 'are going to close the mills earlier this year on account 
 of the cotton shortage." 
 
 Hood gave a low whistle. "That spells trouble, in capital 
 letters!" he commented. "Four thousand hands idle for three 
 months, I suppose. By George! we just escaped disaster last 
 year, you remember." 
 
 "It will be more than three months this time," commented 
 Ames with a knowing look. Then — "Hood, I verily believe you 
 are a coward." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Ames," replied the latter slowly, "I certainly 
 would hesitate to do some of the things you do. Yet you seem 
 to get awajr with them." 
 
 "Perk up. Hood," laughed Ames. "I've got real work for 
 you as soon as I get control of C. and R. I'm going to put you 
 in as president, at a salary of one hundred thousand per an- 
 num. Then you are going to buy the road for me for about two 
 million dollars, and I'll reorganize and sell to the stockholders 
 for five millions, still retaining control. The road is only a 
 scrap heap, but its control is the first step toward the amalga- 
 mation of the trolley interests of New England. Laws are 
 going to be violated, Hood, both in actual letter and in spirit, 
 
 106 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 But that's your end of the business. It's up to you to get 
 around the Interstate Commerce Commission in any way you 
 can, and buttress this little monopoly against competition and 
 reform-infected legislatures. I don't care what it costs." 
 
 "What about Crabbe?" asked Hood dubiously. 
 
 "We'll send Crabbe to the Senate," Ames coolly replied. 
 
 "You seem to forget that senators are now elected by the 
 people, Mr. Ames." 
 
 "I forget nothing, sir. The people are New York City, 
 Buffalo, and Albany. Tammany is New York. And Tammany 
 at present is in my pocket. Buffalo and Albany can be swept 
 by the Catholic vote. And I have that in the upper right hand 
 drawer of my private file. The 'people' will therefore elect to 
 the Senate the man I choose. In fact, I prefer direct election 
 of senators over the former method, for the people are greater 
 fools en masse than any State Legislature that ever assem- 
 bled." 
 
 He took up another letter from the pile on his desk and 
 glanced through it. "From Borwell," he commented. "Pro- 
 tests against the way you nullified the Glaze-Bassett red-light 
 injunction bill. Pretty clever, that. Hood. I really didn't think 
 it was in you." 
 
 "Invoking the referendum, you mean?" said Hood, puffing 
 a little with pride. 
 
 "Yes, But for that, the passage of the bill would have wiped 
 out the whole red-light district, and quartered the rents I now 
 get from my .shacks down there. Now next year we will be 
 better prepared to fight the bill. The press will be with us 
 then — a little cheaper and a trifle more degraded than it is 
 to-day." 
 
 A private messenger entered with a cablegram. Ames read 
 it and handed it to his lawyer. "The Proteus has reached the 
 African Gold Coast at last," he said. Then he threw back his 
 head and laughed heartily. "Do you know. Hood, the Proteus 
 carried two missionaries, sent to the frizzle-topped Zulus by 
 Borwell and his outfit. Deutsch and Company cable that they 
 have arrived." 
 
 "But," said Hood in some perplexity, "the cargo of the 
 Proteus was rum !" 
 
 "Just so," rpared Ames; "that's where the joke comes in. 
 I make it a point that every ship of mine that carries a mis- 
 sionary to a foreign field shall also carry a cargo of rum. The 
 combination is one that the Zulu finds simply irresistible!" 
 
 "So," commented Hood, "the Church goes down to Egypt 
 for help}" 
 
 "Why not?" returned Ames. "I carry the missionaries 
 
 107 
 
C A R M E N ' A R I Z A 
 
 free on my rum boats. Great saving to the Board of Foreign 
 Missions, you know." 
 
 Hood looked at the man hefore him in undisguised admira- 
 tion of his cunning. "And did you likewise send missionaries 
 to China with your opium cargoes?" he asked. 
 
 Ames chuckled. "I once sent Borwell himself to Hong- 
 kong on a boat loaded to the rails with opium. We had in- 
 sisted on his taking a needed vacation, and so packed: him off 
 to Europe. In Bombay I cabled him to take the Crotus to 
 Hongkong, transportation free. That was my last consignment 
 of opium to China, for restrictions had already fallen upon 
 our very Christian England, and the opium traffic was killed. 
 I had plans laid to corner the entire opium business in India, 
 and I'd have cleaned up a hundred million out of it, but for 
 the pressure of public sentiment. However, we're going to 
 educate John Chinaman to substitute whiskey for opium. But 
 now," glancing at the great electric wall clock, "I've wasted 
 enough time with you. By the way, do you know why this 
 Government withheld recognition of the Chinese Republic?" 
 
 "No," replied Hood, standing in anticipation. 
 
 "Thirty thousand chests of opium," returned Ames lacon- 
 ically. "Value, fifty million dollars." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Ames and Company had advanced to the English banks of 
 Shanghai and Hongkong half this amount, loaned on the 
 opium. That necessitated a few plain words from me to the 
 President, and a quick trip from Washington to .London after- 
 wards to interview his most Christian British Majesty. A very 
 pleasant and profitable trip, Hood, very! Now tell Willett I 
 want him." 
 
 Hood threw his chief another look of intense admiration, 
 and left the room. Willett's entrance followed immediately. 
 
 "Get Lafelle here some time to-day when I have- a vacant 
 hour," commanded Ames. "Cable to acting-Bishop Wenceslas, 
 of Cartagena, and ask him if an American mining company is 
 registered there under the name of Simiti Development Com- 
 pany, and what properties they have and where located. Tell 
 him to cable reply, and follow with detailed letter." 
 
 He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "The 
 Congregation of the Sacred Index has laid the ban on — what's 
 the name of the book?" He drew out a card-index drawer and 
 selected a card, which he tossed to the secretary. "There it is. 
 Get me the book at once." He seemed to muse a while, then 
 went on slowly. "Carlos Madero, of Mexico, is in New York. 
 Learn where he is staying, and arrange an interview for me. 
 Wire Senator Wells, Washington, that the bill for a Children's 
 
 108 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Bureau must not be taken from the table. That's final. Wire 
 the Sequana Coal Company that I want their report to-morrow, 
 without fail. Wire Collins, at Avon, to tell the Spinners' 
 Union I have nothing to discuss with them. Now send Hod- 
 son in." 
 
 • As Hood was chief of the Ames legal department, and Wil- 
 lett the chief of his army of secretaries, so Hodson was the 
 captain of his force of brokers, a keen, sagacious trader, whose 
 knowledge of the market and whose ability in the matter of 
 stock trading was almost uncanny. 
 
 "What's your selection for to-day, Hodson?" asked Ames, 
 as the man entered. 
 
 Hodson laid on his desk three lists of suggested deals on the 
 exchanges of New York, London, and Paris. Ames glanced 
 over them hurriedly, drawing his pencil through certain that 
 did not meet his approval, and substituting others in which 
 for particular reasons he wished to trade that morning. 
 "What's your reason for thinking I ought to buy Public Utili- 
 ties?" he asked, looking up at his broker. 
 
 "They have the letting of the Hudson river tunnel contract," 
 replied Hodson. 
 
 Ames studied the broker's face a moment. Then his own 
 brightened, as he began to divine the man's reason. "By 
 George!" he ejaculated, "you think there's quicksand along 
 the proposed route?" 
 
 "I know it," said Hodson calmly. 
 
 "Pick up ten thousand shares, if you can get them," re- 
 turned Ames quickly. Then — "I'm going to attend a meeting of 
 the Council of American Grain Exchanges at two to-day. I 
 want you to be just outside the door." 
 
 Hodson nodded understandingly. Ames concluded, "I 
 guess that's all. I'm at the bank at ten; at the Board of Trade 
 at ten-thirty; Stock Exchange at eleven; and lunch at Rector's 
 at twelve sharp, returning here immediately afterward." 
 
 Hodson again bowed, and left the office to undertake his 
 various commissions. 
 
 For the next half hour Ames pored over the morning's 
 quota of letters and messages, making frequent notes, and often 
 turning to the telephone at his hand. Then he summoned a 
 stenographer and rapidly dictated a number of replies. Finally 
 he again called Willett. 
 
 "In my next vacant hour, following the one devoted to 
 Lafelle, I want to see Reverend Darius Borwell," he directed. 
 "Also," he continued, "wire Strunz that I want a meeting of 
 the Brewers' Union called at the earliest possible date. By the 
 way, ask Lafelle if he can spend the night with me on board 
 
 109 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the Cossack, and if so, notify Captain McCall. That will save 
 an hour in the day. Here is a bundle of requests for charity, 
 for contributions to hospitals, orphan asylums, and various 
 homes. Turn them all down, regretfully. H'm! 'Phone to the 
 City Assessor to come over whenever you can arrange an hour 
 and go over my schedule with me. By the way, tell Hood to 
 take steps at once to foreclose on the Bradley estate. Did you 
 find out where Ketchim does his banking?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied the secretary, "the Commercial State." 
 
 "Very well, get the president, Mr. Colson, on the wire." 
 
 A few moments later Ames had purchased from the Com- 
 mercial State bank its note against the Ketchim Realty Com- 
 pany for ten thousand dollars. "I thought Ketchim would be, 
 borrowing again," he chuckled, when he had completed the 
 transaction. "His brains are composed of a disastrous mixture 
 of hypocrisy and greed. I've thrown another hook into him 
 now." 
 
 At nine forty-five Ames left his private office and descended 
 in his elevator to the banking house on the second floor. He 
 entered the directors' room with a determined carriage, nod- 
 ding pleasantly to his associates. Taking his seat as chair- 
 man, he promptly called the meeting to order. 
 
 Some preliminary business occupied the first few minutes, 
 and then Ames announced: 
 
 "Gentlemen, when the State of New York offered the public 
 sixty millions of four per cent bonds last week, and I ad- 
 vised you to take them at a premium of six per cent, you 
 objected. I overruled you, and the bank bought the bonds.. 
 Within forty-eight hours they were resold at a premium of 
 seven per cent, and the bank cleared six hundred thousand. A 
 fair two days' business. Now let me suggest that the psychology 
 of this transaction is worth your study. A commodity is a 
 drug on the market at one dollar, until somebody is willing to 
 pay a dollar and a half for it. Then a lot of people will want 
 it, until somebody else offers a bid of two. Then the price will 
 soar, and the number of those who covet the article and 
 scramble for it will increase proportionably. Take this thought 
 home with you." 
 
 A murmur of admiration rose from the directors. "I 
 think," said one, "that we had better send Mr. Ames to Wash- 
 ington to confer with the President in regard to the proposed 
 currency legislation." 
 
 "That is already arranged," put in Ames. "I meet the 
 President next Thursday for a conference on this matter." 
 
 "And if he proves intractable?" queried another. 
 
 "Why, in that case," returned Ames with a knowing smile, 
 
 110 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "I think we had better give him a little lesson to take out of 
 office with him — one that will ruin his second-term hopes — 
 and then close our bank." 
 
 From the bank, the Board of Trade, the Stock Exchange, 
 and his luncheon with Senator Gossitch, Ames returned to his 
 office for the private interviews which his chief secretary had 
 arranged. Then followed further consultations with Hood 
 over the daily, weekly, and monthly reports which Ames re- 
 quired from all the various commercial, financial, and mining 
 enterprises in which he was interested; further discussions of 
 plans and schemes; further receipt and transmission of cable, 
 telegraphic, and telephone messages; and meetings with his 
 heads of departments, his captains, lieutenants, and minor 
 officers, to listen to their reports and suggestions, and to de- 
 liver his quick, decisive commands, admonitions, and advice. 
 From eight in the morning until, as was his wont, Ames closed 
 his desk and entered his private elevator at five-thirty in the 
 evening, his office flashed with the superenergy of the man, 
 with his intense activity, his decisive words, and his stu- 
 pendous endeavors, materialistic, absorptive, ruthless en- 
 deavors. If one should ask what his day really amounted to, 
 we can but point to these incessant endeavors and their re- 
 sults in augmenting his already vast material interests and his 
 colossal fortune^ a fortune which Hood believed ran well over a 
 hundred millions, and which Ames himself knew multiplied 
 that figure by five or ten. And the fortune was increasing at 
 a frightful pace, for he gave nothing, but continually drew to 
 himself, always and ever drawing, accumulating, amassing, 
 and absorbing, and for himself alone. 
 
 Snapping his desk shut, he held a brief conversation over 
 the wire with the Beaubien, then descended to his waiting car 
 and was driven hastily to his yacht, the Cossack, where Mon- 
 signor Lafelle awaited as his guest. It was one of the few 
 pleasures which Ames allowed himself during the warm 
 months, to drop his multifarious interests and spend the night 
 aboard the Cossack, generally alone, rocking gently on the rest- 
 less billows, so typical of his own heaving spirit, as the 
 beautiful craft steamed noiselessly to and fro along the coast, 
 well beyond the roar of the huge arena where human beings, 
 formed of dust, yet fatuously believing themselves made in the 
 image of infinite Spirit, strive and sweat, curse and slay, in 
 the struggle to prove their doubtful right to live. 
 
 Ill 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 13 
 
 THE Cossack, with its great turbines purring like a sleeping 
 kitten, and its twin screws turning lazily, almost im- 
 perceptibly in the dark waters, moved through the frosty 
 night like a cloud brooding over the deep. Yet it was a cloud 
 of tremendous potentiality, enwrapping a spirit of energy in- 
 carnate. From far aloft its burning eye pierced a channel of 
 light through the murky darkness ahead. In its wake it drew 
 a swell of sparkling phosphorescence, which it carelessly 
 tossed off on either side as a Calif might throw handfuls of 
 glittering coins to his fawning beggars. From somewhere in 
 the structure above, the crackling, hissing wireless mechanism 
 was thrusting its invisible hands out into the night and catch- 
 ing the fleeting messages that were borne on the intangible 
 pulsations of the mysterious ether. From time to time these 
 messages were given forin and body, and despatched to the 
 luxurious suite below, where, in the dazzling sheen of silver 
 and cut glass, spread out over richest napery, and glowing be- 
 neath a torrent of white light, sat the gigantic being whose 
 will directed the movements of this floating palace. 
 
 "You see, Lafelle, I look upon religion with the eye of the 
 cold-blooded business man, without the slightest trace of 
 sentimentalism. From the business standpoint, the Protestant 
 Church is a dead failure. It doesn't get results that are in any 
 way commensurate with its investment. But your Church is a 
 success — from the point of dollars and cents. In fact, in the 
 matter of forming and maintaining a monopoly, I take off my 
 hat to the Vatican. You fellows have got us all beaten. Every 
 day I learn something of value by studying your methods of 
 operating upon the public. And so you see why I take such 
 pleasure in talking with really astute churchmen like your- 
 self." 
 
 Monsignor Lafelle studied the man without replying, un- 
 certain just what interpretation to put upon the remark. The 
 Japanese servant was clearing away the remnants of the meal, 
 having first lighted the cigars of the master and guest. 
 
 "Now," continued Ames, leaning back in his luxurious chair 
 and musing over his cigar, "the purgatory idea is one of the 
 cleverest schemes ever foisted upon the unthinking masses, 
 and it has proved a veritable Klondike. Gad ! if I could think 
 up and put over a thing like that I'd consider myself really 
 possessed of brains." 
 
 Lafelle's eyes twinkled. "I fear, Mr. Ames," he replied 
 adroitly, "you do not know your Bible." 
 
 112 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "No, that's true. I don't suppose I ever in my life read a 
 whole chapter in the book. I can't swallow such stuff, Lafelle 
 — utterly unreasonable, wholly inconsistent with facts and 
 natural laws, as we know and are able to observe them. Even 
 as a child I never had any use for fairy-tales, or wonder- 
 stories. I always wanted facts, tangible, concrete, irrefutable 
 facts, not hypotheses. The Protestant churches hand out a 
 mess of incoherent guesswork, based on as many interpreta- 
 tions of the Bible as there are human minds sufficiently inter- 
 ested to interpret it, and then wax hot and angry when hard- 
 headed business men like myself refuse to subscribe to it. It's 
 preposterous, Lafelle! If they had anything tangible to offer, 
 it would be different. But I go to church for the looks of the 
 thing, and for business reasons ; and then stick pins into myself 
 to keep awake while I listen to pedagogical Borwell tell what he 
 doesn't know about God and man. Then at the close of the 
 service I drop a five-dollar bill into the plate for the enter- 
 tainment, and go away with the feeling that I didn't get my 
 money's worth. From a business point of view, a Protestant 
 church service is worth about twenty-five cents for the music, 
 and five cents for the privilege of sleeping on a soft cushion. 
 So you see I lose four dollars and seventy cents every time I 
 attend. You Catholic fellows, with your ceremonial and leger- 
 demain, give a much better entertainment. Besides, I like to 
 hear your priests soak it to their cowering flocks." 
 
 Lafelle sighed. "I shall have to class you with the incorri- 
 gibles," he said with a rueful air. "I am sorry you take such a 
 harsh attitude toward us. We are really more spiritual — " 
 
 Ames interrupted with a roar of laughter. "Don't! don't!" 
 he pleaded, holding up a hand. "Why, Lafelle, you old fraud, 
 I look upon your Church as a huge business institution, a 
 gigantic trust, as mercenary and merciless as Steel, Oil, or 
 Tobacco! Why, you and I are in the same business, that of 
 making money! And I'd like to borrow some of your methods. 
 You catch 'em through religion. I have to use other methods. 
 But the end is the same. Only, you've got it over me, for you 
 hurl the weight of centuries of authority upon the poor, trem- 
 bling public; and I have to beat them down with clubs of my 
 own making. Moreover, the law protects you in all your pious 
 methods; while I have to hire expensive legal talent to get 
 around it." 
 
 "You seem to be fairly successful, even at that," retorted 
 Lafelle. Then, too politic to draw his host into an acrimonious 
 argument that might end in straining their now cordial and 
 mutually helpful friendship, he observed, looking at his cigar: 
 "May I ask what you pay for these? — for only an inexhaustible 
 bank reserve can warrant their like." 
 
 113 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 He had struck the right chord, and Ames softened at 
 once. "These," he said, tenderly regarding the thick, black 
 weed in his fingers, "are grown exclusively for me on my own 
 plantation in Colombia. They cost me about one dollar and 
 sixty-eight cents each, laid down at my door in New York. I 
 searched the world over before I found the only spot where 
 such tobacco could be grown." 
 
 "And this wine?" continued Lafelle, lifting his* glass of 
 sparkling champagne. 
 
 "On a little hillside, scarcely an acre in extent, in Granada, 
 Spain," replied Ames. "I have my own wine press and bottling 
 plant there." 
 
 Lafelle could not conceal his admiration for this man of 
 luxury. "And does your exclusiveness extend also to your tea 
 and coffee?" he ventured, smiling. 
 
 "It does," said Ames. "I grow tea for my table in both 
 China and Ceylon. And I have exclusive coffee plantations in 
 Java and Brazil. But I'm now negotiating for one in Colombia, 
 for I think that, without doubt, the finest coffee in the world 
 is grown there, although it never gets beyond the coast line." 
 
 "Fortuna non deo," murmured the churchman; "you man 
 of chance and destiny!" 
 
 Ames laughed genially. "My friend," said he, "I have 
 always insisted that I possessed but a modicum of brains; but 
 I am a gambler. My god is chance. With ordinary judgment 
 and horse-sense, I take risks that no so-called sane man would 
 consider. The curse of the world is fear — the chief instrument 
 that you employ to hold the masses to your churchly system. 
 I was born without it. I know that as long as a business oppo- 
 nent has fear to contend with, I am his master. Fear is at the 
 root of every ailment of mind, body, or environment. I repeat, 
 I know not the meaning of the word. Hence my position in 
 the business world. Hence, also, my freedom from the limita- 
 tions of superstition, religious or otherwise. Do you get me?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Lafelle, drawing a long sigh, "in a sense I 
 do. But you greatly err, my friend, in deprecating your own 
 powerful intellect. I know of no brain but yours that could 
 have put South Ohio Oil from one hundred and fifty dollars up 
 to over two thousand a share. I had a few shares of that stock 
 myself. But I held until it broke," 
 
 Ames smiled knowingly. "Sorry I didn't know about it," 
 he said. "I could have saved you. I didn't own a dollar's 
 worth of South Ohio. Oh, yes," he added, as he saw Lafelle's 
 eyes widening in surprise, "I pushed the market up until a 
 certain lady, whom you and I both know, thought it unwise to 
 go further, and then I sprung the sudden discovery of Colom- 
 
 114 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 bian oil fields on them; and the market crashed like a burst 
 balloon. The lady cleared some two millions on the rig. No, 
 I didn't have a drop of Colombian oil to grease the chute. It 
 was American nerve, that's all." 
 
 "Well !" ejaculated Lafelle. "If you had lived in the Middle 
 Ages you'd have been burnt for possessing a devil!" 
 
 "On the contrary," quickly amended Ames, his eyes twink- 
 ling, "I'd have been made a Cardinal." 
 
 Both men laughed over the retort; and then Ames sum- 
 moned the valet to set in motipn the great electrical pipe-organ, 
 and to bring the whiskey and soda. 
 
 For the next hour the two men gave themselves up to the 
 supreme luxury of their magnificent environment, the stimula- 
 tion of their beverage and cigars, and the soothing effect of the 
 soft music, combined with the gentle movement of the boat. 
 Then Ames took his guest into the SQioking room proper, and 
 drew up chairs before a small table, on which were various 
 papers and writing materials. 
 
 "Now," he began, "referring to your telephone message of 
 this morning, what is it that you want me to do for you? Is 
 it the old question of establishing a nunciature at Washing- 
 ton?" 
 
 Lafelle had been impatiently awaiting this moment. He 
 therefore plunged eagerly into his subject. "Mr. Ames," said 
 he, "I know you to have great influence at the Capital. In 
 the interests of humanity, I ask you to use that influence to 
 prevent the passage of the immigration bill which provides for 
 a literacy test." 
 
 Ames smiled inwardly. There was no need of this request; 
 for, in the interests, not of humanity, but of his own steamship 
 companies, he intended that there should be no restriction 
 imposed upon immigration. But the Church was again playing 
 into his hands, coming to him for favors. And the Church 
 always paid heavily for his support. "Well! well!" he ex- 
 claimed with an assumption of interest, "so you ask me to 
 impugn my own patriotism!" 
 
 Lafelle looked perplexed. "I don't quite understand," he 
 said. 
 
 "Why," Ames explained, "how long do you figure it will 
 take, with unrestricted immigration, for the Catholics to so 
 outnumber the Protestants in the United States as to establish 
 their religion by law and force it into the schools?" 
 
 Lafelle flushed. "But your Constitution provides toleration 
 for all religions!" 
 
 "And the Constitution is quite flexible, and wholly subject 
 to amendment, is it not?" 
 
 115 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Lafelle flared out in unrestrained anger. 'JWhat a bugaboo 
 you Protestants make of Roman Catholicism!" he cried. "Oreat 
 heavens! Why, one would think that we Catholics were all 
 anarchists! Are we such a menace, such a curse to your 
 Republican institutions? Do you ever stop to realize what the 
 Church has done for civilization, and for your own country? 
 And where, think you, would art and learning be now but for 
 her? Have you any adequate idea what the Church is doing 
 to-day for the poor, for the oppressed? Good God! You Prot- 
 estants, a thousand times more intolerant than we, treat us 
 as if we were Hindoo pariahs ! This whole country is suffering 
 from the delirium of Roman Catholic-phobia! Will you drive 
 us to armed defense?" 
 
 "There, my friend, calm yourself," soothed Ames, laying a 
 hand on the irate churchman's arm. "And please do not class 
 me with the Protestants, for I am not one of them. You 
 Catholic fellows have made admirable gains in the past few 
 years, and your steady encroachments have netted you about 
 ninety per cent of all the political offices in' and about Wash- 
 ington, so you have no complaint, even if the Church isn't in 
 politics. H'm! So you want my help, eh?" 
 
 He stopped and drummed on the table. Meantime, his 
 brain was working rapidly. "By the way,, Lafelle," he said, 
 abruptly resuming the conversation, "you know all about 
 church laws and customs, running way back to mediaeval 
 times. Can't you dig up some old provision whereby I can 
 block a fellow who claims to own a gold mine down in Colom- 
 bia? If you can, I'll see that the President vetoes every ob- 
 noxious immigration bill that's introduced this term." 
 
 Lafelle roused from his sulk and gulped down his wrath. 
 Ames went on to express his desire for vengeance upon one 
 obscure Philip O. Ketchim, broker, promoter, church elder, 
 and Sunday school superintendent. Lafelle became interested. 
 The conversation grew more and more animated. Hours 
 passed. 
 
 Then at length Ames rose and rang for his valet. "My 
 God, Lafelle, the idea's a corker!" he cried, his eyes ablaze. 
 "Where'd you get it?" 
 
 Lafelle laughed softly. "From a book entitled 'Confessions 
 of a Roman Catholic Priest,* written anonymously, but, they 
 say, by a young attache of the Vatican who was insane at the 
 time. I never learned his name. However, he was apparently 
 well informed on matters Colombian." 
 
 "And what do you call the law?" 
 
 "The law of 'en manos muertas'," replied Lafelle. 
 
 "Well," exclaimed Ames, "again I take off my hat to your 
 
 116 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 churchly system ! And now," he continued eagerly, "cable the 
 Pope at once. I'll have the operator send your code ashore by 
 ■wireless, and the message will go to Rome to-night. Tell the 
 old man you've got influence at work in Washington that is — 
 well, more than strong, and that the prospects for defeating 
 the immigration bill are excellent." 
 
 Lafelle arose and stood for a moment looking about the 
 room. "Before I retire, my friend," he said, "I would like to 
 express again the admiration which the tasteful luxury of this 
 smoking room has aroused in me, and to ask, if I may, whether 
 those stained-glass windows up there are merely fanciful 
 portraits?" 
 
 Ames quickly glanced up at the faces of the beautiful 
 women portrayed in the rectangular glass windows which lined 
 the room just below the ceiling. They were exquisitely painted, 
 in vivid colors, and so set as to be illuminated during the day 
 by sunlight, and at night by strong electric lamps behind 
 them. "Why do you ask?" he inquired in wonder. 
 
 "Because," returned Lafelle, "if I mistake not, I have seen 
 a portrait similar to that one," pointing up at one of the win- 
 dows, where a sad, wistful face of rare loveliness looked down 
 upon them. 
 
 Ames started slightly. "Where, may I ask?" he said in a 
 controlled voice. 
 
 Lafelle reflected. In his complete absorption he had not 
 noticed the effect of his query upon Ames. "I do not know," 
 he replied slowly. "London— Paris — Berlin — no, not there. 
 And yet, it was in Europe, I am sure. Ah, I have it! In the 
 Royal Gallery, at Madrid." 
 
 Ames stared at him dully. "In the — Royal Gallery — at 
 Madrid!" he echoed in a low tone. 
 
 "Yes," continued Lafelle confidently, still studying the por- 
 trait, "I am certain of it. But," turning abruptly upon Ames, 
 "you may have known the original?" 
 
 Ames had recovered his composure. "I assure you I never 
 had that pleasure," he said lightly. "These art windows were 
 set in by the designer of the yacht. Clever idea, I thought. 
 Adds much to the general effect, don't you think? By the way, 
 if a portrait similar to that one hangs in the Royal- Gallery at 
 Madrid, you might try to learn the identity of the original for 
 me. It's quite interesting to feel that one may have the picture 
 of some bewitching member of royalty hanging in his own 
 apartments. By all means try to learn who the lady is — unless 
 you know." He stopped and searched the churchman's face. 
 
 But Lafelle shook his head. "No, I do not know her. But 
 ■ — that picture has haunted me from the day I first saw it in 
 the Royal Gallery. Who designed your yacht?" 
 
 117 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Crafts, of 'Storrs and Crafts,' " replied Ames. "But he 
 died a year ago. Storrs is gone, too. No help from that 
 quarter." 
 
 Lafelle moved thoughtfully toward the door. The valet 
 appeared at that moment. 
 
 "Show Monsignor to his stateroom," commanded Ames. 
 "Good night, Monsignor, good night. Remember, we dock at 
 seven-thirty, sharp." 
 
 Returning to the table, Ames sat down and rapidly com- 
 posed a message for his wireless operator to send across the 
 dark waters to the city, and thence to acting-Bishop Wenceslas, 
 in Cartagena. This done, he extinguished all the lights in the 
 room excepting those which illuminated the stained-glass win- 
 dows above. Drawing his chair up in front of the one which 
 had stirred Lafelle's query, he sat before it far into the morn- 
 ing, in absorbed contemplation, searching the sad features of 
 the beautiful face, pondering, revolving, sometimes murmur- 
 ing aloud, sometimes passing a hand across his brow, as if he 
 would erase from a relentless memory an impression made 
 long since and worn ever deeper by the recurrent thought of 
 many years. 
 
 CHAPTER 14 
 
 ALMOST within the brief period of a year, the barefoot, 
 calico-clad Carmen had been ejected from unknown 
 '^ Simiti and dropped into the midst of the pyrotechnical 
 society life of the great New World metropolis. Only an un- 
 usual interplay of mental forces could have brought about 
 such an odd result. But that it was a very logical outcome of 
 the reaction upon one another of human ambitions, fears, lust, 
 and greed, operating through the types of mind among which 
 her life had been cast, those who have followed our story thus 
 far can have no doubt. The cusp of the upward-sweeping curve 
 had been reached through the insane eagerness of Mrs. Haw- 
 ley-Crowles to outdo her wealthy society rivals in an arrogant 
 display of dress, living, and vain, luxurious entertaining, and 
 the acquisition of the empty honor attaching to social leader- 
 ship. The coveted prize was now all but within the shallow 
 woman's grasp. Alas! she knew not that when her itching 
 fingers closed about it the golden bauble would crumble to 
 ashes. 
 
 The program as outlined by the Beaubien had been faith- 
 fully followed. Mrs. J, Wilton Ames had met Mrs. Hawley- 
 Crowles — ^whom, of course, she had long desired to know more 
 
 118 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 intimately-7-and an interchange of calls had ensued, succeeded 
 by a grand reception at the Ames mansion, the first of the 
 social season. To this Mrs. Hawley-Crowles floated, as upon 
 a cloud, attired in a French gown which cost fifteen hundred 
 dollars, and shoes on her disproportioned feet for which she 
 had rejoiced to pay thirty dollars each, made as they had been 
 from specially selected imported leather, dyed to match her 
 rich robe. It was true, her pleasure had not been wholly un- 
 alloyed, for she had been conscious of a trace of supercilious- 
 ness on the part of some of the gorgeous birds of paradise, 
 twittering and hopping in their hampering skirts about the 
 Ames parlors, and pecking, with milk-fed content, at the rare 
 cakes and ices. But she only held her empty head the higher, 
 and fluttered about the more ostentatiously and clumsily, while 
 anticipating the effect which her charming and talented ward 
 would produce when she should make her bow to these same 
 vain, haughty devotees of the cult of gold. And she had 
 wisely planned that Carmen's ddbut should follow that of 
 Kathleen Ames, that it might eclipse her rival's in its wanton 
 display of magnificence. 
 
 On the heels of the Ames reception surged the full flood 
 of the winter's social orgy. Early in November Kathleen Ames 
 was duly presented. The occasion was made one of such 
 stupendous display that Mrs. Hawley-Crowles first gasped, then 
 shivered with apprehension, lest she be unable to outdo it. 
 She went home from it in a somewhat chastened frame of 
 mind, and sat down at her escritoire to make calculations. 
 Could she on her meager annual income of one hundred and 
 fifty thousand hope to meet the Ames millions? She had 
 already allowed that her wardrobe would cost not less than 
 twenty-five thousand dollars a year, to say nothing of the addi- 
 tional expense of properly dressing Carmen. But she now 
 saw that this amount was hopelessly inadequate. She there- 
 fore increased the figure to seventy-five thousand. But that 
 took half of her income. Could she maintain her city home, 
 entertain in the style now demanded by her social position, 
 and spend her summers at Newport, as she had planned? 
 Clearly, not on that amount. No, her income would not suffice; 
 she would be obliged to draw on the principal until Carmen 
 could be married off to some millionaire, or until her own 
 father died. Oh, if he would only terminate his useless ex- 
 istence soon! 
 
 But, in lieu of that delayed desideratum, some expedient 
 must be devised at once. She thought of the Beaubien. That 
 obscure, retiring woman was annually making her millions. 
 A tip now and then from her, a word of advice regarding the 
 
 119 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 market, and her own limited income would expand accord- 
 ingly. She had not seen the Beaubien since becoming a mem- 
 ber of Holy Saints. But on that day, and again, two months 
 later, when the splendid altar to the late lamented and pa- 
 triotic citizen, the Honorable James Hawley-Crowles, was dedi- 
 cated, she had marked the woman, heavily veiled, sitting alone 
 in the rear of the great church. What had brought her there? 
 she wondered. She had shuddered as she thought the tall, 
 black-robed figure typified an ominous shadow falling athwart 
 her own foolish existence. 
 
 But there was no doubt of Carmen's hold on the strange, 
 tarnished woman. And so, smothering her doubts and pocket- 
 ing her pride, she again sought the Beaubien, ostensibly in re- 
 gard to Carmen's forthcoming debut; and then, very adroitly 
 and off-handedly, she brought up the subject of investments, 
 alleging that the added burden of the young girl now rendered 
 it necessary to increase the rate of interest which her securi- 
 ties were yielding. 
 
 The Beaubien proved herself the soul of candor and gen- 
 erosity. Not only did she point out to Mrs. Hawley-Crowles 
 how her modest income might be quadrupled, but she even 
 offered, in such a way as to make it utterly impossible for that 
 lady to take offense, to lend her whatever amount she might 
 need, at any time, to further Carmen's social conquest. And 
 during the conversation she announced that she herself was 
 acting on a suggestion dropped by the great financier, Ames, 
 and was buying certain stocks now being offered by a coming 
 power in world finance, Mr. Philip O. Ketchim. 
 
 Why, to be sure, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles had heard of this 
 man! Was he not promoting a company in which her sister's 
 husband, and the girl herself, were interested? And if such 
 investments were good enough for a magnate of Ames's stand- 
 ing, they certainly were good enough for her. She would see 
 Mr. Ketchim at once. Indeed, why had she not thought of 
 this before! She would get Carmen to hypothecate her own 
 interest in this new company, if necessary. That interest of 
 itself was worth a fortune. 
 
 Quite true. And if Mrs. Hawley-Crowles and Carmen so 
 desired, the Beaubien would advance them whatever they might 
 need on that security alone; Or, she would take the personal 
 notes of Mrs. Hawley-Crowles — "For, you know, my dear," 
 she said sweetly, "when your father passes away you are going 
 to be very well off, indeed, and I can afford to discount that 
 inevitable event somewhat, can I not?" And she not only could, 
 but did. 
 
 Then Mrs. Hawley-Crowles soared into the empyrean, and 
 
 120 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 this self-absorbed woman, who never in her life had earned 
 the equivalent of a single day's food, launched the sweet, white- 
 souled girl of the tropics upon the oozy waters of New York 
 society with such eclat that the Sunday newspapers devoted 
 a whole page, profusely illustrated, to the gorgeous event and 
 dilated with much extravagance of expression upon the charms 
 of the little Inca princess, and upon the very important and 
 gratifying fact that the three hundred fashionable guests pres- 
 ent displayed jewels to the value of not less than ten million 
 dollars. 
 
 The function took the form of a musicale, in which Car- 
 men's rich voice was first made known to the beau monde. 
 The girl instantly swept her auditors from their feet. The 
 splendid pipe-organ, which Mrs. Hawley-Crowles had hurriedly 
 installed for the occasion, became a thing inspired under her 
 deft touch. It seemed in that garish display of worldliness to 
 voice her soul's purity, its wonder, its astonishment, its la- 
 ment over the vacuities of this highest type of human society, 
 its ominous threats of thundered denunciation on the day when 
 her tongue should be loosed and the present mesmeric spell 
 broken — for she was under a spell, even that of this new world 
 of tinsel and material veneer. 
 
 The decrepit old Mrs. Gannette wept on Carmen's shoulder, 
 and went home vowing that she would be a better woman and 
 cut out her night-cap of Scotch-and-soda. Others crowded 
 about the girl and showered their fulsome praise upon her. 
 But not so Mrs. Ames and her daughter Kathleen. They stared 
 at the lovely debutante with wonder and chagrin written legi- 
 bly upon their bepowdered visages. And before the close of 
 the function Kathleen had become so angrily jealous that she 
 was grossly rude to Carmen when she bade her good night. 
 For her own feeble light had been drowned in the powerful 
 radiance of the girl from Simiti. And from that moment the 
 assassination of the character of the little Inca princess was 
 decreed. 
 
 But, what with incessant striving to adapt herself to her 
 environment, that she might search its farthest nook and angle; 
 what with ceaseless efforts to check her almost momentary 
 impulse to cry out against the vulgar display of modernity and 
 the vicious inequity of privilege which she saw on every hand; 
 what with her purity of thought; her rare ideals and selfless 
 motives; her boundless love for humanity; and her passionate 
 desire to so live her "message" that all the world might see 
 and light their lamps at the torch of her burning love for God 
 and her fellow-men, Carmen found her days a paradox, in that 
 they were literally full of emptiness. After her dibut, event 
 
 121 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 followed event in the social life of the now thoroughly gay 
 metropolis, and the poor child found herself hustled home 
 from one function, only to change her attire and hurry again, 
 weary of spirit, into the waiting car, to be whisked off to an- 
 other equally vapid. It seemed to the bewildered girl that she 
 would never learn what was de rigueur; what conventions 
 must be observed at one social event, but amended at another. 
 Her tight gowns and limb-hampering skirts typified the soul- 
 limitation of her tinsel environment; her high-heeled shoes 
 were exquisite torturer and her corsets, which her French 
 maid drew until the poor girl gasped for air, seemed to her 
 the cruellest device ever fashioned by the vacuous, enslaved 
 human mind. Frequently she changed her clothing completely 
 three and four times a day to meet her social demands. Night 
 became day; and she had to learn to sleep until noon. She 
 found no time for study; none even for reading. And conversa- 
 tion, such as was indulged under the Hawley-Crowles roof, 
 was confined to insipid society happenings, with frequent 
 sprinklings of racy items anent divorce, scandal, murder, or 
 the debauch of manhood. From this she drew more and more 
 aloof and became daily quieter. 
 
 It was seldom, too, that she could escape from the jaded 
 circle of society revelers long enough to spend a quiet hour 
 with the Beaubien. But when she could, she would open the 
 reservoirs of her soul and give full vent to her pent-up emo- 
 tions. "Oh," she would often exclaim, as she sat at the feet 
 of the Beaubien in the quiet of the darkened music room, and 
 gazed into the crackling fire, "how can they — how can they!" 
 
 Then the Beaubien would pat her soft, glowing cheek and 
 murmur, "Wait, dearie, wait." And the tired girl would sigh 
 and close her eyes and dream of the quiet of little Simiti and 
 of the dear ones there from whom she now heard no word, 
 and yet whom she might not seek, because of the war which 
 raged about her lowly birthplace. 
 
 The gay season was hardly a month advanced when Mrs. 
 Ames angrily admitted to herself that her own crown was in 
 gravest danger. The South American girl— and because of her, 
 Mrs. Hawley-Crowles and her blase sister — had completely 
 captured New York's conspicuous circle. Mrs. Hawley-Crowles 
 apparently did not lack for funds, but entertained with a dis- 
 play of reckless disregard for expense, and a carelessness of 
 critical comment, that stirred the city to its depths and aroused 
 expressions of wonder and admiration on every hand. The- 
 newspapers were full of her and her charming ward. Surely, 
 if the girl's social prestige continued to soar, the Ames family 
 soon would be relegated to the social "has-beens." And Mrs. 
 
 122 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Ames and her haughty daughter held many a serious con- 
 ference over their dubious prospects. 
 
 Ames himself chuckled. Night after night, when the Beau- 
 bien's dinner guests had dispersed, he would linger to discuss 
 the social war now in full progress, and to exchange with her 
 witty comments on the successes of the combatants. One night 
 he announced, "Lafelle is in England; and when he returns he 
 is coming by way of the West Indies. I shall cable him to 
 stop for a week at Cartagena, to see Wenceslas on a little mat- 
 ter of business for me." 
 
 The Beaubien smiled her comprehension. "Mrs. Hawley- 
 Crowles has become nicely enmeshed in his net," she returned. 
 "The altar to friend Jim is a beauty. Also, I hear that she is 
 going to finance Ketchim's mining company in Colombia." 
 
 "Fine!" said Ames. "I learned to-day that Ketchim's engi- 
 neer, Harris, has returned to the States. Couldn't get up the 
 Magdalena river, on account of the fighting. There will be 
 nothing doing there for a year yet." 
 
 "Just as well,", commented the Beaubien. Then abruptly 
 — "By the way, I now hold Mrs. Hawley-Crowles's notes to the 
 amount of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I want 
 you to buy them from me and be ready to turn the screws 
 when I tell you." 
 
 Ames roared with laughter. "Shrewd girl!" he exclaimed, 
 pinching her cheek. "All right. I'll take them off your hands 
 to-morrow. And by the way, I must meet this Carmen." 
 
 "You let her alone," said the Beaubien quickly in a low 
 voice. 
 
 Ames wondered vaguely what she meant. 
 
 The inauguration of the Grand Opera season opened to 
 Mrs. Hawley-Crowles another avenue for her astonishing social 
 activities. With rare shrewdness she had contrived to outwit 
 Mrs. Ames and secure the center box in the "golden horse- 
 shoe" at the Metropolitan. There, like a gaudy garden spider 
 in its glittering web, she sat on the opening night, with her 
 rapt protegee at her side, and sent her insolent challenge broad- 
 cast. Multimillionaires and their haughty, full-toileted dames 
 were ranged on either side of her, brewers and packers, dis- 
 tillers and patent medicine concoctors, railroad magnates and 
 Board of Trade plungers, some under indictment, others under 
 the shadow of death, all under the mesmeric charm of gold. 
 In the box at her left sat the Ames family, with their newly 
 arrived guests, the Dowager Duchess of Altern and her son. 
 Though inwardly boiling, Mrs. Ames was smiling and affable 
 when she exchanged calls with the gorgeous occupants of the 
 Hawley-Crowles box. 
 
 123 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "So chawraed to meet 'you," murmured the heir of Altern, 
 a callow youth of twenty-three, bowing over the dainty, gloved 
 hand of Carmen. Then, as he adjusted his monocle and fixed 
 his jaded eyes upon the fresh young girl, "Bah Jove!" 
 
 The gigantic form of Ames wedged in between the young 
 man and Carmen. "I've heard a lot about you," he said genial- 
 ly, in a heavy voice that harmonized well with his huge frame; 
 "but we haven't had an opportunity to get acquainted until to- 
 night." 
 
 For some moments he stood holding her hand and looking 
 steadily at her. The girl gazed up at him with her trustful 
 brown eyes alight, and a smile playing about her mouth. 
 "My, but you are big!" she naively exclaimed. 
 
 While she chatted brightly Ames held her hand and laughed 
 at her frank, often witty, remarks. But then a curious, eager 
 look came into his face, and he became quiet and reflective. 
 He seemed unable to take his eyes from her. And when the 
 girl gently drew her hand from his he laughed again, nervously, 
 
 "I — I know something about Colombia," he said, "and speak 
 the language a bit. We'll have to get together often, so's I 
 can brush up." 
 
 Then, apparently noticing Mrs. Hawley-Crowles and her 
 sister for the first time — "Oh, so glad to see you both ! Camor- 
 so's in fine voice to-night, eh?" 
 
 He wheeled about and stood again looking at Carmen, until 
 she blushed under his close gaze and turned her head away. 
 Then he went back to his box. But throughout the evening, 
 whenever the girl looked in the direction of the Ames family, 
 she met the steady, piercing gaze of the man's keen gray eyes. 
 And they seemed io her like sharp steel points, cutting into 
 the portals of her soul. 
 
 Night after night during the long season Carmen sat in the 
 box and studied the operas that were produced on the boards 
 before her wondering gaze. Always Mrs. Hawley-Crowles was 
 with her. And generally, too, the young heir of Altern was 
 there, occujpying the chair next to the girl — which was quite as 
 the solicitous Mrs. Hawley-Crowles had planned. 
 
 "Aw — deucedly fine show to-night. Miss Carmen," the youth 
 ventured one evening, as he took his accustomed place close to 
 her. 
 
 "The music is always beautiful," the girl responded. "But 
 the play, like most of Grand Opera, is drawn from the darkest 
 side of human life. It is a sordid picture of licentiousness and 
 cruelty. Only for its setting in wonderful music. Grand Opera 
 is generally such a depiction of sex-passion, of lust and mur- 
 der, that it would not be permitted on the stage. A few years 
 
 124 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 from now people will be horrified to remember that the pre- 
 ceding generation reveled in such blood scenes — just as we 
 now speak with horror of the gladiatorial contests in ancient 
 Rome." 
 
 The young man regarded her uncertainly. "But — aw — Miss 
 Carmen," he hazarded, "we must be true to life, you, know!" 
 Having delivered himself of this oracular statement, the youth 
 adjusted his monocle and settled back as if he had given final- 
 ity to a weighty argument. 
 
 The girl looked at him pityingly. "You voice the cant of 
 tha modern writer, 'true to life.' True to the horrible, human 
 sense of life, that looks no higher than the lust of blood, and 
 is satisfied with it, I admit. True to the unreal, temporal 
 sense of existence, that is here to-day, and to-morrow has gone 
 out in the agony of self-imposed suffering and death. True 
 to that awful, "false sense of life which we must put off if we 
 would ever rise into the consciousness of real life, I grant you. 
 But the production of these horrors on the stage, even in a 
 framework of marvelous music, serves only to hold before us 
 the awful models from which we must turn if we would hew 
 out a better existence. Are you the better for seeing an exhibi- 
 tion of wanton murder on the stage, even though the partici- 
 pants wondrously sing their words of vengeance and passion?" 
 
 "But — aw — they serve as warnings; they show us the things 
 we ought not to do, don't you know." 
 
 She smiled. "The sculptor who would chisel a beautiful 
 form, does he set before him the misshapen body of a hunch- 
 back, in order that he may see what not to carve?" she asked. 
 "And we who would transform the human sense of life into one 
 of freedom from evil, can we build a perfect structure with 
 such grewsome models as this before us? You don't see it 
 now," she sighed; "you are in the world, and of it; and the 
 world is deeply under the mesmeric belief of evil as a stern 
 reality. But the day is coming when our musicians and au- 
 thors will turn from such base material as this to nobler themes 
 — themes which will excite our wonder and admiration, and 
 stimulate the desire for purity of thought and deed — themes 
 that will be beacon lights, and true guides. You don't under- 
 stand. But you will, some day." 
 
 Mrs, Hawley-Crowles frowned heavily as she listened to 
 this conversation, and she drew a sigh of relief when Carmen, 
 sensing the futility of any attempt to impress her thought upon 
 the young man, turned to topics which he could discuss with 
 some degree of intelligence. 
 
 Late in the evening Ames dropped in and came directly to 
 the Hawley-Crowles box. He brought a huge box of imported 
 
 42 125 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 candy and a gorgeous bouquet of orchids, which he presented 
 to Carmen. Mrs. Hawley-Crowles beamed upon him like the 
 effulgent midday sun. 
 
 "Kathleen wants you, Reggy," Ames abruptly announced to 
 the young man, whose lips were molding into a pout. "Little 
 gathering up at the house. Take my car." His huge bulk 
 loomed over the younger man like a mountain as he took him 
 by the shoulders and turned him toward the exit. 
 
 "But I wish to see the opera!" protested the youth, with 
 a vain show of resistance. 
 
 Ames said nothing; but his domineering personality forced 
 the boy out of the box and into the corridor. 
 
 "But— Uncle Wilton—!" 
 
 Ames laughed curtly. Then he took the seat which his 
 evicted nephew had vacated, and bent over Carmen. With 4i 
 final hopeless survey of the situation, Reginald turned and de- 
 scended to the cloak room, muttering dire but futile threats 
 against his irresistible relative. 
 
 "Now, little girl!" Ames's manner unconsciously assumed 
 an air of patronage. "This is^the first real opportunity I've 
 had to talk with you. Tell me, what do you think of New 
 York?" 
 
 Carmen smiled up at him. "Well," she began uncertainly, 
 "since I have thawed out, or perhaps have become more ac- 
 customed to the cold, I have begun to make mental notes. Al- 
 ready I have thousands of them. But they are not yet classi- 
 fied, and so I can hardly answer your question, Mr. Ames. But 
 I am sure of one thing, and that is that for the first few months 
 I was here I was too cold to even think!" 
 
 Ames laughed. "Yes," he agreed, "the change from the 
 tropics was somewhat abrupt. But, aside from the climate?" 
 
 "It is like awaking from a deep sleep," answered Carmen 
 meditatively. "In Simiti we dream our lives away. In New 
 York all is action; loud words; harsh commands; hurry; rush; 
 endeavor, terrible, materialistic endeavor! Every person I see 
 seems to be going somewhere. He may not know where he is 
 going — but he is on the way. He may not know why he is 
 going — but he must not be stopped. He has so few years to 
 live; and he must pile up money before he goes. He must own 
 an automobile ; he must do certain things which his more fortu- 
 nate neighbor does, before his little fiame of life goes out and 
 darkness falls upon him. I sometimes think that people here 
 are trying to get away from themselves, 'but they don't know 
 it. I think they come to the opera because they crave any sort 
 of diversion that will make them forget themselves for a few 
 moments, don't you?" 
 
 126 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "H'm! well, I can't say," was Ames's meaningless reply, as 
 he sat regarding the girl curiously. 
 
 "And," she continued, as if pleased to have an auditor who 
 at least pretended to understand her, "the thing that now 
 strikes me most forcibly is the great confusion that prevails 
 here in everything, in your government, in your laws, in your 
 business, in your society, and, in particular, in your religion. 
 Why, in that you have hundreds of sects claiming a monopoly 
 of truth; you have hundreds of churches, hundreds of religious 
 or theological beliefs, hundreds of differing concepts of God — 
 but you get nowhere! Why, it has come to such a pass that, 
 if Jesus were to -appear physically on earth to-day, I am sure 
 he would be evicted from his own Church!" 
 
 "Well, yes, I guess that's so," commented Ames, quite at 
 sea in such conversation. "But we solid business men have 
 found that religious emotion never gets a man anywhere. It's 
 weakening. Makes a man effeminate, and utterly unfits him 
 for business. I wouldn't have a man in my employ who was a 
 religious enthusiast." 
 
 "But Jesus was a religious enthusiast," she protested. 
 
 "I doubt if there ever was such a person," he answered 
 dryly. 
 
 "Why, the Bible—" 
 
 "Is the most unfortunate and most misunderstood piece of 
 literature ever written," he interrupted. "And the Church, 
 well, I regard it as the greatest fraud ever perpetrated upon the 
 human race." 
 
 "You mean that to apply to every church?" 
 
 "It fits them all." 
 
 She studied his face for a few moments. He returned her 
 glance as steadily. But their thoughts were running in widely 
 divergent channels. The conversational topic of the moment 
 had no interest whatsoever for the man. But this brilliant, 
 sparkling girl — there was something in those dark eyes, that 
 soft voice, that brown hair— by what anomaly did this beauti- 
 ful creature come out of desolate, mediaeval Simiti? 
 
 "Mr. Ames, you do not know what religion is." 
 
 "No? Well, and what is it?" 
 
 "It is that which binds us to God." 
 
 "And that?" 
 
 "Love." 
 
 No, he knew not the meaning of the word. Or — wait — did 
 he? His thought broke restraint and flew wildly back — but he 
 caught it, and rudely forced it into its wonted channel. But, 
 did he love his fellow-men? Certainly not! What would that 
 profit him in dollars and cents? Did he love his wife? his 
 
 127 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 children? The thought brought a cynical laugh to his lips. 
 Carmen looked up at him wonderingly. "You will have to^ 
 you know," she said quixotically. 
 
 Then she reached out a hand and laid it on his. He looked 
 down at it, so soft, so white, so small, and he contrasted it 
 with the huge, hairy bulk of his own. This little girl was 
 drawing him. He felt it, felt himself yielding. He was be- 
 ginning to look beyond the beautiful features, the rare grace 
 and charm of physical personality, which had at first attracted 
 only the baser qualities of his nature, and was seeing glimpses 
 of a spiritual something which lay bajck of all that — ^infinitely 
 more beautiful, unspeakably richer, divine, sacred, untouch- 
 able. 
 
 "Of course you will attend the Charity Ball, Mr. Ames?" 
 The thin voice of Mrs. Hawley-Crowles jarred upon his ear 
 like a shrill discord. Ames turned savagely upon her. Then 
 he quickly found himself again. 
 
 "No," he laughed harshly. "But I shall be represented by 
 my family. And you?" He looked at Carmen. 
 
 "Most assuredly," returned Mrs. Hawley-Crqwles, taking 
 the query to herself. "That is, if my French dressmaker does 
 not fail me. She is dreadfully exasperating! What will Mrs. 
 Ames wear, do you think?" She arched her brows at him as 
 she propounded this innocent question. 
 
 Ames chuckled. "I'll tell you what it is this year," he 
 sagely replied. "It's diamonds in the heels!" He gave a 
 sententious nod of his head. "I overheard Kathleen and her 
 mother discussing plans. And — do you want to know next 
 season's innovation? By George! I'm a regular spy." He 
 stopped and laughed heartily at his own treasonable deceit. 
 
 "Yes! yes!" whispered Mrs. Hawley-Crowles eagerly, as she 
 drew her chair closer. "What is it?" - 
 
 "One condition," replied Ames, holding up a thick finger. 
 
 "Of course! Anything!" returned the grasping woman. 
 
 "Well, I want to get better acquainted with your charming 
 ward," he whispered. 
 
 "Of course; and I want you to know her better. That can 
 be arranged very easily. Now what's the innovation?" 
 
 "Colored wigs," said Ames, with a knowing look. 
 
 Mrs. Hawley-Crowles settled back with a smile of supreme 
 satisfaction. She would boldly anticipate next season at the 
 coming Charity Ball. Then, leaning over toward Ames, she 
 laid her fan upon his arm. "Can't you manage to come and see 
 us some time, my sister and Carmen? Any time," she added. 
 "Just call me up a little in advance." 
 
 The blare of trumpets and the crash of drums drew their 
 
 128 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 attention again to the stage. Ames rose and bowed his de- 
 parture. A business associate in a distant box had beckoned 
 him. Mrs. Hawley-Crowles dismissed him reluctantly; then 
 turned her .wandering attention to the play. 
 
 But Carmen sat shrouded in thoughts that were not stimu- 
 lated by the puppet-show before her. The tenor shrieked out 
 his tender passion, and the tubby soprano sank into his inade- 
 quate arms with languishing sighs. Carmen heeded not their 
 stage amours. She saw in the glare before her- the care-lined 
 face of the priest of Simiti; she saw the grim features and 
 set jaw of her beloved, black-faced Rosendo, as he led her 
 through the dripping jungle; she saw Anita's blind, helpless 
 babe; she saw the little newsboy of Cartagena; and her heart 
 welled with a great love for them all; and she buried her face 
 in her hands and wept softly. 
 
 CHAPTER 15 
 
 "TTTAIT, my little princess, wait," the Beaubien had said, 
 
 y Y when Carmen, her eyes flowing and her lips quivering, 
 
 had again thrown herself into that strange woman's 
 
 arms and poured out her heart's surcease. "It will not be 
 
 long now. I think I see the cloUds forming." 
 
 "I want to go back to Simiti, to Padre Jose, to my home," 
 wailed the girl. "I don't understand the ways and the thoughts 
 of these people. They don't know God — they don't know what 
 love is — they don't know anything but money, and clothes, and 
 sin, and death. When I am with them I gasp, I choke — " 
 
 "Yes, dearest, I understand," murmured the woman softly, 
 as she stroked the brown head nestling upon her shoulder. 
 "It is social asphyxia. And many even of the 'four hundred* 
 are suffering from the same disease; but they would die rather 
 than admit it. Poor, blind fools!" 
 
 To no one could the attraction which had drawn Carmen 
 and the Beaubien together seem stranger, more inexplicable, 
 than to that lone woman herself. Yet it existed, irresistible. 
 And both acknowledged it, nor would have had it otherwise. 
 To Carmen, the Beaubien was a sympathetic confidante and a 
 wise counselor. The girl knew nothing of the woman's past 
 or present life. She tried to see in her only the reality which 
 she sought in every individual — the reality which she felt that 
 Jesus must have seen clearly back of every frail mortal con- 
 cept of humanity. And in doing this, who knows? — she may 
 have transformed the sordid, soiled woman of the world into 
 
 129 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 something more than a broken semblance of the image of God. 
 To the Beaubien, this rare child, the symbol of love, of purity, 
 had become a divine talisman, touching a dead soul into a 
 sense of life before unknown. If Carmen leaned upon her, she, 
 on the other hand, bent daily closer to the beautiful girl; 
 opened her slowly warming heart daily wider to her; twined 
 her lonely arms daily closer about the radiant creature who 
 had come so unexpectedly into her empty, sinful life. 
 
 "But, mother dear" — the Beaubien had long since begged 
 Carmen always to address her thus when they were sharing 
 alone these hours of confidence — "they will not listen to my 
 message! They laugh and jest about real things!" 
 
 "True, dearie. And yet you tell me that the Bible says 
 wise men laughed at the great teacher, Jesus." 
 
 "Oh, yes ! And his message — oh, mother dearest, his mes- 
 sage would have helped them so, if they had only accepted it! 
 It would have changed their lives, healed their diseases, and 
 saved them from death. And my message" — her lip quivered 
 — "my message is only his — it is the message of love. But 
 they won't let me tell it." 
 
 "Then, sweet, live it. They can not prevent that, can they?" 
 
 "I do live it. But — I am so out of place among them. They 
 scoff at real things. They mock all that is noble. Their talk 
 is so coarse, so low and degraded. They have no culture. 
 They worship money. They don't know what miserable fail- 
 ures they all are. And Mrs. Hawley-Crowles^ — " 
 
 The Beaubien's jaw set. "The social cormorant!" she mut- 
 tered. 
 
 " — she will not let me speak of God in her house. She told 
 me to keep my views to myself and never voice them to her 
 friends. And she says I must marry either a millionaire or a 
 foreign noble." 
 
 "Humph! And become a snobbish expatriate! Marry a 
 decadent count, and then shake the dust of this democratic 
 country from your feet forever! Go to London or Paris or 
 Vienna, and wear tiaras and coronets, and speak of disgrace- 
 ful, boorish America in hushed whispers! The empty-headed 
 fool! She forgets that the tarnished name she bears was 
 dragged up out of the ruck of the impecunious by me when I 
 received Jim Crowles into my house! And that I gave him 
 what little gloss he was able to take on!" 
 
 "Mother dear — I would leave them — only, they need love, 
 oh, so much!" 
 
 The Beaubien strained her to her bosom. "They need you, 
 dearie; they little realize how they need you! I, myself, did 
 not know until you came to me. There, I didn't mean to let 
 
 130 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 those tears get away from me." She laughed softly as Carmen 
 looked up anxiously into her face. "Now come," she went on 
 brightly, "we must plan for the Charity Ball." 
 
 A look of pain swept over the girl's face. The Beaubien 
 bent and kissed her. "Wait, dearie," she repeated. "You will 
 not leave society voluntarily. Keep your light burning. They 
 can not extinguish it. They will light their own lamps at 
 yours — or they will thrust you from their doors. And then," 
 she muttered, as her teeth snapped together, "you will come to 
 me." 
 
 Close on the heels of the opera season followed the Charity 
 Ball, the Horse Show, and the Fashion Show in rapid succes- 
 sion, with numberless receptions, formal parties, and non- 
 descript social junketings interspersed. During these fleeting 
 hours of splash and glitter Mrs. Hawley-Crowles trod the air 
 with the sang-froid and exhilaration of an expert aviator. 
 Backed by the Beaubien millions, and with the wonderful 
 South American girl always at her right hand, the worldly 
 ambitious woman swept everything before her, cut a social 
 swath far wider than the glowering Mrs. Ames had ever at- 
 tempted, and marched straight to the goal of social leadership, 
 almost without interference. She had apparently achieved 
 other successes, too, of the first importance. She had secured 
 the assistance of Ames himself in matters pertaining to her 
 finances; and the Beaubien was actively cooperating with her 
 in the social advancement of Carmen. It is true, she gasped 
 whenever her thought wandered to her notes which the Beau- 
 bien held, notes which demanded every penny of her principal 
 as collateral. And she often meditated very soberly over the 
 large sums which she had put into the purchase of Simiti stock, 
 at the whispered suggestions of Ames, and under the irre- 
 sistibly pious and persuasive eloquence of Philip O. Ketchim, 
 now president of that flourishing but as yet ,non-productive 
 company. But then, one day, an idea occurred to her, and she 
 forthwith summoned Carmen into the library. 
 
 "You see, my dear," she said, after expounding to the girl 
 certain of her thoughts anent the famous mine, "I do not want 
 Mr. Ketchim to have any claim upon you for the expense which 
 he incurred on account of your six months in the Elwin school. 
 That thought, as well as others relating to your complete pro- 
 tection, makes it seem advisable that you transfer to me your 
 share in the mine, or in the Simiti company. See, I give you a 
 receipt for the same, showing that you have done this as part 
 payment for the great expense to which I have been put in 
 introducing you to society and in providing for your wants 
 here. It is merely formal, of course. And it keeps your share 
 
 131 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 still in our family, of which you are and always will be a 
 member; but yet removes all liability from you. Of course, 
 you know nothing about business matters, and so you must 
 trust me implicitly. Which I am sure you do, in view of 
 what I have done for you, don't you, dear?" 
 
 Of course Carmen did; and of course she unhesitatingly 
 transferred her claim on La Libertad to the worthy Mrs. Haw- 
 ley-Crowles. Whereupon the good woman tenderly kissed the 
 innocent child, and clasped a string, of rich pearls about the 
 slender, white neck. And Carmen later told the Beaubien, 
 who said nothing, but frowned darkly as she repeated the 
 tidings over her private wire to J. Wilton Ames. But that 
 priest of finance only chuckled and exclaimed: "Excellent, 
 my dear! Couldn^t be better ! By the way, I had a cable from 
 Lafelle this morning, from Cartagena. Oh, yes, everything's 
 all right. Good-bye." But the Beaubien hung up the receiver 
 with a presentiment that everything was far from right, de- 
 spite his bland assurance. And she regretted bitterly now 
 that she had not warned Carmen against this very thing. 
 
 The Charity Ball that season was doubtless the most bril- 
 flant function of its kind ever held among a people who deny 
 the impossible. The newspapers had long vied with one an- 
 other in their advertisements and predictions; they afterward 
 strove mightily to outdo themselves in their vivid descriptions 
 of the gorgeous fete. The decorative effects far excelled any- 
 thing ever attempted in the name of "practical" charity. The 
 display of gowns had never before been even closely approxi- 
 mated. The scintillations from jewels whose value mounted 
 into millions was like the continuous flash of the electric spark. 
 And the huge assemblage embraced the very cream of the 
 nobility, the aristocracy, the rich and exclusive caste of a great 
 people whose Constitution is founded on the equality of men, 
 and who are wont to gather thus annually for a few; hours to 
 parade their material vestments and divert their dispirited 
 mentalities under the guise of benefaction to a class for whom 
 they rarely hold a loving thought. 
 
 Again the subtle Mrs. Hawley-Crowles had planned and 
 executed a coup. Mrs. Ames had subscribed the munificent 
 sum of twenty-five thousand dollars to charity a week before 
 the ball. Mrs. Hawley-Crowles had waited for this. Then 
 she gloated ds she telephoned to the various newspaper ofiices 
 that her subscription would be fifty thousand. Did she give 
 a new note to the Beaubien for this amount? That she did — 
 and she obtained the money on the condition that the little 
 Inca princess should lead the grand march. Of course, Mrs. 
 Hawley-Crowles knew that she must gracefully yield first place 
 
 132 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 to the South American girl; and yet she contrived to score a 
 triumph in apparent defeat. For, stung beyond endurance, 
 Mrs. Ames and her daughter Kathleen at the last moment 
 refused to attend the function, alleging fatigue from a season 
 unusually exacting. The wily Mrs. Hawley-Crowles had pre- 
 viously secured the languid young Duke of Altern as a partner 
 for Carmen — and then was most agreeably thwarted by Ames 
 himself, who, learning that his wife and daughter would not 
 attend, abruptly announced that he himself would lead the 
 march with Carmen. 
 
 Why not? Was it not quite proper that the city's leading 
 man of finance sTiould, in the absence of his wife and daughter, 
 and with their full and gratuitous permission — nay, at their 
 urgent request, so it was told — lead with this ifair young dam- 
 sel, this tropical flower, who, as rumor had it, was doubtless 
 a descendant of the royal dwellers in ancient Cuzco? 
 
 "Quite proper, tempora, mores!" murmured one Amos 
 A. Hitt, erstwhile Presbyterian divine, explorer, and gentleman 
 of leisure, as he settled back in his armchair in the fashionable 
 Weltmore apartments and exhaled a long stream of tobacco 
 smoke through his wide nostrils. "And, if I can procure a 
 ticket, I shall give myself the pleasure of witnessing this sacred 
 spectacle, produced under the deceptive mask of charity," he 
 added. 
 
 In vain the Beaubien labored with Ames when she learned 
 of his intention — though she said nothing to Carmen. Ames 
 had yielded to her previously expressed wish that he refrain 
 from calling at the Hawley-Crowles mansion, or attempting to 
 force his attentions upon the young girl. But in this matter 
 he remained characteristically obdurate. And thereby a little 
 rift was started. For the angry Beaubien, striving to shield 
 the innocent girl, had vented her abundant wrath upon the 
 affable Ames, and had concluded her denunciation with a hint 
 of possible exposure of certain dark facts of which she was 
 sole custodian. Ames smiled, bowed, and courteously kissed 
 her hand, as he left her stormy presence; but he did not yield. 
 And Carmen went to the Ball. 
 
 Through the perfumed air and the garish light tore the 
 crashing notes of the great band. The loud hum of voices 
 ceased, and all eyes turned to the leaders of the grand march, 
 as they stepped forth at one end of the great auditorium. Then 
 an involuntary murmur arose from the multitude — a murmur 
 of admiration, of astonishment, of envy. The gigantic form of 
 Ames stood like a towering pillar, the embodiment of potential 
 force, the epitome of human power, physical and mental. His 
 massive shoulders were thrown back as if in haughty defiance 
 
 133 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 of comment, critical or commendatory. The smile which flitted 
 about his strong, clean-shaven face bespoke the same caution 
 as the gentle uplifting of a tiger's paw — behind it lay all that 
 was humanly terrible, cunning, heartless, and yet, in a sense, 
 fascinating. His thick, brown hair, scarcely touched with gray, 
 lay about his great head like a lion's mane. He raised a hand 
 and gently pushed it back over the lofty brow. Then he bent 
 and offered an arm to the slender wisp of a girl at his side. 
 
 "Good God!" murmured a tall, angular man in the crowd. 
 "Who is she?" 
 
 "I don't know, Hitt," replied the friend addressed. "But 
 they say she belongs to the Inca race." 
 
 The graceful girl moving by the side of her giant escort 
 seemed like a slender ray of light, a radiant, elfish form, trans- 
 parent, intangible, gliding softly along with a huge, black 
 shadow. She was simply clad, all in white. About her neck 
 hung a string of pearls, and at her waist she wore the rare 
 orchids which Ames had sent her that afternoon. But no one 
 saw her dress. No one marked the pure simplicity of her 
 attire. The absence of sparkling jewels and resplendent rai- 
 ment evoked no comment. The multitude saw but her won- 
 derful face; her big eyes, uplifted in trustful innocence to the 
 massive form at her side; her rich brown hair, which glittered 
 like string-gold in the strong light that fell in torrents upon it. 
 
 "Hitt, she isn't human! There's a nimbus about her head!" 
 
 "I could almost believe it," whispered that gentleman, 
 straining his long neck as she passed before him. "God! has 
 she fallen into Ames's net?" 
 
 Immediately behind Carmen and Ames strode the enrap- 
 tured Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, who saw not, neither heard," and 
 who longed for no further taste of heaven than this stupendous 
 triumph which she had won for herself and the girl. Her 
 heavy, unshapely form was squeezed into a marvelous cos- 
 tume of gold brocade. A double ballet ruffle of stiff white tulle 
 encircled it about the hips as a drapery. The bodice was of 
 heavy gold net. A pleated band of pale moire, in a delicate 
 shade of pink, crossed the left shoulder and was caught at the 
 waist in a large rose bow, ambassadorial style. A double neck- 
 lace of diamonds, one bearing a great pendant of emeralds, and 
 the other an alternation of emeralds and jiiamonds, encircled 
 her short, thick neck. A diamond coronet fitted well around 
 her wonderful amber-colored wig — for, true to her determina- 
 tion, she had anticipated the now passde Mrs. Ames and had 
 boldly launched the innovation of colored wigs among the 
 smart set. An ivory, hand-painted fan, of great value, dangled 
 from her thick wrist. And, as she lifted her skirts to an un- 
 
 134 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 necessary height, the gaping people caught the glitter of a row 
 of diamonds in each high, gilded heel. 
 
 At her side the young Duke of Altern shuffled, his long, thin 
 body curved like a kangaroo, and his monocle bent super- 
 ciliously upon the mass of common clay about him. "Aw, 
 beastly crush; ye know," he murmured from time to time to 
 the unhearing dame at his right. And then, as she replied not, 
 he fell to wondering if she fully realized who he was. 
 
 Around and across the great hall the gorgeous pageant 
 swept. The big-mouthed horns bellowed forth their noisy 
 harmony. In the distant corridors great illuminated fountains 
 softly plashed. At the tables beyond, sedulous, touting waiters 
 were hurriedly extracting corks from frosted bottle necks. 
 The rare porcelain and cut glass shone and glittered in rain- 
 bow tints. The revelers waxed increasingly merry and care- 
 free as they lightly discussed poverty over rich viands and 
 sparkling Burgundy. Still further beyond, the massive oak 
 doors, with their leaded-glass panes, shut out the dark night 
 and the bitter blasts of winter. And they shut out, too, another, 
 but none the less unreal, externalization of the mortal thought 
 which has found expression in a social system "too wicked for 
 a smile." 
 
 "God, no— I'd get arrested! I can't!" 
 
 The frail, hungry woman who stood before the great doors 
 clutched her wretched shawl closer about her thin shoulders. ■ 
 Her teeth chattered as she stood shivering in the chill wind. 
 Then she hurried away. 
 
 At the corner of the building the cold blast almost swept 
 her off her feet. A man, dirty and unkempt, who had been 
 waiting in an alley, ran out and seized her. 
 
 "I say, Jude, ain't ye goin' in? Git arrested — ^ye'd spend the 
 night in a warm cell, an' that's better'n our bunk, ain't it?" 
 
 "I'm goin' to French Lucy's," the woman whispered 
 hoarsely. "I'm dead beat!" 
 
 "Huh ! Ye've lost yer looks, Jude, an' ol' Lucy ain't a-goin' 
 to take ye in. We gotta snipe somepin quick — or starve! 
 Look, we'll go down to Mike's place, an' then come back here 
 when it's out, and ye kin pinch a string, or somepin, eh? Gawd, 
 it's cold!" 
 
 The woman glanced back at the lights. For a moment she 
 stood listening to the music from within. A sob shook her, 
 and she began to cough violently. The man took her arm, not 
 unkindly; and together they moved away into the night. 
 
 ¥ « « ¥ - Y ¥ 
 
 "Well, little girl, at last we are alone. Now we can ex- 
 change confidences." It was Ames talking. He had, late in 
 
 135 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the evening, secured seats well hidden behind a mass of palms, 
 and thither had led Carmen. "What do you think of it all? 
 Quite a show, eh? Ever see anything like this in Simiti?" 
 
 Carmen looked up at him. She thought him wonderfully 
 handsome. She was glad to get away for a moment from the 
 crowd, from the confusion, and from the unwelcome attentions 
 of the now thoroughly smitten young Duke of Altern. 
 
 "No," she Anally made answer, "I didn't know there were 
 such things in the world." 
 
 Ames laughed pleasantly. How refreshing was this ingenu- 
 ous girl! And what a discovery for him! A new toy — one 
 that would last a long time. But he must be careful of her. 
 
 "Yes," he went on genially, "I'll wager there's millions of 
 dollars' worth of jewelry here to-night." 
 
 "Oh!" gasped Carmen. "And are the people going to sell it 
 and give the money to the poor?" 
 
 "Sell it! Ha! ha! Well, I should say not!" 
 
 "But — this is a — a charity — " 
 
 "Oh, I see. Quite so. No, it's the money derived from the 
 sale of tickets that goes to the poor." 
 
 "And how much is that?" 
 
 "I haven't the slightest idea." 
 
 "But — aren't you interested in the poor?" 
 
 "Of course, of course," he hastened to assure her, in his 
 . easy casual tone. 
 
 For a long time the girl sat reflecting, while he studied 
 her, speculating eagerly on her next remark. Then it came 
 abruptly : 
 
 "Mr. Ames, I have thought a great deal about it, and I think 
 you people by your charity, such as this, only make more char- 
 ity necessary. Why don't you do away with poverty alto- 
 gether?" 
 
 "Do away with it? Well, that's quite impossible, you know. 
 'The poor ye have always with you', eh? You see, I know my 
 Bible." 
 
 She threw him a glance of astonishment. He was mocking 
 her! She was deeply serious, for charity to her meant love, 
 and love was all in all. 
 
 "No," she finally replied, shaking her head, "you do not 
 know your Bible. It is the poor thought that you have always 
 with you, the thought of separation from good. And that 
 thought becomes manifested outwardly in what is called 
 poverty." 
 
 He regarded her quizzically, while a smile played about his 
 mouth. 
 
 "Why don't you get at the very root of the trouble, and de- 
 
 136 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 stroy the poverty-thought, the thought that there can be any 
 separation from God, who is infinite good?" she continued ear- 
 nestly. 
 
 "Well, my dear girl, as for me, I don't know anything about 
 God. As for you, well, you are very innocent in worldly mat- 
 ters. Poverty, like death, is inevitable, you know." 
 
 "You are mistaken," she said simply. "Neither is inevita- 
 ble." 
 
 "Well, well," he returned brightly, "that's good news ! Then 
 there is no such thing as 'the survival of the fittest,' and the 
 weak needn't necessarily sink, eh?" 
 
 She looked him squarely in the eyes. "Do you consider, Mr. 
 Ames, that you have survived as one of the fittest?" 
 
 "H'm! Well, now — what would you say about that?" 
 
 "I should say decidedly no," was the blunt reply. 
 
 A dark shade crossed his face, and he bit his lip. People 
 did not generally talk thus to him. And yet — this wisp of a 
 girl! Pshaw! She was very amusing. And, heavens above! 
 how beautiful, as she sat there beside him, her head erect, and 
 her face delicately flushed. He reached over and took her hand. 
 Instantly she drew it away. 
 
 "You are the kind," she went on, "who give money to the 
 poor, and then take it away from them again. All the money 
 which these rich people here to-night are giving to charity has 
 been wrested from the poor. And you give only a part of it 
 back to them, at that. This Ball is just a show, a show of 
 dress and jewels. Why, it only sets an example which makes 
 others unhappy, envious, and discontented. Don't you see 
 that? You ought to." 
 
 "My dear little girl," he said in a patronizing tone, "don't 
 you think you are assuming a great deal? I'm sure I'm not 
 half so bad as you paint me." 
 
 Carmen smiled. "Well, the money you give away has got 
 to come from some source, hasn't it? And you manipulate the 
 stock market and put through wheat corners and all that, and 
 catch the poor people and take their money from them ! Char- 
 ity is love. But your idea of charity makes me pity you. Up 
 here I find a man can pile up hundreds of millions by stifling 
 competition, by. debauching legislatures, by piracy and legalized 
 theft, and then give a tenth of it to found a university, and so 
 atone for his crimes. That is called charity. Oh, I know a lot 
 about such things! I've been studying and thinking a great 
 deal since I came to the United States." 
 
 "Have you come with a mission?" he bantered. And there 
 was a touch of aspersion in his voice. 
 
 "I've come with a message," she replied eagerly. 
 
 137 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Well," he said sharply, "let me warn and advise you : don't 
 join the ranks of the muck-rakers, as most ambitious reformers 
 •with messages do. We've plenty of 'em now. I can tear down 
 as easily as you or anybody else. But to build something better 
 is entirely another matter." 
 
 "But, Mr. Ames, I've got something better!" 
 
 "Yes?" His tone spoke incredulous irony. "Well, what ii 
 it, if I may ask?" 
 
 "Love." 
 
 "Love, eh? Well, perhaps that's so," he said, bending to- 
 ward her and again attempting to take her hand. 
 
 "I guess," she said, drawing back quickly, "you don't know 
 what love is, do you?" 
 
 "No," he whispered softly. "I don't really believe I do. Will 
 you teach me?" 
 
 "Of course I will," she said brightly. "But you'll have to 
 live it. And you'll have to do just as I tell you," holding up an 
 admonitory finger. 
 
 "I'm yours to command, little woman," he returned in mock 
 seriousness. 
 
 "Well," she began very softly, "you must first learn that 
 love is just as much a principle as the Binomial Theorem in 
 algebra. Do you know what that is? And you must apply it 
 just as you would apply any principle, to everything. And, oh, 
 it is important!" 
 
 "You sweet little thing," he murmured absently, gazing 
 down into her glowing face. "Who taught you such stufl? 
 Where did you learn it? I wonder — I wonder if you really are 
 a daughter of the Incas." 
 
 She leaned back and laughed heartily. "Yes," she said, "I 
 am a princess. Of course! Don't I look like one?" 
 
 "You look like — I wonder — pshaw!" he passed his hand 
 across his eyes. "Yes, you certainly are a princess. And — do 
 you know?— I wish I might be your prince." 
 
 "Oh, you couldn't! Padre Jose has that honor." But then 
 her bright smile faded, and she looked off wistfully down the 
 long corridor. 
 
 "Who is he?" demanded Ames savagely. "I'll send him a 
 challenge to-night!" 
 
 "No," she murmured gently, "you can't. He's way down 
 in Simiti. And, oh, he was so good to me ! He made me leave 
 that country on account of the war." 
 
 The man started slightly. This innocent girl little knew 
 that one of the instigators of that bloody revolution sat there 
 beside her. Then a new thought flashed into his brain. "What 
 is the full name of this priest?" he suddenly asked. 
 
 138 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Jose — Jose de Rincon," she whispered reverently. 
 
 Jose de Rinc6n — of Simiti — whom Wenceslas had made the 
 scapegoat of the revolution! Why, yes, that was the man! 
 And who, according to a recent report from Wenceslas, had 
 been arrested and — 
 
 "A^ — a — where did you say this — this Jose was, little girl?" 
 he asked gently. 
 
 "In Simiti," she replied. "He is working out his problem." 
 
 His eyes shifted quickly from hers. But he could not hold 
 them away. 
 
 "His problem?" 
 
 "Yes. You know, he never was a priest at heart. But, 
 though he saw the truth, in part, he was not able to prove it 
 enough to set himself free; and so when I came away he stayed 
 behind to work out his problem. And he will work it all out," 
 she mused abstractedly, looking off into the distance; "he will 
 work it all out and come-.— to me. I am — I am working with 
 him, now — and for him. ' And—" her voice dropped to a 
 whisper, "I love him, oh, so much!" 
 
 Ames's steely eyes narrowed. His mouth opened; then 
 shut again with a sharp snap. That beautiful creature now 
 belonged to him, and to none other! Were there other claim- 
 ants, he would crush them without mercy ! As for this apostate 
 priest, Jose — humph ! if he still lived he should rot the rest of 
 his days in the reeking dungeons of San Fernando! 
 
 Carmen looked up. "When he comes to me," she said 
 softly, "we are going to give ourselves to the whole world." 
 
 Ames appeared not to hear. 
 
 "And — ^perhaps — ^perhaps, by that time, you will be — ^be — " 
 
 "Well?" snapped the man, irritated by the return of her 
 thought to himself. 
 
 "Different," finished the girl gently. 
 
 "Humph! Different, eh?" 
 
 "Yes. Perhaps by that time you will — ^you will love every- 
 body," she murmured. "Perhaps you won't go on piling up 
 big mountains of money that you can't use, and that you won't 
 let anybody else use." 
 
 Ames frowned upon her. "Yes?" he said ironically. 
 
 "You will know then that Jesus founded his great empire on 
 love. Your empire, you know, is human business. But you 
 will find that such empires crumble and fall. And yours will, 
 like all the rest." 
 
 "Say," he exclaimed, turning full upon her and seeming to 
 bear her down by his tremendous personality, "you young and 
 inexperienced reformers might learn a few things, too, if your 
 prejudices could be surmounted. Has it ever occurred to you 
 
 139 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 that we men of business think not so much about accumulat- 
 ing money as about achieving success? Do you suppose you 
 could understand that money-making is but a side issue with 
 us?" 
 
 "Achieving success!" she echoed, looking wonderingly at 
 him. "Well — are you — a success?" 
 
 He started to reply. Then he checked himself. A flush 
 stole across his face. Then his eyes narrowed. 
 
 "Yes," the girl went on, as if in quiet soliloquy, "I suppose 
 you are — a tremendous worldly success. And this Ball — it is 
 a splendid success, too. Thotisands of dollars will be raised for 
 the poor. And then, next year, the same thing will have to be 
 done again. Your charities cost you hundreds of millions every 
 year up here. And, meantime, you rich men will go right on 
 making more money at the expense of your fellow-men — and 
 you will give a little of it to the poor when the next Charity 
 Ball comes around. It's like a circle,, isn't it?" she said, smiling 
 queerly up at him. "It has no end, you know." 
 
 Ames had now decided to swallow his annoyance and meet 
 the girl with the lance of frivolity. "Yes, I guess that's so," he 
 began. "But of course you will admit that the world is slowly • 
 getting better, and that world-progress must of necessity be 
 gradual. We can't reform all in a minute, can we?" 
 
 She shook her head. "I don't know how fast you might re- 
 form if you really, sincerely tried. But I think it would be 
 very fast. And if you, a great, big, powerful man, with the 
 most wonderful opportunities in the world, should really try 
 to be a success, why — ^well, I'm sure you'd make very rapid 
 progress, and help others like you by setting such a great ex- 
 ample. For you are a wonderful man — ^you really are." 
 
 Ames looked at her long and quizzically. What did the girl 
 mean? Then he took her hand, this time without resistance. 
 
 "Tell me, little girl — although I know there can be no doubt 
 of it — are you a success ?" 
 
 She raised her luminous eyes to his. "Yes," she replied 
 simply. 
 
 He let fall her hand in astonishment. "Well!" he ejaculated, 
 "would you mind telling me just why?" 
 
 She smiled up at him, and her sweet trustfulness drew his 
 sagging heartstrings suddenly taut. 
 
 "Because," she said simply, "I strive every moment to 'ac- 
 quire that mind which was in Christ Jesus.' " 
 
 Silence fell upon them. From amusement to wonder, to 
 irritation, to anger, then to astonishment, and a final approxi- 
 mation to something akin to reverent awe had been the swift 
 course of the man's emotions as he sat in this secluded nook 
 
 140 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 beside this strange girl. The poisoned arrows of his -worldly 
 thought had hroken one by one against the shield of her pro- 
 tecting faith. His badinage had returned to confound himself. 
 The desire to possess had utterly fled before the conviction that 
 such thought was as wildly impossible as iniquitous. 
 
 Then he suddenly became conscious that the little body be- 
 side him had drawn closer — that it was pressing against him — 
 that a little hand had stolen gently into his — and that a soft 
 voice, soft as the summer winds that sigh among the roses, was 
 floating to his ears. 
 
 "To be really great is to be like that wonderful man, Jesus. 
 It is to know that through him the great Christ-principle worked 
 and did those things which the world will not accept, because it 
 thinks them miracles. It is to know that God is love, and to 
 act that knowledge. It is to know that love is the Christ-princi- 
 ple, and that it will destroy every error, every discord, every- 
 thing that is unlike itself. It is to yield your present false 
 sense of happiness and good to the true sense of God as in- 
 finite good. It is to bring every thought into captivity to this 
 Christ-principle, love. It is to stop looking at evil as a reality. 
 It is to let go your hold on it, and let it fade away before the 
 wonderful truth that God is ever3rwhere, and that there isn't 
 anything apart from Him. Won't you try it? You will have 
 to, some day. I have tried it. I know it's true. I've proved it." 
 
 How long they sat in the quiet that followed, neither knew. 
 Then the man suffered himself to be led silently back to the 
 ball room again. And when he had recovered and restored his 
 worldly self, the bright little image was no longer at his side. 
 
 * ^ * f l^ If 
 
 "Stand here, Jude, an* when they begins to come out to their 
 gasoline carts grab anything ye can, an' git. I'll work over by 
 the door,'.' 
 
 The shivering woman crept closer to the curb, and the man 
 slouched back against the wall close to the exit from which the 
 revelers would soon emerge. A distant clock over a jeweler's 
 window chimed the hour of four. A moment later the door 
 opened, and a lackey came out and loudly called the number of 
 the Hawley-Crowles car. That ecstatically happy woman, with 
 Carmen and the obsequious young Duke of Altern, , appeared 
 behind him in the flood of light. 
 
 As the big car drew softly up, the wretched creaiture whom 
 the man had called Jude darted from behind it and plunged full 
 at Carmen. But the girl had seen her coming, and she met her 
 with outstretched arm. The glare from the open door fell full 
 upon them. 
 
 "Jude!" 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "God!" cried the woman. "It's the little kid!" 
 
 She turned to flee. Carmen held her. With a quick move- 
 ment the girl tore the string of pearls from her neck and thrust 
 it into Jude's hand. The latter turned swiftly and darted into 
 the blackness of the street. Then Carmen hurriedly entered 
 the car, followed by her stupified companions. It had all been 
 done in a moment of time. 
 
 "Good heavens!" cried Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, when she had 
 recovered her composure sufficiently to speak. "What does this 
 mean? What did you do?" 
 
 But Carmen replied not. And the Duke of Altern rubbed 
 his weak eyes and tried hard to think. 
 
 CHAPTER 16 
 
 BEFORE Mrs. Hawley-Crowles sought her bed that morning 
 the east was red with the winter sun. "The loss of the 
 pearls is bad enough," she exclainied in conclusion, glow- 
 ering over the young girl who sat before her, "for I paid a good 
 three thousand for the string! But, in addition, to scandalize 
 me before the world — oh, how could you? And this unspeaka- 
 ble Jude — and that awful house — heavens, girl! Who would 
 believe your story if it should get out?" The worried woman's 
 face was bathed in cold perspiration. 
 
 "But — she saved me from — from that place," protested the 
 harassed Carmen. "She was poor and cold — I could see that. 
 Why should I have things that I don't need when others are 
 starving?" 
 
 Mrs. Hawley-Crowles shook her weary head in despair. Her 
 sister, Mrs. Reed, who had sat fixing the girl with her cold 
 eyes throughout the stormy interview following their return 
 from the ball, now offered a suggestion. "The thing to do is to 
 telephone immediately to all the newspapers, and say that her 
 beads were stolen last night." 
 
 "But they weren't stolen," asserted the girl. "I gave them 
 to her—" 
 
 "Go to, your room!" commanded Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, at 
 the limit of her endurance. "And never, under any circum- 
 stances, speak of this affair to any one — never!" 
 
 The social crown, which had rested none too securely upon 
 the gilded wig of the dynamic Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, had been 
 given a jolt that set it tottering. 
 
 ♦ » • ♦ » ♦ 
 
 It was very clear to Mrs. J. Wilton Ames after the Charity 
 
 142 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Ball that she was engaged in a warfare to the death, and with 
 the most relentless of enemies. Nothing short of the miraculous 
 could now dethrone the detested Mrs. Hawley-Crowles and her 
 beautiful, mysterious ward. She dolefully acknowledged to 
 herself and to the sulking Kathleen that she had been asleep, 
 that she had let her foot slip, and that her own husband's con- 
 duct in leading the grand march with Carmen bade fair to give 
 the coup de grace to a social prestige which for many weeks 
 had been decidedly on the wane. 
 
 "Mamma, we'll have to think up some new stunts," said the 
 dejected Kathleen over the teacups the noon following the ball. 
 "Why, they've even broken into the front page of the news- 
 papers with a fake jewelry theft! Look, they pretend that the 
 little minx was robbed of her string of pearls last night on 
 leaving the hall. I call that pretty cheap notoriety!" 
 
 Mrs. Ames's lip curled in disdain as she read the news 
 item. "An Inca princess, indeed! Nobody knows who she is, 
 nor what! Why doesn't somebody take the trouble to inves- 
 tigate her? They'd probably find her an outcast." 
 
 "Couldn't papa look her up?" suggested Kathleen. 
 
 Mrs. Ames did not reply. She had no wish to discuss her 
 husband, after the affair of the previous evening. And, even 
 •in disregard of that, she would not have gone to him with the 
 matter. For she and her consort, though living under the 
 same roof, nevertheless saw each other but seldom. At times 
 they met in the household elevator; and for the sake of ap- 
 pearances they managed to dine together with Kathleen in a 
 strained, unnatural way two or three times a week, at which 
 times no mention was ever made of the son who had been 
 driven from the parental roof. There were no exchanges of 
 confidences or affection, and Mrs. Ames knew but little of the 
 working of his mentality. She was wholly under the dominance 
 of her masterful husband, merely an accessory to his mode of 
 existence. He used her, as he did countless others, to buttress 
 a certain side of his very complex life. As for assistance in 
 determining Carmen's status, there was none to be obtained 
 from him, strongly attracted by the young girl as he had al- 
 ready shown himself to be. Indeed, she might be grateful if 
 the attachment did not lead to far unhappier consequences! 
 
 "Larry Beers said yesterday that he had something new," 
 she replied irrelevantly to Kathleen's question. "He has in 
 tow a Persian dervish, who sticks knives through his mouth, 
 and drinks melted lead, and bites red-hot pokers, and a lot of 
 such things. Larry says he's the most wonderful he's ever 
 seen, and I'm going to have him and a real Hindu swami for 
 next Wednesday evening." 
 
 143 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 New York's conspicuous set indeed would have languished 
 often but for the social buffoonery of the clever Larry Beers, 
 who devised new diversions and stimulating mental condiments 
 for the jaded brains of that gilded cult. His table ballets, his 
 bizarre parlor circuses, his cunningly devised fads in which he 
 set forth his own inimitable antics, won him the motley and 
 the cap and bells of this tinseled court, and forced him well 
 out into the glare of publicity, which was what he so much 
 desired. ' 
 
 And by that much it made him as dangerous as any stupid 
 anarchist who toils by candle-light over his crude bombs. For 
 by it he taught the great mass of. citizenship who still retained 
 their simple ideals of reason and respect that there existed a 
 social caste, worshipers of the golden calf, to whom the simple, 
 humdrum virtues were quite unendurable, and who, utterly 
 devoid of conscience, would quaff champagne and dance on the 
 raw, quivering hearts of their fellow-men with glee, if thereby 
 their jaded appetites for novelty and entertainment might be 
 for the moment appeased. 
 
 And so Larry Beers brought his swami and dervish to the 
 Ames mansion, and caused his hostess to be well advertised 
 in the newspapers the following day. And h.e caused the eyes 
 of Carmen to bulge, and her thought to swell with wonder, as. 
 she gazed. And he caused the bepowdered nose of Mrs. Hawley- 
 Crowles to stand a bit closer to the perpendicular, while she 
 sat devising schemes to cast a shade over this clunisy enter- 
 tainment. 
 
 The chief result was that, a week later, Mrs. Hawley- 
 Crowles, still running true to form, retorted with a superb 
 imitation of the French Bal de I'Opera, once so notable under 
 the Empire^ The Beaubien had furnished the inspiring idea — 
 and the hard cash. 
 
 "I wonder why I do it?" that woman had meditated. "Why 
 do I continue to lend her money and take her notes? I wanted 
 to ruin her, at first. I don't — I don't seem to feel that way 
 now. Is it because of Carmen? Of is it because I hate that 
 Ames woman so? I wonder if I do still hate her? At any rate 
 I'm glad to see Carmen oust the proud hussy from her place. 
 It's worth all I've spent, even if I burn the notes I hold against 
 Jim Crowles's widow." 
 
 And often after that, when at night the Beaubien had sought 
 her bed, she would lie for hours in the dim light meditating, 
 wondering. "It's Carmen!" she would always conclude. "It's 
 Carmen. She's making me over again. I'm not the same 
 woman I was when she came into my life. Oh, God bless her 
 — if there is a God!" 
 
 144 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The mock Bal de I'Opera was a magnificent fete. All the 
 members of the smart set were present, and many appeared in 
 costumes representing flowers, birds, and vegetables. Carmen 
 went as a white rose; and her great natural beauty, set off by 
 an exquisite costume, .made her the fairest flower of the whole 
 garden. The Duke of Altern, costumed as a long carrot, fawned 
 in her wake throughout the evening. The tubbily girthy Gan- 
 nette, dressed to represent a cabbage, opposed her every step 
 as he bobbed before her, showering his viscous compliments 
 upon the graceful creature. Kathleen Ames appeared as a 
 bluebird; and she would have picked the fair white rose to 
 pieces if she could, so wildly jealous did she become at the 
 sight of Carmen's further triumph. 
 
 About midnight, when the revelfy was at its height, a door 
 at the end of the hall swung open, and a strong searchlight 
 was turned full upon it. The orchestra burst into the wailing 
 dead march from Saul, and out through the glare of light 
 stalked the giant form of J. Wilton Ames, gowned in dead black 
 to represent a King Vulture, and with a blood-red fez sur- 
 mounting his cruel mask. As he stepped out upon the plat- 
 form which had been constructed to represent the famous 
 bridge in "Sumurun," and strode toward the main floor, a 
 murmur involuntarily rose from the assemblage. It was a 
 murmur of awe, of horror, of fear. Th^ "monstrum horren- 
 dum" of Poe was descending upon them in the garb which alone 
 could fully typify the character of the man ! When he reached 
 the end of, the bridge the huge creature stopped and distended 
 his enormous sable wings. 
 
 "Good God!" cried Gannette, as he thought of his tre- 
 mendous financial obligations to Ames. 
 
 Carmen shuddered and turned away from the awful spec- 
 tacle. "I want to go," she said to the petrified Mrs. Hawley- 
 Crowles, who had known nothing of this feature of the pro- 
 gram. 
 
 Straight to the trembling, white-clad girl the great, black 
 vulture stalked. The revelers fell away from him on either 
 side as he approached. Carmen turned again and watched him 
 come. Her face was ashen. "God is everywhere," she mur- 
 mured. 
 
 Then her anxious look faded. A light came into her eyes, 
 and a smile wreathed her mouth. And when Ames reached her 
 and extended his huge, black wings again, she walked straight 
 into them with a look of joy upon her beautiful face. Then the 
 wings closed and completely hid the fair, white form from the 
 gaping crowd. 
 
 For a few moments dead silence reigned throughout the 
 
 145 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 hall. Then the orchestra crashed, the vulture's wings slowly 
 opened, and the girl, who would have gone to the stake with 
 the same incomprehensible smile, stepped out. The black 
 monster turned and strode silently, ominously, back to the end 
 of the hall, crossed the bridge, and disappeared through the 
 door which opened at his approach. 
 
 "I'm going home!" said the shaken Gannette to his perspir- 
 ing wife. "That looks bad to me! That girl's done for; and 
 Ames has taken this way to publicly announce the fact! My 
 God!" 
 
 There was another astonished watcher in the audience that 
 evening. It was the eminent Monsignor Lafelle, recently back 
 from Europe by way of the West Indies. And after the episode 
 just related, he approached Carmen and Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. 
 
 "A very clever, if startling, performance," he commented; 
 "and with two superb actors, Mr. Ames and our little friend 
 here," bowing over Carmen's hand. 
 
 "I am so glad you could accept our invitation, Monsignor. 
 But, dear me ! I haven't got my breath yet," panted the steam- 
 ing Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. "Do take us, Monsignor, to the 
 refectory. I feel faint." 
 
 A few moments later. Over their iced drinks, Lafelle was 
 relating vivid incidents of his recent travels, and odd bits of 
 news from Cartagena. "No, Miss Carmen," he said, in reply to 
 her anxious inquiries, "I did not meet the persons you have 
 mentioned. And as for getting up the Magdalena river, it 
 would have been quite impossible. Dismiss from your mind all 
 thought of going down there now. Cartagena is tense with 
 apprehension. The inland country is seething. And the little 
 town of Simitl which you mention, I doubt not it is quite shut 
 off from the world by the war." 
 
 Carmen turned aside that he might not see the tears which 
 welled into her eyes. 
 
 "Your entertainment. Madam," continued Lafelle, addressing 
 the now recovered Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, "is superb, as have 
 been all of -your social projects this winter, I learn. The 
 thought which you expressed to me some months ago regard-, 
 ing Catholic activity in social matters certainly was well 
 founded. I perceive that our Protestant rivals have all but 
 retired from the field." 
 
 Mrs. Hawley-Crowles swelled with pride. Carmen regarded 
 the churchman with wonder. 
 
 "And have you not found a sense of peace, of satisfaction 
 and comfort, since you united with the true Church?" Lafelle 
 went on. "Are you not at last at rest?" 
 
 "Quite so," sighed the lady, though the sigh was scarcely 
 one of unalloyed relief. 
 
 146 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Lafelle turned to Carmen. "And our little friend here — 
 can she still remain an alien, now that she has some knowledge 
 of her indebtedness to the Church?" 
 
 Carmen looked blank. "My indebtedness to the Church!" 
 she repeated. "Why — " 
 
 It was now Lafelle's turn to sigh, as he directed himself 
 again to Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. "She does not see. Madam, that 
 it was by the ladder of Holy Church that she mounted to her 
 present enviable social height." 
 
 "But — what — ^what do you mean?" stammered the bewil- 
 dered girl. 
 
 "May I not come and explain it to her?" said Lafelle. Then 
 he suddenly thought of his last conversation with the Beaubien. 
 But he shrugged his shoulders, and a defiant look sat upon 
 his features. 
 
 Mrs. Hawley-Crowles dared not refuse the request. She 
 knew she was now too deeply enmeshed for resistance, and 
 that Lafelle's control over her was complete — unless she dared 
 'to face social and financial ruin. And under that thought she 
 paled and grew faint, for it raised the curtain upon chaos and 
 black night. 
 
 "Would it be convenient for me to call to-morrow after- 
 noon?" continued the churchman. 
 
 "Certainly," murmured Mrs. Hawley-Crowles in a scarcely 
 audible voice. 
 
 "By the way," Lafelle said, suddenly turning the conversa- 
 tion, "how, may I ask, is our friend. Madam Beaubien?" 
 
 Mrs. Hawley-Crowles again trembled slightly. "I — I have 
 not seen her much of late, Monsignor," she said feebly. 
 
 "A strong and very liberal-minded woman," returned Lafelle 
 with emphasis. "I trust, as your spiritual adviser. Madam, I 
 may express the hope that you are in no way influenced by 
 her." 
 
 "Sir!" cried Carmen, who had bounded to her feet, her eyes 
 ablaze, "Madam Beaubien is a noble woman!" 
 
 "My dear child!" Lafelle grasped her hand and drew her 
 back into her chair. "You misunderstand me, quite. Madam 
 Beaubien is a very dear friend of ours, and we greatly admire 
 her strength of character. She certainly does not require your 
 defense! Dean! dear! you quite startled me." 
 
 A few moments later he rose and offered his arms to his 
 companions to lead them back to the hall. Delivering Carmen 
 into the charge of the eagerly waiting Duke of Altern, Lafelle 
 remarked, as he took leave, of Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, "I trust 
 you will permit me to talk with your beautiful ward to-morrow 
 afternoon — alone," And when the lady interpreted the signifi- 
 
 147 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 cance of his look, her Tieart beat rapidly, as she bowed her 
 acknowledgment of abject submission. 
 
 "Bah Jove!" ejaculated the young Duke, clutching Carmen. 
 "Ye know, I was deucedly afraid you had gone home, or that 
 Uncle Wilton had you. Ye know, I think I'm jealous of him!" 
 
 Carmen laughed merrily at the fellow. His grotesque cos- 
 tume made him appear still more ridiculous. 
 
 "It's nothing to laugh at, Miss Carmen! It's a bally bore to 
 have a regular mountain like him always getting in the way; 
 and to-night I just made up my mind I wouldn't stand it any 
 longer, bah Jove! I say, come on!" 
 
 He fixed his monocle savagely in his eye and strode rapidly 
 toward the refreshment hall. Carmen went in silence. She 
 heard his mUrmur of gratification when his gaze lighted upon 
 the chairs and table which he had evidently arranged previously 
 in anticipation of this tete-d-tete. 
 
 "Ye know," he finally began, after they were seated and he 
 had sat some minutes staring at the girl, "ye know, you're 
 deucedly clevah. Miss Carmen! I told mother so to-day, and" 
 this time she had to agree. And that about your being an Inca 
 princess — ye know, I could see that from the very first day I 
 met you. Mighty romantic, and all that, don't ye know!" 
 
 "Indeed, yes!" replied the girl, her thought drifting back to 
 distant Simiti. 
 
 "And all about that mine you own in South America — and 
 Mrs. Hawley-Crowles making you her heiress— tind all that — 
 bah Jove! It's — it's romantic, I tell you!" His head continued 
 to nod emphasis to his thought long after he finished speaking. 
 
 "Ye know," he finally resumed, drawing a gold-crested case 
 from a pocket and lighting a monogrammed cigarette, "a fellow 
 can always tell another who is — well, who belongs to the 
 aristocracy. Mrs. Ames, ye know, said she had some suspicions 
 about you. But I could see right off that it was because she 
 was jealous. Mother and I knew what you were the minute we 
 clapped eyes on you. That's because we belong to the nobility, 
 ye know." 
 
 He smoked in silence for some moments. Carmen was far, 
 far away. 
 
 "Bah Jove, Miss Carmen, I'm going to say it!" he suddenly 
 blurted. "Mother wanted me to marry Lord Cragmont's filly; 
 but, bah Jove, I say, I'm going to marry you!" 
 
 Carmen now heard, and she quickly sat up, her eyes wide 
 and staring. "Marry me!" she exclaimed. 
 
 •"Yes," he went on. "Oh, it's all right. You're a princess, 
 ye know, and so you're in our class. I'm not one of the kind 
 that hands out a title to the red-nosed daughter of any American 
 
 148 
 
C ARM-EN ARIZ A 
 
 pork packer just to get her money. Not me! The girl I 
 marry has got to b^ my equal." 
 
 "Oh!" murmured the astonished Carmen. 
 
 "It's all right for you to have money, of course. I won't 
 marry a pauper, even if she's a duchess. -But you and I, Miss 
 Carmen, are just suited to each other — wealth' and nobility on 
 each side. I've got thirty thousand good British acres in my 
 own right, bah Jove!" 
 
 By now Carmen had fully recovered from her surprise. She 
 reflected a moment, then determined to meet the absurd youth 
 with the spirit of levity which his audacity merited. "But, 
 Reginald," she said in mock seriousness, "though your father 
 was a duke, how about your mother? Was she not just an 
 ordinary American girl, a sister of plain Mrs. J. Wilton Ames? 
 Where's the aristocracy there? Now on riiy side — " 
 
 "Now, Miss Carmen," cried the boy petulantly, "can't you 
 see that, by marrying my father, my mother became ennobled? 
 Bah Jove, you don't understand! Were your parents both 
 noble?" 
 
 "Indeed they were!" said Carmen. "They were both chil- 
 dren of a king." 
 
 "You don't say!"- he whispered, leaning far over the table 
 toward her, "Then we've simply got to marry!" 
 
 "But," protested the girl, "in my country people love those 
 whom they marry. I haven't heard a word of that from you." 
 
 "Now, I say!" he exclaimed. "I was just getting round to 
 that. It was love that made me offer you my name and title!" 
 
 "Yes? Love of what?" 
 
 "Why — ^you — of course!" 
 
 She laughed musically. "My dear Reginald, you don't love 
 me. It is yourself that you love. You are madly in love, it is 
 true; but it is with the young Duke of Altern." 
 
 "See here, you can't talk to me that way, ye know!" he 
 flared out. "Bah Jove, I'm offering to make you a duchess — 
 and I love you, too, though you may not think it!" 
 
 "Of course you love me, Reginald," said Carmen in gentle 
 .reply, now relinquishing her spirit of badinage; "and I love 
 you. But I do not wish to marry you." 
 
 The young man started under the shock and stared at her 
 in utter lack of comprehension. Was it possible that this un- 
 known girl was refusing him, a duke? She must be mad! 
 
 "A — a — I don't get you. Miss Carmen," he stammered. 
 
 "Come," she said, rising and holding out a hand. "Let's 
 not talk about this any more. We must go back to the hall. I 
 do love you, Reginald, but not in the way that perhaps you 
 would like. I love the real you; not the vain, foolish, self- 
 
 149 
 
CARMEN -A-RIZA 
 
 adoring human- concept, called the Duke of'Altern. And the 
 love I feel for you will help you, oh, far niajre than if I married 
 you ! Come." 
 
 "But — Miss Carmen!" He stood before her with mouth 
 open. 
 
 "Yes, Reginald." 
 
 "I — I expected we'd be engaged — I told mother — " 
 
 "Very well, Reginald, we are engaged. Engaged in handling 
 this little problem that has presented itself to you. Do you 
 see? And I will help you to solve it in the right way. For you 
 need help. Reginald dear, I didn't mean to treat your proposal 
 so lightly. I am sorry. There, give me your hand. We're just 
 awfully good friends, aren't we? And 1 do love you, more than 
 you think." 
 
 Leaving the bewildered youth in the hall, Carmen fell afoul 
 of the very conservative Mrs. Gannette, whose husband, suffer- 
 ing from a sense of nausea since the appearance of Ames as a 
 King Vulture, had some moments Jief ore summoned his car and 
 driven to his favorite club to flood his apprehensions with Scotch 
 high-balls. 
 
 "Ah, little sly-boots!" piped Mrs. Gannette, shaking a finger 
 at Carmen. "1 saw you with Reginald just how. I'm awfully 
 wise about such things. Tell me, dear, when shall we be able 
 to call you the Duchess of Altern? You lucky girl!" 
 
 Carmen's spirits sank, as, without reply, she submitted to 
 the banal boredom of- this blustering dame's society gabble. 
 Mrs. Gannette hooked her arm into the girl's and led her to a 
 divan. "It's a great affair, isn't it?" she panted, settling her 
 round, unshapely form out over the seat. "Dear me! I did 
 intend to come in costume. Was coming as a tomato. Ha! ha! 
 Thought that was better adapted to my shape. But when 1 got 
 the cloth form around me, do you know, I couldn't get through 
 the door! And my unlovely pig of a husband said if I came 
 looking like that he'd get a divorce." The corpulent dame 
 shook and wheezed with the expression of her abundant mer- 
 riment. 
 
 "Well," she continued, "it wasn't his threat that hindered 
 me, goodness knows ! A divorce would be a relief, after living 
 forty years with him! Say, there goes young Doctor Worley. 
 Speaking of divorce, he's just got one. It all came round 
 through a joke. Billy Patterson dared him to exchange wives 
 with him one evening when they were having a little too much 
 gaiety at the Worley home, and the doctor took the dare. Ha ! 
 ha ! The men swapped wives for two days. What do you think 
 of that! And this divorce was the result. But Billy took his 
 wife back. He thought it was just a good joke. Kate Worley 
 
 150 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 gets an alimony of fifty thousand per. But the doctor can 
 stand it. Why, he has a practice of not less than two hundred 
 and fifty thousand a year!" 
 
 "I supposed," murmured Carmen, "that amount of money 
 is a measure of his abiUty, a proof of his great usefulness." 
 
 "Nothing of the kind." replied Mrs. Gannette. "He's simply 
 in with the wealthy, that's all. Dear! dear! Do look at that 
 fright over there! It's Lizzie Wall. Now isn't she simply 
 hideous ! Those diamonds are nothing but paste ! The hussy !" 
 
 Carmen glanced at the pale, slender woman across the 
 hall, seated alone, and wearing a look of utter weariness. 
 
 "I'd like to meet her," she said, suddenly drawn by the 
 woman's mute appeal for sympathy. 
 
 "Don't do it!" hastily interposed Mrs. Gannette. "She's 
 going to be dropped. Name's already on the black list. I don't 
 know what Mrs. Hawley-Crowles was thinking of to invite her 
 to-night ! Her estate is being handled by Ames and Company, 
 and J. Wilton says there won't be much left when it's settled — 
 
 "My goodness!" she exclaimed, abruptly flitting to another 
 topic. "There goes Miss Tottle. Look at her skirt — flounced 
 at the knees, and full in the back so's to give a bustle effect. 
 My! I wish I could wear togs cut that way — 
 
 "They say, my dear," the garrulous old worldling prattled 
 on, "that next season's styles will be very ultra. Butterfly idea, 
 I hear. Hats small and round, like the heads of butterflies. 
 Waists and jackets very full and quite loose in the back and 
 shoulders, so's to give the appearance of wings. Belts, but no 
 drawing in at the waist. Skirts plaited, plaits opening wide 
 at the knees and coming close together again at the ankle, so's 
 to look like the body of a butterfly. Then butterfly bows 
 sprinkled all over." 
 
 She paused for breath. Then she drew a long sigh. "Oh 
 dear," she lamented, "I'd give anything if I had a decent shape ! 
 I'd like to wear those shimmering, flowing, transparent summer 
 things over silk tights. But, mercy me! I'd look like a potato 
 busted wide open. Now you can wear those X-ray dresses all 
 right — 
 
 "Say, Kathleen Ames has a new French gown to wear to the 
 Dog Show. Skirt slit clear to the knee, with diamond garter 
 around the leg just below. How I'd look! I have a leg like a 
 ham!" 
 
 Carmen heard little of this vapid talk, as she sat studying 
 the pale woman across the hall. She had resolved to meet her 
 just as soon as the loquacious Mrs. Gannette should seek an- 
 other victim. But that genial old gossip gave no present evi- 
 dence of a desire to change. 
 
 151 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "rm so glad you're going to marry young Altern," she said, 
 again swerving the course of her conversation. "He's got a 
 fine old ruined castle somewhere in England, and seems to 
 have wads of money, though I hear that everything is mort- 
 gaged to Ames. I wouldn't be surprised. Still, his bare title 
 is worth something to an American girl. Besides, you've got 
 money. And you'll do a lot for his family. You know — ^but 
 don't breathe a word of this ! — his mother never was recognized 
 socially in England, and she finally had to give up the fight. 
 For a while Ames backed her, but it wouldn't do. His millions 
 couldn't buy her the court entrde, and she just had to quit. 
 That's why she's over here now. The old Duke — ^he was lots 
 older than she — died a couple of years ago. Ran through every- 
 thing and drank himsielf to death. Before and since that happy 
 event the Duchess did everything under the heavens to get a 
 bid to court. She gave millions to charity and to entertain- 
 ments. She sacrificed everything. But, no sir! It wouldn't 
 do. She had no royal blood. But with yoU it will be different. 
 You're a princess, royal Inca, and such like. You qualify right 
 from the jump. So you see what you're expected to do for the 
 Altern crowd — * 
 
 "Dear! dear!" catching her breath and switching quickly 
 to another theme, "have you heard about the Hairton scandal? 
 It's simply rich! You see, young Sidney Ames — " 
 
 Carmen's patience had touched its limit. "Don't, please 
 don't!" she begged, holding out a hand. "I do not wish to 
 hear it!" 
 
 Mrs. Gannette raised her lorgnette and looked at the girl. 
 "Why, my .dear! what's the matter? The scandal's about 
 Ames's spn, you know. The reason he doesn't go in society. 
 Just come to light. You see — " 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Gannette," Carmen looked up at her with a 
 beseeching smile. "You wouldn't deliberately give me poison 
 to drink, would you?" 
 
 "Why, certainly not!" blustered that garrulous lady in as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 "Then why do you poison my mind with such conversa- 
 tion?" 
 
 "What!" 
 
 "You sit there pouring into my mentality thought after 
 thought that is deadly poisonous, don't you know it?" 
 
 "Why—!" . ' •■ ;.; ^ 
 
 "You don't mean to harm me, I know," pleaded the girl. 
 "But if you only understood mental laws you would know that 
 every thought entering one's mind tends to become manifested 
 in some way. Thoughts of disease, disaster, death, scandal — 
 
 152 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 all tend to become externalized in discordant ways, either on 
 the body, or in the environment. You don't want any such 
 things manifested to me, do you? But you might just as well 
 hand me poison to drink as to sit there and pour such deadly 
 conversation into me." 
 
 Mrs. Gannette slowly drew herself up with the hauteur of 
 a grandee. Carmen seized her hand. "I do not want to listen 
 to these unreal things which concern only the human mind," 
 she said earnestly. "Nor should you, if you are truly aristo- 
 cratic, for aristocracy is of the thought. I am not going to 
 marry Reginald. A human title means nOtMng to me. But 
 one's thought — that alone is one's claim to real aristocracy. I 
 know I have offended you, but only because I refuse to let you 
 poison me. Now I will go." 
 
 She left the divan and the petrified dame, and hurriedly 
 mingled with the crowd on the floor. 
 
 "The little cat!" exploded Mrs. Gannette, when she again 
 found herself. "She has mortally insulted me!" 
 
 Carmen went directly to the pale woman, still sitting alone, 
 who had been one of the objects of Mrs. Gannette's slighting 
 remarks. ,Thp woman glanced up as she saw the girl ap- 
 proaching, and a look of wonder came into her eyes. Carmen 
 held out a hand. 
 
 "I am Carmen Ariza," she said simply. "You are Miss Wall. 
 I want you to be my friend." 
 
 The woman roused up and tried to appear composed. 
 
 "Will you ride with me to-morrow?" continued Carmen. 
 "Then we can talk all we want to, with nobody to overhear. 
 Aren't you happy?" she abruptly added, unable longer to with- 
 stand the appeal which issued mutely from the lusterless eyes 
 before her. 
 
 The woman, smiled wanly. "Not so very," she replied 
 slowly. 
 
 "Well!" exclaimed Carmen; "what's wrong?" 
 
 "I am poverty-stricken," returned the woman sadly. 
 
 "But I will give you money," Carmen quickly replied. 
 
 "My dear child," said the woman, "I haven't anything but 
 money. That is why I am poverty-stricken." 
 
 "Oh!" the girl exclaimed, sinking into a chair at her side. 
 "Well," she added, brightening, "now you have me ! And wUl 
 you call me up, first thing- in the morning, and arrange to ride 
 with me? I want you to, so much!" 
 
 The woman's eyes grew moist. "Yes," she murmured, "I 
 will— gladly." 
 
 In the small hours of the morning there were several heads 
 tossing in stubborn wakefulness on their pillows in various 
 New York mansions. But Carmen's was not one of them. 
 
 153 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 17 
 
 ON the morning following Mrs. Hawley-Crowles's very suc- 
 cessful imitation of the Bal de V Opera, Monsignor Lafelle 
 paid an early call to the Ames sanctum. And the latter 
 gentleman deemed the visit of sufficient importance to devote 
 a full hour to his caller. When the churchman rose to take 
 his leave he reiterated: 
 
 "Our friend Wenceslas will undertake the matter for you, 
 Mr. Ames, but on the conditions which I have named. But 
 Rome must be communicated with, and the substance of her 
 replies must be sent from Cartagena to you, and your letters 
 forwarded to her. That might take us into early summer. But 
 there is no likelihood that Mr. Ketchim's engineers will make 
 any further attempt before • that time to enter Colombia. Mr. 
 Reed in still in California. Mr. Harris is in Denver, at his old 
 home, you tell me. So we need look for no immediate move 
 from them," 
 
 "Quite satisfactory, Lafelle," returned Ames genially. "In 
 future, if I can be of service to you, I am yours to command. 
 Mr. Willett will hand you a check covering your traveling ex- 
 penses on my behalf." 
 
 When the door closed after Lafelle, Ames leaned back in 
 his chair and gave himself up to a moment's reflection. "I 
 wonder," he mused, "I wonder if the fellow has something up 
 his sleeve that he didn't show me? He acted suspiciously. 
 Perhaps he's getting a bit dangerous. He may know too much 
 already. I'm going to drop him after this trap is sprung. He's 
 got Jim Crowles's widow all tied up, too. I wonder if he — by 
 heaven! if he begins work on that girl I'U^" 
 
 He was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone bell. 
 It was Gannette. "What?" shouted Ames, "you say. the girl 
 insulted your wife last evening? I don't believe she could — 
 Yes, yes, I mean, I dont think she meant to — certainly not, 
 no aspersion whatever intended — ^What? the girl will have to 
 apologize? — ^Well! well — No, not in a thousand years! — ^Yes, 
 I'll back her! And if your society isn't good enough for her 
 — and I don't think it is — ^why, I'll form a little coterie all by 
 myself!" 
 
 He hung up the receiver with a slam. Then he angrily sum- 
 moned Hodson. "I want a dozen brokers watching Gannette 
 now until I call them off," he commanded. "I want you to 
 take personal charge of them. Dog his every move. I'll give 
 you some suggestions later." 
 
 154 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Hodson bowed and went out. Ames continued his medita- 
 tions. "Lucile already has Gannette pretty well wound up in 
 his Venezuelan speculations^and they are going to smash — 
 Lafelle has fixed that. And I've bought her notes against Mrs. 
 Hawley-Crowles for about a million — ^which I have reinvested 
 for her in Colombia. Humph! She'll feed out of my hand 
 now! La Libertad is mine when the trap falls. So is C. and R. 
 And that little upstart, Ketchim, goes to Sing Sing!" 
 
 He turned to the morning paper that lay upon his desk. 
 "I don't like the way the Colombian revolution drags," he 
 mused. "But certainly it can't last much longer. And then — 
 then—" 
 
 His thoughts wandered off into devious channels. "So 
 Jose de Rincon is — well! well! Things -have taken an odd 
 turn. But — where on earth did that girl come from? Lord! 
 she was beautiful last night. All religion, eh? Ha! ha! Well, 
 she's young. There's a lot of experience coming to her. And 
 then she'll drop a few of her pious notions. Lucile says — 
 but Lucile is getting on my nerves!" 
 
 »♦♦»♦♦ 
 
 MonsignoT Lafelle ' found Mrs. Hawley-Crowles and her 
 ward awaiting him when his car drove up at two that after- 
 noon. Carmen had not left the house during the morning, for 
 Elizabeth Wall had telephoned early that a slight indisposition 
 would necessitate postponement of the contemplated ride. 
 
 "Well," reflected Carmen, as she turned from the 'phone, 
 "one who knows that God is everywhere can never be disap- 
 pointed, for all good is ever present." And then she set about 
 preparing for the expected call of Monsignor Lafelle. 
 
 ■When that dignitary entered the parlor Mrs. Hawley- 
 Crowles graciously welcomed him, and then excused herself. 
 "I will leave her with you, Monsignor," she said, indicating 
 Carmen, and secretly glad to escape a presence which she 
 greatly feared. Lafelle bowed, and then waved Carmen to a 
 seat. 
 
 "I have come to-day. Miss Carmen," he began easily, "on 
 a mission of vastest importance as concerning your welfare. I 
 have been in Cartagena. I have talked with the acting-Bishop 
 there, who, it seems, is not wholly unacquainted with you." 
 
 "Then," cried Carmen eagerly, "you know where Padre 
 Jose is? And the others — " 
 
 "No," replied Lafelle. "I regret to say I know nothing of 
 their present whereabouts. Leave them with God." 
 
 "I have long since done that," said Carmen softly. 
 
 "It is of yourself that I wish to speak," continued Lafelle. 
 "I have come to .offer you the consolatton, the joy, and the pro- 
 
 155 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 tection of the Church. Your great benefactress, Mrs. Hawley- 
 Crowles, has found peace with us. Will you longer delay tak- 
 ing a step toward which you are by race, by national custom, 
 and by your Saviour admonished? I have come to invite you 
 to publicly confess your allegiance to the Church of Rome. 
 You "belong to us. A Catholic country gave you birth. Your 
 parents were Catholic. Your best friend, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, 
 is one of us. Come," he said, extending his hands. "We need 
 you. And you, my daughter, now need the Church," he added 
 with suggestive emphasis. 
 
 Carmen was not surprised. Mrs. Hawley-Crowles had 
 hinted the probable mission of the churchman, and the girl 
 was prepared. 
 
 "I thank you, Monsignor," she replied simply. "But it is 
 impossible." 
 
 "Impossible?" He arched his fine brows. "My child, it is 
 quite necessary!" 
 
 "Why, Monsignor?" 
 
 "For your eternal salvation," he replied. 
 
 "But I have my salvation, ever present. It is the Christ- 
 principle." 
 
 "My dear child, do not lean upon your pretty theories in 
 the hope that they will open the door of heaven for you. 
 There is no salvation outside of the Church." 
 
 "Monsignor," said Carmen gently, "such talk is very foolish. 
 Can you prove to me that your Church ever sent any one to 
 heaven? Have you any but a very mediaeval and material 
 concept of heaven? To me, heaven is right here. It is the 
 consciousness of good only, without a trace of materiality or 
 evil. And I enter into that consciousness by means of the 
 Christ-principle, which Jesus gave to the world. It is very 
 simple, is it not? And it makes all your pomp and ceremony, 
 and your penance and rites quite unnecessary." 
 
 Lafelle eyed her narrowly. He had certain suspicions, but 
 he was not ready to voice them. Carmen went on : 
 
 "Monsignor, I love my fellow-men, oh, so much! I Want 
 to see every one work out his salvation, as Jesus bade us all 
 do, and without any hindrance from others. And I ask but that 
 same privilege from every one, yourself included. Let me 
 work out my salvation as my Father has directed." 
 
 Lafelle smiled paternally. "I have no wish to hinder you, 
 child. On the contrary, I offer you the assistance and infallible 
 guidance of the Church. You are very young. We are very 
 old. Beginning nineteen centuries ago, when we were divinely 
 appointed custodian of the "world's morals, our history has 
 been a glorious one. We have in that time changed a pagan 
 world into one that fears God and follows His Christ." 
 
 156 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "But for nineteen hundred years, Monsignor, the various 
 so-called Christian sedts of the world have been persecuting 
 and slaying one another over their foolish beliefs, basing their 
 religious theories upon their interpretations of the Bible. Sure- 
 ly that is not a glorious history!" 
 
 "Ah! You unwittingly argue directly for our cause, my 
 child. The result which you have just cited proves conclu- 
 sively that the Scriptures can not be correctly interpreted by 
 every one. That is perfectly patent to you, I see. Thus you 
 acknowledge the necessity of an infallible guide. That is to be 
 found only in the spiritual Fathers, and in the Pope, the holy 
 Head of the Church of Rome, the present Vicegerent of Christ 
 on earth." 
 
 "Then your interpretation of the Bible is the only correct 
 one?" 
 
 "Absolutely!" 
 
 "And you Catholics are the only true followers of Christ? 
 The only real Christians?" 
 
 "We are." 
 
 She rose. "Come^ Monsignor, I will get my coat and hat. 
 We will take your car." 
 
 "Why^-where are you going?" he asked in amazement, as 
 he slowly got to his feet. 
 
 She stopped and faced him squarely. "Jesus said : 'He that 
 believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also.' I am 
 going to take you over to the home of old Maggie, our cook's 
 mother. She is sick. You will heal her, for you are a true 
 follower of Christ." 
 
 "Well— but, hasn't she a doctor?" 
 
 "Yes, but he^ can't help her. Doctors are not infallible. 
 But you represent the Christ on earth. You should be able to 
 do the works which he did. You can change the wafer and 
 wine into the flesh and blood of Jesus. How much easier, 
 then, and vastly niore practical, to cure a sick woman! Wait, 
 I will be back in a minute." 
 
 "But, you impetuous child, I shall go on no such foolish 
 errand as that!" 
 
 She stopped again. "If the woman were dying or dead, and 
 you were summoned, you would go, would you not? For she is 
 a Catholic." 
 
 "Why — ^yes, of course." 
 
 "And if she were dying you would put holy oil on her, and 
 pray — ^but it wouldn't make her well. And if she were dead, 
 you would say Masses for the repose of her soul. Monsignor, 
 did it never occur to you that the great works which you claim 
 to do are all done behind the veil of death? You can do but 
 
 a 157 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 liitle for mankind here; but you pretend to do much after 
 they have passed beyond the grave. Is it quite fair to the poor 
 and ignorant, I ask, to work that way? Did it never strike 
 you as remarkable and very consistent that Jesus, whenever he 
 launched a great truth, immediately ratified it by some great 
 sign, some sign which the world now calls a miracle? The 
 Gospels are full of such instances, where he first taught, then 
 came down and immediately healed some one, thus at once 
 putting his teaching to the proof. Do you prove anything? 
 Your Church has taught and thundered and denounced for 
 ages, but what has it proved? Jesus taught practical Chris- 
 tianity. You teach the so-called practical Christianity which 
 makes a reality of evil and an eternal necessity of hospitals 
 and orphan asylums. If you did his works the people would 
 be so uplifted that these things would be wiped out. Your 
 Church has had nineteen hundred years in which to learn to 
 do the works which he did. Now come over to Maggie's with 
 me and prove that you are a true follower and believer, and 
 that the Church has given you the right sort of practical in- 
 struction!" 
 
 Gradually the girl's voice waxed stronger while she delivered 
 • this polemic. Slowly the churchman's face darkened, as he 
 moved backward and sank into his chair. 
 
 "Now, Monsignor, having scolded you well," the girl con- 
 tinued, smiling as she sat down again, "I will apologize. But 
 you needed the scolding — ^you know you did! And nearly all 
 who profess the name of Christ need the same. Monsignor, I 
 love you all, and every one, whether Catholic or Protestant, or 
 whatever his creed. But that does not blind my eyes to your 
 great need, and to your obstinate refusal to make any effort 
 to meet that need." 
 
 A cynical look came into the man's face. "May I ask. Miss 
 Carmen, if you consider yourself a true follower and believer?" 
 he said coolly. 
 
 "Monsignor," she quickly replied, rising and facing him, 
 "you hope by that adroit question to confound me. You mean, 
 do I heal the sick? Listen: when I was a child my purity of 
 thought was such that I knew no evil. I could not see it any- 
 whM"e. I could not see sickness or death as anything more 
 than unreal shadows. And that wonderful clearness of vision 
 and purity of thought made me a channel for the operation of 
 the Christ-principle, God himself. And thereby the sick were 
 healed in my little home town. Then, little by little, after my 
 beloved teacher, Jose, came to me, I lost ground in my struggle 
 to keep the vision clear. They did not mean to, but he and my 
 dearest padre Rosendo and others held their beliefs of evil as 
 
 158 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 a reality so constantly before me that the vision became ob- 
 scured, and the spirituality alloyed. The unreal forces of evil 
 seemed to concentrate upon me. I know why now, for the 
 greatest good always stirs up the greatest amount of evil — the 
 highest truth always has the lowest lie as its opposite and 
 opponent. I see now, as never before, the unreality of evil. I 
 see now, as never before, the marvelous truth which Jesus 
 tried, oh, so hard, to impress upon the dull minds of his peo- 
 ple, the truth which you refuse to see. And ceaselessly I am 
 now striving to acquire 'that mind,' that spiritual conscious- 
 ness, which was in him. My vision is becoming daily clearer. 
 I have been wonderfully shielded, led, and cared for. And 
 I shall heal, some day, as he did. I shall regain my former 
 spirituality, for it has never really been lost. But, Monsignor, 
 do not ask me to come into your Church and allow my bright- 
 ening vision to become blurred by your very inadequate con- 
 cept of God — a God who is moved Jby the petitions of Saints 
 and Virgin and mortal men. No! no! Unless," she added, 
 brightening, "you will let me teach your Church what I know. 
 Will you agree to that?" 
 
 Lafelle did not answer. Then Carmen shook her head. 
 "You see," she said, "your Church requires absolute submis- 
 sion to its age-worn authority. According to you, I have noth- 
 ing to give. Very well, if your Church can receive nothing from 
 me, and yet can give me nothing more than its impossible be- 
 liefs, undemonstrable this side of the grave, at least — then we 
 must consider that a gulf is fixed between us. 
 
 "Oh, Monsignor," she pleaded, after a moment's silence, 
 "you see, do you not? When Jesus said that he gave his dis- 
 ciples power over all evil, did he not mean likewise over all 
 physical action, and over every physical condition? But did he 
 mean that they alone should have such power? What a limit- 
 ing of infinite Love I No, he meant that every one who followed 
 him and strove ceaselessly for spirituality of thought should 
 acquire that spirituality, and thereby cleanse himself of false 
 beliefs, and make room for the Christ-principle to operate, even 
 to the healing of the sick, to the raising of those mesmerized 
 by the belief of death as a power and reality, and to the de- 
 materializing of the whole material concept of the heavens and 
 earth. Can't you, a churchman, see it? And can't you see 
 how shallow your views are? Don't you know that even the 
 physical body is but a part of the human, material concept, 
 and therefore a part of the 'one lie' about God, who is Spirit?" 
 
 Lafelle had listened patiently. But now his time had come 
 to speak in rebuttal. And yet, he would make no attempt to 
 assail her convictions. He knew well that she would not 
 yiejd — at least, to-day. He therefore played another card. 
 
 159 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Miss Carmen," he said gently, "the Church is ever doing 
 beneficent deeds which do not come to light, and for which 
 she receives no praise from men. Your own and Mrs. Hawley- 
 Crowles's elevation to social leadership came through her. 
 There is also a rumor that the Church afforded you an asylum 
 on your first night in this city, when, if ever, you needed aid. 
 The Church shielded and cared' for you even in Simiti. In- 
 deed, what has she not done for you? And do you now, alas! 
 turn and rend her?" 
 
 "Monsignor," replied Carmen, "I am not unmindful of the 
 care always bestowed upon me. And I am not ungrateful. But 
 my gratitude is to my God, who has worked through many 
 channels to bless me. My account is with Him. Leave it 
 there, and fear not that I shall prove ungrateful to Him, to 
 whom my every thought is consecrated." 
 
 Lafelle bit his lip. Then he spoke low and earnestly, while 
 he held his gaze fixed upon the girl's bright eyes. "Miss Car- 
 men, if you knew that the Church now afforded you the only 
 refuge from the dangers that threaten, you would turn to her 
 as a frightened child to its mother." 
 
 "I fear nothing, Monsignor," replied the girl, her face alight 
 with a smile of complete confidence. "I am not the kind who 
 may be driven by fear into acceptance of undemonstrable, un- 
 founded theological beliefs. Fear has always been a terrible 
 weapon in the hands of those who have, sought to force their 
 opinions upon their fellow-men. But it is powerless to in- 
 fluence me. Fear, Monsignor, is sin. It causes men to miss the 
 mark. And it is time-honored. Indeed, according to the Bible 
 allegory, it began in the very garden of Eden, when poor, 
 deceived Adam confessed to God that he was afraid. If God 
 was infinite then, as you admit you believe Him to be nolv, 
 who or what made Adam afraid? Whence came the imaginary 
 power of fear? For, 'God hath not given us the spirit of fear; 
 but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.' God is love. 
 !And there is no fear in love." 
 
 "But, surely. Miss Carmen, you will not stubbornly close 
 your eyes to threatening evil?" 
 
 "Monsignor, I close my eyes to all that is unlike God. He 
 is everything to me. f know nothing but Him and His perfect 
 manifestation." 
 
 Lafelle sat some moments in silence. The picture which 
 he and the young girl formed was one of rare beauty and in- 
 terest: he, weighted with years, white of hair, but rugged of 
 form, with strikingly handsome features and kindly eyes — she, 
 a child, delicate, almost wraith-like, glowing with a beauty 
 that was not of earth, and, though untutored in the wiles of 
 
 160 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 men, still holding at bay the sagacious representative of a 
 crushing weight of authority which reached far back through 
 the centuries, even to the Greek and Latin Fathers who put 
 their still unbroken seal upon the strange elaborations which 
 they wove out of the simple words of the Nazarene, 
 
 When the churchman again looked up and felt himself 
 engulfed in the boundless love which emanated from that ra- 
 diant, smiling girl, there surged up within him a mighty im- 
 pulse to go to her, to clasp her in his arms, to fall at her feet 
 and pray for even a mite of her own rare spirituality. The 
 purpose which he had that morning formulated died within 
 him; the final card which he would have thrown lay crushed 
 in his hand. He rose and came and stood before her. 
 
 "The people believe you a child of the ancient Incas," he 
 said slowly, taking her hand. "What if I should say that I 
 know better?" 
 
 "I would say that you were right, Monsignor," she replied 
 gently, looking up into his face with a sweet smile. 
 
 "Then you admit the identity of your father?" 
 
 "Yes, Monsignor." 
 
 "Ah! And that is—?" 
 
 "God." 
 
 The man bent for a moment over the little white hand, and 
 then immediately left the house. 
 
 CHAPTER 18 
 
 MONSIGNOR LAFELLE in his interview with Carmen 
 had thrown out a hint of certain rumors regarding 
 her; but the days passed, and the girl awoke not to 
 their significance. Then, one morning, her attention was 
 attracted by a newspaper report of the farewell address of 
 a young priest about to leave his flock. When she opened the 
 paper and caught sight of the news item she gave a little cry, 
 and immediately forgot all else in her absorption in the closing 
 words : 
 
 " — and I have known no other ambition since the day that little waif 
 from a distant land strayed into my life, lighting the dead lamp of my 
 faith with the torch of her own flaming spirituality. She said she had 
 a message for the people up here. Would to God she might know that 
 her message had borne fruit!" 
 
 The newspaper slipped from the girl's hands to the floor. 
 Her eyes, big and shining, stared straight before her. "And 
 I will lead the blind by a way that they know not — " she 
 murmured. 
 
 161 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The telephone rang. It was Miss Wall, ready now for the 
 postponed ride. Carmen clapped her hands and sang for joy 
 as she summoned the car and made her preparations. "We'll 
 go over to his church," she said aloud. "We'll find him!" 
 She hurried back to the newspaper to get the address of the 
 church from which he had spoken the preceding day. "They 
 will know where he is," she said happily. "Oh, isn't it just 
 wonderful!" 
 
 A few minutes later, with Miss Wall at her side, she was 
 speeding to the distant suburb where the little church' was 
 located. 
 
 "We are going to find a priest," she said simply. "Oh, you 
 mustn't ask me any questions! Mrs. Hawley-Crowles doesn't 
 like to have me talk about certain things, and so I can't tell 
 you." 
 
 Miss Wall glanced at her in wonder. But the happy, smil- 
 ing countenance disarmed suspicion. 
 
 "Now tell me," Carmen went on, "tell me about yourself. 
 I'm a missionary, you know," she added, thinking of Father 
 Waite. 
 
 "A missionary I Well, are you trying to convert the society 
 world?" 
 
 "Yes, by Christianity — not by what the missionaries are now 
 teaching in the name of Christianity. I'll tell you all about 
 it some day. Now tell me, why are you unhappy? Why is 
 your life pitched in such a minor key? Perhaps, together, we 
 can change it to a major." 
 
 Miss Wall could not help joining in the merry laugh. Then 
 her face grew serious. "I am unhappy," she said, "because I 
 have arrived nowhere." 
 
 Carmen looked at her inquiringly. "Well," she said, "that 
 shows you are on the wrong track, doesn't it?" 
 
 "I'm tired of life — tired of everything, everybody!" Miss 
 Wall sank back into the cushions with her lips pursed and her 
 brow wrinkled. 
 
 "No, you are not tired of life," said Carmen quietly; "for 
 you do not know what life is." 
 
 "No, I suppose not," replied the weary woman. "Do you?" 
 she asked abruptly. 
 
 "Yes, it is God." 
 
 "Oh, don't mention that name, nor quote Scripture to me!" 
 cried the woman, throwing up her hands in exasperation. ;^ 
 "I've had that stuff preached at me until it turned my stomach ! 
 I hope you are not an emotional, weepy religionist. Let's not 
 talk about that subject. I'm heartily sick of it!" 
 
 "All right," replied Carmen cheerily. "Padre Jose used to 
 say—" 
 
 162 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Who's he?" demanded Miss Wall, somewhat curtly. 
 
 "Oh, he is a priest — " 
 
 "A priest! Dear me! do you constantly associate with 
 priests, and talk religion?" 
 
 The young girl laughed. "Well," she responded, "I've had 
 a good deal to do with both." 
 
 "And are you any better for it?" 
 
 "Oh, yes — lots!" she said quickly. 
 
 The woman regarded her with curiosity. "Tell me some- 
 thing about your life," she s^id. "They say you are a prin- 
 cess." 
 
 "Surely I am a princess," returned Carmen, laughing mer- 
 rily. "Listen; I will tell you about big, glorious Simiti, and 
 the wonderful castle I lived in there, and about my Prime 
 Minister, Don Rosendo, and — ^well, listen, and then judge for 
 yourself if I am not of royal, extraction!" 
 
 Laughing again up into the mystified face of Miss Wall, the 
 enthusiastic girl began to tell about her former life in far-off 
 .Guamoc6. 
 
 As she listened, the woman's eyes grew wide with interest. 
 At times she voiced her astonishment in sudden exclamations. 
 And when the girl concluded her brief recital, she bent upon 
 the sparkling face a look of mingled wonder and admiration. 
 "Goodness! After going through all that, how can you be so 
 happy now? And with all your kin down there in that awful 
 war! Why—!" 
 
 "Don't you think I am a princess now?"- Carmen asked, 
 smiling up at her. 
 
 "I think you are a marvel!" was the emphatic answer. 
 
 "And — ^you don't want to know what it was that kept me 
 through it all, and that is still guiding me?" The bright, 
 animated face looked so eagerly, so lovingly, into the world- 
 scarred features of her companion. 
 
 "Not if you are going to talk religion. Tell me, who is this 
 priest you are seeking to-day, and why have you come to see 
 him?" 
 
 "Father Waite. He is the one who found me — ^when I got 
 lost — and took me to my friends." 
 
 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 
 
 163 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 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 
 ofHce. 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 aston- 
 ishment. He colored violently; Miss Wall sat with mouth 
 agape. 
 
 "Aren't you glad to see me?" pursued the girl, again grasp- 
 ing 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, art- 
 less girl. "And I'm an Inca princess. And I'm just plain Car- 
 men 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 con- 
 cluded 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." 
 
 "Impossible," he replied, shaking his head. 
 
 "Then, will .you come and see me?" She thought for a 
 moment. "Why have you never been to see me? Didn't you 
 know I was still in the city?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," he replied. "I used to see your name in the 
 papers, often. And I have followed your career with great 
 interest. But — you moved in a circle — from which I — well, it 
 was hardly possible for me to come to see you, you know — " 
 
 "It was!" exclaimed the girl. "But, never mind, you are 
 coming now. Here," drawing a card from her bag, "this is 
 the address of Madam Beaubien. Will you come there to- 
 morrow afternoon, at two, and talk with me?" 
 
 He looked at the card which she thrust into his hand, and 
 then at the richly-gowned girl before him. He seemed to be 
 in a dream. But he nodded his head slowly. 
 
 "Tell me," she whispered, "how is Sister Katie?" 
 
 Ah, if the girl could have known how that great-hearted 
 old soul had mourned her "little bairn" these many months. 
 
 "I will go to see her," said Carmen. "But first you will 
 come to me to-morrow." She beamed upon him as she clasped 
 his hands again. Then she entered the car, and sat waving her 
 hand back at him as long as he could see her. 
 
 164 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 It would be difficult to say which of the two, Miss Wall or 
 Father Waite, was the more startled by this abrupt and lively 
 rencontre. But to Carmen, as she sat back in the car absorbed 
 in thought, it had been a perfectly natural meeting between 
 two warm friends. Suddenly the girl turned to the woman. 
 "You haven't anything but money, and fine clothes, and auto- 
 mobiles, and jewels, you think. And you want something 
 better. Do you know? I know what it is you want." 
 
 "What is it?" asked the wondering woman, marveling at 
 this strange girl who went about embracing people so pro- 
 miscuously. 
 
 "Love." 
 
 The woman's lip trembled slightly when she heard this, 
 but she did not reply. 
 
 "And I'm going to love you," the girl continued. "Oh, so 
 much! You're tired of society gabble and gossip; you're tired 
 of spending on yourself the money you never earned; you're 
 not a bit of use to anybody, are you? But you want to be. 
 You're a sort of tragedy, aren't you? Oh, I know. There are 
 just lots of them in high society, just as weary as you. They 
 haven't anything but money. And they lack the very greatest 
 thing in all of life, the very thing that no amount of money 
 will buy, just love! But, do you know? they don't realize 
 that, in order to get, they must give. In order to be loved, they 
 must themselves love. Now you start right in and love the 
 whole world, love everybody, big and little. And, as you love 
 people, try to see only their perfection. Never look at a bad 
 trait, nor a blemish of any sort. Try it. In a week's time you 
 will be a new woman." 
 
 "Do you do that?" the woman asked in a low tone. 
 
 "I have always done it," replied Carmen. "I don't know 
 anything but love. I never knew what it was to hate or revile. 
 I never could see what there was that deserved hatred or loath- 
 ing. I don't see anything but good — everywhere." 
 
 The woman slipped an arm about the girl. "I — I don't 
 mind your talking that way to me," she whispered. "But I 
 just couldn't bear to listen to any more religion." 
 
 "Why!" exclaimed Carmen. "That's all there is to religion! 
 Love is the tie that binds all together and all to God. Why, 
 Miss Wall—" 
 
 "Call me Elizabeth, please," interrupted the woman. 
 
 "Well then, Elizabeth," she said softly, "all creeds have got 
 to merge into just one, some day, and, instead of saying 'I 
 believe,' everybody will say 'I understand and I love.' Why* 
 the very person who loved more than anybody else ever did 
 was the one who saw God most clearly! He knew that if we 
 
 165 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 •would see God — good everywhere — -we would just simply have 
 to love, for God is love! Don't you see? It is so simple!" 
 
 "Do you love me, Carmen, because you pity me?" 
 
 "No, indeed!" .was the emphatic answer. "God's children 
 are not to be pitied — and I see in people only His children." 
 
 "Well, why, then, do you love me?" 
 
 The girl replied quickly : "God is love. I am His reflection. 
 I reflect Him to you. That's loving you, 
 
 "And now," she continued cheerily, "we are going to work 
 together, aren't we? You are first going to love everybody. 
 And then you are going to see just what is right for you to 
 do — what work you are to take up — ^what interests you are to 
 have. But love comes first." 
 
 "Tell me. Carmen, why are you in society? What keeps 
 you there, in an atmosphere so unsuited to your spiritual 
 life?" 
 
 "God." 
 
 "Oh, yes," impatiently. "But—" 
 
 "Well, Elizabeth dear, every step I take is ordained by Him, 
 who is my life. I am where He places me. I leave everything 
 to Him, and then keep myself out of the way. If He wishes to 
 use me elsewhere. He will remove me from society. But I wait 
 for Him." 
 
 The woman looked at her and marveled. How could this 
 girl, who, in her few brief year-s, had passed through fire and 
 flood, still love the hand that guided her! 
 
 CHAPTER 19 
 
 TO the great horde of starving European nobility the 
 daughters of American millionaires have dropped as 
 heavenly manna. It was but dire necessity that forced 
 low the bars of social caste to the transoceanic traffic between 
 fortune and title. 
 
 That Mrs. Hawley-Crowles might ever aspire to the purchase 
 of a decrepit dukedom had never entered her thought. A tot- 
 tering earldom was likewise beyond her purchasing power. 
 She had contented herself that Carmen should some day barter 
 her rare culture, her charm, and her unrivaled beauty, for the 
 more lowly title of an impecunious count or baron. But to 
 what heights of ecstasy did her little soul rise when the young 
 Duke of Altern made it known to her that he would honor her 
 beautiful ward with his own glorious name — ^in exchange for 
 La Libertad and other good and valuable considerations, re- 
 ceipt of which would be duly acknowledged. 
 
 166 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "I — aw— have spoken to her, ye know, Mrs. Hawley- 
 Crowles," that worthy young cad announced one afternoon, as 
 he sat alone with the successful society leader in the warm 
 glow of her living room. "And — ^bah Jove! she said we were 
 engaged, ye know — really ! Said we were awfully good friends, 
 ye know, and all that. 'Pon my word ! she said she loved me." 
 For Reginald had done much thinking of late — and his cred- 
 itors were restless. 
 
 "Why, you don't mean it!" cried the overpowered Mrs. 
 Hawley-Crowles, beaming like a full-blown sunflower. 
 
 "But I do, really! Only — ^ye know, she'll have to be — 
 coached a bit, ye know — told who we are — our ancestral his- 
 tory, and all that. You know what I mean, eh?" 
 
 "Of course — ^you dear boy! Why, she just couldn't help lov- 
 ing you!" 
 
 "No — aw — no, of course — that is — aw — she has excellent 
 prospects — financial, I mean, eh? Mines, and all that, ye 
 know — eh?" 
 
 "Why, she owns the grandest gold mine in all South 
 America! Think of it!" 
 
 "Bah Jove! I — aw — I never was so attracted to a girl in 
 all me blooming life! You will — a — speak to her, eh? Help 
 me out, ye know. Just a few words, eh? You know what I 
 mean?" 
 
 "Never fear, Reginald, she's yours. There will be no oppo- 
 sition." . 
 
 "Opposition! Certainly not — not when she knows about 
 our family- And — aw — mother will talk with you — that is, 
 about the details. She'll arrange them, ye know. I never was 
 good at business." 
 
 And the haughty mother of the young Duke did call shortly 
 thereafter to consult in regard to her son's matrimonial de- 
 sires. The nerve-racking round of balls, receptions, and other 
 society functions was quite forgotten by the elated Mrs. Haw- 
 ley-Crowles, whose ears tingled deliciously under the pompous 
 boastings of the Dowager Lady Altern. The house of Altern? 
 Why, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles was convinced, after a half hour's 
 conversation with this proud mother, that the royal house of 
 Brunswick was but an impudent counterfeit! What was La 
 Libertad worth? She knew not. But her sister's brother, 
 Mr. Reed, who had hastily appraised it, had said that there 
 was a mountain of gold there, only awaiting Yankee enter- 
 prise. And Carmen? There was proof positive that she was 
 an Inca princess. Yes, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles was so honored 
 by the deep interest which the young Duke manifested in the 
 wonderful girl! And she would undertake negotiations with 
 
 167 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 her at once. But it must be done wisely. Carmen was not 
 like ether girls. No, indeed! 
 
 And now Mrs. Hawley-Crowles had to plan very carefully. 
 She was terribly in debt; yet she had resources. The Beau- 
 bien was inexhaustible. Ames, too, might be depended upon. 
 And La Libertad — well, there was Mr. Philip O. Ketchim to 
 reckon with. So she forthwith summoned him to a consulta- 
 tion. 
 
 But, ere her talk with that prince of finance, another bit 
 of good fortune fell into the lady's spacious lap. Reed had 
 written that he was doing poorly with his western mining 
 ventures, and would have to raise money at once. He there- 
 fore offered to sell his interest in the Simiti Company. More- 
 over, he wanted his wife to come to him and make her home 
 in California, where he doubtless would spend some years. 
 Mrs. Hawley-Crowles offered him twenty-five thousand dollars 
 for his Simiti interest; of which offer Reed wired his immediate 
 acceptance. Then the lady packed her rueful sister Westward 
 Ho! and laid her newly acquired stock before the Beaubien for 
 a large loan. That was but a day before Ketchim called. 
 
 "Madam," said that suave gentleman, smiling piously, "you 
 are a genius. Our ability to announce the Duke of Altern as 
 our largest stockholder will result in a boom in the sales of 
 Simiti stock. The Lord has greatly prospered our humble en- 
 deavors. Er — might I ask. Madam, if you would condescend to 
 meet my wife some afternoon? We are rapidly acquiring some 
 standing in a financial way, and Mrs. Ketchim would like to 
 know you and some of the more desirable members of your 
 set, if it might be arranged." 
 
 Mrs. Hawley-Crowles beamed her joy. She drew herself 
 up with a regnant air. The people were coming to her, their 
 social queen, for recognition! 
 
 . "And there's my Uncle Ted, you know. Madam. He's presi- 
 dent of the C. and R." 
 
 Mrs. Hawley-Crowles nodded and looked wise. "Possibly 
 we can arrange it," she said. "But now about our other invest- 
 ments. What is Joplin Zinc doing?" 
 
 . "Progressing splendidly. Madam. We shall declare a divi- 
 dend this month." 
 
 The lady wondered, for Joplin Zinc was not yet in Opera- 
 tion, according to the latest report. 
 
 »♦♦♦♦♦ 
 
 . Meantime, while Mrs. Hawley-Crowles was still laying her 
 
 plans to herd the young girl into the mortgaged dukedom of 
 
 Altern, Father Waite kept his appointment, and called at the 
 
 Beaubien mansion on the afternoon Carmen had set. He was 
 
 168 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 warmly received by the girl herself, who had been watching 
 for his coming. 
 
 "Now," she began like a bubbling fountain, when they were 
 seated in the music room, "where's Jude? I want to find her." 
 
 "Jude? Why, I haven't the slightest idea to whom you 
 refer," returned the puzzled man. 
 
 "The woman who took me to the Sister Superior/' explained 
 Carmen. 
 
 "Ah! We never saw her again." 
 
 "Well," said the girl confidently, "I saw her, but she got 
 away from me. But I shall find her — -it is right that I should. 
 Now tell me, what are you going to do?" 
 
 "I have no idea. Earn my living some way," he replied 
 meditatively. 
 
 "You have lots of friends who will help you?" 
 
 "None," he said sadly. "I am an apostate, you know." 
 
 "Well, that means that you're free. The chains have 
 dropped, haven't they?" 
 
 "But left me dazed and confused." 
 
 "You are not dazed, nor confused! Why, you're like a 
 prisoner coming out of his dungeon into the bright sunlight. 
 You're only blinking, that's all. And, as for confusion — well, 
 if I would admit it to be true I could point to a terrible state 
 of it! Just think, a duke wants to marry me; Mrs. Hawley- 
 Crowles is determined that he shall; I am an Inca princess, 
 and yet I don't know who I am; my own people apparently are 
 swallowed up by the war in Colombia; and I am in an environ- 
 ment here in New York in which I have to fight every moment 
 to keep myself from flying all to pieces! But I guess God in- 
 tends to keep me here for the present. Oh, yes, and Monsignor 
 Lafelle insists that I am a Catholic and that I must join his 
 Church." 
 
 "Monsignor Lafelle! You — ^you know him?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, very well. And you?" 
 
 He evaded reply by another query. "Is Monsignor Lafelle 
 working with Madam Beaubien, your friend?" 
 
 "I think not," laughed Carmen. "But Mrs. Hawley- 
 Crowles — " 
 
 "Was it through him that she became a communicant?" 
 
 "Yes. Why?" 
 
 "And is he also working with Mr. J. Wilton Ames? He 
 converted Mrs. Ames's sister, the Dowager Duchess, in England. 
 The young Duke is also going to join the faith, I learn. But — 
 you?" He stopped suddenly and looked searchingly at her. 
 
 At that moment a maid entered, bearing a card. Close on 
 her heels followed the subject of their conversation, Monsignor 
 himself. 
 
 169 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 As he entered. Carmen rose hastily to greet him. Lafelle 
 bent over her hand. Then, as he straightened up, his glance 
 fell upon Father Waite. The latter bowed without speaking. 
 For a moment the two men stood eying each other sharply. 
 Then Lafelle looked from Father Waite to Carmen quizzically. 
 "I beg your pardon," he said, "I was not aware that you had 
 a caller. Madam Beaubien, is she at home?" 
 
 "No," said Carmen simply. "She went out for a ride." 
 
 "Ah!" murmured Lafelle, looking significantly from the 
 girl to Father Waite, while a smile curled his lips. "I see. I 
 will intrude no further." He bowed again, and turned toward 
 the exit. 
 
 "Wait!" rang forth Carmen's clear voice. She had caught 
 the churchman's insinuating glance and instantly read its 
 meaning. "Monsignor Lafelle, you will remain!" 
 
 The churchman's brows arched with surprise, but he came 
 back and stood by the chair which she indicated. 
 
 "And first," went on the girl, standing before him like an 
 incarnate Nemesis, her face flushed and her eyes snapping, 
 "you will hear from me a quotation from the Scripture, on 
 which you assume to be authority : 'As a man thinketh in his 
 heart, so is he!' " 
 
 For a moment Lafelle flushed. Then his face darkened. 
 Finally a bland smile spread over his features, and he sat 
 down. The girl resumed her seat. 
 
 "Now, Monsignor Lafelle," she continued severely, "you 
 have urged me to unite with your Church. When you asked 
 me to subscribe to your beliefs I looked first at them, and 
 then at you, their product. You have come here this after- 
 noon to plead with me again. The thoughts which you ac- 
 cepted when you saw Father Waite here alone with me, are 
 they a reflection of love, which thinketh no evil? Or do they 
 reflect the intolerance, the bigotry, the hatred of the carnal 
 mind? You told me that your Church would not let me teach 
 it. Think you I will let it or you teach me?" 
 
 Father Waite sat amazed at the girl's stinging rebuke. 
 When she concluded he rose to go. 
 
 "No!" said Carmen. "You, too, shall remain. You have left 
 the Church of which Monsignor Lafelle is a part. Either you 
 have done that Church, and him, a great injustice — or he does 
 ignorant or wilful wrong in insisting that I unite with it." 
 
 "My dear child," said Lafelle gently, now recovered and 
 wholly on his guard, "your impetuosity gets the better of your 
 judgment. This is no occasion for a theological discussion, 
 nor are you suflBciently informed to bear a part in such. As 
 for myself, you unintentionally do me great wrong. As I have 
 
 170 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 repeatedly told you, I seek only your eternal welfare. Else 
 •would I not labor with you as I do." 
 
 Carmen turned to Father Waite. "Is my eternal welfare 
 dependent upon acceptance of the Church's doctrines?" 
 
 "No," he said, in a scarcely audible voice. 
 
 A cynical look came into Lafelle's eyes. But he replied 
 affably: "When preachers fall out, the devil falls in. Your 
 reply, Mr. Waite, comes quite consistently from one who has 
 impudently tossed aside authority." 
 
 "My authority, Monsignor," returned the ex-priest in a low 
 tone, "is Jesus Christ, who said: 'Love thy neighbor as thy- 
 self.' " 
 
 "Ah!" murmured Lafelle; "then it was love that prompted 
 you to abandon your little flock?" 
 
 "I left my pulpit, Monsignor, because I had nothing to give 
 my people. I no longer believe the dogmas of the Church.. 
 And I refused longer to take the poor people's money to sup- 
 port an institution so politically religious as I believe your 
 Church to be. I could no longer take their money to purchase 
 the release of their loved ones from an imagined purgatory — 
 a place for which there is not the slightest Scriptural war- 
 rant—" 
 
 "You mistake, sir!" interrupted Lafelle in an angry tone. 
 
 "Very well, Monsignor," replied Father Waite; "grant, 
 then, that there is such Scriptural warrant; I would neverthe- 
 less know that the existence of purgatory was wholly incom- 
 patible with the reign of an infinite God of love. And, knowing 
 that, I have ceased to extort gifts of money from the ignorance 
 of the living and the ghastly terrors of the dying — " 
 
 "And so deceive yourself that you are doing a righteous act 
 in removing their greatest consolation," the churchman again 
 interrupted, a sneer curving his lip. 
 
 "Consolation! The consolation which the stupifying drug 
 affords, yes! Ah, Monsignor, as I looked down into the faces 
 of my poor people, week after week, I knew that no sacerdotal 
 intervehtion was needed to remit their sins, for their sins were 
 but their unsolved problems of life. Oh, the poor, grief-stricken 
 mothers who bent their tear-stained eyes upon me as I preached 
 the 'authority' of the Fathers! Well I knew that, when I told 
 them from my pulpit that their deceased infants, if baptized, 
 went straight to heaven, they blindly, madly accepted my words ! 
 And when I went further and told them that their dead babes 
 had joined the ranks of the blessed, and could thenceforth be 
 prayed to, could I wonder that they rejoiced and eagerly 
 grasped the false message of cheer? They believed because 
 they wanted it to be so. And yet those utterances of mine, 
 
 171 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 based upon the accepted doctrine of Holy Church, were but 
 narcotics, lulling those poor, afflicted minds into a false sense 
 of rest and security, and checking all further human progress." 
 
 Lafelle shrugged his shoulders. "It is to be regretted," he 
 said coldly, "that such narrowness of view should be per- 
 mitted to impede the salvation of souls." 
 
 "Salvation — of — souls!" exclaimed Father Waite. "Ah, 
 how many souls have I not saved ! — ^^and yet I know not whether 
 they or I be really saved! Saved? From what? From death? 
 Certainly not! From misery, disease, suffering in this life? 
 No, alasi no! Saved, then, from what? Ah, my friend, saved 
 only from the torments of a hell and a purgatory constructed 
 in the fertile minds of busy theologians!" 
 
 Lafelle turned to Carmen. "Some other day, perhaps — 
 when it may be more convenient for us both — and you are 
 alone — " 
 
 Carmen laughed. "Don't quit the field, Monsignor — unless 
 you surrender abjectly. You started this controversy, re- 
 member. And you were quite indiscreet, if you will recall." 
 
 Monsignor bowed, smiling, "You write my faults in brass," 
 he gently lamented. "When you publish my virtues, if you find 
 that I am possessed of any, I fear you will write them in 
 water." 
 
 Carmen laughed again. "Your virtues should advertise 
 themselves, Monsignor." 
 
 "Ah, then do you not see in me the virtue of desiring yoQr 
 welfare above all else, my child?" 
 
 "And the welfare of this great country, which you have 
 come here to assist in making dominantly Catholic, is it not so, 
 Monsignor?" 
 
 Lafelle started slightly. Then he smiled genially back at 
 the girl. "It is an ambition which I am not ashamed to own," 
 he returned gently. 
 
 "But, Monsignor," Carmen continued earnestly, "are you 
 not aware of the inevitable failure of your mission? Do you 
 not know that mediaeval theology comports not with modern 
 progress?" 
 
 "True, my child," replied- the churchman. "And more, 
 that our so-called modern progress — modernism, free-thinking, 
 liberty of conscience, and the consequent terrible extravagance 
 of beliefs and false creeds — constitutes the greatest menace now 
 confronting this fair land. Its end is inevitable anarchy and 
 chaos. Perhaps you can see that." 
 
 "Monsignor," said Carmen, "in the Middle Ages the Church 
 was supreme. Emperors and kings bowed in submission be- 
 fore her. The world was dominantly Catholic. Would you be 
 
 172 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 willing, for the sake of Church supremacy to-day, to return to 
 the state of society and civilization then obtaining?" 
 
 "That would not follow." 
 
 "No? I point you to Mexico, Cuba, the Philippines, South 
 America, all Catholic now or formerly, and I ask if you at- 
 tribute not their oppression, their ignorance, their low morals 
 and stunted manhood, to the dominance of churchly doctrines, 
 which oppose freedom of conscience and press and speech, and 
 make learning the privilege of the clergy and the rich?" 
 
 "It is an old argument, child," deprecated Lafelle. "May 
 I not point to France, on the contrary?" 
 
 "She has all but driven the Church from her borders." 
 
 "But is stiU Catholic!" he retorted. "And England, though 
 Anglican, calls herself Catholic. She will return to the true 
 fold. Germany is forsaking Luther, as she sees the old light 
 shining still undimmed." 
 
 Carmen looked at Father Waite. The latter read in her 
 glance an invitation further to voice his own convictions. 
 
 "Monsignor doubtless misreads the signs of the times," he 
 said slowly. "The hour has struck for the ancient and mate- 
 rialistic theories enunciated with such assumption of authority 
 by ignorant, often blindly bigoted theologians, to be laid aside. 
 The religion of our fathers, which is our present-day evangel- 
 ical theology, was derived from the traditions of the early 
 churchmen. They put their seal upon it; and we blindly accept 
 it as authority, despite the glaring, irrefutable fact that it is 
 utterly undemonstrable. Why do the people continue to be 
 deceived by it? Alas! only because of its mesmeric promise 
 of immortality beyond the grave." 
 
 Monsignor bowed stiffly in the direction of Father Waite. 
 "Fortunately, your willingness to plunge the Christian world 
 into chaos will fail of concrete results," he said coldly. 
 
 "I but voice the sentiments of millions, Monsignor. For 
 them, too, the time has come to put by forever the parapherna- 
 lia of images, candles, and all the trinkets used in the pagan 
 ceremonial which has so quenched our spirituality, and to seek 
 the undivided garment of the Christ." 
 
 "Indeed!" murmured Lafelle. 
 
 "The world to-day, Monsignor, stands at the door of a new 
 era, an era which promises a grander concept of God and re- 
 ligion, the tie which binds all to Him, than has ever before 
 been known. We are thinking. We are pondering. We are 
 delving, studying, reflecting. And we are at last beginning to 
 work with true scientific precision and system. As in chemis- 
 try, mathematics, and the physical sciences, so in matters re- 
 ligious, we are beginning to prove our working hypotheses. 
 
 45 173 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 And so a new spiritual enlightenment is come. People are 
 awaking to a dim perception of the meaning of spiritual 
 life, as exemplified in Jesus Christ. And they are vaguely be- 
 ginning to see that it is possible to every one. The abandon- 
 ment of superstition, religious and other, has resulted in such 
 a sudden expansion of the human mind that the most marvel- 
 ous material progress the world has ever witnessed has come 
 swiftly upon us, and we live more intensely in a single hour 
 to-day than our fathers lived in weeks before us. Oh, yes, we 
 are already growing tired of materiality. The world is not 
 yet satisfied. We are not happy. But, Monsignor, let not the 
 Church boast itself that the acceptance of her mediaeval dog- 
 mas will meet the world's great need. That need will be met, 
 I think, only as we more and more clearly perceive the tre- 
 mendous import of the mission of Jesus, and learn how to 
 grasp and apply the marvelous Christ-principle which he used 
 and told us we should likewise employ to work out our salva- 
 tion." 
 
 During Father Waite's earnest talk Lafelle sat with his 
 eyes fixed upon Carmen. When the ex-priest concluded, the 
 churchman ignored him and vouchsafed no reply. 
 
 "Well, Monsignor?" said the girl, after waiting some mo- 
 ments in expectation. 
 
 Lafelle smiled paternally. Then, nodding his shapely head, 
 he said in a pleading tone: 
 
 "Have I no champion here? Would you, too, suddenly 
 abolish the Church, Catholic and Protestant alike? Why, my 
 dear child, with your ideals— which no one appreciates more 
 highly than I — do you continue to persecute me so cruelly? 
 Can not you, too, sense the unsoundness of the views just now 
 so eloquently voiced?" 
 
 "That is cant, Monsignor! You speak wholly without 
 authority or proof, as is your wont." 
 
 The man winced slightly. "Well," he said, "there are 
 several hundred million Catholics and Protestants in the world 
 to-day. Would you presume to say that they are all mistaken, 
 and that you are right? Something of an assumption, is it 
 not? Indeed, I think you set the Church an example in that 
 respect." 
 
 "Monsignor, there were once several hundred millions who 
 believed that the earth was flat, and that the sun revolved about 
 it. Were they mistaken?" 
 
 "Yes. But the—" 
 
 "And, Monsignor, there are billions to-day who believe that 
 matter is a solid, substantial reality, and that rt possesses life 
 and sensation. There are billions who believe that the physical 
 
 174 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 eyes see, and the ears hear, and the hands feel. Yet these be- 
 liefs are all capable of scientific refutation. Did you know 
 that?" 
 
 "I am not unacquainted with philosophical speculation," 
 he returned suggestively. 
 
 "This is not mere speculation, Monsignor," put in Father 
 Waite. "The beliefs of the human mind are its fetish. Such 
 beliefs become in time national customs, and men defend them 
 with frenzy, utterly wrong and undemonstrable though they 
 be. Then they remain as the incubus of true progress. By 
 them understanding becomes degraded, and the human mind 
 narrows and' shrinks. And the mind that clings to them will 
 then mercilessly hunt out the dissenting minds of its heretical 
 neighbors and stone them to death for disagreeing. So now, 
 you would stone me for obeying Christ's command to take up 
 my bed on the Sabbath day." 
 
 Lafelle heaved a great sigh. "Still you blazon my faults," 
 he said in a tone of mock sadness, and addressing Carmen. 
 "But, like the Church which you persecute, I shall endure. We 
 have been martyred throughout the ages. And we are very 
 patient. Our wayward children forsake us," nodding toward 
 Father Watte, "and yet we welcome their return when they 
 have tired of the husks. The press teems with slander against 
 us; we are reviled from east to west. But our reply is that 
 such slander and untruth can best be met by our leading 
 individual lives of such an exemplary nature as to cause all 
 men to be attracted by our holy light." 
 
 "I agree with you, Monsignor," quickly replied Carmen. 
 "Scurrilous attacks upon the Church but make it a martyr. 
 Vilification returns upon the one who hurls the abuse. One 
 can not fling mud without soiling one's hands. I oppose not 
 men, but human systems of thought. Whatever is good will 
 stand, and needs no defense. Whatever is erroneous must go. 
 And there is no excuse, for salvation is at hand." 
 
 "Salvation? And your thought regarding that?" he said in 
 a skirmishing tone. 
 
 "Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man 
 his thoughts," she replied earnestly. "To him that soweth 
 righteousness — right thinking — shall be a sure reward. Ah, 
 Monsignor, do you at heart believe that the religion of the 
 Christ depends upon doctrines, signs, dogmas? No, it does not. 
 But signs and proofs naturally and inevitably follow the right 
 understanding of Jesus' teachings, even according to these 
 words: These signs shall follow them that believe. Paul gave 
 the formula for salvation, when he said : But we all with open 
 face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed 
 
 175 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit 
 of the Lord. Can you understand that? Can you see that, 
 taking Jesus as our model and following his every command — 
 seeing Him only, the Christ-principle, which is God, good, with- 
 out any admixture of evil — we change, even though slowly, 
 from glory to glory, step by step, until we rise out of all sense 
 of evil and death? And this is done by the Spirit which is 
 God." 
 
 "Yes," said Father Waite, taking up the conversation when 
 she paused. "Even the poorest human being can understand 
 that. Why, then, the fungus growth of traditions, ceremonies, 
 rites and forms which have sprung up about the Master's 
 simple words? Why the wretched formalistic worship through- 
 out the world? Why the Church's frigid, lifeless traditions, 
 so inconsistent with the enlarging sense of God which marks 
 this latest century? The Church has yet to prove its utility, 
 its right to exist and to pose as the religious teacher of man- 
 kind. Else must it fall beneath the axe which is even now at 
 the root of the barren tree of theology. Her theology, like the 
 Judaism of the Master's day, has no prophets, no poets,^ no 
 singers. And her priests, as in his time, have sunk into a 
 fanatical observance of ritual and form." 
 
 "And yet," observed Carmen, "you still urge me to unite 
 with it." 
 
 Lafelle was growing weary. Moreover, it erked him sore to 
 be made a target for the unassailable logic of the apostate 
 Waite. Then, too, the appearance of the ex-priest there that 
 afternoon in company with this girl who held such radical 
 views regarding religious matters portended in his thought the 
 possibility of a united assault upon the foundations of his 
 cherished system. This girl was now a menace. She nettled 
 and exasperated him. Yet, he could not let her alone. Did he 
 have the power to silence her? He thought he had. 
 
 "Have you finished with me?" he asked, with a show of 
 gaiety. "If so, I will depart." 
 
 "Yes," replied Carmen, "you may go now." 
 
 Lafelle paled. He had not expected that reply. He was 
 stung to the quick. What! dismissed like a lackey? He, Mon- 
 signor, a dignitary of Holy Church? He could not believe it! 
 He turned upon the girl and her companion, furious with anger. 
 
 "I have been very patient with you both," he said in a voice 
 that he could not control. "But there is a reasonable limit. 
 Abuse the Church as you will, the fact remains that the world 
 fears her and trembles before her awful voice! Why? Be- 
 cause the world recognizes her mighty power, a power of uni- 
 fied millions of human beings and exhaustless wealth. She is 
 
 176 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the leader, the guide, the teacher, the supreme object of 
 worship of a countless army who would lay down their lives 
 to-day for her. Her subjects gather from every quarter of the 
 globe. They are English, French, German, American — but they 
 are Catholics firstl Emperor, King, Ruler, or Government — 
 all are alike subject to her supreme, divine authority! Na- 
 tionalities, customs, family ties — all melt away before her, to 
 whom her followers bow in loyal consecration. The power 
 which her supreme leader and head wields is all but omnipor 
 tent! He is by divine decree Lord of the world. Hundreds of 
 millions bend before his throne and offer him their hearts and 
 swords ! I say, you have good reason to quake ! Aye, America 
 has reason to fear! The onward march of Holy Church is not 
 disturbed by the croaking calumnies of such as you who would 
 assault her! And to you I say, beware!" His face was purple, 
 as he stopped and mopped his damp brow. 
 
 "What we have to beware of, Monsignor," said Father 
 Waite gravely, "is the steady encroachments of Rome in this 
 country, with her weapons of fear, ignorance, and intoler- 
 ance — " 
 
 "Intolerance! You speak of intolerance! Why, in this 
 country, whose Constitution provided toleration for every form 
 of religion — " 
 
 Carmen had risen and gone to the man. "Monsignor," she 
 said, "the founders of the American nation did provide for 
 religious tolerance — and they were wise according . to their 
 light. But we of this day are still wiser, for we have some 
 knowledge of the wonderful working of mental laws. I, too, 
 believe in toleration of opinion. You are welcome to yours, 
 and I to mine. But — and here is the great point — the opinion 
 which Holy Church has held throughout the ages regarding 
 those who do not accept her dogmas is that they are damned, 
 that they are outcasts of heaven, that they merit the stake and 
 rack. The Church's hatred of heretics has been deadly. Her 
 thought concerning them has not been that of love, such as 
 Jesus sent out to all who did not agree with him, but deadly, 
 suggestive hatred. Now our Constitution does not provide for 
 tolerance of hate and murder-thoughts, which enter the minds 
 of the unsuspecting and work destruction there in the form of 
 disease, disaster, arid death. That is what we object to in 
 you, Monsignor. You murder your opponents with your poi- 
 sonous thoughts. And toward such thoughts we have a right to 
 be very intolerant, even to the point of destroying them in 
 human mentalities. Again I say, I war not against people, but 
 against the murderous carnal thought of the human mind!" 
 
 Monsignor had fallen back before the girl's strong words. 
 
 177 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 His face had grown black, and his hands were working con^ 
 vulsively. 
 
 "Monsignor," continued Carmen in a low, steady voice, 
 "you have threatened me with something which you apparently 
 hold over me. You are very like the people of Galilee: if you 
 can not refute by reason, you would circumvent by law, by the 
 Constitution, by Congress. That failing, you would destroy. 
 Instead of threatening us with the flames of hell for not being 
 good, why do you not show us by the great example of Jesus' 
 love how to be so? Are you manifesting love now — or the 
 earnal mind? I judge your Church by such as manifest it to 
 me. How, then, shall I judge it by you to-day?" 
 
 He rose slowly and took her by the hand. "I beg your 
 pardon," he said in a strange, unnatural voice. "I was hasty. 
 As you see, I am zealous. Naturally, I resent misjudgment. 
 And I assure you that you quite misunderstand me, and the 
 Church which I represent. But — I may come again?" 
 
 "Surely, Monsignor," returned the girl heartily. "A debate 
 such as this is stimulating, don't you think so?" 
 
 He bowed and tiirned to go. Just then the Beaubien ap- 
 peared. • 
 
 "Ah, Monsignor," she said lightly, as she stepped into the. 
 room. "You are exclusive. Why have you avoided me since 
 your return to America?" 
 
 "Madam," replied Lafelle, in some confusion, "no one 
 regrets more than I the press of business which necessitated 
 it. But your littje friend has told me I may return." 
 
 "Always welcome, Monsignor," replied the Beaubien, scan- 
 ning him narrowly as she accompanied him to the door. "By 
 the way, you forgot our little compact, did you not?" she added 
 coldly. 
 
 "Madam, I came out of a sense of duty." 
 
 "Of that I have no doubt, Monsignor. Adieu." 
 
 She returned again to the music room, where Carmen made 
 her acquainted with Father Waite, and related the conversa- 
 tion with Lafelle. While the girl talked the Beaubien's ex- 
 pression grew serious. Then Carmen launched into her asso- 
 ciation with the ex-priest, concluding with: "And he must 
 have something to do; right away, to earn his living!" 
 
 The Beaubien laughed. She always did when Carmen, no 
 matter how serious the conversation, infused her sparkling 
 animation into it. "That isn't nearly as important as to know 
 what he thinks about Monsignor' s errand here this afternoon, 
 dearie," she said. 
 
 Father Waite bowed. "Madam," he said with great serious- 
 ness, "I would be very wide awake." 
 
 178 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The Beaubien studied him for a moment. "Why?" She 
 asked. 
 
 "I think — I think — " He hesitated, and looked at Carmen. 
 
 "Well?" impatiently. 
 
 "I think he — has been greatly angered by — this girl — and 
 by my presence here." 
 
 "Ah!" Her face set hard. Then abruptly: "What are 
 you going to do now?" 
 
 "I have funds enough to keep me some weeks. Madam, 
 while making plans for the future." 
 
 "Then remain where I can keep in touch with you." 
 
 For the Beaubien had just returned from a two hours' ride 
 with J. Wilton Ames, and she felt that she needed a friend. 
 
 CHAPTER 20 
 
 THE Beaubien sat in the rounded window of the breakfast 
 room. Carmen nestled at her feet. The maid had just 
 removed the remains of the light luncheon. 
 
 "Dearest, please, please don't look so serious!" 
 
 The Beaubien twined her fingers through the girl's flowing 
 locks. "I will try, girlie," she said, though her voice broke. 
 
 Carmen looked up into her face with a wistful yearning. 
 "Will you not tell me?" she pleaded. "Ever since Monsignor 
 Lafelle and Father Waite were here you have been so quiet; 
 and that was nearly a week ago. I know I can help, if you 
 will only let me." 
 
 "How would you help, dearie?" asked the woman absently. 
 
 "By knowing that God is everywhere, and that evil is un- 
 real and powerless," came the quick, invariable reply. 
 
 "My sweet child! Can nothing shake your faith?" 
 
 "No. Why, if I were chained to a stake, with fire all around 
 me, I'd know it wasn't true!" 
 
 "I think you are chained — and the fire has been kindled," 
 said the woman in a voice that fell to a whisper. 
 
 "Then your thought is wrong — all wrong! And wrong 
 thought just can't be externalized to me, for I know that 'There 
 shall no mischief happen to the righteous,' that is, to the right- 
 thinking. And I think right." 
 
 "I'm sure you do, child." The Beaubien got up and walked 
 slowly around the room, as if to summon her strength. Then 
 she returned to her chair. 
 
 "I'm going to tell you," she said firmly. "You are right, 
 and I have been wrong. It concerns you. And you have help 
 that I have not. I — I have lost a great deal of money." 
 
 179 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Carmen laughed in relief. "Well, dear me ! that's nothing." 
 
 The Beaubien smiled sadly. "I agree with you. Mr. Ames 
 may have my money. I have discovered in the past few months 
 that there are better things in life. But — " her lips tightened, 
 and her eyes half closed — "he can not have you!" 
 
 "Oh! He wants me?" 
 
 "Yes. Listen, child : I know not why it is, but you awaken 
 something in every life into which you come. The woman I 
 was a year ago and the woman I am to-day meet almost as 
 strangers now. Why? The only answer I can give is, you. I 
 don't know what you did to people in South America; 1 can 
 only surmise. Yet of this I am certain, wherever you went 
 you made a path of light. But the effect you have on people 
 differs with differing natures. Just why this is, I do not know. 
 It must have something to do with those mental laws of which 
 I am so ignorant, and of which you know so much." 
 
 Carmen looked at her in wondering anticipation. The 
 Beaubien smiled down into the face upturned so lovingly, and 
 went on: 
 
 "From what you have told me about your priest, Jose, I 
 know that you were the light of his life. He loved you to the 
 complete obliteration of every other interest. You have not 
 said so; but I know it. How, indeed, could it be otherwise? On 
 the other hand, that heartless Diego — his mad desire to get 
 possession of you was only animal. Why should you, a child 
 of heaven, arouse such opposite sentiments?" 
 
 "Dearest," said the girl, laying her head on the woman's 
 knees, "that isn't what's worrying you." 
 
 "No — ^but I think of it so often, And, as for me, you have 
 turned me inside-out." 
 
 Carmen laughed again merrily. "Well, I think this side 
 wears better, don't you?" 
 
 "It is softer — ^it may not," returned the woman gently. "But 
 I have no desire to change back." She bent and kissed the 
 brown hair. "Mr. Ames and I have been — no, not friends. I 
 had no higher ideals than he, and I played his game with him. 
 Then you came. And at a time when he had involved me 
 heavily financially. The Colombian revolution — his cotton 
 deal — he must have foreseen, he is so uncanny — he must have 
 known that to involve me meant control whenever he might 
 need me ! He needs me now, for I stand between him and you." 
 
 "You don't!" Carmen was on her feet. "God stands be- 
 tween me and every form of evil!" She sat down on the arm 
 of the Beaubien's chair. "Is it because you will not let him 
 have me that he threatens to ruin you financially?" 
 
 "Yes. He couldn't ruin me in reputation, for — " her voice 
 again faded to a whisper, "1 haven't any." 
 
 180 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "That is not true!" cried the girl, throwing her arms about 
 the woman's neck. "Your true self is just coming to light! 
 Why, it is beautiful! And I love it so!" 
 
 The Beaubien suddenly burst into a flood of tears., The 
 strain of weeks was at last manifesting. "Oh, I have been in 
 the gutter ! — he dragged me through the mire ! — and I let him ! 
 I did it for money, money! I gave my soul for it! I schemed 
 and plotted with him; I ruined and pillaged with him; I mur- 
 dered reputations and blasted lives with him, that I might get 
 money, dirty, blood-stained money! Oh, Carmen, I didn't 
 know what I was doing, until you came! And now I'd hang 
 on the cross if I could undo it! But it's too late! And he has 
 you and me in his clutches, and he is crushing us!" She bent 
 her head and sobbed violently. 
 
 Carmen bent over the weeping woman. "Be still, and know 
 that I am God." The Beaubien raised her head and smiled 
 feebly through her tears. 
 
 "He governs all, dearest," whispered Carmen, as she drew 
 the woman's head to her breast. "And He is everywhere." 
 
 "Let us go away!" cried the Beaubien, starting up. 
 
 "Flee from our problems?" returned the girl. "But they 
 would follow. No, we will stay and meet them, right here!" 
 
 The Beaubien's hand shook as she clasped Carmen's. "I 
 can't turn to Kane, nor to Fitch, nor Weston. They are all 
 afraid of him. I've ruined Gannette myself — for him! I've 
 ruined Mrs. Hawley-Crowles — " 
 
 "Mrs. Hawley-Crowles!" exclaimed Carmen, rising. 
 
 "Oh, don't, don't!" sobbed the suffering woman, clinging to 
 the girl. 
 
 "But— how did you do that?" 
 
 "I lent her money — took her notes — ^which I sold again to 
 Mr. Ames." » 
 
 "Well, you can buy them back, can't you? And return the 
 money to her?" 
 
 "I can't! I've tried! He refuses to sell them!" 
 
 "Then give her your own money." 
 
 "Most that I have is mortgaged to him on the investments 
 I made at his direction," wailed the woman. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "I will try — I am trying, desperately! I will save her, if I 
 can! But — there is Monsignor Lafelle!" 
 
 "Is he working with Mr, Ames?" 
 
 "He works with and against him. And I'm sure he holds 
 something over you and me. But, I will send for him — I will 
 renew my vows to his Church — anything to — " 
 
 "Listen, dearest," interrupted Carmen. "I will go to Mr. 
 A,mes myself. If I am the cause of it all, I can — " 
 
 181 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "You will not!'* cried the Beaubien fiercely. "I — I -would 
 kill him!" 
 
 "Why, mother dearest!" 
 
 The desperate woman put her head in the girl's lap and 
 sobbed bitterly. 
 
 "There is a way out, dearest," whispered Carmen. "I know 
 there is, no matter what seems to be or to happen, for 'under- 
 neath are the everlasting arms.' I am not afraid. Mrs. Haw- 
 ley-Crowles told me this morning that Mrs. Ames intends to 
 give a big reception next week. Of course we will go. And 
 then I will see Mr. Ames and talk with him. Don't fear, dear- 
 est. He will do it for me. And — it will be right, I know." 
 
 And Carmen sat with the repentant woman all that day, 
 struggling with her to close the door upon her sordid past, and 
 to open it wide to "that which is to come." 
 
 » » ♦ » ♦ » 
 
 The days following were busy ones for many with whom 
 our story is concerned. Every morning saw Carmen on her 
 way to the Beaubien, to comfort and advise. Every afternoon 
 found her yielding gently to the relentless demands of society, 
 or to the tireisome calls of her thoroughly ardent wooer, the 
 young Duke of Altern. Carmen would have helped him if 
 she could. But she found so little upon which to build. And 
 she bore with him largely on account of Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, 
 for whom she and the Beaubien were now daily laboring. The 
 young man tacitly assumed proprietorship over the girl, and 
 all society was agog with expectation of the public announce- 
 ment of their engagement. 
 
 Mrs. Hawley-Crowles still came and went upon a tide of 
 unruffled joy. The cornucopia of Fortune lay full at her feet. 
 Her broker, Ketchim, basked in the sunlight of her golden 
 smiles — and quietly sold'his own Simiti stock on the strength 
 of her patronage. Society fawned and smirked at her ap- 
 proach, and envied her brilliant success, as it copied the cut 
 of her elaborate gowns — all but the deposed Mrs. Ames and 
 her unlovely daughter, who sulked and hated, until they re- 
 ceived a call from Monsignbr Lafelle. This was shortly after 
 that gentleman's meeting with Carmen and Father Waite in 
 the Beaubien mansion. And he left the Ames home with an 
 ominous look on his face. "The girl is a menace," he muttered, 
 "and she deserves her fate."* 
 
 The Ames grand reception, promising to be the most bril- 
 liant event of the year, barring the famous Bal de I'Opdra, 
 was set for Thursday; But neither Mrs. Hawley-Crowles nor 
 Carmen had received invitations. To the former it was evident 
 that there was some mistake. "For it can't be possible that the 
 
 182 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 hussy doesn't intend to invite us!" she argued. But Thursday 
 morning came, and found Mrs. Hawley-Crowles drenched with 
 tears of anxiety and vexation. 'Td call her up and ask, if I 
 dared," she groaned. But her courage failed. And, . to the 
 amazement of the exclusive set, the brilliant function was held 
 without the presence of its acknowledged leaders, Mrs. Hawley- 
 Crowles and her ward, the Inca princess. 
 
 ♦ »♦»•• 
 
 On Wednesday night Harris arrived from Denver. His 
 arrival was instantly made known to J. Wilton Ames, who, on 
 the morning following, summoned both him and Philip O. 
 Ketchim to his private office. There were present, also, Mon- 
 signor Lafelle and Alonzo Hood. Harris and Ketchim came 
 together. The latter was observed to change color as he timidly 
 entered the room and faced the waiting audience. 
 
 "Be seated, gentlemen," said Ames genially, after cordially 
 shaking hands with them and introducing the churchman. 
 Then, turning to Harris, "You are on your way to Colombia, 
 I learn. Going down to inaugurate work on the Simiti hold- 
 ings, I suppose?" 
 
 Harris threw a quick glance at Ketchim. The latter sat 
 blank, wondering if there were any portions of the earth to 
 which Ames's long arms did not reach. 
 
 "As a matter of fact," Ames continued, leaning back in his 
 chair and pressing the tips of his fingers together before him, 
 "a hitch seems to have developed in Simiti proceedings. I am 
 interested, Mr. Ketchim," turning suddenly and sharply upon 
 that gentleman, "because my brokers have picked up for me 
 several thousand shares of the stock." 
 
 Ketchim's hair began to rise. 
 
 "But," proceeded Ames calmly, "now that I have put money 
 into it, I learn that the Simiti Company has no property what- 
 ever in Colombia." 
 
 A haze slowly gathered before Ketchim's eyes. His ears 
 hummed. His heart throbbed violently. "How do you make 
 that out, Mr. Ames?" he heard Harris say in a voice that 
 seemed to come from an infinite distance. "I myself saw the 
 title papers which old Rosendo had, and saw them transferred 
 to Mr. Ketchim for the Simiti Company, Moreover, I personally 
 visited the mine in question." 
 
 "La Libertad? Quite so," returned Ames, "But, here's the 
 rub. The property was relocated by this Rosendo, and he 
 secured title to it under the name of the Chicago jnine. It was 
 that name which deceived the clerks in the Department of 
 Mines in Cartagena, and caused them to issue title, not know- 
 ing that it really was the famous old La Libertad." 
 
 183 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "Well, I don't see that there is any ground for confusion." 
 
 "Simply this," returned Ames evenly: "La Libertad mine, 
 since the death of its former owner, Don Ignacio de Rincon, 
 has belonged to the Church." > 
 
 "What!^' Harris was on his feet. "By what right does it 
 belong to the Church?" 
 
 "By the ancient law of 'en manos muertas,' my friend," 
 replied Ames, unperturbed. 
 
 "Good Lord! what's that?" 
 
 "Our friend, Monsignor Lafelle, representing the Church, 
 will explain," said Ames, waving a hand toward thdt gentle- 
 man. 
 
 Lafelle cleared his throat. "I deeply regret this unfortunate 
 situation, gentlemen," he began. "But, as Mr. Ames has pointed 
 out, the confusion came about through issuing title to the mine 
 under the name Chicago. Don Ignacio de Rincon, long before 
 his departure from Colombia after the War of Independence, 
 drew up his last will, and, following the established custom 
 among wealthy South Americans of that day, bequeathed this 
 mine, La Libertad, and other property, to the Church, invoking 
 the old law of 'en manos muertas' which, being translated, 
 means, 'in dead hands.' Pious Catholics of many lands have 
 done the same throughout the centuries. Such a bequest places 
 property in the custody of the Church; and it may never be 
 sold or disposed of in any way, but all revenue from it must 
 be devoted to the purchase of Masses for the souls in purgatory. 
 It was through the merest chance, I assure you, that your misr 
 take was brought to light. Knowing that our friend, Mr. Ames, 
 had purchased stock in your company, I took the pains to 
 investigate while in Cartagena recently, and made the discovery 
 which unfortunately renders your claim to the mine quite 
 null." 
 
 "God a'mighty!" exploded Harris. "Did you know this?" 
 turning savagely upon the paralyzed Ketchim. 
 
 "That," interposed Ames with cruel significance, "is a mat- 
 ter which he will explain in court." 
 
 Fleeting visions of the large blocks of stock which he had 
 sold; of the widows, orphans, and indigent clergymen whom 
 he had , involved ; of the notes which the banks held against 
 him; of his questionable deals with Mrs. Hawley-Crowles ; and 
 of the promiscuous peddling of his own holdings in' the now 
 ruined company, rushed over the clouded mind of this young 
 genius of high finance. His tongue froze, though his trembling 
 body dripped with perspiration. Somehow he got to his feet. 
 Somehow he found the door, and groped his way to a descend- 
 ing elevator. And somehow he lived through that terror- 
 haunted day and night. 
 
 184 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 But very early next morning, while his blurred eyes were 
 drinking in the startling report of the Simiti Company's col- 
 lapse, as set forth in the newspaper which he clutched in his 
 shaking hand, the maid led in a soft-stepping gentleman, who 
 laid a hand upon his quaking shoulder and read to him from 
 a familiar-looking document an irresistible invitation to take 
 up lodgings in the city jail. 
 
 There were other events forward at the same time, which 
 came to light that fateful next day. It was noon when Mrs. 
 Hawley-Crowles, after a night of mingled worry and anger over 
 the deliberate or unintentional exclusion of herself and Car- 
 men from the Ames reception the preceding night, descended to 
 her combined breakfast and luncheon. At her plate lay the 
 morning mail, including a letter from France. She tore it open, 
 hastily scanned it, then dropped with a gasp into her chair. 
 
 "Father — married to — a French — adventuress! Oh!" 
 
 The long-cherished hope of a speedy inheritance of his 
 snug fortune lay blasted at her feet. 
 
 The telephone bell rang sharply, and she rose dully to 
 answer it.» The call came from the city editor of one of the 
 great dailies. "It is reported," said the voice, "that your ward. 
 Miss Carmen Ariza, is the illegitimate daughter of a negro 
 priest, now in South America. We would like your denial, for 
 we learn that it was for this reason that you and the young 
 lady were not included among the guests at the Ames reception 
 last evening." 
 
 Mrs. Hawley-Crowles's legs tottered under her, as she 
 blindly wandered from the telephone without replying. Car- 
 men — the daughter of a priest! Her father a negro — her 
 mother, what? She, a mulatto, illegitimate — ! 
 
 The stunned woman mechanically took up the morning 
 paper which lay on the table. Her glance was at once at- 
 tracted to the great headlines announcing the complete ex- 
 posure of the Simiti bubble. Her eyes nearly burst from her 
 head as she grasped its fatal meaning to her. With a low, 
 inarticulate sound issuing from her throat, she turned and 
 groped her way back to her boudoir. 
 
 ♦ **¥*» 
 
 Meanwhile, the automobile in which Carmen was speeding 
 to the Beaubien mansion was approached by a bright, smiling 
 young woman, as it halted for a moment at a street corner. 
 Carmen recognized her as a reporter for one of the evening 
 papers, who had called often at the Hawley-Crowles mansion 
 that season for society items. 
 
 "Isn't it fortunate!" exclaimed the young reporter. "I was 
 
 185 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 on my way to see you. Our oflBce received a report this morn- 
 ing from some source that your father — you know, there has 
 been some mystery about your parentage — that he was really 
 a priest, of South America. His name-— let me think — what 
 did they say it was?" 
 
 "Jose?" laughed the innocent girl, utterly unsuspecting. 
 The problem of her 'descent had really become a source of 
 amusement to her. 
 
 "It began with a D, if I am not mistaken. I'm not up on 
 Spanish names," the young woman returned pleasantly. 
 
 "Oh, perhaps you mean Diego." 
 
 "That's it! Was that your father's name? We're very 
 much interested to know." 
 
 "Well, I'm sure I can't say. It might have been." 
 
 "Then you don't deny it?" 
 
 "No; how can I?" she said, smiling. "I never knew him." 
 
 "But — ^you think it was, don't you?" 
 
 "Well, I don't believe it was Padre Diego — he wasn't a 
 good man." 
 
 "Then you knew him?" 
 
 "Oh, very well! I was in his house, in Banco. He used to 
 insist that I was his child." 
 
 "I see. By the way, you knew a woman named Jude, didn't 
 you? Here in the city." 
 
 "Yes, indeed!" she exclaimed excitedly. "Do you know 
 where she is?" 
 
 "No. But she took you out of a house down on — " 
 
 "Yes. And I've tried to find her ever since." 
 
 "You know Father Waite, too, the ex-priest?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, very well. We're good friends." 
 
 "You and he going to work together, I suppose?" 
 
 "Why, I'm sure I don't know. He's very unsettled." 
 
 "H'm ! yes. Well, I thank you very much. You think this 
 Diego might have been your father? That is, you can't say 
 positively that he wasn't?" 
 
 "I can't say positively, no. But now I must go. You can 
 come up to the house and talk about South America, if you 
 want to." 
 
 She nodded pleasantly, and the car moved away. The in- 
 nocent, ingenuous girl was soon to learn what modern news- 
 gathering and dissemination means in this great Republic. But 
 she rode on, happy in the thought that she and the Beaubien 
 were formulating plans to save Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. 
 
 "We'll arrange it somehow," said the Beaubien, looking up 
 from her papers when Carmen entered. "Go, dearie, and play 
 the organ while I finish this. Then I will return home with 
 you to have a talk with Mrs. Hawley-Crowles." 
 
 186 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 For hours the happy girl lingered at the beloved organ. 
 The Beaubien at her desk below stopped often to listen. And 
 often she would hastily brush away the tears, and plunge again 
 into her papers. "I suppose I should have told Mrs. Hawley- 
 Crowles," she said. "But I couldn't give her any hope. And 
 even now it's very uncertain. Ames will yield ! I'll force him 
 to ! He knows I can expose him ! And yet," she reflected sadly, 
 "who would believe me?" The morning papers lay still unread 
 upon her table. 
 
 Late in the afternoon the Beaubien with Carmen entered her 
 car and directed the chauffeur to drive to the Hawley-Crowles 
 home. As they entered a main thoroughfare they heard the 
 newsboys excitedly cryipg extras. 
 
 "Horrible suicide! Double extra! Big mining scandal! 
 Society woman blows out brains! Double extra!" « 
 
 . Of a sudden a vague, unformed presentiment of impending 
 evil came to the girl. She half rose, and clutched the Beaubien's 
 hand. Then there flitted through her mind like a beam of 
 light the words of the psalmist: "A thousand shall fall at 
 thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not 
 come nigh thee." She sank back against the Beaubien's shoul- 
 der and closed her eyes. 
 
 The car rolled on. Presently the chauffeur turned and 
 said something through the speaking tube. 
 
 "What!" cried the Beaubien, springing from the seat. 
 "Merciful heaven! Stop and get a paper at once!" The 
 chauffeur complied. 
 
 A loud cry escaped her as she took the sheet and glanced 
 at the startling headlines. Mrs. James Hawley-Crowles, finan- 
 cially ruined, and hurled to disgrace from the pinnacle of social 
 leadership by the awful exposure of the parentage of her ward, 
 had been found in her bedroom, dead, with a revolver clasped 
 in her cold hand. 
 
 187 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 W 
 
 BOOK 4 
 
 ATCHMAN, what of the night? 
 The watchman said. The morning cometh. 
 
 — Isaiah. 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 1 
 
 THE chill winds of another autumn swirled through the 
 masonry-lined canons of the metropolis and sighed 
 among the stark trees of its deserted parks. They caught 
 up the tinted leaves that dropped from quivering branches and 
 tossed them high, as Fate wantons with human hopes before 
 she blows her icy breath upon them. They shrieked among 
 the naked spars of the Cossack, drifting with her restless mas- 
 ter far out upon the white-capped waves. They moaned in 
 low-toned agony among the marble pillars of the Crowles 
 mausoleum, where lay in pitying sleep the misguided woman . 
 whose gods of gold and tinsel had betrayed her. 
 
 On the outskirts of the Bronx, in a newly opened suburb, 
 a slender girl, with books and papers under her arm, walked 
 slowly against the sharp wind, holding her hat with her free 
 hand, and talking rapidly to a young man who accompanied 
 her. Toward them came an old negro, leaning upon a cane. 
 As he stepped humbly aside to make room, the girl looked up. 
 Then, without stopping, she slipped a few coins into his coat 
 pocket as she passed. 
 
 The negro stood in dumb amazement. He was poor — his 
 clothes were thin and worn — ^but he was not a beggar — he had 
 asked nothing. The girl turned arid threw back a smile to 
 him. Then of a sudden there came into the old man's wrin- 
 kled, care-lined face such a look, such a comprehension of 
 that love which knows neither Jew nor Gentile, Greek nor 
 Barbarian, as would have caused even the Rabbis, at the cost 
 of defilement, to pause and seek its heavenly meaning. 
 
 A few blocks farther on the strong wind sternly disputed 
 the girl's right to proceed, and she tui;ned with a merry laugh 
 to her companion. But as she stood, the wind fell, leaving a 
 heap of dead leaves about her feet. Glancing down, something 
 caught her eye. She stooped and took up a two-dollar bill. 
 
 Her companion threw her a wondering look; but the girl 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 made no comment. In silence they went on, until a few min- 
 utes more of brisk walking brought them to a newly built, 
 stucco-coated bungalow. Running rapidly up the steps, the 
 girl threw wide the door and called, "Mother dear!" 
 
 The Beaubien rose from her sewing to receive the hearty 
 embrace. "Well, dearie?" she said, devouring the sparkling 
 creature with eager eyes. "What luck?" —v- i ^ 
 
 "We're registered! Lewis begins his law course at once, 
 and I may take what I wish. And Mr. Hitt's coming to call 
 to-night and bring a friend, a Mr. Haynerd, an editor. What's 
 Jude got for supper? My! I'm starved." 
 
 The Beaubien drew the, girl to her and kissed her again and 
 again. Then she glanced over her shoulder at the man with a 
 bantering twinkle in her eyes and said, "Don't you wish you 
 could do that? But you can't." 
 
 "Yes he can, too, mother," asserted the girl. 
 
 Father Waite sighed* "I'm afraid it wouldn't look well," 
 he said. "And, besides, I don't dare lose my heart to her." 
 
 With a final squeeze the girl tore herself from the Beau- 
 bien's reluctant arms and. hurried to the little kitchen. "What 
 is it to-night, Jude?" she demanded, catching, the domestic in 
 a vigorous embrace. 
 
 "Hist!" said Jude, holding up a finger. "It's a secret. I'm 
 afraid you'd tell him." 
 
 "Not a word — I promise." 
 
 "Well, then, liver and bacon, with floating island," she 
 whispered, very mysteriously. 
 
 "Oh, goody!" cried Carmen. "He just loves them both!" 
 
 Returning to the little parlor. Carmen encountered the fixed 
 gaze of both the Beaubien and Father Waite. "Well?" she 
 demanded, stopping and looking from one to the other. 
 
 "What about that two dollars?" said the Beaubien, in a tone 
 of mock severity. 
 
 "Oh," laughed the girl, running to the woman and seating 
 herself in the waiting lap, "he told, didn't he? Can't I ever 
 trust you with a secret?" in a tone of rebuke, turning to the 
 man. 
 
 "Surely," he replied, laughing; "and I should not have 
 divulged this had I not seen in the incident something more 
 than mere chance — something meant for us all." 
 
 Then he became serious. "I — I think I have seen the work- 
 ing of a stupendous mental law — am I not right?" addressing 
 the girl. "You saw a need, and met it, unsolicited. You found 
 your own in another's good." 
 
 The girl smiled at the Beaubien without replying. "What 
 about it, dearie?" the latter asked tenderly. 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "She need not ahswer," said Father Waite, "for we know. 
 She but cast her bread upon the unfathomable ocean of love, 
 and it returned to her, wondrously enriched." 
 
 "If you are going to talk about me, I shall not stay," de- 
 clared Carmen, rising. "I'm going out to help Jude." And 
 she departed for the kitchen, but not without leaving a smile 
 for each of them as she went. And they understood. 
 
 The Beaubien and Father Waite remained some moments in 
 silence. Then the woman spoke. "I am learning," she said. 
 "She is the light that is guiding me. This little incident which 
 you have just related is but a manifestation of the law of love 
 by which she lives. She gave, unasked, and with no desire to 
 be seen and advertised. It returned to her ten-fold. It is al- 
 ways so with her. There was no chance, no miracle, no luck 
 about it. She herself did nothing. It was — it was — only the 
 working of her beloved Christ-principle. Oh, Lewis! if we 
 only knew — " 
 
 "We shall know. Madam!" declared the man vehemently. 
 "Her secret is but the secret of Jesus himself, which was open 
 to a world too dull to comprehend. Carmen shall teach us. 
 And," his eyes brightening, "to that end I have been formulat- 
 ing a great plan. That's why I've asked Hitt to come here 
 to-night. I have a scheme to propose. Remember, my dear 
 friend, we are true searchers ; and 'all things work together for 
 good to them that love God.' Our love of truth and real good 
 is so great that, like the consuming desire of the Jewish nation, 
 it is bound to bring the Christ!" 
 
 For three months the Beaubien and Carmen had dwelt to- 
 gether in this lowly environment; and here they had found 
 peace, the first that the tired woman had known since child- 
 hood. The sudden culmination of those mental forces which 
 had ejected Carmen from society, crushed Ketchim and a 
 score of others, and brought the deluded Mrs. Hawley-Crowles 
 to a bitter end, had left the Beaubien with dulled sensibilities. 
 Even Ames himself had been shocked into momentary aban- 
 donment of his relentless pursuit of humanity by the unan- 
 ticipated denoument. But when he had sufficiently digested 
 the newspaper accounts wherein were set forth in unsparing 
 detail the base rumors of the girl's parentage and of her re- 
 moval from a brothel before her sudden elevation to social 
 heights, h6 rose in terrible wrath and prepared to hunt down 
 to the death the perpetrators of the foul calumny. Whence 
 had come this tale, which even the girl could not refute? From 
 Lafelle? He had sailed for Europe — though but a day before. 
 Ketchim? The man was cringing like a craven murderer in his 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 cell, for none dared give him bail. Reed? Harris? Was it 
 revenge for his own sharp move in regard to La Libertad? He 
 would have given all he possessed to lay his heavy hands upon 
 the guilty ones! The editors of the great newspapers, per- 
 haps? Ames raged like a wounded lion in the office of every 
 editor in the city. But they were perfectly safe, for the girl, 
 although she told a straightforward story, could not say posi- 
 tively that the published statements concerning her were false. 
 Yet, though few knew it, there were two city editors and several 
 reporters who, iii the days immediately following, found it 
 convenient to resign their positions and leave the city before 
 the awful wrath of the powerful man. 
 
 Then Ames turned upon his wife. And, after weeks of 
 terror, that browbeaten woman, her hair whitening under the 
 terrible persecution of her relentless master, fled secretly, 
 with her terrified daughter, to England, whither the stupified 
 Duke of Altern and his scandalized mother had betaken them- 
 selves immediately following the expose. Thereupon Ames's 
 lawyer drew up a bill of divorce, alleging desertion, and laid 
 it before the judge who fed from his master's hand. 
 
 Meantime, the devouring wrath of Ames swept like a prairie 
 fire over the dry, withering stalks of the smart set. He vowed 
 he would take Carmen and flaunt her in the faces of the. miser- 
 able character-assassins who had sought her ruin! He swore 
 he would support her with his untold millions and force society 
 to acknowledge her its queen! He had it in his power to 
 wreck the husband of every arrogant, supercilious dame in 
 the entire clique ! He commenced at once with the unfortunate 
 Gannette. The latter, already tottering, soon fell before the 
 subtle machinations of Hodson and his able cohorts. Then, 
 as a telling example to the rest, Ames pursued him to the doors 
 of the Lunacy Commission, and rested not until that body had 
 condemned his victim to a living death in a state asylum. 
 Kane, Fitch, and Weston fled to cover, and concentrated their 
 guns upon their common enemy. The Beaubien alone stood 
 out against him for three months. Her existence was death in 
 life; but from the hour that she first read the newspaper in- 
 telligence regarding Carmen and the unfortunate Mrs. Hawley- 
 Crowles, she hid the girl so completely that Ames was effec- 
 tually balked in his attempts at drastic vindication in her be- 
 half. 
 
 But this served only to intensify his anger, and he thereupon 
 turned its full force upon the lone woman. .Driven to despera- 
 tion, she stood at length at bay and hurled at him her remain- 
 ing weapon. Again the social set was rent, and this time by the 
 report that the black cldud of bigamy hung over Ames. It was 
 
 6 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 a fat season for the newspapers, and they made the most of 
 it. As a result, several of them found themselves with libel 
 suits on their hands. The Beaubien herself was confronted 
 with a suit for defamation of character, and was obliged to 
 testify before the judge whom Ames owned outright that she 
 had but the latter' s word for the charge, and that, years since, 
 in a moment of maudlin sentimentalism, he had confessed to 
 her that, as far as he knew, the wife of his youth was still 
 living. The suit went against her. Ames then took his heavy 
 toll, and retired within himself to sulk and plan future assaults 
 and reprisals. 
 
 The Beaubien, crushed, broken, sick at heart, gathered up 
 the scant remains of her once large fortune, disposed of her 
 effects, and withdrew to the outskirts of the city. She would 
 have left the country, but for the fact that the tangled state of 
 her finances necessitated her constant presence in New York 
 while her lawyers strove to bring order out of chaos and placate 
 her raging persecutor. To flee meant complete abandonment of 
 her every financial resource to Ames. And so, with the assist- 
 ance of Father Waite and Elizabeth Wall, who placed them- 
 selves at once under her command, she took a little house, far 
 from the scenes of her troubles, and quietly removed thither 
 with Carmen. 
 
 One day shortly thereafter a woman knocked timidly at her 
 door. Carmen saw the caller and fled into her arms. "It's 
 Jude!" she cried joyously. 
 
 The woman had come to return the string of pearls which 
 the girl had thrust into her hands on the night of the Charity 
 Ball. Nobody knew she had them. She had not been able to 
 bring herself to sell them' She had wanted — oh, she knew not 
 what, excepting that she wanted to see again the girl whose 
 image had haunted her since that eventful night when the 
 strange child had wandered into her abandoned life. Yes, she 
 would have given her testimony as to Carmen; but who would 
 have believed her, a prostitute? And — ^but the radiant girl 
 gathered her in her arms and would not let her go without a 
 promise to return. 
 
 And return she did, many times. And each time there was 
 a change in her. The Beaubien always forced upon her a little 
 money and a promise to come back. It developed that Jude was 
 cooking in a cheap down-town restaurant. "Why not for us, 
 mother, if she will?" asked Carmen one day. And, though the 
 sin-stained woman demurred and protested her unworthiness, 
 yet the love that knew no evil drew her irresistibly, and she 
 yielded at length, with her heart bursting. 
 
 Then, in her great joy. Carmen's glad cry echoed through 
 the little house: "Oh, mother dear, we're free, we're free!" 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 But the Beaubien was not free. Night after night her sleep- 
 less pillow was wet with bitter tears of reniorse, when the ac- 
 cusing angel stood before her and relentlessly revealed each 
 act of shameful meanness, of cruel selfishness, of sordid im- 
 morality in her wasted life. And, lastly, the weight of her 
 awful guilt in bringing about the destruction of Mrs. Hawley- 
 Crowles lay upon her soul lili£ a mountain. Oh, if she had 
 only foreseen even a little of it ! Oh, that Carmen had come to 
 her before — or not at all! And yet she could not wish that 
 she had never known the girl. Far from it! -The day of judg- 
 ment was bound to come. She saw that now. And, but for 
 the comforting presence of that sweet child, she had long since 
 become a raving maniac. It was Carmen who, in those first 
 long nights of gnawing, corroding remorse, wound her soft 
 arms about the Beaubien's neck, as she lay tossing in mental 
 agony on her bed, and whispered the assurances of that infinite 
 Love which said, "Behold, I make all things new!" It was 
 Carmen who whispered to her of the everlasting arms beneath, 
 and of the mercy reflected by him who, though on the cross, 
 forgave mankind because of their pitiable ignorance. It is 
 ignorance, always ignorance of what constitutes real good, 
 that makes men seek it through wrong channels. The Beau- 
 bien had sought good— all the world does — ^but she had never 
 known that God alone is good, and that men cannot find it 
 until they reflect Him. And so she had "missed the mark." 
 Oh, sinful, mesmerized world, ye shall find Me — the true good 
 — only when ye seek Me with all your heart! And yet, "I, even 
 I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions fbr mine own 
 sake, and will not remember thy sins." Only a God who is 
 love could voice such a promise! Aifd Carmen knew; and she 
 hourly poured her great understanding of love into the empty 
 heart of the stricken Beaubien. 
 
 Then at last came days of quiet, and planning for the future. 
 The Beaubien would live^yes, but, not for herself. Nay, that 
 life had gone out forever, nor would mention of it pass her 
 lips again. The Colombian revolution — her mendacious con- 
 nivances with Ames — her sinful, impenitent life of gilded vice — 
 aye, the door was now closed against that, absolutely and 
 forever more. She had passed through the throes of a new 
 birth; she had risen again from the bed of anguish; but she 
 rose stripped of her worldly strength. Carmen was now the 
 staff upon which she leaned. 
 
 And Carmen — what had been her thought when foul cal- 
 umny laid its sooty touch upon her? What had been the work- 
 ing of her mind when that world which she had sought to 
 illumine with the light of her own purity had cast her out? 
 
 8 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 When the blow fell the portals of her mind closed at once 
 against every accusing thought, against every insidious sug- 
 gestion of defeat, of loss, of dishonor. The arrows of malice, 
 as well as those of self-pity and condemnation, snapped and 
 fell, one by one, as they hurtled vainly against the whole 
 armor of God wherewith the girl stood clad. Self sank into 
 service; and she gathered the bewildered, suffering Beaubien 
 into her arms as if she had been a child. She would have gone 
 to Ames, too, had she been permitted — not to plead for mercy, 
 but to offer the tender consolation and support which, despite 
 the havoc he was committing, she knew he needed even more 
 than the Beaubien herself. • 
 
 "Paul had been a murderer," she often said, as she sat in 
 the darkness alone with the suffering woman and held her 
 trembling hand. "But he became the chief of apostles. Think 
 of it ! When the light came, he shut the door against the past. 
 If he hadn't, dearest, he never could have done what he did. 
 And you, and Mr. Ames, will have to do the same." And this 
 the Beaubien could do, and did, after months of soul-racking 
 struggle. But Ames sat in spiritual darkness, whipped by the 
 foul brood of lust and revenge, knowing not that the mountain- 
 ous wrath which he hourly heaped higher would some day fall, 
 and bury him fathoms deep. 
 
 Throughout the crisis Father Waite had stood by them 
 stanchly. And likewise had Elizabeth Wall. "I've just longed 
 for some reasonable excuse to become a social outcast," the 
 latter had said, as she was helping Carmen one day to pack 
 her effects prior to removing from the Hawley-Crowles man- 
 sion. "I long for a hearthstone to which I can attach myself — " 
 
 "Then attach yourself to ours !" eagerly interrupted Carmen. 
 
 "I'll do it!" declared Miss Wall. "For I know that now you 
 are really going to live — and I want to live as you will. More- 
 over^" She paused and smiled queerly at the girl — "I am 
 quite in love with your hero, Father Waite, you know." 
 
 Harris, too, made a brief call before departing again for 
 Denver. "I've got to hustle for a living now," he explained, 
 "and it's me for the mountains once more! New York is no 
 place for such a tender lamb as I. Oh, I've been well trimmed 
 —but I know enough now to keep away from this burg!" 
 
 While he was yet speaking there came a loud ring at the 
 front door of the little bungalow, followed immediately by the 
 entrance of the manager of a down-town vaudeville house. He 
 plunged at once into his errand. He would offer Carmen one 
 hundred dollars a week, and a contract for six months, to ap- 
 pear twice daily in his theater. "She'll make a roar!" he as- 
 serted. "Heavens, Madam! but she did put it over the society 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ginks." And the Beaubien, shivering at the awful proposal, 
 was glad Harris was there to lead the zealous theatrical man 
 firmly to the door. 
 
 Lastly, came one Amos A. Hitt, gratuitously, to introduce 
 himself as one who knew Cartagena and was likely to return 
 there in the not distant future, where he would be glad to do 
 what he might to remove the stain which had been laid upon 
 the name of the fair girl. The genuineness of the man stood 
 out so prominently that the Beaubien took him at once into her 
 house, where he was made acquainted with Carmen. 
 
 "Oh," cried the girl, "Cartagena ! Why, I wonder — do you 
 know Padre Jose de Rincon?" 
 
 "A priest who once taught there in the University, many 
 years ago? And who was sent up the river, to Simiti? Yes, 
 
 well," 
 
 Then Carmen fell upon his neck; and there in that moment 
 was begun a friendship that grew daily stronger, and in time 
 bore richest fruit. It soon became known that Hitt was giving 
 a course of lectures that fall in the University, covering the 
 results of his archaeological explorations; so Carmen and 
 Father Waite went often to hear him. And the long breaths 
 of University atmosphere which the girl inhaled stimulated a 
 desire for more. Besides, Father Waite had some time before 
 announced his determination to study there that winter, as 
 long as his meager funds would permit. 
 
 "I shall take up law," he had one day said. "It will open 
 to me the door of the political arena, where there is such great 
 need of real men, men who stand for human progress, patriot- 
 ism, and morality, I shall seek office — not for itself, but for 
 the good I can do, and the help I can be in a practical way 
 to my fellow-men. I have a little money. I can work my way 
 through." 
 
 Carmen shared the inspiration; and so she, too, with the 
 Beaubien's permission, applied for admittance to the great 
 halls of learning, and was accepted. . 
 
 * * * * '^ If 
 
 "And now," began Father Waite that evening, when Hitt 
 and his friend had come, and, to the glad, surprise of Carmen, 
 Elizabeth Wall had driven up in her car to take the girl for a 
 ride, but had yielded to the urgent invitation to join the little 
 conference, "my plan, in which I invite you to join, is, briefly, 
 to study this girl!" 
 
 Carmen's eyes opened wide, and her face portrayed blank 
 amazement, as Father Waite stood pointing gravely to her. 
 Nor were the others less astonished — all but the Beaubien. 
 She nodded her head comprehendingly. 
 
 10 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Let me explain," Father Waite continued. "We are as- 
 sembled here to-night as representatives, now or formerly, of 
 very diversified lines of human thought. I will begin with 
 myself. I have stood as the embodiment of Christly claims, 
 as the active agent of one of the mightiest of human institu- 
 tions, the ancient Christian Church. For years I have studied 
 its accepted authorities and its all-inclusive assumptions, which 
 embrace heaven, earth, and hell. For years I sought with sin- 
 cere consecration to apply its precepts to the dire needs of 
 humanity. I have traced its origin in the dim twilight of the 
 Christian era and its progress down through the centuries, 
 through heavy vicissitudes to absolute supremacy, on down 
 through schisms and subsequent decline, to the present hour, 
 when the great system seems to be gathering its forces for a 
 life and death stand in this, the New World. I have known 
 and associated with its dignitaries and its humble priests. I 
 know the policies and motives underlying its quiet movements. 
 I found it incompatible with human progress. And so I with- 
 drew from it my allegiance." 
 
 Carmen's thought, as she listened, was busy with another 
 whose experience had not -been dissimilar, but about whom 
 the human coils had been too tightly wound to be so easily 
 broken. 
 
 "Our scholarly friend, Mr. Hitt," Father Waite went on, 
 "represented the great protest against the abuses and corrup- 
 tion which permeated the system for which I stood. He, like 
 myself, embodied the eternal warfare of the true believer 
 against the heretic. Yet, without my churchly system, I was 
 taught to believe, he and those who share his thought are 
 damned. But, oh, strange anomaly! we both claimed the same 
 divine Father, and accepted the Christly definition of Him as 
 Love. We were two brothers of the same great family, yet 
 calling each other anathema!" 
 
 He looked over at Hitt and smiled. "And to-day," he con- 
 tinued, "we brothers are humbly meeting on the common 
 ground of failure — failure to understand the Christ, and to 
 meet the needs of our fellow-men with our elaborate systems of 
 theology." 
 
 "I heard another priest, years ago, make a similar confes- 
 sion," said Hitt reflectively. "I would he were here to-night!" 
 
 "He is here, in spirit," replied Father Waite; "for the same 
 spirit of eager inquiry and humble desire for truth that ani- 
 mates us no doubt moved him. I have reason to think so," 
 he added, looking at Carmen. "For this. girl's spiritual devel- 
 opment I believe to be very largely his work." 
 
 Hitt glanced at Carmen inquiringly. He knew but little as 
 yet of her past association with the priest Jose. 
 
 11 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "You and I, Mr. Hitt, represented the greatest systems of 
 so-called Christian belief," pursued Father Waite. "Madam 
 Beaubien, on the other hand, has represented the world that 
 waits, as yet vainly, for redemption. We have not been able 
 to afford it her. Yet — pardon my frankness in thus referring 
 to you. Madam. It is only to benefit us all — that the means of 
 redemption have been brought to her, we must now admit." 
 
 All turned and looked at Carmen. She started io speak, 
 but Father Waite raised a detaining hand. "Let me proceed," 
 he said. "Miss Wall represents the weariness of spirit and un- 
 rest abroad in the world to-day, the spirit that finds life not 
 worth the while; and Mr. Haynerd voices the cynical disbe- 
 lief, the agnosticism, of that great class who can not accept 
 the childish teiiets of our dogmatic systems of theology, yet who 
 have nothing but the philosophy of stoicism or epicureanism to 
 offer in substitute." 
 
 Haynerd bowed and smiled. "You have me correctly classi- 
 fied," he said. "I'm a Yankee, and from Missouri." 
 
 "And now, having placed us," said the Beaubien, "how 
 will you classify Carmen?" 
 
 Father Waite looked at the girl reverently. "Hers is the 
 leaven," he replied gently; "which has leavened the whole lump. 
 
 "My good friends," he went on earnestly, "like all priests 
 and preachers, I have been but a helpless spectator of human- 
 ity's troubles. I have longed and prayed to know how to do 
 the works which Jesus is said to have done; yet, at the sick- 
 bed or the couch of death, what could I do — I, to whom the 
 apostolic virtue is supposed to have descended in the long line 
 of succession? I could anoint with holy oil. I could make 
 signs, and pray. I could give promises of remitted sins — 
 though I knew I spoke not truth. I could comfort by voicing 
 the insipid views of our orthodox heaven. And yet I know 
 that what I gave was but mental nostrums, narcotics, to stupify 
 until death might end the suffering. Is that serving Christ? 
 Is that Christianity? Alas, no!" 
 
 "And if you were a good orthodox priest," interposed Hay- 
 nerd, "you would refuse burial to dissenters, and bar from 
 your communion table all who were not of your faith, eh?" 
 
 "Yes," sadly. "I would have to, were I consistent; for 
 Catholicism is the only true faith, founded upon the revealed 
 word of God, you know." He smiled pathetically as he looked 
 around at the little group. 
 
 "Now," he continued, "you, Mr. Haynerd, are a man of the 
 world. You are not. in sympathy with the Church. You are 
 an infidel, an unbeliever. And therefore are you 'anathema,' 
 you know." He laughed as he went on. "But you can not 
 
 12 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 deny that at times you think very seriously. And, I may go 
 farther: you long, intensely, for something that the world does 
 not offer. Now, what is it but truth that you are seeking?" 
 
 "I want to know," answered Haynerd quickly. "I want to 
 be shown. I am fond of exhibitions of sleight-of-hand and 
 jugglery. But the priestly thaumaturgy that claims to trans- 
 form a biscuit into the flesh of a man dead some two thousand ' 
 years, and a bit of grape juice into his blood, irritates me in- 
 expressibly! And so does the jugglery by which your Protestr 
 ant fellows, Hitt, attempt to reconcile their opposite beliefs. 
 Why, what difference can it possibly make to the Almighty 
 whether we miserable little beings down here are baptised with 
 water, milk, or kerosene, or whether we are immersed, sprin- 
 kled, or well soused? Good heavens! for nearly twenty centu- 
 ries you have been wandering among the non-essentials. Isn't 
 it time to get down to business, and instead of burning at the 
 stake every one who differs with you, try conscientiously to 
 put into practice a few of the simple moral precepts, such as 
 the Golden Rule, and loving one's neighbor as one's self?" 
 
 "There," commented Father Waite, "you have a bit of the 
 world's opinion of the Church! Can we say that the censure 
 is not just? Would not Christ himself to-day speak even more 
 scathingly to those who advocate a system of belief that puts 
 blinders on men's minds, and then leads them into the pit of 
 ignorance and superstition?" 
 
 "Ye have taken away the key of knowledge," murmured 
 Carmen; "ye entered not in yourselves, and them that were 
 entering in ye hindered." 
 
 "Just so!" exclaimed Haynerd, looking at the girl who stood 
 as a living protest against all that hampers the expansion of 
 the human mind; that quenches its note of joy, and dulls its 
 enlarging and ever nobler concept of God. "Now I want to 
 know, first, if there is a God; and, if so, what He is, and what 
 His relation is to me. I want to. know what I am, and why I 
 am here, and what future I may look forward to, if any. I 
 don't care two raps about a God who can't help me here on 
 earth, who can't set me right and make me happy — rcure my 
 ills, meet my needs, and supply a few of the luxuries as well. 
 And if there is a God, and we can meet Him only by dying, 
 then why in the name of common sense all this hullabaloo 
 about death? Why, in that case, death is the grandest thing in 
 life! And I'm for committing suicide right away! But you 
 preacher fellows fight death tooth and nail. You're scared 
 stiff when you contemplate it. You make Christianity just a 
 grand preparation for death. Yet it isn't the gateway to life 
 to you, and you know it! Then why, if you are honest, do 
 you tell such rubbish to your trusting followers?" 
 
 13 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "I would remind you," returned Hitt with a little laugh, 
 "that I don't, now." 
 
 "Well, friends," interposed Father Waite, "it is to take up 
 for earnest consideration just such questions as Mr. Haynerd 
 propounds, that I have my suggestion to make, namely, that 
 we meet together once or twice a week, or as often as we may 
 agree upon, to search for — " his voice dropped to a whisper — ■ 
 "to search for God, and with this young girl as our guide. For 
 I believe she is very close to Him. The world knows God 
 only by hearsay. Carmen has proved Him. 
 
 "Men ask why it is," he went on, "that God remains hidden 
 from them; why they can not understand Him. They forget 
 that Jesus revealed God as Love. And, if that is so, in order 
 to know Him all mankind must love their fellow-men. But 
 they go right on hating one another, cheating, abusing, rob- 
 bing, slaying, persecuting, and still wondering why they don't 
 know God, regardless of the only possible way of ever work- 
 ing out from the evils by which they are beset, if we believe 
 that Jesus told the truth, or was correctly reported." He 
 paused and reflected for a moment. Then: 
 
 "The ancient prophet said : 'Ye shall seek me, and find me, 
 when ye shall search for me with all your hearts.' It i« my 
 proposal that we bind ourselves together in such a search. To 
 it we can bring diverse talents. To our vast combined worldly 
 experience, I bring knowledge of the ancient Greek and Latin 
 Fathers, together with Church history. Mr. Hitt brings his 
 command of the Hebrew language and history, and ah intimate 
 acquaintance with the ancient manuscripts, and Biblical inter- 
 pretation, together with a wide knowledge of the physical 
 sciences. Madam Beaubien, Miss Wall, and Mr. Haynerd con- 
 tribute their earnest, searching, inquisitive spirit, and a knowl- 
 edge of the world's needs. Moreover, we all come together 
 without bias or prejudice. And Carmen — she contributes that 
 in which we have all been so woefully lacking, and without 
 which we can never know God, the rarest, deepest spirituality. 
 She is a living proof of her faith. Shall we undertake the 
 search, my friends? It means a study of her thought, and the 
 basis upon which it rests." 
 
 The Beaubien raised her hand to her moist eyes. She was 
 thinking of that worldly coterie which formerly was wont to 
 meet nightly in her magnificent mansion to prey upon their 
 fellows. Oh, how different the spirit of this little gathering! 
 
 "You will meet here, with me," she said in a broken voice. 
 "I ask it." 
 
 There were none there unacquainted with the sorrows of 
 this penitent, broken jvoman. Each rose in turn and clasped 
 
 14 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 her hand. Carmen threw her arms about her neck and kissed 
 her repeatedly. 
 
 "You see," said the Beaubien, smiling up through her tears, 
 "what this child's religion is? Would the swinging of incense 
 burners and the mumbling of priestly formulae enhance it?" 
 
 "Jesus said, 'Having seen me ye have seen God,' " said 
 Father Waite. 
 
 "And I say," replied the Beaubien, "that having seen this 
 child, you have indeed seen Him." 
 
 CHAPTER 2 
 
 "T'M afraid," Haynerd was saying, as he and Father Waite 
 I were wending their way to the Beaubien home a few eve- 
 ning's later, "that this Carmen is the kind of girl you read 
 about in sentimental novels; the kind who are always just 
 ready to step into heaven, but who count for little in the war- 
 fare and struggle of actual mundane existence. You get me? 
 She isn't quite true to life, you know, as a book critic would 
 say of an impossible heroine." 
 
 "You mistake, my friend," replied Father Waite warmly. 
 "She is the very kind we would see oftener, were it not for the 
 belief that years bring wisdom, and so, as a consequence, the 
 little child is crushed beneath a load of false beliefs and human 
 laws that make it reflect its mortal parents, rather than its 
 heavenly one." 
 
 "But I'd like to see her under stress — " 
 
 "Under stress! Good heavens, man! You haven't the 
 slightest conception of the stress she's been under most of her 
 life! But your criticism unconsciously pays her the highest 
 tribute, for her kind never show by word, deed, or look what 
 they are enduring. That frail-appearing girl has stood up under 
 loads that would have flattened you and me out like gold leaf!" 
 
 "Well, she doesn't look it!" protested Haynerd tenaciously. 
 
 "Of course she doesn't ! Her kind never do ! She's so far 
 and away ahead of mortals like you and me that she doesn't 
 admit the reality and power of evil — and, believe me, she's got 
 her reasons for not admitting it, too! Don't presume to judge 
 her yet. Only try humbly to attain a little of her understand- 
 ing and faith; and try to avoid making yourself ridiculous by 
 criticising what you do not comprehend. That, indeed, has 
 been mankind's age-long blunder— and they have thereby made 
 asses of themselves!" - 
 
 Edward Haynerd, or "Ned," as he was invariably known, 
 
 15 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 prided himself on" being something of a philosopher. And in 
 the name of philosophy he chose to be quixotic. That one who 
 hated ihe dissimulations and shams of our class aristocracy 
 so cordially should have earned his livelihood — and a good 
 one, too — as publisher of the Social Era, a sprightly weekly 
 chronicle of happenings in fashionable society, would have ap- 
 peared anomalous in any but a man gifted in the Greek sophis- 
 tries and their modern innumerable and arid offshoots. Hay- 
 nerd was a laughing Democritus, an easy-going, even-tem- 
 pered fellow, doomed to be loved, and by the same graces 
 thoroughly cheated by the world in general. He had in his 
 rapid career of some thirty-five years dipped deeply into things 
 mundane, and had come to the surface, sputtering and blow- 
 ing, with his face well smeared with mud from the shallow 
 depths. Whereupon he remarked that such an existence was 
 a poor way of serving the Lord, and turned cynic. His wit 
 was his saving grace. It was likewise his capital and stock 
 in trade. By it he won a place for himself in the newspaper 
 world, and later, as a credit asset, had employed it success- 
 fully in negotiating for the Social Era. It taking- over the 
 publication of this sheet he had remarked that life was alto- 
 gether too short to permit of attempting anything worth while; 
 and so he forthwith made no further assaults upon fame — 
 assuming that he had ever done so — ^but settled comfortably 
 down to the enjoyment of his sinecure. He had never married. 
 And as justification for his self-imposed celibacy he pompously 
 quoted Kant : "I am a bachelor, and I could not cease to be a 
 bachelor without a disturbance that would be intolerable to 
 me." Yet he was not a misogynist. He simply shirked re- 
 sponsibility and ease-threatening risk. 
 
 "You see," he remarked, explaining himself later to Car- 
 men, "I'm a pseudo-litterateur — I conduct a 'Who's It?' for 
 the quidnunces of this blase old burg. And I really meet a 
 need by furnishing an easy method of suicide, for my little 
 vanity sheet is a sort of social mirror, that all who look therein 
 may die of laughter. By the way, I had to run those base 
 squibs about you ; but, by George ! I'm going to make a retrac- 
 tion in next Saturday's issue. I'll put a crimp in friend Ames 
 that'll make him squeal. I'll say he has ten wives, and eight 
 of 'em Zulus, at that!" 
 
 "Don't, please!" laughed Carmen. "We have enough to 
 meet, without going out of our way to stir up more. Let it all 
 work out now, as it will, in the right way." 
 
 "In the right way, eh? Is that part of your doctrine? Say, 
 don't you think that in formulating a new religion you're 
 carrying coals to Newcastle? Seems to me we've got enough 
 now, if we'd practice 'em." 
 
 16 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "My religion, Mr. Haynerd, is only the practice of the teach- 
 ings of a Nazarene Jew, named Jesus," she replied gently. 
 
 "Well, my religion is Socialism, I guess," he said lightly. 
 
 "So's mine," she quickly returned. "I'm a thorough So- 
 cialist. So we meet on common ground, don't we?" She held 
 out her hand, and he took it, a puzzled expression coming into 
 his face. 
 
 "Well," he said, glancing about, "we'll have to dispute that 
 later. I see Father Waite is about to open this little religious 
 seminar. But we'll get back to the discussion of myself," he 
 added, his eyes twinkling. "For, like Thoreau, I prefer to 
 discuss that subject, because there's no other about which I 
 know so much." 
 
 "Nor so little," she added, laughing and squeezing his hand 
 as she turned from him. 
 
 The little coterie took their places around the dining room 
 table, which was well strewn with books of reference and 
 writing materials. Father Waite rapped gently for order. A 
 deep, reverent silence fell upon the group. They had begun 
 their search for God. 
 
 "Friends," began Father Waite slowly, "we are inaugurat- 
 ing to-night a mission of the most profound significance. No 
 question so vitally touches the human race as -the one which 
 we shall reverently discuss in this and subsequent meetings. 
 I thought as I came in here to-night of the wisdom of Epictitus, 
 who said, 'What do I want? To acquaint myself with the 
 true order of things and comply with it.' I am sure no state- 
 ment so fully expresses our common desire as that." 
 
 "Just so!" interrupted Haynerd. "If Adam was a Baptist, 
 I want to know and comply with the fact." 
 
 A general laugh followed. Then Father Waite held up a 
 hand and again became serious. 
 
 "Can we treat lightly even the Adam story, when we con- 
 sider how much misery and rancor its literal acceptance has 
 caused among mankind? No. Out of deepest sympathy for 
 a world in search of truth, let us pity theii* stumblings, and 
 take heed that we fall not ourselves." 
 
 He paused. A hush lay upon the room. Carmen's hand 
 stole toward the Beaubien's and clasped it tightly. 
 
 "In these days, as of old, it is still said, 'There is no God!' 
 And yet, though the ignorant and wilful admit it not, man- 
 kind's very existence is a function of their concept of a 
 Creator, a sole cause of all that is. No question, economic, 
 social, political, or other, is so vitally related to humanity as 
 this: 'Is there a God?' And the corollary: 'What is His rela- 
 tion to jne?' For there can be nothing so important as a knowl- 
 
 17 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 edge of truth. Can the existence of a God be demonstrated? 
 Can He be shown to be beneficent, in view of the world's testi- 
 mony? What is our source of truth? If the Bible, then can 
 its authenticity be established? The greatest of our so-called 
 civilizations are known as Christian. But who can say by them 
 what Christianity really is?" 
 
 "I am quite prepared to say what it is not!" again inter- 
 rupted Haynerd. 
 
 "Doubtless," resumed Father Waite. "And so are we all. 
 But at present we are seeking constructive criticism, not solely 
 destructive. There has been quite enough of that sort in the 
 world. But, to go a step further, can we say positively that 
 the truth is to be found even in Christianity?" 
 
 "Please explain your question," said Miss Wall, with a 
 puzzled look. 
 
 "The first essential is always facts," he continued. "The 
 deduction of right conclusions will follow — provided, as Mat- 
 thew Arnold so tersely said, we have sufficient delicacy of per- 
 ception, subtlety, wisdom, and tact. And, I may add, sufficient 
 freedom from prejudice and mental bias^ — ah, there is the 
 stumbling block!" 
 
 "Matthew Arnold," ventured Haynerd, "was dubbed a first- 
 class infidel, as I recall it." 
 
 "Doubtless. As have been many of the world's most earnest 
 searchers. Yet he enunciated much truth, which we to-day are 
 acknowledging. But, to resume, since Christianity as we know 
 it is based upon the personality of a man, Jesus, we ask : Can 
 the historicity of Jesus be established?" 
 
 "What! Do you mean: did he ever live?" queried Miss 
 Wall in greater surprise than before. 
 
 "Yes. And if so, is he correctly reported in what we call 
 the Gospels? Then, did he reveal the truth to his followers? 
 And, lastly, has that truth been correctly transmitted to us?" 
 
 "And," added Hitt, "there is still the question: Assuming 
 that he gave us the truth, can we apply it successfully to the 
 meeting of our daily needs?" 
 
 "The point is well taken," replied Father Waite. "For, 
 though I may know that there are very abstruse mathematical 
 principles, yet I may be utterly unable to demonstrate or use 
 them. But now," he went on, "we are brought to other vital 
 questions concerning us. They are, I think, points to which 
 the theologian has given but scant thought. If we_ conclude 
 that there is a God, we are confronted with the material uni- 
 verse and man. Did He create them? And what are their 
 natures and import?" 
 
 "Well!" ejaculated Haynerd. "Seems to me you've cut out 
 
 18 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 a large assignment for this little party. Those are questions 
 that the world has^ played football with for thousands of years. 
 Do you think we can settle them in a few evenings' study? I 
 think I'll be excused!" 
 
 "No! We can't spare you," laughed Father Waite. Then 
 he glanced at Carmen, who had sat quiet, apparently unhear- 
 ing, during the remarks. "I think you will hear things soon 
 that will set you thinking," he said. "But now we are going to 
 let our traveled friend, Mr. Hitt, give us just a word in summa- 
 tion of his thought regarding the modern world and its attitude 
 toward the questions which we have been propounding." 
 
 The explorer leaned back in his chair and assumed his 
 customary attitude when in deep "thought. All eyes turned 
 upon him in eager expectation, 
 
 "The world," he began reflectively, "presents to me to-day 
 the most interesting aspect it has assumed since history began. 
 True, the age is one of great mental confusion. Quite as true, 
 startling discoveries and astounding -inventions have so upset 
 our staid old mediaeval views that the world is hurriedly 
 crowding them out, together with its God. Doctrines for which 
 our fathers bled and burned are to-day lightly tossed upon the 
 ash heap. The searchlight is turned never so mercilessly upon 
 the founder of the Christian religion, and upon the manu- 
 scripts which relate his words and deeds. Yet most of us 
 have grown so busy — I often wonder with what — that we have 
 no time for that which can not be grasped as we run. We 
 work desperately by day, building up the grandest material 
 fabric the world has ever seen; and at night we repair the 
 machine for the next day's run. Even our college professors 
 bewail the lack of time for solid reading and research. And if 
 our young pursue studies, it is with the almost exclusive 
 thought of education as a means of earning a material liveli- 
 hood later, and, if possible, rearing a mansion and stocking its 
 larder and garage. It is, I repeat, a grandly materialistic age, 
 wherein, to the casual observer, spirituality is at a very low 
 ebb." 
 
 He thrust his long legs under the table and cast his eyes 
 upward to the ceiling as he resumed : 
 
 "The modern world is still in its spiritual infancy, and does 
 not often speak the name of God. Not that we are so much 
 irreverent as that we feel no special need of Him in our daily 
 pursuits. Since we ceased to tremble at the thunders of Sinai, 
 and their lingering echoes in bulls and heresy condemnations, 
 we find that we get along just as well — indeed, much better. 
 And it really is quite bad form now to speak continually of 
 God, or to refer to Him as anything real and yital. To be on 
 
 19 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 such terms of intimacy with Him as this girl Carmen is — in 
 thought, at least — would be regarded to-day as evidence of 
 sentimentalism and weakness." 
 
 He paused again, to marshal his thought and give his audi- 
 tors an opportunity for comment. Then, as the silence re- 
 mained unbroken, he continued: 
 
 "Viewing the world from one standpoint, it has achieved 
 remarkable success in applying the knout to superstition and 
 limitation. But, like a too energetic housekeeper, it has swept 
 out much that is essential with the dibris. When spirituality 
 ceases to be real or vital to a people, then a grave danger 
 threatens them. Materiality has never proved a blessing, as 
 history shows. Life that is made up of strain and ceaseless 
 worry is not life. The incessant accumulation of material 
 wealth, when we do not know how really to enjoy it, is folly. 
 To pamper the flesh, to the complete ignoring of the spirit, is 
 suicide. The increased hankering after physical excitements 
 and animal pleasures, to the utter abandonment of the search 
 for that which is real and satisfying, is an exhibition of gross, 
 mesmeric stupidity, to say the least. It shows that our sense of 
 life is awry." 
 
 "But the world is surely attempting its own betterment," 
 protested Haynerd. 
 
 "I grant you that," replied Hitt. "But legislation and 
 coercion are the wrong means to employ. They restrain, but 
 they do not cure. They are only narcotics." 
 
 "Oh, well, you are not going to change the race until the 
 individual himself changes." 
 
 "Have I disputed that?" said Hitt. "Quite the contrary, 
 that is the pith of my observations. Reform is a hearthside 
 affair. And no sane man will maintain that general reform 
 can ever come until the individual's needs are met — his daily, 
 hourly, worldly needs." 
 
 "I think I get your point," said Father Waite. "It is wholly 
 a qiiestion of man's concept of the cause of things, himself 
 included, and their purpose and end, is it not?" 
 
 "Quite so," replied Hitt. "The restless spirit of the modern 
 world is hourly voicing its discontent with a faltering faith 
 which has no other basis than blind belief. It wants demon- 
 strable fact upon which to build. In plain words, mankind 
 would be better if they but knew how!" 
 
 "Well, we show them how," asserted Haynerd. "But they 
 don't do as we tell 'em." 
 
 "Are you quite sure that you show them how ?'i asked Hitt. 
 "What do you ever do toward showing them how permanently 
 to eradicate a single human difficulty?" 
 
 20 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "Oh, well, putting it that way, nothing, of course." 
 
 "Quite so, my friend. The relief we afford is but temporary. 
 And so the world continues to wait for surcease from woe in 
 a life beyond the grave. But now, returning to our survey, let 
 me say that amid all the folly of vain pursuits, of wars and 
 strife, of doleful living and pitiable dying, there are more en- 
 couraging and hopeful signs hung out to the inquiring thought 
 \o-day than ever before in history. If I misread not, we are 
 already entered upon changes so tremendous that their end 
 must be the revolutionizing of thought and conduct, and hence 
 of life. Our present age is one of great extremes : though we 
 touch the depths, we are aiming likewise at the heights. I 
 doubt if there ever was a time when so many sensed the noth- 
 ingness of the pleasures of the flesh. I doubt if ever there was 
 such a quickening of the business conscience, and such a 
 determined desire to introduce honesty and purity into our 
 dealings with one another. Never was the need of religion 
 more keenly felt by the world than it is to-day; and that is 
 why mankind are willing to accept any religious belief, how- 
 ever eccentric, that comes in the guise of truth and bearing 
 the promise of surcease from sin, sickness, and sorrow here 
 this side of the grave. The world was never so hungry for 
 religious truth; and this fact is a perpetual challenge to the 
 Church. There is a tremendous world-yearning to know and 
 to do better. And what is its cause? I answer, a growing 
 appreciation of the idea that 'the kingdom of harmony is with- 
 in you.' " 
 
 "Jesus said that," murmured Carmen, looking up. 
 
 "He but amplified and gave form to the great fact that there 
 was an influence for better things always existeut in the ancient 
 Jews, that 'something not ourselves,' if you will, 'that makes 
 for righteousness.' And he showed that that influence could 
 be outwardly externalized in freedom from the ills which beset 
 humanity." 
 
 "Very good," put in Haynerd. "And then, what?" 
 
 "That 'something not ourselves' is the germ of the true 
 idea of God," answered Hitt. 
 
 "Which makes God—?" 
 
 "Wholly mental." 
 
 "Spirit?" 
 
 "Mind," offered Carmen. 
 
 "The terms are synonymous," said Hitt. "And now let me 
 conclude with a final observation. Mankind's beliefs are in a 
 whirl. Ecclesiasticism is dying. Orthodoxy and conservatism 
 are hanging desperately to the world's flying skirts, but they 
 will eventually drop off. No change in thought has been greater 
 
 21 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 than that concerning God. The absentee Lord who started the 
 universe and then withdrew has gone to the scrap heap, with 
 the ridiculous views of predestination and infant damnation. 
 The idea of a God who at divers times interfered with His 
 creation and temporarily set aside His own laws to convince 
 puny man of His greatness, is likewise obsolescent. The world 
 is slowly growing into a conception of a creator, of some kind, 
 but at least mental, and universally present. Nay, more, avail- 
 able for all our problems and needs. And the end will be the 
 adoption of that conception, enlarged and purified still further, 
 and taken into the minutest affairs of our daily life — as this 
 girl has done. The day of patient suffering in this world, under 
 the spell of a promise of compensating reward in the heavenly 
 future, has all but passed. We are gradually becoming con- 
 scious of the stupendous fact that the kingdom of all harmony, 
 immortality, and good, is right here within us — and therefore 
 can be naught but a consciousness of absolute good, perfectly 
 attainable by humanity as the 'old man' of Paul is laid off, 
 but not gained, necessarily, through what we call death." 
 
 The silence which followed was broken at length by Miss 
 Wall. "And what constitutes the 'old man'?" she asked. 
 
 "Largely, I think," said Hitt, "the belief that matter is 
 real." 
 
 "What?" exclaimed Haynerd, almost rising from his chair. 
 "Matter, real?" 
 
 Hitt laughed. "I stand on my statement," he replied. 
 
 Father Waite rose slowly, as if lost in thought. "History 
 shows," he said, meditatively, "that man's progress has been 
 proportionate to his freedom from the limitation of ignorance 
 and undemonstrable belief. And that freedom has come as 
 man's concept of God has grown less and less material, and 
 more and more spiritual. From the animal nature of the 
 savage, to whom all is matter, down — or up — to the man of 
 to-day, to whom mind is assuming ever greater ascendency, 
 man's progress has been marked by a throwing off of limiting 
 beliefs, theological or other, in material power and substance. 
 The development of the least material forces, steam, electricity, 
 the X-ray, has come only as the human mind has thrown off 
 a portion of its hampering material beliefs. I am astounded 
 when I think of it, and of its marvelous message to future 
 generations! For, from the premise that the creator of all 
 things is spirit, or mind, as you will, comes the corollary that 
 the creation itself must of necessity be mental. And from this 
 come such deductions as fairly make me tremble. Carmen has 
 told me of the deductions which her tutor, the priest Jos6, drew 
 from the single premise that the universe is infinite in extent 
 — a premise which I think we all will accept." 
 
 22 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "There can be no question about it," said Hitt, nodding his 
 head. 
 
 "Well," continued Father Waite, "that granted, we must 
 likewise grant its creator to be infinite, must we not?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "And that puts the creator out of the matter-class entirely. 
 The creator must be — " 
 
 "Mind," said Carmen, supplying the thought ever-present 
 with her. 
 
 "I see no other conclusion," said Father Waite. "But, that 
 granted, a flood of deductions pours in that sends human beliefs 
 and reasoning helter-skelter. For an infinite mind would 
 eventually disintegrate if it were not perfect in every part." 
 
 "Perhaps it is already disintegrating, and that's what causes 
 the evil in the world," hazarded Haynerd. 
 
 "Utterly untenable, my friend," put in Hitt. "For, granted 
 an infinite mind, we must grant the concomitant fact that such 
 a mind is of very necessity omnipotent, as well as perfect. 
 What, then, could ever cause disintegration in it?" 
 
 "You are right," resumed Father Waite. "And such a 
 mind, of very necessity perfect, omnipotent, and, of course, 
 ever-present, must likewise be eternal. For there would be 
 nothing to contest its existence. Age, decay, and death would 
 be unknown to it. And so would evil." 
 
 "And that," said Carmen, rising, "is my God." 
 
 Father Waite nodded significantly to the others, and sat 
 down, leaving the girl facing them, her luminous eyes looking 
 off into unfathomed distances, and her face aglow with spiritual 
 light. 
 
 "My God is infinite Good, to whom evil is unknown," she 
 said. "And good includes all that is real. It includes wisdom, 
 intelligence, truth, life, and love — none of them material. How 
 do I know? Oh, not by human reasoning, whereby you seek 
 to establish the fact of His existence, but by proof, daily proof, 
 and in the hours when the floods of suppositional evil have 
 swept over me. ¥ou would rest your faith on your deductions. 
 But, as Saint Gregory said, no merit lies in faith where human 
 reason supplies the proof; and that you will all some day 
 know. Yes, my God is Mind. And He ceaselessly expresses 
 Himself in and through His ideas, which He is constantly re- 
 vealing. And He is infinite in good. And these ideas express 
 that goodness and infinitude, from the tiniest up to the idea of 
 God himself. And that grandest idea is — man. Oh, no, not 
 the men and women you think you see about you in your 
 daily walk. No! no! They but counterfeit the divine. But the 
 man that Jesus always saw back of every human concept. 
 
 23 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 That man is God's own idea of Himself. He is God's image 
 and likeness. He is God's reflection. That is the man we shall 
 all put on when we have obeyed Paul and put off the old man, 
 its counterfeit." , 
 
 "Then, Carmen," said Father Waite, "you believe all things 
 to be mental?" 
 
 "Yes, everything — man himself — and matter," 
 
 "But, if God is mind, and infinite, He- must include all 
 things. Hence He must include this imperfect representation, 
 called the physical man. Is it not so?" ' 
 
 "No," returned the girl emphatically. "Did not Jesus speak 
 often of the one lie about his Father, God? The material man 
 and the material universe are but parts of that lie. And a lie 
 is always a supposition ; not real. All evil is contained in that 
 supposition — a supposition that there is power and life and 
 substance apart from God." 
 
 "But who made the supposition?" queried Haynerd. 
 
 "A supposition is not made," replied Carmen quietly. "Its 
 existence is suppositional." 
 
 "I don't quite get that," interposed Miss Wall, her brows 
 knitting. 
 
 Carmen smiled down at the inquiring woman. "Listen," 
 she said. "The creator of all things is mind. You admit that. 
 But you would have that mind the creator of evil, also. Yet, 
 your own reasoning has shown that, on the premise of inind 
 as infinite, such mind must be forever whole, harmonious, 
 perfect. The thoughts and ideas by which that mind expresses 
 itself must be likewise pure and perfect. Then that creative 
 mind can not create evil. For, a mind that creates evil must 
 itself be evil. And, being infinite, such a mind must include 
 the evil it creates. We would have, then, either a mind wholly 
 evil, or one of mixed evil and good. In either case, that mind 
 must then destroy itself. Am I not right?" 
 
 "Your reasoning is, certainly," admitted Miss Wall. "But, 
 how to account for evil, when God is infinite good — " 
 
 "To account for it at all," replied Carmen, "would be to 
 make it something real. Jesus would account for it only by 
 classing it as a lie about God. Now God, as the creative mind, 
 must likewise be truth, since He is perfection and harmony. 
 Very well, a lie is always the opposite of truth. Evil is the 
 direct opposite of good." 
 
 "Yes," said Father Waite, nodding his head as certain 
 bright memories returned to him. "That is what you told me 
 that day when I first talked with you. And it started a new line 
 of thought." 
 
 "Is it strange that God should have a suppositional oppo- 
 
 24 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 site?" asked Carmen. "Has not everything with which you are 
 concerned a suppositional opposite? God is truth. His sup- 
 positional opposite is the great lie of evil. God is good. Hence 
 the same opposite. God is spirit. The suppositional opposite 
 is matter. And matter is just as mental as the thoughts which 
 you are now holding. God is real. Good is real. And so, evil 
 and the lie are unreal." 
 
 "The distinction seems to me theoretical," protested Miss 
 Wall. 
 
 Hitt then took the floor. "That word 'real,' " he said, "i3 
 perhaps what is causing your confusion. The real is that 
 which, according to Spencer, does not pass away. We used to 
 believe matter indestructible, forever permanent. We learn 
 that our views regarding it were very incorrect. Matter is quite 
 destructible." 
 
 "And yet," said Father Waite, "in this universe of constant 
 change, something endures. What is it but the mind that is 
 God, expressing itself in such immaterial and permanent 
 things as law, love, life, power?" 
 
 "Exactly," replied Hitt. "But now we have been brought 
 back again to the question of matter. If we can" prove that 
 matter is mental, and not real substance, we will have estab- 
 lished Carmen's premise that everything is mental. Then 
 there remains but the distinction between the mind that is 
 God, and its suppositional opposite, as expressed in human 
 existence. Let us conclude, therefore, that to-night we have 
 established, at least as a working hypothesis^ that, since a 
 thing existing implies a creator; and since the existent uni- 
 verse, being infinite, demands an infinite creator; and since a 
 creator can not be infinite without being at once mind, perfect, 
 eternal, omnipotent, omniactive, and good, we are fully justi- 
 fied in assuming that the creator of all things still exists, and 
 is infinite, ever-present mind. Further than that we are not 
 prepared to go, until we have discussed the questions of matter 
 and the physical universe and man. Let us leave those topics 
 for a subseqlient meeting. And now I suggest that we unite 
 in asking Carmen to sing for us, to crown the unity that has 
 marked this discussion with the harmony of her own beautiful 
 voice." 
 
 A few moments later, about the small upright piano which 
 the Beaubien had rented for Carmen, the little group sat in 
 reverent silence, while the young girl sent out through the 
 little room the harmonious expression of her own inner life, 
 the life that had never left heaven for earth. 
 
 25 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 3 
 
 WITH her exit from the beau monde and her entrance 
 upon the broad stage of University life, Carmen seemed 
 to have awakened from the lethargy which her abrupt 
 transition from mediaeval Simiti into the modern world had 
 occasioned. The static struggle to hold her own against the 
 rushing currents of materiialism had turned at length in her 
 favor. Her lamp had been kept alight. The lethal influences 
 which rose about her like stupifying fumes in the courts of 
 fashion had been lifted and swept away by the fresher and 
 more invigorating breezes into which her bark had now been 
 drawn. 
 
 She plunged into her new work joyously; yet not without 
 a deeper comprehension of its meaning than that of her fellow- 
 students. She knew that the University was but another step- 
 ping-stone, even as her social life had been; another series of 
 calls and opportunities to "prove" her God to be immanent 
 good. And' she thankfully accepted its offerings. For she was 
 keenly alive to the materialistic leadings of the "higher educa- 
 tion," and she would stand as a living protest against them. 
 
 It had not taken her long to discover the impotence lying 
 at the heart of so-called modern education. She had not been 
 slow to mark the disappointment written upon the faces of 
 many of her fellow-students, who had sought in vain a great 
 awakening light in those sacred precincts of learning, but, their 
 confidence betrayed, were now floundering in the devouring 
 morass of materialism. To her keen insight the University 
 stood revealed as the great panderer to this latest century's 
 obsessing idea that the true function of education is expressed 
 in the imparting of changing, human information and a train- 
 ing for the business of earning one's daily bread according to 
 the infamous code of the world's carnal social system. The 
 University did not meet the most urgent need of the race by 
 equipping men to stand against the great crises of human 
 experience. It did not teach men to lay aside the counterfeit 
 nian of material sense; but rather emphasized the world's be- 
 lief in the reality of this man by minutely detailed courses in 
 his mundane history and the manifestations of his pitiable 
 ignorance in his wanton crimes and watery ambitions. To 
 Carmen, God was the most insistent fact of creation. And 
 mankind's existence could find its only justification in cease- 
 less, consecrated manifestation of His harmonious activity. 
 True, the University vaguely recognized God as infinitely com- 
 
 26 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 petent. But in the same breath it confessed its utter igno- 
 rance of a demonstrable knowledge of Him, to know whom 
 alone is life. True, these men of worldly learning prayed. But 
 their hollow prayers bore no hope, for they knew not how to 
 gain answers to them. 
 
 And yet the girl remained in her new environment, awaiting 
 the call to "come up higher." And meantime she strove to gain 
 daily a wider knowledge of the Christ-principle, and its ap- 
 plication to the needs and problems of her fellow-men. Her 
 business was the reflection of her Father's business. Other 
 ambition she had none. The weak, transient, flighty, so-called 
 intellectual life which she saw about her sent no call across 
 the calm currents of her thought. Her education was religious 
 in the strictest, deepest sense, for she was learning to know 
 God. 
 
 Though the girl pursued her way quietly, unwilling that 
 the notoriety which had been fastened upon her should mark 
 her as an object of curiosity, yet her story soon spread among 
 University circles, and the first semester was a scant two weeks 
 old before her name had been debated in the numerous Sorori- 
 ties and Wowien's Clubs, and quietly dropped. Negro blood 
 coursed in her veins; and the stigma of parental disgrace lay 
 dark upon her. She lived with a woman of blackened reputa- 
 tion — a reputation which waxed no brighter under the casual, 
 malicious comments of J. Wilton Ames, whose great financial 
 strength had made him a Trustee of this institution of learn- 
 ing. If Carmen divined the comment that was passed con- 
 cerning herself, she gave no indication. But Hitt and Father 
 Waite knew that the girl had not found favor in the social and 
 fraternal organizations of her mates; and they knew why. 
 
 "A curse upon such little minds!" mused Hitt, when he 
 could no longer restrain himself. Then he called a student to 
 his desk one day, at the conclusion of his lecture. 
 
 "Miss West," he said, "you are leader in the most promi- 
 nent Sorority in the University. I want you to give Miss Car- 
 men Ariza a bid." 
 
 The girl shook her head. "She is not desirable." 
 
 "But the charges against her are unfounded! They are 
 flagrantly false!" stormed Hitt. 
 
 "Have you proof. Professor?" the girl asked, as she arched 
 her brows. 
 
 "None definite. But — ^well, what if she were a negress? 
 Hers is the most brilliant mind in the entire student-body!" 
 
 But, no. Race segregation is a divine tenet, scripturally 
 justified. What though the girl's skin vied with the lilies 
 and rosebuds? What though her hair was the brown of ripe 
 
 27 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 fields? Had not God Almighty decreed that the negro should 
 remain a drawer of water? A hewer of wood? Had the Lord 
 designed him the equal of the noble white, He would have 
 bleached his face, and bridged his flat nose. Miss West was a 
 Southerner. And the reference to her dark-skinned sisters 
 caused a little moue of disgust, as she flatly declined to con- 
 sider Carmen an eligible candidate for membership in her 
 Society. 
 
 "Lord above!" ejaculated Hift, who had been brooding over 
 the incident as he walked home with Father Waite. "That 
 toadying, sycophantic, wealth-worshiping Miss West can see 
 no farther than the epidermis! If we could have maintained 
 Carmen's reputation as an Inca princess, this same girl would 
 have fawned at her feet, and begged to kiss the edge of her 
 robe! And she would have used every art, of cajolery to in- 
 gratiate herself into Carmen's favor, to catch the social crumbs 
 that our girl might chance to drop!" 
 
 "There, there, Hitt," soothed Father Waite. "Have you any 
 idea that Carmen is at all injured by Miss West's supercilious 
 conduct?" 
 
 "Not in the leaist!" asseverated Hitt vigorously. "But it 
 makes me so — !" 
 
 "There, check that! You're forgetting the girl's influence, 
 aren't yoU?" 
 
 Hitt gulped his wrath down his long throat. "Waite," he 
 blurted, "that girl's an angd! She isn't real!" 
 
 "Oh, yes, she is!" replied Father Waite. "She's so real that 
 we don't understand her — so real that she has been totally 
 misunderstood by the petty minds that have sought to crush 
 her here in New York, that's all." 
 
 "But certainly she is unique — " 
 
 "Ah, yes; unique in that she goes about putting her arms 
 around people and telling them that she loves them. Yes, that 
 certainly is unique! And she is unique in that her purity and 
 goodness hang about her like an exquisite aura, and make peo- 
 ple instinctively turn and look after her as she passes. Unique 
 in that in her sweet presence one seems to hear a strain of 
 heavenly music vibrating on the air. So unique that the dawn, 
 the nesting birds, the wild flowers, the daily sunset, fairly 
 intoxicate her with ecstasy and make her life a lyric." 
 
 Hitt essayed to reply; but the words hung in his throat. 
 
 "Yes," continued Father Waite, "she is so unique that when 
 the empty-headed, vain young Duke of Altern, learning that 
 she had been thrown out of society because of the base rumor 
 regarding her parentage, sent her a written statement to the 
 effect that there was no engagement between them, and de- 
 
 28 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 manded that she sign it, she did so, with a happy smile, with 
 an invocation, with a prayer for blessing upon those who had 
 tried to ruin her." 
 
 "Good God! Did she do that?" 
 
 "Aye, she did. And when Mrs. Hawley-Crowles and Ames 
 and Laf elle filched La Libertad from her, she would have 
 given them the clothes on her back* with it, if they had de- 
 manded them. Yes, she's unique — so unique that again and 
 again I hear her murmur, as she looks off absently into space: 
 'If it is right that he should have a son, then I want it to 
 be so.' '■' 
 
 "Referring to — that priest — Jose de Rincon?" 
 
 "Yes, doubtless. And time and again I have heard her say: 
 'God is light. Sight depends upon light. Therefore Anita's 
 babe sees.' Old Rosendo's grandson, you know." 
 
 Hitt nodded. "Waite," he said earnestly, "she is simply 
 illustrating what would happen to any of us if we threw our- 
 selves wholly upon God's protecting care, and took our thoughts 
 only from Him. That's why she can lose her home, her family, 
 her reputation, that mine^-everything— and still stand. She 
 does what we don't dare to do!" ■-. 
 
 "She is a living illustration," replied Father Waite, "of the 
 mighty fact that there is nothing so practical as real Chris- 
 tianity. I want you to tell Professor Cane that. He calls her 
 'the girl with the Utopian views,' because of her ingenuous 
 replies in his sociological class. But I want you to show him 
 that she is very far from being impractical." 
 
 "I'll do it," said Hitt emphatically. "I'll prove to Cane that 
 her religion is not a visionary scheme for regulating a world 
 inhabited only by perfect beings, but is a working principle for 
 the every-day sinner to use in the solution of his daily prob- 
 lems. Moreover, Waite, she is a vivid illustration of the fact, 
 that when the individual improves, the nation does likewise. 
 Do you get me?" 
 
 "I not only get you, but I stand as a proof of your state- 
 ment," returned Father Waite gently. 
 
 Carmen, her thoughts above, though her feet trod the earth, 
 came and went, glad and happy. The change in her mode of 
 living from the siipreme luxury of the Hawley-Crowles man- 
 sion to the common comforts of the home where now she dwelt 
 so simply with the Beaubien, seemed not to have caused even 
 a ripple in the full current of her joy. Her life was a 
 symphony of thanksgiving; an antiphony, in which all Nature 
 voiced its responses to her in a diapason, full, rich, and harmo- 
 nious. Often that autumn she might have been seen standing 
 among the tinted leaves on the college campus, and drinking in 
 
 29 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 their silent message. And then she might have been heard to 
 exclaim, as she turned her rapt gaze beyond the venerable, vine- 
 clad buildings: "Oh, I feel as if I just couldn't stand it, all this 
 wealth of beauty, of love, of boundless good!" And yet she was 
 alone, always alone. For her dark story had reared a hedge 
 about her; the taboo rested upon her; and even in the crowded 
 classrooms the schoolmates of her own sex looked askance 
 and drew their skirts about them. 
 
 But if the students avoided her, the faculty did not. And 
 those like Professor Cane, who had the opportunity and the 
 ability to peer into the depths of the girl's soul, took an imme- 
 diate and increasing interest in her. Often her own naive 
 manners broke down the bars of convention, and brought her 
 enduring friendships among the men of learning. This was 
 especially the case with Doctor Morton, Dean of the School of 
 Surgery. Yielding to a harmless impulse of curiosity, the girl 
 one afternoon had set out on a trip of exploration, and had 
 chosen the Anatomy building to begin with. Many odd sights 
 greeted her eager gaze as she peered into classrooms and ex- 
 hibit cases; but she met with no one until she chanced to open 
 the door of Doctor Morton's private laboratory, and found that 
 eminent man bending over a human brain, which he was dis- 
 secting. 
 
 Carmen stopped, and stood hesitant. The doctor looked up, 
 surprise written large upon his features as he noted his fair 
 caller. "Well!" he said, laying down his work. 
 
 "Well!" returned Carmen. "That sounds like the Indian 
 'How?' doesn't it?" Then both laughed. 
 
 "You^are — Doctor Morton?" queried the girl, twisting 
 around and looking at the name on the door to make certain. 
 
 "Yes," replied the genial doctor, with growing interest. He 
 was a gray-haired, elderly man, slightly inclined to embonpoint, 
 and with keen, twinkling eyes. "Will you come in?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed," returned the girl; "I'd love to. I am Carmen 
 Ariza." 
 
 "Ah, yes. The young South American — ^lady. I have heard 
 of you." 
 
 "Most everybody seems to have heard of me," sighed the 
 girl. "Well, it doesn't make any difference about my coming in 
 here, does it?" She looked up at him so wistfully that he felt 
 a great tug at his heartstrings. 
 
 "Not a bit!" he replied cordially. "You're as welcome as the 
 April sun." 
 
 She seized his hand and pressed it. "Now tell me," she said 
 eagerly, looking about. "What are you doing? What's that 
 thing?" 
 
 30 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "That," said he, taking up the pulpy gray object, "is the 
 brain of my erstwhile friend and collaborator. Doctor Bolton. 
 He willed it to the University." 
 
 "Alas, poor Yorick!" murmured Carmen, a facetious twinkle 
 coming into her eyes as she looked at it. "And why are you 
 cutting it up?" 
 
 "In the interests of science," returned the man, studying 
 her. "That we may increase our knowledge of this marvelous 
 mechanism of thought, and the laws by which it operates in 
 mental processes." 
 
 "Then you still blindly seek the living among the dead, 
 don't you?" she murmured. "You think that this poor thing 
 held life, and you search now among' its ashes for the living 
 principle. But, God is life; and 'Canst thou by searching find 
 out God?' " 
 
 The man regarded her intently without replying. She bent 
 for a while over the half-dissected brain in deep thought. Then 
 she looked up. 
 
 "Doctor," she said, "life is not structural. God is life; and 
 to know Him is to reflect life. Reflecting Him, we are immortal. 
 Doctor, don't you think it is about time to do away with this 
 business of dying?" 
 
 The man of science started visibly, and his eyes opened 
 wider. The abrupt question quite swept him off his feet. 
 
 "You didn't really expect to find anything in this brain, did 
 you?" she went on. "The brain is composed of — ^what?" 
 
 "Why, mostly water, with a few commonplace salts," he 
 answered,^ wondering what the next question would be. 
 
 "And can a compound of water and a few commonplace 
 salts think?" she asked, looking intently at him. 
 
 "N — no," he answered tentatively. 
 
 "The brain is not the cause of thought, then, but an effect, 
 is it not?" she pursued. 
 
 "Why, really, my dear Miss Carmen, we don't know. We 
 call it the organ of thought, because in some way thought 
 seems tci be associated with it, rather than with — ^well, with 
 the liver, or muscles, for example. And we learn that certain 
 classes of mental disturbances are intimately associated with 
 lesions or clots in the brain. That's about all." 
 
 The girl reflected for a few moments. Then: 
 
 "Doctor, you wouldn't cut up a machine to discover the 
 motive power, would you? But that is just what you are 
 doing there with that brain. You are hoping by dissecting it 
 to find the power that made it go, aren't you? And the power 
 that made it go was mind — life." 
 
 "But the life is not in the brain now," hazarded the doctor. 
 
 31 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "An4 never was," returned Carmen promptly. "You see," 
 she went on, "if the brain was ever alive, it could never cease 
 to be so. If it ever lived, it could never die. That brain never 
 manifested real life. It manifested only a false sense of life. 
 And that false sense died. Who or what says that the man 
 who owned that brain is dead? Why, the human mind — 
 human belief. It is the human mind, expressing its belief in 
 death, and in a real opposite to life, or God. Don't you see?" 
 
 "H'm!" The doctor regarded the girl queerly. She rer 
 turned his look with a confident smile. 
 
 "You believe in evolution, don't you?" she at length con- 
 tinued. 
 
 "Oh, surely," he replied unhesitatingly. "There is over- 
 whelming evidence of iL" 
 
 "Well, then, in the process of evolution, which was evolved 
 first, the brain, or the mind which operates it and through 
 it?" she asked. 
 
 "Why," he replied meditatively, "it is quite likely that they 
 evolved simultaneously, the brain being the mind's organ of 
 expression," 
 
 "But don't you see. Doctor, that you are now making the 
 mind really come first? For that which expresses a thing is 
 always secondary to the thing expressed." 
 
 "Well, perhaps so," he said. "At any rate, it is quite im- 
 material to a practical knowledge of how to meet the brain's 
 ills. I am a practical man, you know." 
 
 "I'm sorry to hear that," she said simply. "Practical men 
 are so stupid and ignorant." 
 
 "Well, I declare!" he exclaimed; putting his hands on his 
 hips and staring down at the smiling face. 
 
 "And you are so nice and friendly, I wouldn't want to think 
 you stupid and ignorant," she went on blandly. 
 
 "H'm! Well, that kind o' takes the edge off your former 
 classification of me," he said, greatly amused, yet wondering 
 just what appraisal to place upon this frank girl. 
 
 "And evolution," she continued, "is an unfolding, isn't it? 
 You see, the great fact of creation is the creator, infinite mind. 
 Well, that mind expresses itself in its ideas. And these it is 
 unfolding all the time. Now a fact always gives rise to a sup- 
 positional opposite. The opposite of a fact is an error. And 
 that is why error has been called 'negative truth.' Of course, 
 there isn't any such thing as negative truth! And so all error 
 is simply falsity, supposition, without real existence. Do you 
 see?" 
 
 He did not reply. But she went on unperturbed. "Now, the 
 human, or carnal, mind is the negative truth of the real mind, 
 
 32 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 God. It is infinite mind's suppositional opposite. And it imi- 
 tates the infinite mind, but in a very stupid, blundering way. 
 And so the whole physical universe manifests evolution, .too-^ 
 an unfolding, or revealing, of material types, or mental con- 
 cepts. And all these manifest the human mind's sense of life, 
 and its equally strong sense of death. The universe, animals, 
 men, are all human types, evolved, or unfolded, or revealed, in 
 the human mind. And all are the human mind's interpreta- 
 tions of infinite mind's real and eternal and perfect ideas. 
 You see that, don't you? 
 
 "You know," she laughed, "speaking of "negative truth', 
 the first chapter of Genesis sets forth positive truth, and the 
 second chapter sets forth its opposite, negative truth. It is 
 very odd, isn't it? But there it is for everybody to read. And 
 the human mind, of course, true to its beliefs, clings to the 
 second chapter as the reality. Isn't it strange?" 
 
 Meantime, Carmen's attention had been attracted to a large 
 microscope that stood on the table near her. Going to it, she 
 peeped curiously down into the tube. "Well, what have you 
 here?" she inquired. 
 
 "Germs," he said mechanically. 
 
 "Germs! What funny, twisted things! Well," she sud- 
 denly asked, "have you got the fear germ here?" 
 
 He broke into a laugh. But when the girl looked up, her 
 face was quite serious. 
 
 "You do not know it. Doctor, for you are a practical man, 
 but you haven't anything but fear germs under this glass," she 
 said in a low voice. 
 
 "Why, those are germs of typhoid and tuberculosis!" he 
 cxciEHincd 
 
 "And manifestations, externalizations, of the fear germ 
 itself, which is mental," she added. "These things don't cause 
 disease," she went on, pointing to the slide. "But the thoughts 
 which they manifest do. Do you scientists know why people 
 die. Doctor?" 
 
 "No," he admitted seriously. "We really do not know why 
 
 people die." . , ,, , 
 
 "Then I'll tell you," she said. "It's because they don't know 
 enough to live. This poor Doctor Bolton died because he didn't 
 know that God was life. He committed sickness, and then paid 
 the penalty, death. He sinned by believing that there were 
 other powers than God, by believing that life and thought were 
 in matter. And so he paid the wages of sin, death. He simply 
 missed the mark, that's all." 
 
 She turned and perched herself upon the table. You 
 haven't asked me to sit down," she commented brightly. But, 
 if you don't mind, I will." 
 
 .33 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "I — I beg your pardon!" the doctor exclaimed, coloring, 
 and hastily setting out a chair. "I really was so interested in 
 ■what, you were saying that I forgot my manners." 
 
 "No," she said, shaking her head as she declined the prof- 
 fered chair, "I'll sit here, so's I can look straight into your 
 eyes. You go ahead and cut up poor Yorick, and I'll talk." 
 
 The doctor laughed again. "You are much more interest- 
 ing," he returned, "than poor Bolton, dead or alive. In fact, 
 he really was quite a bore. But you are like a sparkling moun- 
 tain rill, even if you do give me a severe classification." 
 
 "Well," she replied, "then you are honestly more interested 
 in life than in death, are you?" 
 
 "Why, most assuredly!" he said. 
 
 "So am I, much I Death is such a mistake; and I haven't 
 a bit of use for it," she continued. "It's like making mistakes 
 in- music, or mathematics. Now when we make mistakes in 
 those, we never stop to discuss them. We correct them. But, 
 dear me ! The. world has nearly talked its poor old head off 
 about the mistakes of sickness and death. It never seems to 
 occur to the world that Jesus always associated sickness with 
 sin. You know, the Rabbis of his day seem to have hit upon 
 a great truth, although they didn't make it really practical. 
 They maintained that a sick man could not be healed of his 
 diseases until all his sins had been forgiven. And so they 
 attempted to forgive sins and make men clean by their elabo- 
 rate ceremonies. But they missed the mark, too. And nobody 
 got to the root of the difficulty until Jesus came. He forgave 
 sin by destroying it completely. And that cured the disease 
 that was the manifestation of sin. Now I ask, why do you, 
 nearly two thousand years after his time, still do as the old 
 Rabbis did, and continue to treat the body — the effect — instead 
 of the mental cause? But," looking down in meditation, "I 
 suppose if you did that the people would cry, 'He hath a devil !* 
 They thought I was a witch in Simiti." 
 
 "H'm!" returned the doctor. "Then you do not believe that 
 disease is caused by microbes, I take it?" 
 
 "Disease caused by microbes? Yes, so it is. And the mi- 
 crobe? It is a manifestation of the human mind again. And, 
 as with typhoid fever, diphtheria, and other diseases, the human 
 mind applies its own cherished, ignorant beliefs in certain meth- 
 ods, and then renders innocuous its own manifestations, mi- 
 crobes. The human mind makes its own diseases, and then 
 in some cases removes the disease, but still by human, material 
 methods. Its reliefs are only temporary. At last it yields itself 
 to its false beliefs, .and then goes out in what it calls death. 
 It is all a mental process — all human thought and its various 
 
 34 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 manifestations. Now why not get beyond microbes and reach 
 the cause, even of them, the human mind itself? Jesus did. 
 Paul did. Others have done so. Why do not you men of 
 science do likewise?" 
 
 Doctor Morton himself took the chair which he had set out 
 for the girl. "What you say," he replied slowly, "is not new 
 to me. But I can only answer that the world is not ready yet 
 for the great change which you suggest." 
 
 "Oh!" she exclaimed. "What cant! What mesmerism you 
 are laboring under! Was the world ready for Jesus?" 
 
 "No. He came too soon. Events show that." 
 
 "Well, then, would he be accepted to-day, if he had not 
 come before?" 
 
 "I can not say. But — I think he would not." 
 
 "And I quite agree with you," she said firmly. "Now the 
 world has doctored for more than four thousand years, despite 
 the fact that health is not sold in bottle or pill form. Doctor, 
 what does the history of all these centuries of drugging show 
 you?" 
 
 He hesitated. Carmen waited a moment; then continued: 
 
 "Don't they demonstrate the absolute inability of medicines 
 to cure disease?" she asked. "Any more than putting men in 
 prison cures crime?" she added as an afterthought. 
 
 "They at least prove that medication has not permanently 
 removed disease," he ventured, not wishing to go too far. 
 
 "Doctor," she said earnestly, "that man Jesus, who, ac- 
 cording to you, came too soon, said : 'Without me ye can do 
 nothing.' Well, didn't he come very, very close to the truth 
 when he made that statement? He did not say that without 
 drugs or material remedies we could do nothing, but that with- 
 out the Christ-principle mankind would continue, as before, to 
 miss the mark. He showed that disease and discord result 
 from sin. Sin is lack of righteousness, lack of right-thinking 
 about things. It is wrong belief, false thought. Sin is mental. 
 Its effect, disease, is mental — a state of discordant conscious- 
 ness. Can you with drugs change a state of mind?" 
 
 "Certainly," he replied quickly. "Whiskey and opium cause 
 changes in one's state of mind." 
 
 "No," she answered. "But the human belief of power in- 
 herent in whiskey and opium, or of the human body's reaction 
 to them, causes a change in the human thought-activity that is 
 called consciousness. The state of human consciousness 
 changes with the belief, but not the real state of mind. Can 
 you not see that? And Doctor Bolton — " 
 
 "Bolton was not sick. He died of natural causes, old age, 
 and general breakdown," was the doctor's refuge. 
 
 35 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Carmen laughed and sprang down from the table. "What 
 an obstinately obdurate lot you scientific men are!" she ex- 
 claimed. "Don't you know that you doctors are only a develop- 
 ment of the old 'medicine-man'? Now in the first place, Mr. 
 Bolton isn't dead; and, in the second, there are no natural 
 causes of death. Old age? Why, that's gone out of fashion, 
 long since." 
 
 "You deny senile changes — ?" 
 
 "I deny every human error!" she interrupted. 
 
 "Then," with a note of banter in his voice, "I take it that 
 you do not expect to die." 
 
 "I do not!" she. replied emphatically. "I expect good,, noth- 
 ing but good, ever! Don't you know that physiologists them- 
 selves admit that the human body is composed of eighty-flve 
 per cent water and fifteen per cent ordinary salts? Can such 
 a combination have intelligence and sensation? D.o you still 
 believe that life is dependent upon lungs, stomach, or liver? 
 Why, the so-called Junit cell' breathes, digests, and manifests 
 life-functions, and yet it has no lungs, no mouth, no stomach, 
 no organs. It is the human mind, assuming knowledge and 
 power which it does not possess, that says the sense of life 
 shall depend upon such organs in the one case and not in the 
 other. And the human mind could be utterly refuted if men 
 would only learn to use the Christ-principle. Jesus and Paul 
 used it, and proved material laws to be only false beliefs." 
 
 "Well," he replied meditatively, "if you are correct, then 
 the preachers are way off the track. And I have long since 
 come to the conclusion that — ^Well," changing abruptly back 
 to the previous topic, "so you refute the microbe theory, eh?" 
 
 "I said I did and did not," she laughed. "Listen: fear, 
 worry, hatred, malice, murder, all of which are mental things 
 in themselves, manifest to the human mind as microbes. These 
 are the hurtful microbes, and they produce toxins, which poison 
 the system. What is the cure? Antitoxins? No, indeed! 
 Jesus gave the real and permanent cure. It is the Christ-prin- 
 ciple. Now you can learn that principle, and how to apply it. 
 But if you don't care to, why, then you must go on with your 
 material microbes and poisons, and with your diseases and 
 death, until you are ready to leave them and turn to that which 
 is real. For all human-mind activity and manifestation, 
 whether in microbes, death, or life, is mental, and is but the 
 counterfeit of the real activity of divine mind, God. 
 
 "Do you know," she pursued earnestly, "I heard a lecture 
 the other day in which it was said that life is a sort of fermen- 
 tation in the body. Well, as regards human life, I guess that is 
 so. For the human body is only a manifestation of the human 
 
 36 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 mind; and the human mind surely is in a continuous state of 
 ferment!" 
 
 She paused and laughed. "The lecturer," she continued, 
 "said that the range of life was from ultra-microbe to man, and 
 that Shakespeare began as a single cell. Think of it! The 
 mundane concept of Shakespeare's body may have unfolded 
 from a cell-concept ; but Shakespeare was a manifestation of 
 mind! And that mind was an interpretation, though very im- 
 perfect, of the mind that is God. Why can't you materialists 
 raise your eyes above the dust? Why, you would choke the 
 very avenues of the spirit with mud!" 
 
 "H'm! Well, your education seems to be — " 
 "Yes," she interrupted, "my education is beyond the vaga- 
 ries that are so generally taught in the name of knowledge. 
 Intellectual education is a farce. It does nothing for mankind, 
 except to give them a false culture. Were the so-called great 
 men of the past really educated? Here is an extract which I 
 copied this afternoon from Hawthorne." She opened her note 
 book and read : 
 
 " 'Ah, but there is a half-acknowledged melancholy like, to this 
 ■when we stand in the perfected vigor of our life and feel that Time 
 has now given us all his flowers, and that the next work of his never- 
 idle fingers must be to steal them one by one away.' 
 
 "Now," she asked, "was that man really educated? In 
 current theology, yes. But that theology could not solve his 
 least earthly problem, nor meet his slightest needl Oh, what 
 inexpressibly sad lives so many of your greatest men have lived ! 
 Your Hawthorne, your Longfellow, they yearned for the rest 
 which they were taught was to follow death. They were the 
 victims of false theology. They were mesmerized. If they 
 believed in the Christ — and they thought they did — ^why, then, 
 did they not rise up and do as he bade them do, put death out? 
 He taught no such resignation to human beliefs as they prac- 
 ticed! He showed men how to overcome the world. Why do 
 we not try to overcome it? Has the time not come? Is the 
 world not sui3Bciently weary of dying?" 
 
 He looked at her intently for some moments. She seemed, 
 as she stood there before him, like a thing of gossamer and 
 sunshine that had drifted into his laboratory, despite the closed 
 door. 
 
 "Say," he suddenly exclaimed, as a new thought struck him, 
 "I'd like to have y6u talk with my friend. Reverend Patterson 
 Moore! Pat and I have barked at each other for many years 
 now, and I'm getting tired. I'd like to shift him to a younger 
 and more vigorous opponent. I believe you've been provi- 
 dentially sent to relieve me." 
 
 37 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Well," she acquiesced. "You can tell Professor Hitt, 
 and—" 
 
 "Hitt, eh? You know him?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed! He comes often to our house. He is very 
 much interested in these things that you and I have been talk- 
 ing about to-day. We have regular meetings, with Father 
 Waite, and Mr. Haynerd, and — " 
 
 "Well, no wonder you can argue! You've had practice, it 
 seems. But — suppose I have Hitt bring me to one of your 
 meetings, eh?" 
 
 "Do!" cried the girl. "And bring your Reverend Pat." 
 
 The genial doctor laughed long and incontinently. "I im-i 
 agine Reverend Pat wouldn't thank you for referring to him 
 that way," he said. "He is a very high, Anglican, and his 
 dignity is marvelous — to say nothing of his self-esteem. Well, 
 we'll see, we'll see. But, don't go yet! We're just getting ac- 
 quainted." 
 
 "I must," replied the girl, "I didn't really mean to come 
 in here, you know. But I guess I was led, don't you?" 
 
 And when the door had closed upon her, the doctor sat 
 silently beside the pulseless brain of his deceased comrade 
 and pondered long. 
 
 »*»•»♦ 
 
 When Carmen entered the house, late that afternoon, she 
 found the Beaubien in conversation with Professor Williams, 
 of the University School of Music. That gentleman had learned 
 through Hitt of the girl's unusual Voice, and had dropped in on 
 his way home to ask that he might hear and test it. With 
 only a smile for reply. Carmen tossed her books and hat upon 
 the sofa and went directly to the piano, where she launched 
 into the weird Indian lament which had produced such an 
 astounding effect upon her chance visitors at the Elwin school 
 that day long gone, and which had been running in her thought 
 and seeking expression ever since her conversation with Doctor 
 Morton a short while before. 
 
 For a full half hour she sang, lost in the harmony that 
 poured from her soul. Father Waite entered, and quietly took 
 a seat. She did not see him. Song after song, most of them 
 the characteristic soft melodies of her people, and many her 
 own simple improvisations, issued from the absorbed girl's 
 lips. The Beaubien rose and stole softly from the room. 
 Father Wa,ite sat with his head resting on his hand, striving to 
 interpret the message which welled from the depths of his 
 own being, where hidden, unused chords were vibrating in 
 unison with those of this young girl. 
 
 Then, abruptly, the singing stopped, and Carmen turned and 
 
 38 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 faced her auditors. "There," she said, with a happy sigh, "that 
 just had to come out!" 
 
 Professor Williams rose and took her hand. "Who, may I 
 ask, was your teacher?" he said, in a voice husky with emotion. 
 
 Carmen smiled up at him. "No human teacher," she said 
 gently. 
 
 A look of astonishment came into the man's face. He 
 turned to Father Waite inquiringly. The latter nodded his 
 confirmation of the girl's words. 
 
 "Well!" exclaimed the professor. "I wonder if you realize 
 what you have got. Miss Carmen?" 
 
 "Yes," she replied simply. "It's a beautiful gift, isn't it?" 
 
 "But — I had thought of asking you to let me train you — 
 but — I — I dare not undertake to handle such a voice as yours. 
 May I — may I send Maitre Rossanni to you, the great Italian? 
 Will you sing for him?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," returned the girl; "I'll sing for anybody. The 
 gift isn't mine, you know. It is for all. I'm only the channel." 
 
 When the professor had taken his reluctant departure, the 
 Beaubien returned and handed Carmen a letter. With a cry 
 of joy the girl seized it and tore it open. It was from Colombia, 
 the second one that her beloved Rosendo had succeeded in 
 getting down the river to the distant coast. It had been written 
 three months prioi", and it bore many stains and evidences of 
 the vicissitudes through which it had emerged. Yes, Rosendo 
 and his family were well, though still at Maria Rosa, far up the 
 Boque, with Don Nicolas. The war raged below them, but they 
 were safe. 
 
 "And not a word from Padre Jose, or about him," mur- 
 mured the girl, sinking into a chair and clasping the soiled 
 letter to her breast. 
 
 Father Waite thought of the little newsboy of Cartagena, 
 and his possible share in the cause of Jose's silence. But he 
 made no comment. 
 
 CHAPTER 4 
 
 CARMEN'S first serious test of her knowledge of English 
 composition was made early in the semester, in an essay 
 on town life in Colombia; and so meritorious did her in- 
 structor consider it that he advised her to send it to a prominent 
 literary magazine. The result was that the essay was ac- 
 cepted, and a request made for further contributions. 
 
 The girl bubbled with new-found happiness. Then she 
 wrote another, and still another article on the life and customs 
 
 39 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 of her people. Both were given publication; and with the 
 moi^ey which she received for them she bought a silk dress 
 for Jude, much to that adoring woman's surprise and ve- 
 hement protest. Carmen might have saved the money toward 
 a piano — but, no; that would have been thinking of herself, 
 and was inadmissible. Nor did the Beaubien offer any objec- 
 tion. "Indeed," commented that fond shepherd of this lone 
 lamb, "she would have poured the money out into somebody's 
 open hand anyway, and it might as well be Jude's." 
 
 Then she choked back the tears as she added: "The girl 
 comes home every night with an empty purse, no matter how 
 full it may have been in the morning. What does she do with 
 the money? Follow her some day and see." 
 
 Carmen's slight success in the field of letters still further 
 aroused Haynerd's interest. The peacefully somnolent Social 
 Era, he thought, might awaken to new things under the stimu- 
 lus of such fresh writing as hers. Perhaps life did hold some- 
 thing of real value after all. Would she furnish him with a 
 column or two on the peculiar social aspect of the metropolis? 
 
 She would, and did. And the result was that the staid con- 
 servative sheet was given a smart shaking; and several promi- 
 nent society people sat up and blinli^d. The article was in no 
 way malicious. It was not even condemnatory. It but threw 
 a clear light from a somewhat unusual angle upon certain 
 phases of New York's social life, and uncovered a few of the 
 more subtly hidden springs of its peculiar activity. 
 
 Among those who read her essay in the Social Era was J. 
 Wilton Ames. He first lay back in his chair and laughed 
 uproariously. And then, when his agents discovered for him 
 the identity of the author, he glowered. The Beaubien was 
 still standing between him and this budding genius. And 
 though he might, and would, ultimately ruin the Beaubien 
 financially, yet this girl, despite her social ostracism, bade 
 fair to earn with her facile pen enough to maintain them both 
 in luxury. So he bent anew to his vengeful schemes, for he 
 would make them come to him. As Trustee, he would learn 
 what courses the girl was pursuing in the University — for he 
 had long known that she was in attendance there. Then he 
 would learn who her associates were; what suggestions and 
 advice her instructors gave her; and her plans for the future. 
 And he would trace her sources of income and apply pressure 
 at the most vital point. He had never in his life been success- 
 fully balked. Much less by a woman. 
 
 Then Haynerd came to congratulate Carmen again, and 
 to request that she attend with him the formal opening of the 
 new Ames mansion, the great Fifth Avenue palace, for he 
 
 40 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 wanted her vivid, first-hand impressions for his account of the 
 brilliant afTair in the Social Era, As reporters, he explained, 
 they would of necessity remain in seclusion, and the girl might 
 -disguise to such an extent as to prevent recognition, if she 
 chose. It was business for him, and an opportunity for rich 
 experience for her. And the fearless girl went, because it would 
 help Haynerd, though the Beaubien inwardly trembled. 
 
 Invitation's to the number of three hundred had been issued 
 to the dlite of New York, announcing the formal opening of the 
 newly finished, magnificent Ames dwelling. These invitations 
 were wrought in enamel on cards of pure gold. Each had cost 
 thirty dollars. The mansion itself, twelve millions. A month 
 prior to the opening, the newspapers had printed carefully- 
 worded announcements of the return of Mrs. J. Wilton Ames 
 and her daughter, after a protracted stay at various foreign 
 baths and rest-cures in the hope of restoring the former's im- 
 paired health. But Mrs. Ames now felt that she could no 
 longer deprive society of her needed activities, and so had re- 
 turned to conduct it through what promised to be a season of 
 unusual brilliancy. The papers did not, however, state that 
 J. Wilton had himself recalled her, after quietly destroying 
 his bill of divorce, because he recognized the necessity of main- 
 taining the social side of his complicated existence on a par 
 with his vast business affairs. 
 
 As Carmen and Haynerd approached the huge, white marble 
 structure, cupolaed, gabled, buttressed, and pinnacled, an over- 
 whelming sense of what it stood for suddenly came upon the 
 girl, and she saw revealed in a flash that side of its owner's life 
 which for so many months she had been pondering. The 
 great shadows that seemed to issue from the massive exterior 
 of the building swept out and engulfed her ; and she turned 
 and clasped Haynerd's arm with the feeling that she would 
 suffocate were she to remain longer in them. 
 
 "Perk up, little one," said Haynerd, taking her hand. "We'll 
 go round to the rear entrance, and I will present my business 
 card there. Ames's secretary telephoned me instructions, and 
 I said I was going to bring a lady reporter with me." 
 
 Carmen caught her breath as she passed through the tall, 
 exquisitely wrought iron gateway and along the marble walk 
 which led to the rear. Up the winding steps to the front en- 
 trance, where swung the marvelous bronze doors which had 
 stirred the imaginations of two continents, streamed the fa- 
 vored of the fashionable world. Among them Carmen saw 
 many whom she recognized. The buffoon, Larry Beers, was 
 there, swinging jauntily along with the bejeweled wife of Sam- 
 son, the multimillionaire packer. Kane and his wife, and 
 
 41 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Weston followed. Outside the gates there was incessant chug- 
 ging of automobiles, mingled with the shouted orders of the 
 three policemen detailed to direct the traffic. A pinched, ragged 
 urchin and his tattered little sister crept up and peered wildly 
 through the iron pickets of the fence; but a sharp rap from a 
 policeman's club sent them scattering. Carmen stood for a 
 moment in the shadows and watched the swarm mount the 
 marble steps and enter through those wonderful doors. There 
 were congressmen and senators, magnates and jurists, dis- 
 tillers and preachers. Each one owed his tithe of allegiance to 
 Ames. Some were chained to him hard and fast, nor would 
 break their bonds this side of the grave. Some he owned out- 
 right. There were those who grew white under his most 
 casual glance. There were others who knew that his calloused 
 hand was closing about them, and that when it opened again 
 they would fall to the ground, dry as dust. Others, like moths, 
 not yet singed, were hovering ever closer to the iDright, cruel 
 flame. Reverend Darius Borwell, bowing and smiling, alighted 
 from his parochial car and tripped blithely up the glistening 
 marble steps. Each and all, wrapping the skeleton of grief, 
 greed, shame, or fear beneath swart broadcloth and shimmer- 
 ing silk, floated up those ghostly steps as if drawn by a tre- 
 mendous magnet incarnate in the person of J. Wilton Ames. 
 
 Carmen shuddered and turned away. Did the pale wraith 
 of Mrs. Hawley-Crowles sigh in the wake of that gilded as- 
 sembly? Did the moans of poor, grief-stricken Mrs. Gannette, 
 sitting in her poverty- and sorrow, die into silence against 
 those bronze doors? Was he, the being who dwelt in that 
 marble palace, the hydra-headed embodiment of the carnal. 
 Scriptural, age-old power that opposes God? And could he 
 stand forever? 
 
 Two detectives met them at the rear door. How many 
 others there were scattered through the house itself. Hay- 
 nerd could only guess. But he passed inspection and was ad- 
 mitted with the girl. A butler took immediate charge of them, 
 and led them quickly through a short passage and to an ele- 
 vator, by which they mounted to another floor, where, opening 
 a paneled oak door, the dignified functionary preceded them 
 into a small reception hall, with lavatories at either end. Here 
 he bade them remove their wraps and await his return. 
 
 "Well," commented Haynerd, with a light, nervous laugh, 
 "we've crossed the Rubicon! Now don't miss a thing!" 
 
 A moment later the butler returned with a sharp-eyed 
 young woman, Mrs. Ames's social secretary. 
 
 "You will be very careful in your report," the latter began 
 at once in a business-like manner. "And you will submit the 
 
 42 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 same to me for approval before it is published in your maga- 
 zine. Mr. Ames deems that imperative, since your recent pub- 
 lication of an essay on modern society in this city. I have a 
 list here of the guests, their business and social standing, and 
 other' data. You will run that in full. You will say that this 
 is the most brilliant assemblage ever gathered under one roof 
 in New York. The wealth represented here to-night will total 
 not less than three billion dollars. The jewels alone displayed 
 will foot up not less than twenty millions. Now, let me see," 
 again consulting her notes. 
 
 Haynerd stole a covert glance at Carmen and winked. 
 
 "The chef," the secretary resumed, "was brought over from 
 Paris by Mrs. Ames on her recent return. His name, Pierre 
 Lotard, descendant of the famous chef of the Emperor Napo- 
 leon First. He considers that his menu to-night surpasses any- 
 thing he ever before achieved." 
 
 "May I ask," interrupted Haynerd, "the probable cost of 'the 
 supper?" 
 
 "Yes, perhaps you had better mention that item. It will 
 be in the neighborhood of three hundred dollars a plate. House 
 and table decorations, about eight thousand dollars. Here is 
 a copy of the menu. Run it in full. The menu cards were 
 hand-illuminated by Parisian artists, and each bears a sketch 
 illustrative or suggestive of the guest to whom it is given." 
 
 "Cost?" queried Haynerd off-handedly. 
 
 "Three thousand, if I correctly recall it," was the nonchalant 
 reply. "As to the viands, you will mention that they have been 
 gathered from every part of the world. Now come with me, 
 and I will give you a hasty sketch of the house, while the guests 
 are assembling in the grand salon. Then you will remain in 
 the balcony, where you will make what notes you wish on 
 the dress displayed. Refreshments will be served to you later 
 in this waiting room. I need not remind you that you are 
 not expected to mingle with the guests, nor to address any one. 
 Keep to the balcony, and quite out of view." 
 
 Opening a door opposite, the one through which she had 
 entered, the young woman led her charges directly out upon 
 the great marble balcony overlooking the grand salon below. 
 A rush of brilliant light engulfed them, and a potpourri of 
 chatter and laughter, mingled with soft music from a distant 
 organ, and the less distinct notes of the" orchestra in the still 
 more distant ballroom, rose about them in confused babel, as 
 they tiptoed to the exquisitely carved marble railing and peered 
 down upon the gorgeous pageant. The ceiling rose far above 
 them, delicately tinted like a soft Italian sky. The lofty walls 
 dropped, like gold-gray veils, to the richly carved paneled 
 
 43 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 wainscoting beneath, which had once lined the halls of a medi- 
 aeval castle on the Rhine. The great windows were hidden 
 behind rare Venetian lace curtains, over which fell hangings of 
 brocade, repeating the soft tints of the wall and the brocade- 
 covered chairs and divans ranged close about the sides of the 
 splendid room. On the floor lay a massive, priceless Persian 
 carpet, dating from the fifteenth century. 
 
 Haynerd drew a long breath, and whistled softly. From 
 the end of the salon he could mark the short flight of steps 
 which led to the mezzanine, with its walls heavily tapestried, 
 and broken by rich oak doors opening into lavatories and 
 lounging rooms, itself widening at the, far end into the grand 
 billiard and smoking parlors, done off in Circassian walnut, 
 with tables and furniture to harmonize. From the mezzanine 
 he saw the grand stairway falling away in great, Sweeping 
 curves, all in blended marble from the world's^ greatest quar- 
 ries, and delicately chased and carved into classic designs. 
 Two tapestries, centuries old, hung from the walls on either 
 side. Far above, the oak ceiling, for which the Schwarzwald 
 had been ranged, was overlaid with pure gold leaf. The whole 
 was suffused with the glow of myriad hidden and inverted 
 lights, reflected in a thousand angles from burnished gold and 
 marble and rarest gems. 
 
 Haynerd turned to the waiting secretary. He groped in the 
 chambers of his imagery for some superlative adjective to ex- 
 press his emotion before this colossal display of wealth. But 
 his ample vocabulary had. faded quite. He could only shake 
 his head and give vent to the inept remark, "Swell — by George!" 
 
 Tlie secretary, without replying, motioned them to follow. 
 Passing noiselessly around the balcony to the opposite side, she 
 indicated a door below, leading off to the right from the grand 
 salon. 
 
 "That room beyond," she said, "is. the petit salon. The 
 decorative effects are by French artists. Beyond that is the 
 morning room. It is in panels from French chateaux, covered 
 with Gobelin tapestry. Now from here you can see a bit of 
 the music room. The grand organ cost, installed, about two 
 hundred thousand dollars. It is electrically controlled, with 
 its pipes running all around the room, so as to give the effect 
 of music coming from every corner." 
 
 Haynerd again softly whistled. 
 
 "There are three art galleries beyond, two for paintings, and 
 one for sculpture. Mr. Ames has without doubt the finest art 
 collection in America. It includes several Titians, Veroneses, 
 da Vincis, Turners, three Rubens, and two Raphaels. By the 
 way, it may interest you to know that his negotiations for the 
 
 44 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Murillo Madonna were completed to-day, and the picture will 
 be sent to him immediately." 
 
 "Might I ask what he paid for it?" Haynerd inquired cas- 
 ually. 
 
 "You may say that he paid something over three hundred 
 thousand dollars for it," she replied, in a quite matter of fact 
 tone. "Now," she continued, "you will go back to your first 
 position, near the door of the waiting room, and remain there 
 until I return. I may have an opportunity later to show you 
 the library. It is very unique. Great carved stone fireplace, 
 taken from a Scotch castle. Hundreds of rare volumes and- 
 first editions. Now, if any one approaches, you can step be- 
 hind the screen and remain out of view. You have chairs and 
 a table there for your writing. Do not in any event leave this 
 balcony." 
 
 With this final injunction she turned and disappeared into 
 the little waiting room from which they had emerged. 
 
 For some moments Carmen and Haynerd stood looking al- 
 ternately at each other and about them at their magnificent 
 environment. Both had seen much of the gilded life, and the 
 girl had dwelt some months in its alien atmosphere. But 
 neither had ever witnessed such a stupendous display of mate- 
 rial wealth as was here unfolded before their astonished gaze. 
 At the head of the grand stairway stood the Ames trio, to 
 receive their resplendent guests. The women were magnifi- 
 cently gowned. But Ames's massive form in its simple black 
 and chaste linen was the cynosure of all eyes. Even Haynerd 
 could not suppress a note of admiration as he gazed at the 
 splendid figure. 
 
 "And yet," he murmured, "a victim, like the rest, of the 
 great delusion." 
 
 Carmen laid down the opera glasses through which she had 
 been studying the man. "He is an expression," she said, "of 
 the American ideal — the ideal of practical material life. It is 
 toward his plane of life that this country's youth are struggling, 
 at, oh, what a cost! Think, think, what his immense, mis- 
 used revenue could do, if unselfishly used! Why, the cost of 
 this single night's show would put two hundred men like 
 Father Waite through a four-year course in the University, 
 and train them to do life's work! And what, what will Mr. 
 Ames get out of it?" 
 
 "Oh, further opportunities to increase his pile, I suppose," 
 returned Haynerd, shrugging his shoulders. 
 
 "But, will he get real happiness? Peace? Joy? And does 
 he need further opportunities to accumulate money? Does he 
 not rather need some one to show him the meaning of life, 
 how to really live?" 
 
 45 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "He does, indeed ! And it may be your mission. Carmen, to 
 do just that. But if you don't, then I sincerely hope the man 
 may die before he discovers that all that he has achieved, his 
 wealth, his prestige, his power, have not been worth striving 
 for!" 
 
 "He hasn't the slightest idea of the meaning of life," she 
 murmured, looking down upon the glittering throng. "Nor 
 have any of them." 
 
 "No," he replied. "They put me in mind of Carlyle's famous 
 remark, as he stood looking out across the London Strand: 
 'There are in this city some four million people, mostly fools.' 
 How mean, narrow and hard their lives are! These are the 
 high priests of vested privilege, of mediaevalism, of old in- 
 stitutions whose perpetual maintenance, even in a generation 
 that has progressed far beyond them, is a fungus blight upon 
 us. Ah, there's little Willie Van Wot, all dolled out! He's 
 glorifying his Creator now by devoting his foolish little ex- 
 istence to coaching trips along the New England shore. He re- 
 minds me of the Fleet street poet who wrote a century ago of 
 the similar occupation of a young dandy of that day — 
 
 What can little T. O. do? 
 
 Why, drive a Phaeton and Two! ! ! 
 
 Can little T. O. do no more? 
 
 Yes, drive a Phaeton and Four! ! ! ! 
 
 He's an interesting outgrowth of our unique social system, eh?" 
 "We must follow Emerson and treat them all as we do 
 pictures, look at them in the best light," murmured Carmen. 
 "Aye, hang them in the best light!" returned Haynerd. 
 "But make sure they're well hung! There, goes the pseudo- 
 princess, member of the royal house of England. She carries 
 the royal taint, too. I tell you, under the splash and glitter you 
 can see the feet of clay, eh?" 
 
 "Yes," smiled Carmen, "resting upon the high heel." 
 "Huh!" muttered Haynerd, with a gesture of disgust. "The 
 women of fashion seem to feel that the Creator didn't do a 
 good job when He designed the feminine sex — that He should 
 have put a hump where the heel is, so's to slant the foot and 
 make comfortable walking impossible, as well as to insure a 
 plentiful crop of foot-troubles and deformities. The Chinese 
 women used to manifest a similarly insane thought. Good 
 heavens! High heel, low brain! The human mind is" a cave 
 of black ignorance!" 
 
 Carmen did not reply, but bent her attention again to the 
 throng below. 
 
 "Look there," said Haynerd, indicating a stout, fuU- 
 toiletted woman, resplendent with diainonds. "That's our 
 
 46 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 eminent French guest, Madam Carot. She severed herself 
 from her tiresome consort last year by means of a bichloride 
 tablet deftly immersed in his cofifee, and then, leaving a sigh 
 of regret hovering over his unhandsome remains, hastened to 
 our friendly shores,- to grace the beau monde with her gowns 
 and jewels." 
 
 Carmen turned to him with a remonstrance of incredulity. 
 
 "Fact," he stubbornly insisted. "The Social Era got the 
 whole spicy story. And there beside her is our indispensable 
 Mrs. T. Oliver Pennymon. See, she's drifted up to young 
 Watson! Coquetting for a husband still, the old buzzard!" 
 
 "Mr. Haynerd!" 
 
 "Well, it's fact, anyway," persisted the society monitor. 
 "And there beyond her is fat little Mrs. Stuff enheimer, with 
 her two unlovely, red-faced daughters. Ah, the despairing 
 mamma is still vainly angling for mates for her two chubby 
 Venuses! If they're not married off properly and into good 
 social positions soon, it's mamma for the scrap heap! By 
 George! it's positively tragic to see these anxious mothers at 
 Newport and Atlantic City and other fashionable places, rush- 
 ing madly hither and yon with their marriageable daughters, 
 dragging them from one function to another in the wild hope 
 that they may ultimately land a man. Worry and pain dig deep 
 furrows into poor mamma's face if she sees her daughters 
 fading into the has-been class. It requires heroism, I say, to 
 travel in society! But I guess you know, eh? Well," taking 
 up his notebook, "we must get busy now. By the way, how's 
 your shorthand progressing?" 
 
 "Oh, splendidly," replied the girl, her eyes still upon the 
 massive figure of Ames. Then, recovering from her abstrac- 
 tion, "I can write as fast in it now as in longhand." 
 , "Good!" said Haynerd. "You'll need it later." 
 
 For more than an hour the two sat in the seclusion of the 
 splendid balcony, looking down upon the scene of magnificence 
 below. Through the mind of the young girl ran a ceaseless 
 paean of thanksgiving for her timely deliverance from the 
 trammels which she so well knew enshackled these glittering 
 birds of paradise. With it mingled a great, consuming desire, 
 a soul-longing to pour into the vacuity of high society the 
 leaven of her own pure thought. In particular did her bound- 
 less love now go out to that gigantic figure whose ideals of life 
 this sumptuous display of material wealth and power ex- 
 pressed. Why was he doing this? What ulterior motive had 
 he? Was it only a vainglorious exhibition of his own human 
 prowess? Was it an announcement, magnificent beyond 
 compare, that he, J. Wilton Ames, had attained the supreme 
 
 47 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 heights of gratified world ambition? That the world at last 
 lay at his feet? And that over it brooded the giant's lament 
 that there remained nothing more to conquer? But, it so, the 
 girl at least knew that the man's herculean efforts to subdue 
 the material world were as nothing. The real conquest lay still 
 before him, the conquest of self. And when that were faced 
 and achieved, well she knew that no such garish display as 
 this would announce the victory to a breathless world. 
 
 The bustling little social secretary again appeared, and 
 briefly announced the production of an opera in the audito- 
 rium, to which she had come to conduct them. Passing through 
 the little waiting room and to the elevator, they quickly 
 mounted to the unoccupied gallery of the theater above. The 
 parquet, which would seat nearly a thousand spectators, was 
 rapidly filling with an eager, curious throng. The Ames trio 
 and some of the more distinguished guests were already oc- 
 cupying the gorgeously decorated boxes at the sides. An 
 orchestra of fifty pieces was visible in the hollow below the 
 stage. Caroni, the famous grand opera leader, stood ready to 
 conduct. The opera itself was the much discussed music 
 drama, Salome. 
 
 "Now," commented Haynerd to his fair, wondering com- 
 panion, who was lost in contemplation of the magnificent mural 
 decorations of the little theater, "we will see something rare, 
 for this opera has been called the most artistic piece of inde- 
 cency known to the stage. Good heavens ! Ames has got Marie 
 Deschamps for the title role. She'll cost him not less than five 
 thousand dollars for this one night. And— see here," drawing 
 Carmen's attention to the bill, "Marcou and Corvallje besides! 
 The man must be made of money! These stars get three thou- 
 sand dollars a night during the regular season." 
 
 Every phase of sophistication was manifested in that glit- 
 tering audience when the curtain rose and the sensational 
 theme was introduced. But to none came thoughts like those 
 which clamored for admittance at the portals of Carmen's 
 mentality. In the bold challenge of the insanely sensual por- 
 trayal of a carnal mind the girl saw the age-old defiance of the 
 spirit by the flesh. In the rolls of the wondrous music, in its 
 shrieks, its pleadings, and its dying echoes, she heard voiced 
 again the soul-lament of a weary world searching vainly in 
 the mazes of human thought for truth. As the wonderful 
 Deschamps danced weirdly before her in the ghastly light and 
 fjell gloating over her gory trophy, Carmen saw but the frantic 
 struggles of a diseased soul, portrayed as the skilled surgeon 
 lays bare the malignant growth that is eating the quivering tis- 
 sues of a human frame. The immodesty of dress, the sensual 
 
 48 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 suggestiveness of the dance, the brutal flouting of every element 
 of refinement and delicacy, blazoned in frenzied tone and 
 movement the bloody orgy and dance of death which goes on 
 incessantly upon the stage of human life, and ends in the mad 
 whirl and confusion and insane gibbering over the lifeless 
 trophies for which mankind sell their very souls. 
 
 "About the limit of tolerance, eh?" commented Haynerd, 
 when the final curtain dropped. "Yes, even to a vitiated taste. 
 The passionate thirst for the sensational has led to this sicken- 
 ing display of salacity — " 
 
 "Splendid, wasn't it?" came in tones of admiration from the 
 social secretary, who had returned to conduct her charges back 
 to the balcony before the guests emerged from the theater. 
 "You will run the program in full, and comment at some length 
 on the expense attached," she went on. "You have just wit- 
 nessed the private production of a full opera, unabridged, and 
 with the regular operatic cast. Supper will follow in a half 
 hour. Meantime, you will remain in the balcony where you 
 were before." 
 
 Returning to their former position. Carmen sank into a 
 chair at the little table behind the screen, and strove to orient 
 her thought. Hiaynerd sat down beside her to arrange his vo- 
 luminous notes. Presently footsteps were heard, and the sound 
 of voices. Haynerd glanced through the hinge of the screen. 
 "Ha!" he whispered, "here comes Ames and — who's with him? 
 Ah, Representative Wales. Showing him about, I suppose." 
 
 Carmen gazed at the approaching men with fascinated eyes, 
 although she saw but one, the towering magician who had 
 reared this fairy palace. She saw Ames lead his companion 
 to the door of the little waiting room at their right, and heard 
 the congressman protest against entering. 
 
 "But we can talk Undisturbed in here," urged Ames, his 
 hand on the door. 
 
 "Better remain out here on the balcony," replied the con- 
 gressman nervously, as he moved toward the railing. 
 
 Ames laughed and shrugged his enormous shoulders. He 
 understood the man's repugnance fully. But he humored him. 
 
 "You know, Wales," he said easily, going to the railing and 
 peering over at the brilliant assemblage below, "if I could get 
 the heathen Chinee to add an extra half-inch to his shirt length, 
 I'd make a hundred millions. And then, perhaps, I wouldn't 
 need to struggle with your Ways and Means Committee as I 
 do. By the way, the cotton schedule will be reported out un- 
 changed, I presume." He turned and looked quizzically at his 
 companion as he said this. 
 
 Wales trembled slightly when he replied to the question he 
 had been awaiting. "I think not, Mr. Ames." 
 
 49 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 The giant's face clouded. "Parsons will vote for it," he 
 said suggestively. "What will you do?" 
 
 The congressman hesitated. "I — the party, Mr. Ames, is 
 committed to the high tariff principle. We can not let in a 
 flood of foreign cotton — " 
 
 "Then you want the fight between the farmers and spinners 
 to continue, eh?" interposed Ames cynically. "You don't seem 
 to realize that in the end both will get more money than they 
 are getting now, and that it will come from the consumer, who 
 will pay vastly higher for his finished products, in addition to 
 the tariff. Do you get me?" 
 
 "It is a party principle, Mr. Ames," returned the con- 
 gressman tenaciously. 
 
 "Look here, Wales," said Ames, turning savagely upon his 
 companion. "The cotton farmers are organizing. They have 
 got to be stopped. Their cooperative associations must be 
 smashed. The tariff schedule which you have before your Com- 
 mittee will do it. And you are going to pass it." 
 
 "Mr. Ames," replied the congressman, "I^ — I am opposed to 
 the constant manipulation of cotton by you rich men. I — " 
 
 "There," interrupted Ames, "never mind explaining your 
 conscientious scruples. What I want to know is, do you in-; 
 tend to cast your vote for the unaltered schedule?" 
 
 "N — no, Mr. Ames, I can't — " 
 
 "H'm," murmured Ames. Then, with easy nonchalance, 
 turning to an apparently irrelevant topic as he gazed over the 
 railing, "I heard just before coming from my office this even- 
 ing that the doors of the Mercantile Trust would not open to- 
 morrow. Too bad! A lot of my personal friends are heavily 
 involved. Bank's been shaky for some time. Ames and Com- 
 pany will take over their tangible assets. I believe you were 
 interested, were you not?" He glanced at the trembling man 
 out of the corners of his eyes. 
 
 Wales turned ashen. His hands shook as he grasped the 
 railing before him and tried to steady himself. 
 
 "Hits you pretty hard, eh?" coolly queried Ames. 
 
 "It — it — ^yes — ^very hard," murmured the dazed man. "Are 
 you — rpositive ?" 
 
 "Quite. But step into the waiting room and 'phone the news- 
 papers. They will corroborate my statements." 
 
 Representative Wales was serving his first term in Congress. 
 His election had been a matter of surprise: to everybody, him- 
 self included, excepting Ames. Wales knew not that his de- 
 tailed personal history had been for many months carefully 
 filed in the vaults of the Ames tower. Nor did he ever suspect 
 that his candidacy and election had been matters of most care- 
 
 50 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ful thought on the part of the great financier and his political 
 associates. But when he, a stranger to congressional halls, 
 was made a member of the Ways and Means Committee, his 
 astonishment overleaped all bounds. Then Ames had smiled 
 his own gratification, and arranged that the new member 
 should attend the formal opening of the great Ames palace 
 later in the year. Meantime, the financier and the new con- 
 gressman had met on several occasions, and the latter had felt 
 no little pride in the attention which the great man had shown 
 him. 
 
 And so the path to fame had unrolled steadily before the 
 guileless Wales until this night, when the first suspicions of his 
 thraldom had penetrated and darkened his thought. Then, 
 like a crash from a clear sky, had come the announcement of 
 the Mercantile Trust failure. And as he stood there now, 
 clutching the marble railing, his thought busy with the woman 
 and the two fair children who would be rendered penniless by 
 this blow, the fell presence of the monster Ames seemed to 
 bend over him as the epitome of ruthless, brutal, inhuman 
 cunning. 
 
 "How much are you likely to lose by this failure?" the giant 
 asked, 
 
 Wales collected his scattered senses. "Not less than fifty 
 thousand dollars," he replied in a husky voice. 
 
 "H'm!" commented Ames. "Too bad! too bad! Well, let's 
 go below. Ha! what's this?" stooping and apparently taking 
 up an object that had been lying on the floor back of the con- 
 gressman. "Well! well! your bank book, Wales. Must have 
 slipped from your pocket." 
 
 Wales took the book in a dazed, mechanical way. "Why — 
 I have no — this is not mine," he murmured, gazing alternately 
 at the pass book and at Ames. 
 
 "Your name's on it, at least," commented Ames laconically. 
 "And the book's been issued by our bank, Ames and Company. 
 Guess you've forgotten opening an account there, let me see, 
 yes, a week ago." He took the book and opened it. "Ah, yes, 
 I recall the incident now. There's your deposit, made last 
 Friday." 
 
 Wales choked. What did it mean? The book, made out in 
 his name on Ames and Company, showed a deposit to his credit 
 of fifty thousand dollars! 
 
 Ames slipped his arm through the confused congressman's, 
 and started with him down the balcony. "You see," he said, 
 as they moved away, "the Mercantile failure will not hit you 
 as hard as you thought. Now, about that cotton schedule, when 
 you cast your vote for it, be sure that — " The voice died away 
 
 51 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 as the men disappeared in the distance, leaving Carmen and 
 Haynerd staring blanlily at each other. 
 
 "Well!" ejaculated Haynerd at length. "What now?" 
 
 "We must save them both," said Carmen quietly. 
 
 "I could make my everlasting fortune out. of this !" exclaimed 
 Haynerd excitedly. 
 
 "And lose your soul," replied the girl. "But I will see Mr. 
 Ames, and tell him that we overheard his conversation. He 
 will save us all." 
 
 Haynerd then smiled, but it was a hard smile, coming from 
 one who knew the world. "Listen, my dear girl," he said, "we 
 will keep quiet, you and I. To mention this would be only to 
 court disaster at the hands of one who would strangle us at 
 the slightest intimation of our knowledge. Can you not see 
 the consequences to us?" 
 
 "I can se'e but the right," returned Carmen determinedly. 
 "And the right shall prevail!" 
 
 "But, my dear girl," cried Haynerd, now thoroughly alarmed 
 both for himself and her, "he would ruin us! This is no 
 affair of ours. We had no intention of hearing; and so let it 
 be as if we had not heard." 
 
 "And let the lie of evil prevail? No, Mr. Haynerd, I could 
 not, if I would. Mr. Ames is being used by evil ; and it is 
 making him a channel to ruin Mr. Wales. Shall I stand idly 
 by and permit it? No!" 
 
 She rose, with a look of fixed resolution on her face. Hay- 
 nerd sprang to his feet and laid a detaining hand upon her arm. 
 As he did so, the screen was quickly drawn aside, and Kathleen 
 Ames and two of her young companions bent their curious gaze 
 in upon them. Absorbed in their earnest conversation, Carmen 
 and Haynerd had not heard the approach of the young ladies, 
 who were on a tour of inspection of the house before supper. 
 
 "Reporters for the Social Era, Miss Ames," explained Hay- 
 nerd, hastily answering the unspoken question, while he made 
 a courteous bow. 
 
 But Kathleen had not heard him. "What — j^oul" she cried, 
 instantly recognizing Carmen, and drawing back. "How dared 
 you! Oh!" 
 
 "What is it, dear?" asked one of the young ladies, as her 
 eyes roved over Carmen's tense, motionless figure^ 
 
 "You — creature!" cried Kathleen, spurting her venom at 
 Carmen, while her eyes snapped angrily and her hands twitched. 
 "When the front door is closed against you, you sneak in 
 through the back door ! Leave this house, instantly, or I shall 
 have you thrown into the street!" 
 
 "Why, Kathleen dear!" exclaimed one of her companions. 
 "She is only a reporter!" 
 
 52 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "She is a low, negro wench!" cried Kathleen maliciously. 
 "She comes from a brothel! She foisted herself upon society, 
 and was discovered and kicked out! Her father is a dirty 
 negro priest, and her mother a low — " 
 
 Haynerd rushed to the maddened girl and clapped his 
 hand over her mouth. "Hush, for God's sake. Miss Ames!" 
 Then, to her companions, "Take her away!" he pleaded. "And 
 we will leave at once!" 
 
 But a house detective, attracted by the loud conversation, 
 had come up and interposed. At his signal another one ap- 
 proached. "Bring Mr. Ames," he quietly commanded. "I can 
 not put them out if they have his permission to remain," he 
 explained to the angry Kathleen. 
 
 In a few moments, during which the little group stood tense 
 and quiet, Ames himself appeared. 
 
 "Well?" he demanded. "Ah!" as his eyes lighted upon 
 Carmen. "My little girl! Arid^— so this is your assistant?" 
 turning inquiringly to Haynerd. "By George! Her article in 
 last week's Social Era was a corker. But," staring from 
 Kathleen to the others, "what's the row?" 
 
 "I want that creature put out of the house!" demanded 
 Kathleen, trembling with rage and pointing to Carmen. 
 
 "Tut, tut," returned Ames easily. "She's on business, and 
 has my permission to remain. But, by George! that's a good 
 joke," winking at Haynerd and breaking into a loud laugh. 
 "You put one over on us there, old man!" he said. 
 
 "Father!" Scalding tears of anger and humiliation were 
 streaming down Kathleen's face. "If she remains, I shall go — 
 I shall leave the house— I will not stay under the same roof 
 with the lewd creature!" 
 
 "Very well, then, run along," said Ames, taking the humil- 
 iated Kathleen by the shoulders and turning her about. "I 
 will settle this without your assistance." Then he motioned 
 to the house detectives to depart, and turned to Haynerd and 
 Carmen. "Come in here," he said, leading the way to the little 
 waiting room, and opening the door. 
 
 "Lord! but you belong down stairs with the rest," he 
 ejaculated as he faced Carmen, standing before him pale but 
 unafraid. "There isn't one down there who is in your class !" he 
 exclaimed, placing his hands upon her shoulders and looking 
 down into her beautiful face. "And," he continued with sud- 
 den determination, "I am going to take you down, and you 
 will sit at the table with me, as my special guest!" 
 
 A sudden fear gripped Haynerd, and he started to interpose. 
 But Carmen spoke first. 
 
 "Very well, Mr. Ames," she said quietly. "Take me down. 
 I have a question to ask Mr. Wales when we are at the table." 
 
 53 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 An expression of surprise and inquiry came into Ames's 
 face. "Mr. Wales?" he said wonderingly. "You mean Con- 
 gressman — " 
 
 Then he stopped abruptly, and looked searchingly at Car- 
 men and her companion. Haynerd paled. Carmen stood un- 
 flinching. Ames's expression of surprise gave place to one 
 dark and menacing. 
 
 "You were behind that screen when Congressman Wales 
 and I—" 
 
 "Yes," returned Carmen calmly. "I overheard all you said. 
 I saw you bribe him." 
 
 Ames stood like a huge, black cloud, glowering down upon 
 the slender girl. She looked up at him and smiled. 
 
 "You are going to tell him that the fifty thousand dollars 
 are juist a loan, and that he may vote as he chooses, aren't 
 you?" she said. "You will not ruin his life, and the lives of 
 his wife and babies, will you? You would never be happy, 
 you know, if you did." Her voice was as quiet as the morning 
 breeze. 
 
 "So!" the giant sneered. "You come into my house to play 
 spy, eh? And if I had not caught you when I did you would 
 have written another interesting article for the Social Era, 
 wouldn't you? By God! I'll break you, Haynerd, and your 
 infernal sheet into a million pieces if you dare print any such 
 rot as this ! And as for you, young lady — " 
 
 "You can do nothing to me, Mr. Ames; and you don't really 
 want to," said Carmen quickly. "My reputation, you know- 
 that is, the one which you people have given me — ^is just as 
 black as it could be, isn't it? So that is safe." She laughed 
 lightly. 
 
 Then she became very serious again. "It doesn't really 
 make any difference to you, Mr. Ames," she said, "whether the 
 cotton schedule is passed or not. You still have your millions — 
 oh, so much more than you will ever know what to do with! 
 But Mr. Wales, he has his wife and his babies and his good 
 reputation — would you rob him of those priceless treasures, 
 jiist to make a few dollars more for yourself? — dollars that 
 you can't spend, and that you won't let others have?" 
 
 During the girl's quiet talk Ames was regaining his self- 
 control. When she concluded he turned to Haynerd. "Miss 
 Carmen can step out into the balcony. You and I will arrange 
 this matter together," he said. 
 
 Carmen moved toward the door. 
 
 "Now," said Ames significantly, and in a low voice, "what's 
 your price?" 
 
 Instantly the girl turned back and threw herself between 
 
 54 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the two men, "He is not for sale!" she cried, her eyes flashing 
 as she confronted Ames. 
 
 "Then, by God!" shouted Ames, who had lost himself com- 
 pletely, "I will crush him like a dirty spider! And you, I'll drag 
 you through the gutters and make your name a synonym of all 
 that is vile in womanhood!" 
 
 Carmen stepped quietly to the elevator and pressed the 
 signal button. 
 
 "You shall not leave this house!" cried the enraged Ames, 
 starting toward her. "Or you'll go under arrest!" 
 
 The girl drew herself up with splendid dignity, and faced 
 him fearlessly. "We shall leave your house, and now, Mr. 
 Ames!" she said. "You and that for which you stand can not 
 touch us ! The carnal mind is back of you ! Omnipotent God 
 is with us!" 
 
 She moved away from him, then turned and stood for a 
 moment, flashing, sparkling, radiant with a power which he 
 could not comprehend. "You know not what you do. You are 
 blinded and deceived by human lust and greed. But the god 
 you so ignorantly worship now will some day totter and fall 
 upon you. Then you will awake, and you will see your present 
 life as a horrid dream." 
 
 The elevator appeared. Carmen and the dazed Haynerd 
 stepped quickly into it and descended vvithout opposition to 
 the lower floor. A few moments later they were again in the 
 street and hurrying to the nearest car line. 
 
 "Girlie," said Haynerd, mopping the perspiration from his 
 brow, "we're in for it now — and I shall be crushed ! But yoU-^ 
 I think your God will save you." 
 
 Carmen took his hand. "His arm is not shortened," she 
 murmured, "that He can not save us both." 
 
 CHAPTER 5 
 
 ON the Monday morning following the Ames reception the 
 society columns of the daily papers still teemed with ex- 
 travagant depictions of the magnificent affair. On that 
 same morning, while Haynerd sat gloomily in the office of the 
 Social Era, meditating on his giant adversary's probable first 
 move. Carmen, leaving her studies and classes, sought out an 
 unpretentious home in one of the suburbs of the city, and for 
 an hour or more talked earnestly with the timid, frightened 
 little wife of Congressman Wales. Then, her work done, she 
 dismissed the whole affair from her mind, and hastened joy- 
 
 55 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ously back to the University. She would have gone to see 
 Ames himself. "But," she reflected, as she dwelt on his con- 
 duct and words of the previous Saturday evening^ "he is- not 
 ready for it yet. And when he is, I will go to him. And Kath- 
 leen — well, I will help her by seeing only the real child of God, 
 which was hidden that night by the veil of hatred and jealousy. 
 And that veil, after all, is but a shadow." 
 
 That evening the little group of searchers after God as- 
 sembled again in the peaceful precincts of the Beaubien cot- 
 tage. It was their third meeting, and they had come together 
 reverently to pursue the most momentous inquiry that has 
 ever stimulated human thought. 
 
 Haynerd and Carmen had said little relative to the Ames 
 reception; but the former, still brooding over the certain conse- 
 quences of his brush with Ames, was dejected and distraught. 
 Carmen, leaning upon her sustaining thought, and conceding 
 no mite of power or intelligence to evil, glowed like a radiant 
 star. 
 
 "What are you listening to?" she asked of Haynerd, drawing 
 him to one side. "Are you giving ear to the voices of evil, or 
 good? Which are you making real to yourself? For those 
 thoughts which are real to you will become outwardly man- 
 ifested, you know." 
 
 "Bah! He's got us — tight!" muttered Haynerd, with a 
 gesture signifying defeat. "And the insults of that arrogant 
 daughter of his — " 
 
 "She did not insult me," said Carmen quickly. "She could 
 not, for she doesn't know me. She merely denounced her con- 
 cept of me, and not my real self. She vilified what she thought 
 was Carmen Ariza; but it was only her own thought of me that 
 she insulted. Can't you see? And such a concept of me as 
 she holds deserves denouncing, doesn't it?" 
 
 "Well, what are we going to do?" he pursued testily. 
 
 "We are going to know," she vvhispered, "that we two with 
 God constitute an overwhelming majority." She said nothing 
 about her visit to the Wales home that morning, but pressed 
 his hand, and then went to take her place at the table, where 
 Father Waite was already rapping for order. 
 
 "My friends," began that earnest youiig man, looking lov- 
 ingly about at the little group, "as we are gathered here we 
 symbolize that analytical, critical endeavor of the unbiased 
 human mind to discover the essence of religion. Religion is 
 that which binds us to absolute truth, and so is truth itself. If 
 there is a God, we believe from our former investigations that 
 He must be universal mind. This belief carries with it as nec- 
 essary corollaries the beliefs that He must be perfect, eternal, 
 
 56 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 and self-existent. The question, Who made God? must then 
 receive its sufficient answer in the staggering statement that 
 He has always existed, unchanged and unchangeable." 
 
 A sigh from Haynerd announced that quizzical soul's strug- 
 gle to grasp a statement at once so radical and stupendous. 
 
 "True," continued Father Waite, addressing himself to his 
 doubting friend, "the acceptance as fact of what we have de- 
 duced in our previous meetings must render the God of ortho- 
 dox theology quite obsolete. But, as a compensation, it gives to 
 us the most enlarged and beautiful concept of Him that we have 
 ever had. It ennobles, broadens, purifies, and elevates our idea 
 of Him. It destroys forever our belittling view of Him as but 
 a magnified human character, full of wrath and caprice and 
 angry threats, and delighting in human ceremonial and re- 
 ligious thaumaturgy. And, most practical of all for us, it 
 renders the age-long problem of evil amenable to solution." 
 
 Just then came a ring at the front door; and a moment 
 later the Beaubien ushered Doctor Morton into the room. All 
 rose and hastened to welcome him. 
 
 "I — :I am sure," began the visitor, looking at Carmen, "that 
 I am not intruding, for I really come on invitation, you know. 
 Miss Carmen, first; and then, our good friend Hitt, who told 
 me this afternoon that you would probably meet this evening. 
 I — I pondered the matter some little time — ah, but — ^well, to 
 make it short, I couldn't keep away from a gathering' so ab- 
 solutely unique as this — I really couldn't." 
 
 Carmen seized both his hands. "My!" she exclaimed, her 
 eyes dancing, "I am glad you came." 
 
 "And I, too," interposed Haynerd dryly, "for now we have 
 two theological Philistines. I was feeling a bit lonely." 
 
 "Ah, my friend," replied the doctor, "I am simply an advo- 
 cate of religious freedom, not a — " 
 
 "And religious freedom, as our wise Bill Nye once said, is 
 but the art of giving intolerance a little more room, eh?" re- 
 turned Haynerd with a laugh. 
 
 The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "You are a Philistine," 
 he said. "I am a human interrogation." 
 
 Carmen took the doctor by the arm and led him to a place 
 beside her at the table. "You-r-you didn't bring poor Yorick?" 
 ishe whispered, with a glint of mischief in her bright eyes. 
 
 "No," laughed the genial visitor, "he's a dead one, you told 
 me." 
 
 "Yes," replied the girl, "awfully dead! He is an outward 
 manifestation of dead human beliefs, isn't he? But now listen, 
 Father Waite is going to speak." 
 
 After a brief explanation to the doctor of the purpose of 
 
 57 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the meeting, and a short rdsumd of their previous deductions, 
 Father Waite continued the exposition of his subject. 
 
 "The physical universe," he said, "is to human beings a 
 reality. . And yet, according to Spencer's definition of reality, 
 we must admit that the universe as we see it is quite unreal. 
 For the real is that which endures." 
 
 "And you mean to say that the universe will not endure?" 
 queried Haynerd abruptly. • 
 
 "i do," replied Father Waite. "The phenomena of the 
 universe, even as we see it, are in a state of ceaseless change. 
 Birth, growth, maturity, decay, and death seems to be the law 
 for all things material. There is perpetual genesis, and per- 
 petual exodus." 
 
 "But," again urged Haynerd, "matter itself remains, is in- 
 destructible." 
 
 "Not so," said Father Waite. "Our friend. Doctor Morton, 
 will corroborate my statement, I am sure," 
 
 The doctor nodded. "It is quite true," he said in reply. 
 "And as revolutionary as true. The discovery, in the past few 
 years, of the tremendously important fact that matter dis- 
 integrates and actually disappears, has revolutionized all physi-; 
 cal science and rendered the world's text books obsolete." 
 
 "And matter actually disappears?" echoed Miss Wall in- 
 credulously, 
 
 "Absolutely!" interposed Hitt. "The radium atom, we find, 
 lasts some seventeen hundred years, or a trifle longer. What 
 becomes of it when it is destroyed? We can only say that it 
 disappears from human consciousness." 
 
 "And so you reason that the whole material universe will 
 ultimately disappear from the human consciousness?" 
 
 "Yes,"" returned Hitt, "I feel certain of it. Let us consider 
 of what the universe consists. For many months I have been 
 pondering this topic incessantly. I find that I can agree, in a 
 measure, . with those scientists who regard the physical uni- 
 verse as composed of only a few elementary constituents, 
 namely, matter, energy, space, ^nd time — " , , 
 
 "Each one of these elements is mental," interrupted Car? 
 men. 
 
 "Exactly!" replied Hitt. "And the physical universe, even 
 from the human standpoint, is, thereforie, wholly mental." 
 
 "Well, but we see it!" ejaculated Haynerd, "And we feel 
 and hear it! And I'm sure we smell it!" 
 
 Hitt laughed. "Do we?" he asked. 
 
 "No," interposed Father Waite ; "we see only our mental 
 concept of a universe, for seeing is wholly a mental process. 
 Our comprehension of anything is entirely mental," 
 
 58 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "But now," resumed Hitt, "to get back to the supposed 
 reality of the physical universe, let us examine its constituents. 
 First, let us consider its unity established by the harmonious 
 interplay of the forces permeating it. This great fact is what 
 led Herbert Spencer to conclude that the universe could have 
 but one creator, one ruler, and that polytheism was untenable." 
 
 "We are quite agreed regarding that," said Father Waite. 
 "If the Creator is mind. He is of very necessity infinite and 
 omnipotent; hence there can be but one Creator." 
 
 "Very well," continued Hitt. "Now as to time. Is it mate- 
 rial or tangible? Would it exist, but as a convenience for the 
 human mind? Is it not really a creation of that mind? And, 
 lastly, is it not merely a mental concept?" 
 
 "Our consciousness of time," replied Carmen, "is only our 
 awareness of a continuous series of mental states." 
 
 "That classifies it exactly," said Hitt, "and renders it wholly 
 mental. And now as to space," he resumed. "We are ac- 
 customed to say, loosely, that space is that in which we see 
 things about us. But in what does the process of seeing con- 
 sist? I say, I see a chair. What I really mean is that I am 
 conscious of a chair. The process of seeing, we are told, is 
 this: light, coming from the chair, enters the eye and casts an 
 image of the chair upon the retina, much as a picture is thrown 
 upon the ground glass of a camera. Then, in some way, the 
 little rods and cones — the branching tips of the optic nerve 
 which project from the retina — are set in motion by the light- 
 waves. This vibration is in some mysterious manner carried 
 along the optic nerve to a center in the brain, and — ^well, then 
 the mind becomes cognizant of the chair out there, that's all." 
 
 They sat silent for some moments. Then Miss Wall spoke. 
 "Do you mean to say," she queried, "that, after thousands of 
 years of thought and investigation, mankind now know noth- 
 ing more than that about the process of seeing?" 
 
 "I do," returned Hitt. "I confess it in all humility." 
 
 "Then all I've got to say," put in Haynerd, "is that the 
 most remarkable thing about you learned men is your igno- 
 rance!" 
 
 The doctor smiled. "I find it is only the fool who is cock- 
 sure," he replied. 
 
 "Now," said Hitt, resuming the conversation, "let us go a 
 step further and inquire, first. What is light? since the process 
 of seeing is absolutely dependent upon it." 
 
 "Light," offered the doctor, "is vibrations, or wave-motion, 
 so physicists tell us." 
 
 "Just so," resumed Hitt. "Light, we say, consists of vibra- 
 tions. Not vibrations of anything tangible or definitely mate- 
 
 59 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 rial, but — well, just vibrations in the abstract. It is vibratory 
 or wave motion. Now let us concede that these vibrations in 
 some way get to the brain center; and theri let us ask. Is the 
 mind there, in the brain, awaiting the arrival of these vibra- 
 tions to inform it that there is a chair outside?" 
 
 Haynerd indulged in a cynical laugh. 
 
 "It is too serious for laughter, my friend," said Hitt. "For 
 to such crude beliefs as this we may attribute all the miseries 
 of mankind." 
 
 "How is that?" queried Miss Wall in surprise. 
 
 "Simply because these beliefs constitute the general belief 
 in a universe of matter without and about us. As a plain state 
 ment of fact, there is no such thing. But, I ask again. Is the 
 mind within the brain, watting for vibrations that will give it 
 information concerning the external world? Or does the mind, 
 from some focal point without the brain, look first at these 
 vibrations, and then translate them into terms of things with- 
 out? Do these vibrations in some way suggest form and color 
 and substance to the waiting mind? Does the mind first look 
 at vibrating nerve-points, and then form its own opinions re- 
 garding material objects? Does anything material enter the 
 eye?" 
 
 "No," admitted the doctor; "unless we believe that vibra- 
 tions per se are material." 
 
 "Now I ask, Is the mind reduced to such slavery that it 
 must depend upon vibrations for its knowledge of an outside 
 world?" continued Hitt. "And vibrations of minute pieces of 
 flesh, at that! Flesh that will some day decay and leave the 
 mind helpless!" 
 
 "Absurd!" exclaimed Haynerd. "Why doesn't the mind 
 look directly at the chair, instead of getting its knowledge of 
 the chair through vibrations of bits of meat? Or isn't there 
 any chair out there to look at?" 
 
 "There!" exclaimed Hitt. "Now you've put your mental 
 finger upon it. And now we are ready to nail to the cross of 
 ignominy one of the crudest, most insensate beliefs of the 
 human race. The human mind gets nothing whatsoever from 
 vibrations, from the human, fleshly eye, nor from any one of 
 the five so-called physical senses! The physical sense-testimony 
 which mankind believe they receive from the eyes, the ears, and 
 the other sense organs, can, even at best, consist only of a lot of 
 disconnected, unintelligible vibrations; and anything that the 
 mind may infer from such vibrations is inferred without any 
 outside authority whatsoever!" 
 
 "Well!" ejaculated Miss Wall and Haynerd in a breath. 
 
 "And, further," continued Hitt, "we are forced to admit 
 
 60 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 that all that the mind knows is the contents of itself, of its 
 own consciousness, and nothing more. Then, instead of seeing, 
 hearing, and feeling real material objects outside of ourselves, 
 we are in reality seeing, hearing, and feeling our own mental 
 concepts of things^ — in other words, our own thoughts of 
 things!" 
 
 A deep silence lay for some moments over the little group at 
 the conclusion of Hitt's words. Then Doctor Morton nodded 
 his acquiescence in the deduction. "And that," he said, "ef- 
 fectually disposes of the question of space." 
 
 "There is no space. Doctor," replied Hitt. "Space is like- 
 wise a mental concept. The human mind sees, hears, and feels 
 nothing but its own thoughts. These it posits within itself 
 with reference to one another, and calls the process 'seeing 
 material objects in space.' The mind as little needs a space in 
 which to see things as in which to dream them. I repeat, we 
 do not see external things, or things outside of ourselves. We 
 see always and only the thoughts that are within our own 
 mentalities. Everything is within." 
 
 "That's why," murmured Carmen, "Jesus said, 'The king- 
 dom of heaven is within you.' " 
 
 "Exactly!" said Hitt. "Did he not call evil, and all that 
 originates in matter, the lie about God? And a lie is wholly 
 mental. I tell you, the existence of a world outside of ourselves, 
 an objective world composed of matter, is wholly inferred — it 
 is mental visualizing — and it is unreal, for it is not based upon 
 fact, upon truth!" 
 
 "Then," queried Haynerd, "our supposed 'outer world' is 
 but our collection of thought-concepts which we hold within 
 us, within our own consciousness, eh?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "But— the question of God?" 
 
 "We are ready for that again," replied Hitt. "We have 
 said that in the physical universe all is in a state of incessant 
 change. Since the physical universe is but a mental concept 
 to each one of us, we must admit that, were the concept based 
 upon truth, it would not change. Our concept of the universe 
 must be without the real causative and sustaining principle of 
 all reality, else would it not pass away. And yet, beneath and 
 behind all these changes, something endures. What is it? 
 Matter? No. There is an enduring substance, invisible to hu- 
 man sight, but felt and known through its own influence. Is 
 it law? Yes. Mind? Yes. Ideas? Yes. But none of these 
 things is in any sense material. The material is the fleeting, 
 human concept, composed of thought that is not based upon 
 feality. These other things, wholly mental, or spiritual, if you 
 
 61 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 prefer, are based upon that 'something' which does endure, 
 and which I will call the Causative Principle. It is the Uni- 
 versal Mind. It is what you loosely call God." 
 
 "Then did God make matter?" persisted Haynerd. 
 
 "I think," interposed Doctor Morton at this juncture, "that 
 I can throw some light upon the immaterial character of mat- 
 ter, if I may so put it; for even our physical reasoning throws 
 it entirely into the realm of the mentaf." 
 
 "Good!" exclaimed Hitt. "Let us hear from you, Doctor." 
 
 The doctor sat for some moments in a deep study. Then 
 he began: 
 
 "The constitution of matter, speaking now from an admit- 
 tedly materialistic standpoint, that of the physical sciences, is 
 a subject of vastest interest and importance to mankind, for 
 human existence is material. 
 
 "The ultimate constituent of matter has been called the 
 atom. But we have said little when we have said that. The 
 atom was once defined as a particle of matter so minute as to 
 admit of no further division. That definition has gone to the 
 rubbish heap, for the atom can now be torn to pieces. But — 
 and here is the revolutionary fact in modern physical science 
 — it is no longer held necessary that matter should consist of 
 material particles! In fact, the great potential discovery of 
 our day is that matter is electrical in composition, that it is 
 composed of what are called 'electrons,' and that these elec- 
 trons are themselves composed of electric charges. But what 
 is an electric charge? Is it matter? No, not as we know matter. 
 Is it even material? We can not say that it is. It is without 
 weight, bulk, dimensions, or tangibility. Well, then, it comes 
 dangerously near being a mental thing, known to the human 
 mind solely by its manifestations," does it not? And of course 
 our comprehension of it is entirely mental, as is our compre- 
 hension of everything." 
 
 He paused for a moment, that his words might be fully 
 grasped. Then he went on : 
 
 "Now these atoms, whatever they are, are supposed to join 
 together to form molecules. What brings them together thus? 
 Affinity, we are told. And what is affinity? Why, it is — well, 
 law, if you please. And law? A mental thing, we must admit. 
 Very good. Then, going a step further, molecules are held 
 together by cohesion to form material objects, chairs, trees, 
 coal, and the like. But what is cohesion? Is it glue? Cement? 
 Ah, no ! Again, it is law. And law is mental." 
 
 "But, Doctor — " interrupted Haynerd. 
 
 The doctor held up a detaining hand. "Let me finish," he 
 said. "Now we have the very latest word from our physical 
 
 62 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 scientists regarding the constitution of matter: it is composed 
 of electric charges, held together by law. Again, you may 
 justly asli: Is matter material — or mental?" 
 
 He paused again, and took up a book that lay before him. 
 
 "Here," he continued, "I hold a solid, material, lumpy 
 thing, composed, you will say, of matter. And yet, in essence, 
 and if we can believe our scientists, this book is composed of 
 billions of electric charges — invisible things, without form, 
 without weight, without color, without extension, held together 
 by law, and making up a material object which has mass, color, 
 weight, and extension. From millions of things which are 
 invisible and have no size, we get an object, visible and ex- 
 tended." 
 
 "It's absurd!" exclaimed Miss Wall. 
 
 "Granted," interposed Hitt. "Yet, the doctor is giving the 
 very latest deductions of the great scientists." 
 
 "But, Doctor," said Father Waite, "the scientists tell us 
 that they have experimental evidence in support of the theories 
 which you have stated regarding the composition of matter. 
 Electricity has been proven granular, or atomic, in structure. 
 And every electrical charge consists of an exact number of 
 electrical atoms spread out over the surface of the charged 
 body. All this admits of definite calculation." 
 
 "Admitted," said Hitt, taking up the challenge. "And their 
 very calculations and deductions are rapidly wearing away the 
 'materialistic theory' of matter. You will admit that mathe- 
 matics is wholly confined to the realm of mind. It is a strictly 
 mental science, in no way material. It loses definiteness when 
 'practically' applied to material objects. Kant saw this, and 
 declared that a science might be regarded as further removed 
 from or nearer to perfection in proportion to the amount of 
 mathematics it contained. Now there has been an astonishing 
 confirmation of this great truth just lately. At a banquet given 
 in honor of the discoverer of wireless telegraphy it was stated 
 that the laws governing the traversing of space by the invisible 
 electric waves were more exact than the general laws of physics, 
 where very complex formulas and coefficients are required for 
 correcting the general laws, due to surrounding material con- 
 ditions. The greater exactness of laws governing the invisible 
 electric waves was said to be due to the absence of matter. 
 And it was further stated that whenever matter had to be taken 
 into consideration there could be no exact law of action!" 
 
 "Which shows—?" 
 
 "That matter admits of no definite laws," replied Hitt. 
 "That there are no real laws of matter. And that definiteness 
 is attained only as we dematerialize matter itself." 
 
 63 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "In other words, get into the realm of the mental?" 
 
 "Just so. And now for the application. I have said that 
 we do not receive any testimony whatsoever through the so- 
 called material senses, but that we see, hear, feel, taste, and 
 smell our own thoughts — that is, the thoughts which, from 
 some source, come into our mentalities. Very well, our scien- 
 tists show us that, as they get farther away from dense mate- 
 rial thoughts, and deal more and more with those which have 
 less material structure, less material composition, their laws 
 become more definite, more exact. Following : this out to its 
 ultimate conclusion, we may say, then, that onlyi those laws 
 which have to do with the non-material are perfect." 
 
 "And those," said Carmen, "are the laws of mind." 
 
 "Exactly! And now the history of physical science shows 
 that there has been a constant deviation from the old so-called 
 fixed 'laws of matter.' The law of impenetrability has had to 
 go. A great physicist tells us that, when dealing with suffi- 
 ciently high speeds, matter has no such property as impenetra- 
 bility. Mass is a function of velocity. The law of indestructi- 
 bility has had to go. Matter deteriorates and goes to pieces. 
 The material elements are not fixed. The decided tendency of 
 belief is toward a single element, of which all matter is com- 
 posed, and of which the eighty-odd constituent elements of 
 matter accepted to-day are but modifications. That unit ele- 
 ment may be the ether, of course. And the great Russian 
 chemist, Mendeleef, so believed. But to us, the ether is a 
 mental thing, a theory. But, granting its existence,, its uni- 
 versal penetrability renders matter, as we know it, non-rexist- 
 ent. Everything reduces to the ether, in the final analysis. 
 And all energy becomes vibrations in and of the ether." 
 
 "And the ether," supplemented the doctor, "has to be with- 
 out mass, invisible, tasteless, intangiblej much more rigid than 
 steel, and at the same time some six hundred billion times 
 lighter than air, in order to fulfill all the requirements made 
 of it and to meet all conditions." 
 
 "Yes; and yet the ether is a very necessary theory, if we 
 are going to continue to explain the phenomena of force on a 
 material basis." 
 
 "But if we abandon that basis — ?" 
 
 "Then," said Carmen, "matter reduces to what it really is, 
 the human mind's interpretation of substance.'' 
 
 "Yes," said Hitt, turning to her; "I think you are right; 
 matter is the way real substance — let us say, spirit — lOoTis to 
 the human mentality. It is the way the human mind inter- 
 prets its ideas of spirit. In other words, the human mind looks 
 at the material thoughts and ideas which enter it, and calls 
 
 64 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 them solid' substance, occupying spgce^^calls them matter, with 
 definite laws, and, in certain i forms, containing life and in- 
 telligence." 
 
 "Aye, that is it!" said Father Waite. "And that has been 
 the terrible mistake of the ages, the one great error, the one 
 lie, that has caused us -all to miss the mark and come short, 
 far short, of the glory of the mind that is God. There is the 
 origin of the problem of evil!" 
 
 "Undoubtedly," replied Hitt. "For evil is in essence but 
 evil thought. And evil thought, is invariably associated with 
 matter. The origin of all eivil is matter itself. And matter, 
 we find, is but a menial concept, a thing of thought. Oh, the 
 irony of it!" 
 
 "Well," put in Haynerd, who had been twitching nervously 
 in his chair, "let's get to the conclusion of this very learned 
 discussion. I'm a plain man, and I'd like to know just where 
 we've landed. What have you said that I can take home with 
 me? The earth still revolves around the sun, even if it is a 
 mean mud ball. And I can't see that I can get along with less 
 than three square meals a day." 
 
 "We have arrived," replied Hitt gravely, "at a most mo- 
 mentous conclusion, deduced by the physical scientists them- 
 selves, namely, that things are not what they seem. In other 
 words, all things material seem to reduce to vibrations in and 
 of the ether; the basis of all materiality is energy, motion, 
 activity — mental things. All the elements of matter seem to 
 be but modifications of one all-pervading element. That ele- 
 ment is probably the ether, often called the 'mother of matter.' 
 The elements, such as carbon, silicon, and the others, are not 
 elementary at all, but are forms of one universal element, the 
 ether. Hence, atoms are not atoms. The so-called rare ele- 
 ments are rare only because their lives are short. They dis- 
 integrate rapidly and change into ojher forms of the universal 
 element — or disappear. 'Atoms are but fleeting phases of mat- 
 ter,' we are told. They are by no means eternal, even though 
 they may endure for millions of years." 
 
 "Y-e-s?" commented Haynerd with a yawn. 
 
 "A great scientist of our own day," Hitt continued, "has 
 said that 'the ether is so modified as to constitute matter, in 
 some way.' What does that mean? Simply that 'visible mat- 
 ter and invisible ether are one and the same thing.' But to the 
 five so-called physical senses the ether is utterly incompre- 
 hensible. So, then, matter is wholly incomprehensible to the 
 five physical senses. What is it, then, that we call matter? 
 It can be nothing more than the human mind's interpretation 
 of its idea of an all-pervading, omnipresent something, a some- 
 thing which represents substance to it." 
 
 50 65 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Let me add a further quotation from the grea^ physical 
 scientist to whom you have referred," said the doctor. "He 
 has said that the ether is not matter, but that it is material. 
 And further, that we can not deny that the ether may have 
 some mental and spiritual functions to subserve in some other 
 order of existence, as matter has in this. It is wholly unrelated 
 to any of our senses. The sense of sight takes cognizance of 
 it, but only in a very indirect and not easily recognized way. 
 And yet — stupendous conclusion! — without the ether there 
 could be no material universe at all!" 
 
 "In other words," said Hitt, "the whole fabric of the mate- 
 rial universe depends upon something utterly unrecognizable 
 by the five physical senses." 
 
 "Exactly!" replied the doctor. 
 
 "Then," concluded Hitt, "the physical senses give us no 
 information whatsoever of a real physical universe about us." 
 
 "And so," added Father Waite, "we come back to Carmen's 
 statement, namely, that seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and 
 feeling are mental processes, in no way dependent upon the 
 outer fleshly organs of sense — " 
 
 "Nonsense!" interjected Haynerd. "Why is it, then, that if 
 the eyes are destroyed we do not see?" 
 
 "Simply, my friend, because of human belief," replied Hitt. 
 "The human mind has been trained for untold centuries to de- 
 pendence upon beliefs in the reality of matter, and beliefs in 
 its dependence upon material modes for sight, hearing, touch, 
 and so on. It is because of its erroneous beliefs that the human 
 mind is to-day enslaved by matter, and dependent upon it for 
 its very sense of existence. The human mind has made its 
 sense of sight dependent upon a frail, pulpy bit of flesh, the 
 eye. As long as that fleshly organ remains intact, the human 
 mind sees its sense of sight externalized in the positing of its 
 mental concepts about it as natural objects. But let that 
 fleshly eye be destroyed, and the human mind sees its belief 
 of dependence upon the material eye externalized as blindness. 
 When the fleshly eye is gone the mind declares that it can no 
 longer see. And what it declares as truth, as fact, becomes 
 externalized to it. I repeat, the human mind sees and hears 
 only its thoughts, its beliefs. And holding to these beliefs) 
 and making them real to itself, it eventually sees them exter- 
 nalized in what it calls its outer world, its environment, its 
 universe. And yet, the materialistic scientists themselves show 
 that the human mind can take no cognizance whatever through 
 the five physical senses of the all-pervading basis of its very 
 existence, the ether. And the ether — alas! it is but a theory 
 which we find necessary for any intelligible explanation of the 
 farce of human existence on a material basis." 
 
 66 
 
CARMEN ARI2A 
 
 "Now see here!" retorted Haynerd, rising and giving ex- 
 pression to his protest by means of emphatic gestures. "I'm 
 getting mixed — badly ! You tell me that the existence of things 
 demands a creator, and I admit it, for there can be no effect 
 without a cause. Then you say that the universe is infinite; 
 and I admit that, too, for the science of astronomy finds no 
 limits to spac£, and no space unoccupied. You say that the 
 unity manifested in the universe proves that there can be but 
 one creator. Moreover, to create an infinite universe there 
 must needs be an omnipotent creator; and there can be but one 
 who is omnipotent. I cordially agree. Further, I can see how 
 that creator must be mind — infinite mind. And I can see why 
 that mind must be absolutely perfect, with no intelligence of 
 evil whatsoever, else would it be a house divided against itself. 
 And such a house must eventually fall. Now I admit that the 
 universe must be the manifestation, the expression, of that 
 infinite creative mind. But — and here's the sticking point — 
 the universe is both good and evil! Hence, the mind which 
 it manifests is likewise both good and evil — and the whole 
 pretty theory blows up!" 
 
 He sat down abruptly, with the air of having given finality 
 to a perplexing question. 
 
 All eyes then turned to Carmen, who slowly rose and sur- 
 veyed the little group. 
 
 "It is not surprising," she said, smiling at the confused 
 Haynerd, "that diflBculties arise when you attempt to j-each 
 God through human reasoning — spirit through matter. You 
 have taken the unreal, and, through it, have sought to reach 
 back to the real." 
 
 "Well," interrupted Haynerd testily, "kindly explain the 
 difference." 
 
 "Then, first," replied Carmen, "let us adopt some common 
 meeting ground, some basis which we can all accept, and from 
 which we can rise. Are you all agreed that, in our every-day 
 life, everything is mental? — every action? — every object? — and 
 that, as the philosopher Mill said, 'Everything is a feeling of 
 which the mind is conscious'? Let me illustrate my meaning," 
 she continued, noting Hayherd's rising protest. "I see this 
 book; I take it up; and drop it upon the table. Have I really 
 seen a book? No; I have been conscious of thoughts which I 
 call a book, nothing more. A real material book did not get 
 into my mind; but thoughts of a book did. And the activity 
 of such thought resulted in a state of consciousness — for con- 
 sciousness is mental activity, the activity of thought. Remem- 
 ber that, even according to your great physical scientists, this 
 book is composed of millions of charges of electricity, or elec- 
 
 67 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 trons, moving at a tremendously high rate of speed. And yet, 
 regardless of its compositionj I am conscious only of my 
 thoughts of the book. It is but my thoughts that I see, after 
 all." 
 
 She paused and waited for the protest which was not voiced. 
 
 "Very well," she said, continuing; "so it is with the sense 
 of touch; I had the thought of touching it, and that thought I 
 saw; I was conscious of it when it became active in my men- 
 tality. So with sound; when I let the; book drop, I was con- 
 scious of my thought of sound. If the book had been dropped 
 in a vacuum I should not have been conscious of a thought of 
 sound — why? Because, as Mr. Hitt has told us, the human 
 mind has made its sense-testimony dependent upon vibrations. 
 And yet, there is a clock ticking up there on the wall. Do 
 you hear it?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Haynerd ; "now that you've called my atten^ 
 tion to it." 
 
 "Ah, yes," replied the girl. "You hear it when your 
 thought is directed to it. And yet the air was vibrating all the 
 time, and, if hearing is dependent upon the fleshly ear, you 
 should have heard it incessantly when you were not thinking 
 of it, as well as you hear it now when you are thinking of it. 
 Am I not right?" 
 
 "Well, perhaps so," assented Haynerd with some reluctance. 
 
 "We hear, see, and feel," continued the girl, "when our 
 thought is directed to these processes. And the processes are 
 wholly mental — they take place within our mentalities — and 
 it is there, within our minds, that we see, hear, and feel all 
 things. And it is there, within our minds, that the universe 
 exists for us. It is there that we hold our world, our fleshly 
 bodies, everything that we call material. The universe that we 
 think we see all about us consists of the mental concepts, made 
 up of thought, which we hold within our mentalities." 
 
 Haynerd nodded somewhat dubiously. Carmen proceeded 
 with the exposition of her theme. 
 
 "Whence come these material thoughts that are within us? 
 And are they real? Can we control them? And how? They 
 are real to us, at any rate, are they not? And if they are 
 thoughts of pain and suffering and death, they are terribly real 
 to us. But let us see, now that we can reason from the basis 
 of the mental nature of all things. We have agreed that the 
 creative principle is mind, and we call it God. This infinite 
 mind constantly expresses and manifests itself in ideas. Why, 
 that is a fundamental law of mind ! You express yourself in 
 your ideas and thoughts, which you try to externalize mate- 
 rially. But the infinite mind expresses itself in an infinite 
 
 68 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 number and variety of ideas, all, like itself, pure, perfect, 
 eternal, good, without any elements or seeds of decay or dis- 
 cord. And the incessant expression of the creative mind in 
 and through its numberless ideas constitutes the never-ending 
 process of creation." 
 
 "Let me add here," interrupted Hitt, "that the Bible states 
 that God created the heavens and earth in seven days. But 
 numbers, we must remember, were mystical things to the 
 ancient Hebrews, and were largely used symbolically. The 
 number seven, for example, was used to express wholeness, 
 completeness. So we must remember that its use in Genesis 
 has a much wider meaning than its absurd theological inter- 
 pretation into seven solar days. As Carmen says, the infinite 
 creative mind can never cease to express itself; creation can 
 never cease ; and creation is but the whole, complete revelation 
 or unfoldment of infinite mind's ideas." 
 
 "And infinite mind," continued Carmen, "requires infinite 
 time in which to completely express itself. So time ceases to 
 be, and we find that all real things exist now, in an endless 
 present. Now, the ideas of infinite mind range throughout the 
 realm of infinity, but the greatest idea that the creative mind 
 can have is the idea of itself. That idea is the image and like- 
 ness of the infinite creative mind. It is the perfect reflection 
 of that mind — ^its perfect expression. That idea is what the 
 man Jesus always saw back of the human concept of man. 
 That idea is the real man!" 
 
 "Well!" exclaimed Haynerd. "That's quite a different 
 proposition from the mud-men that I do business with daily. 
 What are they? Children of God?" 
 
 "If they were real," said Carmen, "they would have to be 
 children of God. But then they would not be 'mud-men.' Now 
 I have just spoken of the real, the spiritual creation. That is 
 the creation mentioned in the first chapter of Genesis, where 
 all was created — revealed, unfolded — by God, and He saw that 
 it was perfect, good. 'In the beginning,' says the commentator. 
 That is, 'To begin with— ^God.' Everything begins with God 
 in the realm of the real. The creative mind is first. And the 
 creation, or unfoldment, is like its creative principle, eternal 
 and good." 
 
 "But," persisted Haynerd, "how about the material man?" 
 
 "Having created all things spiritually," continued the girl, 
 "was it necessary that the creative mind should repeat its 
 work, do it over again, and produce the man of dust descij'ibed 
 in the second chapter of Genesis? Is that second account of 
 the creation an inspiration of truth — or a human comment?" 
 
 "Call it what you will," said the cynical Haynerd; "the 
 
 69 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 fact remains that the mud-man exists and has to be reckoned 
 with." 
 
 "Both of your premises are wholly incorrect," returned the 
 girl gently. "He does not exist, excepting in human, mortal 
 thought. He is a product of only such thought. He and his 
 material universe are seen and dealt with only in such thought. 
 And such thought is the direct antithesis of God's thought. 
 And it is therefore unreal. It is the supposition, the lie, the 
 mist that went up and darkened the earth." 
 
 "But— the human man—?" 
 
 "Is just what you have said, a hue of a man, a dark hue, 
 the shadowy opposite which seems to counterfeit the real, 
 spiritual man and claim all his attributes. He is not a com- 
 pound of mind and matter, for we have seen that all things are 
 mental, even matter itself. He is a sort of mentality, a counter- 
 feit of real mind. His body and his universe are in himself. 
 And, like all that is unreal, he is transient, passing, ephemeral, 
 mortal." 
 
 "Yet, God made him!" 
 
 "No, for he does not exist, excepting in supposition. Does 
 a supposition really exist? If so, then not even truth can de- 
 stroy it. But supposition passes out before truth. No, the 
 human mind is the 'old man' of Paul. He is to be put off by 
 knowing his nothingness, and by knowing the unreality of his 
 supposed material environment and universe. As he goes out 
 of consciousness, the real man, the idea of God, perfect, har- 
 monious, and eternal, comes in." 
 
 "And there," said Father Waite impressively, "you have 
 the whole scheme of salvation, as enunciated by the man 
 Jesus." 
 
 "There is no doubt of it," added Hitt. "And, oh, my friends ! 
 how futile, how base, how worse than childish now appear the 
 whole theological fabric of the churches, their foolish man- 
 made dogmas, their insensate beliefs in a fiery hell and a golden 
 heaven. Oh, how belittling now appear their concepts of God 
 — a God who can damn unbaptised infants, who can predestine 
 his children to eternal sorrow, who creates and then curses his 
 handiwork! Do you wonder that sin, sorrow, and death re- 
 main among us while such awful beliefs hold sway over the 
 human mind? God help us, and the world!" 
 
 Haynerd, who had been sitting quietly for some moments, 
 deep in thought, rose and held out his hands, as if in entreaty. 
 "Don't — don't!" he exclaimed. "I can't hear any more. I want 
 to think it all over. It seems — it seems as if a curtain had 
 been raised suddenly. And what I see beyond is — " 
 
 Carmen went swiftly to the man and slipped an arm about 
 
 70 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 him. "That infinite creative Mind, so misunderstood and mis- 
 interpreted by human beings, is back of you," she whispered. 
 "And it is Love." 
 
 Haynerd turned and grasped her hands. "I believe it," he 
 murmured. "But had I not seen the proof in you, no amount 
 of reasoning would have convinced me." And, bowing to the 
 little group, he went out. 
 
 "Well?" said Hitt, turning inquiringly to the doctor. 
 
 The latter raised his head. "If these things are true," he 
 made answer slowly, "then I shall have to recast my entire 
 mentality, my whole basis of thinking." 
 
 "It is just what you must do. Doctor, if you would work out 
 your salvation," said Carmen. "Jesus said we must repent if 
 we would be saved. Repentance — the Greek metanoia — means 
 a complete and radical change of thought." 
 
 "But — do you mean to say that the whole world has been 
 mistaken? That the entire human race has been deceived for 
 ages?" 
 
 "Why," said Hitt, "it was only in our own day, compara- 
 tively speaking, that the human. race was undeceived in regard 
 to the world being round. And there are thousands of human 
 beings to-day who still believe in witchcraft, and who worship 
 the sun and moon, and whose lives are wholly under the spell 
 of superstition. Human character, a great scientist tells us, 
 has not changed since history began." 
 
 "But we can't revamp our thought-processes!" 
 
 "Then we must go on missing the mark, sinning, suffering, 
 sorrowing, and dying, over and over and over again, until we 
 decide that we can do so," said Hitt. 
 
 The doctor looked at Carmen and met that same smile of 
 unbounded love which she gave without stint to a sin-weary 
 world. 
 
 "I— I'll come again," he said. "When? To-morrow night?" 
 
 "Yes," said Carmen, rising and coming around to him. 
 "And," in a whisper, "bring Pat." 
 
 CHAPTER 6 
 
 THE Social Era had for many years made its weekly ap- 
 pearance every Saturday morning, that its fashionable 
 clientele might appease their jaded appetites on the Sab- 
 bath day by nibbling at itis spicy pabulum. But, though the 
 Ames reception had fallen on a Saturday night, the following 
 Friday morning found the columns of the Era still awaiting 
 
 71 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 a report of the notable affair. For Haynerd's hand seemed 
 paralyzed. Whenever he set his pen to the task, there loomed 
 before him only the scene in the little waiting room, and he 
 could write of nothing else. He found himself still dwelling 
 upon the awful contrast between the slender wisp of a girl 
 and her mountainous opponent, as they had stood before him; 
 and the terrifying thoughts of what was sure to follow in con- 
 sequence drenched his skin with cold perspiration. 
 
 On the desk before him <. lay the essay which he had asked 
 Carmen to •write during the week, as her report of the brilliant 
 event. He had read it through three times, and each time had 
 read into it a new meaning. He dared not run it. Not that it 
 ridiculed or condemned — at least, not openly — but because 
 every one of its crisp comments admitted of an interpretation 
 which revealed the hidden depths of the social system, and its 
 gigantic incarnatiouj as if under the glare of a powerful search- 
 light. It was in no sense a muck-raking exposition. Rather, 
 it was an interpretation, and a suggestion. It was, too, a pre- 
 diction; but not a curse. The girl loved those about whom she 
 wrote. And yet, he who read the essay aright would learn 
 that her love stopped not at the flimsy veil of the flesh, but 
 penetrated until it rested upon the fair spiritual image beyond. 
 And then Haynerd saw that the essay was, in substance, a social 
 clinic, to which all searchers after truth were bidden, that they 
 might learn a great lesson from her skillful dissection of the 
 human mind, and her keen analysis of its constituent thought. 
 
 As he sat wrapped in reflection, the early morning mail was 
 brought in. He glanced up, and then started to his feet. The 
 letters spread over his desk like an avalanche of snow; and 
 the puffing mail carrier declared that; he had made a special 
 trip with them alone. Haynerd began to tear them open, one 
 after another. Then he called the office boy, and set him at 
 the task. There were more than five hundred of them, and 
 each contained a canceled subscription; to the Social Era; 
 
 A dark foreboding settled down over Haynerd's mind. He 
 rose and went to the card-index to consult his subscription 
 list. It was gone! He stood confusedly for a moment, then 
 hastened to the window that looked out upon a fire-escape. Its 
 lock lay broken upon the floor. He turned and rushed to the 
 vault, which, reflecting his own habitual carelessness, was 
 never locked. His ledgers and account books were not there. 
 Then he crept back to his desk and sank into a chair. 
 
 The noon mail brought more letters of like nature, until 
 the office boy tallied nearly eight hundred. Then Hkynerd, 
 as if rousing from a dream, reached for the telephone and 
 summoned Hitt to his rescue. The Social Era was foundering. 
 
 72 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Its mailing list had contained some fifteen hundred names. 
 The subscription price was twelve dollars a year^ — and never, 
 to his knowledge, had it been paid in advance by his ultra- 
 rich patrons^ most of whom were greatly in arrears. Haynerd 
 saw it all vanishing now as quietly as the mist fades before 
 the summer sun. i , 
 
 Within an hour the wondering Hitt was in conference with 
 him, and Haynerd had told the story of the theft, of the Ames 
 bribe, and the encounter following. "But," he cried, "can 
 Ames kill my entire subscription list, and in a single week?" 
 
 "Easily," replied Hitt, "and in any one of several ways. 
 Apparently he had caused your subscription list and books to 
 be stolen. Your sun has set, Ned. Or, rather, Ames has lifted 
 it bodily from the sky." 
 
 "Then I'll shoot him! I'll — ! But we've got the goods on 
 him! Carmen and I saw him bribe Wales ! We'll expose him!" 
 
 Hitt laughed. "Forget all that," he said, laying a hand 
 on the excited man's arih. ^'Remember, that Wales would 
 never dare breathe a word of it; Carmen has no reputation or 
 standing whatsoever now in this city; and Ames would make 
 out a case of blackmail against you so quickly that it would 
 swfeep you right into the Toihbs, Go easy. And first, let us get 
 the girl herself down here." 
 
 He took the telephone and called up several of the Univer- 
 sity departments, after first ascertaining that she was not at 
 her home. Then, having located her, he plunged into a study 
 of the situation with the distracted publisher. 
 
 "That's the way of it!" cried Haynerd at length. "Here I 
 waste my evenings in learned philosophical discussions with 
 you people, and meantime, while we're figuring out that there 
 is no evil, that monster, Ames, stretches out a tentacle and 
 strangles me! Fine practical discussions we've been having, 
 ain't they? I tell you, I'm through with 'em!" He brought his 
 fist down upon the desk with a crash. 
 
 "Ned," said Hitt, "you'i'e a fool." 
 
 "Sure I am!" shoiited Haynterd. "Do I deny it? Here I 
 had a nice, clean business, no work, good pay — and, just be- 
 cause I associated with you and that girl, the whole damn 
 thing goes up the flue ! Pays to be good, doesn't it? Nix!" 
 
 "H'm; well, Ned, you're not only a fool, but a blooming 
 idiot," replied Hitt calmly. 
 
 "Lay it on!- Lay it on thick!" roared Haynerd. "And if 
 you run out of epithets, I'll supply a few ! I'm a — " 
 
 The door swung open, and Carmen entered, fresh as the sea 
 breeze, and panting with her haste. "Do you know," she 
 began eagerly, "two men followed me all the way down from 
 
 73 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the University! They watched me come in here, and — but, 
 what is wrong with you two?" She stopped and looked in- 
 quiringly from one to the other, 
 
 "Well," began Hitt hesitatingly, "we were reflecting — " 
 
 "Reflecting? What ? Good, or evil ?" she demanded. 
 
 "We were just holding a wake, that's all," muttered Hay- 
 nerd. 
 
 "Then wake up!" she cried, seizing his hand. 
 
 Hitt pushed out a chair for the girl, and bade her sit down. 
 Then he briefly related the events which had led to her being 
 summoned. "And now," he concluded, "the question is, does 
 Wales know that you and Ned saw Ames try to bribe him?" 
 
 "Why, of course he knows!" cried Carmen. "His wife told 
 him." 
 
 "And who informed her?" 
 
 "I did — last Monday morning, early," answered the won- 
 dering girl. 
 
 "Didn't I tell you?" ejaculated Haynerd, turning upon Hitt 
 and waving his arms about. "What do you — " 
 
 "Hold your tongue, Ned!" interrupted Hitt. Then, to Car- 
 men, "Why did you tell her?" 
 
 "Why— ^to save her, and her husband, and babies! I told 
 her because it was right! You know it was right!" 
 
 "But, to save them, you have ruined Ned," pursued Hitt. 
 
 The girl turned to Haynerd, who sat doubled up in his 
 chair, the picture of despair. "I haven't ruined you, Ned." 
 It was the first time she had used this name in addressing him. 
 "Things never happen, you know. And if you have been 
 pushed out of this business, it is because it isn't fit for you, 
 and because you've been awakened. You are for higher, better 
 things than the publishing of such a magazine as the Social 
 Era. I knew you just couldn't stay at this work. You have 
 got to go up—" 
 
 "Eh!" Haynerd had roused out of his torpor. "Go up? 
 Yes, I've gone up, nicely! And I was making ten thousand 
 dollars a year out of it! It was a bully proposition!" he 
 blurted. 
 
 The girl smiled. "I wasn't speaking of money," she said. 
 
 "But I was!" retorted Haynerd. "When I talk, it's in dol- 
 lars and cents!" 
 
 "And that's why your talk is mostly nonsense," put in Hitt. 
 "The girl's right, I guess. You've stagnated here long enough, 
 Ned. There's no such thing as standing still. Progress is a 
 divine demand. It's now your move." 
 
 "But — good Lord! what am I to do?" wailed the man. 
 
 ^'You now have a grand opportunity," said Carmen, taking 
 his hand. 
 
 74 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Opportunity!" 
 
 "Yes; every trial in this life is an opportunity to prove 
 that there is no evil," she said. "Listen; you have been trained 
 as a publisher. Very well, the world is waiting for the right 
 kind of publications. Oh, I've seen it for a long, long time. 
 The demand is simply tremendous. Now meet it!" 
 
 Haynerd looked confusedly from Carmen to Hitt. The 
 latter turned to the girl. "What, exactly, do you mean. Car- 
 men?" he asked. 
 
 "Let him publish now a clean magazine, or paper; let him 
 print real news ; let him work, not for rich people's moiley, but 
 for all people. Why, the press is the greatest educator in the 
 world! But, oh, how it has been abused! Now let him come 
 out boldly and stand for clean journalism. Let him find his 
 own life, his own good, in service for others." 
 
 "But, Carmen,^' protested Hitt, "do the people want clean 
 journalism? Could such a paper stand?" 
 
 "It could, if it had the right thought back of it," returned 
 the confident girl. 
 
 Haynerd had again lapsed into sulky silence. But Hitt 
 pondered the girl's words for some moments. She was not the 
 first nor the only one who had voiced such sentiments. He 
 himself had even dared to hold the same thoughts, and to 
 read in them a leading that came not from material ambitions. 
 Then, of a sudden, an idea flamed up in his mind. 
 
 "The Express!" he exclaimed. 
 
 Carmen waited expectantly. Hitt's eyes widened with his 
 expanding thought. "Carlson, editor of the Express, wants to 
 sell," he continued, speaking rapidly. 
 
 "It's a semi-weekly newspaper, printed only for country 
 circulation; has no subscription list," commented Haynerd, 
 with a cynical shrug of his shoulders. 
 
 "Buy it!" exclaimed Carmen. "Buy it! And Change it mto 
 a daily! Make it a real newspaper!" 
 
 Hitt looked into Carmen's glowing eyes. "How old are 
 you?" he suddenly asked. The abruptness of the strange, ap- 
 parently irrelevant question startled the girl. 
 
 "Why," she replied slowly, "as old as — as God. And as 
 young." 
 
 "And, as human beings reckon time, eighteen, eh?" con- 
 tinued Hitt. 
 
 She nodded, wondering what the question meant. Hitt 
 then turned to Haynerd. "How much money can you scrape 
 together, if you sell this lot of junk?" he asked, sweeping the 
 place with a glance. ,. , , x 
 
 "Five or six thousand, all told, including bank account, 
 
 75 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 bonds, and everything, I suppose," replied Haynerd mechan- 
 ically, 
 
 "Carlson wants forty thousand for the Express. I'm not a 
 rich man, as wealth is estimated to-day, but^-well, oil is still 
 flowing down in Ohio. It isn't the money — it's — it's what's back 
 of the cash." 
 
 Carmen reached over and laid a hand on his arm. "We 
 can do it," she whispered. 
 
 Hitt hesitated a moment longer, then sprang to his feet. 
 "And we will!" he cried. "I've pondered and studied this 
 scheme for a year, but I've only to-day seen the right help. 
 That is your tremendous, driving thought," he said, turning to 
 Carmen. "That thought is a spiritual dynamite, that will blast 
 its way through every material obstacle! Ned," seizing Hay- 
 nerd by the shoulder and shaking him out of his chair, "rouse 
 up ! Your light has come ! Now I'll 'phone Carlson right away 
 and make an appointment to talk business with him. You'll 
 stand with me, Carmen?" 
 
 "Yes," she said simply. 
 
 "And you, Ned?" 
 
 Haynerd blinked for a few moments, like an owl in the 
 light. But then, as a comprehension of Hitt's plan dawned 
 upon his waking thought, he straightened up. 
 
 "Buy the Express! Make a real paper of it! A — but 
 Ames?" 
 
 "He can't touch us! The clientele of the Express will not 
 be made up of his puppets! Our paper will be for the people!" 
 
 "But — ^your University work, Hitt?" 
 
 "r give my last lecture next week." 
 
 "And you. Carmen?" 
 
 "I was only biding my time," she replied gently. "This is 
 a real call. And my answer is : Here am I." 
 
 Tears began to trickle slowly down Haynerd's cheeks, as 
 the tension in his nerves slackened. He rose and seized the 
 hands of his two friends. "Hitt," he said, in a choking voice, 
 "I — I said I was a fool. But that fellow's dead now. The real 
 man has waked up, and — -well, what are you standing there for, 
 you great idiot? Go and call up Carlson!" 
 
 Again that evening the little group sat about the table in 
 the dining room of the Beaubien cottage. But only the three 
 most directly concerned, and the Beaubien, knew that the 
 owner of the Express had received that afternoon an offer for 
 the purchase of his newspaper, and that he had been given 
 twenty-four hours in which to accept it. Doctor Morton was 
 again present; and beside him sat his lifelong friend and joust- 
 
 76 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ing-mate, the very Reverend Patterson Moore. Hitt took the 
 floor, and began speaking low and earnestly. 
 
 "We must remember," he said, "in conjunction with what 
 we have deduced regarding the infinite creative mind and its 
 manifestations, that we mortals in our daily mundane exist- 
 ence deal only and always with phenomena, with appearances, 
 with effects, and never with ultimate causes. And so all our 
 material knowledge is a knowledge of appearances only. Of 
 the ultimate essence of things, the human mind knows noth- 
 ing. All of its knowledge is relative. A phenomenon may be 
 so-and-so with regard to another; but that either is absolute 
 truth we can not a£Qrm. And yet — mark this well — as Spencer 
 says, 'Every One of the arguments by which the relativity of 
 our knowledge is demonstrated distinctly postulates the posi- 
 tive existence of something beyond the relative.' " 
 
 "And just what does that mean?" asked Miss Wall. 
 
 "It is a primitive statement of what is sometimes called 
 the 'ThcQry of suppositional opposites,' " replied Hitt. "It 
 means that to every reality there is the corresponding unreality; 
 For every truth there may be postulated the supposition. We 
 can not, as the great philosopher says, conceive that our knowl- 
 edge is a knowledge of appearances only, without at the same 
 time conceiving a reality of which they are appearances. He 
 further amplifies this by saying that 'every positive notion — 
 the concept of a thing by what it is — suggests a negative no- 
 tion — the concept of a thing by what it is not. But, though 
 these mutually suggest each other, the positive alone is real.' 
 Most momentous language, that! For, interpreted, it means: 
 we must deny the seeming, or that which appears to human 
 sense, in order to see that which is real." 
 
 "Well, I declare!" exclaimed Miss Wall, glancing about to 
 note the effect of the speaker's words on the others. 
 
 But Carmen nodded her thorough agreement, and added:, 
 "Did not Jesus say that we must deny ourselves? Deny which 
 self? Why, the self that appears to us, the matter-man, the 
 dust-man, the man of the second chapter of Genesis. We must 
 deny his reality, and know that he is nothing but a mental 
 concept, formed out of suppositional thought, out of dust- 
 thought. And that is material thought." 
 
 "Undoubtedly correct," said Hitt, turning to Carmen. "But, 
 before we consider the astonishing teachings of Jesus, let us 
 sum up the conclusions of philosophy. To begin with, then, 
 there is a First Cause, omnipotent and omnipresent, and of 
 very necessity perfect. That Cause lies back of all the phe- 
 nomena of life; and, because of its real existence, there arises 
 the suppositional existence of its opposite, its negative, so to 
 
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CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 speak, which is unreal. The phenomena of human existence 
 have to do only with the suppositional existence of the great 
 First Cause's opposite. They are a reflection of that supposi- 
 tion. Hence all human knowledge of an external world is but 
 phenomenal, and consists of appearances which have no more 
 real substance than have shadows. We, as mortals, know but 
 the shadowy, phenomenal existence. We do not know reality. 
 Therefore, our knowledge is not real knowledge, but supposi- 
 tion. 
 
 "Now," he went on hastily, for he saw an expression of 
 protest on Reverend Moore's face, "we are more or less familiar 
 with a phenomenal existence, with appearances, with effects; 
 and our knowledge of these is entirely mental. We see all 
 things as thought. These thoughts, such as feeling, seeing, 
 hearing, and so on, we ignorantly attribute to the five physical 
 senses. This is what Ruskin calls the 'pathetic fallacy.' And 
 because we do so, we find ourselves absolutely dependent upon 
 these senses — ^in belief. Moreover, quoting Spencer again, only 
 the absolutely real is the absolutely persistent, or enduring. 
 Truth, for example. The truth of the multiplication table will 
 . endure eternally. It is real. But is it any whit material?" 
 
 "No," admitted Miss Wall, speaking for the others. 
 
 "And, as regards material objects which we seem to see and 
 touch," went on Hitt, "we appear to see solidity and hardness, 
 and we conceive as real objects what are only the mental signs 
 or indications of objects. Remember, matter does not and can 
 not get into the mind. Only thoughts and ideas enter our 
 mentalities. We see our thoughts of hardness, solidity, and 
 so on; and these thoughts point to something that is real. That 
 something is — what? I repeat: the ideas of the infinite crea- 
 tive Mind. The thoughts of size, shape, hardness, and so on, 
 which we group together and call material chairs, trees, moun- 
 tains, and other objects, are but 'relative realities,' point- 
 ing to the absolute reality, infinite mind and its eternal ideas 
 and thoughts." 
 
 He paused again for comments. But all seemed absorbed in 
 his statements. Then he resumed: 
 
 "Our concept of matter, which is now proven to be but a 
 mental concept, built up out of false thought, points to mind 
 as the real substance. Our concept of measurable space and 
 distance is the direct opposite of the great truth that infinite 
 mind is ever-present. Our concept of time is the opposite of 
 infinity. It is but human limitation. Age is the opposite of 
 eternity — and the old-age thought brings extinction. So, to 
 every reality there is the corresponding unreality. The oppo- 
 site of good is evil. If the infinite creative mind is good — and 
 
 78 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 we saw that by very necessity it must be so — then evil becomes 
 an awful unreality, and is real only to the false thought which 
 entertains or holds it. If life is real — and infinite mind must 
 itself be life — then death becomes the opposite unreality. And, 
 as Jesus said, it can be overcome. But were it real, no pdwer, 
 divine or human, could ever overcome or destroy it!" 
 
 "Seems to me," remarked Haynerd dryly, "that our study 
 so far simply goes to show, as Burke puts it, 'what shadows 
 we are and what shadows we pursue.' " 
 
 Hitt smiled. "When the world humiliates itself to the point 
 that it will accept that, my friend," he said, "then it will be- 
 come receptive to truth. 
 
 "But now let us go a little further," he, went on. "The 
 great Lamarck voiced a mighty fact when he said, 'Function 
 precedes structure.' For by that we mean that the egg did 
 not produce the bird, but the bird the egg. The world seems 
 about to pass from the very foolish belief that physical struc- 
 ture is the cause of life, to the great fact that a sense of life 
 produces the physical structure. The former crude belief en- 
 slaved man to his body. The latter tends to free him from 
 such slavery." 
 
 "You see. Doctor," interrupted Carmen, "the brain which 
 you were cutting up the other day did not make poor Yorick's 
 mind and thought, but his mind made the brain." 
 
 The doctor smiled and shook a warning finger at the girl. 
 . "The body," resumed Hitt, "is a manifestation of the human 
 mind's activity. What constitutes the difference between a 
 bird and a steam engine? This, in part: the engine is made 
 by human hands from without; the bird makes itself, that is, 
 its body, from within. So it is with the human body. But 
 the ignorant human mind — ignorant per se — falls a slave to 
 its own creation, the mental concept which it calls its physical 
 body, and which it pampers and pets and loves, until it can 
 cling to it no longer, because the mental concept, not being 
 based on any real principle, is forced to pass away, having 
 nothing but false thought to sustain it." 
 
 "But now," interposed Haynerd, who was again waxing 
 impatient, "just what is the practical application of all this 
 abstruse reasoning?" 
 
 "The very greatest imaginable, my friend," replied Hitt. 
 "A real thing is real forever. And so matter can not become 
 non-existent unless it is already nothing! The world is begin- 
 ning to recognize the tremendous fact that from nothing noth- 
 ing can be made. Very well, since the law of the conservation 
 of energy seems to be established as regards energy in toto, 
 why, we must conclude that there is no such thing as annihila-. 
 
 79 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 tion. And that means that there is no such thing as absolute 
 creation! Whatever is rear has always existed. The shadow 
 never was real, and does not exist. And so creation becomes 
 unfolding, or revelation, or development, of what already 
 exists, and has always existed, and always will exist. There- 
 fore, if matter, and all it includes as concomitants, evil, sin, 
 sickness, accident, chance, lack,: and death, is based upon 
 unreal, false thought, then it can all be removed, put out pf 
 consciousness, by a knowledge of truth and a reversal of our 
 accustomed human thought-processes." 
 
 "And that," said Carmen, "is salvation. It is based on 
 righteousness, which is right-thinking, thinking true thoughts, 
 and thinking truly." 
 
 "And knowing," added Hitt, "that evil, including matter, is 
 the suppositional opposite of truth. The doctrine of material- 
 ism has been utterly dispiroved even by the physicists them- 
 selves. For physicists have at last agreed that inertia is the 
 great essential property of matter. That is, matter is not a 
 cause, but an effect. It does not operate, but is operated upon. 
 It is not a law-givei*, but is subject to the human mind's so- 
 called laws concerning it. It of itself is utterly without life or 
 intelligence. : * ■< 
 
 "Very good," he continued. "Now Spencer said that matter 
 was a manifestation of an underlying pow6r or force. Physi- 
 cists tell us that matter is made of electricity, that it is an 
 electrical phenomenon, and that the ultimate constituent of 
 matter is the electron. The electron is said by some to be made 
 up of superimposed layers of positive and negative electricity, 
 and by others to be made up of only negative charges. I 
 rather prefer the latter view, for if composed of only negative 
 electricity it is more truly a negation. Matter is the negative 
 of real substance. It is a sort of negative truth. 
 
 "Now electricity is a form of energy. Hence matter is a 
 form of energy also. But our comprehension of it is wholly 
 mental. Energy is mental. The only real energy there is or 
 can be is the energy of the infinite mind we call God. This the 
 human mind copies, or imitates, by reason of what has been 
 called 'the law of suppositional Opposites,' already dwelt upon 
 at some length. Everything manifests this so-called law. Elec- 
 tricity is both positive , and negative. Gravitation is regarded 
 by some physicists as the negative aspect of radiation-pressure, 
 the latter being the pressure supposed to be exerted by all 
 material bodies upon one another; The third law of motion 
 illustrates this so-called law, for it states that action and reac- 
 tion are equal and opposite. There can be no positive action 
 without a resultant negative one. The truth has its lie. The 
 
 80 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 divine mind, God, has His opposite in the communal human, 
 or mortal, mind. The latter is manifested by the so-called 
 minds which yve call mankind. And from these so-called 
 minds issue matter and material forms and bodies, with their 
 so-called material laws. 
 
 "Yes, the material universe is running down. Stupendous 
 fact! The entire human concept is running down. Matter, 
 the human mental concept, is not eternally permanent. 
 Neither, therefore, are its concomitants, sin and discord. Mat- 
 ter disintegrates and passes away — out of human conscious- 
 ness. The whole material universe — the so-called mortal-mind 
 concept — is hastening to its death!" 
 
 "But as yet I think you have not given Mr. Haynerd the 
 practical application which he asks," suggested Father Waite, 
 as Hitt paused after his long exposition. 
 
 "I am now ready for that," replied Hitt, "We have said 
 that the material is the relative. So all human knowledge is 
 relative. But, that being so, we can go a step further and add 
 that human error is likewise relative. And now — startling 
 fact! — it is absolutely impossible to really know error!" 
 
 "Why — !" burst from the incredulous Miss Wall. 
 
 "Well?" said Hitt, turning to her. "Can you know that two 
 plus two equals seven?" 
 
 "N— no." 
 
 "Let me make this statement of truth: nothing can be 
 known definitely except as it is explained by the principle 
 which governs it. Now what principle governs an error, 
 whether that error be in music, mathematics, or life conduct?" 
 
 There was no reply to the question. 
 
 "Very well," continued Hitt. "Evil can not be really known. 
 And that is why God — infinite Mind — can not behold evil. And 
 now, friends, I have come to the conclusion of a long series of 
 deductions. If infinite mind is the cause and creator, that is, 
 the revealer, of all that really exists, its suppositional opposite, 
 its negative, must likewise simulate a creation, or revelation, or 
 unfolding, for this opposite must of very necessity pose as a cre- 
 ative principle. It must simulate all the powers and attributes 
 of the infinite creative mind. If the creative mind gave rise to 
 a spiritual universe and spiritual man, by which it expresses 
 itself, then this suppositional opposite must present its uni- 
 verse and its man, opposite in every particular to the reality. 
 It is this sort of man and this sort of universe that we, as mor- 
 tals, seem to see all about us, and that we refer to as human 
 beings and the physical universe. And yet, all that we see, 
 feel, hear, smell, or taste is the false, suppositional thought 
 that comes into our so-called mentalities, and by its supposi- 
 
 81 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 tional activity there causes what we call consciousness or 
 awareness of things." 
 
 "Then," said Father Waite, more to enunciate his own 
 thought than to question the deduction, "what the human con^ 
 sciousness holds as knowledge is little more than belief and 
 speculation, with no basis of truth, no underlying principle." 
 
 "Just so. And it brings out the fruits of such beliefs in 
 discord, decay, and final dissolution, called death. For this 
 human consciousness forms its own concept of a fleshly body, 
 and a mind-and-matter man. It makes the laws which govern 
 its body, and it causes its body to obey these false laws. Upon 
 the quality of thought entering this human consciousness de- 
 pend all the phenomena of earthly life and environment which 
 the mortal experiences. The human consciousness, in other 
 words, is a self-centered mass of erroneous thought, utterly 
 without any basis of real principle, hiit actively engaged in 
 building up mental images, and forming and maintaining- an 
 environment in which it supposes itself to live. This false 
 thought in the human consciousness forms into a false concept 
 of man, and this is the soul-and-body man, the mind-and- 
 matter man, which is called a human being, or a mortal." 
 
 "And there," commented Carmen, with a dreamy, far-away 
 look, "we have what Padre Jose so long ago spoke of as the 
 'externalization of thought.' It is the same law which Jesus 
 had in mind when he said, 'As a man thinketh in his heart, so 
 is he.'" 
 
 "Yes," said Hitt. "For we know only what enters our men- 
 talities and becomes active there. And every thought that 
 does so enter, tends at once to become externalized. That is, 
 there is at once the tendency for us to see it visualized in some 
 way, either as material object, or environment, or on our 
 bodies. And it is the very activity of such thought that con- 
 stitutes the human mentality, as I have already said." 
 
 "And that thought is continually changing," suggested 
 Father Waite. 
 
 "Just so. Its very lack of true principle requires that it 
 should change constantly, in order to simulate as closely as 
 possible the real. That accounts for the fleeting character of 
 the whole human concept of man and the physical universe. 
 The human personality is never fixed, although the eleinents of 
 human character remain; that is, those elements which are 
 essentially unreal and mortal, such as lust, greed, hatred, and 
 materiality, seem to remain throughout the ages. They will 
 give way only before truth, even as Paul said. But not until 
 truth has been admitted to the human mentality and begins 
 its solvent work there, the work of denying and tearing down 
 
 82 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the false thought-concepts and replacing them with true ones." 
 
 "And will truth come through the physical senses?" asked 
 Miss Wall. 
 
 "No, decidedly no!" said Hitt. "The physical senses testify 
 of nothing. Their supposed testimony is the material thought 
 which enters the human mentality and becomes active there, 
 resulting in human consciousness of both good and evil. And 
 that thought will have to give way to true thought, before we 
 can begin to put off the 'old man' and put on the 'new.' Hu- 
 man thoughts, or, as we say, the physical senses, do not and 
 can not testify of absolute truth. They do not know God." 
 
 "Ha!" exclaimed Haynerd, rousing up. "There goes the 
 Church, and original sin, and'f alien man!" 
 
 "There is no such thing as 'fallen man,' my friend," said 
 Hitt quietly. "The spiritual man, the image and likeness, the 
 reflection, of the infinite creative mind, is perfect as long as its 
 principle remains perfect — and that is eternally. The mortal 
 man never was perfect. He is a product of false, suppositional 
 thought. He is not and never was man. He did not fall, be- 
 cause he has had no perfection to lose." 
 
 Reverend Patterson Moore, who had sat a silent, though not 
 wholly sympathetic listener throughout the discussion, could 
 now no longer withhold his protest. "No wonder," he abruptly 
 exclaimed, "that there are so few deep convictions to-day con- 
 cerning the great essentials of Christianity ! As I sit here and 
 listen to you belittle God and rend the great truths of His 
 Christ, as announced in His Word, the Bible, I am moved by 
 feelings poignantly sorrowful! The Christ has once been cru- 
 cified; and will you slay him again?" 
 
 "No," said Carmen, her eyes dilating with surprise, "but 
 we would resurrect him ! Don't you think you have kept him 
 in the tomb long enough? The Christ-principle is intended for 
 use, not for endless burial!" 
 
 "I? My dear Miss Carmen, it is I who preach the risen 
 Christ!" 
 
 "You preach human theology, Mr. Moore," returned the 
 girl. "And because of centuries of such preaching the world 
 has steadily sunk from the spiritual to the material, and lip 
 service has taken the place of that genuine spiritual worship 
 which knows no evil, and which, because of that practical 
 knowledge, heals the sick and raises the dead." 
 
 "You insinuate that—" 
 
 "No, I state facts," said Carmen. "Paul made some mis- 
 takes, for he was consumed with zeal. But he stated truth 
 when he said that the second coming of Christ would occur 
 when the 'old man' was put off. We have been discussing the 
 
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CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 'old man' to-night, and showing how he may be put off. Now 
 do you from your pulpit teach your people how that may be 
 done?" 
 
 "I teach the vicarious atonement of the Christ, and prepare 
 my flock for the world to come," replied the minister with 
 some heat. 
 
 "But I am interested in the eternal present," said the girl, 
 "not in a suppositional future. And so was Jesus. The world 
 to come is right here. 'I am that which is, and which was, 
 and which is to come,' says the infinite, ever-present mind, 
 God!" 
 
 "I see no Christianity whatsoever in your speculative phi- 
 losophy," retorted the minister. '"If what you say is true, and 
 the world should accept it, all that we have learned in the ages 
 past would be blotted out, and falsehood would be written 
 across philosophy, science, and religion. By wafting evil 
 lightly aside as unreal, you dodge the issue, and extend license 
 to all mankind to indulge it freely. Evil is an awful, a stu- 
 pendous fact ! And it can not be relegated to the realm of 
 shadow, as you are trying to do!" 
 
 "Did Jesus regard it as a reality?" she asked. "You know, 
 Duns Scotus said: 'Since there is no real being outside of 
 God, evil has no substantial existence. Perfection and reality 
 are synonyms, hence absolute imperfection is synonymous with 
 absolute unreality.' Did Jesus know less than this man? And 
 do you really think he looked upon evil as a reality?" 
 
 "He most certainly did!" 
 
 "Then, if that is true," said the girl, "I will have to reject 
 him. But come, we are right up to the point of discussing 
 him and his teachings, and that will be the subject of our next 
 meeting. Will you join us, Mr. Moore? It is love, you know, 
 that has drawn us all together. You'll come?" 
 
 "It's an open forum, Moore," said the doctor, patting him 
 on the back. "Wisdom isn't going to die with you. Come 
 and get a new viewpoint." 
 
 "I am quite well satisfied with my present one. Doctor," 
 replied the minister tartly. 
 
 "Well, then, come and correct us when we err. It's your 
 duty to save us if we're in danger, you know." 
 
 "He will come," said Hitt. "And now. Carmen, the piano 
 awaits you. By the way, what did Maitre Rossanni tell you?" 
 
 "Oh," replied the girl lightly, "he begged me to let him 
 train me for Grand Opera." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "He said I would make a huge fortune," she laughed. 
 
 "And so you would! Well?" 
 
 84 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "I told him I carried my wealth with me, always, and that 
 my fortune was now so immense that I couldn't possibly hope 
 to add to it." 
 
 "Then you refused the chance!" 
 
 "My dear Mr. Hitt," she said, going to him and looking up 
 into his face, "I am too busy for Grand Opera and money- 
 making. My voice belongs to the world. I couldn't be happy 
 if I made people pay to hear me sing." 
 
 With that she turned and seated herself at the piano, where 
 she launched into a song that made the very Reverend Patter- 
 son Moore raise his glasses and stare at her long and curiously. 
 
 CHAPTER 7 
 
 MAN reasons and seeks human counsel; but woman obeys 
 her instincts. Carmen did this and more. Her life had 
 been one of utter freedom from dependence upon human 
 judgment. The burden of decision as to the wisdom of a 
 course of action rested always upon her own thought. Never 
 did she seek to make a fellow-being her conscience. When 
 the day of judgment came, the hour of trial or vital demand, 
 it found her standing boldly, because her love was made per- 
 fect, not through instinct alone, but through conformity with 
 the certain knowledge that he who lacks wisdom may find it 
 in the right thought of God and man. And so, when on the 
 next day she joined Hitt and Haynerd in the office of the Social 
 Era, and learned that Carlson had met their terms, eagerly, 
 and had transferred to them the moribund Express, she had no 
 qualms as to the wisdom of the step which they were taking. 
 
 But not so her companions. Haynerd was a composite 
 picture of doubt and fear, as he sat humped up in his chair. 
 Hitt was serious to the point of gloom, reflecting in a measure 
 his companion's dismal forebodings. 
 
 "I was scared to death for fear he wouldn't sell," Haynerd 
 was saying as the girl entered; "and I was paralyzed when- 
 ever I thought that he would." 
 
 Carmen laughed aloud when she heard these words. "Do 
 you know," she said, "you remind me of Lot's wife. She was 
 told to go ahead, along the right course. But she looked back 
 — alas for her! Now you two being started right are looking 
 back; and you are about to turn to salt tears! 
 
 "Now listen," she continued, as Haynerd began to remon- 
 strate; "don't voice a single fear to me! You c6uldn't make 
 me believe them true even if you argued for weeks — and we 
 
 85 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 have no time for such foolishness now. The first thing that 
 you have got to do, Ned, is to start a little cemetery. In it 
 you must bury your fears, right away, and without any mourn- 
 ing. Put up little headstones, if you wish; but don't ever go 
 near the place afterward, excepting to plant the insults, and 
 gibes, and denouncements, and vilifications which the human 
 mind will hurl at you, once the E!xpress starts out on its new 
 career. Good is bound to stir up evil; and the Express is now 
 in the business of good. Kemembel', the first thing the Apostles 
 always did was to be afraid. And they kept Jesus busy point- 
 ing out the nothingness of their fears." 
 
 "Business of good!" retorted Haynerd savagely. "I guess 
 we'll find ourselves a bit lonely in it, too!" 
 
 "True, humanly speaking," replied the girl, taking a chair 
 beside him. "But, Ned, let me tell you of the most startling 
 thing I have found in this great, new country. It is this: you 
 Americans have, oh, so much animal courage — and so little 
 true moral courage! You know that the press is one of the 
 most corrupt institutions in America, don't you? The truth 
 is not in it. Going into thousands of homes every day, it is a 
 deadlier menace than yellow fever. You know that it is muz- 
 zled by so-called religious bodies, by liquor interests, by vice- 
 politicians, by commercialism, and its own craven cowardice. 
 And yet, Ned, despite your heart-longing, you dare not face the 
 world and stand boldly for righteousness in the conduct of the 
 Express ! 
 
 "Now," she went on hurriedly, "let me tell you more. While 
 you have been debating with your fears as you awaited Mr. 
 Carlson's decision, I have been busy. If I had allowed my 
 mentality to become filled with fear and worry, as you have 
 done, I would have had no room for real, constructive thought. 
 But I first thanked God for this grand opportunity to witness 
 to Him; and then I put out every mental suggestion of failure, 
 of malicious enmity from the world, and from those who think 
 they do not love us, and with it every subtle argument about 
 the unpreparedness of the human mind for good. After that 
 I set out to visit various newspaper ofiices in the city; I have 
 talked with four managing and city editors since yesterday 
 noon. I have their viewpoints now, and know what motives 
 animate them. I know what they think. I know, in part, 
 what the Express will have to meet — and how to meet it." 
 
 Both men stared at her in blank amazement. Haynerd's 
 jaw dropped as he gazed. He had had a long apprenticeship 
 in the newspaper field, but never would he have dared attempt 
 what this fearless girl had just done. 
 
 "I have found out what news is," Carmen resumed. "It is 
 
 86 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 wholly a human invention! It is the published Vagaries of the 
 carnal mind. In the yellow journal it is the red-inked, scream- 
 ing report of the tragedies of sin. I asked Mr. Fallom if he 
 knew anything about mental laws, and the terrible results of 
 mental suggestion in his paper's almost hourly heralding of 
 murder, theft, and lust. But he only laughed and said that the 
 lurid reports of crime tended to keep people alive to what was 
 going on about them. He wouldn't see that he was making a 
 terrible reality of every sort of evil, and holding it so constantly 
 before an ignorant, credulous world's eyes that little else could 
 be seen. The moral significance of his so-called news reports 
 had no meaning whatsoever for him!" 
 
 "Did you go to see Adams?" asked Hayiierd, not believing 
 that she would have dared visit that journalistic demon. 
 
 "Yes," answered the girl, to his utter astonishment. "Mr. 
 Adams said he had no time for maudlin sentimentalism or 
 petticoat sophistry. He was in the business of collecting and 
 disseminating news, and he wanted that news to go shrieking 
 out of his office ! Here is one of his afternoon extras. You 
 can see how the report of an Italian wife-murder shrieks in 
 red letters an inch high on the very first page. But has Mr. 
 Adams thereby seen and met his opportunity? Or has he 
 further prostituted journalism by this ignorant act?" 
 
 "The people want it. Carmen," said Hitt slowly, though his 
 voice seemed not to sound a real conviction. 
 
 "They do not!" cried Carmen, her eyes snapping. "If the 
 church and the press were not mortally and morally blind, they 
 would see the deadly destruction which they are accomplishing 
 by shrieking from pulpit and sanctum: 'Evil is real! Pietro 
 Lasanni cuts his wife's throat ! Evil is real ! Look, and be 
 convinced!'" 
 
 ■ "But, Carmen, while what you say is doubtless true, it must 
 be admitted that the average man, especially the day laborer, 
 reads his yellow journal avidly, and—" 
 
 "Yes, he does," returned the girl. "And why? The average 
 man, as you call him, is a victim of the most pernicious social 
 system ever devised by the human mind! Swept along in the 
 mad rush of commercialism, or ground down beneath its ruth- 
 less wheels, his jaded, jarred nerves and his tired mind cry 
 out for artificial stimulation, for something that will for a 
 moment divert his wearied thought from his hopeless situa- 
 tion. The Church offers him little that is tangible this side of 
 the grave. But whiskey, drugs, and yellow journalism do. 
 Can't you see, Mr. Hitt — can't you, Ned^-that the world's cry 
 for sensationalism is but a cry for something that will make it 
 forget its misery for a brief moment? The average man feels 
 
 87 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the superficiality of the high speed of this century of mad 
 rush; he longs as never before for a foundation of truth upon 
 which to rest; he is tired of theological fairy-tales; he is desper- 
 ately tired of sin, and sickness, and dying. He cares little 
 about a promised life beyond the grave. He wants help here 
 and now to solve his problems. What does the press offer him? 
 Little beyond a recount of his own daily miseries* and reports 
 of graft and greed, and accounts of, vulgar displays of material 
 wealth that he has not and can not have. And these reports 
 divert his jaded mind for a moment and give him a false, fleet- 
 ing sense of pleasure — and then leave him sunk deeper than 
 before in despair, and in hatred of existing conditions!" 
 
 "The girl is right," said Hitt, turning to Haynerd. "And 
 we knew it, of course. But we have let our confidence slip. 
 This steam-calliope age reflects the human-mind struggle for 
 something other than its own unsatisfying ideas. ^It turns to 
 thrills; it expresses its restlessness and dissatisfaction with 
 itself by futurist and cubist art, so-called; by the rattle and 
 vibration of machinery; by flaring billboards that insult every 
 sense of the artistic; and by the murk and muck of yellow 
 journalism, with its hideous colored supplements and spine- 
 thrilling tales. So much for the reader. But the publisher 
 himself — well, he battens materially, of course, upon the tired 
 victims of our degrading social system. He sees but the sordid 
 revenue in dollars and cents. Beyond that his morals do not 
 extend." 
 
 "And they can't," said Haynerd. "Decent journalism 
 wouldn't pay — doesn't — never did ! Other papers have tried it, 
 and miserably failed!" 
 
 "Then," returned Hitt calmly, after a moment's reflection, 
 "oil will meet the deficit. As long as my paternal wells flow 
 in Ohio the Express will issue forth as a clean paper, a digni- 
 fied, law-sdpporting purveyor to a taste for better things^-eveii 
 if it has to create that taste. Its columns will be closed to 
 salacious sensation, and its advertising pages will be barred 
 to vice, liquor, tobacco, and drugs." 
 
 "Good!" cried Carmen. "And now we've got to get right 
 down to business." 
 
 "Just so," said Hitt, rising. "It is my intention to issue the 
 Express one more week on its present basis, and then turn it 
 into a penny morning daily. I have seen and talked with its 
 staff. They're good men. I'm going to assume the manage- 
 ment myself, with you, Carmen, as my first assistant. Hay- 
 nerd will become city editor. Now, what suggestions have 
 you?" 
 
 "Oh, lots!" cried the girl enthusiastically. "But, first, how 
 far may I go?" 
 
 88 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "The limit," replied Hitt, rubbing his hands together. "You 
 are my brain, so to speak, henceforth. As to financial re- 
 sources, I am prepared to dump a hundred thousand dollars 
 right into the Express before a cent of revenue comes back." 
 
 "Another question, then: will you issue a Sunday edition?" 
 she asked. • 
 
 "For a while, yes," he said. "We'll see how it works, for 
 I have some ideas to try out." 
 
 "Well, then," resumed the girl eagerly, "I want this paper 
 to be for all the people; to be independent in the truest sense 
 of the term; and to be absolutely beyond the influence of po- 
 litical and religious sectarianism — ^you'll soon enough learn 
 what that will cost you — to be an active, constructive force in 
 this great city, and a patient, tireless, loving educator." 
 
 "Humph!" grunted Haynerd, although he was listening 
 very carefully. 
 
 "The Express will succeed," the girl went on, without notic- 
 ing him, "because our thought regarding it is successful. We 
 have already succeeded; and that success will be externalized 
 in our work. It makes no difference what the people may think 
 of us; but it makes a lot of difference what we think of them 
 and ourselves. Now, our program is unlimited. We assume 
 superiority over adverse conditions, and we claim success, be- 
 cause we know that these things are mental, and that they are 
 divinely ours. Lot's wife didn't have the sort of confidence 
 that wins — she looked back. Our bridges are burnt behind us 
 now. But there is- no doubt of the outcome. And so there is 
 no doubt lurking in us to take the edge off our efforts, is there? 
 The thought regarding the Express has not been timidly born 
 within us; it has come forth flashing vigor! Yes it has, Ned, 
 despite your doubts ! And we have within us a power mightier 
 than any force outside of us. That is the knowledge of infinite 
 mind's omnipotence, and our ability to use the Christ-principle 
 to meet every problem. Is it not so?" 
 
 Haynerd began to rouse up with a returning sense of con- 
 fidence. Hitt smiled and nodded to Carmen. The girl went on 
 riapidly and eagerly: 
 
 "We are going to give the people news from a new stand- 
 point, aren't we? We are not going on the assumption that 
 the report of mankind's errors is the report of real news. The 
 only thing that is really new is good. We'll report that. When 
 I was in Mr. Adams's office two items came in Over the 'phone. 
 One was the report of a jewel robbery, and the other was an 
 announcement of the draining by the Government of sub- 
 merged lands in Louisiana, so as to give an additional opportu- 
 nity to those seeking farms. Which item did Mr. Adams put 
 
 89 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 in bold type on the front page? The first, yes. I was unable to 
 locate the latter anywhere in the paper, although it was a 
 timely bit of news." 
 
 "Very true," replied Hitt. 
 
 "Now another thing," continued the girl, "I want the Sun- 
 day edition of the Express to contain a resume of the important 
 and vital news of the week, with the very clearest, most im- 
 partial and enlightening editorial comment upon it. This calls 
 for nice discrimination in the selection of those items for our 
 comment. It means, however, the best practical education for 
 the people. This was John Ruskin's idea, and certainly is a 
 splendid one. Still another thing, the Express will stand 
 shoulder to shoulder with the women for equal suffrage. Are 
 you agreed?" 
 
 "Most emphatically]" declared Hitt. "It is the women who 
 will clean up and regenerate this world, not the men. Reform 
 is now in the hands of the women. They have been held back 
 long enough. And India proves that backward women mean 
 a backward nation." . 
 
 "Then,", continued Carmen, "make a distinct Women's 
 Department in the Express, and put Miss Wall on the staff." 
 
 "Very well. Next?" inquired Hitt, smiling. 
 
 "A daily educational department for foreigners, our immi- 
 grants, giving them every possible aid in suggestions regarding 
 their naturalization, the languages, hotels, boarding houses, 
 employment, and so on." 
 
 "Done," said Hitt. "And what else?" 
 
 "The Express is going to maintain a social service, and 
 night schools. It is going to establish vacation and permanent 
 homes for girls. It is going to provide for vocational training. 
 It is going to establish a lecture bureau — for lectures on good. 
 It is going to build a model city for workingmen. Then it is 
 going to found a model city for everybody. It is going to estab- 
 lish clubs and meeting places for workingmen, places where 
 they may meet, and play games, and read, and have social in- 
 tercourse, and practical instruction. It is going to establish 
 the same for young boys. It is going to take the lead for civic 
 betterment in this city, and for child-welfare, and for — " 
 
 By this time Haynerd was sitting erect and staring in be- 
 wilderment at the girl. "What do you mean?" he sputtered. 
 "Aren't you vvandering somewhat beyond strict newspaper 
 limits? We are in the news business!" 
 
 "And haven',t I told you," returned the girl promptly, "that 
 the only thing new in this world is good? Our news is going 
 to be good news — the collection and dissemination of good to 
 all mankind. People who read our paper will no longer feel 
 
 90 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 that it is dangerous to be alive, but a glorious privilege. I am 
 simply laying out our program. And Mr. Hitt said I could go 
 the limit, you know." 
 
 Hitt had caught the girl's infectious enthusiasm, and his 
 face was beaming. 
 
 "That's it!" he exclaimed. "It's your unlimited thought. 
 Carmen, that we old dry-bones want! I understand you!" 
 
 "Of course you do!" she cried. "And so does dear old 
 protesting Ned. Why, what is money? What is anything in 
 this life, compared with real service to our fellow-men? The 
 Express is not in business to make money! It is in the busi- 
 ness of collecting and scattering the news of good. Its divi- 
 dends will be the happiness and joy it giyes to mankind. Will 
 it fail? It simply can't! For good is the greatest success 
 there is!" 
 
 It is likely that Hitt did not catch the full meaning of the 
 girl's words; and it is certain that Haynerd did not. But her 
 boundless enthusiasm did penetrate in large degree into their 
 souls, and they ceased to insist on the query, Will it pay? The 
 broader outlook was already beginning to return profits to 
 these men, as the newer definition of 'news' occupied their 
 thought. Fear and doubt fled. Seizing their hats, they bade 
 Carmen go with them to inspect the plant of the Express, and 
 meet its staff. 
 
 "There's a question I'd like to ask," said Haynerd, as they 
 pursued their way toward their recent purchase. "I want to 
 know what our editorial policy will be. Do we condone the 
 offenses of our grafters and spoilsmen by remaining silent re- 
 garding their crimes? Or do we expose them?" 
 
 "We will let their guilt expose and kill itself," quickly re- 
 turned Carmen. "How? Well, you will see." 
 
 A few minutes later they entered the gloomy, dust-laden 
 offices of the Express. HJtt's spirits sank again as he looked 
 about him. But Carmen seemed to suffer no loss of enthu- 
 siasm. After a mental appraisal of the dingy, uninviting en- 
 vironment she exclaimed: "Well, one nice thing about this 
 is that we don't have much to start with!" 
 
 Hitt reflected upon her cryptical remark, and then laughed. 
 
 Carlson joine.d them at this juncture. It was evident that 
 the sale of his plant had removed a heavy load from his 
 shoulders. 
 
 "My best reporter was out yesterday when you called," he 
 said, addressing Hitt. "He — ^well, he was a little the worse for 
 wear. But he's in now. Come into my office and I'll send 
 for him." 
 
 In a few minutes a tall, boyish fellow responded to the 
 
 91 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 editor's summons. He must have been well under twenty, 
 thought Hitt, marveling that so young, a man should be re- 
 garded as Carlson's best news gatherer. But his wonder grew 
 apace when the editor introduced him as Mr. Sidney Ames. 
 
 "Huh!" ejaculated Haynerd. "Know J. Wilton?" 
 
 The lad smiled pallidly, as he bent his gaze upon Carmen, 
 and addressed his reply to her. "My governor," he said lacon- 
 ically. 
 
 "The deuce he is!" returned Haynerd, beginning to bristle. 
 
 Carlson dismissed the reporter, and turned to the curious 
 group. 
 
 "The boy has the making of a fine newspaper man in him. 
 Has something of his father's terrible energy. But he's doomed. 
 Whiskey and morphine got him. He used to come down here 
 before his father threw him out. I let him write little articles 
 for the Express when he was barely sixteen years old; and 
 they were mighty good, too. But he got mixed up in some 
 scandal, and J. Wilton cut him off. The boy always did drink, 
 I guess. But since his family troubles he's been on the straight 
 road to the insane asylum. It's too bad. But you'll keep him, 
 I suppose?" 
 
 "Certainly not!" replied Haynerd aggressively. "His father 
 is no friend of mine, and — " 
 
 "We shall keep him," calmly interrupted Carmen. "His 
 father is a very good friend of mine." 
 
 Carlson looked from one to the other quizzically. "H'm!" 
 he mused. "Well," squinting over his glasses at the girl, "this 
 surely is woman's era, isn't it?" 
 
 ♦ •»♦•♦ 
 
 A week later the Express, scarcely recognizable in its clean, 
 fresh type and modest headlines, with its crisp news and well 
 written editorials, very unostentatiously made its entry -into 
 the already crowded metropolitan field. Few noticed it. Adams 
 picked it up and laughed, a short, contemptuous laugh. Fal- 
 lom glanced over it and wondered. J. Wilton Ames, who had 
 been apprised of its advent, threw it into the waste basket — 
 and then drew it out again. He re-read the editorial announc- 
 ing the policy of the paper. From that he began a careful 
 survey of the whole sheet. His eye caught an article on the 
 feminist movement, signed by Carmen Ariza. His lip curled, 
 but he read the article through, and finished with the mental 
 comment that it was well written. Then he summoned Wil- 
 lett. 
 
 "I want this sheet carefully watched," he commanded, 
 tossing the paper to his secretary. "If anything is noticed that 
 in any way refers to me or my intefests, call my attention to it 
 immediately," 
 
 92 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The secretary bowed and departed. A moment afterward 
 Henry Glaus, nominal head of the great Glaus brewing interests, 
 was ushered in. 
 
 "We licked 'em, Mr. Ames, we licked 'em!" cried the new- 
 comer, rushing forward and clasping the financier's hand. 
 "The city council last night voted against the neighborhood 
 saloon license bill! Lined up solidly for us! Fine, eh?" 
 
 "Yes," commented the laconic Ames. "Our aldermen are a 
 very intelligent lot of statesmen, Glaus, They're wise enough 
 to see that their jobs depend upon whiskey. It requires very 
 astute statesmanship, Glaus, to see that. But some of our 
 congressmien and senators have learned the same thing." 
 
 The brewer pondered this delphic utterance and scratched 
 his head. 
 
 "Well," continued Ames, "have you your report?" 
 
 "Eh? Yes, sure, Mr. Ames. Here." 
 
 Ames studied the document. Then he looked severely at 
 Glaus. "Sales less than last month," he remarked dryly. 
 
 "It's the local option law what done it, Mr. Ames," replied 
 the brewer apologetically. "Them women — " 
 
 "Bah! Let a few petticoats whip you, eh? But, anyway, 
 you don't know how to market your stuff. Look here, Glaus, 
 you've got to encourage the young people more. We've got 
 to get the girls and boys. If we get the girls, we'll get the boys 
 easily enough. It's the same in the liquor business as in cer- 
 tain others, Glaus, you've got to land them young." 
 
 "But, Mr. Ames, I can't take 'em and pour it down their 
 throats!" expostulated the brewer. 
 
 "You could if you knew how," returne'd Ames. "Why, man ! 
 if I had nothing else to do I'd just like to devote myself to the 
 sales end of the brewing business. I'd use mental suggestion 
 in such a way through adviertising that this country would 
 drown in beer! Beer is just plain beer to you dull-wits. But 
 suppose we convinced people that it was a food, eh? Adver- 
 tise a chemical. analysis of it, showing that it has greater nutri- 
 ment than beef. Gatch the clerks and poor stenographers that 
 way. Don't call it beer; call it Maltdiet, or something like 
 that. Why, we couldn't begin to supply the demand!" 
 
 "How would you advertise, Mr. Ames?" 
 
 "Billboards in every field and along all railroads and high- 
 ways; boards in every vacant lot in every town and city in the 
 country; electric signs everywhere; handbills; lectures — never 
 thought of that, did you? And samples — why, I'd put samples 
 into every house. in the Union! I'd give away a million barrels 
 of beer — and sell a hundred million as a result ! But I'd work 
 particularly with the young people. Work on them with litera- 
 
 .93 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ture and suggestion; they're more receptive than adults. The 
 hypnotism that works through suggestive advertising, Glaus, 
 is simply omnipotent! How about your newspaper contracts?" 
 
 "We have all the papers, excepting the Express, Mr. Ames." 
 
 "The Express?" Ames laughed. "Well, that's a new ven- 
 ture. You can afford to pass it Up. It's run by a college pro- 
 fessor and a doll-faced girl." 
 
 "But, Mr. Ames, our advertising manager tells me that the 
 publishers of the Express called a meeting of the managers of 
 all the other city papers, to discuss cutting out liquor adver- 
 tising, and that since then the rates have gone up, way up! 
 You see, the example set by the Express may — " 
 
 "Humph!" grunted Ames. Then he began to reflect. An 
 example, backed by absolute fearlessness — and he knew from 
 experience that the publishers of the Express were without 
 fear — well, it could not be wholly ignored, even if the new 
 paper had no circulation worth the name. 
 
 "Mr. Ames," resumed the brewer, "the Express is in every 
 newsstand in the city. All the boys are selling it. It's in every 
 hotel, in every saloon, in every store and business house here. 
 It's in the dives. It isn't sold, it's given away ! Where do they 
 get their money" 
 
 Ames himself wondered. And he determined to find out. 
 
 "Leave it to me, Glaus," he said at length, dismissing the 
 brewer. "I'll send for you in a day or so." 
 
 It was well after midnight when the little group assembled 
 in the dining room of the Beaubien cottage to resume their 
 interrupted discussions. Hitt and Haynerd were the last to 
 arrive. They found Doctor Morton eagerly awaiting them. 
 With him had come, not without some reluctance, his prickly 
 disputant. Reverend Patterson Moore, and another friend and 
 colleague. Doctor Siler, whose interest in these unique gather- 
 ings had been aroused by Morton. 
 
 "I've tried to give him a resume of our previous deductions," 
 the latter explained, as Hitt prepared to open the discussion. 
 "And he says he has conscientious scruples — if you know 
 what that means." 
 
 "He's a Philistine, that's all. eh?" offered Haynerd. 
 
 Doctor Siler nodded genially. "I am like my friend, Rever- 
 end Edward Hull, who sayS; — " 
 
 "There!" interrupted Morton. "Your friend has a life job 
 molding the plastic minds of prospective preachers, and he 
 doesn't want to lose the sinecure. I don't blame him. Got a 
 wife and babies depending on him. He still preaches hell-fire 
 and the resurrection of the flesh, doesn't he? Well, in that case 
 
 94 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ■we can dispense with his views, for we've sent that sort of 
 doctrine to the ash heap." 
 
 Reverend Moore opened his mouth as if to protest; but Hitt 
 prevented him by taking the floor and plunging at once into 
 his subject. "The hour is very late," he said in apology, "and 
 we have much ground to cover. Who knows when we shall 
 meet again?" 
 
 Carmen stole a hand beneath the table and grasped the 
 Beaubien's. Then all waited expectantly. 
 
 "As I sat in my ofBce this morning," began Hitt medita- 
 tively, "I looked often and long through the window and out 
 over this great, roaring city. Everywhere I saw tremendous 
 activity, frantic hurry, and nerve-racking strife. In the dis- 
 tance I marked the smoke curling upward from huge factories, 
 packing houses, and elevators. The incessant seething, the 
 rush and bustle, the noise, the heat, and dust, all spelled busi- 
 ness, an enormous volume of human business-^and yet, not one 
 iota of it contributed even a mite to the spiritual nature and 
 needs of mankind! 
 
 "I pondered this long. And then I looked down, far down, 
 into the streets below. There I saw the same diversified ac- 
 tivity. And I saw, too, men and women, rich and comfortable, 
 riding along happily in their automobiles, with not a thought 
 beyond their physical well-being. But, I asked myself, should 
 they not ride thus, if they wish? And yet, the hour will soon 
 come when sickness, disaster, and death will knock at their 
 'doors and sternly bid them come out. And then?" 
 
 "Just what I have sought to impress upon you whenever 
 you advanced your philosophical theories. Doctor," said Rever- 
 end Moore, turning to Morton. The doctor glowered back at 
 him without reply. Hitt smiled and went on. 
 
 "Now what should the man in the automobile do? Is there 
 anything he can do, after all? Yes, much, I think. Jesus told 
 such as he to seek first the kingdom of harmony — a demonstra- 
 ble understanding of truth. The automobile riding would fol- 
 low after that, and with safety. Why, oh, why, will we go on 
 wasting our precious time acquiring additional physical sensa- 
 tions in motor cars, amusement parks, travel, anywhere and 
 everywhere, instead of laboring first to acquire that real knowl- 
 edge which alone will set us free from the bitter woes of human 
 existence!" 
 
 "Jesus set us free, sir," interposed Reverend Moore sternly. 
 "And his vicarious atonement opens the door of immortality to 
 all who believe on his name." 
 
 "But that freedom, Mr. Moore, you believe will be acquired 
 only after death. I dispute that belief strenuously, But let us 
 
 95 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 return to that later. At present we see mankind laboring for 
 that which even they themselves admit is not meat. They 
 waste their substance for what is not bread. And why? Be- 
 cause of their false beliefs of God and man, externalized in a 
 viciously cruel social system; because of their dependence. upon 
 the false supports of materia medica, orthodox theology, man- 
 devised creeds, and human opinions. Is it not demonstrably 
 so? 
 
 "And yet, who hath believed our report? Who wants to? 
 Alas! men in our day think and read little that is serious; and 
 they reflect hardly at all upon the vital things of life. They 
 want to be let alone in their comfortable materialistic beliefs, 
 even though those beliefs rend them, rive them, rack and twist 
 them with vile, loathsome disease, and then sink" them into 
 hideous, worm-infested graves! The human mind does not 
 want its undemonstrable beliefs challenged. It does not want 
 the light of unbiased investigation thrown upon the views 
 which it has accepted ready-made from doctor and theologian. 
 Again, why? Because, my friends, the human mind is inert, 
 despite its seemingly tremendous material activity. And its 
 inertia is the result of its own self-mesmerism, its own servile 
 submission to beliefs which, as Balfour has shown, have grown 
 up under every kind of influence except that of genuine evi- 
 dence. Chief of these are the prevalent religious beliefs, which 
 we are asked to receive as divinely inspired." 
 
 Doctor Morton glanced at Reverend Moore and grinned. But 
 that gentleman sat stolid, with arms folded and a sgowl upon 
 his sharp features. 
 
 "Religion," continued Hitt, "is that which binds us to the 
 real. Alas ! what a farce mankind have made of it. And why? 
 Because, in its mad desire to make matter real and to extract 
 all pleasures from it, the human mind has tried to eliminate the 
 soul." 
 
 "We have been having a bad spell of materialism, that's 
 true," interposed Doctor Morton. "But we are progressing, 1 
 hope." 
 
 "Well," Hitt replied, "perhaps so. Yet almost in our own 
 day France put God out of her institutions ; set up and crowned 
 a prostitute as the goddess of reason; and trailed the Bible 
 through the streets of Paris, tied to the tail of an ass ! What 
 followed? Spiritual destitution. And in this country we have 
 enthroned so-called physical science, and, as Comte predicted, 
 are about to conduct God to the frontier and bow Him out with 
 thanks for His provisional services. With what result? As our 
 droll philosopher, Hubbard, has said, 'Once man was a spirit, 
 now he is matter. Once he was a flame, now he is a candle- 
 
 96 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 stick. Once he was a son of God, now he is a chemical formula. 
 Once he was an angel, now he is plain mud.' " 
 
 "But," exclaimed Reverend Moore, visibly nettled, "that is 
 because of his falling away from the Church — " 
 
 "My friend," said Hitt calmly, "he fell away from the Church 
 because he could not stagnate longer with her and be happy. 
 Orthodox theology has largely become mere sentimentalism. 
 The average man has a horror of being considered a namby- 
 pamby, religiously weak, wishy-washy, so-called Christian. It 
 makes him ashamed of himself to stand up in a congregation 
 and sing 'My Jesus, I love Thee,' and 'In mansions of glory and 
 endless delight.' What does he know about Jesus? And he 
 is far more concerned about his little brick bungalow and next 
 month's rent than he is about celestial mansions. And I don't 
 blame him. No; he leaves religion to women, whom he regards 
 as the weaker sex. He turns to the ephemeral wisdom of 
 human science — and, poor fool ! remains no wiser than before. 
 And the women? Well, how often nowadays do you hear the 
 name of God on their lips? Is He discussed in society? Is He 
 ever the topic of conversation at receptions and balls? No; 
 that person was right who said that religion 'does not rise to 
 the height of successful gossip.' It stands no show with the 
 latest cabaret dance, the slashed skirt, and the daringly sala- 
 cious drama as a theme of discourse. Oh, yes, we still maintain 
 our innumerable churches. And, though religion is the most 
 vital thing in the world to us, we hire a preacher to talk to us 
 once a week about it ! Would we hire men to talk once a week 
 to us about business? Hardly! But religion is far, far less 
 important to human thought than business — for the latter 
 means automobiles and increased opportunities for physical 
 sensation." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Hitt," objected Doctor Siler, "I am sure this is 
 pot such a godless era as you would make out." 
 
 "No," returned Hitt. "We have many gods, chief of whom 
 is matter. The world's acknowledged god is not spirit, despite 
 the inescapable fact that the motive-power of the universe is 
 spiritual, and the only action is the expression of thought. 
 
 "But now," he continued, "we have in our previous discus- 
 sions made some startling deductions, and we came to the con- 
 clusion that there is a First Cause, and that it is infinite mind. 
 But, having agreed upon that, are we now ready to admit the 
 logical corollary, namely, that there can be but one real mind? 
 For that follows from the premise that there is but one God 
 who is infinite." 
 
 "Then we do not have individual minds?" queried Miss 
 Wall. 
 
 52 97 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "We have but the one mind, God," he replied. "There are 
 not minds many. The real man retlects God, Human men 
 reflect the communal mortal mind, which is the suppositional 
 opposite of the divine mind that is God. I repeat, the so-called 
 human mind knows not God. It never sees even His manifes- 
 tations. It sees only its own interpretations of Him and His 
 manifestations. And these it sees as mental concepts. For 
 all things are mental. Could anything be plainer?" 
 
 "Wellf they might be," suggested Doctor Siler. 
 
 Hitt laughed. "Well then," he said, "if you will not admit 
 that all things are mental — including the entire universe — ^you 
 certainly are forced to admit that your comprehension of things 
 is mental." 
 . "Agreed," returned the doctor. 
 
 "Then you will likewise have to admit that you are not con- 
 cerned with things, but with your comprehension of things." 
 
 "H'm, well— yes." 
 
 "And so, after all, you deal only with mental things — and 
 everything is mental to you." 
 
 "But — ^whence the human mind? Did God create it?" con- 
 tinued Doctor Siler. "Did He, Mr. Moore?" 
 
 "The Bible states clearly that He created all things," re- 
 turned that gentleman a little stiffly. 
 
 "My friends," resumed Hitt very earnestly, "we are on the 
 eve of a tremendous enlightenment, I believe. And for that 
 we owe much to the so-called 'theory of suppositional opposites.' 
 We have settled to our satisfaction that, although mankind be- 
 lieve themselves to be dependent upon air, food, and' water for 
 existence, nevertheless they are really dependent upon some- 
 thing vastly finer, which is back of those things. That 'some- 
 thing' we call God, for it is good. Matthew Arnold said that the 
 only thing that can be verified about God is that He is 'the eter- 
 nal power that makes for righteousness.' Very well, we are. 
 almost willing to accept that alone — for that carries infinite 
 implications. It makes God an eternal, spiritual power, omnipo- 
 tent as an influence for good. It makes Him the infinite patron, 
 so to speak, of right-thinking. And we know that thought is 
 creative. So it makes Him the sole creative force. 
 
 "But," he continued, "force, or power, is not material. God 
 by very necessity is mind, including all intelligence. And His 
 operations are conducted according to the spiritual law of 
 evolution. Oh, yes, evolution is not a theory, it is a fact. God, 
 infinite mind, evolves, uncovers, reveals, unfolds. His number- 
 less eternal ideas. These reflect and manifest Him. The 
 greatest of these is the one that includes all others and ex- 
 presses and reflects Him perfectly. That we call man. That 
 
 98 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 is the man who was 'made' — revealed, manifested — in His 
 image and likeness. There is no other image and likeness of 
 God. Moreover, God has always existed, and always will. So 
 His ideas, including real man, have had no beginning. They 
 were not created, as we regard creation, but have been unfolded. 
 
 "All well and good, so far. But now we come to the peculiar 
 part, namely, the fact that reality seems always to have its 
 shadow in unreality. Every positive seems to have a negative. 
 The magnet has its opposite poles, one positive, the other nega- 
 tive. Jesus had his Nero. Truth has its opposing falsities. At 
 the lowest ebb of the world's morals appeared the Christ.. The 
 Christian religion springs from the soil of a Roman Emperor's 
 blood-soaked gardens. And so it goes. Harmony opposed by 
 discord. Errors hampering the solving of mathematical prob- 
 lems. Spirit opposed by matter. Which is real? That which 
 stands the test of demonstration as to permanence, I say with 
 Spencer. 
 
 "And now we learn that it is the communal mortal mind 
 that stands as the opposite and negative of the infinite mind 
 that is God, and that it is but a supposition, without basis of 
 real principle or fact. It has its law of evolution, too, and 
 evolves its types in human beings and animals, in mountain, 
 tree, and stream. All material nature, in fact, is but the mani- 
 festation, or reflection, of this communal mortal mind. 
 
 "But, though God had no beginning, and will have no end- 
 ing, this communal mortal mind, on the contrary, did have a 
 seeming beginning, and will end its psuedo-existence. It seem- 
 ingly began as a mental mist. It seemingly evolved form and 
 became active. It seemingly evolved its universe, and its earth 
 as its lower stratum. It made its firmament, and it gradually 
 filled its seas with moving things that manifested its idea of life. 
 Slowly, throughout inconceivable eons of time, it unrolled and 
 evolved, until at last, through untold generations of stupid, 
 sluggish, often revolting animal forms, it began to evolve a 
 type of mind, a crude representation of the mind that is God, 
 and manifesting its own concept of intelligence. That type 
 
 was primitive man. . , ■■ • » /^ 
 
 "Now what was this communal mortal mind doing.' Loun- 
 terfeiting divine mind, if I may so express it. Evolving crude 
 imitative types. But types that were without basis of principle, 
 and so they passed away— the higher forms died, the lower 
 disintegrated. Aye, death came into the world because of sin. 
 for the definition of sin is the Aramaic word which Jesus used, 
 translated 'hamartio,' which means 'missing the mark. Ihe 
 mortal mind missed the mark. And so its types died. And so 
 they still die to-day. Yes, sin came through Adam, for Adam 
 is the name of the communal mortal mind. 
 
 99 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "Well, ages and ages passed, reckoned in the human mind 
 concept of time. The evolution was continually toward a 
 higher and ever higher type. Why? The influence of divine 
 mind was penetrating it. Paleolithic man still died, because 
 he did not have enough real knowledge in his mortal mind to 
 keep him from missing the mark. He probably had no belief 
 in a future life, for lie did not bury his dead after the manner 
 of those who later manifested this belief. But, after the lapse 
 of centuries. Neolithic man was found manifesting such a be- 
 lief. What has happened? This: the mortal mind was trans- 
 lating, the divine idea of immortality into its own terms and 
 thus expressing it. 
 
 "Ages rolled on. The curtain began to rise upon what we 
 call human history. The idea of a power not itself began to 
 filter through the mist of mortal mind, and human beings felt 
 its influence, the influence that makes for righteousness. And 
 then, at last, through the mortal mind there began to filter the 
 idea of the one God. The people who best reflected this idea 
 •were the ancient Israelites. Th^y called themselves the 'cho- 
 sen' people. Their so-called minds were, as Carmen has ex- 
 pressed it, like window-panes that were a little cleaner than 
 the others. They let a bit more of the light through. God is 
 light, you know, according to the Scriptures. And little by 
 little they began to record their thoughts regarding their con- 
 cept of the one God. These writings became sacred to them. 
 And soon they were seeing their God manifested everywhere, 
 and hearing His voice in every sound of Nature. And as they 
 saw, they wrote. And thus began that strange and mighty 
 book, the Bible, the record of the evolution of the concept of 
 God in the human mind." 
 
 "Do you mean to say that the Bible was not given by inspira- 
 tion?" demanded Reverend Moore. 
 
 "No," replied Hitt. "This filtering process that I have been 
 speaking about is inspiration. Every bit of truth that comes to 
 you or me to-day comes by inspiration — the breathing in — ^of 
 the infinite mind that is truth. 
 
 "And so," he went on, "we have those reflections of the 
 communal mortal mind which we call the Israelites recording 
 their thoughts and ideas. Sometimes they recorded plain fact; 
 sometimes' they wrapped their moral teachings in allegories and 
 fables. Josephus says of Moses that he wrote some things 
 enigmatically, some allegorically, and the rest in plain words, 
 since in his account of the first chapter of Genesis and the 
 first three verses of the second he gives no hint of any mystery 
 at all.' But when he comes to the fourth verse of the second 
 chapter he says Moses, after the seventh day was over, began 
 
 100 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 to talk philosophically, and so he understood the rest of the 
 second and third chapters in some enigmatical and allegorical 
 sense. Quite so, it appears to me, for the writer, whoever he 
 was, was then attempting the impossible task of explaining the 
 enigma of evil, the origin of which is associated always with 
 the dust-man." 
 
 "You deny the truth of the account of the creation as given 
 in the second chapter of Genesis, do you?" asked Reverend 
 Moore. "You deny that man was tempted and fell?" 
 
 "Well," said Hitt, smiling, "of course there is no special 
 reason for denying that serpents may have talked, millions and 
 millions of years ago. In fact, they still have rudimentary 
 organs of speech — as do most animals. Perhaps they all talked 
 at one time. Snakes developed in the Silurian Era, some twenty 
 million years ago. In the vast intervening stretch of time 
 they may have lost their power to talk. But, as for the second 
 chapter of Genesis, Moses may or may not have written it. In- 
 deed, he may not have written the first. We do not know. The 
 book of Genesis shows plainly that it is a composite of several 
 books by various authors. I incline to the belief that some 
 more materialistic hand and mind than Moses's composed that 
 second chapter. However that may be, it is a splendid example 
 of the human mind's crude attempt to interpret the spiritual 
 creation in its own material terms. It in a way represents the 
 dawning upon the human mind of the idea of the spiritual 
 creation. For when finite sense approaches the infinite it must 
 inevitably run into diflBculties with which it can not cope ; it 
 must meet problems which it can not solve, owing to its lack 
 of a knowledge of the infinite principle involved. That's why 
 the world rejected the first account of the creation and ac- 
 cepted the second, snake-story, dust-man, apple tree, and all." 
 
 "Hitt!" exclaimed fiaynerd, his eyes wide agape. "You're 
 like a story-book ! Goon!" 
 
 "Wait!" interrupted Miss Wall. "We know that man ap- 
 peared on this earth in comparatively recent times. For mil- 
 lions and millions of years before he was evolved animals and 
 vegetables had been dying. Now was their death due to sin? 
 If so, whose?" 
 
 "Assuredly," returned Hitt. "Your difficulty arises from 
 the fact that we are accustomed to associate sin with human 
 personality. But remember, the physical universe has been 
 evolved from the communal mortal mind. It represents 'nega- 
 tive truth.' It has been dying from the very beginning of its 
 seeming, existence, for its seeming existence alone is sin. The 
 vegetables, the animals, and now the men, that have been 
 evolved from it, and that express it and reflect and manifest 
 
 101 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 it, must die, necessarily, because the so-called mind from which 
 thesy evolve is not based upon the eternal, immortal principle, 
 God. And so it and they miss the markj and always have done 
 so. You must cease to say. Whose sin? Remember that the 
 sin is inherent in the so-called mind that is expressed by things 
 material. The absence of the principle which is God is sin, ac- 
 cording to the Aramaic word, translated 'hamartio,' which 
 Jesus used. The most lowly cell that swam in the primeval 
 seas manifested the communal mortal mind's sin, and died as a 
 consequence." 
 
 "In other words, it manifested a supposition, as opposed to 
 truth?" 
 
 "Its existence was quite suppositional," replied Hitt. "It 
 did not manifest life^ but a material sense of existence. The 
 subjective always determines the objective. And so the com- 
 munal mortal mind, so-called, determined these first lowly ma- 
 terial and objective forms of existence. They were its phe- 
 nomena, and they manifested it. Different types now manifest 
 it, after long ages. But all are equally without basis of prin- 
 ciple, all are subject to the mortal law that everything material 
 contains within itself the elements for its own destruction, and 
 all must pass away. In our day we are dealing with the highest 
 type of mortal mind so far evolved, the human man. He, too, 
 knows but one life, human life, the mortal-mind sense of exist- 
 ence. His human life is demonstrably only a" series of states of 
 material consciousness, states of thought-activity. The classi- 
 fication and placing of these states of consciousness give him 
 his sense of time. The positing of his mental concepts give 
 him his sense of space. His consciousness is a thought-activity, 
 externalizing human opinions, ideas, and beliefs, not based on 
 truth. This consciousness — or supposititious human mind — is 
 very finite in nature, and so is essentially self-centered. It 
 attributes its fleshly existence to material things. It believes 
 that its life depends upon its fleshly body; and so it thinks 
 itself in constant peril of losing it. It goes further, and believes 
 that there are multitudes of other human minds, each having 
 its own human, fleshly existence, or life, and each capable of 
 doing it and one another mortal injury. It believes that it can 
 be deprived by its neighboring mortal minds of all that it 
 needs for its sustenarice, and that it can improve its own status 
 at their expense, and vice versa. It is filled with fears — not 
 knowing that God is infinite good-^and its fears become ex- 
 ternalized as disaster, loss, calamity, disease, and death at 
 last. Perhaps its chief characteristic is mutability. It has no 
 basis of principle to rest upon, and so it constantly shifts and 
 changes to accord with its own shifting thought. There is 
 
 102 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 nothing certain about it. It is here to-day, and gone to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "Pfetty dismal state of affairs!" Haynerd was heard to 
 mutter. 
 
 "Well, Ned," said Hitt, "there is this hope: human con- 
 sciousness always refers its states to something. And that 
 'something' is real. It is infinite mind, God, and its infinite 
 manifestation. The human mind still translates or interprets 
 God's greatest idea, Man, as 'a suffering, sinning, troubled 
 creature,' forgetting that this creature is only a mental concept, 
 and that the human mind is looking only at its own thoughts, 
 and that these thoughts are counterfeits of God's real thoughts. 
 
 "Moreover, though the human mind is finite, and can not 
 even begin to grasp the infinite, the 'divine mind has pene- 
 trated the mist of error. There is a spark of real reflection in 
 every mortal. That spark can be made to grow into a flame 
 that will consume all error and leave the real man revealed, a 
 consciousness that knows no evil. There is now enough of a 
 spark of intelligence in the human, so-called mind to enable it 
 to lay hold on truth and grow out of itself. And there is no 
 excuse for not doing so, as Jesus said. If he had not come we 
 wouldn't have known that we were missing the mark so ter- 
 ribly." 
 
 "Well," observed Haynerd, "after that classification I don't 
 see that we mortals have much to be puffed up about!" 
 
 "All human beings, or mortals, Ned," said Hitt, "are inter- 
 pretations by the mortal mind of infinite mind's idea of itself, 
 Man. These interpretations are made in the human mind, and 
 they remain posited there. They differ from one another only 
 in degree. All are false, and doomed to decay. How, then, 
 can one mortal look down with superciliousness upon another, 
 when all are in the same identical class?" 
 
 Carmen's thoughts rested for a moment upon the meaning- 
 less existence of Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, who had anchored her 
 life in the shifting sands of the flesh and its ephemeral joys. 
 
 "Now," resumed Hitt, "we will come back to the question of 
 progress. What is progress but the growing of the human 
 mind out of itself under the influence of the divine stimulus of 
 demonstrable truth? And that is made possible when we 
 grasp the stupendous fact that the human, mortal mind, in- 
 cluding its man, is absolutely unreal and non-existent! The 
 human man changes rapidly in mind, and, consequently, in its 
 lower stratum, or expression, the body. For that reason he need 
 not carry over into to-day the old, false beliefs which were 
 manifested by him yesterday. If he leaves them in the past, 
 they cease to be manifested in his present or future. Thus he 
 
 103 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 outgrows himself. Then, opening himself to truth, he lays off 
 the 'old man' and puts on the 'new.' He denies himself^denies 
 that there is any truth in the seeming reality of the mortal, 
 material self — as Jesus bade us do." 
 
 "He must make new thoughts, then?" said Miss Wall. 
 
 "No," replied Hitt. "Thought is not manufactured. God is 
 eternal mind. His ideas and the thoughts regarding them must 
 always have existed. His thoughts are infinite in number. He, 
 ,as mind, is an inexhaustible reservoir of thought. Now the 
 human, mortal mind interprets His thoughts, and so seems to 
 ma,nufacture new thought. It makes new interpretations, but 
 not new thoughts. When you hear people chatting, do you 
 think they are manufapturing new thought? Not a bit of it! 
 They are but reflecting, or voicing, the communal so-called 
 mortal mind's interpretations of God's innumerable and real 
 thoughts." 
 
 "And so," suggested Father Waite, "the more nearly cor- 
 rect our interpretations of His thoughts are, the nearer we 
 approach to righteousness." 
 
 "Just so," returned Hitt. "There exist all sorts of real 
 thoughts about God's ideas. And these are good and eternal. 
 But the human mind makes likewise all sorts of erroneous 
 translations of them. We shall solve our problem of existence 
 when we correctly interpret His thoughts, and use them only. 
 When the human mentality becomes attuned or accustomed to 
 certain thoughts, that kind flow into it readily from the com- 
 munal mortal mind. Some people think for years along cer- 
 tain erroneous or criminal lines. Their minds are set in that 
 direction, and invite such a flow of thought. But were they to 
 reverse the 'set,' there would be a very different and better re- 
 sulting externalization in health, prosperity, and morals." 
 
 "I think I see," said Miss Wall. "And I begin to glimpse the 
 true mission of Jesus, and why he was ready to give up every- 
 thing for it." 
 
 "Yes. And now a word further about the so-called mortal 
 mind. For, when we have collected and arranged all our 
 data regarding it, we will find ourselves in a position to begin 
 to work out-of it, and thereby truly work out our salvation, even 
 if with fear and trembling. I have said in a previous talk that, 
 judging by the deductions of the physical scientists, everything 
 seems about to leave the material basis and turn into vibrations, 
 and 'man changes with velocity' of these. They tell us that all 
 life depends upon water; that life began, eons ago, in the 
 primeval sea. True, the human sense of existence, as I have 
 said, began in the dark, primeval sea of mist, the deep and 
 fluid mortal mind, so-called. And that sense of existence most 
 
 104 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 certainly is dependent upon the fluid of mortal mind. Bichat 
 has said that 'life is the sum of the forces that resist death.' 
 Spencer has defined life as the 'continuous adjustment of in- 
 ternal to external relations.' Very good, as applied to the 
 human sense of life. The human mind makes multitudes of 
 mental concepts, and then struggles incessantly to adjust 
 itself to them, and at length gives up the struggle, hopelessly 
 beaten. Scientists tell us that life is due to a continuous series 
 of bodily ferments. The body is in a constant state of ferment, 
 and that gives rise to life. Good! We know that the human 
 mind is in a state of incessant ferment. The human mind is a 
 self-centered mass of writhing, seething, fermenting material 
 thought. And that fermentation is outwardly manifested in 
 its concept of body, and its material environment. The scien- 
 tists themselves are rapidly pushing matter back into the realm 
 of the human mind. Bodily states are becoming recognized as 
 manifestations of mental states — not vice versa, as has been 
 ignorantly believed for ages. A prominent physician told me 
 the other day that many a condition of nervous prostration 
 now could be directly traced to selfishness. We know that 
 hatred and anger produce fatal poisons. The rattlesnake is a 
 splendid example of that. I am told that its poison and the 
 white of an egg are formed of exactly the same amounts of the 
 same elements. The difference in effect is the thought lying 
 
 l)3.ck of 63.cll 
 
 "Well!" exclaimed Doctor Siler. "You don't pretend that 
 the snake thinks and hates — " 
 
 "Doctor," said Hitt, "for thousands upon thousands of years 
 the human race has been directing- hatred and fear thoughts 
 toward the snake. Is it any wonder that the snake is now 
 poisonous? That it now reflects back that poisonous thought 
 to mankind?" 
 
 "But some are not poisonous, you know." 
 
 "Can we say how l(9ng they have not been so, or how soon 
 our hatred will make them all poisonous? Do you know, 
 moreover, that sorrow, remorse, all emotions, in fact, affect 
 the perspiration that exudes from the human body? Do you 
 know that hatred will render human perspiration the deadliest 
 poison known to science? I am told that in a few minutes of 
 murderous hatred enough of this poisonous perspiration is 
 exuded from the human body to kill a man. And do you know 
 that the thought which manifests upon the body in such deadly 
 poison is just as deadly when sent into the mentality of a 
 human being? Think what the Church's deadly hatred of so- 
 called heretics has done in the last nineteen hundred years! 
 Why, millions have been killed by it alone! And in the name 
 of Christ! 
 
 105 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "But now," he said, consulting his watch, "I must go. Even 
 a newspaper man requires a little sleep. And I must make my 
 apology for occupying the floor to-night to the exclusion of you 
 all. I have gradually been filling up with these thoughts for 
 some weeks, and I had to let them out. Besides — " 
 
 "Mr. Hitt," interrupted Father Waite, "I shall soon be ready 
 to report on those questions of Bible research which you as- 
 signed to me." 
 
 "Ah, yes," replied Hitt. "Well, have yoti found that Jesus 
 really was an historical character, or not?" 
 
 "I think," said Carmen, "that he has found that it really 
 matters little whether there ever was such a person as the 
 human man Jesus. The Christ has always lived; and the 
 Christ-principle which the man Jesus is reported to have re- 
 vealed to the world is with us, here, now, and always. It is 
 the principle, rather than the man Jesus, that concerns us, is 
 it not?" 
 
 "Miss Carmen," interposed Reverend Moore, "Jesus was the 
 incarnate Son of God, and your remarks concerning him are — " 
 
 "Slow up, Pat!" interrupted Doctor Morton. "I'll fight that 
 out with you on the way home. Come, the meeting's ad- 
 journed." 
 
 "We will take up that question in our next discussion," said 
 Hitt. "But, wait; Carmen must give us just a short song, before 
 we part." 
 
 The girl went immediately to the piano. As she passed 
 Hitt, she squeezed his hand. A few minutes later the little 
 group dispersed, with the melody of the girl's voice trembling 
 in their souls. 
 
 CHAPTER 8 
 
 FOR several days Ames reflected, and waited. Judging by 
 the data which he was able to secure, the Express was 
 eating up money at a fearful pace. To continue at that 
 rate meant certain financial disaster in the near futjire. And 
 yet the publishers of the rejuvenated sheet seemed never to 
 count the cost of their experiment. Already they had begun 
 the introduction of innovations that were startling and even 
 mirth-provoking to staid, conservative publishers in the jour- 
 nalistic field. To survive the long period necessary for the 
 education of the public taste to such things as the Express 
 stood for demanded a source of income no less permanent than 
 La Libertad itself. But at this thought Ames chuckled aloud. 
 Then an idea occurred to him. The Beaubien, of course, in 
 
 106 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 her crippled financial condition was affording the Express no 
 monetary assistance. Carmen had nothing. Haynerd's few 
 thousands were long since dissipated. Hitt's income was meas- 
 ured. But — ah. Miss Wall! And her estate was handled by 
 Ames and Company! And handled, we may add, in such a 
 manner that Miss Wall knew naught regarding it, except that 
 she might draw upon it as one dips water from a hillside 
 spring. 
 
 Thus Ames reflected. And as he meditated upon the new 
 paper and its promoters, there gradually formed within him a 
 consuming desire to see again the fair young girl who had 
 drawn him so strongly, despite his mountainous wrath and 
 his flaming desire to crush her when she boldly faced him in 
 his own house on the night of his grand reception. Why had he 
 let her escape him then? He had been a fool! True, women 
 had meant little to him, at least in the last few years. But 
 this girl had seemed to. stir within him new emotions, or those 
 long slumbering. He knew not, coarsely materialistic as was 
 his current thought, that in him, as in all who came within the 
 radius of her pure affection, she had swept chords whose music 
 he had never heard before. 
 
 Days passed, while Ames still mused. And then one morn- 
 ing he took down the receiver and called up the office of the 
 Express. 
 
 No, Mr. Hitt was not there — ^but this was his assistant. 
 And: 
 
 "You didn't want to see Mr. Hitt, did you? You wanted to 
 see me. Well, you may come over." 
 
 Ames nearly dropped the receiver in his astonishment. In 
 the first place, the girl had read his thought; and in the second, 
 he was not accustomed to being told that he might go to see 
 people — they came cringing to him. 
 
 "You may come at twelve-fifteen," continued the clear, firm 
 voice. "And remain a half hour; I'm very busy." 
 
 Ames put down the instrument and looked about, thankful 
 that no one was there to comment on his embarrassment. Then 
 he leaned back in his chair and went slowly over in thought 
 the experiences of that eventful night in his house. Why, this 
 slip of a girl — a half-breed Indian at best — this mere baby — ! 
 But he glanced up at the great electric wall clock, and wished 
 it were then twelve-fifteen. 
 
 ****** 
 
 At noon Ames, jauntily swinging his light walking stick, 
 strolled casually into the office of the Express. His air was one 
 of supreme confidence in his own powers. He was super- 
 human, and he knew it. And the knowledge rendered him 
 
 107 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 unafraid of God, man, or beast. He had met and conquered 
 everything mundane, excepting this young girl. But that 
 thought was now delightful to him. In her he had unearthed 
 a real novelty, a ceaseless interest. She reminded him of a 
 beautiful kitten. She scratched and nettled him; but she was 
 as nothing in his grasp. 
 
 The first thing that impressed him on entering the office 
 was the air of prosperity which hung over the place. The en- 
 vironment, he mentally commented, was somewhat unusual for 
 a newspaper plant. Order, quiet, and cleanliness were domi- 
 nant notes in the prevailing harmony. He first walked back 
 into the pressroom to see if the same conditions prevailed there. 
 Then he retraced his steps, and at length came to a halt before 
 a door bearing the inscription, "Miss Ariza," on the glass. 
 Turning the knob, he peered curiously in. 
 
 The room was small, but light and airy; > Its furnishings 
 were new, and its walls had been freshly tinted. A few pictures 
 of good quality hung about them. ^ handsome rug lay upon 
 the floor. At the desk, bending over a new typewriter, sat 
 Carmen. 
 
 "I beg pardon," said Ames, hesitating in the doorway. 
 
 The girl glanced up quickly. "Oh, come in," she said. "1 
 was expecting you." 
 
 He entered and took the chair indicated. "You don't mind 
 if! finish this article, do you?" she said, bending again to her 
 work. "It's got to go to the compositors right away." 
 
 "Certainly^f— don't stop," replied Ames easily. "When we 
 talk I want your undivided attention." 
 
 "Oh, you're sure to get it," she returned, laughing. And 
 Ames wondered just what she meant. 
 
 He sat back in his chair and watched her closely. How 
 wondrous fair she was ! Yet, there was just a slight tint in her 
 skin, he thought. Perhaps the report that she was a mulatto 
 was not wholly unfounded, although the strain must have been 
 greatly mixed. How simply she was dressed. He remembered 
 her in her beautiful ball gown. He thought he preferred this. 
 How rapidly her fingers sped over the keys. And what fingers! 
 What a hand ! He wanted -to bend over and take it in his own. 
 Then he suddenly remembered what the Beaubien had once 
 told him— ^that she always seemed to be a better woman in this 
 girl's presence. But — ^what changes had come since then! 
 Gould he go on persecuting the harassed woman? But he 
 wouldn't, if^— 
 
 "There!" said the girl, with what seemed to be a little sigh 
 of relief. She pressed a button, and handed the typewritten 
 sheets to the boy who responded. Then, turning to Ames: 
 
 108 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "You've come to apologize, haven't you? But you needn't. 
 I'm not a bit offended. I couldn't be, you know." 
 
 Apologize! Well, he certainly had not had any such inten- 
 tion when he came in. In fact, he knew not just why he was 
 there. 
 
 "You see. Congressman Wales didn't vote for the unaltered 
 schedule. And so everything's all right, isn't it?" she went on 
 lightly. 
 
 Ames's face darkened. "No vote has been taken," he said, 
 a dull anger rising within him, 
 
 "Oh, you are mistaken," replied the girl. "The bill was 
 voted out of committee an hour ago. That's what I was writing 
 up. Here's the wire, showing the alterations made. Mr. Wales 
 voted for them." 
 
 Ames read the message, and handed it back. Beyond the 
 clouding of his features he gave no indication of his feelings. 
 
 "So, you see," continued the girl, "that incident is closed — 
 for all time, isn't it?" 
 
 He did not reply for some moments. Then: 
 
 "Rather odd, isn't it?" he commented, turning quite away 
 from that subject, and glancing about-, "that one with the high 
 ideals you profess should be doing newspaper work." 
 
 "Just the contrary," she quickly returned. "There is noth- 
 ing so practical as the ideal, for the ideal is the only reality." 
 
 "Well, just what, may I ask, are you trying to do here?" he 
 continued. 
 
 "Run a newspaper on a basis of practical Christianity," she 
 answered, her eyes dancing. "Just as all business will have to 
 be conducted some day." 
 
 He leaned back and laughed. 
 
 "It is funny, isn't it?" she said, "to the carnal mind." 
 
 The laughter abruptly ceased, and he looked keenly at her. 
 But there was no trace of malice in her fair face as she steadily 
 returned the look. 
 
 "Has it paid yet?" he asked in a bantering tone. 
 
 "Splendidly!" she exclaimed. 
 
 "H'm ! Well, I'll wager you won't get a dollar back on your 
 investment for years." 
 
 "A dollar! No, nor perhaps a penny! We are not meas- 
 uring our profits in money!" 
 
 "And your investment — let's see," he mused, trying to draw 
 her out. "You've put into this thing a couple of hundred 
 thousand, eh?" 
 
 She smiled. "I'll tell you," she said, "because money is the 
 only measure you have for estimating the worth of our t)toject, 
 Mr. Hitt has put more than that amount already into the Ex- 
 press." 
 
 109 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Well! well! Quite a little for you people to lose, eh?" 
 
 "You will have to change your tone if you remain here, Mr. 
 Ames," she answered quietly. "We talk only prosperity in this 
 office." 
 
 "Prosperity! In the face of overwhelming debts! That's 
 good!" he laughed. 
 
 She looked at him closely for a moment. "Debts?". she said 
 in a low voice. "You speak of debts? You who owe your fel- 
 low-men what you can never, never repay? Why, Mr. Ames, 
 there is no man in this whole wide world, I think, who is so 
 terribly, hopelessly in debt as you!" 
 
 "I? My dear girl! Why, I don't owe a dollar to any man!" 
 
 "No?" she queried, bending a little closer to him. "You do 
 not owe Madam Beaubien the money you are daily filching from 
 her? You do not owe poor Mr. Gannette the money and free- 
 dom of which you xobbed him? You do not owe anything to 
 the thousands of miners and mill hands who have- given, and 
 still give, their lives for you? You do not owe for the life which 
 you took from Mrs. Hawley-Crowles? You do not owe for the 
 souls which you have debauched in your black career? For 
 the human wreckage which lies strewn in your wake? You 
 do not owe Mr. Haynerd for the Social Era which you stole 
 from him?" 
 
 Ames remained rigid and quiet while the girl spoke. And 
 when she had finished, and they sat looking squarely into each 
 other's eyes, the silence was like that which comes between the 
 sharp click of lightning and the crash of thunder which fol- 
 lows. If it had been a man who thus addressed him, Ames 
 would have hurled him to the floor and trampled him. As it 
 was, he rose slowly, like a black storm-cloud mounting above 
 the horizon, and stood over the girl. 
 
 She looked up into his face dauntlessly and smiled. "Sit 
 down," she quietly said. "I've only begun. Don't threaten, 
 please," she continued. "It wouldn't do any good, for I am 
 not a bit afraid of you. Sit down." 
 
 A faint smile began to play about Ames's mouth. Then he 
 twitched his shoulders slightly. "I— I got up," he said, with an 
 assumption of nonchalance, "to— to read that— ah^ that motto 
 over there on the wall." He went slowly to it and, stooping, 
 read aloud: 
 
 "Lift up the weak, and cheer the strong. 
 Defend the truth, combat the wrong! 
 You'll find no scepter like the pen 
 To hold and sway the hearts of men." 
 
 "That was written by your Eugene Field," offered the girl. 
 **Now read the one on the opposite side. It is your Tekel Up- 
 harsin." 
 
 110 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 He went to the one she indicated, and read the spiritual ad- 
 monition from Bryant: 
 
 '.'Leave the vain, low strife 
 Tliat makies men mad — the tug for wealth and power — 
 The passions and the cares that wither life, 
 And waste Its little hour." 
 
 "Now," continued the girl, "that is only a suggestion to 
 you of the real handwriting on the wall. I put it there pur- 
 posely, knowing that some day you would come in here and 
 read it." 
 
 Ames turned and looked at her in dumb wonder, as if she 
 were some uncanny creature, possessed of occult powers. Then 
 the significance of her words trickled through the portals of 
 his thought. 
 
 "You mean, I suppose," he said, "that if I am not persuaded 
 by the second motto I shall feel the force of the first, as it sways 
 you, eh?" 
 
 "I mean, Mr. Ames," she replied steadily, "that the world 
 is entering upon a new era of thought, and that your carnal 
 views and methods belong to a day that is past. This century 
 has no place for them; it wearies of the things you represent; 
 you are the epitome of that evil which must have its little hour 
 of night before the reality dawns." 
 
 He regarded her.intently for some moments. "Am I to un- 
 derstand," he asked, "that the Express, under its new manage- 
 ment, is about to turn muck-raker, and shovel mud at us men 
 of wealth?" 
 
 "We are not considering the Express now, Mr. Ames," she 
 replied. "It is I alone who am warning you." 
 
 "Do Hitt and Haynerd bring against me the charges which 
 you voiced a moment ago? And do you intend to make the 
 columns of your paper spicy with your comments on my char- 
 acter and methods? I verily believe you are declaring war!" 
 
 "We are in the business of declaring truth, Mr. Ames," she 
 said gently. "The Express serves all people. It will not shield 
 you when you are the willing tool of evil, nor will it condone 
 your methods at any price." 
 
 "War, eh? Very well," he replied with a bantering smile. 
 "I came over here this noon to get the policy of your paper. 1 
 accept your challenge." 
 
 "Our challenge, Mr. Ames," she returned, "is the challenge 
 which evil always finds in good. It is perpetual." 
 
 "Fine!" he exclaimed. "I like a good enemy, and an honest 
 one. All right, marshal your forces. Who's your general, 
 Hitt or Haynerd?" 
 
 "God," she answered simply. 
 
 Ill 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 For an instant the man was taken back. Then he recovered 
 himself, and laughed. 
 
 "Do you know," he said, bending close to her, "I admire 
 you very much. You are a splendid little fighter. Now let's 
 see if we can't get together on terms of peace. The world 
 hasn't used you right, and I don't blame you for being at odds 
 with it. I've wanted to talk with you about this for some time. 
 The pin-headed society hens got jealous and tried to kill you. 
 But, if you'll just say the word, I'll set you right up on the 
 very pinnacle of social prestige here. I'll take you by the hand 
 and lead you down through the whole crowd of 'em, and 
 knock 'em over right and left ! I'll make you the leading wom- 
 an of the city; I'll back the Express; we'll make it the biggest 
 newspaper in the country; I'll make you and your friends rich 
 and powerful; I'll put you in the place that is rightfully yours, 
 eh? Will you let me?" 
 
 He was bending ever nearer, and his hand closed over hers 
 when he concluded. His eyes were looking eagerly into her 
 face, and a smile, winning, enticing, full of meaning, played 
 about his lips. His voice had dropped to a whisper. 
 
 Carmen returned his smile, but withdrew her hand. "I'll 
 join you," she said, "on one condition." 
 
 "Name it!" he eagerly cried. 
 
 "That you obey me." 
 
 "Well — and what does that mean?" 
 
 "Go; sell that thou hast; and give to the poor. Then come, 
 take up the cross, and follow — my leader." 
 
 He straightened up, and a sneer curled his lips. "I sup- 
 pose," he coarsely insinuated, "that you think you now have 
 material for an illuminating essay on my conversation." 
 
 "No," she said gently. "It is too dark to be illuminating." 
 
 The man's facial muscles twitched slightly under the sting, 
 but he retained his outward composure. "My dear girl," he 
 said, "it probably has not occurred to you that the world re- 
 gards the Express as utterly without excuse for existence. It 
 says, and truly, that a wishy-washy sheet such as it, with its 
 devitalized, strained, and bolted reports of the world's vivid 
 happenings, deserves to go under from sheer lack of interest. 
 The experiment has been tried before, and has signally failed. 
 Money alone can keep your paper alive. But, say the word, 
 arid—" 
 
 "And your money, as well as your business ideals, will be 
 ours?" she concluded for him. 
 
 He smiled and nodded. 
 
 "Mr. Ames," she said, "you have no ideals. No man who 
 amasses millions by taking advantage of the world's inhuman 
 
 112 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 and pernicious social jsystem can have ideals worthy of the 
 name. To apply your methods, your thought, to the Express 
 would result in sinking its moral tone into the dust. As for 
 your money — " 
 
 "Commit suicide, then!" cried the man, yielding to his ris- 
 ing anger. "Let the Express go down, carrying you and your 
 spineless associates with it! But, remember, you will be the 
 sole cause of its ruin, and theirs!" 
 
 Carmen rose quietly and opened the oflSce door. "Your half 
 hour is up, Mr. Ames," she said, glancing at the little clock on 
 her desk; "and I must return to my work." 
 
 For a moment the huge man stood looking down darkling 
 upon the girl. He would have given his soul if he could have 
 clasped that slender form in his arms! A sudden impulse 
 assailed him, and bade him fall upon his knees before her, and 
 ask her forgiveness and guidance. She stood waiting — perhaps 
 just for that, and always with that same smile into which no 
 one had ever yet read aught but limitless love. 
 
 The telephone bell rang sharply. Carmen hastened to 
 answer the call. 
 
 "Oh, yes, Mr. Hitt. Yes — yes — the cotton schedule was re- 
 ported out quite changed — ^yes, an hour ago!" 
 
 When she looked up, she was alone. 
 
 * « « * ' * * 
 
 "Dearie," said the Beaubien at evening, as Carmen seated 
 herself in that woman's lap and wound her arms about her 
 neck, "I am afraid for you." 
 
 "Well, mother dearest," replied the girl, giving her a tighter 
 squeeze, "that is a sheer waste of time. If you haven't anything 
 more to occupy you than fear, you'd better come down to the 
 oflBce, and I'll set you to work." 
 
 "But — ^you have defied him — as he says, declared war — " 
 
 "No, dearest, not that. It is the carnal mind, using him as 
 a channel, that has declared war against good. But evil is 
 not power; nor has it been given power by God. My one 
 thought is this : Am I doing that which will result in the great- 
 est good to the greatest number? Am I loving my neighbor 
 as myself? Serving as I would be served? Not as evil would 
 want to be served, but as good. If my mental attitude is right, 
 the.n God's law becomes operative in all that I do, and I am 
 protected. Don't you see?" 
 
 "I know, dearie, but — there's the telephone ! Oh, I do hope 
 they don't want you!" 
 
 Carmen answered the call, and returned with the announce- 
 ment that Haynerd was in distress. "Sidney Ames is — not 
 there," she said. "He was to report a meeting. Mr. Haynerd 
 wanted Lewis. Now don't worry, dearest; I — I won't go alone." 
 
 113 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The girl had taken her coat and hat. A moment later she 
 gave the Beaubien a kiss, and hurried out into the night. In 
 half an hour she stood at Haynerd's desk. 
 
 "What are we going to do?" moaned that perturbed indi- 
 vidual. "Here I am, tied down, depending on Sid, and he's 
 drunk!" 
 
 "Well, I'm here. What's the assignment?" 
 
 Haynerd looked up at her, and hesitated. "Mass meeting, 
 over on the East Side. Here's the address," taking up a slip 
 of paper. "Open meeting, I'm told; but I suspect it's an 
 I. W. W. affair. Hello!" he said, replying to a telephone call. 
 "What's that? The Ames mills at Avon closed down this 
 afternoon? What's reason? Oh, all right. Call me in an 
 hour." 
 
 He hung up the receiver and turned to Carmen. "That's 
 what this meeting is about," he said significantly. "Four thou- 
 sand hands suddenly thrown out at the Avon mills. Dead of 
 winter, too!" 
 
 Sidney Ames slouched into the editor's office and sank 
 heavily into a chair. Haynerd gave a despairing gesture. 
 "Look here," he said, in sudden desperation, "that fellow's got 
 to be sobered up, now! Or else — " 
 
 Another call came, this time from the Beaubien. Father 
 Waite had just come in. Could he take the assignment? Hay- 
 nerd eagerly gave the address over the 'phone, and bade him 
 start at once. 
 
 "Now," he said, nodding at Carmen, and jerking his thumb 
 over his shoulder toward the intoxicated reporter, "it's up to 
 you." 
 
 Carmen rose at once and went to the lad. "Come, Sidney," 
 she said, taking his hand. 
 
 The boy roused dully, and shuffled stupidly after the girl 
 into her own little office. 
 
 Carmeil switched on the lights and closed the door. Then 
 she went to the limp, emaciated form crumpled up in a chair, 
 and sat down beside it. 
 
 "Sidney," she said, taking his hand, "there is but one habit 
 —the habit of righteousness. That is the habit that you are 
 going to wear now." 
 
 Outside, the typewriters clicked, the telephones tinkled, 
 and the linotypes snapped. There were quick orders; men 
 came and went hurriedly; but there was no noise, no confusion, 
 Haynerd toiled like a beaver; but his whole heart was in his 
 work. He had found his niche. Carmen's little room voiced 
 the sole discordant note that night. And as the girl sat there, 
 holding the damp hand of the poor victim, she thanked her 
 
 114 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 God that the lad's true individuality was His pure thought of 
 
 him. 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 At dawn Sidney Ames awoke. A rosy-tinted glow lay over 
 the little room, and the quiet form at his side seemed an 
 ethereal presence. A gentle pressure from the hand that still 
 clasped his brought a return of his earthly sense, and he 
 roused up. 
 
 "Miss Carmen! You—?" 
 
 "Yes, Sidney." The gentle voice sounded to him like distant 
 music. 
 
 "I — ^you — ^you brought me in here last night — ^but — " His 
 hands closed about the little one that lay in his grasp. "You — 
 haven't sat here — with me — all night?" 
 
 "Yes, Sidney, all night." 
 With a low moan the boy buried his face in her arms, and 
 burst into a flood of bitter tears. 
 
 "It isn't real, Sidney," she whispered, twining an arm about 
 his neck. "It isn't real." 
 
 For some moments the lad sobbed out his shame and 
 misery. Carmen stroked his fair hair, and drew him closer to 
 her, while tears of love and pity coursed down her own cheeks. 
 
 Then, suddenly, the boy started up. "Don't touch me!" he 
 cried, struggling to his feet, while his eyes shone with a wild 
 light. 
 
 He started for the door, but Carmen darted past him and 
 stood with her back against it, facing him. "Stop, Sidney!" 
 she cried, holding her hands against him. "It can't drive you ! 
 It is powerless! God reigns here!" 
 
 She turned the lock as he hesitated ; then took his arm and 
 led him, trembling and shivering, back to his chair. 
 
 "We are going to meet this, Sidney, you and I," she whis- 
 pered, bending over the shaking form. 
 
 The suffering lad shook his head and buried his face in his 
 hands. "You can't," he moaned; "you can't — I'm gone!" His 
 voice died into a tremble of hopeless despair, of utter surrender. 
 
 Carmen bit her lip. She had faced many trying situations 
 in her brief life-experience; but, though she met it with daunt- 
 less courage and knew its source, the insidious suggestion now 
 persisted that the eyes of her people were upon her, and that 
 by this would stand or fall their faith. Aye, the world was 
 watching her now, keen-eyed and critical. Would she give it 
 cause to say she could not prove her faith by her works? 
 
 And then came' the divine message that bade her "Know 
 that I am God!" — that bade her know that responsibility lay 
 not upon her shoulders, but upon the Christ for whom she was 
 
 115 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 now called to witness. To see, or permiti the world to see, this 
 mountainous error, this heaped-up evil, as real and having 
 power, meant a denial of the Christ and utter'defeat. It meant 
 a weary retracing of her own steps, and a long night of spiritual 
 darkness to those whose eyes had been upon. her. 
 
 "Sidney," she said, turning to the sunken boy at her side, 
 "you are right, the old man is gone. And now we are going 
 to create 'new heavens and a new earth, and the former shall 
 not be remembered nor come into mind' — as thought. Under- 
 neath are the everlasting arms, and you have sunk down, down, 
 down, until at last you rest upon them, and you find that you 
 haven't sunk at all, and that you couldn't possibly get away 
 from that infinite Love that is always, drawing you to itself!" 
 
 She put her arm again about the lad, and drew him toward 
 her. "Listen, Sidney dear, I am standing with you — and with 
 me is omnipotent God ! His arm is not shortened; that, it can 
 not save you from the pit of spiritual oblivion into which 
 human thought would seem to make you think you had fallen, 
 engulfed by the senses." 
 
 The boy raised his head and looked at her through his 
 bloodshot eyes. "You don't know!" he whispered hoarsely; 
 "you don't understand — " 
 
 "It is just because I do understand, Sidney, that I am able 
 to help you," she interrupted quickly. "I understand it all.", 
 
 "It — it isn't only whiskey — it's — " his head sank again — 
 "it's — morphine! And — God! it's got me!" 
 
 "It's got the false thought that seems to call itself 'you,'" 
 she said. "Well, let it have it! They belong togeither. Let 
 them go. We'll cling to them no longer, but shake them off 
 for good. For good, I said, Sidney — and that means, for God!" 
 
 "God?" he echoed. "I know no God! If there were a God, 
 I shouldn't be where I am now." 
 
 "Then I will know it for you," she softly answered. "And 
 you are now right where you belong, in Him. And His love 
 is about you." 
 
 "Love!" He laughed bitterly. "Love! I never knew what 
 it meant. My parents didn't teach it to their children. And 
 when I tried to learn, my father kicked me into the street!" 
 
 "Then, Sidney, I'll teach you. For I am in the world just 
 to show what love will do," 
 
 "My father— it's his fault— all his fault!" cried the boy, 
 flaring up and struggling to rise. "God! I hate him — hate him! 
 It's his fault that I'm a sot and a drug fiend!" 
 
 "It is hate, Sidney, that 'manifests in slavery^ in sodden 
 brains, and shaking nerves. You don't hate your. father; the 
 hate is against your thought of hira; and that thought is all 
 wrong. We're going to correct, it." 
 
 116 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "I used to drink^some, when I lived at home," the boy 
 went dn' still dwelling on the thoughts that held him chained. 
 "But he could have saved me. And then I fell in love — I 
 thought it was love, but it wasn't. The woman was — she was 
 years older than I. When she left the city, I followed her. 
 And when I found out what she was, and came back home, my 
 father threw me out — ^cut me off — God!" 
 
 "Never mind, Sidney," 'the girl whispered. "It isn't true 
 anyway." But she realized that the boy must voice the thoughts 
 that were tearing his very soul, and she suffered him, for it 
 uncovered to her the hidden sources of his awful malady. 
 
 ' "And then I drank, drank, drank!" he moaned. "And I 
 lay in the gutters, and in brothels, and — then, one day, Carlson 
 told me to come and work for him. He thought I could 
 Straighten up. And so I went to a doctor, and he — God curse 
 him !— rhe inj ected morphine into my arm to sober me. And 
 that taught me that I could drink all I wanted to, and sober up 
 on morphine. But then I learned — I found — " 
 
 He stopped, and began to fumble in his pockets. His eyes 
 became wilder as he searched. 
 
 "Where is it?" he cried, turning fiercely upon the girl. "Did 
 you take it from me? Give it to me — quick!" He caught her 
 wrist and twisted it painfully, His voice became a scream. 
 
 "God is everywhere !" flashed through the girl's thought. 
 "I am not afraid to see evil seem to have power!" Then aloud: 
 "I know what you are searching for, Sidney. Yes, I have it. 
 Listen, and I will give it to you. You are searching for help. 
 No, it isn't in morphine tablets. It is in love — right here — the 
 Christ-principle, that is bigger far than the demons that seem 
 to tear you! I have aZZ power from God, and you, evil, can not 
 touch me!" 
 
 The boy started at the ringing voice, and loosened his grasp. 
 Then he sank back into his chair, shaking as with palsy. 
 
 "Sidney!" she cried, seizing his hand. "Rise, and stand 
 with me ! We don't have to struggle — we don't have to fight 
 —we only have to know. All that you are wrestling with is 
 the world-wide belief that there is a power apart from God! 
 There is none! Any claim that there is such a power is a lie! 
 I have proved it! You and I will prove it again! There is no 
 power or intelligence in whiskey or morphine! I have been 
 sent to help you! The Christ-jprinciple will save you! There 
 is nothing beyond its reach, not even your problem! 
 
 "It is a problem, that's all, Sidney," she went on, as he 
 became calmer. "And I have the solution. Will you put your- 
 self in my charge, in my care, and let me meet it for you?" 
 She bent over him and looked eagerly into his drawn face. 
 
 117 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "We are not going to fight," she continued. "We are not 
 going to resist evil as the world does, and so make it real. I 
 know, dear, just how pressing your need is. I knowj and I 
 understand. I know how awfully real it seems to you. But 
 trust me, as I trust the Christ. For victory is inevitable!" 
 
 For a few moments they sat together, hand in hand. The 
 boy seemed to have been stunned. Then Carmen rose. "Come," 
 she said. "I am going to take you home with me. I am going 
 to keep you right with me, right under my thought. I'm going 
 to be the mirror, constantly with you, that reflects infinite love 
 to you every moment. Come; your problem is mine now. The 
 burden of proof rests upon me. Don't think of anything else 
 now, excepting that God has your hand and is leading you." 
 
 She took his arm and drew him, unresisting, yet uncompre- 
 hending, to the door. As she opened it, she looked up into his 
 face and smiled. The boy choked, and turned back. 
 
 "No!" she cried, shifting her grasp to his hand. "No; you 
 are mine now ! And I shall not turn you over to yourself again 
 until the problem is solved!" 
 
 Hitt met them as they came out of the room. "Well,", he 
 said, "I've kept Madam Beaubien informed as well as I could. 
 But she's been worried. Where are you going?" 
 
 "Home," she said simply. "We'll be back at three — ^per- 
 haps." 
 
 K * * -ft * * 
 
 But at three that afternoon the Beaubien telephoned to Hitt 
 that Carmen would not be down. 
 
 "She will not leave the boy," the woman said. "She holds 
 him — I don't know how. And I know he is trying desperately 
 to help her. But — I never saw any one stand as she does! 
 Lewis is here, but he doesn't interfere. We're going to put a 
 bed in his room, and Sidney will sleep there. Yes, I'll keep 
 you informed. Tell Ned, won't you?" 
 
 Haynerd stormed; but the tempest was all on the surface. 
 "I know, I know," he said, in reply to Hitt's explanation. "That 
 boy's life is more to her than a million newspapers, or anything 
 else in the universe just at present. She'll win! The devil 
 can't look her in the face ! I — I wish I were — What are you 
 standing there for? Go 'long and get to work!" 
 
 In the little Beaubien cottage that afternoon the angry 
 waves of human fear, of human craving, of hatred, wrath, and 
 utter misery mounted heaven-high, and fell again. Upon them 
 walked the Christ. As the night-shadows gathered, Sidney 
 Ames, racked and exhausted, fell into a deep sleep. Then 
 Carmen left his bedside and went into the little parlor, where 
 sat the Beaubien and Father Waite. 
 
 118 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "Here," she said, handing a hypodermic needle and a vial 
 of tablets to the latter. "He didn't use them. And now," she 
 continued, "you must work with me, and stand — firm! Sid- 
 ney's enemies are those of his own mental household. It is 
 our task to drive them out. We have got to uproot from his 
 consciousness the thought that alcohol and drugs are a power. 
 Hatred and self-condemnation, as well as self-love, voiced in 
 a sense of injury, are other mental enemies that have got to be 
 driven out, too. There is absolutely no human help! It is all 
 mental, every bit of it ! You have got to know that, and stand 
 with me. We are going to prove the Christ-principle omnipo- 
 tent with respect to these seeming things. 
 
 "But," she added, after a moment's pause, "you must not 
 watch this error so closely that it can't get away. Don't watch 
 it at all ! For if you do, you make a reality of it — and then, 
 well—" 
 
 "The case is in your hands. Carmen," said Father Waite 
 gently. "We know that Jesus would cure this boy instantly, 
 if he were here — " 
 
 "Well — the Christ is here!" cried the girl, turning upon 
 him. "Put away your 'ifs' and 'huts.' Stand, and know I" 
 
 The man bowed before the rebuke. "And these," he said, 
 holding out the needle and vial, "shall we have further use 
 for them?" 
 
 "It will be given us what we are to do and say," she re- 
 turned. "The case rests now with God." 
 
 CHAPTER 9 
 
 FOUR weeks from that crisp morning when Carmen led the 
 bewildered, stupified lad to her home, she and Sidney sat 
 out upon the little porch of the cottage, drinking in the 
 glories of the winter sun. January was but half spent, and the 
 lad and girl were making the most of the sudden thaw before 
 the colder weather which had been predicted might be upon 
 them. 
 
 What these intervening weeks had been to Carmen, none 
 might have guessed as she sat there with the sunlight filtering 
 in streamlets of gold through her brown hair. But their mean- 
 ing to the boy might have been read with ease in the thin, 
 white face, turned so constantly toward his fair companion. 
 They were deeply, legibly written there, those black nights, 
 when he would dash out into the hall, determined to break 
 through the windows of the nearest dram shop and drink, 
 
 119 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 drink, drink, until the red liquor burst from his eyes, his 
 mouth, his nostrils ! Those ghastly nights, wjien Carmen 
 ■would stand before him, her arms outspread across the door, 
 and beat back the roaring devils within him! Those long 
 days of agonized desire for the vicious drug which had sapped 
 his manhood ! Those fell hours, when low curses poured from 
 his burning lips upon her and upon all mankind! Those cold, 
 freezing sweats, and the dry, cracking fever! Those hours 
 when, with Carmen always by his side, he tramped mile after 
 mile through drifts and ice, until he dropped at length from 
 sheer exhaustion, only to awake, hours later, to find that the 
 girl had brought him home, safe, unharmed!^ — 
 
 And then, oh, the "Peace, be still !" which he began to hgar, 
 faint at first, but growing in volume, until, at last, it became 
 a mighty, thunderous command, before which the demons 
 paled and slunk away, never to return I Oh, the tears of agony 
 that had given way to tears of joy, of thanksgiving! Oh, the 
 weakness that had been his strength! And, oh, the devotion 
 of this fair girl — aye, and of her associates, too — ^but all through 
 her! Had she proved her God before the eyes of the world? 
 That she had! Day after day, clad in the impenetrable armor 
 of her love, she had stood at this struggling lad's side, meeting 
 the arrows of death with her shield of truth ! Night after night 
 she had sat by his couch, her hand crushed in his desperate 
 grasp, flouting the terror that stalked before his delirious 
 gaze! What work she had done in those long weeks, none 
 would ever know; but the boy himself knew that he had 
 emerged from the valley of the shadow of death with a new 
 mind, and that she had walked with him all the dark, cloud- 
 hung way. 
 
 As they sat there in the bright sunlight that morning, their 
 thought was busy with the boy's future. Old plans, old am- 
 bitions, had seemed to lift with the lifting of the mortal curse 
 which had rested upon him, and upward through the ashes 
 of the past a tender flower of hope was pushing its way. He 
 was now in a new world. The last tie which* bound him to his 
 family had been severed by his own father two weeks before, 
 when the shadow of death fell athwart his mother's brilliant 
 path. Mrs. J. Wilton Ames, delicate in health when recalled 
 from abroad, and still suffering from the fatigue of the deadly 
 social warfare which had preceded her sudden flight from her 
 husband's consuming wrath, had failed to rally from the indis- 
 position which seized her on the night of the grand Ames 
 reception. For days she slowly faded, and then went quickly 
 down under a sharp, withering attack of pneumonia. A few 
 brief weeks after the formal opening of the Ames palace its 
 
 120 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 mistress had sighed away her blasted hopes, her vain desires, 
 her petty schemes of human conquest and revenge, and had 
 gone to face anew her problems on another plane of mortal 
 thought. It was rumored by the servants that, in her last 
 hours, when she heard the rustle of the death angel's wings 
 beside her, a great terror had stricken her, and she had called 
 wildly for that son whom she had never cared to know. It was 
 whispered that she had begged of her husband to seek the lad 
 and lead him home; that she had pleaded with him to strive, 
 with the boy, to find the better things of life; that she had 
 begged him to warn and be warned of her present sufferings, 
 as she lay there, stripped of every earthly aid, impoverished in 
 heart, in soul, in mind, with her hands dusty and begrimed 
 with the ashes of this life's mocking spoils. How true these 
 rumors, none might say. What truth lay hidden in her mad 
 ravings about the parentage of Carmen, and her confused, mut- 
 tered references to Monsignor Lafelle, no one knew. But of 
 those who stood about her bedside there was none who could 
 gainsay the awed whisperings of the servants that this haughty 
 leader of the great city's aristocracy had passed from this life 
 into the darkness beyond in pitiable misery and terror. 
 
 The news of his mother's death had come at a time when 
 the boy was wild with delirium, at an hour when Waite, and 
 Hitt, and Carmen stood with him in his room and strove to 
 close their ears against the shrieking of the demon that was 
 tearing him. Hitt at once called up Willett, and asked for 
 instructions. A few minutes later came the message that the 
 Ames house was forever barred against the wayward son. 
 And it was not until this bright winter morning, when the lad 
 again sat clothed and in his right mind, that Carmen had 
 gently broken the news to him. 
 
 "I never knew her," the boy had said at length, rousing 
 from his meditations. "Few of the rich people's children know 
 their parents. I was brought up by nurses and tutors. I never 
 knew what it was to put my arms around my mother, and kiss 
 her. I used to long to, at times. And often I would plan to 
 surprise her by suddenly running into her arms and embrac- 
 ing her. But then, when I would see her, she was always so 
 far away, so cold, so beautifully dressed. And she seldom 
 spoke to me, or to Kathleen, until we were grown up. And by 
 that time I was running wild. And then-^then — " 
 
 "There!" admonished Carmen, reaching over and taking 
 his hand. "That's in our little private cemetery, you know. 
 The old error is dead, and we are not going to dig it up and 
 rehearse it, are we?" 
 
 He smiled wanly. "I'm like a little baby," he said sadly. 
 
 121 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Fm just beginning to live. And you are my mother, the only 
 one I've ever known." 
 
 Carmen laughed merrily. "Let me be your sister," she said. 
 "We are so near of an age, you know." 
 
 He raised her hand to his lips. "You are my angel," he 
 murmured. "My bright, beautiful angel. What would I have 
 been without you!" 
 
 "Now, Sidney!" she warned, holding up a finger. "What 
 have I told you so often that Jesus said? 'Of mine own self 
 I can do nothing.' Nor can I, Sidney dear. It was — " her 
 voice sank to a whisper — "it was the Christ-principle. It 
 worked through him as a channel ; and it worked through me." 
 
 "You're goin.g to teach me all about that," he said, again 
 pressing her hand to his lips. "You won't cast me adrift yet, 
 will you, little sister?" 
 
 "Cast you adrift! Never, Sidney dear! Why, you're still 
 mine, you know! I haven't given you back to yourself yet, 
 have I? But now let's talk about your work. If you want to 
 write, you are going to, and you are going to write right." 
 
 "And you. Carmen?" he asked, wondering. 
 
 "Back to the Express," she said lightly. "I haven't written 
 a word for it now for a month. And how dear, funny old Ned 
 has scolded!" 
 
 "You — ^you dropped everything — ^your work — all — for a 
 poor, worthless hulk like me," he sighed. "I — I can't under- 
 stand it. You didn't know me, hardly." 
 
 "Sidney dear," the girl replied. "It wasn't for you. It was 
 for God. Everything I do is 'as unto Him.' I would have done 
 the same for anybody, whether I knew the person or not. I 
 saw, not you, but the human need — oh, such a need! And 
 the Christ-principle made me a human channel for meeting it, 
 that is all. Drop my work, and my own interests ! Why, Sid- 
 ney, what is anything compared with meeting human heeds? 
 Didn't Jesus drop everything and hurry out to meet the sick 
 and the suffering? Was money-making, or society, or per- 
 sonal desire, or worldly pleasure anything to him when he saw 
 a need? You don't seem to understand that this is what 1 am 
 here for — to show what love will do." 
 
 "No," he murmured. "I — I guess I know only the world's 
 idea of love." 
 
 "And that is love's counterfeit, self-love, sentimentalism, 
 sex-mesmerism, and all that," she added. "But now, back to 
 your work again. You're going to write, write, write! My, 
 but the world is hungry for real literature! Your yearning 
 to meet that need is a sign of your ability to do it. But, re- 
 member, everything that comes to you comes from within. 
 
 122 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 You are, in fact, a miner; and your mine is your mind; and 
 that is unlimited, for God is the only mind, infinite and omni- 
 present. Now you are going to mine that mind. 
 
 "Listen," she went on hurriedly. "Don't be afraid to be 
 afraid. We never fear a real thing; we fear only our false 
 thoughts of things. Always those thoughts are absolutely 
 wrong, and we wake up and find that we were fearing only 
 fear-thoughts themselves. Haven't you ever noticed it? Now 
 destroy the chains of fear which limit your thought, and God 
 will issue! 
 
 "Well," without waiting for his reply, "now you have 
 reached that plane of thought where you don't really care for 
 what the world has to offer you. You have ceased to want to be 
 rich, or famous. You are not afraid to be obscure and poor. 
 You have learned, at least in part, that the real business of this 
 life lies in seeking good, in manifesting and expressing it in 
 every walk, and in reflecting it constantly to your fellow-men. 
 Having learned that, you are ready to live. Remember, there 
 is no luck, no such thing as chance. The cause of everything 
 that can possibly come to you lies within yourself. It is a func- 
 tion of your thought. The thought that you allow to enter 
 your mentality and become active there, later becomes ex- 
 ternalized. Be, oh, so careful, then, about your thought, and 
 the basis upon which it rests! For, in your writing, you have 
 no right to inflict false thought upon your credulous fellow- 
 mortals." 
 
 "But," he replied, "we are told that in literature we must 
 deal with human realities, and with things as they are. The 
 human mind exists, and has to be dealt with." 
 
 "The human mind does not exist, Sidney, except as supposi- 
 tion. There are no human realities. The world still awaits 
 the one who will show it things as they really are. Human 
 realities, so-called, are the horrible, ghastly unrealities of car- 
 nal thought, without any basis of the divine Christ-principle. 
 I know, we are told that the great books of the world are those 
 which preserve and interpret its life. Alas ! is it true greatness 
 to detail, over and over again in endless recital, the carnal 
 motives of the human mind, its passions and errors, its awful 
 mesmerism, its final doom? Yes, perhaps, on one condition: 
 that, like a true critic, you picture human concepts only to 
 show their unreality, their nothingness, and to show how they 
 may be overcome." 
 
 "But most books—" 
 
 "Ah, yes, most books are written only to amuse the dis- 
 pirited human mind for a brief hour, to make it forget for a 
 moment its troubles. They are literary narcotics; they are 
 
 123 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 sops to jaded appetites, that's all. A book^fdr example, that 
 pictures an injured man discovering a great treasure, and 
 then using it to carry out his schemes of revenge — ^weli, what 
 influence for good has such a work? It is only a stimulus to 
 evil, Sidney. But had it shown him using that great wealth 
 to bless his persecutors and turn them from their mesmerism 
 to real life and good- — " 
 
 "Such things don't happen in this world. Carmen." 
 
 "But they could, and should, Sidney dear. And thfey will, 
 some day. Then will come the new literature, the literature of 
 good! And it will make people think, rather than relieve them 
 from the ennui of solid thought, as our present novels do. The 
 intellectual palate then will find only insipidity in such books 
 as pour from our presses now. The ability to converse glibly 
 about authors who wallow in human unrealities will then no 
 longer be considered the hall-mark of culture. Culture in that 
 day will be conformity to truth." 
 
 The lad smiled at the enthusiastic girl. "Little sister," he 
 said, "you are a beautiful idealist." 
 
 "But," came her quick reply, "are you not a living illustra- 
 tion of the practicability of my idealism, Sidney?" 
 
 The boy choked, and tears filled his eyes. Carmen stole an 
 arm about him. "The most practical nian who ever lived, 
 Sidney dear, was Jesus. And he was the greatest idealist. He 
 had ideas that differed very radically from other people's, but 
 he did not hide them for fear of giving offense. He was not 
 afraid to shock people with the truth about themselves. He 
 tore down, yes; but he then reconstructed, and on a founda- 
 tion of demonstrable truth. He was not afraid to defy the 
 Rabbis, the learned, and the puffed-up. He did not bOw ab- 
 jectly before the mandarins and pedagogues. Had he done 
 so, and given the people what they wanted and were accus- 
 tomed to, they would have made him a king — and his mission 
 would have been a dead failure!" 
 
 "And for that they slew him," returned the boy. 
 
 "It is the cowardly fear of slaughter, Sidney, that keeps 
 people from coming out and standing for what they know to 
 be right to-day. You are not one of those cravens." 
 
 "But the people who do that, Carmen, are called dema- 
 gogues and muck-rakers!" 
 
 She laughed. "And the muck-rakers, Sidney* have made a 
 sorry mess, haven't they? They destroy without ruth, but 
 seldom, if ever, put forth a sane suggestion for the betterment 
 of conditions. They trafiBc in sensationalism, carping criticism, 
 and abuse. 'To find fault,' said Demosthenes, 'is easy, and in 
 every man's power; but to point out the proper remedy is the 
 
 124 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 proof of a wise counselor.' The remedy which I point out, 
 Sidney, is the Christ-principle; and all I ask is that mankind 
 seek to demonstrate it, even as Jesus bade us do. He was a 
 success, Sidney, the greatest success the world has ever known. 
 And why? Because he followed ideals with utter loyalty — 
 because he voiced truth without fear — because he made his 
 business the service of humanity. He took his work seriously, 
 not for money, not for human preferment, but for mankind. 
 And his work bears the stamp of eternity." 
 
 "I'm afraid — "he began. 
 
 "You're not afraid, Sidney!" the girl quickly interrupted. 
 "Oh, why does the human mind always look for and expect 
 that which it does not want to see come or happen!" 
 
 The boy laughed heartily at the quick sally of her delight- 
 fully quotidian thought. "You didn't let me finish," he said. 
 "I was going to say that I'm afraid if I write and speak only 
 of spiritual things I shall not be understood by the world, nor 
 even given a heating." 
 
 "Well, don't use that word 'afraid.' My! how the human 
 mind clings to everything, even words, that express its chief 
 bogy, fear." 
 
 "All right; I accept the rebuke. But, my question?" 
 
 "That was the case with Jesus. And yet, has anything, 
 written or spoken, ever endured as his spiritual teachings? 
 The present-day novel or work of fiction is as fleeting as the 
 human thought it attempts to crystallize. Of the millions of 
 books published, a handful endure. Those are they which 
 illustrate the triumph of good over evil in human thought. And 
 the greatest of such books is the Bible." 
 
 "Well, I'm hunting for a subject now." 
 
 "Don't hunt. Wait — and know! The subject will then 
 choose you. It will pelt you. It will drive you to the task of 
 transcribing it. Just as one is now driving me. Sidney — 
 perhaps I can give you the subject! Perhaps I am the channel 
 for this, too!" 
 
 He looked at her inquisitively. "Well," bending over closer 
 to her, "what is it, little sister?" 
 
 The girl looked out over the dripping shrubs and the soft 
 snow. But her thought was not there. She saw a man, a 
 priest, she knew not where, but delving, plodding, digging for 
 the truth which the human mind has buried under centuries 
 and centuries of material debris. She saw him, patiently bear- 
 ing his man-made burden, striving to shield a tender, aban- 
 doned girl, and to transfer to her his own great worldly knowl- 
 edge, but vvithout its dross. She saw the mighty sacrifice, 
 when the man tore her from himself, and thrust her out be- 
 
 125 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 yond the awful danger in which he dwelt. She understood 
 now. The years had taught her much. It was love — aye, the 
 love that alone makes men great, the love that lays down human 
 life in self-immolating service. 
 
 She turned to the waiting lad. "You will write it, Sidney? 
 I will tell you the whole beautiful story. It is an illustration 
 of the way love works through human channels. And per- 
 haps — ^perhaps, some day, the book may reach him — ^yes, some 
 day. And it will tell him — oh, Sidney, it will tell him that I 
 know, and that I love him, love him, love him!" 
 
 In the office of the manager of the Express three heads 
 were close together that morning, and three faces bore out- 
 ward evidence of the serious thought within. 
 
 "Miss Wall tells me, Ned," Hitt was saying, "that her father 
 used to be associated with Ames, and that, at his demise, he 
 left his estate, badly entangled, for Ames to settle. Now it 
 transpires that Ames has been cunning enough to permit Miss 
 Wall to draw upon his bank almost without limit, he making 
 up any deficit with his own personal notes." 
 
 "Ah!" commented Haynerd. "I think I see the shadow of 
 his fine hand!" 
 
 "And now," resumed Hitt, "she is given to understand that 
 Ames has been obliged by the bank examiner to withdraw his 
 personal notes as security for her deficits, and that the revenue 
 from her estate must be allowed to accrue to the benefit of the 
 Ames bank until such time as all obligations are met." 
 
 "Beautiful!" ejaculated Haynerd. "In other words, Eliza- 
 beth is simply cut off!" 
 
 "Just so. And now, another thing: Madam Beaubien's 
 lawyer called on her to-day, and informed her that Hood had 
 gone into court and secured an injunction, tying up all revenue 
 from her estate until it can be unraveled. That cuts off her 
 income, likewise." 
 
 Haynerd whistled. "The hound!" he ejaculated. "Ames 
 is out to do up the Express, eh?" 
 
 "There is no doubt of it, Ned," returned Hitt seriously. 
 "And to utterly ruin all connected with it." 
 
 "Then, by God, we'll fight him to the last ditch!" cried the 
 excited Haynerd. 
 
 "I think you foi-get, Ned, that we have a lady with us," 
 nodding toward Miss Wall, "and that you are seriously trying 
 to reform, for Carmen's sake." 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Elizabeth," said Haynerd meekly. "I 
 really am trying to be decent, you know. But when I think of 
 Ames it's like a red rag to a bull!" 
 
 126 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Miss Wall laughed. "Never mind, Ned. I admire your 
 fighting spirit." 
 
 "Of course," Hitt continued, "oil still flows from our pater- 
 nal wells. But in order to raise money at once I shall be obliged- 
 either to sell my oil holdings or mortgage them. They have 
 got to take care of us all now, including Madam Beaubien." 
 
 "Where's Carmen?" asked Haynerd suddenly. 
 
 "Home, with Sidney. There's another anomaly : while Ames 
 is trying to ruin us, that girl is saving his son. Great world, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 "It's a heir of a world!" cried Haynerd. "I — I beg your 
 pardon, Elizabeth. The fact is, either you or I will have to 
 retire from this meeting, for I'm getting mad. I — I may say 
 things yet!" 
 
 "Say anything you want to, Ned. I like to hear your sul- 
 phurous language to-day. It helps to express my own feel- 
 ings," replied the woman. 
 
 "The circulation of the Express," Hitt went on, "is entirely 
 artificial. Our expense is tremendous, and our revenue slight. 
 And still Carmen insists on branching out and putting into 
 practical form her big ideas. Limitation is a word that is not 
 in her vocabulary!" 
 
 "Hitt, can't we fight Ames with his own fire? What about 
 that Wales affair?" 
 
 "Ames is very cunning," answered Hitt. "When he learned 
 that the cotton schedule had been altered in the Ways and 
 Means Committee, he promptly closed down his Avon mills. 
 That was to scare Congress. Then he resumed, but on half 
 time. That was a plea of distress. I presume he will later 
 return to full time, but with a reduced scale of wages. He's 
 trying to coerce Congress. Now how does he intend to do it? 
 This way: he will force a strike at Avon — a February strike — 
 four thousand hands out in the cold. Meantime, he'll influence 
 every other spinner in the country to do likewise. They'll all 
 follow his lead. Now, can Congress stand up against that sort 
 of argument? And, besides, he will grease tlie palms of a large 
 number of our dignified statesmen, you may be sure!" 
 
 "Mr. Hitt," said Miss Wall, "I suggest that you send Carmen 
 to Avon at once. I know of no one who can get to the bottom 
 of things as she can. Let her collect the facts regarding the 
 situation down there, and then — " 
 
 * "Send her first to Washington!" interrupted Haynerd. 
 "Have her hang around the lobbies of the Capitol for a while, 
 and nieet a lot of those old sap-heads. What information 
 she won't succeed in worming out of them isn't in 'em, that's 
 all!" 
 
 127 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "But," objected Hitt, "if she knew that we would use her 
 information for a personal attack upon Ames, she'd leave us." 
 
 "There's no objection to her getting the facts, anyway, is 
 there?" demanded Haynerd, waxing hot again. 
 
 "N — no, I suppose not. But that will take additional 
 money. Very well, I'll do it. I'll put a mortgage on my Ohio 
 holdings at once." 
 
 "I don't think I would be afraid," suggested Miss Wall. 
 "We might not use the information Carmen may collect in 
 Avon or Washington, but something, I am sure, is bound to 
 come out of it. Something always comes out of what she does. 
 She's the greatest asset the Express has. We must use her." 
 
 "All well and good," put in Haynerd. "And yet, if she 
 finds anybody down there who needs help, even the President 
 himself, she'll throw the Express to the winds, just as she did 
 in Sidney's case. You can't bank on her !" 
 
 "No, that's true, Ned, for while we preach she's off some- 
 where practicing. We evolve great truths, and she applies and 
 demonstrates them. But she has saved Sidney^her Christ 
 did it through her. And she has given the lad to us, a future 
 valuable man." 
 
 "Sure — if we are to have any future," growled Ned. 
 
 "See here," retorted Hitt, brindling, "have we in our nu- 
 merous gatherings at Madam Beaubien's spoken truth or non- 
 sense? If you believe- our report, then accept and apply it. 
 Now who's to go to Avon with Carmen?" 
 
 "Sidney," suggested Miss Wall. 
 
 "Sid?" exclaimed Haynerd. "Huh! Why, if those Magyars 
 down there discovered he was Ames's son, they'd eat him 
 alive!" 
 
 The telephone rang. Hitt answered the call. Then, turn- 
 ing to his companions: 
 
 "Waite says he wants a meeting to-night. He'd like to re- 
 port on his research work. Guess we'd better call it. I'll in- 
 form Morton. No telling when we may get together again, if 
 the girl — " He became suddenly silent, and sat some time 
 looking vacantly out through the window. 
 
 "She goes to Avon to-morrow," he abruptly announced, 
 "alone." His thought had been dwelling on that 'something 
 not ourselves' which he knew was shielding and sustaining 
 the girl. ■ 
 
 128 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 10 
 
 WE have now arrived at a subject whose interest and 
 significance for us are incalculable," said Father 
 Waite, standing before the little group which had 
 assembled in their usual meeting place in the first hours of 
 the morning, for only at that time could Hitt and Haynerd 
 leave the Express. "We have met to discuss briefly the mean- 
 ing of that marvelous record of a whole nation's search for 
 God, the Bible. As have been men's changing concepts of that 
 'something not ourselves that makes for. righteousness,' so 
 have been individuals, tribes, and nations. The Bible records 
 the development of these concepts in Israel's thought; it re- 
 cords the unquenchable longings of that people for truth; it 
 records their prophetic vision, their sacred songs, their phi- 
 losophy, their dreams, and their aspirations. To most of us 
 the Bible has long been a work of profound mystery, cryptical, 
 undecipherable. And largely, I now believe, because we were 
 wont to approach it with the bias of preconceived theories of 
 literal, even verbal, inspiration, and because we could not read 
 into it the record of Israel's changing idea of God, from a 
 wrathful, consuming Lord of human caprice and passions, to 
 the infinite Father of love, whom Jesus revealed as the Christ- 
 principle, which worked through him and through all who are 
 gaining the true spiritual concept, as is this girl who sits here 
 on my right with the lad whom you have seen rescued by the 
 Christ from the pit of hell." 
 
 His voice choked when he referred to Carmen and Sidney. 
 But he quickly stifled his emotion, and went on : 
 
 "In our last meeting Mr. Hitt clearly showed us how the 
 so-called human mind has seemed to develop as the supposi- 
 tional opposite of the mind that is God; and how through 
 countless ages of human reckoning that pseudo-mind has been 
 revealing its various types, until at length, rising ever higher 
 in the scale of being, it revealed its human man as a mentality 
 whose consciousness is the suppositional activity of false 
 thought, and which builds, incessantly, mental concepts out of 
 this kind of thought and posits them within itself as material 
 objects, as its own body, its universe, its all. And he showed 
 us how, little by little, that human mind's interpretations of 
 the infinite mind's true ideas became better, under the .divine 
 infiltration of truth, until at last there developed a type, now 
 known to us as the Jewish nation, which caught a clearer 
 glimpse of truth, and became conscious of that 'something 
 
 54 129 
 
'CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 not ourselves' which makes for right-thinking, and consequent 
 correct mental concepts and externalizations. This, then, was 
 the starting point of our religion. These first glimpses of 
 truth, and their interpretations, as set forth in the writings of 
 the early Jewish nation, constitute the nucleus of our Bible. 
 
 "But were these records exact statements of truth? Not 
 always. The primitive human mind could only lisp its won- 
 derful glimpses of truth in legend and myth. And so in fable 
 and allegory the early Israelites sought to show the power of 
 good over evil, and thereby stimulate a desire for right conduct, 
 based, of course, on right-thinking. And thus it is that the 
 most significant thing in their sacred records is their many, 
 many stories of the triumph of the spiritual over the material. 
 
 "Time passed. The Hebrew nation waxed prosperous. 
 Their right-thinking became externalized outwardly in mate- 
 rial abundance and physical comfort. But the people's under- 
 standing was not sufSciently great to shield them from the 
 temptation which material wealth and power always constitute. 
 Their vision gradually became obscured. The mist of mate- 
 rialism spread over it. Those wonderful flashes of truth ceased 
 to dart across their mental horizon. Their god became a mag- 
 nified concept of the human man, who dickered with them over 
 the construction of his temples, and who, by covenants, bribes, 
 and promises, induced them to behave themselves, Prophecy 
 died. And at length the beautiful vision faded quite away. 
 
 "Then followed four hundred human years, during which 
 the vicissitudes of the Hebrew nation were many and dark. 
 But during those long centuries there developed that world 
 wonder, a whole nation's united longing for a deliverer! The 
 prophets promised a great change in their fallen fortunes. 
 Expectation grew keen. Desire expanded into yearning. Their 
 God would not forsake them. Was not His grace suflBcient? 
 Though their concept of Him had grossly degenerated, yet the 
 deliverer would come, he must! 
 
 "And he did. In the depths of their night — in the midst of 
 the heaviest darkness that ever lay over the world — there arose 
 a great light. Through the densest ignorance of the human 
 mind filtered the Christ-principle, and was set forth by the 
 channel through which it came, the man Jesus. 
 
 "What had happened? Had there been a conference among 
 God, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, to debate the sending of 
 salvation to mankind, as recorded by the poet Milton? Alas! 
 what a crude, materialistic conception. Had God so loved the 
 world that He gave His only begotten Son? But God is Love, 
 infinite, unchanging. And His unique Son, the Christ-principle, 
 available to all mankind, was 'before Abraham.' Had a great, 
 
 130 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 dimly perceived principle been demonstrated, namely, that, if 
 we yearn long and earnestly for the right, it comes? Had the 
 Jewish nation 'demonstrated' the Christ? Had their centuries 
 of looking and expecting resulted in a saviour being manifested 
 to them? It was a period in the unfolding of human thought 
 when civilization had reached its lowest depths. Morality had 
 evaporated to the dregs. Rome was become the world's harlot. 
 A few years more, and Nero would drag his vulpine immorality 
 across the stage. Paganism was virtue in comparison with the 
 lust of men in that dark hour. And yet, in the very midst of 
 it, appeared the most venerated, the most beloved man in all 
 history, bearing the Christ-message like a flaming torch! 
 
 " 'Always our being is descending into us,' said Emerson. 
 But our true being can be none other than infinite mind's idea 
 of itself. Our true individuality must be the way that mind 
 regards us. And thus it was that Israel's true being descended, 
 filtering in through the thick mists of error. That true being 
 was the deliverer, par excellence, for it was the message of 
 truth that bade men deny themselves, their carnal selves, and 
 know but the one God, infinite mind. That was the grace 
 sufficient for them, that would have solved their problems, that 
 would have enabled them to lay off the 'old man' and his woes 
 and afflictions, and put on the 'new man,' divine mind's image. 
 But the carnal mind sought a material kingdom. It wanted, 
 not spirit, but matter. It cruelly rejected the message bearer, 
 and sought to kill his message by slaying him on the cross. 
 And thereby the Jewish nation rent itself asunder, and sank 
 into carnal oblivion. Ah, how they have been cursed by the 
 crucifixion of Jesus! 
 
 "Men ask to-day: Did Jesus really live? Or is he a myth- 
 ical character, like the gods of pagan Rome? Let us ask, in 
 making our reply, how truth comes to mankind? Is it not 
 always through some human channel? Then the great say- 
 ings attributed to Jesus at least came from a human being. 
 Let us go further: it is the common history of mankind that 
 truth comes to the human mind only after a period of prepara- 
 tion. Not conscious preparation, necessarily, but, rather, a 
 preparation forced by events. The truth of a mathematical 
 principle can not come to me unless I am prepared to receive 
 it. And, the greatest good comes to men only after they have 
 learned the nothingness of the material ambitions and aims 
 which they have been pursuing. By its own rottenness the 
 world had been made fallow' for truth. The awfulness of its 
 own exposure in its rampant, unlicensed revels, had shown as 
 never before the human mind's absolute nothingness — ^its noth- 
 ingness as regards real value, permanence, and genuine good 
 
 131 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 — in that first century of our so-called Christian era. And 
 when the nothingness of the carnal mind was made plain, men 
 saw the reality of the truth, as revealed in the Christ, back of 
 it all. The divine message was whispered to a human men- 
 tality. And that mentality expanded under the God-influence, 
 until at last it gave to the sin-weary world the Christ-principle 
 of salvation. Let us call that human mentality, for conven- 
 ience, the man Jesus. 
 
 "And now, was he born of a virgin? Impossible! And yet 
 — let us see. It was common enough in his day for virgins to 
 pretend to be with child by the Holy Ghost; and so we do not 
 criticise those who refuse to accept the dogma of the virgin 
 birth. But a little reflection in the light of what we have been 
 discussing throws a wonderful illumination upon the question. 
 If matter and material modes are real, then we must at once 
 relegate the stories of the virgin birth, the miracles, the resur- 
 rection, and the ascension to the realm of myth. If the so- 
 called laws of matter are real, irrefragable laws, then we in- 
 dulgently pass by these stories as figments of heated imagina- 
 tions. But, regarding matter as a human, mortal concept; 
 entirely mental, and wholly subject to the impress and influ- 
 ence of mind, and knowing, as we do now, that mental concepts 
 change with changed thought, we are forced to look with more 
 favor upon theSe questions which for centuries caused men to 
 shed their fellows' blood. 
 
 "Mr. Hitt pointed out in our last meeting that mortal beings 
 are interpretations in mortal or human mind of the infinite 
 mind, God, and its ideas. The most perfect human interpreta- 
 tion of God's greatest idea, Man, was Christ Jesus. The real 
 selfhood of every one of us is God's idea of us. It is spiritual, 
 mental. The world calls it the 'soul,' the 'divine essence,' and 
 the 'immortal spark.' The Christ was the real, spiritual self- 
 hood of the man Jesus. So the Christ is the real selfhood of 
 each of us. It is not born of the flesh. It is not conceived and 
 brought forth in conformity with human modes. Now was 
 this great fact externalized in the immaculate conception and 
 birth? It does not grow and decay and pass away in death. 
 It is the 'unique' Son of God which is back of each one of us. 
 But the world has seen it only once in its fullness, and then 
 through the man Jesus. 
 
 "Something happened in that first century of the so-called 
 Christian era — something of trepiendous significance. What 
 was it? It was the birth of the Christ-idea into the human 
 consciousness. Was the Christ-idea virgin-born? Aye, that 
 it was, for God, infinite Mind; alone was its origin and parent. 
 The speculation which has turned about that wonderful first 
 
 132 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 century event has dealt with the human channel through which 
 the Christ-idea flowed to mankind. But let us see what light 
 our deductions throw even upon that. 
 
 "Referring all things to the realm of the mental, where we 
 now know they belong, we see that man never fell, but that 
 Israel's idea of God and man did fall, woefully. We see that 
 the Christ-principle appeared among men; we see that to-day 
 it works marvels; we must admit that throughout the ages 
 before Jesus it had done so; we know now that the great things 
 which Israel is recorded to have done were accomplished by 
 the Christ-principle working through men, and that when their 
 vision became obscured they lost the knowledge of that prin- 
 ciple and how to use it. History records the working of great 
 deeds by that same Christ-principle when it was re-born in our 
 first century; and we also can see how the obscuring of the 
 spiritual by the material in the Emperor Constantine's time 
 caused the loss of the Church's power to do great works. We 
 are forced to admit the omnipotence, immanence, and eternality 
 of the Christ-principle, for it is divine mind, God himself. 
 Moses, Elisha, Elijah, the ancient prophets, all had primitive 
 perceptions of truth, and all became channels for the passing 
 of the Christ-principle to mankind in some degree. But none 
 of these men ever illustrated that principle as did the man 
 Jesus. He is the most marvelous manifestation of God that 
 has ever appeared among mankind; so true and exact was the 
 manifestation that he could tell the world that in seeing him 
 they were actually seeing the Father. It is quite true that 
 many of his great sayings were not original with him. Great 
 truths have been voiced, even by so-called pagans, from earliest 
 times. But he demonstrated and made practical the trutl^ in 
 these sayings. And he exposed the nothingness of the human 
 mental concept of matter by healing disease, walking the waves, 
 and in other wonderful ways. It is true that long before his 
 time Greek philosophers had hit upon the theory of the noth- 
 ingness of matter. Plato had said that only ideas were real. 
 But Jesus — or the one who brought the Christ-message— was 
 the clearest mentality, the cleanest human window-pane, to 
 quote Carmen, that ever existed. Through him the divine 
 mind showed with almost unobscured fullness. God's existence 
 had been discerned and His goodness proved from time to time 
 by prophets and patriarchs, but by no means to the extent that 
 Jesus proved it. There were those before him who had as- 
 serted that there was but one reality, and that human con- 
 sciousness was not the real self. There were even those who 
 believed matter to be created by the force of thought, even as 
 in our own day. But it remained for Jesus to make those ideas 
 
 133 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 intensely practical, even to the overcoming and dissolution of 
 his whole material concept of the universe and man. And it 
 remained for him to show that the origin of evil is in the lie 
 about God. It was his mission to show that the devil was 'a 
 man-killer from the beginning,' because it is the supposition 
 that there is power apart from God. It was his life purpose to 
 show mankind that there is nothing in this lie to cause fear, 
 and that it can be overcome by overcoming the false thought 
 which produces it. By overcoming that thought he showed 
 men the evanescent nature of sickness and death. And sin 
 he showed to be a missing of the mark through lack of under- 
 standing of what constitutes real good. 
 
 "Turn now again to the Bible, that fascinating record of a 
 whole people's search for God and their changing concept of 
 Him. Note that, wherever in its records evil seems to be made 
 real, it is for the purpose of uncovering and destroying it by 
 the vigorous statements of truth which you will almost invari- 
 ably find standing near the exposition of error. So evil seemed 
 very real in the first century of our era; but it was uncovered 
 by the coming of Jesus. The exposure of evil revealed the 
 Christ, right at hand." 
 
 "But," protested Haynerd, "let's get back to the question of 
 the virgin birth." 
 
 "Very well," replied Father Waite. "But let us first con- 
 sider what human birth is." 
 
 "Now there!" exclaimed Haynerd. "Now you are touching 
 my lifelong question. If I am immortal, where was I before I 
 was born?" 
 
 "Of which T are you speaking, Ned?" asked Father Waite. 
 "The real T is God's image and likeness. His reflection. It was 
 never born, and never dies. The human T had a beginning. 
 And therefore it will cease to be. The human mind makes its 
 own laws, and calls them laws of nature, or even God's laws. 
 And it obeys them like a slave. Because God is both Father and 
 Mother to His children. His ideas, the human mind has decreed 
 in its counterfeiting process that it is itself both male and 
 female, and that the union of these two is necessary in order 
 to give rise to another human mind. Do you see how it imi- 
 tates the divine in an apish sort of way? And so elements of 
 each sex-type of the human mind are employed in the forma- 
 tion of another, their offspring. The process is wholly mental, 
 and is one of human belief, quite apart from the usage of the 
 divine Mind, who 'spake and it was done,' mentally unfolding 
 a spiritual creation. The real 'you,' Ned, has always existed 
 as God's idea of Himself. It is spiritual, not material. It will 
 come to light as the material 'you' is put off. The material 
 
 134 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 •you' did not exist before it was humanly born. It was pro- 
 duced in supposition by the union of the parent human minds, 
 which themselves were reflections of the male and female 
 characteristics of the communal mortal mind. It thus had a 
 definite, supposititious beginning. It will therefore have a 
 definite end." 
 
 "And so I'm doomed to annihilation, eh? That's a com- 
 forting thought!" 
 
 "Your mortal sense of existence, Ned, certainly is doomed 
 to extinction. That which is supposition must go out. Oh, 
 it doubtless will not all be destroyed when you pass through 
 that change which we call death. It may linger until you have 
 passed through many such experiences. And so it behooves 
 you to set about getting rid of it as soon as possible, and thus 
 avoid, the unpleasant experience of countless death-throes. 
 You see, Ned, an error in the premise will appear in the con- 
 clusion. Now you are starting with the premise that the 
 human 'you' is real. That premise is not based upon fact. 
 Its basis is rank error. All that you reflect of divine mind will 
 endure permanently, but whatever you reflect of the lie regard- 
 ing that mind will pass away. Human beings know nothing 
 of their origin, nor of their existence. Why? Because there 
 is nothing to know about them; they are entirely suppositi- 
 tious! Paul says, in his letter to the Romans: 'They which 
 are the children of the flesh, these are not the children of God.' 
 The birth of the children of the flesh is wholly a human-mind 
 process. The infant mentality thus produced knows nothing 
 whatsoever of itself. It has no knowledge; is not founded on 
 truth. It will later manifest hereditary beliefs, showing the 
 results of prenatal mesmerism. Then it will receive the gen- 
 eral assortment of human thought and opinion — ^very little of 
 it based on actual truth — ^which the world calls education. 
 Then it learns to regard itself as an individual, a separate be- 
 ing. And soon it attributes its origin to God. But the pre- 
 natal error will appear in the result. The being manifests 
 every gradation of human thought; it grows; it suffers and 
 enjoys materially; it bases its very existence upon matter; it 
 manifests the false activity of human thought in material con- 
 sciousness; and then it externalizes its beliefs, the consentane- 
 ous human beliefs, upon its body and in its environment; and 
 finally, the activity of the false thought which constitutes its 
 consciousness ceases — and the being dies. Yes, its death will 
 be due to sin, to 'hamartio,' missing the mark. It never knew 
 God. And that, Ned, is human life, so-called. 
 
 "Death is not in any sense a cessation of life. The being 
 who dies never knew what it was to live. Death is the exter- 
 
 135 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 nalization of human, mortal beliefs, which are not based upon 
 real knowledge, truth. And so, human birth is itself death. 
 Paul said: 'They that are after the flesh do mind the things 
 of the flesh; but they that are after the spirit the things of the 
 spirit.' In other words, mankind are striving terribly, desper- 
 ately, to keep alive a sense of material, fleshly existence. But 
 they can't do it. They are .foredoomed to failure, despite the 
 discovery of antitoxins. In the book of Job we read: 'The 
 spirit of God hath made me, and the breath of the Almighty 
 hath given me life.' Where, then, is the reality in prenatal 
 mesmerism and the drag of heredity? It is all supposition, 
 all a part of the one lie, the 'man-killer.' 
 
 "The change called death comes to all mortals. It is the 
 culmination of the human mind's sense of limitation. It does 
 not usher them into immortal, illimitable bliss. It but leaves 
 them upon another seeming plane of mortal thought, there to 
 drag out another sense of existence, unless they have so learned 
 the lesson which Jesus taught as to enable them to overcome 
 death. It will not be overcome for us. That is our work. We 
 have been shown how to do it. Why. then, do we waste our 
 time in trivial things; in the heaping up of useless money'; in 
 the vain strife for sensual pleasures? The mortal will live and 
 die, and live and die, until at last he is beaten into line and 
 forced to demonstrate the Christ-principle. Hadn't we better 
 begin that right here and now? Wishing to die doesn't solve 
 our problems. Suicide only makes us start again, worse off 
 than before. We shall overcome death when we have over- 
 come sin, for the physical manifestation called death is but the 
 externalization in conscious experience of spiritual death — 
 lack of a demonstrable understanding of Life, Truth, Spirit, 
 which is God, unlimited good." 
 
 "And the Church, Protestant and Catholic, with their cere- 
 monies, their Masses, and — " 
 
 "They have woefully missed the mark, Ned. They are all 
 but spiritually dead. But I see protest rising in our good 
 friends,. Doctor Siler and Reverend Moore, so I will hasten on, 
 for we have much ground still to cover. 
 
 "Now, knowing that birth is a humanly mental process, is 
 it possible that the man Jesus was 'born of a virgin'? Quite 
 so; but, more, no man ever conceived and born in the way 
 human beings are generated has ever begun to approach Jesus 
 in degree of spirituality. If he had been born in human ways, 
 is it likely that he would ever have developed such intense 
 spirituality? Well, not in a brief thirty-three years or so! 
 And, on the other hand, if be had come into the world in some 
 way other than by being born of a woman, would he have been 
 
 136 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 understandable at all to the human mind? I think not. He 
 would have been wholly in the realm of the mental, far above 
 human perception. If he had been conceived by the union of 
 the two sexes, as is the mortal-mind mode of generation, would 
 he not have been too material to have so quickly developed 
 that spirituality which made him the light of the world at the 
 age of thirty-three? I think it is a fair question. The theory 
 of the virgin birth at least seems to meet the need of a sort 
 of middle course, whereby the man should not be too human 
 to be the channel for the great measure of spirituality with 
 which he was endowed, and yet should be human enough to be 
 appreciable to other human minds. 
 
 "Remember, the Jesus who has been reported to us must, 
 have regarded matter as unreal, as nothingness. His works 
 plainly show that. And they as plainly show that he came 
 from the Father. His whole life was such as to render the 
 virgin birth almost a necessity, as I see it. How otherwise can 
 we explain him? And from a study of the Gospels I simply 
 can not avoid the conclusion that his knowledge of the allness 
 of God rendered matter such a nonentity to him that he over- 
 came all material laws, overcame the world of matter, and 
 even at the last dematerialized his material body. It's an 
 astonishing thought — and yet, who can show that it is not true? 
 There are some things that reason insists on our accepting, 
 despite the paucity of human records." 
 
 "I believe, Mr. Waite," said Doctor Morton, "that the Gos- 
 pels according to Mark and John make no mention of the 
 virgin birth. Is it not so?" 
 
 "Quite true," replied Father Waite. "And I will go further : 
 Biblical research during the past few years seems to have estab- 
 lished the conclusion that Mark's Gospel antedates the others, 
 but that prior to it there existed a collection of sayings by 
 Jesus, called the Login. This collection of sayings seems to 
 have been originally written in Aramaic, the language Jesus 
 spoke. Now Matthew Arnold tells us that the Gospel narra- 
 tives p'assed through at least fifty years of oral tradition before 
 they became fixed in the form in which we now have them. 
 Of course it is quite possible that the story of the virgin birth 
 arose during those fifty years, for we can imagine how the life 
 of Jesus was then discussed! Matthew and Luke alone speak 
 of the virgin birth. Mark's Gospel we believe to have been 
 written by Mark himself. And we believe that Papias, who 
 wrote about the middle of the second century, spoke truly 
 when he said: 'Mark having become (or having been) Peter's 
 interpreter, wrote all that he remembered (or all that Peter 
 related) though he did not (record) in order that which was 
 
 137 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 said or done by Christ.' In other words, even as Renan admits, 
 the Gospel of Mark must be taken as authentically his. Now 
 Matthew's Gospel depends for most of its data upon Mark and 
 the Collection of sayings. Mark's Gospel does not mention the 
 virgin birth; the Collection probably did. Also, Matthew prob- 
 ably did not write the Gospel attributed to him; but he almost 
 certainly did write the Collection of sayings, from which in 
 part the present Gospel according to Matthew was compiled. 
 Luke's Gospel was undoubtedly written by the physician Luke, 
 Paul's companion, and depended largely for its data upon 
 Mark's Gospel and the Collection of Matthew. Yet we can not 
 say that the omission of mention in the Gospels according to 
 Mark and John of the virgin birth renders the story a legend, 
 in view of our own present great knowledge of the constitu- 
 tion of matter, of material laws, and of the fact that the virgin 
 birth is at least rendered credible by the subsequent very 
 extraordinary career of Jesus. Moreover, remember that our 
 New Testament is a small book, and that it is quite probable 
 that a great mass of literature existed on the subject of Jesus 
 and his work, and that it is possible that other of the disciples 
 wrote treatises, perhaps many of them. How many of these 
 touched on the subject of the virgin birth we may never know. 
 Perhaps none; perhaps all. But this conclusion at least we 
 must accept: the validity of the story of the virgin birth does 
 not rest with the four Gospels which have come down to us 
 out of the great mass of literature which probably once ex- 
 isted. Rather is the probability of the immaculate conception 
 a function of our present knowledge of matter, its pseudo- 
 laws, and the great fact that the entire life of Jesus as reported 
 in all the Gospels lends weight to the belief that his birth was 
 not in the ordinary mortal-mind manner." 
 
 "I accept that," said Hitt. "I believe you are right." 
 "And I," said Carmen, "can not see that the origin of the 
 human channel through which the Christ-principle flowed to 
 mankind is of any consequence. The principle has always 
 existed. Jesus said that it existed before Abraham. It alone 
 is the important thing." 
 
 "Very true," replied Father Waite. "It has been said that 
 the immaculate conception was the result of Mary's realization 
 that real man is the son of God. This is a beautiful thought. 
 Certainly Jesus did seem to manifest some such metaphysical 
 idea. Perhaps Mary was a woman of tremendous force of 
 character. Perhaps it did come to her that her son should be 
 the Messiah of his race. Jesus certainly did acquire the mes- 
 sianic consciousness — and thereby upheaved the world. But, 
 whatever the human mode of birth, certainly the Christ-prin- 
 
 138 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ciple was brought into the -world because of the world's tre- 
 mendous need. It came as a response. It is only the confusing 
 of the Christ with the man Jesus that is so largely responsible 
 for the weakness of orthodox theology. 
 
 "But now, referring again to the Bible, let me say that the 
 Pentateuch is composed of a variety of documents written by 
 various authors. We have no positive proof that Moses had 
 aught to do with its authorship, although parts of it may be 
 based on data which either he originated or sanctioned. The 
 books of Samuel exhibit a plurality of sources. The book of 
 Isaiah was written to record the sayings of at least two persons, 
 both men of marvelous spiritual vision. The Song of Solomon 
 was originally probably a Persian love-poem. The book of Job 
 illustrates the human-mind problem of suffering, and the utter 
 inadequacy of philosophy to heal it. It is a ringing protest 
 against conventional theology. 
 
 "But it is with the New Testament that we are particularly 
 concerned, for we believe it to contain the method of salvation 
 from human ills. None of the original documents are extant, 
 of course. And yet, the most searching textual criticism goes 
 to show that the New Testament books as we have them to-day 
 are genuine reproductions of the original documents, with but 
 very little adulteration of erroneous addition by later hands. 
 This means much to us. I have already spoken of the first 
 three Gospels. The book of Acts certainly was written by the 
 author of the third Gospel, Luke. First Peter was composed by 
 the disciple Peter, or was written under his sanction. The 
 Gospel of John and the book of First John were written by one 
 and the same author — ^but whether by the disciple John or 
 not, I can not say. If this great disciple did not write the 
 Fourth Gospel, at least his influence seems to be felt all through 
 it. The probability is that he knew what was in it, and ap- 
 proved of it, although the actual composition may have been by 
 ahother, possibly a very learned Greek. To me, the Fourth 
 Gospel is the most masterly work ever composed by man. It 
 stands absolutely alone. The criticism that John, being a 
 Jew, could not have composed it, falls before the greater truth 
 that, having become a Christian, he was no longer a Jew. He 
 was a new creature. For how could he have been other, seeing 
 that he had lived with Jesus? 
 
 "And now as to Paul, who contributes about one-third of 
 the New Testament. I have mentioned the letters to the Thes- 
 salonians, Corinthians, Galatians, and Romans as indisputably 
 his. To these we can add, with scarcely less weight of authen- 
 ticity, Colossians, Philemon, Ephesians, and Philippians. As 
 to the Epistles to Timothy and Titus, there is still doubt. These 
 
 139 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 letters were written to the various Churches chronologically, 
 as I have mentioned them. It has been said that Jesus was 
 way over the heads of his reporters! That was inevitable. 
 Even Paul misunderstood hitn at times. But — and here is the 
 important fact for us — Paul's letters exhibit a marvelouis spirit- 
 ual growth in the man, and show him at last to be the grand 
 master-metaphysician of the Christian era. Has it ever oc- 
 curred to you that what the Gospels tell about is almost wholly 
 spiritual? The material is all but neglected by their com- 
 posers. Indeed, with the questions of time and place, the Gos- 
 pel narrators seemed to have been but slightly concerned. But 
 with the delineation of the Christ — ah! that was their theme. 
 They were not writing a biography. They were painting a 
 spiritual portrait. In the light of this great truth the apparent 
 lack of harmony in the Gospel narratives loses significance. 
 And how little there is in the Gospels of theology, of institutioil, 
 of organization! How trifling are creed and, doctrine, how little 
 are Catholicism and Protestantism, compared with the stupend- 
 ous fact that God is, and that His truth, the Christ-principle, 
 is still here to-day and available! ' 
 
 "And so with Paul, he was expounding the 'method and 
 secret' of the Christ. And he first had to work up to it him- 
 self. He may have thought, when he wrote his first letter to 
 the Thessalonians, that the man Jesus would come again in the 
 skies, with great pomp and surrounded by the Saints. But in 
 his second letter he states plainly that the Christ will come 
 when the 'old man' is laid off. Not much occasion for mis- 
 understanding there, I think. Indeed, after Jesus so clearly 
 stated that the kingdom of heaven was within men, the marvel 
 is that there could have arisen any confusion whatsoever on 
 the subject of the second coming of the Christ." 
 
 "I believe," interposed Reverend Moore, "that the Epistle 
 to the Hebrews contains statements of belief in a judgment 
 after death, in a heaven, a hell, and everlasting life, not wholly 
 consistent with your remarks." 
 
 "The Epistle to the Hebrews," returned Father Waite, "was 
 not written by Paul, nor is it quite consistent with his letters. 
 But, read Paul's wonderful eighth chapter of Romans. Read 
 his third chapter Of First Corinthians. Read all his letters in 
 the order in which I have mentioned them, which was as they 
 were written, and you can not fail to grasp his marvelous ex- 
 panding perception of the Christ-principle; the nothingness of 
 the material concept; the impotence of the lie that opposes 
 God, and constitutes all evil ; and the necessity of right-thinking 
 if one would work out his salvation from the errors that assail 
 "mankind. Paul shows that he passed through a 'belief period,' 
 
 140 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 and that he emerged into the light of demonstrable under- 
 standing at last. If men had followed him they never could 
 have fallen into the absurd theological beliefs of foreordina- 
 tion, infant damnation, the resurrection of the flesh, and- all 
 the other theological horrors and atrocities of the centuries. 
 
 "Yes, the .Bible is, as Arnold said, based on propositions 
 which all can verify. The trouble is, rnankind have not tried 
 to verify them! They have relegated all that to the life beyond 
 the grave. I fear a sorry disappointment awaits them, for, 
 even as Paul says, they will be after the change called death 
 only what they were before. It is like recovering from a case 
 of sickness, for sickness and death are alike manifestations of 
 mortal thought, We awake from each still human, still with 
 our problems before us. We must break the mesmerism of 
 the belief that the practical application of Jesus' teachings 
 must be relegated to the realm of death, or to the unattain^ 
 able. We must apply the Christ-principle, and. learn to hit 
 the mark, for sin is always weakness, never strength. 
 
 "And remember this : having acquired a knowledge of the 
 Christ, we are bidden to acknowledge him — that is, to act-our- 
 knowledge. Many of the world's philosophers have worked 
 out great truths. But they have rested content with that. Many 
 scientists, knowing that matter is unreal, nevertheless conduct 
 themselves as if it constituted the one and only real fact of 
 existence! Is error like truth? Decidedly no! It is truth's 
 exact opposite. Is truth real? Certainly it is ! Then its oppo- 
 site can not be real. The human mentality holds the belief 
 that there is something apart from God, spirit. That belief 
 becomes objectified in the human mentality as matter. And 
 within matter is contained all evil of every sort and name. 
 Evil is not, as the philosophers would have us believe, a lower 
 form of good. It is not 'good in the making.' It is always 
 error, the direct opposite of truth. And if truth is real and 
 eternal, error can not be. See the grave mistake in which 
 Emerson became enmeshed- He said : 'There seems to be a 
 necessity in spirit to manifest itself in material forms.' Now 
 follow that out to its logical conclusion. If spirit is synony- 
 mous with God, then God manifests Himself in both good and 
 evil, fair and foul, life and death-^and which is good, and 
 which bad? All is alike the reflection of God. No, my friends, 
 rather accept Jesus' statement that evil is the lie, of which no 
 man need be afraid, and which all must and shall overcome. 
 And the 'old man,' with all his material concepts of nature and 
 the universe, must and will be laid off, thus revealing the spirit- 
 ual man, the image and likeness of the one divine Mind. 
 
 ''Now, just a few words about miracles, the great stumbling 
 
 141 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 block to the acceptance of the Gospels. Are they, together 
 with the entire Gospel narrative, legendary? If so, they must 
 have arisen during those fifty years between Jesus and the 
 recording of the narratives. But this very period is covered 
 by Paul's letters, which record his thought. And even the 
 most relentless of Bible critics admit the genuineness of Paul's 
 authorship of the Epistles to the Romans, the Corinthians, the 
 Thessalonians, and the Galatians. If the Gospel narratives are 
 legends, they grew up and found acceptance in fifty years. A 
 pretty fair miracle in itself, when we take into consideration 
 the inherent incredulity of the human mind ! As Dean Farrar 
 says: 'Who would have invented, who would have merely 
 imagined, things so unlike the thoughts of man as these?' 
 
 "Now Paul must have been acquainted with men who had 
 seen and known Jesus. And we are forced to admit that Paul 
 was a very strong, sane man. These legends could not have 
 grown up in his day and been accepted by him. And as long 
 as there were men living who had known Jesus — and that must 
 have been as late as the last quarter of the first century — the 
 true events of Jesus' life could hardly have given way to a set 
 of childish legends. As a matter of recorded fact, the various 
 Christian Churches had accepted Jesus within thirty years of 
 the crucifixion. And, too, the words of Paul and the Synoptists 
 were written at a time when the sick were still being healed 
 and even the dead raised by the practical application of Jesus' 
 teachings. Hence, miracles did not astonish them. 
 
 "Our own inability to perform the works attributed to 
 Jesus is hardly sufficient ground for denying the belief that 
 he really did them. For what is a miracle? Certainly that the 
 greater portion of the New Testament was written by a few 
 fishermen, a publican, and a tentmaker is one of the most 
 stupendous miracles on record! And the miracle of miracles 
 is Jesus Christ himself! Because Jesus is reported to have 
 healed the sick, raised the dead, and walked the waves, all in 
 opposition to material laws — the so-called laws of nature — the 
 world says the reports are fantastic, that they are fables, and 
 that his reporters were hypnotized, deluded! And yet 1 tell 
 you that he did not break a single law ! He did act in defiance 
 of the so-called testimony of the physical senses, which has 
 always been accepted by mankind as law. We now know 
 what that sense-testimony is — human, mortal thought. He 
 did rise above human consciousness of evil. And because he 
 did so, he instantaneously healed the sick. A miracle ex- 
 presses, not the beliefs of the human mind, but the law of 
 God, infinite mind, and makes that law conceivable to the hu- 
 man mentality. God's laws are never set aside, for by very 
 
 142 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 definition a law is immutable, else it ceases to be law. But 
 when the human mind grows out of itself sufficiently to per- 
 ceive those laws and to express them to its fellow-minds, the 
 result is called a miracle. Moreover, the ability to perform 
 miracles is but a function of spirituality. A miracle is a sign 
 of one's having advanced to such a degree of spirituality as to 
 enable him to rise above material consciousness and its limita- 
 tions, which are called laws. The consciousness that knows 
 no evil will perform miracles. The early Christians did great 
 works. These works were the 'signs following,' and attested 
 their knowledge of the allness of God. A miracle is simply a 
 proof of God. Carmen — " 
 
 "Lewis!" protested the girl. 
 
 "Let me say it, please. Carmen knew that no power op- 
 posed to God could hold Sidney. And the 'sign' followed. Yes, 
 she performed a miracle. She broke a human-mind, so-called 
 law, a limitation. She proved God's law of harmony and holi- 
 ness — ^wholeness — to be omnipresent and omnipotent. And, 
 mark me, friends, every one of us must learn to do likewise! 
 Not only must the Church obey Jesus and do the works which 
 he did, but every individual will have to do them himself." 
 
 "His works were done for a special reason, Mr. Waite," 
 interposed Reverend Moore. "They were to testify to his 
 messiahship. They are not required of iis." 
 
 Father Waite silently regarded the minister for some mo- 
 ments. Then he went on gently: 
 
 "It seems incredible that the plain teachings of Jesus could 
 have been so warped and twisted as they have been by ortho- 
 dox theology. Christianity is so simple! Why should even 
 the preachers themselves condemn the one who seeks to obey 
 Christ? Mr. Moore, the real man is God's highest idea of 
 Himself. The human mind makes mental concepts of God's 
 man. And Jesus was the grandest concept of God's idea of 
 Himself that the human mind has ever constructed by means 
 of its interpretations. He was the image of truth. One of 
 his grandest characteristics was his implicit obedience to his 
 vision of the Father. And he demanded just as implicit obe- 
 dience from us. But he bade us, again and again, heal the sick 
 and raise the dead!" 
 
 "We heal the sick! We have our physicians!" 
 
 "Yes? And Asa had his physicians to whom he turned^— 
 with the result that he 'slept with his fathers.' There is no 
 more ironical statement in the whole Bible than that. We turn 
 to our physicians because we have no faith in God. Materia 
 medica physicians do not heal the sick. They sometimes suc- 
 ceed in causing the human mind temporarily to substitute a 
 
 143 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 belief of health for a belief of disease, that is all. But Jesus 
 and the early Christians healed liy true prayer — the prayer of 
 affirmation, the prayer that denied reality to evil, and affirmed 
 the omnipotence of God. And that was done through an un- 
 derstanding of God as immutable law, or principle." 
 
 "Would you pray to a principle?" demanded Reverend 
 Moore, with a note of contempt in his voice. "I prefer my own 
 concept of God, as one who hears our petitions, and pities us, 
 and not as a lifeless principle!" 
 
 "God is principle, Mr. Moore," replied Father Waite, "in that 
 He is 'that by which all is.' And in order to be such He must 
 be, as the Bible says, 'the same yesterday, to-day, and forever.' 
 He must be immovable, regardless of human pleading and 
 petition. And so true prayer, the prayer that draws an an- 
 swer, is not an objective appeal to Him, but is an intelligent 
 application of the Christ-principle to all our problems and 
 needs. Such prayer will remove mountains in proportion to 
 the understanding and motive back of it. And such prayer 
 does not seek to inform the Almighty^ of the state of affairs 
 here among men, informing Him that evil is real and rampant, 
 and begging that He will stoop down and remove it. It is the 
 prayer that manifests man's oneness with the infinite mind 
 as its image, reflecting a knowledge of the allness of good and 
 the consequent unreality and powerlessness of evil, the lie 
 about it. It was healing by such prayer, Mr. Moore, that the 
 Episcopal Synod rejected only recently. Instead of doing the 
 healing themselves by means of the principle given them, they 
 still plead with God, the immovable and immutable, to do it 
 for them, provided the very uncertain science of materia med- 
 ico fails. 
 
 "The true method of prayer was employed by the early 
 Christians, until the splendid vision of the Christ became ob- 
 scured and finally lost to the Church by its bargaining with 
 Constantine for a mess of pottage, namely, temporal power. 
 Then began to rise that great worldly institution, the so-called 
 Holy Church. In the first half of the sixth century Justinian 
 closed the schools of philosophy at Athens. For a while 
 Judaizing Christianity continued its conflict with Gnosticism. 
 And then both merged themselves into the Catholic form of 
 faith, which issued forth from Romct with Christian tradition 
 grafted upon paganism. Theology and ritualism divided the 
 gospel of healing the sick and saving the sinner into two 
 radically different systems, neither of which is Christian, and 
 neither of which can either heal or save. Since then, lip-service 
 and ceremonial have taken the place of healing the sick and 
 raising the dead. The world again slipped back steadily from 
 
 144 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the spiritual to the material, and to-day ethics constitutes our 
 religion, and stupid drugs hold sway where once sat enthroned 
 the healing Christ-principle." 
 
 "I would remind you, Mr. Waite, that I have Catholic lean- 
 ings myself," said Doctor Siler. "I don't like to hear either my 
 religion or my profession abused." 
 
 "My criticism. Doctor," replied Father Waite, "is but an 
 exposure of the entrenched beliefs and modes of the human 
 mind." 
 
 "But, sir, the Church is a great social force, and a present 
 necessity." 
 
 "The worth of a belief as a social force, Doctor, must be 
 ascertained from its fruits. The Roman Church has been an 
 ^ge-long instigator of wars, disorders, and atrocious persecu- 
 tions throughout the world. Its assumption that its creed is 
 the only religious truth is an insult to the world's expanding 
 intelligence. Its arrogant claim to speak with the authority 
 of God is one of the anomalies- of this century of enlightenment. 
 Its mesmeric influence upon the poor and ignorant is a con- 
 tinuous tragedy." 
 
 "The poor and ignorant! Are you unmindful of the 
 Church's schools and hospitals?" 
 
 "No, Doctor. Nor am I ignorant of the fact that the suc- 
 cess of Christianity is not measured by hospitals. Rather, 
 their continuance attests the lamentable failure of its orthodox 
 misinterpretation. I have been a priest. Doctor. I do not want 
 to see this splendid country forced into the iron shackles of 
 priestcraft." 
 
 "It can not happen here!" cried Haynerd, pounding the 
 table with his fist. "The time has passed when a man can say, 
 'My church, be she right or wrong, but my church!' and insist 
 that it shall be forced upon us, whether we like it or not!" 
 
 "Doctor," continued Father Waite, "the Romanist has al- 
 ways missed the mark. He prayed to a God of love to give him 
 power to exterminate heretics — those who differed with him in 
 belief. But he prayed with iniquity, hatred, murder in his 
 heart; and God, who is too pure to know evil, heard him not. 
 Prayer is the affirmation of omnipotent good. Is it good to 
 murder one's fellow-men? The Psalmist wrote: 'If I regard 
 iniquity in my heart the Lord will not hear me.' That is why 
 the Church's prayers and curses have failed, and why she her- 
 self is a failing institution to-day. I say this in pity, not in 
 malice." 
 
 "I, sir, believe in a religion that can hate," returned the 
 doctor. "Christianity is as much a religion of hate as of love 
 — ^hatred of all that is evil and opposed to the revealed Word 
 of God." 
 
 ss 145 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "And thereby your religion will fail, and has failed, for God 
 is love. You, by your hatred of what you consider evil, make 
 evil real. Indeed, the Church has always emphasized evil as a 
 great and living reality. How could it ever hope to overcome 
 it then? Your Church, Doctor, has little of the meekness of 
 the Christ, and so, little of his strength. It has little of his 
 spirituality. Its numbers and great material wealth do not 
 constitute power. Its assumptions remind me of the ancient 
 Jews, who declared that God spent much of His time reading 
 their Talmud. You will have to lay aside, Doctor, all of it, 
 and turn to the simple, demonstrable teachings of Jesus. 
 When you have learned to do the works he did, then will you 
 have justified yourself and your faith." 
 
 While Father Waite was speaking. Carmen had quietly risen 
 and taken her place at the piano. When he concluded, she 
 began to play and sing softly. As the sweet melody flowed out 
 through the room the little group became silent and thought- 
 ful. Again it was that same weird lament which the girl had 
 sung long before in the Elwin school to voice the emotions 
 which surged up in her during her loneliness in the great city. 
 In it her auditors heard again that night the echoing sighs of 
 the passive Indians, enslaved by the Christian Spaniards. 
 Hitt's head sank upon his breast as he listened. Haynerd tried 
 to speak, but choked. The Beaubien buried her face in her 
 hands and wept softly. The lines about Doctor Siler's mouth 
 relaxed, and his lips trembled. He rose quietly and went 
 around to where Father Waite sat. 
 
 "My friend — " He bent and took Father Waite's hand. 
 "We are — friends?" 
 
 Father Waite sprang to his feet and threw an arm about 
 the doctor. "We are rnore than that. Doctor," he whispered. 
 "We are brothers. And in reality we are both, here and now, 
 beloved children of God." 
 
 Doctor Siler bowed. Then he nodded to the others, and took 
 his departure. As he passed the piano Carmen rose and seized 
 his hand. 
 
 "You know, Doctor, that we love you, don't you?" 
 
 "Your love," he murmured, as he bent over her hand, "is 
 from the Christ. Nay, it is the Christ himself among us!" 
 
 He would have said more, but his voice broke. Then he 
 went out. 
 
 When Hitt, Reverend Moore, and Doctor Morton had left, 
 Haynerd, who had remained for a moment to speak' to Father 
 Waite, turned to the Beaubien. 
 
 "Madam," he said, "Mr. Hitt is a remarkable man. He is 
 conducting a remarkable newspaper. But — " He stopped and 
 
 146 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 looked at Carmen. "Well, if I mistake not, his quietness this 
 evening indicated his belief that this might be our last meet- 
 ing for some time." 
 
 "Why. Ned?" 
 
 Haynerd shook his head dubiously. Then, abruptly: 
 
 "Telephone me. Carmen, if anything of interest comes up 
 to-morrow in Avon," 
 
 The Beaubien turned quickly to the girl. "You are going to 
 Avon to-morrow? Don't! Please don't!" There was a look 
 of fear in her eyes. 
 
 Carmen drew the woman to her, then stooped and kissed her 
 cheek. "Mother dearest, I go to Avon with my God." 
 
 The Beaubien bowed her head. She knew it was so. 
 
 And the girl went early the next morning. 
 
 CHAPTER 11 
 
 THE town of Avon, two hours from New York, lay along 
 Avon creek, from which its first manufacturing industries 
 derived their motive power. Years before, when it was 
 little more than a barren stretch of sand, some enterprising 
 soul had built a cotton mill there, with only a few primitive 
 looms. As the years passed,, and kindly Congresses reared 
 about the industry a high protective wall, the business pros- 
 pered marvelously. But shortly after the death of the senior 
 Ames the company became involved, through mismanagement, 
 with the result that, to protect itself, the house of Ames and 
 Company, the largest creditor, was obliged to take over its 
 mills. 
 
 At first, J. Wilton Ames was disposed to sell the assets of 
 the defunct company, despite the loss to his bank. But then, 
 after a visit of inspection, and hours of meditation on certain 
 ideas which had occurred to him, he decided to keep the prop- 
 erty. The banging of the looms, the whirr of the pickers, the 
 sharp little shrieks of the spinning machines, fascinated him, 
 as he stood before them. They seemed to typify the ceaseless 
 throbbing of his own great brain. They seemed, too, to afford 
 another outlet for that mighty flood of materialistic thought 
 and energy which flowed incessantly through it. 
 
 And so he set about reorganizing the business. He studied 
 the process of cloth manufacture. He studied the growth and 
 handling of cotton. He familiarized himself with every detail 
 of the cotton market. He was already well versed in the in- 
 tricacies of the tariff. And soon the idle machinery was roar- 
 
 147 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ing again. Soon the capacity of the mills was doubled. And 
 soon, very soon, the great Ames mills at Avon had become a 
 corporate part of our stupendous mechanical development of 
 the century just closed. 
 
 When Carmen stepped from the train that morning she 
 stood for a moment looking uncertainly about her. Every- 
 where on one side as far as she could see were low, ramshackle 
 frame houses ; a few brick store buildings stood far up the main 
 street; and over at her right the enormous brick mills loomed 
 high above the frozen stream. The dull roar of the machinery 
 drifted through the cold air to her ears. Up the track, along 
 which she had just come, some ragged, illy clad children were 
 picking up bits of coal. The sight seemed to fix her decision. 
 She went directly to them, and asked their names. 
 
 "Anton Spivak," answered one of the children dully, when 
 she laid a hand on his shoulder. 
 
 "And where do you live?" 
 
 "Over dere," pointing off to the jungle of decrepit sheds. 
 "Me an' him, we worked in de mills; but dere ain't lio work 
 fer us now. Dey's on half time." 
 
 "Take me to your home," she said firmly. 
 
 The boy looked his astonishment. "Dere ain't nobody to 
 home," he replied. "De ol' man an' woman works in de mills 
 daytimes." 
 
 "Come-a home wi' me," spoke up the boy's companion, a 
 bright-faced little urchin of some ten years who had given his 
 name as Tony Tolesi. "We lives iri de tenements." 
 
 Carmen looked at him for a moment. "Come," she said. 
 
 Up the main street of the town they went for a short dis- 
 tance, then turned and wended their course, through narrow 
 streets and byways, down toward the mills. In a few minutes 
 they were in the district where stood the great frame structures 
 built by the Ames company to house its hands. Block after 
 block of these they passed, massive, horrible, decrepit things, 
 and at last stopped at a grease-stained, broken door, which 
 the little fellow pushed open. The hall beyond was dark and 
 cold. Carmen followed shivering, close after the boy, while he 
 trotted along, proud of the responsibility of conducting a visitor 
 to his home. At the far end of the hall the lad plunged into 
 a narrow staircase, so narrow that a stout man could not have 
 mounted it. Up four of these broken flights Carmen toiled 
 after him, and then down a long, desolate corridor, which sent 
 a chill into the very marrow of her bones. 
 
 "Dis is where we lives. Missy," announced the little fellow. 
 "Miss-a Marcus, she live in dere," pointing to the door directly 
 opposite. "She ain't got only one arm." 
 
 148 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 He pushed open the door before which they had halted. A 
 rush of foul air and odors of cooking swept out. They en- 
 veloped the girl and seemed to hurl her back. A black-haired 
 woman, holding a crying baby in her arms, rose hastily from 
 an unmade bed at one side of the room. Two little girls, six 
 or eight years of age, and a boy still younger, ranged about 
 their mother and stared in wide-eyed wonder. 
 
 "Dis-a lady, she come to visit," announced Carmen's guide 
 abruptly, pointing a dirty finger at her.* 
 
 The woman's face darkened, and she spoke harshly in a 
 foreign tongue to the little fellow. 
 
 "She say," the boy interpreted, as a crestfallen look spread 
 over his face, "she say she don't spik Inglese." 
 
 "But I speak your language," said the girl, going quickly to 
 her and extending a hand. Then, in that soft tongue which is 
 music celestial to these Neapolitan strangers upon our inhospi- 
 table shores, she added, "I want to know you; I want to talk 
 to you." 
 
 She glanced quickly about the room. A littered, greasy 
 cook stove stood in one corner. Close to it at either end were 
 wooden couches, upon which were strewn a few tattered spreads 
 and blankets, stained and grimy. A broken table, a decrepit 
 chest of drawers, and a few rickety chairs completed the com- 
 plement of furniture. The walls were unadorned, except for 
 a stained chromo of the Virgin, and the plaster had fallen away 
 in many places. There was only one window in the room. Sev- 
 eral of its panes were broken and stuffed with rags and papers. 
 
 At the sound of her own language the woman's expression 
 changed. A light came into her dull eyes, and she awkwardly 
 took the proffered hand. 
 
 "You are — from Italy?" she said in her native tongue. 
 Then, sweeping the girl's warm attire with a quick glance, "You 
 are rich! Why do you come here?" 
 
 "Your little boy brought me. And I am glad he did. No, I 
 am not from Italy. I am rich, yes, but not in money." 
 
 The woman turned to her children and sent the little brood 
 scattering. At another sh^rp command little Tony set out a 
 soiled, broken chair for Carmen. But before the girl could take 
 it the woman's voice again rose sharply. 
 
 "Wait!" she commanded, turning fiercely upon Carmen. 
 "You are — ^what do you say? slumming. You come with your 
 gay party to look us over and go away laughing! No! You 
 can not stay!" 
 
 Carmen did not smile. But reaching out, she gently lifted 
 the heavy baby from the woman's arms and sat down with it. 
 For a moment she patted its cheeks and bent tenderly over it. 
 Then she looked up at the bewildered mother. 
 
 149 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "I have come here," she said softly, "because I love you." 
 
 The woman's lips parted in astonishment. She turned 
 dully and sat down on one of the begrimed beds. Her little 
 ones gathered about her, their soiled fingers in their mouths, or 
 clutching their tattered gowns, as they gazed at the beautiful 
 creature who had suddenly come into their midst. 
 
 Then the woman found her voice again. "Eh! You are 
 from the mission? You come to talk of heaven? But I am 
 busy." • 
 
 "I am not from the mission," replied the girl gently. "I 
 have come to talk, not of heaven, but of earth, and of you, and 
 of Tony," smiling down into the eager face of the little boy as 
 he stood before her. 
 
 "You can't have Tony!" cried the mother, starting up. "You 
 can't take any of my children! The judge took Pietro Cor- 
 rello's boy last week — but you can't have mine ! Go away from 
 here!" 
 
 "I don't want your children," said Carmen, smiling up at the 
 frightened, suspicious mother. "I want gou. I want you to 
 help me to help all of these people here who need us. The 
 mills are running only half time, aren't they? The people do 
 not have enough to eat. But we, you and I, are going to make 
 things better for them, for everybody here, aren't we? 
 
 "But first," she went on hastily, to further allay the poor 
 woman's fears and to check additional protest, "suppose we 
 plan our dinner. Let's see, Tony, what would you like?" 
 
 The boy's lips instantly parted. His eyes began to glisten. 
 He glanced inquiringly at his mother; but no sign came from 
 her. Then he could no longer contain himself: 
 
 "Spaghetti!" he blurted. "Soup! Buns!" 
 
 Carmen drew out her purse and turned to the woman. 
 "Come with me," she said. "While we are gone, Tony and the 
 children will wash the dishes and set the table. Come." 
 
 For a moment the woman looked uncomprehendingly at the 
 girl, then at her childrtn, and then about the miserable room 
 in which they were huddled. Amazement and confusion sat 
 upon her heavy features. Then these gave way to another 
 dark look of suspicion. She open'ed her mouth — 
 
 But before she could voice her resentment, Carmen rose and 
 threw an arm about her. Then the girl quickly drew the 
 startled woman to her and kissed her on the cheek. "Come," 
 she whispered, "get your shawl. We'll be back soon." 
 
 God's universal language is the language of love. All na- 
 tions, all tribes understand it. The flood-gates, long barred, 
 swiftly opened, and the tired, miserable woman sank sobbing 
 upon the bed. She could not comprehend what it was that 
 
 150 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 had come so unannounced into her dreary existence that cold 
 ■winter morning. People were not wont to treat her so. Her 
 life had been an endless, meaningless struggle against misery, 
 want, grinding oppression. People did not put their arms 
 around her and kiss her thus. They scoffed at her, they 
 abused her, they fought with her! She hated them, and the 
 world in which she lived! 
 
 "I know, I know," whispered Carmen, as she drew the sob- 
 bing woman's head upon her shoulder, "But things will be 
 better now. Love has found you." 
 
 The woman suddenly raised up. "You^-you are — from 
 heaven? An angel?" She drew back, and a frightened, super- 
 stitious look came into her face. 
 
 "Yes," said Carmen softly, taking the cue, "I am an angel, 
 right from heaven. Now you are no longer afraid of me, are 
 you? Come." 
 
 The woman rose mechanically and took up her thin shawl. 
 Carmen gave a few directions to the gaping children. And as 
 she went out into the bleak hall with the woman she heard one 
 of them whisper in- tones of awe : 
 
 "Tony, she said she — she was — an angel! Quick! Get 
 down on your knees and cross yourself!" 
 
 • •••♦♦ 
 
 Upward to the blue vault of heaven, like the streaming mists 
 that rise through the tropic moonlight from the hot llanos, 
 goes the ceaseless cry of humanity. Oh, if the god of the 
 preachers were real, his heart must have long since broken! 
 Upward it streams, this soul-piercing cry; up from the sodden, 
 dull-brained toiler at the crashing loom; up from the wretched 
 outcast woman, selling herself to low passions to escape the 
 slavery of human exploitation; up from the muttering, ill-fed 
 wreck, whose life has been cashed into dividends, whose dry* 
 worthless hulk now totters to the scrap heap; up from the 
 white-haired, flat-chested mother, whose stunted babes lie under 
 little mounds with rude, wooden crosses in the dreary textile 
 burial grounds; up from the weak, the wicked, the ignorant, 
 the hopeless martyrs of the satanic social system that makes 
 possible the activities of such human vultures as the colossus 
 whose great mills now hurled their defiant roar at this girl, this 
 girl whose life-motif was love. 
 
 Close about her, at the wretched little table, sat the wonder- 
 ing group of children, greedily gorging themselves on the only 
 full meal that they could remember. And with them sat the 
 still bewildered mother, straining her dark eyes at the girl, and 
 striving to see in her a human being, a woman like herself. At 
 her right sat the widow Marcus, who lived just across the hall. 
 
 151 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 Her husband had been crushed to death in one of the pickers 
 two years before. The company had paid her a hundred dol- 
 lars, but had kept back five for alleged legal fees. She herself 
 had lost an arm in one of these same pickers, long ago, because 
 the great owner of the mills would not equip his plant with 
 safety devices. 
 
 "Come, Tony!" said the mother at length, as a sense of the 
 reality of life suddenly returned to her. "The lunch for your 
 father!" 
 
 Tony hurriedly swept the contents of his plate into his 
 mouth, and went for the battered dinner pail. 
 
 "My man goes to work at six-thirty in the morning," she 
 explained to Carmen, when the little fellow had started to the 
 mills with the pail unwontedly full. "And he does not leave 
 until five-thirty. He was a weaver, and he earned sometimes 
 ten dollars a week. But he didn't last. He wore out. And so 
 he had to take a job as carder. He earns about eight dollars a 
 week now. But sometimes only six or seven." 
 
 "But you can't live on that, with your children!" exclaimed 
 Carmen. 
 
 "Yes, we could," replied the woman, "if the work was steady. 
 But it' isn't. You see, if I could work steady, and the children 
 too, we could live. I am a good spinner. And I am not nearly 
 so worn out as he is. I have several years left in me yet." 
 
 The widow Marcus, who spoke the language from an as- 
 sociation with Italian immigrants since childhood, added her 
 comments from time to time. She was a gray-haired, kindly 
 soul, bearing no enmity toward the man to whom she had 
 yielded her husband's life and her own. 
 
 "A man's no good in the mills after he's fifty," she said. 
 "You see. Miss, it's all piece-work, and a man has to be most 
 terribly spry and active. The strain is something awful, day 
 after day, in the noise and bad air, and having to keep your 
 eyes fixed on your work for ten hours at a stretch; and he wears 
 out fast. Then he has to take a job where he can't make so 
 much. And when he's about fifty he's no good for the mills 
 any more." 
 
 "And then what?" asked Carmen. 
 
 "Well, if he hasn't any children, he goes to the poor-house. 
 But, if he has, then they take care of him.". 
 
 "Then mill workers must have' large families?" 
 
 "Yes, they've got to. Miss. The little ones must work in the 
 mills, too. These mills here take them on when they are only 
 twelve, or even younger. Tony has worked there, and he is 
 only ten. It's against the law; but Mr. Ames gets around the 
 law some way." 
 
 152 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Tell me, Mrs. Marcus, how do you live?" the girl asked. 
 
 "I? Oh, I manage. The company paid me some money 
 two years ago, and I haven't spent all of it yet. Besides, I work 
 round a bit. I'm pretty spry with one arm." 
 
 "But — ^you do not pay rent for your home?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. I have only one room. It's small. There's no 
 window in it. It's an inside room." 
 
 "And you pay rent — to Mr. Ames — the man whose machines 
 killed your husband and took off your arm — ^you still pay rent 
 to him, for one little room?" 
 
 "Yes, Miss. He owns these tenements. Why, his company 
 gave me almost a hundred dollars, you know! I was lucky, 
 for when Lizzie Sidel's man lost his hand in the cog wheels he 
 went to law to sue the company, and three years afterward the 
 case was- thrown out of court and he had to pay the costs him- 
 self. But he was a picker-boss, and got nine dollars a week." 
 
 A little hand stole up along Carmen's arm. She looked down 
 into the wondering face of the child. "I — I just wanted to see, 
 Signorina, if you were real." 
 
 "I have been wondering that myself, dear," replied the ^irl, 
 as her thought dwelt upon what she had been hearing. - 
 
 "I must go now, Miss," said the widow Marcus, rising. "I 
 promised to drop in and look after Katie Hoolan's children this 
 afternoon. She's up at the mills." 
 
 "Then I will go with you," Carmen announced. "But I will 
 come back here," she added, as some little hands seized hers. 
 "If not to-day, then soon— perhaps to-morrow." 
 
 She crossed the cold hall with Mrs. Marcus, and entered the 
 doorway which led to the little inner room where dwelt the 
 widow. There were a dozen such rooms in the building, the 
 latter informed her. This one in particular had been shunned 
 for many years, for it had a bad reputation as a breeder of 
 tuberculosis. But the rent was low, and so the widow had 
 taken it after her man was killed. It contained a broken stove, 
 a dirty bed, and a couple of unsteady chairs. The odor was 
 fetid. The walls were damp, and the paper which had once 
 covered them was molding and rotting off. 
 
 "It won't stay on," the widow explained, as she saw the 
 girl looking at it. "The walls are wet all the time. . Comes up 
 from the cellar. The creek overflows and runs into the base- 
 ment. They call this the 'death-room.' " 
 
 Death! Carmen shuddered when she looked about this 
 fearful human habitation. Yet, "The only death to be feared," 
 said Paracelsus, "is unconsciousness of God." Was this im- 
 poverished woman, then, any less truly alive than the rich 
 owner of the mills which had robbed her of the means of ex- 
 
 153 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 istence? And can a civilization be alive to the Christ when it 
 breeds these antipodal types? 
 
 "And yet, who permits them?" Haynerd had once exclaimed. 
 "Ames's methods are the epitome of hell! But he is ours, and 
 the worthy offspring of our ghastly, inhuman social system. 
 We alone are to blame that he debauches courts, that he blinds 
 executives, and that he buys legislatures! We let him make 
 the laws, and fatten upon the prey he takes within their limits. 
 Aye, he is the crafty, vicious, gold-imbruted manifestation of 
 a whole nation's greed!" Nay, more, he is the externalization 
 of a people's ignorance of God. 
 
 Carmen's throat filled as she watched the old woman bust- 
 ling about the wretched room and making a feeble attempt at 
 order. 
 
 "You see," the widow went on, happy in the possession of 
 an auditor, "there is no use making apologies for the looks of 
 my room; I couldn't make it look much better if I tried. There's 
 no running water. We have to get water from the hydrant 
 down back of the house. It is pumped there from the creek, 
 and it's a long climb up these stairs when you've got only one 
 arm to hold the bucket. And I have to bring my coal up, too. 
 The coal dealer charges extra for bringing it up so far." 
 
 Carmen sat down on an empty box and watched her. The 
 woman's lot seemed to have touched the depths of human 
 wretchedness, and yet there burned within her soul a some- 
 thing that . the oppression of human avarice could not extin- 
 guish. 
 
 "It's the children. Miss, that I think about," she continued. 
 "It's not so bad as when I was a little one and worked in the 
 cloth mills in England. I was only six when I went into the mills 
 there. I worked from seven in the morning until after six at 
 night. And the air was so bad and we got so tired that we 
 children used to fall asleep, and the boss used to carry a stick 
 to whip us to keep us awake. My parents died when I was 
 only eight. They worked in the Hollow-ware works, and died 
 of lead poisoning. People only last four or five years at that 
 work." 
 
 Carmen rose. "How many children are employed in these 
 mills here?" she asked. 
 
 "I can't say. Miss. But hundreds of them." 
 
 "I want to see them," said the girl, and there was a hitch in 
 her voice as she spoke, 
 
 "You can go down and watch them come out about six this 
 evening. It's a sight to a stranger. But now I must hurry to 
 look after the Hoolan babes." 
 
 When she again reached the street Carmen turned and 
 
 154 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 looked up at the hideous structure from which she had 
 emerged; then she drew a long breath. The foul air of the 
 "death-room" seemed to fill her lungs as with leaden weights. 
 The dim light that lay over the wretched hovel hung like a 
 veil before her eyes. 
 
 "Katie lives a block down the street," said the widow, point- 
 ing in the direction, "She was burned out last winter. These 
 tenements don't have fire-escapes, and the one she lived in 
 burned to the ground in an hour. She lived on the second floor, 
 and got out. But — six were burned to death." 
 
 It seemed to Carmen as she listened to the woman that the 
 carnal mind's chamber of horrors was externalized there in the 
 little town of Avon, existing with the dull consent of a people 
 too ignorant, too imbruted, too mesmerized by the false values 
 of life to rise and destroy it. 
 
 All that cold winter afternoon the girl went from door to 
 door. There was no thought of fear when she met dull wel- 
 comes, scowls, and menacing glances. In humble homes and 
 wretched hovels; to Magyar, Pole, Italian alike; to French Ca- 
 nadian, Irish and Portuguese; and to the angry, the defiant, the 
 sodden, the crushed, she unfolded her simple banner of love, 
 the boundless love that discriminates not, the love that sees not 
 things, but the thoughts and intents of the heart that lie behind 
 them. And dark looks faded, and tears came; withered hearts 
 opened, and lifeless souls stirred anew. She knew their lan- 
 guages; and that knowledge unlocked their mental portals to 
 her. She knew their thoughts, and the blight under which they 
 molded; and that knowledge fell like the sun's bright rays 
 upon them. She knew God, their God and hers; and that 
 knowledge began, even on that dull, gray afternoon, to cut into 
 the chains of human rapacity which enslaved them. 
 
 At six that evening she stood at the tall iron gate of the mill 
 yard. Little Tony was at her side, clutching her hand. A 
 single electric lamp across the street threw a flickering, yellow 
 light upon the snow. The great, roaring mills were ablaze with 
 thousands of glittering eyes. Suddenly their monster sirens 
 shrieked, a blood-curdling yell. Then their huge mouths 
 opened, and a human flood belched forth. 
 
 Carmen gazed vdth riveted sight. They were not the image 
 and likeness of God, these creatures, despite the doctrinal plati- 
 tudes of the Reverend Darius Borwell and the placid Doctor 
 Jurges. They were not alive, these stooping, shuffling things, 
 despite the fact that the religiously contented Patterson Moore 
 would argue that God had breathed the spirit of life into the 
 thing of dust which He created. And these children, drifting 
 past in a great, surging throng! Fathers and mothers of a 
 
 155 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 generation to come! Garmen knew that many of them, despite 
 their worn looks, were scarcely more than ten years old. These 
 were the flesh and blood upon which Ames, the jungle-beast, 
 waxed gross! Upon their thin life-currents floated the mag- 
 nificent Cossack! 
 
 She turned away in silence. Yes, she was right, evil can 
 not be really known. There is no principle by which to explain 
 the hideous things of the human mind. And then she wondered 
 what the Reverend Darius Borwell did to earn that comfortable 
 salary of ten thousand a year in his rich New York church. 
 
 "It's quite a sight, ain't it. Miss?" said a voice close by. 
 
 Carmen turned and confronted a priest. He was a man of 
 medium height, young, and of Irish descent. 
 
 "It's a great sight," he continued, with a touch Of brogue m 
 his tones. "Hey, Fagin!" he cried, catching a passing work- 
 man's arm. "Where's Ross?" 
 
 "He ain't worked to-day. Father," replied the man, stopping 
 and touching his cap. 
 
 The young priest uttered an exclamation of displeasure. 
 Then, as the workman started away: 
 
 "You'll be at the Hall to-night, Fagin? And bring everybody 
 you can." 
 
 The man addressed nodded and gave an affirmative grunt, 
 then passed on into the darkness. 
 
 "It's trying to reach a few of 'em I am," remanked the 
 priest. "But it's slow work. When a man's stomach's empty 
 he hasn't much respect for morality. And I can't feed the lot 
 of 'em!" 
 
 Carmen gazed into the kindly blue eyes of the priest and 
 wondered. "How are you reaching them?" she asked. "I am 
 very much interested." 
 
 The priest returned the girl's searching look. "In settle- 
 ment work?" he queried. 
 
 "No — but I am interested in my fellow-beings." 
 
 "Ah, then you'll understand. I've some rooms, some on 
 Main street, which I call the Hall, and some down in the — wefl, 
 the bad district, which I call the Mission. They're reading 
 rooms, places for men to meet, and get acquainted, and rest, 
 and talk. The Hall's for the fellows who work, like this Fagin. 
 The Mission's for the down-and-outs." 
 
 "But — are your rooms only for — for men of your faith?" 
 
 "Nary a bit !" exclaimed the priest with a little laugh. "Race 
 or religion don't figure. It's to give help to every man that 
 needs it." 
 
 "And yoii are giving your life to help these people?" the girl 
 went on. "I want to see your Hall and Mission. Take me to 
 them," she abruptly demanded. 
 
 156 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The priest gave a start of surprise. He looked down at 
 little Tony, and then up at Carmen again. 
 
 "Come," she said. "We will leave the boy at his door, and 
 then go to your Mission and Hall. Now tell me, you are a 
 Roman Catholic priest?" 
 
 "Yes," he said mechanically, following her as she started 
 away. 
 
 "How did you happen to get into this sort of work?" she 
 pursued. 
 
 "Oh, I've been at it these ten years!" he returned, now re- 
 covered from his surprise, and pleased to talk about his work. 
 "I'd had some experience in New York in the Bowery district. 
 I came to the conclusion that there were mighty few down-and- 
 outs who couldn't be set upon their pins again, given half a 
 chance by any one suflQciently interested. There's the point. 
 You see. Miss, I believe in my fellow-men. The results have 
 justified my labors. Oh, it's only temporary, I know. It ain't 
 going to change the whole social system. It's a makeshift. 
 But it helps a bit — and I like it. 
 
 "But," he continued more seriously, "there's going to be 
 trouble here. A strike is coming. And it's going to be a bad 
 one. I wish I could convince Mr. Ames." 
 
 "Have you tried?" she asked. 
 
 "I've written him several times of late. It doesn't do any 
 good. His secretary writes back that Mr. Ames is doing all he 
 can. But it's not much I see he's doing, except to go on sucking 
 the blood from these poor devils down here!" 
 
 They soon reached the tenement where Tony lived, and Car- 
 men asked the priest to go up with her. He raised a hand and 
 smiled. 
 
 "No," he said, "the good woman doesn't like priests. And 
 my labors don't reach the women anyway, except through the 
 men. They constitute my field. Some one else must work 
 among the women. I'll wait for you here." 
 
 It was only by making many promises that Carmen could 
 at last get away from the little group on the fourth floor. But 
 she slipped a bill into Tony's hands as she went out, and then 
 hurriedly crossed the hall and opened the unlocked door of 
 the widow Marcus's room. The place was empty. Carmen 
 pinned a five-dollar bill upon the pillow and hastened out. 
 
 "Now," said the priest, when the girl had joined him in the 
 street below, "it ain't right to take you to the Mission — " 
 
 "We'll go there first," the girl calmly announced. "And 
 then to the Hall. By the way, there's a telephone in your place? 
 I want to call up the health officer. I want tO report the con- 
 dition of these tenements." 
 
 157 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The priest laughed. "It won't do any good, Miss. I've 
 camped on his heels for months. And he can't do anything, 
 anyway. I see that. If he gets too troublesome to those higher 
 up, ^hy, he gets fired. They don't want his reports. He isn't 
 here to report on conditions, but to overlook 'em. It's politics." 
 
 "You mean to say that nothing can be done in regard to 
 those awful buildings which Mr. Ames owns and rents to his 
 mill hands?" she said. 
 
 "That's it," he replied. "It's criminal to let such, buildings 
 stand. But Ames owns 'em. That's enough." 
 
 They went on in silence for some minutes. Meanwhile, the 
 priest was studying his fair companion, and wondering who 
 she might be. At length he inquired if she had ever been in 
 Avon before. 
 
 "No," replied the girl. "I wish I had!" 
 
 "Haven't seen Pillette's house then? He's resident manager 
 of the Ames mills. We can go a little out of our way iand 
 have a look at it." 
 
 A few minutes later they stood at the iron gate of the man- 
 ager's residence, a massive, brown stone dwelling, set in among 
 ancient trees in an estate of several acres, and surrounded by- 
 shrubs and bushes. 
 
 "Fine place, eh?" remarked the priest. 
 
 "Beautiful," replied Carmen. "Does he know all about 
 those tenements down there?" 
 
 "Ah, that he does; and cares less. And he knows all about 
 the terrible hot air in his mills, and the flying lint that clogs 
 the lungs of the babies working there. He sees them leave the 
 place, dripping with perspiration, and go out into the zero tem- 
 perature half naked. And when they go off with pneumonia, 
 well he knows why; and cares less. He knows that the poor, 
 tired workers in that great prison lose their senses in the awful 
 noise and roar, and sometimes get bewildered and fall afoul 
 of belts and cogs, and lose their limbs or lives. He knows ; and 
 doesn't care. So does Mr. Ames. And he wouldn't put safety 
 devices over his machines, because he doesn't care. I've written 
 to him a dozen times about it. But — 
 
 "And then Pillette," he continued; "I've asked him to fur- 
 nish his hands with decent drinking water. They work ten 
 and twelve hours in that inferno, and when they want to drink, 
 why, all they have is a barrel of warm water, so covered with 
 lint that it has to be pushed aside in order to get at the water. 
 Why, Pillette don't even give 'em change rooms ! He won't give 
 'em decent toilet rooms ! Says Mr. Ames can't afford it. Seems 
 to me that when" a man can give a ball and send out invitations 
 on cards of solid gold, he can afford to give a thought to the 
 
 158 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 thousands who have toiled and suffered in order to enable him 
 to give such a ball, don't you?" 
 
 Carmen did. She had attended that reception. The memory 
 came back now in hot, searing thoughts. 
 
 "Oh, he catches 'em coming and going!" the priest went on. 
 "You see, he manipulates Congress so that a high tariff law is 
 passed, protecting him from imported goods. Then he runs up 
 the prices of his output. That hits his mill hands, for they 
 have to pay the higher prices that the tariff causes. Oh, no, 
 it doesn't result in increased wages to them. Ha! ha! Not a 
 bit! They're squeezed both ways. He is the only one who 
 profits by high tariff on cotton goods. See how it works?" 
 
 Yes, Carmen saw. She might not know that Ames periodi- 
 cally appeared before Congress and begged its protection — nay, 
 threatened, and then demanded. She might not know that 
 Senator Gossitch ate meekly from the great man's hand, and 
 speciously represented to his dignified colleagues that the 
 benefits of high protective duties were for "the people" of the 
 United States. She might not know how Hood, employed to 
 evade the laws enacted to hedge and restrain his master, bribed 
 and bought, schemed and contrived, lobbied, traded, and ma- 
 nipulated, that his owner might batten on his blood-stained 
 profits, while he kept his face turned away from the scenes of 
 carnage, and his ears stopped against the piteous cries of his 
 driven slaves. But she did know how needless it all was, and 
 how easy, oh! how pitiably easy, it would be to remedy every 
 such condition, would the master but yield but a modicum of 
 his colossal, mesmeric selfishness. She did not know, she 
 could not, that the master, Ames, made a yearly profit from his 
 mills of more than two hundred per cent. But she did know 
 that, were he less stupidly greedy, even to the extent of taking 
 but a hundred per cent profit, he would turn a flood of sun- 
 shine into hundreds of sick, despairing, dying souls. 
 
 "This is the place," she heard the priest say, his voice 
 seeming to come from a long distance. "This is the Mission." 
 
 She stopped and looked about her. They were in front of 
 an old, two-story building, decrepit and forbidding, but well 
 lighted. While she gazed, the priest opened the door and bade 
 her enter. 
 
 "This down here is the reading room," he explained. "The 
 door is never locked. Upstairs is my office, and sleeping rooms 
 for men. Also a stock of old clothes I keep on hand for 'era 
 when I send 'em out to look for work. I've clothed an average 
 of four men a day during the past year, and sent 'em out to 
 look for jobs. I board 'em, and keep 'em going until they land 
 something. Sometimes I have to lend 'em money. I just help 
 
 159 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 'em to help themselves. No, I never bother about a map's re- 
 ligion. Come up to my oflSce." 
 
 Carmen climbed the rough steps to the floor above and en- 
 tered the small but well-kept office of the priest. 
 
 "Now here," he said; with a touch of pride, "is my card- 
 index. I keep tab on all who come here. When they get 
 straightened up and go out to hunt work, I give 'em identifica- 
 tion cards. Just as soon as I can get funds I'm going to put a 
 billiard table back there and fit up a little chapel, so's the Catho- 
 lic men who drift in here can attend service. You know, a lot 
 of 'em don't have the nerve to go to a church. Too proud. But 
 they'd attend Mass here." 
 
 Carmen looked at the man in admiration. Then a thought 
 came to her. "We haven't either of us asked the other's name," 
 she said. 
 
 The priest's eyes twinkled. "I've been dying to know 
 yours," he replied. "I'm Father Magee, Daniel Magee. But 
 the boys generally call me Danny. What shall I call you? Oh, 
 give any name; it doesn't matter, just so's I'll know how to 
 address you." 
 
 "I am Carmen Ariza. And I am from South America," said 
 the girl simply. "Now sit down here. I want to talk to you. I 
 have a lot to ask." 
 
 » » « • * * . 
 
 An hour later the girl rose from her chair. "I shall have to 
 wait and visit the Hall another time," she said. "I must catch 
 the eight-thirty back to the city. But — " 
 
 "I'll never see you go down this tough street to the depot 
 alone!" averred the priest, reaching for his hat. 
 
 Carmen laughed. But she gratefully accepted the prof- 
 fered escort. Two of Father Magee's assistants had come in 
 meanwhile, and were caring for the few applicants below. 
 
 "You're right. Miss Carmen," the priest said, as they started 
 for the train. "Mr. Ames must be reached. Perhaps you can 
 do it. I can't. But I'll give you every assistance possible. It 
 eats my heart out to see the suffering of these poor people!" 
 
 At eleven o'clock that night Carmen entered the office of the 
 city editor of the Express. "Ned," she said, "I've been with 
 Dante — no, Danny — in Inferno. Now I'm going to Washington. 
 I want expense money — a good lot — so that I can leave to-mor- 
 row night." 
 
 Haynerd's eyes dilated as he stared at the girl. "Washing- 
 ton!" he ejaculated. "Well — ! But what did you find down in 
 Avon?" 
 
 "I'll write you a detailed report of my trip to-morrow. I'm 
 going home now," she replied. 
 
 160 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 12 
 
 IT is sometimes said of the man who toils at forge or loom 
 in this great commonwealth that he is fast forgetting that 
 
 Washington is something more significant to him than what 
 is embraced in the definition of the gazetteers. Not so, how- 
 ever, of that class of the genus homo individualized in J. Wilton 
 Ames. He leaned not upon such frail dependence as the Con- 
 gressional Record for tempered reports of what goes on behind 
 closed legislative doors; he went behind those doors himself. 
 He needed not to yield his meekly couched desires to the law- 
 builders whom his ballot helped select; he himself launched 
 those legislators, and gave them their steering charts. But, 
 since the interpretation of laws was to him vastly more im- 
 portant than their framing, he first applied himself to the 
 selection of judges, and especially those of the federal courts. 
 With these safely seated and instructed at home, he gave him- 
 self comfortably to the task of holding his legislators in Wash- 
 ington to the course he chose. 
 
 Carmen had not spent a day at the Capital before, the sig- 
 nificance of this fact to the common citizen swept over her like 
 a tidal wave. If the people, those upon whom the stability of 
 the nation rests, loolied as carefully after appointments and 
 elections as did Ames, would their present wrongs continue 
 long to endure? She thought not. And after she had spent 
 the day with the Washington correspondent of the Express, a 
 Mr. Sands, who, with his young wife, had just removed to the 
 Capital, she knew more with respect to the mesmerism of 
 human inertia and its baneful effects upon mankind than she 
 had known before. 
 
 And yet, after that first day of wandering through the hal- 
 lowed precincts of a nation's legislative halls, she sat down 
 upon a bench in the shadow of the Capitol's great dome and 
 asked herself the questions: "What am I here for, anyway? 
 What can /do? Why have I come?" She had acted upon — 
 impulse? No; rather, upon instinct. And instinct with her, 
 as we have said, was unrestrained dependence upon her own 
 thought, the thought which entered her mentality, only after 
 she had first prepared the way by the removal of every ob- 
 struction, including self. 
 
 At the breakfast table the second morning after her arrival 
 in the city, Mr. Sands handed her a copy of the Express. Among 
 the editorials was her full report upon conditions as she had 
 found them in Avon, published without her signature. Follow- 
 
 66 * 161 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ing it was the editor's comment, merciless in its exposition of 
 fact, and ruthless in its exposure of the cruel greed externalized 
 in the great cotton industry in that little town. 
 
 Carmen rose from the table indignant and protesting. Hitt 
 had said he would be wise in whatever use he made of her 
 findings. But, though quite devoid of malignity, this account 
 and its added c&mment were nothing less than a personal at- 
 tack upon the master spinner, Ames. And she had sent an- 
 other report from Washington last night, one comprising all 
 she had learned from Mr. Sands. What would Hitt do with 
 that? She must get in touch with him at once. So she set 
 out to find a telegraph office, that she might check the impul- 
 sive publisher who was openly hurling his challenge at the 
 giant Philistine. 
 
 When the message had gone, the girl dismissed the subject 
 from .her thought, and gave herself up completely to the charm 
 of the glorious morning and her beautiful environment. For 
 some time she wandered aimlessly about the city; then bent 
 her steps again toward the Capitol. 
 
 At the window of a florist she stopped and looked long and 
 lovingly at the gorgeous display within. In the midst of the 
 beautiful profusion a single flower held her attention. It was 
 a great, brilliant red rose, a kind that she had never seen be- 
 fore. She went in and asked for it. 
 
 "We call it the 'President' rose. Miss," said the salesman in 
 response to her query. "It is quite new." 
 
 "I want it," she said simply. 
 
 And when she went out with the splendid flower burning 
 on her bosom like living fire, she^ was glad that Hitt had not 
 been there to see her pay two dollars for it. 
 
 The great Capitol seemed to fascinate her, as she stood be- 
 fore it a few moments later. The spell of tradition enwrapped 
 her. The mighty sentiments and motives which had actuated 
 the framers of the Constitution seemed to loom before her like 
 monuments of eternal stone. Had statesmanship degenerated 
 from that day of pure patriotism into mere corruption? Mr. 
 Sands would have her so believe. 
 
 "The people!" he had exclaimed in scoffing tones. "Why, 
 my dear girl, the people of your great State are represented in 
 the national Senate by — ^whom? By nobody, I say. By the 
 flies on the panes; by the mice in the corners; by the god, 
 perhaps, to whom the chaplain offers his ineffectual prayers; 
 but not by men. No; one of your Senators represents a great 
 railroad; the other an express company! The people? Those 
 Senators know no such ridiculous creature as 'the people'!" 
 
 She turned from the Capitol, and for an hour or more 
 
 162 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 strolled in the brilliant sunligh^. "An economic disease," she 
 murmured at length. "That's what it is. And, like all dis- 
 ease, it is mental. It is a disease of the human conscience. It 
 comes from the fear of separation from good. It all reduces to 
 the belief of separation from God — the belief that upon men's 
 own human efforts depend all the happiness and satisfaction 
 they can have. Why, I have never known anything but happi- 
 ness and abundance! And yet, / have never made a single ef- 
 fort to acquire them!" For the girl saw not the past vicissi- 
 tudes of her life except as shadowy mists, which dimmed not 
 the sun of her joy. 
 
 "Take care!" cried a loud voice close to her. 
 
 There was a tramping of horses' feet. A great, dark body 
 swept past. It struck her, and brushed her to one side. She 
 strove to hold herself, but fell. 
 
 The man and his companion were off their horses instantly, 
 and assisted the girl to her feet. 
 
 "Are you hurt?" asked the one who had been riding ahead. 
 "I called to you, you but didn't seem to hear." 
 
 "Not a bit!" laughed the girl, recovering her breath, and 
 stooping to brush the dust from her dress. "I was dreaming, 
 as usual." 
 
 "Well, I'm glad to hear that! It was a close shave! I'm 
 mighty sorry! Are you sure you're all right? Perhaps you 
 had better come in with us." 
 
 The girl raised her head and looked into his face with a 
 bright smile. The man's anxious expression slowly changed 
 into one of wonder, and then of something quite different. "The 
 girl's long, thick hair had been loosened by the fall, and was 
 hanging about her shoulders. Framed in the deep brown pro- 
 fusion was the fairest face he had ever looked upon; the most 
 winning smile; the most loving, compassionate glance. 
 
 "You'll have to come in now, and let the maid help you," he 
 said firmly. "And I'll send you home in an auto. May I ask 
 where you live?" 
 
 "New York," replied Carmen, a little confused as she strug- 
 gled vainly with her hair. "Oh, I'm not going to fuss with it any 
 more!" she suddenly exclaimed. "Yes, I'll go with you, and 
 let the maid do it up. Isn't it long!" 
 
 She glanced about her, and then up the avenue toward 
 which the men had been riding. A flush suddenly spread over 
 her face, and she turned and looked searchingly at the man. 
 
 «'You — ^you — live — in — there?" she stammered, pointing to- 
 ward the distant house. "And you are — " 
 
 "Yes," he replied, coming to her assistance, but evidently 
 greatly enjoying her embarrassment, "I am the President." 
 
 163 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 Carmen gave a little gasp. "Oh!" 
 
 Then her hand stole mechanically to the rose flaming upon 
 her bosom. "I — I guess I know why I bought this now," she 
 said softly. Quickly unpinning it, she extended it to the man. 
 "I was bringing it to you, wasn't I?" she laughed. "It's a 
 'President' rose." 
 
 The picture was one that would have rejoiced an artist: 
 the simple girl, with her tumbled hair and wonderful face, 
 standing there in the glorious sunlight, holding out a single 
 rose to the chief executive of a great nation. 
 
 The President bowed low and took the proffered flower, "I 
 thank you," he said. "It is beautiful. But the one who gives 
 it is far more so." 
 
 Then he bade his companion take the two horses to the 
 stable, and motioned to Carmen to accompany him. 
 
 ■ "I was just returning from my morning ride," he began 
 again, "when you happened — " 
 
 "Things newer happen," interrupted the girl gently. 
 
 He looked at her with a little quizzical side glance. "Then 
 you didn't happen to be in the way?" he said, smiling. 
 
 "No," she returned gravely. "I was obeying the law of 
 cause and effect." 
 
 "And the cause?" he pursued, much interested. 
 
 "A desire to see you, I guess. Or, perhaps, the necessity of 
 seeing you. And because I wanted to see you in the interests of 
 good, why, evil seemed to try to run over me." 
 
 "Bdt why should you wish to see me?" he continued, greatly 
 wondering. 
 
 "Because you are the head of a wonderful nation. Your 
 influence is very great. And you are a good man." 
 
 He studied her for a moment. Then: 
 
 "You came down from New York to talk with me?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "I think I came all the way from South America to see 
 you," she said. 
 
 "South America!" 
 
 "Yes, Colombia." 
 
 "Colombia! There is a revolution in progress down there 
 now. Did you come to see me about that? I can do nothing — " 
 
 The girl shook her head. "No," she said, "it's to prevent a 
 revolution here iii your own country that I think I have come to 
 see you." 
 
 They had by now reached the door of the Executive Man- 
 sion. Entering, the President summoned a maid, and turned 
 the big-eyed girl over to her. "Bring her to my office," he 
 directed, "when she is ready." 
 
 164 
 
CARMEN ARI2A 
 
 A little later the nameless girl from Simitl again stood before 
 the President of the United States. 
 
 "I have an important conference at ten," he said, glancing 
 at a clock. "But we have a few minutes before that time. Will 
 you — may I ask you to tell me something about yourself?" he 
 ventured. "You are feeling all right? No bad effects from the 
 accident?" he added, looking apprehensively at her while he set 
 out a chair. 
 
 The girl drew the chair close to his desk and sat down. "I 
 know nothing about accidents," she said quietly. Then, turn- 
 ing quite from that topic, she drew the President quickly into 
 her thought and carried him off with her as on a magic carpet. 
 
 The man listened in rapt attention. From time to time he 
 turned and stared at his strange visitor. At other times he 
 made notes of points which impressed him. Once he inter- 
 rupted, when she made reference to her past life. "This priest, 
 Jose de Rincon, might he not have been imprisoned as a political 
 offender?" 
 
 "I do not know," the girl replied tenderly. "My foster- 
 father, Rosendo, did not mention hiin in the two letters which 
 I have received." 
 
 The President nodded; and the girl went rapidly on. Soon 
 she was deep in the problem presented by Avon. 
 
 But at the mention of that town, and of its dominating 
 genius, the President seemed to become nervous. At length he 
 raised a hand, as if to end the interview. 
 
 "I fear I can do nothing at present," he said with an air of 
 helplessness. "My influence is quite limited." 
 
 "But," she protested, "you have the public welfare at heart. 
 And can you not see that public welfare is the welfare of each 
 individual?" 
 
 "I know Mr. Ames well," the President replied, somewhat 
 irrelevantly. "He, like all men of great wealth, presents a seri- 
 ous problem, doubtless. But he himself, likewise, is confronted 
 by problems of very trying natures. We must give him time to 
 work them out." 
 
 The girl sighed. "It's like getting at the essence of Chris- 
 tianity," she said. "The world has had nearly two thousand 
 years in which to do that, but it hasn't made much of a start 
 as yet. How much time does Mr. Ames require? And how 
 many more lives must he sacrifice?" 
 
 "But," the President resumed reflectively, "after all, it is 
 the people who are wholly responsible for the conditions which 
 exist among them. They have the means of remedying every 
 economic situation, the ballot. It is really all in their hands, " 
 is it not? They elect their public officers, their judges, and 
 their lawmakers." 
 
 165 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Again the girl sighed. "You too," she said, "take refuge in 
 the cant of the age. Yes, the people do try to elect public 
 servants; but by some strange anomaly the servant becomes 
 master the moment he enters the door of ofBce. His thought 
 then centers upon himself. And then they, and you, sit help- 
 lessly back and cry. No use! And if the people rise, their 
 servants meet them with a hail of lead. It's really childishly 
 ridiculous, isn't it? when you stop to consider it seriously." 
 
 She leaned her elbows upon the desk, and sat with chin in 
 her hands, looking squarely into the eyes of the President. 
 
 "So you, the head of this great nation, confess to utter 
 helplessness," she slowly said. "But you don't have to." 
 
 A servant entered at that moment with a card. The Presi- 
 dent glanced at it, and bade him request the caller to wait a 
 few moments. Then, after some reflection: 
 
 "The people will always — " 
 
 The door through which the servant had passed was abrupt- 
 ly thrown open, and a harsh voice preceded the entrance of a 
 huge bulk. 
 
 "I am not accustomed to being told to wait, Mr. President," 
 said the ungracious voice. "My appointment was for ten 
 o'clock, and I am hpre to keep it." 
 
 Then the newcomer stopped abruptly, and stared in amaze- 
 ment at the young girl, sitting with her elbows propped upon 
 the desk, and her face close to that of the President. 
 
 The latter rose, flushed and angry. But Ames did not notice 
 him. His attention was centered upon the girl who sat looking 
 calmly up at him. A dark, menacing scowl drew his bushy 
 eyebrows together, and made the sinister look which mantled 
 his face one of ominous import to the person upon whom it 
 fell. 
 
 Carmen was the first to break the tense silence. With a 
 bright smile illuming her face she rose and held out a hand to 
 the giant before her. "Good morning, Mr. Ames," she said. 
 "We meet pretty often, don't we?" 
 
 Ames ignored both the greeting and the extended hand. 
 Turning upon the President, he said sharply: "So, the Ex- 
 press seeks aid in the White House, eh?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Ames," said Carmen quickly, answering for the 
 President. "It seeks to aid the White House." 
 
 Ames turned to the girl. "Might I ask," he said in a tone 
 of mordant sarcasm, "how you learned that I was to be here 
 this morning? I would like to employ your methods of espion- 
 age in my own business." 
 
 "I would give anything if you would employ my methods 
 in your business," returned the girl gently. 
 
 1«6 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The President looked in embarrassment from one to the 
 other. "I think, Miss Carmen," he said, "that we must con- 
 sider our interview ended. This next hour belongs by appoint- 
 ment to Mr. Ames." 
 
 A peculiar expression had come into Ames's features. His 
 thought had been working rapidly. Here was an opportunity 
 for a telling stroke. He would play it. His manner suddenly 
 became more gracious. 
 
 "Let her remain, Mr. President," he said in a tone pregnant 
 with meaning. "I am glad to have a representative of the New 
 York press with us to hear you express your attitude toward 
 the cotton schedule." 
 
 The President caught the insinuation. His hand was to be 
 forced! His indignation mounted, but he checked it. 
 
 "The schedule has been reported out of committee," he 
 replied briefly. "It is now before Congress." 
 
 "I am aware of that," said Ames. "And your influence 
 with Congress in regard to it?" 
 
 "I am studying the matter, Mr. Ames," returned the Presi- 
 dent slowly. 
 
 "Shall the Avon mills be closed pending a decision? Or, 
 on the assumption that Congress will uphold the altered sched- 
 ule, must the Spinners' Association begin immediate retrench- 
 ment? As president of that Association, I ask for instruc- 
 tions." 
 
 "My influence with Congress, as you well know, Mr. Ames, 
 is quite limited," replied the hectored executive. 
 
 "It is not a question of the amount of your influence with 
 that body, Mr. President," returned Ames coldly, "but of how 
 you will employ that which you have." 
 
 Silence lay upon them all for some moments. Then Ames 
 resumed : 
 
 "I would remind you," he remarked with cruel insinuation, 
 "that — or," glancing at the girl, "perhaps I should not make 
 this public." He paused and awaited the effect of his signifi- 
 cant words upon the President. Then, as the latter remained 
 silent, he went on evenly: 
 
 "Second-term prospects, you are aware, are often very great- 
 ly influenced by public facts regarding the first election. Of 
 course we are saying nothing that the press might use, but — 
 well, you must realize that there is some suspicion current as 
 to the exact manner in which your election was — " 
 
 "I think you wish to insinuate that my election was due to 
 the Catholic vote, which you controlled in New York, and to 
 your very generous campaign contributions, do you not? I 
 see no reason for withholding from the press your views on the 
 subject." 
 
 167 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "But, my friend, this is an age of investigation, and of 
 suspicion toward all public officials. And such rumors 
 wouldn't look. well on the front pages of the press throughout 
 the country. Of course, our young friend here isn't going to 
 mention them to her superiors; but, nevertheless, they ought to 
 be suppressed at once. Their effect upon your second-term 
 prospects would be simply annihilating. Now I am in a posi- 
 tion to greatly assist in the matter of — ^well, in fact,. I have 
 already once offered my aid to the Express. And I stand ready 
 now to join with it in giving the lie to those who are seeking 
 to embarrass the present administration. Miss Carmen is 
 with us — " 
 
 "Mr. Ames," the girl quietly interrupted, "I wish you were 
 with us." 
 
 "But, my dear girl, have I — " 
 
 "For then there would be no more suffering in Avon," she 
 added. 
 
 "Ha ! Then it was you who wrote that misleading stuff in 
 the Express, eh? I might have known it! May I ask," he 
 added with a contemptuous sneer, "by whose authority you 
 have visited the houses occupied by my tenants, without my 
 permission or knowledge? I take it you were down there, 
 although the cloudy weather must have quite dimmed your 
 perception." 
 
 "Yes," she answered in a low voice, "I have been there. 
 And it was very cloudy. Yes, I visited your charnel houses 
 and your cemeteries. I saw your victims. I held their trem- 
 bling hands, and stroked their hot brows. I fed them, and 
 gave them the promise that I would plead their cause with 
 you." 
 
 "Humph! But you first come here to — " 
 
 "It was with no thought of seeing you that I came to Wash- 
 ington, Mr. Ames. If I cross your path often, it must be for 
 a purpose not yet revealed to either of us. Perhaps it is to 
 warn you, to awaken you, if not too late, to a sense of your 
 desperate state." 
 
 "My desperate state!" 
 
 "Yes. You are drunk, you know, drunk with greed. And 
 such continuous drunkenness has made you sick unto death. 
 It is the same dread disease of the soul that the wicked Cortez 
 told the bewildered Mexicans he had, and that could be cured 
 only with gold. You — ^you don't see, Mr. Ames, that you are 
 mesmerized by the evil which is always using you." 
 
 She stood close to the huge man, and looked straight up 
 into his face. He remained for a moment motionless, yielding 
 again to that fascination which always held him when in her 
 
 168 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 presence, and of which he could give no account to himself. 
 That slight, girlish figure— how easily he could crush her! 
 
 "But you couldn't, you know," she said cryptically, as she 
 shook her head. 
 
 "Couldn't what?" he demanded. 
 
 "Crush me." 
 
 He recoiled a step, struck by the sudden revelation that the 
 girl had read his thought. 
 
 "You see, Mr. Ames," she continued, "what a craven error 
 is before truth. It makes a coward of you, doesn't it? Your 
 boasted power is only a mesmerism, which you throw like a 
 huge net over your victims. You and they can break it, if you 
 will." 
 
 "Miss Carmen!" exclaimed the President. "We really must 
 consider our interview ended. Let us make an appointment 
 for another day." 
 
 "I guess the appointment was made for to-day," the girl 
 said softly. "And by a higher power than any of us. Mr. 
 Ames is the type of man who is slowly turning our Republican 
 form of government into a despotism of wealth. He boasts 
 that his power is already greater than a czar's. You bow be- 
 fore it; and so the awful monster of privilege goes on un- 
 hampered, coiling its slimy tentacles about our national re- 
 sources, our public utilities, and natural wealth. I — I can't 
 see how you, the head of this great nation, can stand trembling 
 by and see him do it. It is to me incomprehensible." 
 
 The President flushed. He made as if to reply, but re- 
 strained himself. Carmen gave no indication of leaving. A 
 stern look then came into the President's face. He stood for a 
 few minutes in thought. Then he turned again to his desk 
 and sat down. 
 
 "Please be seated," he said, "both of you. I don't know 
 what quarrel there is between you two, and I am not interested 
 in it. But you, Miss Carmen, represent the press; Mr. Ames, 
 business. The things which have been voiced here this morn- 
 ing must remain with us alone. Now let us see if we can not 
 meet on common ground. Is the attitude of your newspaper. 
 Miss Carmen, one of hostility toward great wealth?" 
 
 "The Express raises its voice only against the folly and 
 wickedness of the human mind, not against personality," re- 
 plied the girl. 
 
 "But you are attacking Mr. Ames." 
 
 "No. We attack only the human thought which manifests 
 in him. We oppose the carnal thought which expresses itself 
 in the folly, the madness of strife for excessive wealth. It is 
 that strife that makes our hospitals and asylums a disgraceful 
 
 169 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 necessity. It makes the immigrant hordes of Europe flock here 
 because they are attracted by the horrible social system which 
 fosters the growth of great fortunes and makes their acquisi- 
 tion possible. Our alms-houses and prisons increase in num- 
 ber every year. It is because rich men misuse their wealth, 
 trample justice under foot, and prostitute a whole nation's 
 conscience." 
 
 "But the rich need not do that. They do not all—" 
 
 "It is a law of human thought," said Carmen in reply, "that 
 mankind in time become like that which has absorbed their 
 attention. Rich men obey this law with utmost precision. 
 They acquire the nature and character of their god, gold. 
 They rapidly grow to be like that which they blindly worship. 
 They harden like their money. They grow metallic, yellow, 
 calloused, unchanging, and soulless, like the coins they heap 
 up. There is the great danger to our country, Mr. President. 
 And it is against the human thought that produces such beings 
 — ^thought stamped with the dollar mark — ^that the Express 
 opposes itself." 
 
 She hesitated, and looked in the direction of Ames. Then 
 she added: 
 
 "Their features in time reveal to the world their metallic 
 thought. Their veins shrivel with the fiery lust of gold. Their 
 arteries harden. And then, at last, they crumble and sink into 
 the dust of which their god is made. And still their memories 
 continue to poison the very sources of our national existence. 
 You see," she concluded, "there is no fool so mired in his folly 
 as the man who gives his soul for great wealth." 
 
 "A very enjoyable little sermon, preached for my benefit. 
 Miss Carmen," interposed Ames, bowing to her. "And now if 
 you have finished excoriating my poor character," he con- 
 tinued dryly, "will you kindly state by whose authority you 
 publish to the world my affairs?" 
 
 "God's authority, Mr. Ames," returned the girl gently. 
 
 "Bah! The maudlin sentimentalism of such as you make 
 us all suffer!" he exclaimed with a gesture of disgust. "Hadn't 
 we better sing a hymn now? You're obsessed with your foolish 
 religious notions ! You're running amuck ! You'll be wiser in 
 a few years, I hope." 
 
 The girl reflected. "And may I ask, Mr. Ames, by what 
 right you own mines, and forests, and lands? Divine right, I 
 suppose." 
 
 "By the divine right of law, most assuredly," he retorted. 
 
 "And you make the law. Yes, divine right ! I have learned," 
 she continued, turning to the President,' "that a bare handful 
 of men own or control all the public utilities of this great 
 
 170 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 country. It doesn't seem possible! But," abruptly, "you be- 
 lieve in God, don't you?" 
 
 He nodded his head, although with some embarrassment. 
 His religion labored heavily under political bias. 
 
 She looked down at the floor, and 'sat silent for a while. 
 "Divine right," she began to murmur, "the fetish of the 
 creatures made rich by our man-made social system! "The 
 heavens are thine, the earth also is thine: as for the world 
 and the fullness thereof, thou hast founded them.' But, oh, 
 what must be the concept of God held by the rich, a God who 
 bestows these gifts upon a few, and with them the privilege 
 and divine consent to oppress and crush their fellow-men! 
 What a low .order of intelligence the rich possess ! An intelli- 
 gence wherein the sentiments of love and justice have melted 
 into money!" 
 
 "Mr. President," put in Ames at this juncture, "I think 
 we have spent quite enough time moralizing. Suppose you 
 now indicate your attitude on the cotton tariff. I'd like to 
 know what to expect." 
 
 . Carmen glanced quickly up. Her sparkling eyes looked 
 right into the President's. A smile wreathed her mouth. "I 
 admire the man," she said, "who dares to stand for the right 
 in the face of the great taboo ! There are few men nowadays 
 who stand for anything in particular." 
 
 "Look here!" exclaimed Ames, aware now that he had made 
 a mistake in permitting the girl to remain, "I wish my inter- 
 view to be with you alone, Mr. President." 
 
 Carmen rose. "I have embarrassed you both, haven't I?" 
 she said. "I will go. But first—" 
 
 She went to Ames and laid a hand on his arm. "I wish — I 
 wish I might awaken you," she said gently. "There is no vic- 
 tim at Avon in so desperate a state as you. More gold will not 
 cure you, any more than more liquor can cure a slave to strong 
 drink. You do not know that you are hourly practicing the 
 most despicable form of robbery, the wringing of profits which 
 you do not need out of the dire necessities of your fellow- 
 beings." 
 
 She stopped and smiled down into the face of the man. His 
 emotions were in a whirl. This girl always dissected his soul 
 with a smile on her face. 
 
 "I wish I might awaken you and your poor victims by show- 
 ing you and them that righteousness makes not for a home in 
 the skies, but for greater happiness and prosperity for every- 
 body right here in this world. Don't you really want the little 
 babies to have enough to eat down there at Avon? Do you 
 really wa;it the President to support you in the matter of the 
 
 171 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 cotton schedule, and so increase the misery: and sorrow at your 
 mills? You don't know, do you? that one's greatest happiness 
 is found only in that of others." She stood looking at him for 
 a few moments, then turned away. 
 
 The President rose and held out his hand \o her. She 
 almost laughed as she took it, and her eyes shone with the 
 light of her eager, unselfish desire. 
 
 "I— I guess I'm like Paul," she said, "consumed with zeal. 
 Anyway, you'll wear my rose, won't you?" 
 
 "Indeed I will!" he said heartily. 
 
 "And — you are not a bit afraid about a second term, are 
 you? As for party principle, why, you know, there is only one 
 principle, God. He is the Christ-principle, you know, and that 
 is way above party principle." 
 
 Under the spell of the girl's strange words every emotion 
 fled from the men but that of amazement. 
 
 "Righteousness, you know, is right-thinking. And that 
 touches just that about which men are most chary, their 
 pocketbooks." 
 
 She still held his hand. Then she arched her brows and 
 said naively : "You will find in yesterday's Express something 
 about Avon. You will not use your influence with Congress 
 until you have read it, will you?" And with that she left the 
 room. 
 
 A deep quiet fell upon the men, upon the great executive 
 and the great apostle of privilege. It seemed to the one that as 
 the door closed against that bright presence the spirit of night 
 descended; the other sat wrapped in the chaos of conflicting 
 emotions in which she always left him. 
 
 Suddenly the President roused up. "Who is she?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "She's the bastard daughter of a negro priest," replied Ames 
 in an ugly tone. 
 
 "What— she? That beautiful girl—! I don't believe it!" 
 
 "By God, she is!" cried the thoroughly angered Ames, bring- 
 ing a huge fist down hard upOn the desk. "And I've got the 
 proof! And, what's more, she's head over heds in love with 
 another renegade priest! ■ 
 
 "But that's neither here nor there," he continued savagely. 
 "I want to know what you are going to do for us?" 
 
 "I— I do not see, Mr. Ames, that I can do anything," replied 
 the President meditatively. 
 
 "Well — ^will you leave the details to us, and do as we tell 
 you then?" the financier pursued, taking another tack. 
 
 The President hesitated. Then he raised his head. "You 
 say you have proof?" he asked. 
 
 172 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Proof?" 
 
 "Yes — ^about the girl, you — " 
 
 "Damn the girl!" almost shouted Ames. "I've got proofs 
 that will ruin her, and you too — and, by God, I'll use 'em, if 
 you drive me to it ! You seem to forget that you were elected 
 to do our bidding, my friend!" 
 
 The President again lapsed into silence. For a long titne 
 he sat staring at the floor. Then he looked up. "It was won- 
 derful," he said, "wonderful the way she faced you, like David 
 before Goliath! There isn't a vestige of fear in her make-up. 
 I — ^we'U talk this matter over some other time, Mr. Ames," he 
 finished, rising abruptly. 
 
 "We'll talk it over now!" roared Ames, his self-control fly- 
 ing to the winds. "I can ruin you — make your administration 
 a laughing-stock — and plunge 'this country into financial panic I 
 Do you do as I say, or not?" 
 
 The President looked the angry man squarely in the eyes. 
 "I do not," he answered quietly. "Good morning." 
 
 CHAPTER 13 
 
 '^TT'S corking! Simply corking! "cried Haynerd, when he and 
 I Hitt had finished reading Carmen's report on her first few 
 days in Washington. ."Makes a fellow feel as if the best 
 thing Congress could do would be to adjourn for about fifty 
 years, eh? Such freak legislation! But she's a wonder, Hitt! 
 And she's booming the Express to the skies! Say, do you 
 know? she's in love, that girl is! That's why she is so — as the 
 Mexicans say — simpatico." 
 
 "Eh? In love!" exclaimed Hitt. "Well, not with you, I 
 hope!" 
 
 "No, unfortunately," replied Haynerd, assuming a dejected 
 mien, "but with that Rincon fellow— and he a priest! He's 
 got a son down in Cartagena somewhere, and he doesn't write 
 to her either. She's told Sid the whole story, and he's working 
 it up into a book during his odd moments. But, say," turning 
 the conversation again into its original channel, "how much of 
 her report are we going to run? You know, she tried to head us 
 off. Doesn't want to attack Ames. Ha! ha! As if she hadn't 
 already attacked him and strewn him all over the field!" 
 
 "We'll have to be careful in our allusions to the President," 
 replied Hitt. "I'll rewrite it myself, so as not to offend her 
 or him. And I — but, by George ! her reports are the truth, and 
 they rightfully belong to the people J The Express is the 
 
 173 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 avowed servant of the public ! What she finds out belongs to 
 all. I see no reason for concealing a thing. Did I tell you that 
 I had two inquiries from Italian and German papers, asking 
 permission to translate her reports into their own columns?" 
 
 "No? Jerusalem! We're becoming famous ! Did you wire 
 her to see Gossitch and Mall?" 
 
 "Yes, and Logue, as well as others. And I've put dozens of 
 senators and congressmen on our mailing list, including the 
 President himself. I've prepared letters for each one of them, 
 calling attention to the girl and her unique reports. She cer- 
 tainly writes in a fascinating vein, doesn't she? Meanwhile, 
 she's circulating around down there and advertising us in the 
 best possible manner. We're a success, old man!" he finished, 
 slapping the city editor roundly upon the back. 
 
 "Humph!" growled the latter. "Confine your enthusiasm 
 to words, my friend. Say, what did you do about that liquid 
 food advertisement?" 
 
 "Discovered that it was beer," replied Hitt, "and turned it 
 firmly down." 
 
 "Well, isn't beer a food? Not that we care to advertise it, 
 but—" 
 
 Hitt laughed. "When that fellow Glaus smoothly tried to 
 convince me that beer was a food, I sent a sample of his stuff 
 to the lies chemical laboratory for analysis. They reported 
 ninety-four per cent water, four per cent alcohol — defined now 
 as a poisonous drug — and about two per cent of possible food 
 substance. If the beer had been of the first grade there 
 wouldn't have been even the two per cent of solids. You know, 
 I couldn't help thinking of what Garmen said about the beer 
 that is advertised in brown bottles to preserve it from the 
 deleterious effects of light. Light, you know, starts decay in 
 beer. Well, light, according to Fuller, is 'God's eldest daughter.' 
 Emerson says it is the first of painters, and that there is noth- 
 ing so foul that intense light will not make it beautiful. Light 
 destroys fermentation. Thus the light of truth destroys the 
 fermentation which is supposed to constitute the human mind 
 and body. So light tries to purify beer by breaking it up. The 
 brewers have to put it into brown bottles to preserve its poison- 
 ous qualities. As Carmen says, beer simply can't stand the 
 light. No evil can stand the light. Remarkable, isn't it?" 
 
 "Humph.! It's astonishing that so many .so-called reputable 
 papers will take their advertising stuff. It's just as bad as 
 patent medicine ads." 
 
 "Yes. And I note that the American public still spend their 
 annual hundred million dollars for patent medicine dope. Most 
 of this is spent by women, who are largely caught by the mail- 
 
 174 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 order trade. I learned of one exposure recently made where 
 it was found that a widely advertised eye wash was composed 
 of borax and water. The cost was somewhere about five cents 
 a gallon, and it sold for a dollar an ounce. Nice little profit of 
 some two hundred and fifty thousand per cent, and all done 
 by the mesmerism of suggestive advertising. Shrewd business, 
 eh? Nice example in morality. Speaking of parasites on 
 society, Ames is not the only one!" 
 
 "And yet those fellows howl and threaten us with the boy- 
 cott because we won't advertise their lies and delusions. It's 
 as bad as ecclesiastical intolerance !" 
 
 Carmen spent a week in Washington. Then she returned 
 to New York and went directly to Avon. What she did there 
 can only be surmised by a study of her reports to Hitt, who 
 carefully edited them and ran them in the Express. Again, 
 after several days, she journeyed back to Washington. Her 
 enthusiasm was boundless; her energy exhaustless; her indus- 
 try ceaseless; and her persistency doggedly unshakable. In 
 Washington she made her way unhindered among those whom 
 she deemed essential to the work which she was doing. Doubt- 
 less her ability to do this and to gain an audience with whomso- 
 ever she might choose was in great part due to her beauty 
 and charming simplicity, her grace of manner, and her won- 
 derful and fearless innocence, combined with a mentality re- 
 markable for its matured powers. Hitt and Haynerd groaned 
 over her expenses, but promptly met them. 
 
 "She's worth it," growled the latter one day. "She's had 
 four different talks with the President ! How on earth do you 
 suppose she does it? And how did she get Mall and Logue to* 
 take her to dinner and to the theater again and again? And 
 what did she do to induce that doddering old blunderbuss, 
 Gossitch, to tell her what Ames was up to? I'll bet he made 
 love to her! How do you suppose she found out that" Ames 
 was hand in glove with the medical profession, and working 
 tooth and nail to help them secure a National Bureau of Health? 
 Say, do you know what that would do? It would foist allo- 
 pathy upon every chick and child of us ! Make medication, 
 drugging, compulsory ! Good heavens ! Have we come to that 
 in this supposedly free country? By the way, Hitt, Doctor 
 Morton has been let out of the University. Fired! He says 
 Ames did it because of his association with us. What do you 
 think of that?" 
 
 "I think, my friend," replied Hitt, "that it is a very serious 
 matter, and one that impinges heavily upon the rights of every 
 one of us, when a roaring lion like Ames is permitted to run 
 loose through our streets. Can nothing stop him!" 
 
 175 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "I've centered my hopes in Carmen," sighed Haynerd. 
 "She's my one last bet. If she can't stop him, then God himself 
 can't!" 
 
 Hitt turned and went into his office. A few moments later 
 he came out again and handed an opened letter to Haynerd. 
 "Some notes she's sent from Washington, Mentions the Na- 
 tional Bureau of Health project. It hasn't escaped her, you 
 see. Say, will you tell me where she picks up her informa- 
 tion?" 
 
 "The Lord gives it to her, I guess," said Haynerd, glancing 
 over the letter. "What's this? 
 
 " 'Reverend Borwell and Doctor Siler are down here lobbying for 
 the National Bureau of Health bill. Also, Senator Gossltch dropped a 
 remark to me yesterday which makes me' believe that he and other 
 Senators have been approached by Tetham with reference to sending an 
 American ambassador to the Vatican. Mr. Ames favors this.' " 
 
 Haynerd handed the letter back to Hitt and plunged into 
 the papers on his desk. "Don't say another word to me!" he 
 exclaimed. "This country's goin^ stark, staring mad! We're 
 crazy, every mother's son of us!" 
 
 "It's the human mind that is crazy, Ned, because it is wholly 
 without any basis of principle," returned Hitt with a sigh. 
 ****** 
 
 "Doctor Siler! I beg your pardon!" 
 
 "Eh? Why, Miss Carmen!" exclaimed that worthy person, 
 looking up from the gutter, whither he had hastened after his 
 silk hat which had been knocked off by the encounter with the 
 young girl who had rounded the corner of Ninth street into 
 Pennsylvania avenue and plunged full into him. 
 
 "Oh, I'm so sorry, Doctor! I was coming from the Smith- 
 sonian Institution, and I guess — " 
 
 "Don't mention it. Miss Carmen. It's a privilege to have my 
 hat knocked off by such a radiant creature as you." 
 
 "But it was so stupid of me ! Dreaming again ! And I want 
 to offer my — " 
 
 "Look here. Miss Carmen, just offer yourself as my guest 
 at luncheon, will you? That will not only make amends, but 
 place me hopelessly in your debt." 
 
 "Indeed I will!" exclaimed the girl heartily. "I was on my 
 way to a restaurant." 
 
 "Then come with me. I've got a little place around the 
 corner here that would have made Epicurus sit up nights in- 
 diting odes to it." 
 
 The girl laughed merrily, and slipped her arm through his. 
 A few minutes later they were seated at a little table in a 
 secluded corner of the doctor's favorite chophouse. 
 
 176 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ■ "By the way, I met a friend of yours a few minutes ago," 
 announced the doctor, after they had given their orders. "He 
 was coming out of the White .House, and — were you ever in a 
 miniature cyclone? Well, that was Ames! He blew me right 
 off the sidewalk! So angry, he didn't see me. That's twice 
 to-day I've been sent to the gutter!" He laughed heartily over 
 his experiences, then added significantly: "You and he are 
 both mental cyclones, but producing diametrically opposite 
 effects." 
 
 Carmen remained seriously thoughtful. The doctor went 
 on chatting volubly. "Ames and the President don't seem to 
 be pulling together as well as usual. The President has come 
 out squarely against him now in the matter of the cotton 
 schedule. Ames declares that the result will be a general finan- 
 cial panic this fall. By the way, Mr. Sands, the Express cor- 
 respondent, seems to be getting mighty close to administration 
 affairs these days. Where did he get that data regarding a 
 prospective National Bureau of Health, do you suppose?" 
 
 "I gave it to him," was the simple reply. 
 
 The doctor dropped his fork, and stared at the girl. "You!" 
 he exclaimed. "Well — of course you naturally would be op- 
 posed to it. But — " 
 
 "Tell me," she interrupted, "tell me candidly just what you 
 doctors are striving for, anyway. For universal health? Are 
 your activities all quite utilitarian, or — is it money and 
 monopoly that you are after? It makes a lot of difference, you 
 know, in one's attitude toward you. If you really seek the 
 betterment of health, then you are only honestly mistaken in 
 your zeal. But if you are doing this to make money — and I 
 think you are — then you are a lot of rascals, deserving defeat." 
 
 "Miss Carmen, do you impugn my motives?" He laughed 
 lightly at the thought. 
 
 "N — ^well — " She hesitated. He began to color slightly 
 under her keen scrutiny. "Well," she finally continued, "let's 
 see. If you doctors have made the curative arts effective, and 
 if you really do heal disease, then I must support you, of course. 
 But, while there is nothing quite so important to the average 
 mortal as his health, yet I know that there is hardly anything 
 that has been dealt with in such a bungling way. The art of 
 healing as employed by our various schools of medicine to-day 
 is the result of ages and ages of experimentation and bitter ex- 
 perience, isn't it? And its cost in human lives is simply in- 
 calculable. No science is so speculative, none so hypothetical, 
 as the so-called science of medicine." 
 
 "But we have had to learn," protested the doctor. 
 
 "Do you realize, Doctor," she resumed, "that the teaching 
 
 67 .177 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 and preaching of disease for money is one of tlie greatest 
 curses resting upon the world to-day? I never saw a doctor 
 until I was on the boat coming to New York. And then I 
 thought he was one of the greatest curiosities I had ever seen. 
 I followed him about and listened to him talk to the passengers. 
 And I learned that, like most of our young men, he had entered 
 the practice of medicine under the pressure of dollars rather 
 than altruism. Money is still the determining factor in the 
 choice of a profession by our young men. And success and 
 fortune in the medical profession^ more than in any other, 
 depend upon the credulity of the ignorant and helpless human 
 mind." 
 
 "Do you deny that great progress has been made in the 
 curative arts?" he demanded. "See what we have done with 
 diphtheria, with typhoid, with smallpox, and malaria!" 
 
 "Surely, Doctor, you can not believe that the mere tem- 
 porary removing of a disease is real healing ! You render one 
 lot of microbes innocuous^ after thousands of years of experi- 
 mentation, and leave mankind subject to the rest. Then you 
 render another set harmless. Do you expect to go on that way, 
 making set after set of microbes harmless to the human body, 
 and thus in time, after millions of years, eradicate disease en- 
 tirely? Do you think that people will then cease to die? All 
 the time you are working only in matter and through material 
 modes. Do you expect thereby to render the human sense of 
 life immortal? I think a sad disappointment awaits you. 
 Your patients get well, only to fall sick again. And death to 
 you is still as inevitable as ever, despite your boasted successes, 
 is it not so?" 
 
 He broke into a bantering laugh, but did not reply. 
 
 "Doctor, the human mind is self-inoculated. It suffers 
 from auto-infection. It makes its own disease microbes. It 
 will keep on making them, until it is educated out of itself, 
 and taught to do better. Then it will give place to the real 
 reflection of divine mind; and human beings will be no more. 
 Why don't you realize this, you doctors, and get started on the 
 right track? Your real work is in the mental realm. There 
 you will find both cause and cure." 
 
 "Well, I for one have little respect for faith cure — " 
 
 "Nor I," she interposed. "Dependence upon material drugs. 
 Doctor, is reliance upon the phenomena of the human mind. 
 Faith cure is dependence upon the human mind itself, upon 
 the noumenon, instead of the phenomenon. Do you see the 
 difference? Hypnotism is mental suggestion, the suggestions 
 being human and material, not divine truth. The drugging 
 system is an outgrowth of the belief of life in matter. Faith 
 
 178 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 cure is the belief of life and power inherent in the human mind. 
 One is no higher than the other. The origin of healing is 
 shrouded in mythology, and every step of its so-called progress 
 has been marked by superstition, dense ignorance, and fear. 
 The first doctor that history records was the Shaman, or medi- 
 cine-man, whose remedies reflected his mental status, and later 
 found apt illustration in the brew concocted by Macbeth's 
 witches. And think you he has disappeared? Unbelievable as 
 it may seem, it was only a short time ago that a case was re- 
 ported from New York where the skin of a freshly killed black 
 cat was applied as a remedy for an ailment that had refused 
 to yield to the prescribed drugging? And only a few years ago 
 some one applied to the Liverpool museum for permission to 
 touch a sick child's head with one of the prehistoric stone 
 axes there exhibited." 
 
 "That was mere superstition," retorted the doctor. 
 
 "True," said Carmen. "But materia medica is superstition 
 incarnate. And because of the superstition that life and virtue 
 and power are resident in matter, mankind have swallowed 
 nearly everything known to material sense, in the hope that 
 it would cure them of their own auto^infection. You remember 
 what awful recipes Luther gave for disease, and his exclama- 
 tion of gratitude: 'How great is the mercy of God who has 
 put such healing virtue in all manner of muck!' " 
 
 "Miss Carmen," resumed the doctor, "we physicians are 
 workers, not theorists. We handle conditions as we find them, 
 not as they ought to be." 
 
 "Oh, no, you don't!" laughed the girl. "You handle con- 
 ditions as the human, mortal mind believes them to be, that's 
 all. You accept its ugly pictures as real, and then you try 
 desperately through legislation to make us all accept them. 
 Yet you would bitterly resent it if some religious body should 
 try to legislate its beliefs upon you. 
 
 "Now listen, you doctors are rank materialists. Perhaps 
 it is because, as Hawthorne puts it, in your researches into 
 the human frame your higher and more subtle faculties are 
 materialized, and you lose the spiritual view of existence. 
 Your only remedy for diseased matter is more matter. And 
 these material remedies? Why, ignorance and superstition 
 have given rise to by far the larger number of remedies in use 
 by you to-day! And all of your attempts to rationalize medi- 
 cine and place it upon a systematic basis have signally failed, 
 because the only curative property a drug has is the credulity 
 •of -the person who swallows it. And that is a factor which 
 varies with the individual." 
 
 "The most advanced physicians give little medicine nowa- 
 days. Miss Carmen." 
 
 179 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "They are beginning to get away from it, little by littk," 
 she replied. "In recent years it has begun to dawn upon doc- 
 tors and patients alike that the sick who recover do so, not 
 because of the drugs which they have taken, but in spite of 
 them! One of the most prominent of our contemporary physi- 
 cians who are getting away from the use of drugs has said that 
 eighty-five per cent of all illnesses get well of their own accord, 
 no matter what may or may not be done for them. In a very 
 remarkable article from this same doctor's pen, in. which he 
 speaks of the huge undertaking which physicians must assume 
 in order to clear away the materia medica rubbish of the ages; 
 he states that the greatest struggle which the coming doctor 
 has on his hands is with drugs, and the deadly grip which they 
 have on the confidence and affections both of the profession 
 and of the public. Among his illuminatinig remarks about the 
 drug system, I found two drastic statements* which should 
 serve to lift the veil from the eyes of the chronic drug taker. 
 These are, first, 'Take away opium and alcohol, and the back- 
 bone of the patent medicine business would be broken inside of 
 forty-eight hours,' and, second, 'No drug, save quinine and 
 mercury in special cases, will cure a disease.' In words which 
 he quotes from another prominent physician, 'He is the best 
 doctor who knows the worthlessness of most drugs.' 
 
 "The hundreds of drugs listed in books on materia medica 
 I find are gradually being reduced in number to a possible 
 forty or fifty, and one doctor makes the radical statement that 
 they can be cut down to the 'six or seven real drugs.' Still 
 further light has been thrown upon the debasing nature of the 
 drugging system by a member of the Philadelphia Drug Ex- 
 change, in a recent hearing before the House Committee on 
 municipal affairs right here. He is reported as saying that it 
 makes little difference what a manufacturer puts into a patent 
 medicine, for, after all, the effect of the medicine depends upon 
 the faith of the user. The sick man who turns to patent medi- 
 cines for relief becomes the victim of 'bottled faith.' If his 
 faith is sufficiently great, a cure may be effected — and the 
 treatment has been wholly mental! The question of ethics does 
 not concern either the patent medicine manufacturer or the 
 druggist, for they argue that if the sick man's faith has been 
 aroused to the point of producing a cure, the formula of the 
 medicine itself is of no consequence, and, therefore, if a solu- 
 tion of sugar and water sold as a cure for colds can stimulate 
 the sufferer's faith to the point of meeting his need, the busi- 
 ness is quite legitimate. 'A bunch of bottles and sentiment,' 
 adds this member of the Drug Exchange, 'are the real essentials 
 for working healing miracles.' " 
 
 180 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Say!" exclaimed the doctor, again sitting back and regard- 
 ing her with amazement. "You have a marvelous memory for 
 data!" 
 
 "But, Doctor, I am intensely interested in my fellow-men. 
 I want to help them, and show them how to learn to live." 
 
 "So am I," he returned. "And I am doing all I can, the very 
 best I know how to do." 
 
 "I guess you mean you are doing what you are prompted to 
 do by every vagrant impulse that happens to stray into your 
 mentality, aren't you?" she said archly. "You haven't really 
 seriously thought out your way, else you would not be here 
 now urging Congress to spread a blanket of ignorance over the 
 human mind. If you will reflect seriously, if you will lay 
 aside monetary considerations, and a little of the hoary preju- 
 dice of the ages, and: will carefully investigate our present 
 medical systems, you will find a large nuitiber of schools of 
 medicine, bitterly antagonistic to one another, and each ac- 
 cusing the other of inferiority as an exact science, and as 
 grossly ignorant and reprehensibly careless of life. But which 
 of these warring schools can show the greatest number of 
 cures is a bit of data that has never been ascertained. A recent 
 writer says: 'As important as we all realize health to be, the 
 public is receiving treatment that is anything but scientific, 
 and the amount of unnecessary suffering that is going on in 
 the world is certainly enough to make a rock shed tears.' He 
 further says that, 'at least seventy-five per cent of the people 
 we meet who are apparently well, are suffering from some 
 chronic ailment that regular medical systems can not cure,' 
 and that many of these would try further experimentation were 
 it not for the criticism that is going on in the medical world 
 regarding various curative systems. The only hope under the 
 drugging system is that the patient's life and purse may hold 
 out under the strain of trying everything until he can light 
 upon the fight thing before he reaches the end of the list." 
 
 "And do you include surgery in your general criticism?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Surgery is no less an outgrowth of the belief of sentient 
 matter than is the drugging system," she replied. "It is ad- 
 mittedly necessary in the present stage of the world's thought; 
 but it is likewise admitted to be 'the very uncertain art of 
 performing operations,' at least ninety per cent of which are 
 wholly unnecessary. 
 
 "You see," she went on, "the effect upon the moral nature 
 of the sick man is never considered as rightfully having any 
 influence upon the choice of the system to be employed. If 
 Beelzebub can cast out demons, why not employ him? For, 
 
 181 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 after all, the end to be attained is the ejection of the demon. 
 And if God had not intended minerals and plants to be used as 
 both food and medicine, why did He make them? Besides, 
 man must earn his bread in some way under our present crude 
 and inhuman social system, and if the demand for drugs exists 
 we may be very sure it will be supplied by others, if not by 
 ourselves. Again, the influence of commercialism as a deter- 
 mining factor in the choice of a profession, is an influence 
 that works to keep many in the practice of a profession that 
 they know to be both unscientific and harmful. The result is 
 an inevitable lowering of ideals to the lust of material accumu- 
 lation." 
 
 "Well!" he exclaimed. "You certainly are hard on us poor 
 doctors ! And we have done so much for you, too, despite your 
 accusations. Think of the babies that are now saved from 
 diphtheria alone!" 
 
 "And think of the children who are the victims of the 
 medical mania!" she returned. "Think how they are brought 
 up under the tyranny of fear! Fear of this and of that; fear 
 that if they scratch a finger blood poisoning will deprive them 
 of life; fear that eating a bit of this will cause death; or sitting 
 in a breeze will result in wasting sickness! Isn't it criminal? 
 As for diphtheria antitoxin, it is in the same class as the white 
 of an egg. It contains no chemicals. It is the result of human 
 belief, the belief that a horse that has recovered from diph- 
 theria can never again be poisoned by the microbe of that 
 disease. The microbe. Doctor, is the externalization in the 
 human mentality of the mortal beliefs of fear, of life and power 
 in matter, and of disease and death. The microbe will be sub- 
 ject, therefore, to the human mind's changing thought regard- 
 ing it, always." 
 
 "Well then," said the doctor, "if people are spiritual, and 
 if they really are a consciousness, as you say, why do we seem 
 to be carrying about a body with us all the time — a body from 
 which we are utterly unable to get away?" 
 
 "It is because the mortal mind and body are one. Doctor. 
 The body is a lower stratum of the human mind. Hence, the 
 so-called mind is never distinct from its body to the extent of 
 complete separation, but always has its substratum with it. 
 And, Doctor, the mind can not hold a single thought without 
 that thought tending to become externalized — as Professor 
 James tells us — and the externalization generally has to do 
 with the body, for the mind has come to center all its hopes 
 of happiness and pleasure in the body, and to base its sense of 
 life upon it. The body, being a mental concept formed of false 
 thought, passes away, from sheer lack of a definite principle 
 
 182 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 upon which to rest. Therefore the sense of life embodied in il 
 passes away with it. You know, the ancients had some idea 
 of the cause of disease when they attributed it to demons, for 
 demons at least are mental influences. But then, after that, 
 men began to believe that disease was sent by 'God, either to 
 punish them for their evil deeds, or to discipline and train them 
 for paradise. Funny, isn't it? Think of regarding pain and 
 suffering as divine agents! I don't wonder people die, do you? 
 Humboldt, you know, said: 'The time will come when it will 
 be considered a disgrace for a man to be sick, when the world 
 will look upon it as a misdemeanor, the result of some vicious 
 thinking.' Many people seem to think that thought affects 
 only the brain; but the fact is that we think all over!" 
 
 "But look here," put in the doctor. "Here's a question I 
 intended to ask Hitt the other night. He said the five physical 
 senses did not testify truly. Well now, if, as you say, the eyes 
 do not testify to disease, then they can't testify to cures either, 
 eh?" He sat back with an air of triumph. 
 
 "Quite correct," replied Carmen. "The physical senses 
 testify only to belief. In the case of sickness, they testify to 
 false belief. In the case of a cure, they testify to a changed 
 belief, to a belief of recovered health, that is all. It is all on 
 the basis of human belief, you see." 
 
 "Eh? But— nerves feel—" 
 
 "Nerves, Doctor, like all matter, are externalizations ot hu- 
 man thought. Can the externalization of thought talk back to 
 thought? No. You are still on the basis of mere human belief." 
 
 At that moment the doctor leaned over and tapped upon 
 the window to attract the attention of some one in the street. 
 Carmen looked out and caught sight of a tall, angular man 
 dressed in clerical garb. The man bowed pleasantly to the 
 doctor, and cast an inquiring glance at the girl, then passed on. 
 
 "A priest?" inquired Carmen. 
 
 "Yes, Tetham," said the doctor. 
 
 "Oh, is that the man who maintains the lobby here at the 
 Capital for his Church? I've heard about him. He — well, it is 
 his business to see that members of his Church are promoted 
 to political office, isn't it? He trades votes of whole districts 
 to various congressmen in return for offices for strong church 
 members. He also got the parochial schools of New York ex- 
 empt from compulsory vaccination. The Express — " 
 
 "Eh? The Express has heard from him?" inquired the 
 
 doctor. , 
 
 "Yes. We opposed the candidate Mr. Ames was supportmg 
 for Congress. We also supported Mr. Wales in his work on 
 the cotton schedule. And so we heard from Father Tetham. 
 
 183 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 He is supporting the National Bureau of Health bill. He is 
 working for the Laetare medal. He — " 
 
 "Say, Miss Carmen, -will you tell me where you pick up 
 your news? Really, you astonish me! Do you know some- 
 thing about everybody here in Washington?" 
 
 She laughed. "I have learned much here," she said, "about 
 popular government as exemplHied by these United States. 
 The knowledge is a little saddening, But it is especially sad- 
 dening to see our constitutional liberties threatened by this 
 Bureau of Health bill, and by the Government's constant truck- 
 ling to the Church of Rome. Doctor, can it be that you want 
 to commit this nation to the business of practicing medicine, 
 and to its practice according to the allopathic, or 'regular' 
 school? The! American Medical Association, with its reaction- 
 ary policies and repressive tendencies, is making strenuous 
 endeavors to influence Congress to erlacl certain measures 
 which would result in the creation of such a Department of 
 Health, the effect of which would be to monopolize the art of 
 healing and to create a 'healing trust.' If this calamity should 
 be permitted to come upon the American people, it would fall 
 as a curtain of ignorance and superstition over our fair land, 
 and shut out the light of the dawning Sun of Truth. It would 
 mean a reversion to the blight and mold of the Middle Ages, 
 in many respects a return in a degree to the ignorance and 
 tyranny that stood for so many centuries like an impassable 
 rock in the pathway of human progress. The attempt to foist 
 upon a progressive people a system of medicine and healing 
 which is wholly unscientific and uncertain in its' effects, but 
 which is admittedly known to be responsible for the death of 
 millions and for untold suffering and misery, and then to say, 
 'Thou shalt be cured thereby, or not be cured at all,' is an insult 
 to the intelligence of the Fathers of our liberties, and a crime 
 upon a people striving for the light. It smacks of the Holy 
 Inquisition: Yop accept our creed, or you shall go to hell — 
 after we have broken you on the rack! Why, the thought of 
 subjecting this people to years of further dosing and experi- 
 mentation along the materialistic lines of the 'regular' school, 
 of curtailing their liberties, and forcing their necks under the 
 yoke of iiledical tyranny, should come to them with the in- 
 sistence of a clarion call, and startle them into such action that 
 the subtle evil which lurks behind this proposed legislative 
 action would be drkgged out into the light and exterminated! 
 To permit commercialisin and greed, the lust of mammon, and 
 the pride of the flesh that expresses itself in the demand, 'Who 
 shall be greatest?' to dictate the course of conduct that shall 
 shape the destinies of a great people, is to admit the failure of 
 
 184 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 free government, and to revert to a condition of mind that we 
 had thought long since outgrown. To yield our dear-bought 
 liberties to Italian ecclesiastics, on the other hand — well. Doc- 
 tor, it is just unthinkable!" 
 
 "H'm! Well, at least you are delightfully frank with me. 
 Yet you have the effect of making me feel as if — as if I were 
 in some way behind a veil. That—" 
 
 "Well, the human mind is very decidedly behind a veil. — 
 indeed, behind many of them. And how can it see God through 
 them? Mankind just grope about all their lives back of these 
 veils, not knowing that God is right before them all the time. 
 God has got to be everything, or else He will be nothing. With 
 or without drugs, it is God 'who healeth all thy diseases.' The 
 difficulty with physicians is that they are densely ignorant of 
 what healing means, and so they always start with a dreadful 
 handicap. They believe that there is something real to be 
 overcome — and of course fail to permanently overcome it. 
 Many of them are not only pitiably ignorant, but are in the 
 profession simply to make money out of the fears and credulity 
 of the people. Doctor, the physician of to-day is in no way 
 qualified to handle the question of public health^especially 
 those doctors who say : 'If you won't take our medicines we'll 
 get a law passed "that will make you take them.' To place the 
 health of the people in their hands would be a terrible mistake. 
 The agitation for a federal Department of Health is based upon 
 motives of ignorance and intentional wrong. If the people 
 generally knew this, they would rise in a body against it. Make 
 what laws you wish for yourself. Doctor. The human mind is 
 constantly occupied in the making of ridiculous laws and limi- 
 tations. But do not attempt to foist your laws upon the people. 
 Tell me, why all this agitation about teaching sex-hygiene in 
 the public schools? Why not, for a change, teach Christianity? 
 What would be the result? But even the Bible has been put 
 out of the schools. And by whom? By your Church, that its 
 interpretation may continue to be falsely made by those utterly 
 and woefully ignorant of its true meaning!" 
 
 For some moments they continued their meal in silence. 
 Then the girl took up the conversation again. "Doctor," she 
 said, "will you come out from aimong them and be separate?" 
 
 He looked at her quizzically. "Oppose Ames?" he finally 
 said. 
 
 "Ah, that is the rub, then! Yes, oppose ignorance and 
 falsity, even though incarnate in Mr. Ames," she replied. 
 
 "He would ruin me!" exclaimed the doctor. "He ruins 
 everybody who stands in his way! The cotton schedule has 
 gone against him, and the whole country will have to suffer 
 for it!" 
 
 185 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "But how can he make the country suffer because he has 
 heen blocked in his colossal selfishness?" she asked'. 
 
 "That I can not answer," said the doctor. "But I do know 
 that he has intimated that there will be no cotton crop in this 
 country next year." 
 
 "No cotton crop! Why, how can he prevent that?" 
 
 The doctor shook his head. "Mr. Ames stands as the claim 
 of omnipotent evil," was his laconic reply. 
 
 And when the meal was ended, the girl went her way, 
 pondering deeply; "No cotton crop! What— what did he 
 mean?" But that was something too dark to be reported to the 
 Express. 
 
 ♦ » * ♦ . » . ♦ 
 
 Three weeks from the day he had his brush with Carmen 
 in the presence of the President, Ames, the great corruptionist, 
 the master manipulator, again returned from a visit to Wash- 
 ington, and in a dangerous frame of mind. What might have 
 been his mental state had he known that the train which drew 
 his private car also brought Carmen back to New York, can 
 only be conjectured. It was fortunate, no doubt, that both 
 were kept in ignorance of that fact, and that, while the great 
 externalization of the human mind's "claim" of business sulked 
 alone in his luxurious apartments, the little follower after right- 
 eousness sat in one of the stuffy day coaches up ahead, holding 
 tired, fretful babies, amusing restless children, and soothing 
 away the long hours to weary, care-worn mothers. 
 
 When the financier's car drew into the station his valets 
 breathed great sighs of relief, and his French chef and negro 
 porter mopped the perspiration from their troubled brows, 
 while silently offering peans of gratitude for safe delivery. 
 When the surly giant descended the car steps his waiting foot- 
 man drew back in alarm, as he caught his master's black looks. 
 When he threw himself into the limousine, his chauffeur drew 
 a low whistle and sent a timidly significant glance in the direc- 
 tion of the lackey. And when at last he flung open the doors 
 of his private office and loudly summoned Hood, that capable 
 and generally fearless individual quaked with dire foreboding. 
 
 "The Express — I want a libel suit brought against it at 
 once! Draw it for half a million! File it in Judge Penhy's 
 court!" 
 
 "Yes, sir," responded the lawyer meekly. "The grounds?" 
 
 "Damn the grouiids!" shouted Ames. Then, in a voice 
 trembling with anger: "Have you read the last week's issues? 
 Then find your grounds in them! Make that girl a defendant 
 too!" 
 
 "She has no financial interest in the paper, sir. And, as for 
 
 186 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 the reports which they have published — I hardly think we can 
 establish a case from them—" 
 
 "What? With Judge Penny sitting? If you and he can't 
 make out a case against them, then I'll get a judge and a 
 lawyer who can! I want that bill filed to-morrow!" bringing 
 his fist down upon the desk. 
 
 "Very well, sir," assented Hood, stepping back. 
 
 "Another thing," continued Ames, "see Judge Hanson and 
 have the calling of the Ketchim case held in abeyance until I am 
 ready for it. I've got a scheme to involve that negro wench in 
 the trial, and drag her through the gutters! So, she's still in 
 love with Rinc6n, eh? Well, we'll put a crimp in that little 
 affair, I guess! Has Willett heard from Wenceslas?" 
 
 "Not yet, sir." 
 
 "I'll lift the scalp from that blackguard Colombian prelate 
 if he tries to trick me! Has Willett found Lafelle's where- 
 abouts?" 
 
 "No, sir. But the detectives report that he has been in Spain 
 recently." 
 
 "Spain! What's he — ^up to there?" he exclaimed in a voice 
 that began high and ended in a whisper. 
 
 He lapsed into a reflective mood, and for some moments 
 his thoughts seemed to wander far. Then he pulled himself 
 together and roused out of his meditations. 
 
 "You told Jayne that I would back the Budget to any eitent, 
 provided it would publish the stuff I sent it?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. He was very glad to accept your offer." 
 
 "Very well. You and Willett set about at once getting up 
 daily articles attacking the Express. I want you to dig up 
 every move ever made by Hitt, Haynerd, that girl, Waite, Mor- 
 ton, and the whole miserable, sneaking outfit! Rake up every 
 scandal, every fact, or rumor, that is in any way associated 
 with any of them. I want them literally cannonaded by the 
 Budget! Hitt's a renegade preacher! Haynerd was a bum 
 before he got the Social Era! Waite is ah unfrocked priest! 
 Miss Wall's father was a distiller! That girl — that girl is a— 
 Did you know that she used to be in a brothel down in the 
 red-light district? Well, she did! Great record the publishers 
 of the Express have, eh? Now, by God ! I want you and Jayne 
 to bury that whole outfit under a mountain of mud ! I'm 
 ready to spend ten millions to do it! Kill 'em! Kill 'em all!" 
 
 "I think we can do it, Mr. Ames," returned the lawyer con- 
 fidently. 
 
 "You've got to! Now, another matter: I'm out to get the 
 President's scalp! He's got to go down! Begin with those 
 New York papers which we can influence. I'll get Fallom and 
 
 187 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Adams over here for a conference.- Meanwhile^ think over 
 what we'd better say to them. Our attacks upon the President 
 must begin at once! I've already bought up a Washington 
 daily for that purpose. They have a few facts now that will 
 discredit his administration!" 
 
 "Very well, Mr. Ames. Ah — a — there is a matter; that I 
 must mention as soon as you are ready to hear it,, Mr. Ames — 
 regarding Avon. It seems that the reports which that girl" has 
 made have been translated into several languages, and are being 
 used by labor agitators down there to stir up trouble. The 
 mill hands, you know, never really understood, what your 
 profits were, and— well, they have always been quite ignorant, 
 you know,, regarding any details of the business^ But now 
 they think they have been enlightened — they think they see 
 how the tariff has benefited you at their sexpense-^and they are 
 extremely bitter against you. That priest. Father Danny, has 
 been doing a lot of talking since the girl was down there." 
 
 "By God!" cried AmeS, rising from his chain then sinking 
 back again. 
 
 "You see, Mr. Ames," the lawyer continued, "the situation 
 is fast becoming acute. The mill hands don't believe now that 
 you were ever justified in shutting down, or putting them on 
 half time. And, whether you reduce wages or not, they are 
 going to make very radical demands upon you in the near 
 future, unless I am misinformed. These demands include 
 better working conditions, better teneinents, shorter hours, and 
 very much higher wages. Also the enforcement of the child 
 labor law, I am sorry to say." 
 
 "They don't dare!" shouted Ames. 
 
 "But, after all, Mr. Ames, you know you have said that it 
 would strengthen your case with Congress if there should be 
 a strike at Avon." 
 
 "But not now! Not now!" cried Ames. "It would ruin 
 everything ! I am distinctly out of favor with the Presidents- 
 owing to that, little negro wench! And , Congress is going 
 against me if I lose Gossitch, Logue, and Mall ! That girl has 
 put me in bad down there! Wales is beginning to threaten! 
 ByG— " 
 
 "But, Mr. Ames, she can be removed, can she not?" 
 
 "Violence would still further injure us. But — if we can 
 drive the Express upon the shoals, and then utterly discredit 
 that girl, either in the libel suit or the Ketchim trial, why, then, 
 with a little show of bettering things at Avon, we'll get what we 
 want. But we've got work before us. Say, is — is Sidney with 
 the Express?" he added hesitatingly. 
 
 Hood started, and shot a look of mingled surprise and 
 curiosity at his master. Was it possible that Ames — 
 
 188 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "You heard my question, Mr. Hood?" 
 
 "I — I beg pardon! Yes, sir — Sidney is still with them. 
 He — a — they say he has quite conquered his — his—" 
 
 "You mean, he's no longer a sot?" Ames asked brutally. 
 "Out -with it, man! Don't sit there like a smirking Chinese 
 god!" 
 
 "Well, Mr. Ames, I learn that Sidney has been cured of his 
 habits, and that the — that girl-^did it," stammered the nervous 
 lawyer. 
 
 Ames's mouth jerked open — and then snapped shut. Si- 
 lence held him. His head slowly sank until his chin touched his 
 breast. And as he sat thus enwrapped. Hood rose and noise- 
 lessly left the room. 
 
 Alone sat the man of- gold — ah, more alone than even he 
 knew. Alone with his bruised ambitions, his hectored egoism, 
 his watery aims. Alone and plotting the ruin of those who 
 had dared bid him halt in his mad, destroying career. Alone, 
 this high priest of the caste of absolutism, of the old individual- 
 ism which is fast hurrying into the realm of the forgotten. 
 Alone, and facing a new century, with whose ideals his own 
 were utterly, stubbornly, hopelessly discrepant. 
 
 Alone he sat, looking out, unmoved, upon the want and 
 pain of countless multitudes gone down beneath the yoke of 
 conditions which he had made too hard for them. Looking, 
 unmoved, unhearing, upon the bitter struggles of the weak, 
 the ignorant, the unskilled, the gross hewers of wood and 
 drawers of water. Looking, and knowing not that in their 
 piteous cry for help and light was sounded his own dire peril. 
 
 The door opened, and the office boy announced the chief 
 stenographer of the great bank below. Ames looked up and 
 silently nodded permission for the man to enter. 
 
 "Mr. Ames," the clerk began, "I — I have come to ask a 
 favor — a great favor. I am having difficulty — considerable 
 difficulty in securing stenographers, but — I may say — my great- 
 est struggle is with myself. I — Mr. Ames, I can not — I simply 
 can not continue to hire stenographers at the old wage, nine 
 dollars a week! I know how these girls are forced to live. 
 Mr. Ames, with prices where they are now, they can not live 
 on that! May I not offer them more? Say, ten or twelve 
 dollars to start with?" 
 
 Ames looked at him fixedly. "Why do you come to me with 
 your request?" he asked coldly. "Your superior is Mr. Doan." 
 
 "Yes, sir, I know," replied the young man with hesitation. 
 "But — I — did speak to him about it, and — he refused." 
 
 "I can do nothing, sir," returned Ames in a voice that chilled 
 the man's life-current. 
 
 189 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Then I shall resign, Mr. Ames! I refuse to remain here 
 and hire stenographers at that criminal wage!" 
 
 "Very well, sir," replied Ames in the same low, freezing 
 tone. "Hand your resignation to Mr. Doan. Good day, sir." 
 
 Again the guardian of the sanctity of private property was 
 left alone. Again, as he lapsed into dark revery, his thought 
 turned back upon itself, and began the reconstruction of 
 scenes and events long since shadowy dreams. And always as 
 they built, the fair face of that young girl appeared in the fabric. 
 And always as he retraced his course, her path crossed and 
 crossed again his own. Always as he moved, her reflection fell 
 upon him — not in shadow, but in a flood of light, exposing the 
 secret recesses of his sordid soul. 
 
 He dwelt again upon the smoothness of his way in those 
 days, before her advent, when that group of canny pirates sat 
 about the Beaubien's table and laid their devious snares. It 
 was only the summer before she came that this same jolly 
 company had merged their sacred trust assets to draw the 
 clouds which that autumn burst upon the country as the worst 
 financial panic it had known in years. And so shrewdly had 
 they planned, that the Storm came unheralded from a clear 
 sky, and at a time when the nation was never more prosperous. 
 
 He laughed. It had been rich fun ! 
 
 And then, the potato scheme. They had wagered that he 
 could not put it through. How neatly he had turned the trick, 
 filled his pockets, and transformed their doubts into wondering 
 admiration! It had been rare pleasure! Oh, yes, there had 
 been some suffering, he had been told. He had not given that 
 a thought. 
 
 And the Colombian revolution! How surprised the people 
 of these United States would be some day to learn that this 
 tropic struggle was in essence an American war! The smug 
 and unthinkingly contented in this great country of ours re- 
 garded the frenzied combat in the far South as but a sort of 
 opira houffe. What fools, these Americans! And he, when 
 that war should end, would control navigation on the great 
 Magdalena and Cauca rivers, and acquire a long-term lease on 
 the emerald mines near Bogota. The price? Untold suffering 
 — countless broken hearts — indescribable, maddening torture — 
 he had not given that a thought. 
 
 He laughed again. 
 
 But he was tired, very tired. His trip to Washington had 
 been exhausting. He had not been well of late. His eyes had 
 been bloodshot, and there had been several slight hemorrhages 
 from the nose. His physician had shaken his head gravely, and 
 had admonished him to be careful — 
 
 19a 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 But why did that girl continue to fascinate him? he won- 
 dered. Why now, in all his scheming and plotting, did he 
 always see her before him? Was it only because of her rare 
 physical beauty? If he wrote or read, her portrait lay upon 
 the page; if he glanced up, she stood there facing him. There 
 was never accusation in her look, never malice, nor trace of 
 hate. Nor did she ever threaten. No; but always she smiled — 
 always she looked right into his eyesrr-^always she seemed to 
 say, "You would destroy me, but yet I love you." 
 
 God ! What a plucky little fighter she was ! And she fought 
 him fairly. Aye, much more so than he did her. She would 
 scorn the use of his methods. He had to admit that, though he 
 hated her, detested her, would have torn her into shreds — 
 even while he acknowledged that he admired her, yes, beyond 
 all others, for her wonderful bravery and her loyal stand for 
 what she considered the right. 
 
 He must have dozed while he sat there in the warm office 
 alone. Surely, that hideous object now floating before his 
 straining gaze, that thing resembling the poor, shattered Mrs. 
 Hawley-Crowles, was not real! It was but a shadow, a flimsy 
 thing of thought! And that woestricken thing there, with its 
 tenuous arms extended toward him — ^was that Gannette? Heav- 
 ens, no ! Gannette had died, stark mad ! But, that other shade 
 — so like his wife, a few months dead, yet alive again ! Whence 
 came that look of horror in a face once so haughty!- It was 
 unreal, ghastly unreal, as it drifted past! Ah, now he knew 
 that he was dreaming, for there, there in the light stood Car- 
 men! Oh, what a blessed relief to see that fair image there 
 among those other ghastly sights! He would speak to her — 
 
 But — God above! What was that? A woman--no, not 
 Carmen — fair and^- 
 
 Her white lips, moved — they were transparent. — he could 
 see right through them — and great tears dropped from her 
 bloodless cheeks when her accusing look fell upon him! 
 
 Slowly she floated nearer — she stopped before him, and laid 
 a hand upon his shoulder — it was cold, cold as ice! He tried 
 to call out — to rise — to break away — 
 
 And then, groaning aloud, and with his brow dripping per- 
 spiration, he awoke. 
 
 Hood entered, but stopped short when he saw his master's 
 white face. "Mr. Ames! You are ill!" he cried. 
 
 Ames passed a hand across his wet forehead. "A — a little 
 tired, that's all, I guess. What now?" 
 
 The lawyer laid a large envelope upon the desk. "It has 
 come," he said. "There's a delegation of Avon mill hands in 
 the outer office. Here are their demands. It's just what I 
 thought." 
 
 191 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Ames slo^y took up the envelope. For a moment he hesi- 
 tated. Again he seemed to see that smiling girl before him. His 
 jaw set, and his face drew slowly down into an expression of 
 malignity. Then, without examining its contents, he tore the 
 envelope into shreds, and cast the pieces into the waste basket. 
 
 "Put them out of the office !" he commanded sharply. "Wire 
 Pillette at once to discharge these fellows, and every one else 
 concerned in the agitation! If those rats down there want to 
 fight, they'll find me ready!" 
 
 CHAPTER 14 
 
 THE immense frame of J. Wilton Ames bent slightly, and 
 the great legs might have been seen to drag a bit, as the 
 man entered his private elevator the morning after his 
 rejection of the mill hands' demands, and turned the lever that 
 caused the lift to soar lightly to his office above. And a mouse 
 — had the immaculate condition of his luxurious sanctum 
 permitted such an alien dwellers-could have seen him sink 
 heavily into his great desk chair, and lapse into deep thought. 
 Hood, Willett, and Hodson entered in turn; but the magnate 
 gave them scant consideration, and at length waved them all 
 away, and bent anew to his meditations. 
 
 Truth to tell — though he would not have owned it — the 
 man was now dimly conscious of a new force at work upon 
 him; of a change, slowly, subtly taking place somewhere deep 
 within. He was feebly cognizant Of emotions quite unknown; 
 of unfamiliar sentiments, whose outlines were but just crys- 
 tallizing out from the thick magma of his materialistic soul. 
 
 And he fought them; he hated them; they made him appear 
 Unto himself weak, even effeminate! Ais abhorrence of sen- 
 timentalism had been among the strongest of his life-character- 
 istics; and yet, though he could not define it, a mellowing 
 something seemed to be acting upon him that dull, bitterly cold 
 winter morning, that shed a soft glow throughout his mental 
 chambers, that seemed to touch gently the hard, rugged things 
 of thought that lay within, and soften away their sharp out- 
 lines. He might not know what lay so heavily upon his thought, 
 as he sat there alone, with his head sunk upon his breast. And 
 yet the girl who haunted his dreams would have told him that 
 it was an interrogation, even the eternal question, "What shall 
 it profit a man — -T' 
 
 Suddenly he looked up. The door had opened, he thought. 
 Then he sat bolt upright and stared. 
 
 192 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Ames. May I come in?" 
 
 Come in! Had ever such heavenly music touched his ears 
 before! This was not another dreatn! The vision this time 
 •was real ! He sprang to his feet. He would have held out his 
 arms to her if he could. 
 
 And yet, how dared she come to him? How dared she, 
 after what she had done? Was this fresh affrontery? Had 
 she come again to flout him? To stand within the protection 
 which her sex afforded and vivisect anew his tired soul? But, 
 whatever her motives, this girl did the most daring things he 
 had ever seen a woman do. 
 
 "Isn't it funny," she said, as she stood before him with a 
 whimsical little smile, "that wherever I go people so seldom 
 ask me to sit down!" 
 
 Ames sank back into his seat without speaking. Carmen 
 stood for a moment looking about her rich environment; then 
 drew up a chair close to him. 
 
 "You haven't the slightest idea why I have come here, have 
 you?" she said sweetly, looking up into his face. 
 
 "I must confess myself quite ignorant of the cause of this 
 unexpected pleasure," he returned guardedly, bending his head 
 in mock deference, while the great wonder retained possession 
 of him. 
 
 "Well," she went on lightly, "will you believe me when I tell 
 you that I have come here because I love you?" 
 
 Aha! A dark suspicion sprang up within him. So this 
 was an attack from a different quarter ! Hitt and Haynerd had 
 invoked her feminine wiles, eh? 
 
 Nonsense! With one blow the unfamiliar sentiment which 
 had been shedding its influence upon him that morning laid 
 the ugly suspicion dead at his feet. A single glance into that 
 sweet face turned so lovingly up to his brought his own deep 
 curse upon himself for his hellish thought. 
 
 "You know," she bubbled, with a return of her wonted airy 
 gaiety, "I just had to run the gauntlet through guards and 
 clerks and oflBce boys to get here. Aren't you glad I didn't send 
 in my card? For then you would have refused to see me, 
 wouldn't you?"- 
 
 "I would not!" he replied harshly. Then he repented his 
 tone. "If I had known you were out there," he said more 
 gently, "I'd have sent out and had you dragged in. I — I have 
 wanted something this morning; and now I am sure it was — " 
 
 "Yes," she interrupted, taking the words out of his mouth, 
 "you wanted me. I knew you would. You see, it's just abso- 
 lutely impossible to oppose anybody who loves you. You know, 
 that's the very method Jesus gave for overcoming our enemies 
 
 193 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 — to love them, just love them to pieces, until we find that we 
 haven't any enemies at all any more. Isn't it simple? My! 
 Well, that's the way I've been doing with you — ^just loving 
 you." 
 
 The man's brows knotted, and his lips tightened. Was this 
 girl ridiculing him? Or was there aught but the deepest sin- 
 cerity expressed in the face from which he could not take his 
 eyes? Impossible! And yet, did ever human being talk so 
 strangely, so weirdlyi as she? 
 
 He bent a little closer to her. "Did you say that you loved 
 me?" he asked. "I thought you looked upon me as a human 
 monster." After all, there was a note of pathos in the question. 
 Carmen laid her hand upon his. 
 
 "It's the real you that I love," she answered gently. "The 
 monster is only human thought^the thought that has seemed 
 to mesmerize you. But you are going to throw off the mes- 
 merism, aren't you? I'll help you," she added brightly. "You're 
 going to put off the 'old man' completely— -aiid you're going to 
 begin by opening yourself and letting in a little love for those 
 poor people down at Avon, aren't you? Yes, you are!" 
 
 At the mention of the people of Avon his face became stern 
 and dark. And yet she spoke of them alone. She had not 
 mentioned the Beaiibien, Miss Wall, the Express, nor herself. 
 He noted this, and wondered. i 
 
 "You see, you don't understand, Mr. Ames. You'll be, oh, 
 so surprised some day when you learn a little about the laws of 
 thought — eveii' the way human thought operates! For you 
 can't possibly do another person an injury without that injury 
 flying back and striking you. It's a regular boomerang ! You 
 may not feel the effects of its return right away — but it does 
 return, and the effects accumulate. And then, some day, when 
 you least expect it, comes the crash! But, when you love a 
 person, why, that comes back to you too; and it never comes 
 alone. It just brings loads of good with it. It helps you, and 
 everybody. Oh, Mr. Ames," she cried, suddenly rising and seiz- 
 ing both his hands, "you've just got to love those people down 
 there! You can't help it, even if you think you can, for hate is 
 not real^ — it's an awful delusion!" 
 
 It was not so much an appeal which the girl made as an 
 aflBrmation of things true and yet to come. The mighty Thou 
 shalt not! which Moses laid upon his people, when transfused 
 by the omnipotent love of the Christ was transformed from 
 a clanking chain into a silken cord. The restriction became a 
 prophecy; for when thou hast yielded self to the benign in- 
 fluence of the Christ-principle, then, indeed, thou shalt not 
 desire to break the law of God. 
 
 194 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Carmen returned to her chair, and sat eagerly expectant. 
 Ames groped within his thought for a reply. And then his men- 
 tal grasp closed upon the words of Hood. 
 
 "They are very bitter against me — they hate me!" he re- 
 torted lamely. 
 
 "Ah, yes," she said quickly. "They reflect in kind your 
 thought of them. Your boomerangs of greed, of exploitation, 
 of utter indifference which you have hurled at them, have 
 returned upon you in hatred. Do you know that hatred is a 
 fearful poison? And do you know that another's hatred resting 
 upon you is deadly, unless you know how to meet and neutralize 
 it with love? For love is the neutralizing alkaloid." 
 
 "Love is — ^weakness," he said in a low tone. "That kind, at 
 least." 
 
 "Love weakness ! Oh ! Why, there is no such mighty power 
 in the whole universe as love! It is omnipotent! It is hatred 
 that is weak!" 
 
 Ames made a little gesture of contempt. "We argue from 
 different standpoints," he said. "I am a plain, matter-of-fact, 
 cold-blooded business man. There is no love in business!" 
 
 "And that," she replied in a voice tinged with sadness, "is 
 why business is such chaos; why there is so much failure, so 
 much anxiety, fear, loss, and unhappiness in the business world. 
 Mr. Ames, you haven't the slightest conception of real business, 
 have you?" 
 
 She sat for a moment in thought. Then, brightly, "I am in 
 business, Mr. Ames — " 
 
 "Humph ! I am forced to agree with you there ! The busi- 
 ness of attempting to annihilate me!" 
 
 "I am in the business of reflecting good to you, and to all 
 mankind," she gently corrected. 
 
 "Then suppose you manifest your love for me by refraining 
 from meddling further in my affairs. Suppose from now on 
 you let me alone." 
 
 "Why— I am not meddling with you, Mr. Ames!" 
 
 "No?" He opened a drawer of the desk and took out sev- 
 eral copies of the Express. "I am to consider that this is not 
 strictly meddling, eh?" he continued, as he laid the papers 
 before her. 
 
 "No, not at all," she promptly replied. "That's uncovering 
 evil, so's it can be destroyed. All that evil, calling itself you 
 and your business, has got to come to the surface — has got 
 to come up to the light, so that it can be—" 
 
 "Ah! I see. Then I, the monster, must be exposed, eh? 
 And afterward destroyed. A very pretty little idea! And the 
 mines and mills which I own — " 
 
 195 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "You own nothing, Mr. Ames, except by consent of the 
 people whom you oppress. They will wake up some day; and 
 then state and national ownership of public utilities will come, 
 forced by such as you." 
 
 "And that desideratum will result in making everybody 
 honest, I suppose?" 
 
 "No," she answered gravely. "We must go deeper than 
 that. All our present troubles, whether domestic, business, 
 civic, or social, come from a total misapprehension of the nature 
 of God — a misunderstanding of what is really good. We have 
 all got to prove Him. And we are very foolish to lose any 
 more time setting about it, don't you think so? 
 
 , . "You see," she went on, while he sat studying her, "those 
 poor people down at Avon don't know any more about what is 
 the real good than you do. And that's why their thoughts and 
 yours center upon the false pleasures of this ephemeral exist- 
 ence called life — this existence of the so-called physical senses — 
 and why you both become the tools of vice, diseasei and mis- 
 fortune. They build up such men as you, and then you turn 
 about and crush them. And in the end you are both what 
 the Bible says— poor, deluded fools." 
 
 "Well, I'll be—" 
 
 "Oh, don't swear!" she pleaded, again seizing his hand 
 and laughing up into his face. But then her smile vanished. 
 
 "It's time you started to prove God," she said earnestly. 
 "Won't you begin now — ^to-day? Haven't you yet learned that 
 evil is the very stupidest, dullest, most uninteresting thing in 
 the world? It is, really. Won't you turn from your material 
 endeavors now, and take time to learn to really live? You've 
 got plenty of time, you know, for you aren't obliged to work for 
 a living." 
 
 She was leaning close to him, and her breath touched his 
 cheek. Her soft little hand lay upon his own. And her great, 
 dark eyes looked into his with a light which he knew, despite 
 his perverted thought, came from the unquenchable flame of 
 her selfless love. 
 
 Again that unfamiliar sentiment — nay, rather, that senti- 
 ment long dormant — stirred within him. Again his worldly 
 concepts, long entrenched, instantly rose to- meet and overthrow 
 it. He had not yet learned to analyse the thoughts which crept 
 so silently into his ever-open mentality. To all alike he gave 
 free access. And to those which savored of things earthy he 
 still gave the power to build, with himself as a willing tool. 
 
 "You will — help me — to live?" he said. He thought her the 
 most gloriously beautiful object he had ever known, as she sat 
 there before him, so simply gowned, and yet clothed with that 
 which all the gold of Ophir could not have bought. 
 
 196 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Yes, gladly — oh, so gladly !" Her eyes sparkled with a rush 
 of tears. 
 
 "Don't you think," he said gently, drawing his chair a little 
 closer to her, "that we have quite misunderstood each other? 
 I am sure we have." 
 
 "Perhaps so," she answered thoughtfully. "But," with a 
 happy smile again lighting her features, "we can understand 
 each other now, can't we?" 
 
 "Of course we can! And hasn't the time come for us to 
 work together, instead of continuing- to oppose each other?" 
 
 "Yes! yes, indeed!" she cried eagerly. 
 
 "I — I have been thinking so ever since I returned yesterday 
 from Washington. I am — I — " 
 
 "We need each other, don't we?" the artless girl exclaimed, 
 as she teamed upon him. 
 
 "1 am positive of it!" he said with suggestive emphasis, "I 
 can help you — more than you realize — and I want to. I — I've 
 been sorry for you, little girl, mighty sorry, ever since that 
 story got abroad about — " 
 
 "Oh, never mind that!" she interrupted happily. "We are 
 living in the present, you know." 
 
 "True— and in the future. But things haven't been right 
 for you. And I want to see them straightened out. And you 
 and I can do it, little one. Madam Beaubien hasn't been 
 treated right, either. And — " 
 
 "There!" she laughed, holding up a warning finger. "We're 
 going to forget that in the good we're going to do, aren't we?" 
 
 "Yes, that's so. And you are going to get a square deal. 
 Now, I've got a plan to make everything right. . I want to see 
 you in the place that belongs to you. I want to see you happy, 
 and surrounded by all that is rightfully yours. And if you will 
 join me, we will bring that all about. I told you this once be- 
 fore, you may remember." 
 
 He stopped and awaited the effect of his words upon the 
 girl. 
 
 "But, Mr. Ames," she replied, her eyes shining with a great 
 hope, "don't think about me ! It's the people at Avon that I 
 want to help." 
 
 "We'll help them, you and I. We'll make things right all 
 round. And Madam Beaubien shall have no further trouble. 
 Nor shall the Express/' 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Ames! Do you really mean it? And — Sidney?" 
 
 "Sidney shall come home — " 
 
 With a rush the impulsive girl, forgetting all but the ap- 
 parent success of her mission, threw herself upon him and 
 clasped her arms about his neck, "Oh," she cried, "it is love 
 that has done all this! And it has won you!" 
 
 197 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The startled man strained the girl tightly in his arms. He 
 could feel the quick throbbing in her throat. Her warm breath 
 played upon his cheek like fitful tropic breezes. For a brief 
 moment the supreme gift of the universe seemed to be laid at 
 his feet. For a fleeting interval the man of dust faded, and a 
 new being, pure and white, seemed to rise within him. 
 
 "Yes," he murmured gently, "we'll take him to our home 
 with us." 
 
 Slowly* very slowly, the girl released herself from his em- 
 brace and stepped back. "With^— us?" she murmured, searching 
 his face for the meaning which she had dimly discerned in his 
 words. 
 
 "Yes — listen!" He reached forward and with a quick move- 
 ment seized her hand. "Listen, little girl. I want you — I want 
 you! Not now — no, you needn't come to me until you are 
 ready. But say that you will come ! Say that! Why, I didn't 
 know until to-day what it was that was making me over ! It's 
 you! Don't go! Don't—" 
 
 Carmen had struggled away from him, and, with a look of 
 bewilderment upon her face, was moving toward the door. 
 "Oh, I didn't know," she murmured, "that you were — were — 
 proposing marriage to me!" 
 
 "Don't you understand?" he pursued. "We'll just make, all 
 things new! We'll begin all over again, you and I! Why, I'll 
 do anything — anything in the world you say. Carmen, if you 
 will come to me — if you will be my little wife ! 
 
 "I know — I know," he hastily resumed, as she halted and . 
 stood seemingly rooted to the floor, "there is a great difference 
 in our ages. But that is nothing — many happy marriages are 
 made between ages just as far apart as ours. Think — ^think 
 what it means to you! I'll make you a queen! I'll surround 
 you with limitless wealth! I'll make you leader of society! 
 I'll make Madam Beaubien rich ! I'll support the Express, and 
 make it what you want it to be ! I'll do whatever you say for 
 the people of Avon ! Think, little girl, what depends now upon 
 you!" 
 
 Carmen turned and came slowly back to him. "And — ^you 
 will not do these things — unless I marry you?" she said in a 
 voice scarcely above a whisper. 
 
 "I will do them all. Carmen, if you will come to me!" 
 
 '^But — oh, you were only deceiving me all the time! And 
 now — if I refuse — then what?" 
 
 "It depends upon you, entirely — and you will come? Not 
 now — ^but within the next few months — ^within the year — tell 
 me that you will!" 
 
 "But — ^ypu will do these things whether I come to you or 
 not?" she persisted. 
 
 198 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "I've put it all into your hands," he answered shortly. "I've 
 named the condition." 
 
 'A strange look crossed the girl's face. She stood as if 
 stunned. Then she glanced about in helpless bewilderment. 
 
 "I — I — ^love — you," she murmured, as she looked off tbward 
 the window, but with unseeing eyes. "I would do anything for 
 you that was right. I — love — everybody — everybody; but there 
 are no conditions to my love. Oh!" she suddenly cried, bury- 
 ing her face in her hands and bursting into tears. "You have 
 tried to buy me!" 
 
 Ames rose and came to her. Taking her by the hand he 
 led her, unresisting, back to her chair. 
 
 "Listen,'' he said, bending toward her. "Go home now and 
 think it all over. Then let me know your answer. It was 
 sudden, I admit; I took you by surprise. But — ^well, you are 
 not going to prevent the accomplishment of all that good, are 
 you? Think! It all depends upon your word!" 
 
 The girl raised her tear-stained face. She had been crushed; 
 and another lesson in the cruelty of the human mind — ^that 
 human mind which has changed not in a thousand years — 
 had been read to her. But again she smiled bravely, as she 
 wiped her eyes. 
 
 "It's all right now," she murmured. "It was all right all 
 the time — and I was protected." 
 
 Then she turned to him. "Some day," she said gently, and 
 in a voice that trembled just a little, "you will help the people 
 of Avon, but not because I shall marry you. God does not 
 work that way. I have loved you. And I love them. And 
 nothing can kill that love. God will open the way." 
 
 "Then you refuse my offer, do you?" he asked sharply, as 
 his face set. "Remember, all the blame will be upon you. I 
 have shown you a way out." 
 
 She looked up at him. She saw now with a clairvoyance 
 which separated him from the mask which he had worn. Her 
 glance penetrated until it found his soul. 
 
 "You have shown me the depths of the carnal mind," she 
 slowly replied. "The responsibility is not with me, but with — 
 God. I— I came to-day to — ^to help you. But now I must leave 
 you — ^with Him." 
 
 "Humph!" 
 
 He stooped and took up her muff which lay upon the floor. 
 As he did so, a letter fell out. He seized it and glanced at the 
 superscription. 
 
 "Cartagena! To Jos6 de Rinc6n! Another little billet-doux 
 to your priestly lover, eh?" 
 
 She looked down at the letter which he held. "It is money," 
 
 199 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 she said, though her thought seemed far away. "Money that 
 I am sending to a little newsboy who bears his name." 
 
 "Ha! His brat! But, you still love that fallen priest?" 
 
 "Yes," was the whispered answer. 
 
 He rose and opened a drawer in his desk. Taking out a 
 paper-bound book, he held it out to the girl. "Look here," he 
 sneered. "Here's a little piece of work which your brilliant 
 lover did some time ago. 'Confessions of a Roman Catholic 
 Priest.* Do you know the penalty your clerical paramour paid 
 for that, eh? Then I'll tell you," bending over' close to her 
 ear, "his life!" 
 
 Carmen rose unsteadily. The color had fled from her 
 cheeks. She staggered a few steps toward the door, then 
 stopped. "God — is — is — everywhere!" she murmured. It was 
 the refuge of her childhood days. 
 
 Then she reeled, and fell heavily to the floor. 
 
 CHAPTER 15 
 
 IF additional proof of the awful cost of hating one's fellow- 
 men were required, the strike which burst upon the in- 
 dustrial world that winter must furnish it in sickening ex- 
 cess. But other facts, too, were rendered glaringly patent by 
 that same desperate clash which made Avon a shambles and 
 transformed its fair name into a by-word, to be spoken only 
 in hushed whispers when one's thought dwells for a moment 
 upon the madness of the carnal mind that has once tasted 
 blood. The man-cleft chasm between labor and capital, that 
 still unbridged void which separates master and servant, and 
 which a money-drunk class insolently calls God-made, grows 
 wider with each roar of musketry aimed by a frenzied militia 
 at helpless men and women; grows deeper with each splitting 
 crack of the dynamite that is laid to tear asunder the con- 
 scienceless wielder of the goad; and must one day fall gaping 
 in a cavernous embouchure that will engulf a nation. 
 
 Hitt saw it, and shuddered; Haynerd, too, Ames may have 
 dimly marked the typhoon on the horizon, but, like everything 
 that manifested opposition to this superhuman will, it only set 
 his teeth the firmer and thickened the callous about his cold 
 heart. Carmen saw it, too. And she knew — and the world must 
 some day know — that but one tie has ever been designed ade- 
 quate to bridge this yawning caiion of human hatred. That tie 
 is love. Aye, well she knew that the world laughed, and called 
 it chimera; called it idealism, and emotional weakness. And 
 
 200 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ■well she knew that the most pitiable wealmess the world has 
 ever seen was the class privilege which nailed the bearer of 
 the creed of love upon the cross, and to-day manifests in the 
 frantic grasping of a nation's resources, and the ruthless mur- 
 der of those who ask that they, too, may have a share in that 
 abundance which is the common birthright of all. Do the 
 political bully, the grafter, the tout, know the meaning of love? 
 No; but they can be taught. Oh, not by the hypocritical mil- 
 lionaire pietists who prate their glib platitudes to their Sunday 
 Bible classes, and return to their luxurious homes to order the 
 slaughter of starving women and babes ! They, like their poor 
 victims, are deep under the spell of that mesmerism which tells 
 them that evil is good. Nor by the Church, with its lamentable 
 weakness of knowledge and works. Only by those who have 
 learned something of the Christ-principle, and are striving daily 
 to demonstrate its omnipotence in part, can the world be taught 
 a saving knowledge of the love that solves every problem and 
 creates a new heaven and a newer, better concept of the earth 
 and its fullness. 
 
 That morning when Carmen went to see Ames the Express 
 received word of the walk-out of the Avon mill employes. Al- 
 most coincident with the arrival of the news, Carmen herself 
 came unsteadily into Hitt's office. The editor glanced up at 
 her, then looked a second time. He had never before seen her 
 face colorless. Finally he laid down his papers. 
 
 "What's happened?" he asked. 
 
 "Nothing," answered the girl, "What work have you — for 
 me — to-day?" She smiled, though her lips trembled. 
 
 "Where have you been?" he pursued, scanning her closely. 
 
 She did not reply at once. Then, so low that he scarcely 
 caught the words, "I — I have been with — a friend." 
 
 Sidney Ames came puffing into the office at that moment. 
 "Hello!" he cried as he saw Carmen. "How does it happen 
 you're out riding with Willett? Saw him help you out of an 
 auto just now." 
 
 "He brought me here," she answered softly. 
 
 "Where from?" 
 
 "Your father's office." 
 
 Hitt and the lad stared at her with open mouths. She 
 turned, and started for her own room, moving as if in a haze. 
 As she neared the door she stumbled. Sidney sprang after 
 her and caught her in his arms. When she turned her face, 
 they saw that her eyes were swimming in tears. 
 
 Hitt was on his feet instantly. "Look here!" he cried. 
 "Something's wrong ! Leave us, Sidney. Let me talk with her 
 alone." 
 
 201 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The boy reluctantly obeyed. Hitt closed the door after him, 
 then took the girl's hand and led her back to his own chair. 
 "NoWi little one," he said gently, "tell me all about it." 
 
 For a moment she sat quiet. Then the tears began to flow; 
 and then she leaned her head against him and sobbed — sobbed 
 as does the stricken mother who hangs over the lifeless form 
 of her babe- — sobbed as does the strong man bereft of the friend 
 of his bosom — sobbed as did the Man of Sorrow, when he held 
 out his arms over the worldly city that cruelly rejected him. 
 He was the channel for the divine; yet the wickedness of the 
 human mind broke his great heart. Carmen was not far from 
 him at that moment. 
 
 Hitt held her hand, and choked back the lump that filled 
 his throat. Then the weeping slowly ceased, and the girl looked 
 up into his anxious face. 
 
 "It's all past now," she said brokenly. "Jesus forgave them 
 that killed him. And—" 
 
 "You have been with — Ames?" said Hitt in a low, quiet tone. 
 "And he tried to kill you?" 
 
 "He^ — he knew not what he was doing. Evil used him, be- 
 cause as yet he has no spiritual understanding. But — God is 
 life! There is — no- — death!" Her voice faded away in a 
 whisper. 
 
 "Well, little girl, I am waiting for the whole story. What 
 happened?" 
 
 Carmen got to her feet. "Nothing happened, Mr. Hitt — 
 nothing. It didn't happen — it wasn't real. I — I seemed to 
 manifest weakness — and I fell — ^to the floor — ^but I didn't lose 
 consciousness. And just then Mr. Willett came in — and Mr. 
 Ames sent me here "with him." 
 
 "But what had Ames said to you. Carmen?" persisted Hitt, 
 his face dark with anger. 
 
 The girl smiled feebly, "I see Mr. Ames only as — as God's 
 child," she murmured. "Evil is not real, and it doesn't happen. 
 Now I want to work — ^work as I never did before! I must! 
 / mustl" 
 
 "Will you not tell me more about it?" he asked, for he 
 knew now that a deadly thrust had been made at the girl's life. 
 
 She brushed the tears away from her eyes. "It didn't hap- 
 pen," was her reply. "Good is all that is. God is life. There 
 is no death!" 
 
 A suspicion flashed into Hitt's mind, kindled by the girl's 
 insistence upon the nothingness of death. "Carmen," he asked, 
 "did he tell you that — some one had died?" 
 
 She came to him and laid her head against him. Her hapds 
 stole into his, "Don't ! Please, Mr. Hitt ! We must never 
 
 202 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 speak of this again! Promise me! I shall overcome it, for God 
 is with me. Promise that no one but us shall know! Make 
 Sidney promise. It — it is — for me." 
 
 The man's eyes grew moist, and his throat filled. He drew 
 the girl to him and kissed her forehead. "It shall be as you 
 wish, little one," he said in a choking voice. 
 
 "Now set me to work!" she cried wildly. "Anything! This 
 is another opportunity to — ^to prove God! I must prove Him! 
 I must — right here!" 
 
 He turned to his desk with a heavy heart. "There is work 
 to be done now," he said. "I wonder—^" 
 
 She took the telegram from his hands and scanned it. At 
 once she became calm, her own sorrow swallowed up in selfless 
 love. "Oh, they have gone out at Avon! Those mothers and 
 children — they need me! Mr. Hitt, I must go there at once!" 
 
 "I thought so," he replied, swallowing hard. "I knew what 
 you would do. But you are in higher hands than mine. Car- 
 men. Go home now, and get ready. You can go down in the 
 morning. And we, Sidney and I* will say nothing of— of your 
 visit to his father." 
 
 That night Hitt called up the Beaubien and asked if he and 
 Haynerd might come and talk with her after the paper had 
 gone to press, and requesting that she notify Carmen and 
 Father Waite. A few hours later the little group met quietly 
 in the humble cottage. Miss Wall and Sidney were with them. 
 And to them all those first dark hours of morning, when as yet 
 the symbol of God's omnipresence hung far below the horizon, 
 seemed prescient with a knowledge of evil's further claims to 
 the lives and fortunes of men. 
 
 "I have asked you here," Hitt gravely announced when they 
 were assembled, "to consider a matter which touches us all — 
 how deeply, God alone knows. At ten o'clock to-night I re- 
 ceived this message." He opened the paper which he held in 
 his hand and read: 
 
 "'Property of Hitt oil company, including derriclcs, pump houses, 
 storage tanks, destroyed by Are. Dynamite in pump houses exploded, 
 causing wells to cave and choke. Loss complete. Wire instructions.' " 
 
 The news burst over them like the cracking of a bomb. 
 Haynerd, who, like the others, had been kept in ignorance of 
 the message until now, started from his chair with a loud ex- 
 clamation, then sank back limp. Carmen's face went white. 
 Evil seemed to have chosen that day with canny shrewdness to 
 overwhelm her with its quick sallies from out the darkness of 
 the carnal mind. 
 
 203 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Hitt broke the tense silence. "I see in this," he said slowly, 
 "the culmination of a long series of efforts to ruin the Express. 
 That my oil property was deliberately wrecked, I have not the 
 slightest doubt. Nor can I doubt by whose hand." 
 
 "Whose?" demanded Haynerd, having again found his voice. 
 "Ames's?" 
 
 Hitt replied indirectly. "The Express has stood before the 
 world as a paper unique and apart. And because of its high 
 ideals, the forces of evil singled it out at the beginning for their 
 murderous assaults. That the press of this country is very 
 generally muzzled, stifled, bought and paid for, I have good 
 reason now to know. My constant brushes with the liquor in- 
 terests, with low politicia;ns; judges, senators, and dive-keepers, 
 have not been revealed even to you. Could yOu know the pres- 
 sure which the Church, both Catholic and Protestant, has tried 
 to exert upon us, you would scarce fcredit me with veracity. 
 But the Express has stood out firm, against feudalism, mediae- 
 valism, and entrenched ecclesiasticism. It has fearlessly op- 
 posed the legalizing of drugging. It has fought the debauching 
 of a nation's manhood by the legalized sale of a deadly poison, 
 alcohol. And it has fought without quarter the pernicious 
 activity of morally stunted brbwers and distillers, whose hellish 
 motto is, 'Make the boys drink!' It has fought the money 
 octopus, arid again and again has sounded to the world the peril 
 which money-drunken criminals like Ames and his clique con- 
 stitute. And for that we must now wear the crown of mar- 
 tyrdom !" 
 
 Silence, dismal and empty, lay over the little room for a 
 long time. Then Hitt resumed. "The Express has not been 
 self-supporting. Its growth has been steady, but it has de- 
 pended for its deficit upon the revenue from my oil property. 
 And so have we all. Ames ruined Madam Beaubien financially, 
 as well as Miss Wall. He cleaned you out, Ned. And now, 
 knowing that we all depended upon my oil wells, he has, I 
 doubt not, completely removed that source of income." 
 
 "But," exclaimed Haynerd, "your property was insured, 
 wasn't it?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Hitt, with a feeble attempt at a smile. "But 
 with the proviso that dynamite should not be kept on the 
 premises. You will note that dynamite wrecked the wells. That 
 doubtless renders my policies void. But, even in case I should 
 have a fighting chance with the insurance companies, don't you 
 think that they will be advised that I purposely set fire to the 
 wells, in order to collect the insurance? I most certainly do. 
 And I shall find myself with a big lawsuit on my hands, and 
 with no funds to conduct the fight. Ames's work, you Tinow, 
 
 204 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 is always thorough, and the Express is already facing his suit 
 for libel." 
 
 "But you told us you were going to mortgage your prop- 
 erty," said Miss Wall. 
 
 "I stood ready to, should the Express require it. But, with 
 its recent little boom, our paper did not seem to need that as 
 yet," he returned. 
 
 "Good God!" cried Haynerd. "We're done for!" 
 
 "Yes, Ned, God is good!" It was Carmen who spoke. 
 
 Hitt turned quickly to the girl. "Can you say that, after 
 all you have endured. Carmen?" 
 
 He looked at her for a moment, lost in wonder. "An out- 
 cast babe," he murmured, "left on the banks of a great river 
 far, far away; reared without knowledge of father or mother, 
 and amid perils that hourly threatened to crush her; torn from 
 her beloved ones and thrust out into an unknown and unsym- 
 pathetic world; used as a stepping-stone to advance the low 
 social ambitions of worldly women; blackened by the foulest 
 slander, and ejected as an outcast by those who had fawned 
 at her feet; still going about with her beautiful message of love, 
 even though knowing that her childhood home is enveloped in 
 the flames of war, and her dear ones scattered, perhaps lost; 
 spurned from the door of the rich man whom she sought to 
 save; carrying with her always the knowledge that the one 
 upon whom her affections had centered had a son in distant 
 Cartagena, and yet herself contributing to the support of the 
 little lad ; and now, this morning — " He stopped; for he re- 
 membered his promise. 
 
 "This morning," she finished, "shielded by the One who is 
 both Father and Mother to me." 
 
 "That One surely ought to love you. Carmen — " 
 
 "He does," she answered softly. 
 
 "Well!" put in Haynerd, torn with anger and fear. "What 
 are we going to do now?" 
 
 "Everything, Ned, that error seems, to tell us not to do," 
 replied the girl. 
 
 She reached over to the little table that stood near, and took 
 from it a Bible. Opening it, she read aloud, very slowly, the 
 entire fourteenth chapter of Exodus. Then she concluded 
 by reading the last two verses of the eighth chapter of 
 Romans. 
 
 "Now," she said, looking up, "we know what we are going 
 to do, don't we? We are going right on, as 'seeing Him who is 
 invisible' to men like Mr. Ames." 
 
 They sat looking at her in silence. 
 
 "There is no curse, whether of the Church, or of business, 
 
 205 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 or of any department of human thought, that can overthrow 
 legitimate business; and we are in the legitimate business of 
 reflecting God to the world. If the physical' sense of supply is 
 now lost, we are fortunate, for now we are obliged to acquire 
 a higher sense. All that we have comes from God. And we 
 become aware of it in our own consciousness. It is there that 
 we interpret His supply. Mr. Ames interprets it one way; we, 
 in a very different way. God has always been able to prepare 
 a table in the wilderness of human thought. If we look for 
 supply from without, we shall not find it, for everything is 
 within. And the very fact that there is a legitimate demand 
 shows that there is the supply to meet it, for — though the world 
 hasn't learned this yet — it is the supply itself that really creates 
 the demand I" 
 
 "But money makes the wheels go!" retorted Haynerd. 
 
 "Money, Ned, is the counterfeit of God. He is our only 
 supply. He is our Principle^-^infinite, inexhaustible. He is our 
 credit — without limit! We are facing a crisis, but, like every 
 seeming disturbance of the infinite harmony, it will vanish in a 
 little while if we but cling to the divine Mind that is God for 
 guidance." 
 
 Hitt folded the telegram and returned it to his pocket. "Are 
 you going to Avon to-morrow?" he abruptly asked of the girl. 
 
 "Yes, why not?" 
 
 "We can't afford it now!" cried Haynerd. 
 
 Hitt reflected a moment. Then he rose. "And we sit here 
 lamenting!" he exclaimed. "And when we have in our midst 
 this girl, who has borne, without one word of complaint or re- 
 viling, the world's most poignant sorrows! I — I really regret 
 that I told you of — of this telegram. I seemed for a moment to 
 be overwhelmed. But I am on my feet again now!" 
 
 He reached into a pocket and took out some bills, which he 
 handed to Carmen. "That will see you through for a day or so 
 down there. If you need more, wire me. I'll get it from some 
 source ! Come," he added, beckoning to Haynerd, "the Express 
 will be issued to-morrow as usual, and we must get to bed. I've 
 really had quite a strenuous day!" He turned, then paused and 
 looked at Carmen. 
 
 The girl caught the meaning in his glance, and went di- 
 rectly to the piano. Hitt followed and bent over her. 
 
 "Don't," he said, "if you do not feel like it. This day has 
 been a hard one for you, I know. And—" 
 
 "But I do feel like it," she answered, smiling up at him. "I 
 want to sing for you. And," her voice dropped low, "I want to 
 sing to — Him." 
 
 Hitt gulped down something in his throat. "The bravest 
 
 206 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 little girl in the whole wide world!" he muttered through his 
 set teeth. 
 
 • •»♦»» 
 
 The carnage at Avon was not incidental; it was the logical 
 effect of definite mental causes. It was the orderly sequence of 
 an endless train of hatred of man for man, bred of greed and 
 the fear of starvation. And starvation is the externalized hu- 
 man belief that life is at the caprice of intelligent matter. But 
 that is an infraction of the first Commandment, given when the 
 human race was a babe. 
 
 When the mill hands left their looms at evening of the 
 day following Ames's rejection of their demands, the master 
 closed the doors behind them and locked them out. Were not 
 these mills his? 
 
 No, they were a sacred trust asset. 
 
 Bah! The parrot-cry of the maudlin sentimental! 
 
 But, four thousand men, women, and little children, with 
 never a dollar beyond their earnings of the day, thrust out into 
 the blasts of the bitterest winter the New England states had 
 known in years! 
 
 True; but why, then, did they strike? For, you see, that of 
 itself proved the soundness of Ames's single reply to all 
 further appeal: "There is nothing whatever to arbitrate." 
 
 In the garden of the human mind waves many a flower, 
 both black and red, fanned by the foul winds of carnal thought. 
 There grow the brothel, the dive, the gin-shop, the jail. About 
 these hardier stems twine the hospital, the cemetery, the mad- 
 house, the morgue. And Satan, "the man-killer from the be- 
 ginning," waters their roots and makes fallow the soil with the 
 blood of fools. But of those for whom the gardener waits, there 
 is none whose blood is so life-giving to these noxious plants as 
 that type of the materially rich who, like Ames, have waxed 
 gross upon the flesh of their own brothers. 
 
 Ames was a gambler in human lives. They were his 
 chips, by which he gained or lost, and of themselves were void 
 of intrinsic value. The world was the table whereon he played; 
 the game rouge et noir, with the whirl of predatory commer- 
 cialism as the wheel, and the ball weighted to drop where he 
 might direct. He carried millions on margin, and with them 
 carried the destinies, for weal or for woe, of millions of his 
 fellow-men, with not one thought that he did so at the cost of 
 their honor and morality, not less than their life-blood. 
 
 It had been his custom to close his mills for several months 
 each year, in order to save expense when times were dull. And 
 he did this as casually as he closed the doors of his stables, and 
 with much less thought for the welfare of those concerned.; It 
 
 207 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 is doubtful if he had ever really considered the fact that these 
 four thousand human beings, were wholly dependent upon him 
 for their very existence. For he was a business man, and gold 
 was far weightier in the scale of values than human flesh, and 
 much less easily obtained. Cain's comforting philosophy was 
 quite correct, else would the business world not have been so 
 firmly established upon it. Besides, he was terribly busy; and 
 his life was lived upon a plane high, high above that upon 
 which these swarming toilers groveled with their snouts in 
 the dust. 
 
 And now, with the doors of his mills barred against the 
 hungry hordes, he would frame the terms upon which they 
 should be reopened. The eight-hour law must not be enforced. 
 Perhaps he could influence the Supreme Court to declare it 
 unconstitutional, as depriving the mill haiids of the right to 
 labor as long as they pleased. Wages should not be raised. 
 And the right to organize and band together for their common 
 good would be contemptuously denied the ignorant rats who 
 should be permitted to toil for him once more. If they offered 
 violence, there was the state militia, armed and impatient to 
 slay. Also, this was an excellent opportunity to stamp out 
 trade-unionism within the confines of his activities. He would 
 win the plaudits of the whole industrial world by so doing. He 
 therefore immediately got in touch with the Governor, a Tam- 
 many puppet, and received that loyal henchman's warm as- 
 surances of hearty support for any measures which the great 
 magnate might wish to enforce. He then approached the offi- 
 cers of the state guard, and secured them to a man. Times 
 were hard, and they welcomed his favor. He finally posted 
 armed guards in all his buildings at Avon, and bade them re- 
 member that property rights were of divine institution. Then 
 he sat down and dictated the general policy to be followed by 
 the Amalgamated Spinners' Association throughout the country 
 in support of his own selfish ends. 
 
 His activity in these preparations, as in everything, was 
 tremendous. His agents swarmed over the state like ants. The 
 Catholic Archbishop was instructed that he must remove Father 
 Danny from Avon, as his influence was pernicious. But the 
 objection was made that the priest was engaged only in humani- 
 tarian labors. It availed not ; Ames desired the man's removal. 
 And removed he was. Th€ widow Marcus likewise had been 
 doing much talking. Ames's lawyer, Collins, had her haled 
 into court and thoroughly reprimanded. And then, that mat- 
 ters might be precipitated, and Congress duly impressed with 
 the necessity of altering the cotton schedule in favor of the 
 Spinners' Association, Ames ordered his agents to raise the 
 
 208 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 rents of his miserable Avon tenements. There were few, he 
 knew, who dared even attempt to meet the raise; and those 
 who could not, he ordered set into the streets. 
 
 It was a wild winter's day that the magnate chose for the 
 enforcement of this cruel order. A driving blizzard had raged 
 throughout the night, and the snow had banked up in drifts in 
 places many feet deep. • The temperature was freezing, and the 
 strong east wind cut like a knife. It was Ames's desire to teach 
 these scum a needed lesson, and he had chosen to enlist the 
 elements to aid him in the righteous task. 
 
 For a week, ever since the strike was declared. Carmen had 
 lived among these hectored people. Daily her reports of the 
 unbearable situation had gone to Hitt. And through them the 
 editor had daily striven to awaken a nation's conscience. Ames 
 read the articles, and through the columns of the Budget sought 
 to modify them to the extent of shifting the responsibility to 
 the shoulders of the mill hands themselves, and to a dilatory 
 Congress that was criminally negligent in so framing a cotton 
 tariff as to make such industrial suffering possible. Nor 
 did he omit to foully vilify the Express and calumniate its 
 personnel. 
 
 Amid curses, screams, and despairing wails, the satanic 
 work of ejecting the tenement dwellers went on that day. 
 Ames's hirelings, with loaded rifles, assisted the constables and 
 city police in the miserable work, themselves cursing often be- 
 cause of the keen blasts that nipped their ears and numbed 
 their well-cased limbs. More than one tiny, wailing babe was 
 frozen at the breast that dull, drab afternoon, when the sun 
 hung like a ghastly clot of human blood just above the horizon, 
 and its weird, yellow light flitted through the snow-laden 
 streets like gaunt spectres of death. More than one aged, toil- 
 spent laborer, broken at the loom in the service of his insatia- 
 ble master, fell prone in the drifts and lay there till his thin 
 life-current froze and his tired heart stopped. More than one 
 frenzied, despairing father, forgetful for the moment of the 
 divine right of property, rushed at a guard and madly strove 
 with him, only to be clubbed into complaisance, or, perchance, 
 be left in a welter of crimson on the drifting snow. Carmen 
 saw it all. She had been to see Pillette that same morning, 
 and had been laughed from his presence. She did not under- 
 stand, she was told, what miserable creatures these were tliat 
 dared ask for bread and human rights. Wait; they themselves 
 would show their true colors. 
 
 And so they did. And the color was red. And it spurted 
 like fountains from their veins. And they saw it with dim- 
 ming eyes, and were glad, for it brought sweet oblivion. That 
 
 59 209 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 night there were great fires built along the frozen creek. Shacks 
 and tents were hastily reared; and the shivering, trembling 
 women and babes given a desperate shelter. Then the men, 
 sullen and grim, drew off into little groups, and into the saloons 
 and gambling halls of the town. And when the blizzard was 
 spent, and the cold stars were dropping their frozen light, these 
 dull-witted things began to move, slowly at first, circling about 
 like a great forming nebula, but gaining momentum and power 
 with each revolution. More than a thousand strong, they 
 circled out into the frozen streets of the little town, and up 
 along the main thoroughfare. Their dull murmurs slowly 
 gained volume. Their low curses welled into a roar. And 
 then, like the sudden bursting of pent-up lava, they swept madly 
 through the town, carrying everything to destruction before 
 them. 
 
 Stores, shops, the bank itself, burst open before this wave 
 of maddened humanity. Guns and pistols were thrown from 
 laden shelves to the cursing, sweating mob below. Axes and 
 knives were gathered by armfuls, and borne out into the streets 
 to the whirling mass. Great barrels of liquor were rolled into 
 the gutters and burst asunder. Bread and meat were dragged 
 from the shops and savagely devoured. The police gathered 
 and planted themselves with spitting pistols before the human 
 surge. They went down like grass under stampeded cattle. 
 Frightened clerks and operators rushed to the wires and sent 
 wild, incoherent appeals for help to New York. Pandemonium 
 had the reins, the. carnal mind was unleashed. 
 
 On rolled the mob, straight on to the massive stone house 
 of Pillette, the resident manager of the great Ames mills. On 
 over 'the high iron fence, like hungry dock rats. On through 
 the battered gate. On up the broad drive, shouting, shooting, 
 moaning, raving. On over the veranda, and in through broken 
 windows and shattered doors, swarming like flies over reeking 
 carrion, until the flames which burst through the peaked roof 
 of the mansion drove them forth, and made them draw sul- 
 lenly, protestingly away, leaving the tattered bodies of Pillette 
 and his wife and daughters to be consumed in the roaring 
 furnace. 
 
 Oh, ye workers, ye toilers at loom and forge, it is indeed 
 you who bear the world's burdens! It is you who create the 
 rich man's wealth, and fight his battles. So ye fought in the 
 great war between North and South, and protected the rich man 
 at home, hovering in fright over his money bags. It is you 
 who put into his hands the bayonet which he turns against you 
 to guard his wealth and maintain his iniquitous privilege. It 
 is indeed in your hands that the destinies of this great nation 
 
 210 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 lie; but what -will ye do with your marvelous opportunity? 
 What, with your stupendous, untried strength? Will ye once 
 more set up the golden calf, and prostrate yourselves before it? 
 Will ye again enthrone ecclesiastical despotism, and grovel be- 
 fore image of Virgin and Saint? Will ye raise high the powers 
 of mediaeval darkness, and bend your necks anew to the yoke 
 of ignorance and stagnation? But think you now that flames 
 and dynamite will break your present bonds? Aye, America 
 may be made a land without a pauper, without a millionaire, 
 without industrial strife. But fire and sword will not effect the 
 transformation. Yes, perhaps, as has been said, our "comfort- 
 able social system and its authority will some day be blown to 
 atoms." But shall we then be better off than we are to-day? 
 For shall we know then how to use our precious liberty? 
 
 Blood-drunk and reeling, the mob turned from the flaming 
 wreckage and flowed down toward the mills. There were 
 some among them, saner, and prescient of the dire consequences 
 of their awful work, who counseled restraint. But they were 
 as chips in a torrent. Down into the creek bottom rolled the 
 seething tide, with a momentum that carried it up the far side 
 and crashing into the heavily barred oak doors of the great 
 mills. A crushing hail of bullets fell upon them, and their 
 leaders went down; but the mass wavered not. Those within 
 the buildings knew that they would become carrion in the maws 
 of the ravening wolves outside, and fought with a courage fed 
 with desperation. 
 
 In the solemn hush of death Socrates said, "The hour of 
 departure has arrived, and we go our ways, I to die and you to 
 live. Which is better, God only knows." And mankind through 
 the ages in their last hours have echoed this sentiment of the 
 gentle philosopher. For all human philosophy leads to a single 
 end — resignation. 
 
 But hunger transforms resignation into madness. And mad- 
 ness is murder. The frenzied hordes swarming about the Ames 
 mills knew in their heart of hearts that death was preferable 
 to life in death under the goad of human exploitation. But 
 such knowledge came only in rational moments. Now they 
 were crazed and beyond reason. 
 
 In the distance, across the swale, the sky glowed red where 
 the souls of the agent of predatory wealth and his family had 
 gone out in withering heat. In the stricken town, men huddled 
 their trembling loved ones about them and stood with loaded 
 muskets. Somewhere on the steel bands that linked this scene 
 of carnage with the great metropolis beyond, a train plunged 
 and roared, leaping over the quivering rails at the rate of a 
 hundred miles an hour, bringing eager militiamen and their 
 
 211 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 deadly instruments of civilization. For the Ames mills were 
 private property. And that was a divine institution. 
 
 In his luxurious office in the tower of the Ames building the 
 master sat that black night, surrounded by his laboring cohorts. 
 Though they strained under the excitement of the hour, Ames 
 himself remained calm and determined. He was in constant 
 communication with the Governor at Albany, and with the 
 municipal officers of both New York and Avon. He had re- 
 ceived the tidings of the destruction of the Pillette family with 
 a grim smile. But the smile had crystallized into an expression 
 of black, malignant hatred when he demanded of the Governor 
 that the New York contingent of the state guard be sent at once 
 to protect his property, and specified that the bullets used 
 should be of the "dum-dum" variety. For they added to the 
 horrors of death. Such bullets had been prohibited by the 
 rules of modern warfare, it was true. But this was a class 
 war. And Ames, foreseeing it all, had purchased a hundred 
 thousand rounds of these hellish things for the militia to ex- 
 change for those which the Government furnished. And then, 
 as an additional measure of precaution, he had sent Hood and 
 Collins into the United States District Court and persuaded the 
 sitting judge to issue an injunction, enjoining any possible re- 
 lief committees from furnishing food and shelter to such as 
 might enter the industrial conflict being waged against him. 
 
 Had the man gone mad? That he had! And in the blood- 
 red haze that hung before his glittering eyes was framed the 
 face of the girl who had spurned him but a few days before. 
 She was the embodiment of love that had crossed his path and 
 stirred up the very quintessence of evil within him. From the 
 first she had drawn him. From the first she had aroused with- 
 in his soul a conflict of emotions such as he had never known 
 before. And from the night when, in the Hawley-Crowles box 
 at the opera he had held her hand and looked down into her 
 fathomless eyes, he had been tortured with the conflicting de- 
 sires to possess that fair creature, or to utterly destroy her. 
 
 But always she had eluded him. Always she hovered just 
 within his grasp; and then drew back as his itching fingers 
 closed. Always she told him she loved him — and he knew she 
 lied not. But such lOve was not his kind. When he loved, he 
 possessed and used. And such love had its price — ^but not 
 hers. And so hope strove with wrath, and chagrin with de- 
 spair. She was a babe! Yet she conquered him. He was 
 omnipotent in this world! Her strength she drew from the 
 world invisible. And with it she had laid the giant low and 
 bound him with chains. 
 
 212 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 Not so ! Though he knew now that she was lost to him for- 
 ever; though with foul curses he had seen hope flee; yet with 
 it he had also bidden every tender sentiment, every last vestige 
 of good depart from his thought forever more. And: 
 
 " with hope, farewell fear, 
 
 Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost; 
 Evil, be thou my good!" 
 
 That same night Hitt's wells burned. And that night the 
 master slept not, but sat alone at his desk in the great Fifth 
 Avenue mansion, and plotted the annihilation of every human 
 being who had dared oppose his worldly ambitions. Plotted, 
 too, the further degradation and final ruin of the girl who had 
 dared to say she loved him, and yet would not become his toy. 
 • ♦♦»»♦ 
 
 There is no need to curse the iniquitous industrial and 
 social system upon which the unstable fabric of our civilization 
 rests, for that system is its own fell curse in the rotting fruit it 
 bears. A bit of that poisonous fruit had now dropped from 
 the slimy branch at Avon. Up from the yards came the militia- 
 men at double-quick, with rifles uiislung and loaded with the 
 Satanic Ames bullets. Behind them they dragged two machine 
 gUns, capable of discharging three hundred times a minute. 
 The mob had concentrated upon the central building of the mill 
 group, and had just gained entrance through its shattered 
 doors. Before them the guards were falling slowly back, flght^ 
 ing every inch of the way. The dead lay in heaps. The air 
 was thick with powder smoke. One end of the building was in 
 flames. The roar of battle was deafening. 
 
 Quickly swinging into action, the militia opened upon the 
 mill hands. H«mmed in between two fires, the mob broke and 
 fled down the frozen stream. The officers of the guard then 
 ordered their men to join in the work of extinguishing the 
 flames, which were beginning to make headway, fanned by the 
 strong draft which swept through the long building. Until 
 dawn they fought the stubborn fire. Then, the building saved, 
 they pitched their tents and sought a brief rest. 
 
 At noon the soldiers were again assembled, for there re- 
 mained the task of arresting the leaders of the mob and bring- 
 ing them to justice. The town had been placed under martial 
 law with the arrival of the militia. Its streets were patrolled by 
 armed guards, and a strong cordon had been thrown around 
 the shacks which the mill hands had hastily erected the after- 
 noon before. And now, under the protection of a detachment 
 of soldiers, the demand was made for the unconditional sur- 
 render of the striking laborers. 
 
 Dull terror lay like a pall over the miserable shacks huddled 
 
 213 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 along the dead stream. It was the dull, hopeless, numbing ter- 
 ror of the victim who awaits the blow from the lion's paw in 
 the arena. Weeping wives and mothers, clasping their little 
 ones to them, knelt upon the frozen ground and crossed them- 
 selves. Young men drew their newly-wed mates to their breasts 
 and kissed them with trembling lips. Stern, hard-faced men, 
 with great, knotted hands, grouped together and looked out in 
 deadly hatred at the heartless force surrounding them. 
 
 Then out from among them and across the ice went Carmen, 
 up the slippery hillside, and straight to the multi-mouthed 
 machine gun, at the side of which stood Major Camp. She had 
 been all night with these bewildered, maddened people. She 
 had warmed shivering babes at her own breast. She had com- 
 forted widows of a night, and newly-bereaved mothers. She 
 had bound up gaping wounds, and had whispered tender words 
 of counsel and advice. And they had clung to her weeping; 
 they had called upon Virgin and Saint to bless her; and they 
 named her the Angel of Avon — and the name would leave her 
 no more. 
 
 "Take me," she said, "take me into court, and let me tell 
 all." 
 
 The major fell back in amazement. This beautiful, well- 
 clad girl among such miserable vermin! 
 
 "You have demanded their leaders," she continued. "I have 
 been trying to lead them. Leave them, and take me." 
 
 The major's eyes roved over her face and figure. He could 
 make nothing out of her words, but he motioned to an aid, 
 and bade him place the girl under arrest. 
 
 A wild shout then rose from the shacks, as Carmen moved 
 quietly away under guard. It was the last roar of raging de- 
 spair. The girl was being taken from them! A dozen men 
 sprang out and rushed, muskets in hand, up toward the soldiers 
 to liberate her. The major called to them to halt. Poor, dull- 
 witted creatures! Their narrow vision could comprehend but 
 one thing at a time; and they saw iii the arrest of the girl only 
 an additional insult piled upon their already mountainous in- 
 juries. 
 
 The major shouted a command. A roar burst from the 
 soldiers' rifles. It was answered by a shriek of rage from the 
 hovels, and a murderous return fire. Then the major gave an- 
 other loud command, and the machine guns began to vomit 
 forth their clattering message of death. 
 
 At the sound of shooting, Carmen's guard halted. Then one 
 of them fell, pierced by a bullet from the strikers. The others 
 released the girl, and hurried back to the battle line. Carmen 
 stood alone for a moment. Bullets whizzed close about her. 
 
 214 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 One sang its death-song almost in her ear. Another tore 
 through her coat. Then she turned and made her way slowly 
 up the hill to the paralyzed town. 
 
 Down in the vale beneath. Death swung his scythe with long, 
 sweeping strokes. The two machine guns poured a flaming 
 sheet of lead into the little camp below. The shacks fell like 
 houses of cards. The tents caught fire, and were whirled blaz- 
 ing aloft by the brisk wind. Men dropped like chaff from a 
 mill. Hysterical, screaming women rushed hither and yon to 
 save their young, and were torn to shreds by the merciless 
 fusillade from above. Babes stood for a moment bewildered, 
 and then sank with great, gaping wounds in their little, quiver- 
 ing bodies. And over all brooded the spirit of the great ma- 
 nipulator, Ames, for the protection of whose sacred rights such 
 ghastly work is done among civilized men to-day. 
 
 ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ - » ♦ 
 
 That night, while the stars above Avon drew a veil of gray 
 between them and the earth below, that they might not see the 
 red embers and stark bodies, Carmen came slowly, and with 
 bent head, into the ofQce of the Express. As she approached 
 Hitt's door she heard him in earnest conversation with Hay- 
 nerd. 
 
 "Yes," the editor was saying, "I had a mortgage placed on 
 the Express to-day, but I couldn't get much. And it's a shortr 
 term one, at that. Stolz refused point blank to help us, unless 
 we would let him dictate the policy of the paper. No, he 
 wouldn't buy outright. He's still fighting Ames for control of 
 C. and R. And I learn, too, that the Ketchim case is called for 
 next week. That probably means an attempt by Ames to smoke 
 Stolz out through Ketchim. It also means that Carmen — " 
 
 "Yes; what about her?" 
 
 "That she will be forced to go upon the stand as a wit- 
 ness." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "And that, as I read it, means a further effort on Ames's 
 part to utterly discredit her in the eyes of the world, and us 
 through her association with the Express." 
 
 "But — ^where is she, Hitt? No word from her since we got 
 the news of the massacre at Avon this afternoon! Nothing 
 happened to her, do you think?" 
 
 Hitt's face was serious, and he did not answer. Then Car- 
 men herself came through the open door. Both men rose with 
 exclamations of gladness to welcome her. The girl's eyes were 
 wet, and her wonted smile had gone. 
 
 "Mr. Hitt," she said, "I want a thousand dollars to-night." 
 
 "Well!" Hitt and Haynerd both sat down hard. 
 
 215 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "I must go back to Avon to-morrow," she announced. 
 "And the money is for the — the people down there." Her 
 voice caught, and her words stumbled. 
 
 The two men looked at each other blankly. Then Hitt 
 reached out and took her hand. "Tell us," he said, "about the 
 trouble there to-day." 
 
 Carmen shook her head. "No," she said, "we will not talk 
 about evil. You — you have the money? A thousand — " 
 
 "I have that much on deposit in the bank now, Carmen," 
 he replied gravely. His thought was on the mortgage which he 
 had signed that morning. 
 
 "Then write me a check at once, and I will deposit it in the 
 Avon bank when I get there to-morrow. I must go home now 
 — to see mother." 
 
 "But — let me think about it. Carmen. Money is — ^well, 
 won't less than that amount do you?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Hitt. Write the check now." 
 
 Hitt sighed, but made no further protest. If the Express 
 must founder, then this money were well spent on the stricken 
 people of Avon. He took out his book, and immediately wrote 
 the check and handed it to the girl. 
 
 "Hitt," said Haynerd, after Carmen had left them and he 
 had exhausted his protests over the size of the check, "some- 
 thing's killing that girl ! And it isn't only the trouble at Avon, 
 either! What is it? I believe you know." 
 
 Hitt shook his head. "She's no longer in this world, Ned. 
 She left it two days ago." 
 
 "Eh? Say! News about that Rincon fellow?" 
 
 But Hitt would say nothing to further illuminate his cryptic 
 remark, and Haynerd soon switched to the grim topic of the 
 industrial war in progress at Avon. 
 
 "What are we coming to?" he cried. "What's going to be 
 the end? A social and industrial system such as ours, which 
 leaves the masses to starve and consume with disease under 
 intolerable burdens, that a handful may rot in idleness and 
 luxury, marks us in this latest century as hopelessly insane!" 
 
 "Well, Ned, whence came the idea, think you, that it is 
 divine justice for a majority of the people on earth to be poor 
 in order that a few may be rich? And how are we going to get 
 that perverted idea out of the minds of men? Will legislation 
 do it?" 
 
 "Humph!" grunted Haynerd. "Legislation arouses no faith 
 in me ! We are suffering here because, in our immensely selfish 
 thought of ourselves only, we have permitted the growth of 
 such men as Ames, and allowed them to monopolize the coun- 
 try's resources. Heavens ! Future generations will laugh them- 
 
 216 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 selves sick over us! Why, what sane excuse is there for per- 
 mitting the commonest necessities of life to be juggled with 
 by gamblers and unmoral men of wealth? How can we ask to 
 be considered rational when we, with open eyes, allow 'corners' 
 on foodstuffs, and permit 'wheat kings' to amass millions by 
 corralling the supply of grain and then raising the price to 
 the point where the poor washerwoman starves? Lord! We 
 are a nation gone mad ! The existence of poverty in a country 
 like America is not only proof positive that our social system 
 is rotten to the core, but that our religion is equally so! As a 
 people we deserve to be incarcerated in asylums!" 
 
 "A considerable peroration, Ned," smiled Hitt. "And yet, 
 one that I can not refute. The only hope I see is in a radical 
 change in the mental attitude of the so-called enlightened class 
 — and yet they are the very worst offenders!" 
 
 "Sure! Doesn't the militia exist for men like Ames? To- 
 day's work at Avon proves it, I think!" 
 
 "Apparently so, Ned," returned Hitt sadly. "And the only 
 possibility of a change in enlightened people is through a better 
 understanding of what is really good and worth while. That 
 means real, practical Christianity. And of that Ames knows 
 nothing." 
 
 "Seems to me, Hitt, that it ought to stagger our preachers to 
 realize that nineteen centuries of their brand of Christianity 
 have scarcely even begun to cleanse society. What do you 
 suppose Bdrwell thinks, anyway?" 
 
 "Ned, they still cling to human law as necessarily a com- 
 pelling influence in the shaping of mankind's moral nature." 
 
 "And go right on accepting the blood-stained money of 
 criminal business men who have had the misfortune to amass 
 a million dollars ! And, more, they actually hold such men up 
 as patterns for the youth to emulate! As if the chief end of 
 endeavor were to achieve the glorious manhood of an Ames! 
 And he a man who is deader than the corpses he made at Avon 
 to-day!" 
 
 "The world's ideal, my friend, has long been the man who 
 succeeds in everything except that which is worth while," re- 
 plied Hitt. "But we have been bidden to come out from the 
 world, and be separate. Is it not so?" 
 
 "Y — e — s, of course. But I can't take my thought from 
 Avon—" 
 
 "And thereby you emphasize your belief in the reality of 
 evil." 
 
 "Well— look at us! The Express stands for righteousness. 
 And now we are a dead duck!" 
 
 "Then, if that is so, why not resign your position, Ned? Go, 
 seek work elsewhere." 
 
 217 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "No, sir! Not while the -Express has a leg to stand on! 
 Your words are an offense to me, sir!" 
 
 Hitt-rose and clapped his friend heartily on the back. "Ned, 
 old man! You're a jewel! Things do look very dark for us, 
 if we look only with the human sense of vision. But we are 
 trying to look at the invisible things within. And there is only 
 perfection there. Come, we must get to work. The Express 
 still lives." 
 
 "But— Carmen?" 
 
 Hitt turned and faced him. "Ned, Carmen is not in our 
 hands. She is now completely with her God. We must hence- 
 forth wait on Him." 
 
 On the following afternoon at three a little group of Avon 
 mill hands crept past the guards and met in Father. Danny's 
 Mission, down in the segregated vice district. They met there 
 because they dared not go through the town to the Hall. Father 
 Danny was with them. He had slipped into town the preceding 
 night, and remained in hiding through the day. And Carmen 
 was with them, too. She had gone first to the Hall, and then to 
 the Mission, when she arrived again in the little town. And 
 after she had deposited Hitt's check in the bank she had asked 
 Father Danny to call together some of the older and more in- 
 telligent of the mill hands, to discuss methods of disbursing the 
 money. 
 
 Almost coincident with her arrival had come an 'order from 
 Ames to apprehend the girl as a disturber of the peace. The 
 hush of death lay over Avon, and even the soldiers now stood 
 aghast at their own bloody work of the day before. Carmen had 
 avoided the main thoroughfares, and had made her way un- 
 recognized. At a distance she saw the town jail, heavily 
 guarded. Its capacity had been sorely taxed, and many of the 
 prisoners had been crowded into cold, cheerless store rooms, 
 and placed under guards who stood ready to mow them down 
 at the slightest threatening gesture. 
 
 "It's come, Miss Carmen!" whispered Father Danny, after 
 he had quietly greeted the girl. "It's come! It may be the 
 beginning of the great revolution we've all known wasn't far 
 off! I just had to get back here! They can only arrest me, 
 anyway. And, oh, God! my poor, poor people!" 
 
 He sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. But 
 soon he sprang to his feet. "No time for mollycoddling!" he 
 exclaimed. "Come, men, we'll give you Checks, and do you get 
 food for the babies. Only, don't buy of the company stores!" 
 
 "We'll have to. Father," said one of them. "It's dangerous 
 not to." 
 
 218 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "But they've never taken cash from you there, ye know. 
 Only your pay scrip." 
 
 "Aye, Father, and they've discounted that ten per cent each 
 time. But if we bought at other stores we were discharged. 
 And now we'd be blacklisted." 
 
 "Ah, God, that's true!" exclaimed the priest. "But now 
 then. Miss Carmen, we'll begin." 
 
 For an hour the girl wrote small checks, and the priest 
 handed them out to the eager laborers. They worked fever- 
 ishly, for they knew that at any moment they might be appre- 
 hended. 
 
 "Ah, you men!" cried Father Danny, at last unable to re- 
 strain himself. "Did ye but know that this grand nation is 
 wholly dependent on such as you, its common people ! Not on 
 the rich, I say, the handful that own its mills and mines, but 
 on you who work them for your rich masters ! But then, ye're 
 so ignorant!" 
 
 "Don't, Father!" pleaded Carmen, "don't! They have suf- 
 fered so much!" 
 
 "Ah, lass, it's but love that I'm dealin' out to 'em, God 
 knows! And yet, it's they that are masters of the situation, 
 only they don't know it! There's the pity! They've no leaders, 
 except such as waste their money and leave 'em in the ditch! 
 The world's social schemes. Miss Carmen, don't reach such as 
 these. They're only sops. And they've got the contempt of 
 the wage-earners." 
 
 "The Church, Father, could do much for these people, if — " 
 
 "Don't hesitate. Miss Carmen. You mean, if we didn't give 
 all our thought to the rich, eh? But still, it's wholly up to the 
 people themselves, after all. And, mark me, when they do rise, 
 why, such men as Ames won't know what's hit 'em!" 
 
 The door was thrown violently open at that moment, and a 
 squad of soldiers under the command of a lieutenant entered. 
 
 Carmen and Father Danny rose and faced them. The mill 
 hands stood like stone images, their faces black with sup- 
 pressed rage. The lieutenant halted his men, and then ad- 
 vanced to the girl. 
 
 "Is a woman named Carmen Ariza here?" he demanded 
 rudely. 
 
 "I am she," replied the fearless girl. 
 
 "Come with us," he said in a rough voice. 
 
 "That she will not!" cried Father Danny, suddenly pulling 
 the girl back and thrusting himself before her. 
 
 The lieutenant raised his hand. The soldiers advanced. 
 The mill hands quickly formed about the girl. And then, with 
 a yell of rage, they threw themselves upon the soldiers. 
 
 219 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 For a few minutes the little room was a bedlam. The 
 crazed strikers fought without weapons, except such as they 
 could wrest from the soldiers. But they fought to the death. 
 One of them seized Carmen and threw her beneath the table at 
 which she had been working. Above her raged the desperate 
 conflict. The shouting and cursing might have been heard for 
 blocks around. Father Danny stood in front of the table, be- 
 neath which lay the girl. He strove desperately to maintain 
 his position, that he might protect her, meantime frantically 
 calling to the mill hands to drag her out to the rear, and escape 
 by the Back door. 
 
 In the midst of the milee a soldier mounted a chair near 
 the door and raised his rifle. The shot roared out, and Father 
 Danny pitchfed forward to the floor. Another shot, and still 
 another followed in quick succession. The strikers fell back. 
 Confusion seized them. Then they turned and fled precipitately 
 through the rear exit. 
 
 ' The lieutenant dragged Carmen from beneath the table and 
 out through the door. Then, assembling his men, he gave an 
 order, and they marched away with her up the icy street to 
 
 the town jail. 
 
 CHAPTER 16 
 
 WITH the wreckage which he had wrought strewn about 
 him, J. Wilton Ames sat at his rich desk far above the 
 scampering human ants in the streets below and con- 
 templated the fell work of his own hands. And often and 
 anon as he looked, great beads of perspiration welled out upon 
 his forehead, and his breath came hot and dry. In the waste 
 basket at his feet lay crumpled the newspapers with their 
 shrieking, red-lettered versions of the slaughter at Avon. He 
 was not a coward, this man! But he had pushed that basket 
 around the desk out of his sight, for when he looked at it 
 something rose before him that sent a chill to his very soul. 
 At times his vision blurred; and then he passed his hands 
 heavily across his eyes. He had chanced to read in the grew- 
 some accounts of the Avon massacre that little children had 
 been found among those fallen shacks, writhing in their last 
 agonies. And the reports had said that great, red-dripping 
 holes had been ripped in their thin little bodies by those awful 
 "dum-dum" bullets. God! Why had he used them? And why 
 had the demoniac soldiers down there blown the brains from 
 harmless women and helpless babes? He really had not in- 
 tended to go so far ! 
 
 220 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 And yet, he had! Curse them! The brats would have 
 grown up to oppose the vested privileges of the rich ! They, too, 
 would have become anarchists and rioters, bent on leveling the 
 huge industrial fabric which such as he had so laboriously 
 erected under the legal protection afforded their sacred rights! 
 He had done well to remove them now ! And the great captains 
 of industry would thank him for the example he had thus 
 fearlessly set! 
 
 To think of Avon was for him now to think in terms of 
 blood. And yet his carnal soul hourly wrestled sore with 
 thoughts of a wholly different stamp; with those strange 
 emotions which he had felt when in Carmen's presence; with 
 those unfamiliar sentiments which, had he not fought them 
 back so bitterly, might have made him anew, and — 
 
 But the remeuibrance maddened him. His face grew black, 
 and his mouth poured forth a torrent of foul imprecations and 
 threats upon her and upon those who stood with her. His rage 
 towered again. He smote the desk with his great fist. He 
 fumed, he frothed, he hurled reason from its throne, and bade 
 the Furies again become his counselors. 
 
 Upon the desk before him lay the mortgage papers which 
 Hitt had signed. He had bought the mortgage from the bank 
 which had loaned the Express the money. He would crusli 
 that sheet now, crush it until the ink dripped black from its 
 emasculated pages ! And when it fell into his hands, he would 
 turn it into the yellowest of sensational journals, and hoot 
 the memory of its present staff from ocean to ocean! 
 
 Then, his head sunk upon his breast, he fell to wondering 
 if he might not secure a mortgage upon the Beaubien cottage, 
 and turn its occupants into the street. Ah, what a power was 
 money!. It was the lever by which he moved the world, and 
 clubbed its dull-witted inhabitants into servile obeisance ! Who 
 could stand against him — 
 
 That girl! 
 
 He sprang to his feet and called Hood. That obedient lackey 
 hastened into his master's presence. 
 
 "The Ketchim trial?" snarled Ames. 
 
 "Called for this week, sir," replied Hood, glad that the an- 
 nouncement could not possibly offend his superior. 
 
 "Humph! The— that girl?" 
 
 "Brought up from Avon, and lodged in the Tombs, sir." 
 
 "You tell Judge Spencer that if he allows her bail I'll see 
 that his federal appointment is killed, understand?" 
 
 "You may rely upon him, sir." 
 
 Ames regarded the man with a mixture of admiration and 
 utter contempt. For Hood stood before him a resplendent ex- 
 
 221 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ample of the influence of the most subtle of all poisons, the in- 
 sidious lure of money. Soul and body he had prostituted him- 
 self and his undoubted talents to it. And now, were he to be 
 turned adrift by Ames, the man must inevitably sink into obliv- 
 ion, squeezed dry of every element of genuine manhood, and 
 weighted with the unclean lucre for which his bony fingers 
 had always itched. 
 
 "Will Cass defend Ketchim?" the master asked. 
 
 "Oh, doubtless. He knows most about the formation of the 
 defunct Simiti company." 
 
 "Well, see him and — you say he's young, and got a wife and 
 baby? Offer him twenty-five thousand to quit the case." 
 
 "I'm afraid it wouldn't do, sir," returned Hood, shaking his 
 head dubiously. "I've had men talking with him regarding the 
 trial, and he — " 
 
 "Then get him over here. I'll see if I can't persuade him," 
 growled Ames in an ugly tone. 
 
 Hood bowed and went out. A few minutes later Rev- 
 erend Darius Borwell was ushered into the financier's private 
 office. 
 
 "Mr. Ames," cried that gentleman of the cloth, "it's shock- 
 ing, terribly so, what those unbridled, unprincipled mill hands 
 have drawn upon themselves down in Avon! Goodness! And 
 four members of the Church of the Social Revolution came to 
 my study last evening and demanded that I let them speak to 
 my congregation on the coming Sabbath!" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Why, I told them certainly not! My church is God's 
 house! And I shall have policemen stationed at the doors 
 next Sunday to maintain order! To think that it has come to 
 this in Ahierica! But, Mr. Ames, is your house guarded? I 
 would advise — " 
 
 "Nobody can get within a block of my house, sir, without 
 ringing a series of electric bells," replied Ames evenly. "I have 
 fifty guards and private detectives in attendance in and about 
 my premises all the time. My limousine has been lined with 
 sheet steel. And my every step is protected. I am not afraid 
 for my life. I simply want to keep going until I can carry out 
 a few plans I have in hand." His thought had reverted again 
 to the fair girl in the Tombs. 
 
 "But now, Borwell," he continued, "I want to talk with you 
 about another matter. I am drawing up my will, and — " 
 
 "Why, my dear Mr. Ames ! You are not ill?" 
 
 Ames thought of his physician's constantly iterated warn- 
 ing; but shook his head. "I may get caught in this Avon af- 
 fair," he said evasively. "And I want to be prepared. The 
 
 222 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 President has sent his message to Congress, as you may be 
 aware. There are unpleasant suggestions in it regarding dis- 
 possession in cases like my own. I'm coming back by magnan- 
 imously willing to Congress a hundred millions, to stand as a 
 fund for social uplift." 
 
 "Ah!" sighed the clergyinan. Great was Mammon! 
 
 "But the little matter I wish to discuss with you is the sum 
 that I am setting aside for the erection of a new church edifice," 
 continued Ames, eying the minister narrowly. 
 
 "You don't mean it!" cried that worthy gentleman, spring- 
 ing up and clasping the financier's hand. "Mr. Ames! So 
 magnanimous! Ah— the amount?" 
 
 "Well, will half a million do?" suggested Ames. 
 
 The minister reflected a moment. One should not be too 
 precipitate in accepting tentative benefactions. "Ah — we 
 really should have — ah— a trifle more, Mr. Ames. There's the 
 settlement home, and the commons, you know, and — " 
 
 "Humph! Well, we'll start with half a million," replied 
 Ames dryly. "By the way, you know Jurges, eh? Reverend 
 William Jurges? Er — have you any particular influence with 
 him, if I may ask?" His sharp eyes bored straight through the 
 wondering divine. 
 
 "Why — ^yes — ^yes, I know the gentleman. And, as for in- 
 fluence — ^well, I may—" 
 
 "Yes, just so," put in Ames. "Now there is a trial coming 
 up this week, and Jurges will be called to the stand. I want 
 you to give him the true facts in regard to it. I'll call Hood,' 
 and we'll go over them in detail now. Then you see Jurges 
 this afternoon, and — say, he's raising a building fund too, isn't 
 he?" 
 
 The magnate summoned Hood a'^ain; and for an hour the 
 trio discussed the forthcoming trial of the unfortunate Philip 
 O. Ketchim. Then Ames dismissed the clergyman, and bade 
 his office boy admit the young lawyer, Cass, who had come in 
 response to Hood's request. 
 
 For some moments after Cass entered the office Ames stood 
 regarding him, studying what manner of man he was, and how 
 best to approach him. Then he opened the conversation by a 
 casual reference to the unsatisfactory business situation which 
 obtained throughout the country, and expressed wonder that 
 young men just starting in their professions managed to make 
 ends meet. 
 
 "But," he concluded with deep significance, "better go hun- 
 gry than take on any class of business which, though promising 
 good money returns, nevertheless might eventually prove suici- 
 dal." He looked hard at the young lawyer when he paused. 
 
 223 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "I quite agree with you, Mr. Ames," returned Cass. "But as 
 I am particularly busy this morning, may I ask why you have 
 sent for me? Have you anything that I can — " 
 
 "I have," abruptly interrupted the financier. "We need ad- 
 ditions to our legal staff. I thought perhaps you might like to 
 talk over the matter with me, with a view to entering our em- 
 ploy." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Ames, I — I have never thought of — " The young 
 man's eyes glistened. 
 
 "Well, suppose you think of it now," said Ames, smiling 
 graciously. "I have heard considerable about you of late, and 
 I must say I rather like the way you have been handling your 
 work." 
 
 Cass looked at him with rising wonder. The work which 
 he had been doing of late was most ordinary and routine, and 
 called for no display of legal skill whatever. Suspicions slowly 
 began to rise. 
 
 "I'd hate to see you tackle anything at this stage of your 
 career, Mr. Cass, that would bring discredit upon you. And I 
 am afraid your association with Ketchim is going to do just 
 that. But possibly you do not intend to handle further busi- 
 ness for him?" 
 
 Ketchim, though long confined in the Tombs, had at length 
 secured bail, through the not wholly disinterested efforts of his 
 uncle, Stolz, the sworn enemy of Ames. And, because of his 
 loyal efforts in behalf of Ketchim, Stolz had insisted that Cass 
 be retained as counsel for the latter when his trial should come 
 up. 
 
 "I'll tell you what I'll do, Mr. Cass," said Ames suddenly. 
 "Mr. Hood will take you on at a salary of, say, five thousand 
 to start with. We'll try you out for a few weeks. Then, if we 
 don't mutually fit, why, we'll quietly separate and say nothing. 
 How about it?" 
 
 Cass thought hard. Half of that salary would have looked 
 large to him then. But — 
 
 "May I ask," he slowly said in reply, "what class of work 
 Mr. Hood would give me to start with?" 
 
 "Why, nothing of great importance, perhaps, while you are 
 getting into the harness. Possibly court work, as a starter. 
 You've had experience in that, eh?" 
 
 Cass reflected again. The temptation was tremendous. 
 That little house which he had passed and stopped to look at 
 so wistfully every night on his way home was now within his 
 grasp. 
 
 He glanced up at the great man, sitting so calmly before 
 him. Then he thought suddenly of Avon. Then of Carmen. 
 
 224 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Mr. Ames," he said, "if I enter your employ, it must be with 
 the stipulation that I shall have nothing to do with the Ketchim 
 trial." 
 
 Ames's face went suddenly dark. "If you enter my employ, 
 sir, it will be with the stipulation that you do as I say," he 
 returned coldly. 
 
 And then the young lawyer saw through the mask. And 
 his anger flamed high at what he discerned behind it. He rose 
 and faced the great man. 
 
 "Mr, Ames," said he, "you have made a mistake. I am poor, 
 and I need business. But I have not as yet fallen so completely 
 under the spell of fortune-hunting as to sell my honor to a 
 man like you! To enter your employ, I now see, would mean 
 the total loss of character and self respect. It would mean a 
 lowering of my ideals, whatever they may be, to your own 
 vulgar standard. I may have done wrong in becoming asso- 
 ciated with Mr. Ketchim. In fact, I know that I have. But I 
 pledged myself to assist him. And yet, in doing so, I scarcely 
 can blacken my reputation to the extent that I should were I to 
 become your legal henchman. I want wealth. But there are 
 some terms upon which even I can not accept it. And your 
 terms are among them. I bid you good morning," 
 
 Ames gave a snort of anger when Cass went out. Summon- 
 ing Hood, he vented his great wrath upOn that individual's bald 
 pate. "And now," he concluded, "I want that fellow Cass so 
 wound up that he will sneak off to a lonely spot and commit 
 suicide! And if you can't do it, then I'll accept your resigna- 
 tion!" 
 
 "Very well, sir," replied Hood. "And, by the way, Mr. 
 Ames, I have just learned that Judge Harris, father of .the 
 young man who came up with that girl, is in Colombia. Seems 
 that he's taken some wealthy man down there to look at La 
 Libertad mine." 
 
 "What!" Ames's eyes snapped fire. 
 
 "They believe you put one over on Ketchim, with the help of 
 Monsignor Lafelle, and so they've gone down to get titles to 
 that mine." 
 
 "By G— " 
 
 "And they say that—" 
 
 "Never mind what they say !" roared Ames. "Cable Wences- 
 las at once to see that those fellows remain permanently in Co- 
 lombia. He has ways of accomplishing that. Humph! Fools! 
 Judge Harris, eh? Ninny! I guess Wenceslas can block his 
 little game!" 
 
 His great frame shook slightly as he stood consuming with 
 rage, and a slight hemorrhage started from his nostrils. He 
 
 60 225 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 turned to the lavatory. And as he walked, Hood thought his 
 
 left foot dragged slightly. But the lawyer made no comment, 
 
 ****** 
 
 And then, with the way well cleared, came the Ketchim 
 trial, which has gone down in history as containing the most 
 spectacular denoument in the record of legal procedure in the 
 New World. Had it been concerned, as was anticipated, only 
 with routine legal procedure against the man Ketchim, a weak- 
 souled coilipound of feeble sycophancy and low morals, it would 
 have attracted slight attention, and would have been spread 
 upon the court records by uninterested clerks with never a 
 second thought. But there were elements entering into it of 
 whose existence the outside world could not have even dreamed. 
 Into it converged threads which now may be traced back to 
 scenes and events in three continents; threads whose intricate 
 windings led through trackless forest and dim-lit church; 
 through court of fashion and hut of poverty; back through the 
 dark mazes of mortal thought, where no light shines upon the 
 carnal aims and aspirations of the human mind; back even to 
 the doors of a palace itself, even to the proudest throne of the 
 Old World. 
 
 But none of these elements found expression in the indict- 
 ment against the frightened defendant, the small- visioned man 
 who had sought to imitate the mighty Ames, and yet who 
 lacked sufficient intelligence of that sort which manifests in 
 such a perversion of skill and power. Ames was a tremendous 
 corruptionist, who stood beyond the laws simply because of 
 the elemental fact that he himself made those laws. Ketchim 
 was a plain deceiver. And his deception was religious fervor. 
 Mingling his theology with fraud, he employed the unholy 
 alliance for the purpose of exploiting the credulous who at- 
 tended his prayer meetings and commented with bated breath 
 upon his beautiful showing of religious zeal. He was but one 
 of a multitude afflicted with the "dollar mania." His mis- 
 fortune was- that his methods were so antique that they could 
 not long fail of detection. And it tvas because of his use of 
 the mails for the purpose of deceit that the indictment had 
 been drawn against Philip O. Ketchim et al. by the long-suffer- 
 ing, tolerant complainant, called the people. 
 
 Nominally the people's interests were in the hands of the 
 Public Prosecutor, a certain smug young worldling named 
 Ellis. But, as that gentleman owed his appointment to Ames, 
 it is not surprising that at his right hand sat Hood and his 
 well trained staff. Nominally, too. Judge Spencer conducted the 
 trial strictly upon its merits, not all of which lay with the peo- 
 ple. But the judge might have been still prosecuting petty cases 
 
 226 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 back in the unknown little district from which he came, had 
 it not been for the great influence of Anies, long since, who had 
 found him on a certain occasion useful. And so the jury panel 
 contained none but those who, we may be very sUre, were 
 amenable to the tender pressure of a soft hand lined with yellow 
 gold. And only those points of evidence were sustained which 
 conduced to the incrimination of the miserable defendant. 
 Ketchim was doomed before the trial began. 
 
 And yet, to subserve the dark schemes of Ames, and to 
 lengthen the period of torture to which his victims should be 
 subjected, the trial was dragged through many days. Besides, 
 even he and his hirelings were bound to observe the formalities. 
 
 It was at the suggestion of Cass that no effort had been 
 made to procure bail for Carmen after her arrest. The dramat- 
 ic may always be relied upon to carry a point which even plain 
 evidence negatives. And she, acquiescing in the suggestion, 
 remained a full two weeks in the Tombs before Ames's eager 
 counsel found their opportunity to confront her on the witness 
 stand and besmirch her with their black charges. The Beau- 
 bien was prostrated. But, knowing that for her another hour 
 of humiliation and sorrow had come, she strove mightily to 
 summon her strength for its advent. Father Waite toiled with 
 Cass day and night. Hitt and Haynerd, without financial re- 
 sources, pursued their way, grim and silent. The Express was 
 sinking beneath its mountainous load. And they stood at the 
 helm, stanch to their principles, not yielding an iota to offers 
 of assistance in exchange for a reversal of the policy upon 
 which the paper had been launched. 
 
 "We're going down, Hitt," said Haynerd grimly. "But we 
 go with the flag flying at the mast!" 
 
 Yet Hitt answered not. He was learning to know as did 
 Carmen, and to see with eyes which were invisible. 
 
 It was just when the jury had been impaneled, after long 
 days of petty wrangling and childish recrimination among the 
 opposing lawyers, that Stolz came to Anies and laid down his 
 sword. The control of C. and R. should pass unequivocally to 
 the latter if he would but save Ketchim from prison. 
 
 Then Ames lay back and roared with laughter over his 
 great triumph. C. and R ! Poof ! He would send Stolz' nephew 
 to prison, and then roll a bomb along Wall Street whose de- 
 tonation would startle the financial world clean out of its orbit! 
 Stolz had failed to notice that Ames's schemes had so signally 
 worked out that C. and R. was practically in his hands now! 
 The defeated railroad magnate at length backed out of the 
 Ames office purple with rage. And then he pledged himself to 
 hypothecate his entire fortune to the rescue of his worthless 
 nephew. 
 
 227 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Thus, in deep iniquity, was launched the famous trial, a 
 process of justice in name only, serving as an outlet for a single 
 man's long nurtured personal animosities. The adulterous 
 union of religion and business was only nominally before the 
 bar. The victims, not the defendant only, not the preachers, the 
 washerwomen, the factory girls, the widows, and the orphans, 
 whose life savings Ketchim had drawn into his net by the lure 
 of pious benedictions, but rather those unfortunates who had 
 chanced to incur the malicious hatred of the great, legalized 
 malefactor, Ames, by opposition to his selfish caprice, and 
 whose. utter defeat and discrediting before the public would 
 now place the crown of righteous expediency upon his own 
 chicanery and extortion and his wantonly murderous deeds. 
 
 The prosecution; scored from the beginning. Doctor Jurges, 
 utterly confused by the keen lawyers, and vainly endeavoring 
 to follow the dictates of his conscience, while attempting to 
 reconcile them with his many talks with Darius Borwell, gave 
 testimony which fell little short of incriminating himself. For 
 there were produced letters which he had written to members 
 of his congregation, and which for subtlety and deception, 
 though doubtless innocently done, would have made a sea- 
 soned promoter look sharp to his own laurels- 
 Then Harris was called. He had been summoned from 
 Denver for the trial. But his sputtering evidence gave no ad- 
 vantage to either side. And then- — crowning blunder ! — Cass 
 permitted Ketchim himself to take the stand. And the fright- 
 ened, trembling broker gave his own cause such a blow that 
 the prosecution might well have asked the judge to take the 
 case from the jury then and there. It was a legal faux pas; 
 and Cass walked the floor and moaned the whole night through. 
 
 Then, as per program, the prosecution called Madam Beau- 
 bien. Could not that sorrowing woman have given testimony 
 which would have aided the tottering defense, and unmasked 
 the evil genius which presided over this mock trial? Ah, yes, in 
 abundance! But not One point would the judge sustain when 
 it bordered upon forbidden territory. It was made plain to 
 her that she was there to testify against Ketchim, and to per- 
 mit the Ames lawyers to bandy her own name about the court 
 room upon the sharp points of their cruel cross-questions and 
 low insinuations,. 
 
 But, she protested, her knowledge of the Simiti company's 
 affairs had come through another person. 
 
 And who might that be? 
 
 Mr. J,. Wilton Ames. 
 
 Ah! But Mr. Ames should give his own testimony — for 
 was it not he who had, not long since, legally punished the 
 
 228 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 witness on a charge of defamation of character? The witness 
 was dismissed. And the spectators knew that it was because 
 the righteous prosecution could no longer stain its hands with 
 one who bore such a tarnished name as she. 
 
 And then, taunted and goaded to exasperation, the wronged 
 woman burst into tears and flayed the bigamist Ames there 
 before the court room crowded with eager society ladies and 
 curious, non-toiling men. Flayed him as men are seldom 
 flayed and excoriated by the women they trample. The bailiffs 
 seized her, and dragged her into an ante-room; the judge broke 
 his gavel rapping for order, and threatened to clear the court; 
 and then Cass, too young and inexperienced to avoid battle 
 with seasoned warriors, rose and demanded that Madam Beau- 
 bien be returned to the stand. 
 
 •The astonished judge hesitated. Cass stood his ground. He 
 turned to the people, as if seeking their support. A great mur- 
 mur arose through the court room. The judge looked down at 
 Ames. That man, sitting calm and unimpassioned, nodded his 
 head slightly. And the woman was led back to the chair. 
 
 "It may have an important bearing upon the case, Your 
 Honor!" cried the young lawyer for the defense. "Mr. Ames 
 is to take the stand as an important witness in this case. If 
 Madam Beaubien brings such a charge against him, it gives us 
 reason to believe his honor peccable, and his testimony open 
 to suspicion!" 
 
 It was a daring statement, and the whole room gasped, and 
 held its breath. 
 
 "I object. Your Honor!" shouted the chief prosecutor, Ellis. 
 "The lawyer for the defense is in contempt of court! Madam 
 Beaubien has been shown to be a — " 
 
 "The objection is sustained!" called the judge.. "The charge 
 is utterly irrelevant ! Order in the court!" 
 
 "His first wife's portrait — is in a glass window — in his 
 yacht!" cried the hysterical Beaubien. Then she crumpled up 
 in a limp mass, and was led from the chair half fainting. 
 
 At the woman's shrill words a white-haired man, dressed 
 in black, clerical garb, who had been sitting in the rear of the 
 room close to the door, rose hastily, then slowly sat down again. 
 At his feet reposed a satchel, bearing several foreign labels. 
 Evidently he had but just arrived from distant lands. 
 
 Consternation reigned throughout the room for a few min- 
 utes. Then Cass, believing that the psychological moment had 
 arrived, loudly called Carmen Ariza to the stand. The dramatic 
 play must be continued, now that it had begun. The battle 
 which had raged back and forth for long, weary days, could be 
 won, if at all, otnly by playing upon the emotions of the jury^ 
 
 229 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 for the evidence thus far given had resulted in showing not 
 only the defense, but likewise the Beaubien, and all who had 
 been associated with the Simiti company, including Cass him- 
 self, to be participators in gross, intentional fraud. 
 
 The remaining witness, the girl herself, had been purposely 
 neglected by the prosecution, for the great Ames had planned 
 that she must be called by the defense. Then would he bring 
 up the prostitute, Jude, and from her wring testimony which 
 must blast forever the girl's already soiled name. Following 
 her, he would himself take the stand, and tell of the girl's visits 
 to his oflSce; of her protestations of love for him; of her em- 
 bracing him; and of a thousand indiscretions which he had 
 carefully garnered and stored for this triumphant occasion. 
 
 But the judge, visibly perturbed by the dramatic turn which 
 the case seemed to be taking, studied his watch for a moment, 
 then Ames's face, and then abruptly adjourned court until the 
 following day. Yet not until Cass had been recognized, and the 
 hounded girl summoned from her cell in the Tombs, to take the 
 stand in the morning for — her life ! 
 
 CHAPTER 17 
 
 IN the days to come, when the divine leaven which is in the 
 world to-day shall have brought more of the carnal mind's 
 iniquity to the surface, that the Sun of Truth may destroy 
 the foul germs, there shall be old men and women, and they 
 which, looking up from their work, peep and mutter of strange 
 things long gone, who shall fall wonderingly silent when they 
 have told again of the fair young girl who walked alone into 
 the crowded court room that cold winter's morning. And their 
 stories will vary with the telling, for no two might agree what 
 manner of being it was that came into their midst that day. 
 
 Even the bailiffs, as if moved by some strange prescience, 
 had fallen back and allowed her to enter alone. The buzz of 
 subdued chatter ceased, and a great silence came over all as 
 they looked. Some swore, in awed whispers, when the dramatic 
 day had ended, and judge and jury and wrangling lawyer had 
 silently, and with bowed heads, gone quiet and thoughtful each 
 to his home, that a nimbus encircled her beautiful head when 
 she came through the door and faced the gaping multitude. 
 Some said that her eyes were raised; that she saw not earthly 
 things; and that a heavenly presence moved beside her. Nor 
 may we lightly set aside these tales; for, after the curtain had 
 fallen upon the wonderful scene about to be enacted, there was 
 
 230 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 not one present who would deny that, as the girl came into the 
 great room and went directly to the witness chair, God himself 
 walked at her side and held her hand. 
 
 "Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be 
 thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whitherso- 
 ever thou goest." 
 
 Through the mind of that same white-haired man in the 
 clerical garb ran these words as he watched the girl move si- 
 lently across the room. She seemed to have taken on a new 
 meaning to him since the previous day. And as he looked, his 
 eyes grew moist, and he drew out his handkerchief. 
 
 But his were not the only eyes that had filled then. Hitt 
 and Haynerd bent their heads, that the people might not see; 
 Miss Wall and the Beaubien wept silently, and with no attempt 
 to stay their grief; Jude buried her head in her hands, and 
 rocked back and forth, moaning softly. Why they wept, they 
 knew not. A welter of conflicting emotions surged through 
 their harassed souls. They seemed to have come now to the 
 great crisis. And which way the tide would turn rested with 
 this lone girl. 
 
 For some moments after she was seated the silence re- 
 mained unbroken. And as she sat there, waiting, she looked 
 down at the man who sought to destroy what he might not pos- 
 sess. Some said afterward that as she looked at him she 
 smiled. Who knows but that the Christ himself smiled down 
 from the cross at those who had riven his great heart? 
 
 But Ames did not meet her glance. Somehow he dared not. 
 He was far from well that morning, and an ugly, murderous 
 mood possessed him. And yet, judged by the world's standards, 
 he had tipped the crest of success. He had conquered all. Men 
 came and went at his slightest nod. His coffers lay bursting 
 with their heavy treasure. He was swollen with wealth, with 
 material power, with abnormal pride- His tender sensibilities 
 and sympathies were happily completely ossified, and he was 
 stone deaf and blind to the agonies of a suffering world. Not 
 a single aim but had been realized; not a lone ambition but had 
 been met. Even the armed camp at Avon, and the little wooden 
 crosses over the fresh mounds there, all testified to his om- 
 nipotence; and in them, despite their horrors, he felt a satisfy- 
 ing sense of his own great might. 
 
 The clerk held up the Bible for the girl to give her oath. 
 She looked at him for a moment, and then smiled. "I will 
 tell the truth," she said simply. 
 
 The oflQcer hesitated, and looked up at the judge. But the 
 latter sat with his eyes fixed upon the girl. The clerk did not 
 press the point; and Carmen was delivered into the hands of 
 the lawyers. 
 
 231 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Cass hesitated. He knew not how to begin. Then, yielding 
 to a sudden impulse, he aslced the girl to mention briefly the 
 place of her birth, her parentage, and other statistical data, 
 leading up to her association with the defendant. 
 
 The story that followed was . simply given. It was but the 
 one she had told again and again. Yet the room hung on her 
 every word. And when she had concluded, Cass turned her 
 back again to Simiti, and to Rosendo's share in the mining 
 project which had ultimated in this suit. 
 
 A far-away look came into the girl's eyes as she spoke of 
 that great, black man who had taken her from desolate Badillo 
 into his Own warm heart. There were few dry eyes among the 
 spectators when she told of his selfless love. And when she 
 drew the portrait of him, standing alone in the cold mountain 
 water, far up in the jungle of Guamoco, bending over the laden 
 batea, and toiling day by day in those ghastly solitudes, that 
 she might be protected and educated and raised above her 
 primitive environment iti Simiti, there were sobs heard through- 
 out the room; and even the judge, hardened though he was by 
 conflict with the human mind, removed his glasses and loudly 
 cleared his throat as he wiped them. 
 
 Ames first grew weary as he listened, and then exasperated. 
 His lawyer at length rose to object to the recital on the ground 
 that it was largely irrelevant to the case. And the judge, pulling 
 himself together, sustained the objection. Cass sat down. Then 
 the prosecution eagerly took up the cross-examination. Ames's 
 hour had come. 
 
 "Boast not thyself of to-morrow; for thou knowest not 
 what a day may bring forth," murmured the white-haired man 
 in the clerical garb far back in the crowded room. Had he 
 learned the law of Truth to error, "Thou shalt surely die"? 
 Did he discern the vultures gnawing at the rich man's vitals? 
 Did he, too, know that this giant of privilege, so insolently 
 flaunting his fleeting power, his blood-stained wealth and his 
 mortal pride, might as well seek to dim the sun in heaven as to 
 escape the working of those infinite divine laws which shall ef- 
 fect the destruction of evil and the establishment of the kingdom 
 of heaven even here upon earth? 
 
 Ames leaned over to whisper to Hood. The latter drew 
 Ellis down and transmitted his master's instructions. The 
 atmosphere grew tense, and the hush of expectancy lay over 
 all. 
 
 "Miss Carmen," began Ellis easily, "your parentage has 
 been a matter of some dispute, if I mistake not, and-^" 
 
 Cass was on his feet to object. What had this question to 
 do with the issue? 
 
 232 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 But the judge overruled the objection. That was what he 
 was there for. Cass should have divined it by this time. 
 
 "H'm!" Ellis cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. 
 "And your father, it is said, was a negro priest. I believe that 
 has been accepted for some time. A certain Diego, if I recall 
 correctly." 
 
 "I never knew my earthly father," replied Carmen in a low 
 voice. 
 
 "But you have admitted that it might have been this Diego, 
 have you not?" 
 
 "It might have been," returned the girl, looking off absently 
 toward the high windows. 
 
 "Did he not claim you as his daughter?" pursued the lawyer. 
 
 "Yes," softly. 
 
 "Now," continued Ellis, "that being reasonably settled, is it 
 not also true that you used the claim of possessing this mine. 
 La Libertad, as a pretext for admission to society here in New 
 York?" , 
 
 The girl did not answer, but only smiled pityingly at him. 
 He, too, had bartered his soul; and in her heart there rose a 
 great sympathy for him in his awful mesmerism. 
 
 "And that you claimed to be an Inca princess?" went on 
 the merciless lawyer. 
 
 "Answer!" admonished the judge, looking severely down 
 upon the silent girl. 
 
 Carmen sighed, and drew her gaze away from the windows. 
 She was weary, oh, so weary of this unspeakable mockery. And 
 yet she was there to prove her God. 
 
 "I would like to ask this further question," Ellis resumed, 
 without waiting for her reply. "Were you not at one time in 
 a resort conducted by Madam Cazeau, down on — " 
 
 He stopped short. The girl's eyes were looking straight 
 into his, and they seemed to have pierced his soul. "I am 
 sorry for you," she said gently, "oh, so sorry ! Yes, I was once 
 in that place." 
 
 The man knew not whether to smile in triumph or hide his 
 head in shame. He turned to Hood. But Hood would not look 
 at him. Ames alone met his embarrassed glance, and sent 
 back a command to continue the attack. 
 
 Cass again rose and voiced his protest. What possible rela- 
 tion to the issue involved could such testimony have? But 
 the judge bade him sit down, as the counsel for the prosecution 
 doubtless was bringing out facts of greatest importance. 
 
 Ellis again cleared his throat and bent to his loathsome 
 task. "Now, Miss Ariza, in reference to your labors to incite 
 the mill hands at Avon to deeds of violence, the public con- 
 
 233 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 siders that as part of a consistent line of attack upon Mr. 
 Ames, in which you were aiding others from whom you took 
 your orders. May I ask you to cite the motives upon which you 
 acted?" 
 
 Cass sank back in abject despair. Ketchim was being for- 
 gotten ! 
 
 "We have not attacked Mr. Ames," she slowly replied, "but 
 only the things he stands for. But you wouldn't understand." 
 
 Ellis smiled superciliously. "A militant brand of social 
 uplift, I suppose?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Ellis, but just Christianity." 
 
 "H'm. And that is the sort of remedy that anarchists apply 
 to industrial troubles, is it not?" 
 
 "There is no remedy for industrial troubles but Christian- 
 ity," she said gently. "Not the burlesque Christianity of our 
 countless sects and churches; not Roman Catholicism; not 
 Protestantism; nor any of the fads and fancies of the human 
 mind; but just the Christianity of Jesus of Nazareth, vvho knew 
 that the human man was not God's image,. but only stood for 
 it in the mortal consciousness. And he always saw behind this 
 counterfeit the real man, the true likeness of God. And — " 
 
 "You are diverging from the subject proper and consuming 
 time, Miss Ariza!" interrupted the judge sternly. 
 
 Carmen did not heed him, but continued quietly : 
 
 "And it was just such a man that Jesus portrayed in his 
 daily walk and words." 
 
 "Miss Ariza!" again commanded the judge. 
 
 "No," the girl went calmly on, "Jesus did not stand for the 
 intolerance, the ignorance, the bigotry, the hatred, and the 
 human hypothesis, the fraud, and chicanery, and the 'Who 
 shall be greatest?' of human institutions. Nor did he make evil 
 a reality, as mortals do. He knew it seemed awfully real to the 
 deceived human consciousness; but he told that consciousness 
 to be not afraid. And then he went to work and drove out the 
 belief of evil on the basis of its nothingness and its total lack 
 of principle. The orthodox churches and sects of to-day do 
 not do that. Oh, no ! They strive for world dominion ! Their 
 kingdom is wholly temporal, and is upheld by heartless mil- 
 lionaires, and by warlike kings and emperors. Their tenets 
 shame the intelligence of thinking men! Yet they have slain 
 tens of millions to establish them!" 
 
 What could the Court do? To remove the girl meant de- 
 priving Ames of his prey. But if she remained upon the stand, 
 she would put them all to confusion, for they had no means of 
 silencing her. The judge looked blankly at Ames; his hands 
 were tied. 
 
 234 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Ellis hurried to change the current of her talk by interpos- 
 ing another question. 
 
 "Will you tell us, Miss Carmen, why you have been work- 
 ing—" 
 
 "I have been working for God," she interrupted. Her voice 
 was low and steady, and her eyes shone with a light that men 
 are not wont to see in those of their neighbors. "I have not 
 been working for men. He alone is my employer. And for 
 Him I am here to-day." 
 
 Consternation was plainly discernible in the camp of the 
 prosecution. Cass knew now that he need make no more ob- 
 jections. The defense had passed from his hands. 
 
 At this juncture James Ketchim, brother of the defendant, 
 thinking to relieve the strain and embarrassment, gave audible 
 voice to one of his wonted witticisms. All turned to look at 
 him. But the effect was not what he had anticipated. No one 
 laughed. 
 
 "Hold your tongue, Mr. Ketchim!" roared the exasperated 
 judge, bending far over his desk. "You are just a smart little 
 fool !" And the elder Ketchim retired in chagrin and confusion. 
 
 "Miss Carmen," pursued Ellis, eager to recover his advan- 
 tage, for he saw significant movements among the jury, "do 
 you not think the unfortunate results at Avon quite prove that 
 you have allied yourself with those who oppose the nation's 
 industrial progress?" 
 
 Carmen sat silent. Order had now been restored in the 
 court room, and Ellis was feeling sure of himself again. 
 
 "You have opposed the constructive development of our 
 country's resources by your assaults upon men of wealth, like 
 Mr. Ames, for example, have you not?" 
 
 Then the girl opened her mouth, and from it came words 
 that fell upon the room like masses of lead. "I stand opposed 
 to any man, Mr. Ellis, who, to enrich himself, and for the pur- 
 pose of revenge, spreads the boll weevil in the cotton fields of 
 the South." 
 
 Dull silence descended upon the place. And yet it was a 
 silence that fell crashing upon Ames's straining ears. He sat 
 for a moment stunned; then sprang to his feet. All eyes were 
 turned upon hini. He held out a hand, and made as if to 
 speak; then sank again into his chair. 
 
 Ellis stood as if petrified. Then Hood rose and whispered to 
 him. Ellis collected himself, and turned to the judge. 
 
 "Your Honor, we regret to state that, from the replies which 
 Miss Ariza has given, we do not consider her mentally compe- 
 tent as a witness. We therefore dismiss her." 
 
 But Cass had leaped to the floor. "Your Honor!" he cried. 
 "I should like^to examine the witness further!" 
 
 235 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "She is dismissed!" returned the judge, glowering over his 
 spectacles at the young lawyer. 
 
 "I stand on—" 
 
 "Sit down!" the judge bellowed. 
 
 "Miss Carmen!" called Cass through the rising tumult, "the 
 lawyer for the prosecution has heaped insults upon you in his 
 low references to your parentage. Will you — " 
 
 The judge pounded upon his desk with the remnant of his 
 broken gavel. Then he summoned the bailiffs. 
 
 "I shall order the room cleared!" he called in a loud, 
 threatening voice. 
 
 The murmUr subsided. The judge s&t down and mopped his 
 stemming face. Hood and Ellis bent in whispered consultation. 
 Alnes was a study of wild, infuriated passion. Cass stood de- 
 fiantly before the bar. Carmen sat quietly facing the crowded 
 room. She had reached up and was fondling the little locket 
 which hung at her throat. It was the first time she had ever 
 worn it. It was not a pretty piece of jewelry; and it had never 
 occurred to her to wear it until that day. Nor would she have 
 thought of it then, had not the Beaubien brought it to the 
 Tombs the night before in a little box with some papers which 
 the girl had called for, Why she had put it on, she could not 
 say. 
 
 Slowly, while the silence continued unbroken, the girl drew 
 the slender chain around in front of her and unclasped it. 
 
 "I' — I never — knew my parents," she murmured musingly, 
 looking down lovingly at the little locket. Then she openpd it 
 and sat gazing, rapt and absorbed, at the two little portraits 
 within. "But there are their pictures," she suddenly an- 
 nounced, holding the locket out to Cass. 
 
 It was said afterward that never in the history of legal 
 procedure in New York had that court room held such dead 
 silence as when Cass stood bending over the faces of the girl's 
 earthly parents, portrayed in the strange little locket which 
 Rosendo had taken from Badillo years before. Never had it 
 known such a tense moment; never had the very air itself 
 seemed so filled with a mighty, unseen presence, as on that 
 day and in that crisal hour. 
 
 Without speaking. Hood rose and looked over Cass's shoul- 
 der at the locket. A muffled cry escaped him, and he tui'ned 
 and stared at Ames. The judge bent shaking over his desk. 
 
 "Mr. Hood!" he exclaimed. "Have you ever seen those pic- 
 tures before?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied Hood in a voice that was scarcely heard. 
 
 "Where, sir?" 
 
 Hood seemed to have frozen to the spot. His hands shook, 
 and his words gibbered from his trembling lips. 
 
 236 
 
Carmen ariza 
 
 "The — the woman's portrait, sir — is — is — the one in — in 
 Mr. Ames's yacht!" 
 
 "My God!" 
 
 The piercing cry rang through the still room like a lost 
 soul's despairing wail. Ames had rushed from his seat, over- 
 turning his chair, thrusting the lawyers aside, and seized the 
 locket. For a moment he peered wildly into it. It seemed as 
 if his eyes would devour it, absorb it, push themselves clean 
 through it, in their eagerness to grasp its meariing. 
 
 Then he looked up. His eyes were red; his face ashen; his 
 lips white. His unsteady glance met the girl's. His mouth 
 opened, and flapped like a broken shutter in the wind. His 
 arms swung wildly upward; then dropped heavily. Suddenly 
 he bent to one side; caught himself; straightened up; and 
 then, with a horrifying, gurgling moan, crashed to the floor. 
 The noise of the tremendous fall reverberated through the 
 great room like an echo of Satan's plunge into the pit of hell. 
 
 Pandemonium broke upon the scene. Wild confusion seized 
 the excited spectators. They rushed forward in a mass, over 
 railings, over chairs and tables, heedless of all but the great 
 mystery that was slowly clearing away in the dim light that 
 winter's morning. Through them the white-haired man, clad 
 in clerical vestments, elbowed his way to the bar. 
 
 "Let me see the locket!" he cried, "Let me see it!" 
 
 He tore it from Hood's hand and scanned it eagerly. Then 
 he nodded his head. "The same! The very same!" he mur- 
 mured, trembling with excitement. Then, shouting to the 
 judge above the hubbub : 
 
 "Your Honor! I can throw some light upon this case!" 
 
 The crowd fell back. 
 
 "Who are you?" called the judge in a loud, quavering voice. 
 
 "I am Monsignor Lafelle. I have just returned from Europe. 
 The woman's portrait in this little locket is that of Dona 
 Dolores, Infanta, daughter of Queen Isabella the Second, of 
 Spain! And this girl," pointing to the bewildered Carmen, 
 who sat clinging to the arms of her chair, "is her child, and is 
 a princess of the royal blood ! Her father is the man who lies 
 there — J. Wilton Ames!" 
 
 237 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 18 
 
 BORNE on pulsing electric waves, the news of the great 
 dinoAment flashed over the city, and across a startled 
 continent. Beneath the seas it sped, and into court and 
 hovel. Madrid gasped; Seville panted ; and old Padre Rafael de 
 Rinc6n raised his hoary head and cackled shrilly. 
 
 To the seething court room came flying reporters and news 
 gatherers, who threw themselves despairingly against the closed 
 portals. Within, the bailifTs fought with the excited crowd, 
 and held the doors against the panic without. 
 
 Over the prostrate form of Ames the physicians worked with 
 feverish energy, but shook their heads. 
 
 In the adjoining ante-room, whither she had been half car- 
 ried, half dragged by Hitt when Ames fell, sat Carmen, clasped 
 in the Beaubien's arms, stunned, bewildered, and speechless. 
 Hitt stood guard at the door; and Miss Wall and Jude tiptoed 
 about with bated breath, unable to take their eyes from the girl. 
 
 In the court room without, Haynerd held the little locket, 
 and plied Monsignor Lafelle with his incoherent questions. 
 The excited editor's brain was afire; but of one thing he was 
 well assured, the Express would bring out an extra that night 
 that would scoop its rivals clean to the bone ! 
 
 In a few minutes the bailiffs fought the mob back from the 
 doors and admitted a man, a photographer, who had been sent 
 out to procure chemicals in the hope that the portrait of the 
 man in the locket might be cleaned. Ten minutes later the 
 features of J. Wilton Ames stood forth clearly beside those of 
 the wife of his youth. The picture showed him younger in ap- 
 pearance, to be sure, but the likeness was unmistakable. 
 
 "Lord! Lord! Monsignor, but you are slow! Come to the 
 point quickly! We must go to press within an hour!" wailed 
 Haynerd, shaking the churchman's arm in his excitement. 
 
 "But, what more?" cried Lafelle. "I saw the portrait in the 
 Royal Gallery, years ago, in Madrid. It impressed me. I 
 could not forget the sad, sweet face. I saw it again in the 
 stained-glass window in the Ames yacht. I became suspicious. 
 I inquired when I returned to Spain. There was much whisper- 
 ing, much shaking of headi^, but little information. But this I 
 know: the queen, the great Isabella, had a lover, a wonderful 
 tenor, Marfori, Marquis de Loja. And one day a babe was 
 taken quietly to a little cottage in the Granada hills. Rumor 
 said that it was an Infanta, and that the tenor was its father. 
 Who knew? One man, perhaps: old Rafael de Rinc6n. But 
 
 238 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Rome suddenly recalled him from Isabella's court, and after 
 that he was very quiet." 
 
 "But, Ames?" persisted Haynerd. 
 
 Lafelle shrugged his shoulders. "Mr. Ames," he said, "trav- 
 eled much in Europe. He went often to Spain. He bought a 
 vineyard in Granada^^the one from which he still procures his 
 wine. And there — ^who knows? — he met the Infanta. But 
 probably neither he nor she guessed her royal birth." 
 
 "Well! Good Lord! Then—?" 
 
 "Well, they eloped — who knows? Whether married or not, 
 I can not say. But it is evident she went with him to Colombia, 
 where, perhaps, he was seeking a concession from Congress in 
 Bogota. So far, so good. Then came the news of his father's 
 sudden death. He hastened out of the country. Possibly he 
 bade her wait for his return. But a prospective mother is often 
 excitable. She waited a day, a week — ^who knows how long? 
 And then she set out to follow him. Alas ! she was wild to do 
 such a thing. And it cost her life. She died at the little riverine 
 town of Badillo, after her babe. Carmen, was born. Is it not 
 plausible?" 
 
 "God above!" cried Haynerd. "And the girl's wonderful 
 voice?" 
 
 "A heritage from her grandfather, the tenor, Marfori," La- 
 felle suggested. 
 
 "But — the portraits — what is the name under that of Ames? 
 Guillermo? That is not his!" 
 
 "Yes, for Guillermo in Spanish is William. Doubtless Ames 
 told her his name was Will, contracted from Wilton, the name 
 he went by in his youth. And the nearest the Spanish could 
 come to it was Guillermo. Diego's name was Guillermo Diego 
 Polo. And after he had seen that name in the locket he used 
 it as a further means of strengthening his claim'upon the girl." 
 
 "Then^ — she is — a — princess I" 
 
 "Yes, doubtless, if my reasoning is correct. Not an Inca 
 princess, but a princess of the reigning house of Spain." 
 
 Haynerd could hold himself no longer, but rushed madly 
 from the room and tore across town to the oflBce of the Express. 
 
 Then came the white-enameled ambulance, dashing and 
 careening to the doors of the building where Ames lay so quiet. 
 Gently, silently, the great body was lifted and borne below. 
 And then the chattering, gesticulating mob poured from the 
 court room, from the halls and corridors, and out into the chill 
 sunlight of the streets, where they formed anew into little 
 groups, and went over again the dramatic events but a few 
 minutes past. 
 
 Then, too, emerged Carmen, heavily veiled from the curious. 
 
 239 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 vulgar gaze of the rabble, and entered the waiting limousine, 
 ■with the Beaubien and Hitt. Miss Wall and the gasping Jude 
 followed in another. The judge had bidden the girl go on her 
 own recognizance. The arrest at Avon; the matter of bail; 
 all had merged into the excitement of the hour and been for- 
 gotten. Ketchim went out on Cass's arm. The judge had or- 
 dered the clerk to enter an adjournment. 
 
 « • » ♦ ■* ♦ ♦ 
 
 All that afternoon and far into the night a gaping, wonder- 
 ing concourse braved the cold and stood about the walk that 
 led up to the little Beaubien cottage. Within, the curtains were 
 drawn, and Sidney, Jude, and Miss Wall answered the calls 
 that came incessantly over the telephone and to the doors. Sid- 
 ney had not been in the court room, for Haynerd had left him 
 at the editor's desk in his own absence. But with the return of 
 Haynerd the lad had hurried into a taxicab and commanded 
 the chauffeur to drive madly to the Beaubien home. And once 
 through the door, he clasped the beautiful girl in his arms and 
 strained her to his breast. 
 
 "My sister!" he cried. "My own, my very own little sister! 
 We only pretended before, didn't we? But now — now, oh, God 
 above! you really are my sister!" 
 
 The scarce comprehending girl drew his head down and 
 kissed him. "Sidney," she murmured, ^'the ways of God are 
 past finding out!" 
 
 Aye, for again, as of old. He had chosen the foolish things 
 of the world to confound the wise; He had chosen the weak to 
 confound the mighty; and the base things, and the things de- 
 spised, had He used to bring to naught the things that are. 
 And why? That no flesh might glory in His terrible presence! 
 
 "Carmen!" cried the excited boy. "Think what this means 
 to our book!" 
 
 The girl smiled up at him; then turned away. "My father!" 
 she murmured. "He — my father!" she kept repeating, groping 
 her way about the room as if in a haze. "He! It can't be! 
 It can't!" 
 
 The still dazed Beaubien drew the girl into her arms. "My 
 little princess!" she whispered. "Oh! . But who would have 
 dreamed it! Yet I called you that from the very first. But— 
 oh. Carmen! And he — that man— your father!" 
 
 "Don't! Mother, don't! It— it isn't proved. It—" 
 
 Then the Beaubien's heart almost stopped. What if it were 
 true? What, then, would this sudden turn in the girl's life 
 mean to the lone woman who clung to her so? 
 
 "No, mother dearest," whispered Carmen, looking up 
 through her tears. "For even if it should be true, I will not 
 leave you. He — ^he — " 
 
 240 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 She stopped; and -would speak of him no more. 
 
 But neither of them knew as yet that in that marvelous 
 Pifth Avenue palace, behind those drawn curtains and guarded 
 bronze doors, at which an eager crowd stood staring, Ames, 
 the superman, lay dying, his left side, from the shoulder down, 
 paralyzed. 
 
 In the holy quiet of the first hours of morning, the mist 
 rose, and the fallen man roused slowly out of his deep stupor. 
 And then through the dim-lit halls of the great mansion rang 
 a piercing cry. For when he awoke, the curtain stood raised 
 upon his life; and the sight of its ghastly content struck wild 
 terror to his naked soul. 
 
 He had dreamed as he lay there, dreamed while the mist 
 was rising. He thought he had been toiling with feverish energy 
 through those black hours, building a wall about the things 
 that were his. And into the design of the huge structure he 
 had fitted the trophies of his conquest. Gannette toiled with 
 him, straining, sweating, groaning. Together they reared that 
 monstrous wall; and as they labored, the man plotted the death 
 of his companion when the work should be done, lest he ask 
 for pay. And into the corners of the wall they fitted little 
 skulls. These were the children of Avon who had never played. 
 And over the great stones which they heaved into place they 
 sketched red dollar-marks; and their paint was human blood. 
 A soft wind swept over the rising structure, and it bore a gentle 
 voice: "I am Love." But the toilers looked up and cursed. 
 "Let us alone!" they cried. "Love is weakness!" And over 
 the rim of the wall looked fair faces. "We are Truth, we are. 
 Life!" But the men frothed with fury, and hurled skulls at 
 the faces, and bade them begone! A youth and a tender girl 
 looked down at the sweating toilers. "We ask help; we are 
 young, and times are so hard!" But the great man pointed to 
 himself. "Look at me!" he cried. "I need no help ! Begone!" 
 And then the darkness settled down, for the wall was now sa 
 high that it shut out the sun. And the great man howled with 
 laughter; the wall was done. So he turned and smote his com- 
 panion unto death, and dipped his hands in the warm blood of 
 the quivering corse. 
 
 But the darkness was heavy. The man grew lonely. And 
 then he sought to mount the wall. But his hands slipped on 
 the human blood of the red, slimy dollar-marks, and he fell 
 crashing back among his tinkling treasures. He rose, and tried 
 agairi. The naked, splitting skulls leered at him. The tooth- 
 less jaws clattered, and the eyeless sockets glowed eerily. The 
 man raised his voice. He begged that a rope be lowered. He 
 
 61 241 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 would go out once more into the sun-lit world. But the chill 
 wind brotlght him only despairing moans. 
 
 Then he rushed madly to the wall, and smote it with his- 
 bare hands. It mocked him with the strength which he had 
 given it. He turned and tore his hair and flesh. He gnashed his 
 teeth until they broke into bits. He cursed; he raved; he 
 pleaded; he offered all his great treasure for freedom. But the 
 skulls grinned their horrid mockery at him ; and the blood on 
 the stones dripped upon his burning head. And above it all he 
 heard the low plotting of those without who were awaiting his 
 death, that they might throw down the wall and take away his 
 treasure. 
 
 And then his fear became frenzy; his love of gold turned to 
 horror; his reason fled; and he dashed himself wildly against 
 the prison which he had reared, until he fell, bleeding and 
 broken. And as he fell, he heard the shrill cackle of demons 
 that danced their hellish steps on the top of the wall. Then 
 the Furies flew down and bound him tight. 
 
 "Ah, my God, 
 What might I not have made of Thy fair wprld 
 Had I but loved Thy highest creature here? 
 It was my duty to have loved the highest; 
 It surely was my profit had I known." 
 
 He awoke from his terror, dripping. He feebly lifted his 
 head. Then he sought to raise his arms, to move. He was 
 alive! And then the scream tore from his dry throat. His 
 great body was half dead ! 
 
 The attendants flew to his couch. The physicians bent over 
 him and sought to soothe his mental agony. The man's tor- 
 ture was fearful to behold; his weakness, pitiable. He sank 
 again into somnolence. But the sleep was one of unbroken 
 horror; and those in the room stopped in the course of their 
 duties; and their faces blanched; and they held their hands to 
 their ears, when his awful moans echoed through the curtained 
 room. 
 
 Through his dreams raced the endless panorama of his 
 crowded life. Now he was wading through muddy slums where 
 stood the wretched houses which he rented for immoral pur- 
 poses. He was madly searching for something. What could 
 it be? Ah, yes, his girl! Some one had s£iid she was there. 
 Who was it? Aye, who but himself? But he found her not. 
 And he wept bitterly. 
 
 And then he hurried to Avon; and there he dug into those 
 fresh graves — dug, dug, dug, throwing the dirt up in great 
 heaps behind him. And into the face of each corpse as he 
 
 242 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 dragged it out of its damp bed he peered eagerly. But with 
 awful moans he threw them from him in turn, for she was not 
 there. 
 
 Then he fled down, down, far into the burning South; and 
 there he roamed the trackless wastes, calling her name. And 
 the wild beasts and the hissing serpents looked out at him from 
 the thick bush, looked with great, red eyes, and then fled from 
 him with loathing. And, suddenly, he came upon another 
 mound near the banks of a great river. And over it stood a 
 rude cross; and on the cross he read the dim, penciled word, 
 Dolores. Ah, God! how he cried out for the oblivion that was 
 not his. But the ghastly mound froze his blood, and he rushed 
 from it in terror, and fell, whirling over and over, down, down 
 into eternal blackness filled with dying men's groans ! 
 
 The awful day drew to a close. The exhausted attendants 
 stood about the bed with bated breath. The physicians had 
 called Doctor Morton in consultation, for the latter was a brain 
 specialist. And while they sat gazing at the crazed, stricken 
 giant, hopelessly struggling to lift the inert mass of his dead 
 body. Reverend Darius Borwell entered. He bowed silently to 
 them all; then went to the bedside and took the patient's hand. 
 A moment later he turned to the physicians and nurses. 
 
 "Let us ask God's help for Mr. Ames," he said gravely. 
 
 They bowed, and he knelt beside the bed and prayed long 
 and earnestly; prayed that the loving Father who had made 
 man in His image would take pity on the suffering one who 
 lay there, and, if it be His will, spare him for Jesus' sake. 
 
 He arose from his knees, and they all sat quiet for some 
 moments. Then Doctor Morton's heavy voice broke the silence 
 of death. "Mr. Borwell," he said in awful earnestness, ex- 
 tending his hand toward the bed, "cure that man, if your re- 
 ligion is anything more than a naijie!" 
 
 A hot flush of indignation spread over the minister's face; 
 but he did not reply. Doctor Morton turned to the physicians. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he said solemnly, "Mr. Ames, I think, is past 
 our aid. There is nothing on earth that can save him. If he 
 lives, he will be hopelessly insane." He hesitated, and turned 
 to a maid. "Where is his daughter Kathleen?" he asked. 
 
 "Upstairs, sir, in her apartments," answered the maid, 
 wiping her red eyes. 
 
 "See that she remains there," said the doctor gruffly. "Gen- 
 tlemen," turning again to the physicians, "I have but one sug- 
 gestion. Send for — for — that little girl. Carmen." 
 
 "It is ill-advised. Doctor," interrupted one of the men. "It 
 would only further excite him. It might hasten the end." 
 
 "I do not agree with you," returned Doctor Morton. "As it 
 is, he is doomed. With her here — there may be a chance." 
 
 243 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 The others shook their heads; but Doctor Morton persisted 
 stubbornly. Finally Doctor Haley gave his ultimatum. "If 
 she is seift for, I shall retire from the case." 
 
 "Very -well," announced Doctor Morton evenly, "then I will 
 take it myself." He rose and went out into the vestibule where 
 there was a telephone. Calling for the Beaubien cottage, he 
 gave a peremptory order that Carmen come at once in the 
 automobile which he was sending for her. 
 
 The Beaubien turned from the telephone to the girl. Her 
 face was deathly pale. 
 
 "What is it, mother dearest?" 
 
 "They— they want— you!" 
 
 "Why— is it— is he—" 
 
 "They say he is — dying," the woman whispered. 
 
 Carmen " stood for a minute as if stunned. "Why — I — ■ 
 didn't know — that there was — anything wrong. Mother, you 
 didn't tell me! Why?" 
 
 The Beaubien threw her arms around the girl. Father Waite 
 rose from the table where he had been writing, and came to 
 them. 
 
 "Go," he said to Carmen. "The Lord is with thee! Go in 
 this thy might!" 
 
 A few minutes later the great bronze doors of the Ames 
 mansion swung wide to admit the daughter of the house. 
 
 Doctor Morton met the wondering girl, and led her directly 
 into the sick-room. The other physicians had departed. 
 
 "Miss Carmen," he said gravely, "Mr. Ames is past earthly 
 help. He can not live." 
 
 The girl turned upon him like a flash from a clear sky. 
 "You mean, he shall not live!" she cried. "For you doctors 
 have sentenced him!" 
 
 The startled man bowed, before the rebuke. Then a sense 
 of her magnificent environment, of her strange position, and 
 of the vivid events of the past few hours swept over her, and 
 she became embarrassed. The nurses and attendants, too, who 
 stood about and stared so hard at her, added to her confusion. 
 
 But the doctor took her hand. "Listen," he said. "I ani 
 leaving now, but you will remain. If I am needed, one of the 
 maids will summon me." 
 
 Carmen stood for a moment without speaking. Then she 
 walked slowly to the bed and looked down at the man. Doctor 
 Morton motioned to the attendants to withdraw. Then he him- 
 self stepped softly out and closed the door. When the girl 
 turned around, she was alone — with death. 
 
 244 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 CHAPTER 19 
 
 A CURIOUS, gossiping world, dwelling only in the froth of 
 the human mind, will not comprehend for many a year to 
 come what took place in that dim, tapestried chamber of 
 the rich man in those next hours. When twilight began to steal 
 through the marble halls of the great, shrouded mansion, the 
 nurse in charge, becoming apprehensive, softly opened the door 
 of the sick-room and peeped in. Through the darkness she saw 
 the girl, sitting beside the bed, with the man's right hand 
 clasped in both of hers, and her head resting upon his shoul- 
 der. And the nurse quickly closed the door again in awe, and 
 stole away. 
 
 The girl sat there all that day and all that night, nor would 
 leave but for brief moments to eat, or to reassure the Beau- 
 bien over the telephone that all was well. Doctor Morton came, 
 and went, and came again. Carmen smiled, and held his hand 
 for a moment each time, but said little. Ames had slept. And, 
 more, his cheeks were stained where the scalding tears had 
 coursed down them. But the doctor would ask no questions. 
 He was satisfied. The nurses entered only when summoned. 
 And three days and. nights passed. thus, while Carmen dwelt 
 with the man who, as the incarnation of error, seeking the de- 
 struction of others, had destroyed himself. 
 
 Then Doctor Morton announced to a waiting world that 
 his patient would live — ^but he would say no more. And the 
 world heard, too, that Kathleen Ames had left her father's roof 
 — left in humiliation and chagrin when she learned that Carmen 
 had come there to live — and had gone to England for a pro- 
 longed visit with the Dowager Duchess of Altern and her now 
 thoroughly dismayed son. But Sidney came; and with him 
 the black-veiled Beaubien. And they both knelt beside the bed 
 of suffering; and the hand of the now quiet man slowly went 
 out and lay for a moment upon their bowed heads, while Car- 
 men stood near. Then Willett was sent for; and he came often 
 after that, and took his master's scarce audible instructions, 
 and went away again to touch the wires and keys that ended 
 the war of hatred at Avon; that brought Father Danny in the 
 master's private car to the great metropolitan hospital; that 
 sent to the startled Hitt the canceled mortgage papers on the 
 Express; and that inaugurated that great work of restitution 
 which held the dwellers in the Ames mansion toiling over 
 musty books and forgotten records for months to come. 
 
 What had passed between the man and the sweet-faced girl 
 
 245 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 •who hovered over him like a ray of light, no one may know. 
 That he had trod the glowing embers of hell, his cavernous, 
 deep-lined face and whitening hair well testified. It was said 
 afterward that on that third day he had opened his eyes and 
 looked straight into those of the girl. It was said that she 
 then whispered but one word, "Father." And that, when the 
 sound of her low voice fell upon his straining ears, he had 
 reached out the arm that still held life, and had drawn her 
 head down upon his breast, and wept like a motherless babe. 
 But what he had said, if aught, about the abandoned mother 
 who, on the banks of the distant river, years gone, had yielded 
 her life to him and his child, no one knew. Of but one thing 
 was there any certainty: the name of Padre Jose de Rincon 
 had not crossed their lips during those dark days. 
 
 And so two weeks passed. Then strong men lifted the 
 giant from his bed and placed him in a wheel chair; and 
 Carmen drew the chair out into the conservatory, among the 
 ferns and flowers, and sat beside him, his hand still clasped 
 in both of hers. That he had found life, no one who marked 
 his tense, eager look, which in every waking moment lay upon 
 the girl, could deny. His body was dead ; his soul was fluttering 
 feebly into a new sense of being. 
 
 But with the awakening of conscience, in the birth-throes 
 of a new life, came the horrors, the tortures, the wild frenzy 
 of self-loathing; and, but for the girl who clung so desperately 
 to him, he would have quickly ended his useless existence. 
 What had he done J God ! What mad work had he done ! He 
 was a murderer of helpless babes! He was the blackest of 
 criminals! The stage upon which the curtain had risen, 
 whereon he saw the hourly portrayal of his own fiendish deeds, 
 stood always before him like a haunting spectre; and as he 
 gazed with horrified eyes, his hair grew hourly white. 
 
 And the torture was rendered more poignant by the 
 demands of his erstwhile associates and henchmen. They had 
 taken fright at the first orders which had issued from the 
 sick-bed, but now they swooped down upon the harassed man 
 to learn what might be expected from him in the future. What 
 were to be his policies now in regard to those manifold 
 interests which he was pursuing with such vigor a few weeks 
 ago? Was he still bent upon depriving Senator Gossitch of the 
 seat which the Ames money had purchased? Was the Ketchim 
 prosecution to continue? The Amalgamated Spinners' Associ- 
 ation must know at once his further plans. The Budget needed 
 money and advice. His great railroad projects, his mining 
 ventures, his cotton deals, his speculations and gambling 
 schemes — whither should they tend now? Ward bosses, dive 
 
 246 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 keepers, bank - presidents, lawyers, magnates, and preachers 
 clamored for admission at his doors when they learned that 
 he would live, but that a marvelpus, incomprehensible change 
 had swept over him. 
 
 The tired, hectored man turned to Carmen. And she called 
 Hitt and Waite and the keen-minded Beaubien. The latter's 
 wide business experience and worldly knowledge now stood 
 them all in good stead, and she threw herself like a bulwark 
 between the stricken man and the hounds that roared at his 
 gates. There were those among them who, like Ames, had 
 bitterly fought all efforts at industrial and social reform, and 
 yet who saw the dawning of a new era in the realms of finance, 
 of politics, of religion. There were those who sensed the slow 
 awakening of the world-conscience, and who resisted it dies- 
 perately, and who now sat frightened and angered at the 
 thought of losing their great leader. Their attitude toward 
 life, like his, had been wrong from the beginning; they, like 
 him, were striking examples of the dire effects of a false view- 
 point in the impoverishing of human life. But, with him, they 
 had built up a tremendous material fabric. And now they 
 shook with fear as they saw its chief support removed. For 
 they must know that his was a type that was fast passing, 
 and after it must come the complete breakdown of the old 
 financial order. His world-embracing gambling — which 
 touched all men in some way, for it had to do with the very 
 necessities of life, with crops, with railroads, with industries, 
 and out of which he had coined untold millions — had ceased 
 forever. What did it portend to them? 
 
 And to him also came Reverend Darius Borwell, in whose 
 congregation sat sanctimonious malefactors of vast wealth, 
 whose pockets bulged with disease-laden profits from the sales 
 of women's bodies and souls. Reverend Borwell came to offer 
 the sufferer the dubious consolations of religion — and inquire 
 if his beautiful change of heart would affect the benefaction 
 which he had designed for the new church. 
 
 Ah, this was the hour when the fallen giant faced the 
 Apostle's awful question: What fruit had ye then in those 
 things whereof ye are now ashamed? For the end of those 
 things is death! 
 
 And then came Monsignor Lafelle, asking not to see the 
 sick man, but the girl. And, alone with. her in the great library 
 that day, he bent low over her hand and beggied that she 
 would forgive and forget. It was he who told Mrs. Ames that 
 flagrantly false tale of the girl's parentage. He had received 
 it from Wenceslas, in Cartagena. It was he who, surmising 
 the dark secret of Ames, had concluded that the supposed 
 
 247 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Infanta had been his wife. And he had returned to New York 
 to confront him with the charge, and to make great capital 
 out of it. But he had never suspected for a moment Carmen's 
 connection with the mystery. And now — 
 
 But the girl saw only the image of God in the humiliated 
 man. And when he kissed her hand and departed, she bade 
 him know, always, that she loved him as a brother." And he 
 knew it, knew that her love was of the spirit — it left all for 
 the Christ. 
 
 A few days later there was delivered at the Ames mansion 
 a cable message from Cartagena, in reply to one which the 
 master had sent to the lawyer, Estrella. Ames shook with 
 suppressed excitement when he read it. Then he bade Carmen 
 send at once for Hitt, Willett, and Captain McCall, and leave 
 them with him for a private conference. 
 
 "She must not know! She must not know!" Ames re- 
 peated, as the three men sat leaning eagerly forward an hour 
 later, drinking in every word he spoke. "If the mission is 
 successful, well and good. If it fails, then our silence now 
 will be justified, for as yet I have said nothing to her regarding 
 him. Peace is being concluded there. Wenceslas has won — 
 but with — ^but of that later. When can you get under way, 
 McCall?" 
 
 "To-night, sir. The bunkers are full." 
 
 "Very good. I will go aboard at ten. You will weigh 
 anchor immediately." 
 
 "What?" cried Hitt. "You will go?" 
 
 "I will!" The sudden flash of his old-time energy nearly 
 startled them from their chairs. "And," he added, "you, Mr. 
 Hitt, will accompany us. Now, Willett, have the door of my 
 limousine widened to accommodate this wheel chair. I want 
 a dozen men to insure our privacy, and to keep the way clear. 
 No one not in our confidence must see us depart." 
 
 Hitt gasped. "But— Carmen— " 
 
 "Goes with us," returned Ames. "I can not spare her for 
 a moment. Madam Beaubien will have charge of the house 
 during our absence. We will be back here, weather favorable, 
 in three weeks — or not at all!" 
 
 "Yet, she will know—" 
 
 "Nothing. I take the trip, ostensibly, for the change; to get 
 away from those who are hounding me here; for recuperation — 
 anything! Go, now, and make ready!" The man's eyes 
 glistened like live coals, and his sunken cheeks took on a 
 feverish glow. 
 
 That night the Cossack, enveloped in gloom, steamed noise- 
 lessly out of New York harbor, and turned her prow to the 
 
 248 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 South. And when she had entered the high sea. Captain McCall 
 from his bridge aloft sent a message down to the waiting 
 engineer : 
 
 "Full speed ahead!" 
 
 CHAPTER 20 
 
 CARTAGENA'S slumber of centuries had been broken by 
 nearly four years of civil warfare. But on the day that the 
 lookout in the abandoned convent of Santa Candelari^, on 
 the summit of La Popa, flashed the message down into the old 
 city that a steam yacht had appeared on the northern horizon, 
 she was preparing to sink back again into quiet dreams. For 
 peace was being concluded'among the warring political factions. 
 The country lay devastated and blood-soaked; but the cause of 
 Christ had triumphed, and the Church still sat supreme in the 
 councils of Bogota. Cartagena wa§ en fete; the last of the 
 political agitators would be executed on the morrow. And so 
 the lookout's message was received with indifference, even 
 though he embellished it with the comment that the boat must 
 be privately owned, as no ships of the regular lines were due 
 to arrive that day. 
 
 Quietly the graceful craft swept down past Tierra Bomba 
 and into the Boca Chica, between the ancient forts of San 
 Fernando and San Jose, and came to anchor out in the beauti- 
 ful harbor, a half mile from the ancient gate of the clock. 
 A few curious idlers along the shore watched it and com- 
 mented on its perfect lines. And the numerous officials of the 
 port lazily craned their necks at it, and yawningly awaited the 
 arrival of the skiff that' was immediately lowered and headed 
 for the pier. 
 
 The tall American who stepped from the little boat and 
 came at once to them to show his papers, easily satisfied their 
 curiosity, for many tourists of the millionaire class dropped 
 anchor in Cartagena's wonderful harbor, arid came ashore to 
 wander among the decaying mementos of her glorious past. 
 And this boat was not a stranger to these waters. On the 
 yacht itself, as they glanced again toward it, there was no 
 sign of life. Even the diminishing volume of smoke that rose 
 from its funnels evidenced the owner's intention of spending 
 some time in that romantic spot. 
 
 From the dock, Hitt passed through the old gateway in the 
 massive wall, quickly crossed the Plaza de Caches, and lost 
 himself in the gay throngs that were entering upon the day's 
 
 249 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 festivities. Occasionally he dropped into wine shops and little 
 stores, and lingered about to catch stray bits of gossip. Then 
 he slowly made his way up past the Cathedral and into the 
 Plaza de Simon Bolivar. 
 
 For a while, sitting on a bench in front of the equestrian 
 statue of the famous Libertador, he watched the parsing 
 crowds. From time to time his glance strayed over toward 
 the Cathedral. Once he rose, and started in that direction; 
 then came back and resumed his seat. It was evident that he 
 was driven hard, and yet knew not just what course to pursue. 
 
 Finally he jumped to his feet and went over to a little 
 cigar store which had caught his eye. He bent over the soiled 
 glass case and selected several cigars from the shabby stock. 
 Putting one of them into his mouth, he lighted it, and then 
 casually nodded to a powerfully built man standing near. 
 
 The latter turned to the proprietor and made some comment 
 in Spanish. Hitt immediately replied to it in the same tongue. 
 The man flushed with embarrassment ; then doffed his hat and 
 offered an apology. "I forget, senor," he said, "that so many 
 Americans speak our language." 
 
 Hitt held out his hand and laughed heartily at the incident. 
 Then his eye was attracted by a chain which the man wore. 
 
 "May I examine it?" he asked, bending toward it. 
 
 "Cierto, senor," returned the man cordially, "It came from 
 an Indian grave up in Guamoco. I am a guaqliero — grave dig- 
 ger — by profession; Jorge Costal, by name." 
 
 Hitt glanced up at the man. Somehow he seemed to be 
 familiar with that name. Somewhere he seemed to have heard 
 it. But on whose lips? Carmen's? "Suppose," he said, in 
 his excellent Spanish, "that we cross the Plaza to yonder wine 
 shop. You may be able to tell me some of the history of this 
 interesting old town. And — it would be a great favor, senor." 
 
 The man bowed courteously and accepted the invitation. A 
 few moments later they sat at a little table, with a bottle 
 between them, commenting on the animated scene in the street 
 without. 
 
 "Peace will be concluded to-day, they say," reflected Hitt, 
 by way of introduction. 
 
 "Yes," returned the man grimly, "there is but little more 
 blood to let. That flows to-morrow." 
 
 "Political agitators?" Hitt suggested. 
 
 The man's face darkened. "Only one," he muttered. "The 
 other is — " 
 
 He stopped and eyed Hitt furtively. But the American 
 manifested only a casual interest. 
 
 "Their names?" he asked nonchalantly. 
 
 250 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 "They were posted this morning," said the man. "Amado 
 Jesus Fanor and Jose de Rinc6n." 
 
 Hitt started, but held himself. "Who— who are they?" 
 he asked in a controlled voice. 
 
 "A liberal general and an ex-priest." 
 
 "Ex-priest?" exclaimed Hitt. . 
 
 The man looked at him wonderingly. "Yes, seiior. Why?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing — nothing. It is the custom to — to shoot ex- 
 priests down here, eh?" 
 
 "Caramba! No! But this man — seiior, why do you ask?" 
 
 "Well — it struck me as curious — that's all," returned Hitt, 
 at a loss for a suitable answer. "You didn't happen to know 
 these men, I presume?" 
 
 "Na, seiior, you seek to involve me. Who are you, that you 
 ask such questions of a stranger?" The man reflected the 
 suspicious caution of these troublous times. 
 
 "Why, amigo, it is of no concern to me," replied Hitt easily, 
 flicking the ashes from his cigar. "I once knew a fellow by 
 that name. Met him here years ago. Learned that he after- 
 ward went to Simitl. But I — " 
 
 "Seiior!" cried the man, starting up. "Are you the Ameri- 
 cano, the man who explored?" 
 
 "I am," said Hitt, bending closer to him. "And we are well 
 met, for you are Don Jorge, who knew Padre Jose de Rincon 
 in Simiti, no?" 
 
 The man cast a timid glance around the room. "Senor," 
 he whispered, "we must not say these things here! I leave 
 you now — " 
 
 "Not yet!" Hitt laid a hand upon his. "Where is he?" he 
 demanded in a low voice. 
 
 "In San Fernando, seiior." 
 
 "And how long?" 
 
 "A year, I think. He was first three years in the prison in 
 Cartagena. But the Bish — " 
 
 "Eh? Don Wenceslas had him removed to San Fernando?" 
 
 The man nodded. 
 
 "And—" 
 
 "He will be shot to-morrow, seiior." 
 
 Hitt thought with desperate rapidity. Then he looked up. 
 "Why do you say he is an ex-priest?" he asked. 
 
 "He has just been excommunicated," replied the man. 
 "Cursed, they say, by bell, book, and candle." 
 
 "Good heavens! That he might be shot? Ah, I see it all! 
 Ames's message! Of course Don Wenceslas would not dare to 
 execute a priest in good standing. And so he had him excom- 
 municated, eh?" 
 
 251 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Don Jorge shrugged his shoulders. "Quien sabe?" he mut- 
 tered. 
 
 Hitt sat for a while in a deep study. Time was precious. 
 And yet it was flying like the winds. Then he roused up. 
 
 "You knew a little girl — in Simitl — in whom this Rinc6n 
 was interested?" 
 
 "Ah, yes, seiior. But — why do you ask? She went to the 
 great States from which you come. And I think little was 
 heard from her after that." 
 
 "Eh? Yes, true. She lived with—" 
 
 "Don Rosendo Ariza." 
 ■ "Yes. And he?" 
 
 "Dead— he and his good wife, Doiia Maria." 
 
 Hitt's head sank. How could he break this to Carmen? 
 Then he sprang to his feet. "Come," he said, "we will stroll 
 down by the walls. I would like a look at San Fernando." 
 
 "Ha! Seiior, you — ^you — " 
 
 Hitt threw him a look of caution, and shook his head. Then, 
 motioning him to follow, he led him out and down through the 
 winding, tortuous thoroughfares. On the summit of the walls 
 were sentinels, posted at frequent intervals; and no civilian 
 might walk upon the great enclosure until peace had been 
 formally declared. 
 
 Hailing a passing carriage, Hitt urged the wondering Don 
 Jorge into it, and bade the driver convey them to the old ruin 
 of San Felipe, and leave them. There they climbed the broken 
 incline into the battered fortress, and seated themselves in the 
 shadow of a crumbling parapet. They were alone on the 
 enormous, grass-grown pile. From their position they com- 
 manded a wonderful view across the town and harbor, and 
 far out over the green waters of the Caribbean. The Cossack 
 lay asleep in the quiet harbor. Don Jorge saw it, and wondered 
 whence it came. 
 
 "Listen, amigo," began Hitt, pointing to the yacht. "In that 
 boat is a girl, whose dearest earthly treasure is the condemned 
 prisoner out there in San Fernando. That girl is the little 
 Carmen, foster-daughter of old Rosendo." 
 
 "Hombre!" tried Don Jorge, staring at Hitt as if he sus- 
 pected his sanity. 
 
 "It is true, friend, for I myself came with her in that boat." 
 
 "Carambal" 
 
 "And," continued Hitt, glancing again about the ruined 
 fortress and lowering his voice, "we have come for Jos6 de 
 Rinc6n." 
 
 "Santa Virgen! Are you loco?" 
 
 Hitt smiled. "And now," he went on eagerly, "how are we 
 to get him?" 
 
 252 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "Bui, amigo! San Fernando is closely guarded! And he— 
 por supuesto, he -will be in the dungeons!" 
 
 "No doubt," returned Hitt dryly, "if your excellent friend 
 Wenceslas has had anything to do with it. But dungeons have 
 windows, eh?" 
 
 "Caramba, yes; and San Fernando's are just above the 
 water's edge. And when the waves are high the sea pours 
 into them!" 
 
 "And — could we learn which window is his, do you think?" 
 
 "Sefior, I know," replied the man. 
 
 "Ha! And—" 
 
 "I learned from one of the soldiers, Fernando, who once 
 lived in Simiti. I had thoiight, senor, that — that perhaps I — " 
 
 "That perhaps you might make the attempt yourself, eh?" 
 put in Hitt eagerly. 
 
 Don Jorge nodded. Hitt sprang to his feet and looked out 
 toward the silent fortress. 
 
 "Don Jorge, it is dark out over the harbor at night, eh? 
 No searchlights?" 
 
 "None, senor." 
 
 Hitt began to pace back and forth. Suddenly he stopped, 
 and stood looking down through a hole in the broken pavement. 
 Then he knelt and peered long and eagerly into it. 
 
 "Look here, friend," he called. "How does one get into that 
 place?" 
 
 Don Jorge came and looked into the aperture. "It is one 
 of the rooms of the fortress," he said. "But — caramba! I 
 know not how it may be reached." 
 
 "The passageways?" 
 
 "Caved— all of them." 
 
 "But — ^you are a mighty husky fellow; and I am not weak. 
 Suppose we try lifting one of these flags." 
 
 "Na, senor, as well try the tunnels ! But, why?" 
 
 Hitt did not answer. But, bidding Don Jorge follow, he 
 sought the fallen entrance to the old fortress, and plunged 
 into the dark passage that led off from it into the thick gloom. 
 Groping his way down a long, damp corridor, he came to a 
 point where three narrower, brick-lined tunnels branched off, 
 one of them dipping into the earth at a sharp angle. He struck 
 a match, and then started down this, followed by the wondering 
 Don Jorge. 
 
 A thousand bats, hideous denizens of these black tunnels; 
 flouted their faces and disputed their progress. Don Jorge 
 slapped wildly at them, and cursed low. Hitt took up a long 
 club and struck savagely about him. On they stumbled, until 
 the match flickered out, and they were left in Stygiau black- 
 
 253 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ness, with the imps of darkness whirring madly about them. 
 Hitt struck another match, and plunged ahead. 
 
 At length they found the way blocked by a mass of rubbish 
 which had fallen from the roof. Hitt studied it for a moment, 
 then climbed upon it and, by the aid of the feeble light from 
 his matches, peered into the foul blackness beyond. 
 
 "Come," he said, preparing to proceed. 
 
 "Na, amigo! Not I!" exclaimed Don Jorge. His Latin 
 soul had revolted. 
 
 "Then wait for me here," said Hitt, pushing himself through 
 the narrow aperture at the top of the * rubbish, and fighting 
 the horde of terrified bats. 
 
 A few minutes later he returned, covered with slime, and 
 scratched and bleeding. "All right," he muttered. "Now let's 
 get out of this miserable hole!" 
 
 Out in the sunlight once more, Hitt sought to remove the 
 stains from his clothes, meanwhile bidding Don Jorge attend 
 well to his words. 
 
 "You swim, eh?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then do you come to the beach to-night to bathe, down 
 across from the yacht. And, listen well: you would do much 
 for the little Carmen, no? And for your friend Jose? Very 
 good. You will swim out to the yacht at seven to-night, with 
 your clothes in a bundle on your head, eh? And, Don Jorge — 
 but we will discuss that later. Now you go back to the city 
 alone. I have much to do. And, note this, you have not seen 
 me." 
 
 Meantime, to the group of politicians, soldiers, and clergy 
 assembled in the long audience room of the departmental offices 
 to debate the terms of the peace protocol, news of the arrival 
 of the Cossack was brought by a slow-moving messenger from 
 the dock. At the abrupt announcement the acting-Bishop was 
 seen to start - from his ch^ir. Was the master himself on 
 board? Quien sabe? And, if so^but, impossible! He would 
 hav^ advised his faithful co-laborer of his coming. And yet, 
 what were those strange rumors which had trickled over the 
 wires, and which, in his absorption in the local issues, and in 
 the excitement attendant upon the restoration of peace and 
 the settlement of the multifold claims of innumerable greedy 
 politicians, he had all but forgotten? A thousand suggestions 
 flashed through his mind, any one of which might account for 
 the presence of the Cossack in Cartagena's harbor that day. 
 But extreme caution must be observed until he might ascertain 
 its errand. He therefore despatched a message to the yacht, 
 expressing his great surprise and pleasure, and bidding its 
 
 254 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 master meet him at a convenient hour in his study in the Cathe- 
 dral. This done, he bent anew to the work before him, yet 
 with his thought harried by doubt, suspicion, and torturing 
 curiosity. 
 
 Wenceslas soon received a reply to his message. The 
 master was aboard, but unable to go ashore. The acting-Bishop 
 would therefore come to him at once. 
 
 Wenceslas hesitated, and his brow furrowed. He knew he 
 was called upon to render his reckoning to the great financier 
 who had furnished the sinews of war. But he must have time 
 to consider thoroughly his own advantage, for well he under- 
 stood that he was summoned to match his own keen wits with 
 those of a .master mind. 
 
 And then there flashed through his thought the reports 
 which had circled the world but three short weeks before. The 
 man of wealth had found his daughter; and she was the girl 
 for whom the two Americans had outwitted him four years 
 ago! And the girl — Simiti — and — ah, Rincon! Good! He 
 laughed outright. He would meet the financier — but not until 
 the morrow, at noon, for, he would allege, the unanticipated 
 arrival of Ames had found this day completely occupied. So 
 he again despatched his wondering messenger to the Cossack. 
 And that messenger was rowed out to the qiiiet yacht in the 
 same boat with the tall American, whose clothes were torn and 
 caked with mud, and in whose eyes there glowed a fierce 
 determination. 
 
 That night the sky was overcast. The harbingers of the 
 wet season had already arrived. At two in the morning the 
 rain came, descending in a torrent. In the midst of it a light 
 skiff, rocking dangerously on the swelling sea, rounded a corner 
 of San Fernando and crept like a shadow along the dull gray 
 wall. The sentry above had taken shelter from the driving rain. 
 The ancient fort lay heavily shrouded in gloom. 
 
 At one of the narrow, grated windows which were set just 
 above the water's surface the skiff hung, and a long form arose 
 from its depths and grasped the iron bars. A moment later 
 the gleam of an electric lantern flashed iiito the blackness with- 
 in. It fell upon a rough bench, standing in foul, slime-covered 
 water. Upon the bench sat the huddled form of a man. 
 
 Then another dark shape rose in the skiff. Another pair 
 of hands laid hold on the iron bars. And behind those great, 
 calloused hands stretched thick arms, with the strength of an 
 ox. An iron lever was inserted between the bars. The heavy 
 breathing and the low sounds of the straining were drowned 
 by the tropic storm. The prisoner leaped from the bench and 
 stood ankle-deep in the water, straining his eyes upward. 
 
 255 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The light flashed again into his face. His heart pounded 
 ■wildly. His throbbing ears caught the splash of a knotted rope 
 falling into the water at his feet. Above the noise of the rain 
 he thought he heard a groaning, creaking sound. Those rusted, 
 storm-eaten bars in the blackness above must be slowly 
 yielding to an awful pressure. He turned and dragged the 
 slime-covered bench to the window, and stood upon it. Then 
 he grasped the rope with a strength born anew of hope and 
 excitement, and pulled himself upward. The hands from with- 
 out seized him; and slowly, painfully, his emaciated body was 
 crushed through the narrow space between the bent bars. 
 ♦ ♦»*** 
 
 Cartagena awoke to experience another thrill. And then 
 the ripple of excitement gave place to anger. The rabble had 
 lost one of its victims, and that one the chief. Moreover, the 
 presence of that graceful yacht, sleeping so quietly out there in 
 the sun-lit harbor, could not but be associated with that most 
 daring deed of the preceding night, which had given liberty to 
 the excommunicated priest and political malefactor, Jose de 
 Rinc6n. Crowds of chattering, gesticulating citizens gathered 
 along the harbor shores, and loudly voiced their disappointment 
 and threats. But the boat lay like a thing asleep. Not even a 
 wisp of smoke rose from its yellow funnels. 
 
 Then came the Alcalde, and the Departmental Governor, 
 grave and sedate, with their aids and secretaries, their books 
 and documents, their mandates and red-sealed processes, and 
 were rowed out to confront the master whom they believed to 
 have dared to thwart the hand of justice and remain to taunt 
 them with his egregious presence. This should be made an 
 international episode, whose ramifications would wind down 
 through years to come, and embrace long, stupid congressional 
 debates, apologies demanded, huge sums to salve a wounded 
 nation, and the making and breaking of politicians too numer- 
 ous to mention! 
 
 But the giant who received them, bound to his chair; in the 
 splendid library of the palatial yacht, and with no attendant, 
 save a single valet, flared out in a towering rage at the gross 
 insult offered him and his great country in these black charges. 
 He had come on a peaceful errand; partly, too, for reasons of 
 health. And he was at that moment awaiting a visit from His 
 Grace. What manner of reception was this, that Cartagena ex- 
 tended to an influential representative of the powerful States 
 of the North ! 
 
 "But," the discomfited Indignation Committee gasped, 
 "what of the tall American who was seen to land the day 
 before?" 
 
 256 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 The master laughed in their faces. He? Why, but a poor, 
 obsessed archaeologist, now prowling around the ruins of San 
 Felipe, doubtless mumbling childishly as he prods the dust and 
 mold of centuries! Go, visit him, if they would be convinced! 
 
 And when these had gone, chagrined and mortified^ — though 
 filled with wonder, for they had roamed the Cossack, and 
 peered into its every nook and cranny, and stopped to look a 
 second time at the fair-haired young boy who looked like a 
 girl, and hovered close to the master— came His Grace, Wen- 
 ceslas. He came alone, and with a sneer curling his imperious 
 lips. And his calm, arrogant eyes held a meaning that boded 
 no good to the man who sat in his wheel chair, alone, and could 
 not rise to welcome him. 
 
 "A very pretty trick, my powerful friend," said the angered 
 churchman in his perfect English. "And one that will cause 
 your Government at Washington some — " 
 
 "Enough!" interrupted Ames in a steady voice. "I sent for 
 you yesterday, intending to ask you to release the man. I had 
 terms then which would have advantaged you greatly. You 
 were afraid to see me until you had evolved your plans of 
 opposition. Only a fixed and devilish hatred, nourished by you 
 against a harmless priest who possessed your secrets, doomed 
 him to die to-day. But we will pass that for the present. I 
 have here my demands for the aid I have furnished you. You 
 may look them over." He held out some typewritten sheets to 
 Wenceslas. 
 
 The churchman glanced hastily over them; then handed 
 them back with a smile. 
 
 "With certain modifications," he said smoothly. "The terms 
 on which peace is concluded will scarcely admit of — " 
 
 "Very well," returned Ames quietly. "And now. La Liber- 
 tad?" 
 
 Wenceslas laughed. "En manos muertas, my friend," he 
 replied. "It was your own idea." 
 
 "And the emerald concession?" 
 
 "Impossible ! A government monopoly, you know," said His 
 Grace easily. "You see, my friend, it is a costly matter to eflfect 
 the jescape of state prisoners. As things stand now, your little 
 trick of last night quite protects me. For, first you instruct me, 
 long ago, to place the weak little Jose in San Fernando; and I 
 obey. Then you suffer a change of heart, and slip down here to 
 release the man, who has become a state prisoner. That quite 
 removes you from any claims upon us for a share of the spoils 
 of war. I take it, you do not wish to risk , exposure of your 
 part in this four years' carnage?" 
 
 Ames drew a sigh. Then he pulled himself together. Wen- 
 
 257 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 ceslas," he said, "I am not the man with whom you dealt in 
 these matters. He is dead. I have but one thing more to say, 
 and that is that I renounce all claims upon you and your Gov- 
 ernment, excepting one. La Libertad mine was owned by the 
 Rincon family. It was rediscovered by old Rosendo, and the 
 title transferred to his foster-daughter. Its possession must 
 remain with her and her associates. There is no record, so 
 you have informed me, to the effect that the Church possesses 
 this mine." 
 
 "But, my friend, there shall be such a record to-day," 
 laughed Wenceslas. "And, in your present situation, you will 
 hardly care to contest it." 
 
 Ames smiled. He now had the information which he had 
 been seeking. The title to the famous mine lay still with the 
 Simiti company. He pressed the call-button attached to his 
 chair. The door opened, and Don Jorge entered, leading the 
 erstwhile little newsboy, Jose de Rinc6n, by the hand. 
 
 Wenceslas gasped, and staggered back. He knew not the 
 man; but the boy was a familiar figure. 
 
 Don Jorge advanced straight to him. Their faces almost 
 touched. 
 
 "Your Grace, were you married to the woman by whom you 
 had this son?" Don Jorge'^s steady words fell upon the church- 
 man's ears like a sentence of death. 
 
 "I ask," continued the dark-faced man, "because I learned 
 last night that the lad's mother was my daughter, the little 
 Maria." 
 
 "Santa Virgenl" 
 
 "Yes, Your Grace, a sainted virgin, despoiled by a devil! 
 And the man who gave me this information — ^^would you like to 
 know? Bien, it was Padre Jos6 de Rinc6n, in whose arms she 
 died, you lecherous dog!" 
 
 Wenceslas paled, and his brow grew moist. He stared at 
 the boy, and then at the strong man whom he had so foully 
 wronged. 
 
 "If you have concluded your talk with Seiior Ames," con- 
 tinued Don Jorge, "we will go ashore — you and the lad and I." 
 
 Wenceslas's face brightened. Ashore! Yes, by all means! 
 
 The trio turned and quietly left the room. Gaining the 
 deck, Wenceslas found a skiff awaiting them, and two strong 
 sailors at the oars. Don Jorge urged him on, and together they 
 descended the ladder and entered the boat. A few moments 
 later they landed at the pier, and the skiff turned back to the 
 yacht. 
 
 As to just what followed, accounts vary. There were some 
 who remembered seeing His Grace pass through the narrow 
 
 258 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 streets with a dark-skinned, powerful man, whose hand 
 grasped that of the young newsboy. There were others who 
 said that they saw the boy leave them at the Cathedral, and 
 the two men turn and enter. Still others said they saw the 
 heavy-set man come out alone. But there was only one who 
 discovered the body of Wenceslas, crumpled up in a hideous 
 heap upon the floor of his study, with a poignard driven clean 
 through his heart. That man was the old sexton, who fled 
 screaming from the awful sight late that afternoon. 
 
 Again Cartagena shook with excitement, and seethed with 
 mystery. Had the escaped prisoner, Rincon, returned to com- 
 mit this awful deed? There were those who said he had. For 
 the dark-skinned man who had entered the Cathedral with His 
 Grace was seen again on the streets and in the wine shops that 
 afternoon, and had been marked by some mounting the broken 
 incline of San Felipe. 
 
 Again the Governor and Alcalde and their numerous suite 
 paid a visit to the master on board the Cossack, But they 
 learned only that His Grace had gone ashore long before he 
 met his fearful death. And so the Governor returned to the 
 city, and was driven to San Felipe. But his only reward was 
 the sight of the obsessed archaeologist, mud-stained and ab- 
 sorbed, prying about the old ruins, and uttering little cries of 
 delight at new discoveries of crumbling passageways and caving 
 rooms. And so there was nothing for the disturbed town to do 
 but settle down and ponder the strange case. 
 
 A week later smoke was seen again pouring out of the Cos- 
 sack's funnels. That same day the Governor and Alcalde and 
 their suites were bidden to a farewell banquet on board the 
 luxurious yacht. Far into the night they sat over their rare 
 wines and rich food, drinking deep healths to the entente 
 cordial which existed between the little republic of the South 
 and the great one of the North. And while they drank and 
 sang and listened enraptured to the wonderful pipe-organ, a 
 little boat put out from the dark, tangled shrubbery along the 
 shore. And when it rubbed against the yacht, a muffled figure 
 mounted the ladder which hung in the shadows, and hastened 
 through the rear hatchway and down into the depths of the 
 boat. Then, long after midnight, the last farewell being said 
 by the dizzy officials, and the echoes of Adios, adios, amigos! 
 lingering among its tall spars, the Cossack slipped noiselessly 
 out of the Boca Chica, and set its course for New York. 
 
 A few hours later, while the boat sped swiftly through the 
 phosphorescent waves, the escaped prisoner, Josd de Rincon, 
 who had lain for a week hidden in the bowels of old fort San 
 Felipe, stood alone in the wonderful smoking room of the Cos- 
 
 259 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 sack, and looked up at the sweet face pictured in the stained- 
 glass window above. And then he turned quickly, for the door 
 opened and a girl entered. A rush, a cry of joy, and his arms 
 closed about the fair vision that had sat by his side constantly 
 during the four long years of his imprisonment. 
 
 ■^Carmen!" 
 
 "My Jose!" 
 
 "I have solved my problem! I have proved God! I have 
 found the Christ!" 
 
 "I knew you would, for he was with you always!" 
 
 "But — oh, you beautiful, beautiful girl!" 
 
 Then in a little while she gently released herself and went 
 to the door through which she had entered. She paused for 
 a moment to smile back at the enraptured man, then turned 
 and flung the door wide. 
 
 A woman entered, leading a young boy. The man uttered 
 a loud exclamation and started toward her. 
 
 "Ana!" 
 
 He stopped short and stared down at the boy. Then he 
 looked wonderingly at Carmen. 
 
 "Yes," she said, stooping and lifting the boy up before Jose, 
 "it is Anita's babe — and he sees!" 
 
 The man clasped the child in his arms and buried his face 
 in its hair. 
 
 Verily, upon them that sat in darkness had the Light shined. 
 
 CHAPTER 21 
 
 ANOTHER summer had come and gone. Through the trees 
 in Central Park the afternoon sunlight, sifted and softened 
 " by the tinted autumn leaves, spread over the brown turf 
 like a gossamer web. And it fell like a gentle benediction upon 
 the massive figure of a man, walking unsteadily beneath the 
 trees, holding the hand of a young girl whose beauty made 
 every passer turn and look again. 
 
 "Now, father," laughed the girl, "once more I There ! Why, 
 you step off like a major!" 
 
 They were familiar figures, out there in the park, for almost 
 daily during the past few weeks they might have been seen, as 
 the girl laughingly said, "practicing their steps.'* And daily the 
 man's control became firmer; daily that limp left arm and leg 
 seemed increasingly to manifest life. 
 
 On a bench near by sat a dark-featured woman. About her 
 played her boy, filling the air with his merry shouts and his 
 imperfect English. 
 
 260 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 "There, father, comes Josd after us," announced the girl, 
 looking off with love-lit eyes at an approaching automobile. 
 "And Lewis is with him. Now, mind, you are going to get inta 
 the car without any help!" 
 
 The man laughed, and declared vehemently that if he could 
 not get in alone he would walk home. A few minutes later they 
 had gone. 
 
 The profound depth of those changes which had come into 
 the rich man's life, he himself might not fathom. But those 
 who toiled daily with him over his great ledgers and flies knew 
 that the transformation went far. There were flashes at times 
 of his former vigor and spirit of domination, but there were also 
 periods of grief that were heart-rending to behold, as when, 
 poring over his records for the name of one whom in years 
 past he had ruthlessly wrecked, he would flnd that the victim 
 had gone in poverty beyond his power to reimburse him. And 
 again, when his thought dwelt on Avon, and the carnal mad- 
 ness which had fllled those new graves there, he would sink 
 moaning into his chair and bury his drawn face in his hands 
 and sob. 
 
 And yet he strove madly, feverishly, to restore again to 
 those from whom he had taken. The Simiti company was re- 
 vived, through his labors, and the great La Libertad restored 
 to its reanimated stockholders. Work of development had 
 begun on the property, and Harris was again in Colombia in 
 charge of operations. The Express was booming, and the rich 
 man had consecrated himself to the carrying out of its clean 
 policies. The mills at Avon were running day and night; and 
 in a new location, far from the old-time "lungers' alley," long 
 rows of little cottages were going up for their employes. The 
 lawyer Collins had been removed, and Lewis Waite was to take 
 his place within a week. Father Danny, now recovered, re- 
 joiced in resources such as he had never dared hope to com- 
 mand. 
 
 And so the rich man toiled — ah, God ! if he had only known 
 before that in the happiness of others lay his own. If only he 
 could have known that but a moiety of his vast, unused income 
 would have let floods of sunshine into the lives of those 
 ' dwarfed, stunted children who toiled for him, and never played ! 
 Oh, if 'when he closed his mills in the dull months he had but 
 sent them and their tired mothers to the country flelds, how 
 they would have risen up and called him blessed ! If he could 
 have but known that he was his brother's keeper, and in a 
 sense that the world as yet knows not! For he is indeed wise 
 who loves his fellow-men; and he is a fool who hates them! 
 
 The great Fifth Avenue mansion was dark, except where 
 
 261 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 hung a cluster of glowing bulbs over the rich mahogany table 
 in the library. There about that table sat the little group of 
 searchers after God, with their number augmented now in 
 ways of which they could not have dreamed. And Hitt, great- 
 souled friend of the world, was speaking again as had been his 
 wont in the days now gone. 
 
 "The solution of the problems of mankind? Ah, yes, there 
 is a cure-all; there is a final answer to every ethical question, 
 every social, industrial, economic problem, the problems of 
 liquor, poverty, disease, war. And the remedy is so universal 
 that it dissolves even the tangles of tariff and theology. What 
 is it? Ah, my friends, the girl who came among us to 'show 
 the world what love will do' has taught us by her own rich 
 life — ^it is love. But not the sex-mesmerism, the covetousness, 
 the self-love, which mask behind that heavenly name. For God 
 is Love. And to know Him is to receive that marvelous Christ- 
 principle which unlocks for mankind the door of harmony. 
 
 "No, the world's troubles are not the fault of one man, nor 
 of many, but of all who seek happiness in things material, and 
 forget that the real man is the likeness of spirit, and that joy 
 is spiritual. The trusts, and the men of wealth, are not all 
 malefactors; the churches are not wholly filled with evil men. 
 But all, yes all, have 'missed the mark' through the belief that 
 matter and evil are real,, and must grope amid sickness, poverty, 
 crime, and death, until they are willing to turn from such false 
 beliefs, and from self, and seek their own in the reflection of 
 Him, who is Love, to their fellow-men. It is only as men join 
 to search for and apply the Christ-principle that they truly 
 unite to solve the world's sore problems and reveal the waiting 
 kingdom of harmony, which is always just at hand. And it 
 can be done. It must be, sometime. 
 
 "In that day all shall know that cause and effect are mental. 
 The man who hears the tempter, the carnal mind's suggestion 
 to enrich himself materially at the cost of his brother, will 
 know that it is but the voice of mesmerism, that 'man-killer 
 from the beginning', which bids him sever himself from his 
 God, who alone is infinite abundance. The society woman who 
 flits like a gorgeous butterfly about the courts of fashion, her 
 precious days wasted in motoring, her nights at cards, and* 
 whose vitality goes into dress, and into the watery schemes for 
 'who shall be greatest' in the dismal realm of the human mind, 
 must learn, willingly or through suffering, that her activities 
 are but mesmeric shams that counterfeit the divine activity 
 which manifests in joy and fullness for all. 
 
 "Christianity? What is it but the Christ-knowledge, the 
 knowledge of good, and its correlated knowledge, that evil is 
 
 262 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 only the mesmeric lie which has engulfed the world? But, oh, 
 the depths of that divine knowledge! The knowledge which 
 heals the sick, gives sight to the blind, and opens the prisons 
 to them that are captive ! We who are gathered here to-night, 
 feeling in our midst that great, unseen Presence which makes 
 for righteousness, know now that 'in my flesh shall I see God," 
 for we have indeed already seen and known Him." 
 
 With them sat the man who, swept by the storms of error 
 and the carnal winds of destruction, had solved his problem, 
 even as the girl by his side told him he should, and had been 
 found, when his foul prison opened, sitting "clothed and in his 
 right mind" at the feet of the Christ. Jesus "saw the heavens 
 opened, and the Spirit — ^^God — like a dove descending upon him 
 —immediately the Spirit — carnal beliefs error, the lie — driveth 
 him into the wilderness." And there he was made to prove God. 
 So Jose de Rincon, wlien the light had come, years gone, in 
 desolate Simiti, had been bidden to know the one God, and none 
 else. But he wavered when the floods of evil rolled over him; 
 he had looked longingly back; he had clung too tightly to the 
 human concept that walked with him like a shining light in 
 those dark days. And so she had been taken from him, and he 
 had been hurled into the wilderness — alone with Him whom he 
 "must learn to know if he would see Life. 
 
 Then self-consciousness went out, in those four years of his 
 captivity, and he passed from thence into consciousness of God. 
 
 Then his great world-knowledge he saw to have been wholly 
 untrue. His store of truth he saw to have been but relative at 
 best. His knowledge had rested, he then knew, upon view- 
 points which had been utterly false. And so, like Paul, he died 
 that he might live. He crucified Self, that he might resurrect 
 the image of God. 
 
 "The world," resumed Hitt, "still worships false gods, 
 though it reaches out for Truth. And yet, what are we all 
 seeking? Only a state of consciousness, a consciousness of 
 good, of joy and harmony. And we are seeking to rid ourselves 
 of the consciousness of evil, with its sin, its disease and death. 
 But, knowing now that consciousness is mental activity, the 
 activity of thought, can we not see that harmony and immor- 
 tality are within our grasp? for they are functions of right 
 thought. Salvation is not from evil realities, but from the false 
 sense of evil, even as Jesus taught and proved. The only salva- 
 tion possible to mankind is in learning to think as Jesus did^- 
 not yielding our mentalities daily to a hodge-podge of mixed 
 thoughts of good and evil, and. then running to doctors and 
 preachers when such yielding brings its inevitable result in 
 sickness and death. Jesus insisted that the kingdom of heaven 
 
 263 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 was -within men, a tremendous potentiality within each one of 
 us. How may it be readied? By removing hampering false 
 belief, by removing the limitations of superstition and human 
 opinion which hold its portals closed. True progress is the 
 release of mankind from materialism, with its enslaving 
 drudgery, its woes, and its inevitable death. Mankind's chief 
 difficulty is ignorance of what God is. Jesus proved Him to be 
 mind, spirit. He proved Him to be the creator of the spiritual 
 universe, but not the originator of the lie of materiality. He 
 showed matter to be but the manifestation of the false belief 
 that creation is material. He showed it to be but a sense- 
 impression, without life, without stability, without existence, 
 except the pseudo-existence which it has in the false thought 
 of which the human or carnal consciousness is formed. But 
 the lack of understanding of the real nature of matter, and the 
 persistent belief in the stability of its so-called laws, has re- 
 sulted in centuries of attempts to discredit the Bible records 
 of his spiritual demonstrations of God's omnipotence and im- 
 manence, and so has prevented the human mind from accepting 
 the proofs which it so eagerly sought. And now^ after nineteen 
 centuries of so-called Christian teaching, the human mind 
 remains still deeply embedded in matter, and subject to the 
 consentaneous human beliefs which it calls material laws. 
 Jesus showed that it was the communal mortal mind, with its 
 false beliefs in matter, sin, disease, and death, that constituted 
 'the flesh'; he showed that mortals are begotten of such false 
 beliefs; he showed that the material universe is but manifested 
 human belief. And we know from our own reasoning that we 
 see not things, but our thoughts of things; that we deal not 
 with matter, but with material mental concepts only. We 
 know that the preachers have woefully missed the mark, and 
 that the medicines of the doctors have destroyed more lives 
 than wars and famine, and yet will we not learn of the Master? 
 To reach God through material thinking is utterly impossible, 
 for He is spirit, and He can be cognized only by a spiritual 
 consciousness. Yet such a consciousness is ours, if we will 
 but have it. 
 
 "Ah, friends, God said : Let US make man in OUR image and 
 likeness — let Life, Love, Spirit make its spiritual reflection. 
 But where is that man to-day? Buried deep beneath the dogma 
 and the crystallized human beliefs of mortals — ^buried beneath 
 'the lie' which mankind accept about truth. Nothing but scien- 
 tific religion will meet humanity's dire needs and reveal that 
 man. And scientific religion admitsof actual, practical proof. 
 Christianity is as scientific as mathematics, and quite as ca- 
 pable of demonstration. Its proofs lie in doing the works of the 
 
 264 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Master. He is a Christian who does these works ; he who does 
 not is none. Christianity is not a failure, but organized ecclesi- 
 asticism, which always collapses before a world crisis, has 
 failed utterly. The hideous chicane of imperial government 
 and imperial religion against mankind has resulted in a 
 Christian veneer, which cracks at the first test and reveals the 
 unchanged human brute beneath. The nations which writhe 
 in deadly embrace to-day have never sought to prove God. 
 Th^y but emphasize the awful fact that the human mind has 
 no grasp upon the Principle which is God, and at a time of 
 crisis reverts almost instantly to the primitive, despite so-called 
 culture and civilization. Yes, religion as a perpetuation of 
 ancient human conceptions, of materialistic traditions and 
 opinions of 'the Fathers,' is a flat failure. By it the people of 
 great nations have been molded into servile submission to 
 church and ruler — have been persuaded that wretchedness and 
 poverty are eternal — that heaven is a realm beyond the grave, 
 to which admission is a function of outward oblation-^and that 
 surcease from ills here, or in the life to come, is a gift of the 
 Church. Can we wonder that commercialism is mistaken by 
 nations for progress? That king and emperor still call upon 
 God to bless their barbaric attempts at. conquest? And that 
 human existence remains, what it has always, been, a ghastly 
 mockery of Life? 
 
 "Healing the sick by applied Christianity is not the attempt 
 to alter a mental concept; it is the bringing out of harmony 
 where before was discord. Evil can not be 'thought away.' 
 He who indulges evil only proves his belief in its reality and 
 power. Christian healing is not 'mental suggestion,' wherein 
 all thought is material. When evil thinking is overcome, then 
 the discords which result from it will disappear from conscious- 
 ness. That is the Christ-method. Behind all that the physical 
 senses seem to see, know, and feel, is the spiritual fact, perfect 
 and eternal. Jesus healed the sick by establishing this fact in 
 the human consciousness. And we must learn to do likewise. 
 The orthodox churches must learn it. They must cease from 
 the dust-man, whose breath is in his nostrils; they must cease 
 from preaching evil as an awful reality, permitted by God, or 
 existing despite Him; they must know it as Jesus bade all men 
 know it, as the lie about Truth. Then, by holding the divine 
 ideal before the human mind, they will cause that mentality 
 gradually to relinquish its false beliefs and copy the real. And 
 thus, step by step, changing from better to better beliefs* at 
 length the human mind will have completely substituted reality 
 for unreality, and will be no more, even in thought. The 'old 
 man' will have given place to the 'new.' This is the method of 
 
 265 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 Jesus. There is no other. Yes, for the present we reckon with 
 material symbols ; we have not yet fully learned their unreality. 
 But at length, if we are faithful, we shall lay them aside, and 
 know only Truth and its pure manifestations. 
 
 "Ah, my friends, how simple is Christianity ! It is summed 
 up in the Sermon on the Mount. Our salvation is in righteous- 
 ness. He who thinks right shall know things as they are. He 
 who thinks wrong shall seem to know them as they are not, 
 and shall pass his days in sore travail, even in wars, famine, 
 and utter misery. Then why not take up the demonstration of 
 Christianity in the spirit of joy and freedom from prejudice 
 with which we pursue our earthly studies, and as gladly, thank- 
 fully seek to prove it? For it, of all things, is worth while. It 
 alone is the true business of men. For if what we have 
 developed in our many talks regarding God, man, and the 
 mental nature of the universe and all things is true, then are 
 the things with which men now occupy themselves worth 
 while? No, decidedly no! But are the things which we have 
 developed true? Yes, for they can be and have been demon- 
 strated. Then, indeed, are we without excuse. Carmen has 
 shown us the way. No, she is not unnatural; she is only 
 divinely natural. She. has shown us what we all may become, 
 if we but will. She has shown us what we shall be able to do 
 when we are completely lost in accord with God, and recognize 
 no other life, substance, nor law than His. But— 
 
 " 'I form the light, and create darkness ; I make peace, and 
 create evil,' cried the prophet. Truth always has its supposi- 
 tional opposite! Choose ye then whom ye will serve. All is 
 subject to proof. Only that which is demonstrably true, not 
 after the change which we call death, but here this side of the 
 grave, can stand. The only test of a Christian is in the 'signs 
 following.' Without them his faith is but sterile human belief, 
 and his god but the distorted human concept whom kings 
 beseech to bless their slaughter. 
 
 "'Cease ye from man, whose breath is in his nostrils; for wherein 
 is be to be accounted of? 
 
 "'His breath goeth forth, he returneth to his earth; in that very- 
 day his thoughts perish. 
 
 " 'That which is born of the flesh is flesh ; and that which is born of 
 the Spirit is spirit. 
 
 " 'Wherefore henceforth know we no man after the flesh; yea, though 
 we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now henceforth know we him 
 no more.' " 
 
 The fire crackled briskly on the great hearth. Carmen rose 
 and turned off the light above them. All drew their chairs 
 about the cheery blaze. 
 
 Silence, sacred, holy, lay upon them. The rich man, now 
 
 266 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 possessing treasures beyond his wildest dreams, sat holding his 
 daughter's hand. Her other hand lay in Jose's. Sidney had 
 just entered; and Haynerd had sent word that he would join 
 them soon. 
 
 Then the silence was broken by the rich man. His voice 
 was unsteady and low. 
 
 "My friends, sorrow and joy fill my heart to-night. To the 
 first I am resigned; it is my due; and yet, were it greater, I 
 know not how I could live. But the joy — who can understand 
 it until he has passed through death into life ! This little girl's 
 mother knew not, nor did I, that she was royal born. Some- 
 times I wonder now if it is really so. And yet the evidence is 
 such that I can scarcely doubt. We met in the sun-kissed hills 
 of Granada; and we loved. Her old nurse was Argus-eyed; and 
 our meetings were such as only lovers can effect. , I was young, 
 wild, and my blood coursed like a torrent through my veins! 
 But I loved her, yes, base though I was, I loved her. And in 
 these years since I left her in that little house in Bogota, I have 
 suffered the agonies of the lost when her memory and my own 
 iniquity fell upon me and smote me sore — 
 
 "We were married in Spain, and the marriage was per- 
 formed by Padre Rafael de Rincon." 
 
 "My uncle!" cried the startled Jose.- 
 
 "And then we fled," continued Ames. "I was rich; I was 
 roaming the world, extending my vast business interests; and 
 I took her to Colombia, where I labored with the politicians in 
 Bogota to grant me timber and cattle concessions. We had a 
 cottage on the outskirts of the city, where we were happy. 
 With us lived her faithful old nurse, whom she wduld not 
 leave in Spain — 
 
 "Then, one day, came a cable message that my father had 
 died. The news transformed me. I knew I must return at 
 once to New York. But — I would not take a wife back with 
 me! Why, I know not. I was mad! And I kissed her tear- 
 stained face, and bade her wait, for I would return and make 
 her happy. And then — 
 
 "Months later I wrote to her, and, receiving no reply, I 
 caused inquiry to be made. But she had gone — whither, no one 
 knew. The old nurse, too, had disappeared. I never learned 
 that a woman had been left at Badillo to die. And she was not 
 known in Bogota. She was timid, and went out seldom. And 
 then — then I thought that a marriage here would strengthen my 
 position, for I was powerful and proud. 
 
 "Oh, the years that her sad face haunted me! I was mad, 
 mad ! I know not why, but when the Cossack was built I had 
 her portrait in glass set in the smoking room. And night after 
 
 267 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 night I have sat before it and cursed myself, and implored her 
 to forgive!" 
 
 "But— the locket?" said Father Waite. 
 
 "It came from Spain. I was Guillermo to her, and she 
 Dolores to me. But I had never forgotten it. Had Carmen ever 
 worn it in my presence I must have recognized it at once. Oh, 
 God, that she had! What would it not have saved!" 
 
 "Father!" The girl's arms were about his neck, 
 
 "But," said Ames, choking down his sorrow, "that man is 
 dead. He, like Goliath, fought Truth, and the Truth fell upon 
 him, crushing him to powder. The man who remains with you 
 now lives only in this little girl. And she has brought me my 
 own son, Sidney, and another, Josd. All that I have is theirs, 
 and they will give it to the world. I would that she could have 
 brought me that noble black man, Rosendo, who laid down his 
 beautiful life when he saw that his work was done. I learn 
 from my inquiries that he and Dona Maria lived with Don 
 Nicolas far up the Boque river during the troublous times 
 when Simiti was burned and devastated. And that, when the 
 troops had gone, they returned to their desolated home, and 
 died within a month of each other. What do I not owe to 
 them! And can my care of their daughter Ana and her little 
 son ever cancel the debt? Alas, no!" 
 
 Sidney turned to the man. "Father, does Jose know that 
 it was Kathleen whom he rescued from the Tiber in Rome, years 
 ago, and who caused him to lose his notebook?" 
 
 Another exclamation burst from Jose. Ames shook his 
 head. "No, Sidney, we had not told him. Ah, how small is 
 the world! And how inextricably bound together we all are! 
 And, Jos6, I have not told you that the woman who lived and 
 died alone in the limestone caves near Honda, and whose story 
 you had from Don Jorge in Simiti, was doubtless the faithful 
 old nurse of Dolores. My investigations .all but confirm it. 
 Padre Rafael de Rinc6n maintained her there." 
 
 Haynerd entered the room at that moment, and with him 
 came Miss Wall. 
 
 "Now," said Hitt softly, "the circle is complete. Carmen, 
 may I—" 
 
 The girl rose at once and went into the music room. Those 
 who remained sat in awed, expectant silence. Another presence 
 stole softly in, but they saw him not. Soon through the great 
 rooms and marble halls drifted the low, weird melody which 
 the girl had sung, long before, in the dreary Elwin school. 
 
 In the flickering light of the fire strange shapes took form; 
 and the shadows that danced on the walls silhouetted scenes 
 from the dimming past. From out their weird imagery rose a 
 
 268 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 single form. Into it passed the unseen presence. Slowly it rose 
 before them from out the shadows. It was black of fade, but its 
 wondrous heart which had cradled the nameless babe of 
 Badillo glistened like drifting snow. 
 
 The last sweet notes of the plaintive Indian lament fluttered 
 from the girl's lips, echoed among the marble pillars, and died 
 away down the distant corridors. She returned and bent over 
 her father with a tender caress. 
 
 Then the great black man in the shadows extended his arms 
 for a moment above them, and faded from their sight. There 
 was the sound of low weeping in the room. For 
 
 "these are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed 
 their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." 
 
 269 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 d buen precio, for a good price. 
 
 adios, good-bye. 
 
 adioscito, goo,d-bye (used among intimates). 
 
 alcalde, mayor, chief of village. 
 
 algarroba, the caroB-tree bean. 
 
 alpargates, hempen sandals. 
 
 americano, American. 
 
 amigo, amiga, friend. 
 
 anisado, liqUor made from anise-seed. 
 
 d proposito, by-the-bye, apropo. 
 
 arena, bull ring, circle where bull-fights are held. 
 
 arepa, corn cake baked in ashes. 
 
 arma blanca, steel arms, generally the machete. 
 
 arrasfra, or arrastre, a mining mill. 
 
 arreglo, arrangement. 
 
 arriba, above. 
 
 arroyo, ditch, small stream, creek. 
 
 asequia, gutter, conduit for water. 
 
 auto da fe, public punishment by the Holy Inquisition. 
 
 avispas, wasps. 
 
 ay de mi, ah me ! woe is me ! alas ! 
 
 bagre, fish from Lake Simiti, dried and salted. 
 
 baile, dance. 
 
 barra, bar of wood or iron. 
 
 batea, a wooden basin corresponding to the gold-pan. 
 
 bejuco, thin filament, growing on tropical trees. Also, vine. 
 
 bendita virgen. Blessed Virgin. 
 
 Men, well. 
 
 Men pues, well, then. 
 
 billetes, bank notes, government notes, paper money. 
 
 bodega, warehouse. Also, depot, supply house, cellar. 
 
 boga, boatman, rower. 
 
 boveda, vault, or arched enclosure. Burial vault, tomb. 
 
 bueno, good. 
 
 buen padre, good father. 
 
 cabildo, corporation of a town, town council. 
 
 calentura, fever. 
 
 camino real, royal road, highway. 
 
 canasto, Jarge basket, waste-basket. 
 
 cantina, saloon, public drinking place. 
 
 cano,. canal. 
 
 caoba, mahogany tree or wood. 
 
 capilla mayor, high altar, principal chapel. 
 
 capitdn, captain. 
 
 caramba, an interjection of no particular meaning. 
 
 cdrcel, jail. 
 
 cargadores, human pack-carriers, porters. 
 
 cartsima, dearest little girl. 
 
 carita, dear little girl. 
 
 1 
 
CARMEN ARIZ A 
 
 caro amigo, dear friend. 
 
 catalina, Katharine. 
 
 cayman, crocodile. 
 
 champdn, a native thatch-roofed river boat. 
 
 chiquita mia, my dearest little girl. 
 
 chiquito-a, dearest little one. 
 
 cielo, heaven. 
 
 cUnaga, a marsh or moor. Sometimes lake. 
 
 cierto, certain, sure, surely, certainly. 
 
 cochero, coachman, driver. 
 
 cola, a tropical non-alcoholic drink. 
 ry colera; cholera. 
 ^ colibri, humming bird. 
 
 comadre, friend, when used casually addressing a woman. 
 
 comjejen, white wood-eating ant. 
 
 compadre, friend, when used casually addressing a man. 
 
 conque, adios, "well, good-bye." 
 
 conque, hasta luego, "well, good-bye until we meet again." 
 
 conqueros, conquerors. 
 
 conquistador es, conquerors. 
 
 Cordilleras, chain or ridge of mountains. 
 
 corriente, right, correct. 
 
 costumbre del pais, national custom. 
 
 cura, priest. 
 
 de nada, don't mention it. 
 
 desaynno, breakfast. 
 
 dia, day. 
 
 diablo, devil. 
 J) dios arriba, God above! 
 
 dios mio, my God! 
 
 dios nos guarde, God preserve us! 
 
 dios y diablo, God and devil! 
 
 dique, canal, channel. 
 
 doncella, young woman. 
 
 el, the (masculine). 
 
 enamorada, infatuated one (female). 
 T^ en manos muertas, "in dead hands." 
 
 escapnlario, scapulary. 
 
 escritorio, writing desk. 
 
 feria, fair, festival. 
 
 F fiasco, failure. 
 fmca, farm. 
 flor, flower (pi. flares'), 
 garrafdn,. jug. 
 garrapata, wood-tick. 
 
 Ggarza, heron. 
 gracias, thanks, thank you. 
 guaquero, hunter of Indian graves. 
 guerrillas, band of guerrillas. 
 hacienda, farm. 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 H 
 
 J 
 
 hada, witch. 
 
 hermano, brother. 
 
 hermoso, beautiful. 
 
 hermosisimo-a, most beautiful. 
 
 hidalgo, nobleman. 
 
 hola! halloo! 
 
 hombre, man. 
 
 hostia, sacred wafer used in the mass. 
 
 iguana, large edible lizard. 
 
 infanta, Spanish princess. 
 
 jejen, gnat. 
 
 jipijapa, very fine woven straw, used in Panamd hats. 
 
 jipitera, child's disease, due to eating dirt. 
 
 la, the (feminine). 
 
 lianas, vines. 
 
 llanos, flat plains. 
 
 loado sea el huen dios, praised be the good God ! 
 
 loco, crazy, mad. 
 
 macana, a very hard, tough palm, used in hut construction. 
 
 machete, cane-knife, large knife used for trail-cutting. 
 
 machetero, trail-cutter. 
 
 madre de dios, mother of God. 
 
 maestro, master. 
 
 maldito, cursed, cursed one. 
 
 mantilla, head-scarf of lace. 
 
 mariposa, butterfly. 
 
 matador, bull-fighter who slays the bull with the sword. 
 
 medico, doctor. 
 
 mestizo, half-breed, 
 
 milagro, miracle. Also, small gold image, blessed by a 
 
 ' priest, and supposed to work a cure. 
 mora, bramble-bush. 
 
 mozo, waiter, servant, also young boy or man. 
 muchacho, boy. 
 mug Men, very well. 
 mug buenos dias, "good morning." 
 
 na, an expression of disagreement, disavowal, or demurral. 
 nada, nothing. 
 nada mas, nothing more. 
 nombre de dios, name of God. 
 ojald, "would to God!" "God grant!" 
 olla, pot, or kettle. Also, a stew of meat and vegetables. 
 oporto, port wine. 
 padre, father. Father, priest. 
 panela, the crude sugar of tropical America. 
 pantano, swamp. 
 pater-noster, the Lord's prayer. 
 patio, the interior court of a dwelling, yard, garden. 
 patrdn (naut.), cockswain of a boat. 
 pedn, day-laborer. 
 
 M 
 
 N 
 
 O 
 
CARMEN ARIZA 
 
 peso, dollar. 
 
 peso oro, a dollar in gold. 
 
 peso y medio, a dollar and a half. 
 
 petate, straw mat on ■which the poor people sleep. 
 
 plaga, plague, pestilence. 
 
 pldtano, plantain tree, or its fruit. 
 
 playa, shore, beach, strand. 
 
 Ppolicia, police. 
 por, for, by. 
 por dios, by God ! 
 
 por el amor del cielo, for the love of heaven! 
 por supuesto, of course. 
 posada, inn, hotel, restaurant. 
 pozo, well, pond, puddle. 
 pronto, soon, quickly. 
 pueblo, town, settlement, people. 
 quebrada, creek, small stream. 
 qud chiste, what a joke! 
 
 Qqui importa, what does it matter? 
 quemador, public square where heretics were burned. 
 
 queridito-a, dear little one. 
 
 quidn sabe, who knows? 
 
 real (reales), a silver coin, valued at 5, 10, or 12% cents. 
 T5 religion de dinero, a religion of money. 
 Jtv ruana, a cape worn by the poor males of tropical America. 
 
 rurales, country people, peasants, farmers. 
 
 sacristia, sacristy. 
 
 san benito, the garb worn by condemned heretics. 
 
 santa maria, Saint Mary. 
 
 santa virgen, the sainted Virgin. 
 
 santo dios, the blessed God! 
 _ selva, forest. 
 O seminario, seminary. 
 
 senora. Madam, Mrs., a mature woman, a married woman. 
 
 senorita. Miss, a young unmarried woman. 
 
 sepulcros, tombs, jgraves. 
 
 sierras, mountain chain. 
 
 siesta, the midday hour of rest, the hottest part of the day. 
 
 sobrinito, little nephew. 
 
 temprano, early. 
 
 terciana, inteirmittent fever. 
 
 tia, aunt. 
 
 tierra caliente, hot lands. 
 'J* tio mio, my uncle. 
 
 tiple, a small guitar. 
 
 toldo, awning, the mosquito netting hung over beds. 
 
 trago, tragito, a drink, a draught. 
 
 tumbOi tomb, grave. 
 
 Yya estd, v&monos, all ready, let's go! 
 yucca, or yuca, the yucca plant or its roots. 
 
 4 
 
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