CONTENTS
ATTHEMISSIONOFSANCARMEL
ABLUEGRASSPENELOPE
LEFTOUTONLONESTARMOUNTAIN
ATTHEMISSIONOFSANCARMEL
PROLOGUE
Itwasnoonofthe10thofAugust，1838。ThemonotonouscoastlinebetweenMontereyandSanDiegohadsetitshardoutlinesagainstthesteadyglareoftheCalifornianskyandthemetallicglitterofthePacificOcean。Thewearysuccessionofrounded，dome—likehillsobliteratedallsenseofdistance;therarewhalingvesselorstillrarertrader，driftingpast，sawnochangeintheserustyundulations，barrenofdistinguishingpeakorheadland，andbaldofwoodedcrestortimberedravine。Thewitheredranksofwildoatsgaveadullprocessionofuniformcolortothehills，unbrokenbyanyreliefofshadowintheirsmooth，roundcurves。Asfarastheeyecouldreach，seaandshoremetinonebleakmonotony，fleckedbynopassingcloud，stirredbynosignoflifeormotion。Evensoundwasabsent;theAngelus，rungfromtheinvisibleMissiontowerfarinland，wasdrivenbackagainbythesteadynorthwesttrades，thatforhalftheyearhadsweptthecoastlineandleftitabradedofallumbrageandcolor。
Buteventhismonotonysoongavewaytoachangeandanothermonotonyasuniformanddepressing。Thewesternhorizon，slowlycontractingbeforeawallofvapor，byfouro’clockhadbecomeamerecold，steelystripofsea，intowhichgraduallythenortherntrendofthecoastfadedandwaslost。Asthefogstolewithsoftstepsouthward，alldistance，space，character，andlocalityagainvanished;thehillsuponwhichthesunstillshoneborethesamemonotonousoutlinesasthosejustwipedintospace。Lastofall，beforetheredsunsanklikethedescendinghost，itgleameduponthesailsofatradingvesselcloseinshore。Itwasthelastobjectvisible。Adampbreathbreatheduponit，asofthandpassedovertheslate，thesharppencillingofthepicturefadedandbecameaconfusedgraycloud。
Thewindandwaves，too，wentdowninthefog;thenowinvisibleandhushedbreakersoccasionallysentthesurfoverthesandinaquickwhisper，withgraveintervalsofsilence，butwithnocontinuousmurmurasbefore。Inacurvingbightoftheshorethecreakingofoarsintheirrowlocksbegantobedistinctlyheard，buttheboatitself，althoughapparentlyonlyitslengthfromthesands，wasinvisible。
"Steady，now;wayenough。"Thevoicecamefromthesea，andwaslow，asifunconsciouslyaffectedbythefog。"Silence！"
Thesoundofakeelgratingthesandwasfollowedbytheorder，"Sternall！"fromtheinvisiblespeaker。
"Shallwebeachher？"askedanothervaguevoice。
"Notyet。Hailagain，andalltogether。"
"Ahhoy——oi——oi——oy！"
Therewerefourvoices，butthehailappearedweakandineffectual，likeacryinadream，andseemedhardlytoreachbeyondthesurfbeforeitwassuffocatedinthecreepingcloud。Asilencefollowed，butnoresponse。
"It’snousetobeachherandgoashoreuntilwefindtheboat，"
saidthefirstvoice，gravely;"andwe’lldothatifthecurrenthasbroughtherhere。Areyousureyou’vegottherightbearings？"
"Asnearasamancouldoffashorewithnotablastedpinttotakehisbearingsby。"
Therewasalongsilenceagain，brokenonlybytheoccasionaldipofoars，keepingtheinvisibleboat—headtothesea。
"Takemywordforit，lads，it’sthelastwe’llseeofthatboatagain，orofJackCranch，orthecaptain’sbaby。"
"ItDOESlookmightyqueerthatthepaintershouldslip。JackCranchain’tthemantotieagrannyknot。"
"Silence！"saidtheinvisibleleader。"Listen。"
Ahail，sofaintanduncertainthatitmighthavebeenthelong—
deferred，far—offechooftheirown，camefromthesea，abreastofthem。
"It’sthecaptain。Hehasn’tfoundanything，orhecouldn’tbesofarnorth。Hark！"
Thehailwasrepeatedagainfaintly，dreamily。Totheseamen’strainedearsitseemedtohaveanintelligentsignificance，forthefirstvoicegravelyresponded，"Aye，aye！"andthensaidsoftly，"Oars。"
Thewordwasfollowedbyasplash。Theoarsclickedsharplyandsimultaneouslyintherowlocks，thenmorefaintly，thenstillfainter，andthenpassedoutintothedarkness。
Thesilenceandshadowbothfelltogether;forhoursseaandshorewereimpenetrable。Yetattimestheairwassoftlymovedandtroubled，thesurroundinggloomfaintlylightenedaswithamistydawn，andthenwasdarkagain;ordrowsy，far—offcriesandconfusednoisesseemedtogrowoutofthesilence，and，whentheyhadattractedthewearyear，sankawayasinamockingdream，andshowedthemselvesunreal。Nebulousgatheringsinthefogseemedtoindicatestationaryobjectsthat，evenasonegazed，movedaway;
therecurringlapandrippleontheshinglesometimestookuponitselfthesemblanceoffaintarticulatelaughterorspokenwords。
Buttowardsmorningacertainmonotonousgratingonthesand，thathadformanyminutesalternatelycheatedandpiquedtheear，asserteditselfmorestrongly，andamoving，vacillatingshadowinthegloombecameanopaqueobjectontheshore。
Withthefirstraysofthemorninglightthefoglifted。Astheundrapedhillsonebyonebaredtheircoldbosomstothesun，thelonglineofcoaststruggledbacktolifeagain。Everythingwasunchanged，exceptthatastrandedboatlayuponthesands，andinitssternsheetsasleepingchild。
CHAPTERI。
The10thofAugust，1852，broughtlittlechangetothedullmonotonyofwind，fog，andtreelesscoastline。Onlytheseawasoccasionallyfleckedwithracingsailsthatoutstrippedtheold，slow—creepingtrader，orwasattimesstreakedandblurredwiththetrailingsmokeofasteamer。Therewereafewstrangefootprintsonthosevirginsands，andafreshtrack，thatledfromthebeachovertheroundedhills，droppedintotheboskyrecessesofahiddenvalleybeyondthecoastrange。
ItwasherethattherefectorywindowsoftheMissionofSanCarmelhadforyearslookeduponthereverseofthatmonotonouspicturepresentedtothesea。Itwasherethatthetradewinds，shornoftheirfuryandstrengthintheheated，oven—likeairthatrosefromthevalley，losttheirwearywayinthetangledrecessesofthewoodedslopes，andbreathedtheirlastatthefootofthestonecrossbeforetheMission。Itwasonthecrestofthoseslopesthatthefoghaltedandwalledinthesun—illuminedplainbelow;itwasinthisplainthatlimitlessfieldsofgrainclothedthefatadobesoil;heretheMissiongardensmiledoveritshedgesoffruitfulvines，andthroughtheleavesoffigandgnarledpeartrees：anditwasherethatFatherPedrohadlivedforfiftyyears，foundtheprospectgood，andhadsmiledalso。
FatherPedro’ssmilewasrare。HewasnotaLasCasas，noraJuniperoSerra，buthehadthedeepseriousnessofalldisciplesladenwiththeresponsiblewordingofagospelnottheirown。Andhissmilehadanecclesiasticalaswellasahumansignificance，thepleasantestobjectinhisprospectbeingthefairandcurlyheadofhisboyacolyteandchorister，Francisco，whichappearedamongthevines，andhissweetestpastoralmusic，thehighsopranohummingofachantwithwhichtheboyaccompaniedhisgardening。
Suddenlytheacolyte’schantchangedtoacryofterror。RunningrapidlytoFatherPedro’sside，hegraspedhissotana，andeventriedtohidehiscurlsamongitsfolds。
"’St！’st！"saidthePadre，disengaginghimselfwithsomeimpatience。"Whatnewalarmisthis？IsitLuzbelhidingamongourCatalanvines，oroneofthoseheathenAmericanosfromMonterey？Speak！"
"Neither，holyfather，"saidtheboy，thecolorstrugglingbackintohispalecheeks，andanapologetic，bashfulsmilelightinghiscleareyes。"Neither;butoh！suchagross，lethargictoad！Anditalmostleapeduponme。"
"Atoadleapeduponthee！"repeatedthegoodfatherwithevidentvexation。"Whatnext？Itellthee，child，thosefoolishfearsaremostunmeetforthee，andmustbeovercome，ifnecessary，withprayerandpenance。Frightenedbyatoad！BloodoftheMartyrs！
’Tislikeanyfoolishgirl！"
FatherPedrostoppedandcoughed。
"IamsayingthatnoChristianchildshouldshrinkfromanyofGod’sharmlesscreatures。AndonlylastweekthouwastdisdainfulofpoorMurieta’spig，forgettingthatSanAntoniohimselfdidelectonehisfaithfulcompanion，eveninglory。"
"Yes，butitwassofat，andsouncleanly，holyfather，"repliedtheyoungacolyte，"anditsmeltso。"
"Smeltso？"echoedthefatherdoubtfully。"Haveacare，child，thatthisisnotluxuriousnessofthesenses。Ihavenoticedoflateyougatherovermuchofrosesandsyringa，excellentintheirwayandinmoderation，butstillnottobecomparedwiththeflowerofHolyChurch，thelily。"
"Butliliesdon’tlookwellontherefectorytable，andagainsttheadobewall，"returnedtheacolyte，withapoutofaspoiltchild;
"andsurelytheflowerscannothelpbeingsweet，anymorethanmyrrhorincense。AndIamnotfrightenedoftheheathenAmericanoseitherNOW。Therewasasmalloneinthegardenyesterday，aboylikeme，andhespokekindlyandwithapleasantface。"
"Whatsaidhetothee，child？"askedFatherPedro，anxiously。
"Nay，thematterofhisspeechIcouldnotunderstand，"laughedtheboy，"butthemannerwasasgentleasthine，holyfather。"
"’St，child，"saidthePadreimpatiently。"Thylikingsareasunreasonableasthyfears。Besides，haveInottoldtheeitillbecomesachildofChristtochatterwiththosesonsofBelial？
Butcanstthounotrepeatthewords——theWORDShesaid？"hecontinuedsuspiciously。
"’TisaharshtonguetheAmericanosspeakintheirthroat，"repliedtheboy。"Buthesaid’Devilishnisse’and’pretty—as—a—girl，’andlookedatme。"
Thegoodfathermadetheboyrepeatthewordsgravely，andasgravelyrepeatedthemafterhimwithinfinitesimplicity。"Theyarebuthereticalwords，"herepliedinanswertotheboy’sinquiringlook;"itiswellyouunderstandnotEnglish。Enough。
Runaway，child，andbereadyfortheAngelus。Iwillcommunewithmyselfawhileunderthepeartrees。"
Gladtoescapesoeasily，theyoungacolytedisappeareddownthealleyoffigtrees，notwithoutafurtivelookatthepatchesofchickweedaroundtheirroots，thepossibleambuscadeofcreepingorsaltantvermin。Thegoodpriestheavedasighandglancedroundthedarkeningprospect。Thesunhadalreadydisappearedoverthemountainwallthatlaybetweenhimandthesea，rimmedwithafaintwhitelineofoutlyingfog。Acoolzephyrfannedhischeek;itwasthedyingbreathofthevientosgeneralesbeyondthewall。AsFatherPedro’seyeswereraisedtothisbarrier，whichseemedtoshutouttheboisterousworldbeyond，hefanciedhenoticedforthefirsttimeaslightbreachintheparapet，overwhichanadvancedbannerofthefogwasfluttering。Wasitanomen？Hisspeculationswerecutshortbyavoiceathisveryside。
Heturnedquicklyandbeheldoneofthose"heathens"againstwhomhehadjustwarnedhisyoungacolyte;oneofthatstragglingbandofadventurerswhomtherecentgolddiscoverieshadscatteredalongthecoast。Luckilythefertilealluviumofthesevalleys，lyingparallelwiththesea，offeredno"indications"toattractthegoldseekers。NeverthelesstoFatherPedroeventheinfrequentcontactwiththeAmericanoswasobjectionable;theywereatonceinquisitiveandcareless;theyaskedquestionswiththesharpperspicacityofcontroversy;theyreceivedhisgravereplieswiththefrankindifferenceofutterworldliness。Powerfulenoughtohavebeentyrannicaloppressors，theyweresingularlytolerantandgentle，contentingthemselveswithaplayful，good—naturedirreverence，whichtormentedthegoodfathermorethanopposition。
Theywerefelttobedangerousandsubversive。
TheAmericano，however，whostoodbeforehimdidnotoffensivelysuggestthesenationalqualities。Amanofmiddleheight，stronglybuilt，bronzedandslightlygrayfromthevicissitudesofyearsandexposure，hehadanairofpracticalseriousnessthatcommendeditselftoFatherPedro。Tohisreligiousminditsuggestedself—
consciousness;expressedinthedialectofthestrangeritonlymeant"business。"
"I’mrathergladIfoundyououtherealone，"beganthelatter;"itsavestime。Ihaven’tgottotakemyturnwiththerest，inthere"——heindicatedthechurchwithhisthumb——"andyouhaven’tgottomakeanappointment。YouhavegotaclearfortyminutesbeforetheAngelusrings，"headded，consultingalargesilverchronometer，"andIreckonIkingitthroughmypartofthejobinsideoftwenty，leavingyoutenminutesforremarks。Iwanttoconfess。"
FatherPedrodrewbackwithagestureofdignity。Thestranger，however，laidhishanduponthePadre’ssleevewiththeairofamananticipatingobjection，butneverrefusal，andwenton。
"Ofcourse，Iknow。Youwantmetocomeatsomeothertime，andinTHERE。Youwantitinthereg’larstyle。That’syourwayandyourtime。Myansweris：itain’tMYwayandMYtime。Themainideaofconfession，Itakeit，isgettin’atthefacts。I’mreadytogive’emifyou’lltake’emouthere，now。Ifyou’rewillingtodroptheChurchandconfessional，andallthatsorto’thing，I，onmyside，amwillingtogiveuptheabsolution，andallthatsorto’
thing。Youmight，"headded，withanunconscioustouchofpathosinthesuggestion，"heaveinawordortwoofadviceafterIgetthrough;forinstance，whatYOU’Ddointhecircumstances，yousee！
That’sall。Butthat’sasyouplease。Itain’tpartofthebusiness。"
Irreverentasthisspeechappeared，therewasreallynotraceofsuchintentioninhismanner，andhisevidentprofoundconvictionthathissuggestionwaspractical，andnotatallinconsistentwithecclesiasticaldignity，wouldalonehavebeenenoughtotouchthePadre，hadnotthestranger’sdominantpersonalityalreadyoverriddenhim。Hehesitated。Thestrangerseizedtheopportunitytotakehisarm，andleadhimwiththehalffamiliarityofpowerfulprotectiontoabenchbeneaththerefectorywindow。Takingouthiswatchagain，heputitinthepassivehandsoftheastonishedpriest，saying，"Timeme，"clearedhisthroat，andbegan：——
"Fourteenyearsagotherewasashipcruisin’inthePacific，jestoffthisrange，thatwaseznighontoaHellafloatasanythingriggedkinbe。Ifachapmanagedtododgethecap’en’sbelayin—pinforatime，hewasboundtobefetchedupintheribsatlastbythemate’sboots。TherewasachapknockeddowntheforehatchwithabrokenlegintheGulf，andanotherjumpedoverboardoffCapeCorrientes，crazyasaloon，alongaclipoftheheadfromthecap’en’strumpet。Them’sfacts。Theshipwasabrigantine，tradingalongtheMexicancoast。Thecap’enhadhiswifeaboard，alittletimidMexicanwomanhe’dpickedupatMazatlan。Ireckonshedidn’tgetonwithhimanybetterthanthemen，forsheupsanddiesoneday，leavin’herbaby，ayear—oldgal。Oneofthecrewwasfondo’thatbaby。Heusedtogettheblacknursetoputitinthedingy，andhe’dtowitastern，rockingitwiththepainterlikeacradle。Hedidit——hatin’thecap’enallthesame。Onedaytheblacknursegotoutofthedingyforamoment，whenthebabywasasleep，leavin’himalonewithit。Anideatookholdonhim，jestfromcussedness，you’dsay，butitwaspartlyfromrevengeonthecap’enandpartlytogetawayfromtheship。Theshipwaswellinshore，andthecurrentsettin’towardsit。Heslippedthepainter——thatman——andsethimselfadriftwiththebaby。Itwasacrazyact，you’dreckon，fortherewasn’tanyoarsintheboat;buthehadacrazyman’sluck，andhecontrived，byscullingtheboatwithoneoftheseatshetoreout，tokeepheroutofthebreakers，tillhecouldfindabightintheshoretorunherin。Thealarmwasgivenfromtheship，butthefogshutdownuponhim;hecouldheartheotherboatsinpursuit。Theyseemedtocloseinonhim，andbythesoundhejudgedthecap’enwasjustabreastofhiminthegig，bearingdownuponhiminthefog。Heslippedoutofthedingyintothewaterwithoutasplash，andstruckoutforthebreakers。Hegotashoreafterhavin’beenknockeddownanddraggedinfourtimesbytheundertow。Hehadonlyoneideathen，thankfulnessthathehadnottakenthebabywithhiminthesurf。
Youkinputthatdownforhim：it’safact。Hegotoffintothehills，andmadehiswayuptoMonterey。"
"Andthechild？"askedthePadre，withasuddenandstrangeasperitythatbodednogoodtothepenitent;"thechildthusruthlesslyabandoned——whatbecameofit？"
"That’sjustit，thechild，"assentedthestranger，gravely。
"Well，ifthatmanwasonhisdeath—bedinsteadofbeingheretalkingtoyou，he’dswearthathethoughtthecap’enwassuretocomeuptoitthenextminit。That’safact。Butitwasn’tuntilonedaythathe——that’sme——ranacrossoneofthatcrewinFrisco。
’Hallo，Cranch，’sezhetome，’soyougotaway，didn’tyou？Andhow’sthecap’en’sbaby？Grownayounggalbythistime，ain’tshe？’’Whatareyoutalkinabout，’ezI;’howshouldIknow？’Hedrawsawayfromme，andsez，’D———it，’sezhe，’youdon’tmeanthatyou’……Igrabshimbythethroatandmakeshimtellmeall。Andthenitappearsthattheboatandthebabywereneverfoundagain，andeverymanofthatcrew，cap’enandall，believedI
hadstolenit。"
Hepaused。FatherPedrowasstaringattheprospectwithanuncompromisingrigidityofheadandshoulder。
"It’sabadlookoutforme，ain’tit？"thestrangercontinued，inseriousreflection。
"HowdoIknow，"saidthepriestharshly，withoutturninghishead，"thatyoudidnotmakeawaywiththischild？"
"Begpardon。"
"Thatyoudidnotcompleteyourrevengeby——by——killingit，asyourcomradesuspectedyou？Ah！HolyTrinity，"continuedFatherPedro，throwingouthishandswithanimpatientgesture，asiftotaketheplaceofunutterablethought。
"HowdoYOUknow？"echoedthestrangercoldly。
"Yes。"
Thestrangerlinkedhisfingerstogetherandthrewthemoverhisknee，drewituptohischestcaressingly，andsaidquietly，"BecauseyouDOknow。"
ThePadrerosetohisfeet。
"Whatmeanyou？"hesaid，sternlyfixinghiseyesuponthespeaker。
Theireyesmet。Thestranger’sweregrayandpersistent，withhangingcornerlidsthatmighthaveconcealedevenmorepurposethantheyshowed。ThePadre’swerehollow，open，andthewhitesslightlybrown，asifwithtobaccostains。Yettheywerethefirsttoturnaway。
"Imean，"returnedthestranger，withthesamepracticalgravity，"thatyouknowitwouldn’tpaymetocomehere，ifI’dkilledthebaby，unlessIwantedyoutofixthingsrightwithmeupthere，"
pointingskywards，"andgetabsolution;andI’vetoldyouTHAT
wasn’tinmyline。"
"Whydoyouseekme，then？"demandedthePadre，suspiciously。
"BecauseIreckonIthoughtamanmightbeallowedtoconfesssomethingshortofamurder。Ifyou’regoingtodrawthelinebelowthat——"
"Thisisbutsacrilegiouslevity，"interruptedFatherPedro，turningasiftogo。Butthestrangerdidnotmakeanymovementtodetainhim。
"Haveyouimploredforgivenessofthefather——themanyouwronged——
beforeyoucamehere？"askedthepriest，lingering。
"Notmuch。Itwouldn’tpayifhewasliving，andhediedfouryearsago。"
"Youaresureofthat？"
"Iam。"
"Thereareotherrelations，perhaps？"
"None。"
FatherPedrowassilent。Whenhespokeagain，itwaswithachangedvoice。"Whatisyourpurpose，then？"heasked，withthefirstindicationofpriestlysympathyinhismanner。"Youcannotaskforgivenessoftheearthlyfatheryouhaveinjured，yourefusetheintercessionofholyChurchwiththeHeavenlyFatheryouhavedisobeyed。Speak，wretchedman！Whatisityouwant？"
"Iwanttofindthechild。"
"Butifitwerepossible，ifshewerestillliving，areyoufittoseekher，toevenmakeyourselfknowntoher，toappearbeforeher？"
"Well，ifImadeitprofitabletoher，perhaps。"
"Perhaps，"echoedthepriest，scornfully。"Sobeit。Butwhycomehere？"
"Toaskyouradvice。Toknowhowtobeginmysearch。Youknowthiscountry。Youwereherewhenthatboatdriftedashorebeyondthatmountain。"
"Ah，indeed。Ihavemuchtodowithit。Itisanaffairofthealcalde——theauthorities——ofyour——yourpolice。"
"Isit？"
ThePadreagainmetthestranger’seyes。Hestopped，withthesnuffboxhehadsomewhatostentatiouslydrawnfromhispocketstillopeninhishand。
"Whyisitnot，Senor？"hedemanded。
"Ifshelives，sheisayoungladybythistime，andmightnotwantthedetailsofherlifeknowntoanyone。"
"Andhowwillyourecognizeyourbabyinthisyounglady？"askedFatherPedro，witharapidgesture，indicatingthecomparativeheightsofababyandanadult。
"IreckonI’llknowher，andherclothestoo;andwhoeverfoundherwouldn’tbefoolenoughtodestroythem。"
"Afterfourteenyears！Good！youhavefaith，Senor——"
"Cranch，"suppliedthestranger，consultinghiswatch。"Buttime’sup。Businessisbusiness。Good—by;don’tletmekeepyou。"
Heextendedhishand。
ThePadremetitwithadry，unsympatheticpalm，assereandyellowasthehills。Whentheirhandsseparated，thefatherstillhesitated，lookingatCranch。Ifheexpectedfurtherspeechorentreatyfromhimhewasmistaken，fortheAmerican，withoutturninghishead，walkedinthesameserious，practicalfashiondowntheavenueoffigtrees，anddisappearedbeyondthehedgeofvines。Theoutlinesofthemountainbeyondwerealreadylostinthefog。FatherPedroturnedintotherefectory。
"Antonio。"
Astrongflavorofleather，onions，andstableprecededtheentranceofashort，stoutvaquerofromthelittlepatio。
"SaddlePintoandthineownmuletoaccompanyFrancisco，whowilltakelettersfrommetotheFatherSuperioratSanJoseto—morrowatdaybreak。"
"Atdaybreak，reverendfather？"
"Atdaybreak。Harkye，gobythemountaintrailsandavoidthehighway。Stopatnoposadanorfonda，butifthechildisweary，restthenawhileatDonJuanBriones’orattheranchooftheBlessedFisherman。Havenoconversewithstragglers，leastofallthosegentileAmericanos。So……"
ThefirststrokesoftheAngeluscamefromthenearertower。WithagestureFatherPedrowavedAntonioaside，andopenedthedoorofthesacristy。
"AdMajoremDeiGloria。"
CHAPTERII
ThehaciendaofDonJuanBriones，nestlinginawoodedcleftofthefoot—hills，washidden，asFatherPedrohadwiselyreflected，fromthestrayingfeetoftravelersalongthedustyhighwaytoSanJose。
AsFrancisco，emergingfromthecanada，putspurstohismuleatthesightofthewhitewashedwalls，Antoniogrunted。
"Ohaye，littlepriest！thouwasttiredenoughamomentago，andthoughwearenotthreeleaguesfromtheBlessedFisherman，thoucouldstscarcesitthysaddlelonger。MotherofGod！andalltoseethatlittlemongrel，Juanita。"
"But，goodAntonio，Juanitawasmyplay—fellow，andImaynotsoonagainchancethisway。AndJuanitaisnotamongrel，nomorethanIam。"
"Sheisamestiza，andthouartachildoftheChurch，thoughthisfollowingofgypsywenchesdoesnotshowit。"
"ButFatherPedrodoesnotobject，"urgedtheboy。
"Thereverendfatherhasforgottenhewaseveryoung，"repliedAntonio，sententiously，"orhewouldn’tsetfireandtowtogether。"
"Whatsayestthou，goodAntonio？"askedFranciscoquickly，openinghisblueeyesinfrankcuriosity;"whoisfire，andwhoistow？"
Theworthymuleteer，utterlyabashedandconfoundedbythisdisplayoftheacolyte’sdirectsimplicity，contentedhimselfbyshrugginghisshoulders，andavague"Quiensabe？"
"Come，"saidtheboy，gayly，"confessitisonlytheaguardienteoftheBlessedFishermanthoumissest。Neverfear，Juanitawillfindtheesome。Andsee！hereshecomes。"
Therewasaflashofwhiteflouncesalongthedarkbrowncorridor，thetwinkleofsatinslippers，theflyingoutoflongblackbraids，andwithacryofjoyayounggirlthrewherselfuponFranciscoasheenteredthepatio，andnearlydraggedhimfromhismule。
"Haveacare，littlesister，"laughedtheacolyte，lookingatAntonio，"ortherewillbeaconflagration。AmIthefire？"hecontinued，submittingtothetwosoundingkissestheyounggirlplaceduponeithercheek，butstillkeepinghismischievousglanceuponthemuleteer。
"Quiensabe？"repeatedAntonio，gruffly，astheyounggirlblushedunderhissignificanteyes。"Itisnoaffairofmine，"headdedtohimself，asheledPintoaway。"PerhapsFatherPedroisright，andthisyoungtwigoftheChurchisasdryandsaplessashimself。
Letthemestizaburnifshelikes。"
"Quick，Pancho，"saidtheyounggirl，eagerlyleadinghimalongthecorridor。"Thisway。ImusttalkwiththeebeforethouseestDonJuan;thatiswhyIrantointerceptthee，andnotasthatfoolAntoniowouldsignify，toshamethee。Wastthouashamed，myPancho？"
Theboythrewhisarmfamiliarlyroundthesupple，staylesslittlewaist，accentedonlybythebeltofthelightflouncedsaya，andsaid，"Butwhythishasteandfeverishness，’Nita？AndnowIlookatthee，thouhastbeencrying。"
Theyhademergedfromadoorinthecorridorintothebrightsunlightofawalledgarden。Thegirldroppedhereyes，castaquickglancearoundher，andsaid，——
"Nothere，tothearroyo，"andhalfleading，halfdragginghim，madeherwaythroughacopseofmanzanitaandalderuntiltheyheardthefainttinklingofwater。"Dostthouremember，"saidthegirl，"itwashere，"pointingtoanembayedpoolinthedarkcurrent，"thatIbaptizedthee，whenFatherPedrofirstbroughttheehere，whenwebothplayedatbeingmonks？Theyweredearolddays，forFatherPedrowouldtrustnoonewiththeebutme，andalwayskeptusnearhim。"
"AyeandhesaidIwouldbeprofanedbythetouchofanyother，andsohimselfalwayswashedanddressedme，andmademybednearhis。"
"Andtooktheeawayagain，andIsawtheenottillthoucamestwithAntonio，overayearago，tothecattlebranding。Andnow，myPancho，Imayneverseetheeagain。"Sheburiedherfaceinherhandsandsobbedaloud。
Thelittleacolytetriedtocomforther，butwithsuchabstractionofmannerandinadequacyofwarmththatshehastilyremovedhiscaressinghand。
"Butwhy？Whathashappened？"heaskedeagerly。
Thegirl’smannerhadchanged。Hereyesflashed，andsheputherbrownfistonherwaistandbegantorockfromsidetoside。
"ButI’llnotgo，"shesaidviciously。
"Gowhere？"askedtheboy。
"Oh，where？"sheechoed，impatiently。"Hearme，Francisco;thouknowestIam，likethee，anorphan;butIhavenot，likethee，aparentintheHolyChurch。For，alas，"sheadded，bitterly，"Iamnotaboy，andhavenotalovelyvoiceborrowedfromtheangels。I
was，likethee，afoundling，keptbythecharityofthereverendfathers，untilDonJuan，achildlesswidower，adoptedme。Iwashappy，notknowingandcaringwhoweretheparentswhohadabandonedme，happyonlyintheloveofhimwhobecamemyadoptedfather。Andnow——"Shepaused。
"Andnow？"echoedFrancisco，eagerly。
"Andnowtheysayitisdiscoveredwhoaremyparents。"
"Andtheylive？"
"MotherofGod！no，"saidthegirl，withscarcelyfilialpiety。
"Thereissomeone，athing，amereDonFulano，whoknowsitall，itseems，whoistobemyguardian。"
"Buthow？tellmeall，dearJuanita，"saidtheboywithafeverishinterest，thatcontrastedsostronglywithhispreviousabstractionthatJuanitabitherlipswithvexation。
"Ah！How？SantaBarbara！anextravaganzaforchildren。A
necklaceoflies。Iamlostfromashipofwhichmyfather——Heavenresthim——isGeneral，andIampickedupamongtheweedsonthesea—shore，likeMosesinthebulrushes。Aprettystory，indeed。"
"Oh，howbeautiful！"exclaimedFrancisco，enthusiastically。"Ah，Juanita，wouldithadbeenme。"
"THEE！"saidthegirlbitterly，——"thee！No！——itwasagirlwanted。
Enough，itwasme。"
"Andwhendoestheguardiancome？"persistedtheboy，withsparklingeyes。
"Heishereevennow，withthatpompousfooltheAmericanalcaldefromMonterey，awretchwhoknowsnothingofthecountryorthepeople，butwhohelpedtheotherAmericantoclaimme。Itellthee，Francisco，likeasnotitisallafolly，somesenselessblunderofthoseAmericanosthatimposesuponDonJuan’ssimplicityandloveforthem。"
"Howlookshe，thisAmericanowhoseeksthee？"askedFrancisco。
"WhatcareIhowhelooks，"saidJuanita，"orwhatheis？HemayhavethefourS’s，forallIcare。Yet，"sheaddedwithaslighttouchofcoquetry，"heisnotbadtolookupon，nowIrecallhim。"
"Hadhealongmoustacheandasad，sweetsmile，andavoicesogentleandyetsostrongthatyoufeltheorderedyoutodothingswithoutsayingit？Anddidhiseyereadyourthoughts？——thatverythoughtthatyoumustobeyhim？"
"Saintspreservethee，Pancho！Ofwhomdostthouspeak？"
"Listen，Juanita。Itwasayearago，theeveofNatividad，hewasinthechurchwhenIsang。LookwhereIwould，Ialwaysmethiseye。WhenthecanticlewassungandIwasslippingintothesacristy，hewasbesideme。Hespokekindly，butIunderstoodhimnot。Heputintomyhandgoldforanaguinaldo。IpretendedI
understoodnotthatalso，andputitintotheboxforthepoor。Hesmiledandwentaway。OftenhaveIseenhimsince，andlastnight，whenIlefttheMission，hewasthereagainwithFatherPedro。"
"AndFatherPedro，whatsaidheofhim？"askedJuanita。
"Nothing。"Theboyhesitated。"Perhaps——becauseIsaidnothingofthestranger。"
Juanitalaughed。"Sothoucanstkeepasecretfromthegoodfatherwhenthoucarest。Butwhydostthouthinkthisstrangerismynewguardian？"
"Dostthounotsee，littlesister？hewaseventhenseekingthee，"
saidtheboywithjoyousexcitement。"Doubtlessheknewwewerefriendsandplaymates——maybethegoodfatherhastoldhimthysecret。Foritisnoidletaleofthealcalde，believeme。Iseeitall！Itistrue！"
"Thenthouwiltlethimtakemeaway，"exclaimedthegirlbitterly，withdrawingthelittlehandhehadclaspedinhisexcitement。
"Alas，Juanita，whatavailsitnow？IamsenttoSanJose，chargedwithalettertotheFatherSuperior，whowillgivemefurtherorders。Whattheyare，orhowlongImuststay，Iknownot。ButI
knowthis：thegoodFatherPedro’seyesweretroubledwhenhegavemehisblessing，andheheldmelonginhisembrace。PrayHeavenI
havecommittednofault。StillitmaybethatthereputationofmygifthathreachedtheFatherSuperior，andhewouldadvanceme。"
AndFrancisco’seyeslitupwithyouthfulprideatthethought。
NotsoJuanita。Herblackeyessnappedsuddenlywithsuspicion，shedrewinherbreath，andclosedherlittlemouthfirmly。Thenshebeganacrescendo。
MotherofGod！wasthatall？Washeachild，tobesentawayforsuchtimeorforsuchpurposeasbestpleasedthefathers？Washetoknownomorethanthat？WithsuchgiftsasGodhadgivenhim，washenotatleasttohavesomewordindisposingofthem？Ah！
SHEwouldnotstandit。
Theboygazedadmiringlyatthepiquantenergyofthelittlefigurebeforehim，andenviedhercourage。"Itisthemestizoblood，"hemurmuredtohimself。Thenaloud，"Thoushouldsthavebeenaman，’Nita。"
"Andthouawoman。"
"Orapriest。Eh，whatisthat？"
Theyhadbothrisen，Juanitadefiantly，herblackbraidsflyingasshewheeledandsuddenlyfacedthethicket，Franciscoclingingtoherwithtremblinghandsandwhitenedlips。Astone，loosenedfromthehillside，hadrolledtotheirfeet;therewasacracklinginthealdersontheslopeabovethem。
"Isitabear，orabrigand？"whisperedFrancisco，hurriedly，soundingtheuttermostdepthsofhisterrorinthetwowords。
"Itisaneavesdropper，"saidJuanita，impetuously;"andwhoandwhy，Iintendtoknow，"andshestartedtowardsthethicket。
"Donotleaveme，goodJuanita，"saidtheyoungacolyte，graspingthegirl’sskirt。
"Nay;runtothehaciendaquickly，andleavemetosearchthethicket。Run！"
Theboydidnotwaitforasecondinjunction，butscuttledaway，hislongcoatcatchinginthebrambles，whileJuanitadartedlikeakittenintothebushes。Hersearchwasfruitless，however，andshewasreturningimpatientlywhenherquickeyefelluponaletterlyingamidstthedriedgrasswheresheandFranciscohadbeenseatedthemomentbefore。Ithadevidentlyfallenfromhisbreastwhenhehadrisensuddenly，andbeenoverlookedinhisalarm。ItwasFatherPedro’slettertotheFatherSuperiorofSanJose。
Inaninstantshehadpounceduponitasviciouslyasifithadbeentheinterlopershewasseeking。SheknewthatsheheldinherfingersthesecretofFrancisco’ssuddenbanishment。Shefeltinstinctivelythatthisyellowishenvelope，withitsredstringanditsblotchofredseal，washissentenceandherown。Thelittlemestizahadnotbeenbroughtuptorespecttheintegrityofeitherlocksorseals，bothbeingunknowninthepatriarchallifeofthehacienda。Yetwithacertainfeminineinstinctshelookedfurtivelyaroundher，andevenmanagedtodislodgetheclumsywaxwithoutmarringtheprettyeffigyofthecrossedkeysimpresseduponit。Thensheopenedtheletterandread。
Suddenlyshestoppedandputbackherhairfromherbrowntemples。
Thenasuccessionofburningblushesfollowedeachotherinwavesfromherneckup，anddiedindropsofmoistureinhereyes。Thiscontinueduntilshewasfairlycrying，droppingtheletterfromherhandsandrockingtoandfro。Inthemidstofthisshequicklystoppedagain;thecloudsbroke，asunshineoflaughterstartedfromhereyes，shelaughedshyly，shelaughedloudly，shelaughedhysterically。Thenshestoppedagainassuddenly，knittedherbrows，swoopeddownoncemoreupontheletter，andturnedtofly。
Butatthesamemomenttheletterwasquietlybutfirmlytakenfromherhand，andMr。JackCranchstoodbesideher。
Juanitawascrimson，butunconquered。Shemechanicallyheldoutherhandfortheletter;theAmericantookherlittlefingers，kissedthem，andsaid：——
"Howareyouagain？"
"Theletter，"repliedJuanita，withastrongdispositiontostampherfoot。
"But，"saidCranch，withbusinessdirectness，"you’vereadenoughtoknowitisn’tforyou。"
"Norforyoueither，"respondedJuanita。
"True。ItisfortheReverendFatherSuperiorofSanJoseMission。
I’llgiveittohim。"
Juanitawasbecomingalarmed，firstatthisprospect，secondatthepowerthestrangerseemedtobegainingoverher。SherecalledFrancisco’sdescriptionofhimwithsomethinglikesuperstitiousawe。
"ButitconcernsFrancisco。Itcontainsasecretheshouldknow。"
"Thenyoucantellhimit。Perhapsitwouldcomeeasierfromyou。"
Juanitablushedagain。"Why？"sheasked，halfdreadinghisreply。
"Because，"saidtheAmerican，quietly，"youareoldplaymates;youareattachedtoeachother。"
Juanitabitherlips。"Whydon’tyoureadityourself？"sheaskedbluntly。
"BecauseIdon’treadotherpeople’sletters，andifitconcernsmeyou’lltellme。"
"WhatifIdon’t？"
"ThentheFatherSuperiorwill。"
"IbelieveyouknowFrancisco’ssecretalready，"saidthegirl，boldly。
"Perhaps。"
"Then，MotherofGod！SenorCrancho，whatdoyouwant？"
"IdonotwanttoseparatetwosuchgoodfriendsasyouandFrancisco。"
"Perhapsyou’dliketoclaimusboth，"saidthegirl，withasneerthatwasnotdevoidofcoquetry。
"Ishouldbedelighted。"
"Thenhereisyouroccasion，Senor，forherecomesmyadoptedfather，DonJuan，andyourfriend，SenorBr——r——own，theAmericanalcalde。"
Twomenappearedinthegardenpathbelowthem。Thestiff，glazed，broad—brimmedblackhat，surmountingadarkfaceofQuixoticgravityandromanticrectitude，indicatedDonJuanBriones。Hiscompanion，lazy，specious，andred—faced，wasSenorBrown，theAmericanalcalde。
"Well，Ireckonwekinaboutcallthethingfixed，"saidSenorBrown，withalargewaveofthehand，suggestingasweepingawayofalltrivialdetails。"EzIwassayingtotheDonyer，whentwohigh—tonedgentslikeyouandhimcometogetherinadelicatematterofthiskind，itain’tnohosstradenorsharppractice。
TheDonisthatloftyinprinciplethathe’swillin’tosacrificehisaffectionsforthegoodofthegal;andyou，onyourhand，kalkilatetoseeallhe’sdoneforher，andgoyourwholepilebetter。You’llmakethelegalformalitiesgood。IreckonthatoldInjinwomanwhocansweartothefindingofthebabyontheshorewillsetthingsallrightyet。Forthemattero’that，ifyouwantanythinginthewayofacertificate，I’monhandalways。"
"Juanitaandmyselfareatyourdisposition，caballeros，"saidDonJuan，withagraveexaltation。"NeverletitbesaidthattheMexicannationwasoutdonebythegreatAmericanosindeedsofcourtesyandaffection。LetitratherstandthatJuanitawasasacredtrustputintomyhandsyearsagobythegoddessofAmericanliberty，andnurturedintheMexicaneagle’snest。Isitnotso，mysoul？"headded，morehumanly，tothegirl，whenhehadquiterecoveredfromtheintoxicationofhisownspeech。"Welovethee，littleone，butwekeepourhonor。"
"There’snothingmeanabouttheoldman，"saidBrown，admiringly，withaslightdroppingofhislefteyelid;"hisheadislevel，andhegoeswithhisparty。"
"Thoutakestmydaughter，SenorCranch，"continuedtheoldman，carriedawaybyhisemotion;"buttheAmericannationgivesmeason。"
"Youknownotwhatyousay，father，"saidtheyounggirl，angrily，exasperatedbyaslighttwinkleintheAmerican’seye。
"Notso，"saidCranch。"PerhapsoneoftheAmericannationmaytakehimathisword。"
"Then，caballeros，youwill，forthemomentatleast，possessyourselvesofthehouseanditspoorhospitality，"saidDonJuan，withtime—honoredcourtesy，producingtherustickeyofthegateofthepatio。"Itisatyourdisposition，caballeros，"herepeated，leadingthewayashisguestspassedintothecorridor。
Twohourspassed。Thehillsweredarkeningontheireasternslopes;theshadowsofthefewpoplarsthatsparsedlydottedthedustyhighwaywerefallinginlongblacklinesthatlookedlikeditchesonthedeadlevelofthetawnyfields;theshadowsofslowlymovingcattlewereminglingwiththeirownsilhouettes，andbecomingmoreandmoregrotesque。Akeenwindrisinginthehillswasalreadycreepingfromthecanadaasfromthemouthofafunnel，andsweepingtheplains。Antoniohadforgatheredwiththeservants，hadpinchedtheearsofthemaids，hadpartakenofaguardiente，hadsaddledthemules，——Antoniowasbecomingimpatient。
AndthenasingularcommotiondisturbedthepeacefulmonotonyofthepatriarchalhouseholdofDonJuanBriones。Thestagnantcourtyardwassuddenlyalivewithpeonsandservants，runninghitherandthither。Thealleysandgardenswerefilledwithretainers。Aconfusionofquestions，orders，andoutcrysrenttheair，theplainsshookwiththegallopingofadozenhorsemen。FortheacolyteFrancisco，oftheMissionSanCarmel，haddisappearedandvanished，andfromthatdaythehaciendaofDonJuanBrionesknewhimnomore。
CHAPTERIII
WhenFatherPedrosawtheyellowmulesvanishunderthelowbranchesoftheoaksbesidethelittlegraveyard，caughtthelastglitterofthemorningsunonPinto’sshiningheadstall，andheardthelasttinkleofAntonio’sspurs，somethingverylikeamundanesighescapedhim。Tothesimplewonderofthemajorityofearlyworshipers——thehalf—breedconvertswhorigorouslyattendedthespiritualministrationsoftheMission，andatethetemporalprovisionsofthereverendfathers——hedeputedthefunctionsofthefirstmasstoacoadjutor，and，breviaryinhand，soughttheorchardofvenerablepeartrees。Whethertherewasanyoccultsympathyinhisreflectionswiththecontemplationoftheirgnarled，twisted，gouty，andknottylimbs，stillbearinggraciousandgoodlyfruit，Iknownot，butitwashisprivateretreat，andunderoneofthemostrheumaticandmisshapentrunkstherewasarudeseat。HereFatherPedrosank，hisfacetowardsthemountainwallbetweenhimandtheinvisiblesea。Therelentless，dry，practicalCaliforniansunlightfallingonhisfacegrimlypointedoutanightofvigilandsuffering。Thesnuffyyellowofhiseyeswasinjectedyetburning，histempleswereridgedandveinedlikeatobaccoleaf;theodorofdesiccationwhichhisgarmentsalwaysexhaledwashotandfeverish，asifthefirehadsuddenlyawakenedamongtheashes。
OfwhatwasFatherPedrothinking？
Hewasthinkingofhisyouth，ayouthspentundertheshadeofthosepeartrees，eventhenvenerableasnow。Hewasthinkingofhisyouthfuldreamsofheathenconquest，emulatingthesacrificesandlaborsofJuniperoSerra;adreamcutshortbytheordersofthearchbishop，thatsenthiscompanion，BrotherDiego，northonamissiontostrangelands，andcondemnedhimtotheisolationofSanCarmel。Hewasthinkingofthatfiercestrugglewithenvyofafellowcreature’sbetterfortunethat，conqueredbyprayerandpenance，lefthimpatient，submissive，anddevotedtohishumblework;howheraisedupconvertstothefaith，eventakingthemfromthebreastofhereticmothers。
Herecalledhowonce，withthezealofpropagandismquickeningintheinstinctsofachildlessman，hehaddreamedofperpetuatinghisworkthroughsomesinlesscreationofhisown;ofdedicatingsomevirginsoul，oneoverwhomhecouldhavecompletecontrol，restrictedbynohumanpaternalweakness，tothetaskhehadbegun。
Buthow？OfalltheboyseagerlyofferedtotheChurchbytheirparentsthereseemednonesufficientlypureandfreefromparentaltaint。Herememberedhowonenight，throughtheintercessionoftheBlessedVirginherself，ashefirmlythenbelieved，thisdreamwasfulfilled。AnIndianwomanbroughthimaWaugeechild——ababy—
girlthatshehadpickeduponthesea—shore。Therewerenoparentstodividetheresponsibility，thechildhadnopasttoconfront，exceptthememoryoftheignorantIndianwoman，whodeemedherdutydone，andwhoseinterestceasedingivingittothePadre。Theaustereconditionsofhismonkishlifecompelledhimtothefirststepinhisadoptionofit——theconcealmentofitssex。
Thiswaseasyenough，asheconstitutedhimselffromthatmomentitssolenurseandattendant，andboldlybaptizeditamongtheotherchildrenbythenameofFrancisco。Noothersknewitsorigin，norcaredtoknow。FatherPedrohadtakenamuchachofoundlingforadoption;hisjealousseclusionofitandhispersonalcarewasdoubtlesssomesacerdotalformulaatoncehighandnecessary。
Herememberedwithdarkeningeyesandimpededbreathhowhisclosecompanionshipanddailycareofthishelplesschildhadrevealedtohimthefascinationsofthatpaternitydeniedtohim;howhehaddeemedithisdutytostruggleagainstthethrillofbabyfingerslaiduponhisyellowcheeks，thepleadingofinarticulatewords，theeloquenceofwonder—seeingandmutelyquestioningeyes;howhehadsuccumbedagainandagain，andthenstrugglednomore，seeingonlyinthemthesuggestionofchildhoodmadeincarnateintheHolyBabe。Andyet，evenashethought，hedrewfromhisgownalittleshoe，andlaiditbesidehisbreviary。ItwasFrancisco’sbabyslipper，aduplicatetothosewornbytheminiaturewaxenfigureoftheHolyVirginherselfinhernicheinthetransept。
Hadhefeltduringtheseyearsanyqualmsofconscienceatthisconcealmentofthechild’ssex？None。Fortohimthebabewassexless，asmostbefittedonewhowastoliveanddieatthefootofthealtar。TherewasnoattempttodeceiveGod;whatmatteredelse？Norwashewithholdingthechildfromtheministrationsofthesacredsisters;therewasnoconventneartheMission，andaseachyearpassed，thedifficultyofrestoringhertothepositionanddutiesofhersexbecamegreaterandmoredangerous。Andthentheacolyte’sdestinywassealedbywhatagainappearedtoFatherPedroasadirectinterpositionofProvidence。Thechilddevelopedavoiceofsuchexquisitesweetnessandpuritythatanangelseemedtohavestrayedintothelittlechoir，andkneelingworshipersbelow，transported，gazedupwards，halfexpectantofaheavenlylightbreakingthroughthegloomoftherafteredceiling。ThefameofthelittlesingerfilledthevalleyofSanCarmel;itwasamiraclevouchsafedtheMission;DonJosePeraltaremembered，ahyes，tohaveheardinoldSpainofboychoristerswithsuchvoices！
Andwasthissacredtrusttobewithdrawnfromhim？Wasthislifewhichhehadbroughtoutofanunknownworldofsin，unstainedandpure，consecratedanddedicatedtoGod，justinthedawnofpowerandpromiseforthegloryoftheMotherChurch，tobetakenfromhisside？Andatthewordofaself—convictedmanofsin——amanwhosetardyrepentancewasnotyetabsolvedbytheHolyChurch。
Never！never！FatherPedrodweltuponthestranger’srejectionoftheministrationsoftheChurchwithapitiablesatisfaction;hadheacceptedit，hewouldhavehadasacredclaimuponFatherPedro’ssympathyandconfidence。Yetheroseagain，uneasilyandwithirregularstepsreturnedtothecorridor，passingthedoorofthefamiliarlittlecellbesidehisown。Thewindow，thetable，andeventhescanttoiletteutensilswerefilledwiththeflowersofyesterday，someofthemwitheredanddry;thewhitegownofthelittlechoristerwashangingemptilyagainstthewall。FatherPedrostartedandtrembled;itseemedasifthespirituallifeofthechildhadslippedawaywithitsgarments。
Inthatslightchill，whicheveninthehottestdaysinCaliforniaalwaysinvestsanyshadowcastinthatwhitesunlight，FatherPedroshiveredinthecorridor。Passingagainintothegarden，hefollowedinfancythewayfaringfigureofFrancisco，sawthechildarriveattheranchoofDonJuan，andwiththefatefulblindnessofalldreamersprojectedapicturemostunlikethereality。HefollowedthepilgrimseventoSanJose，andsawthechilddeliverthemissivewhichgavethesecretofhersexandconditiontotheFatherSuperior。ThattheauthorityatSanJosemightdissentwiththePadreofSanCarmel，ordeclinetocarryouthisdesigns，didnotoccurtotheone—idea’dpriest。Likeallsolitarypeople，isolatedfrompassingevents，hemadenoallowancesforoccurrencesoutsideofhisroutine。Yetatthismomentasuddenthoughtwhitenedhisyellowcheek。WhatiftheFatherSuperiordeemeditnecessarytoimpartthesecrettoFrancisco？Wouldthechildrecoilatthedeception，and，perhaps，ceasetolovehim？Itwasthefirsttime，inhissupremeselfishness，hehadtakentheacolyte’sfeelingsintoaccount。Hehadthoughtofhimonlyasoneowingimplicitobediencetohimasatemporalandspiritualguide。
"ReverendFather！"
Heturnedimpatiently。Itwashismuleteer，Jose。FatherPedro’ssunkeneyebrightened。
"Ah，Jose！Quickly，then;hastthoufoundSanchicha？"
"Truly，yourreverence！AndIhavebroughtherwithme，justassheis;thoughifyourreverencemakemoreofherthantofillthesix—footholeandsayaprayeroverher，I’llgivethemulethatbroughtherhereforfoodforthebull’shorns。Sheneitherhearsnorspeaks，butwhetherfromweaknessorsheerwantonness，Iknownot。"
"Peace，then！andletthytonguetakeexamplefromhers。Bringherwiththeeintothesacristyandattendwithout。Go！"
FatherPedrowatchedthedisappearingfigureofthemuleteerandhurriedlyswepthisthin，dryhand，veinedandribbedlikeabrownNovemberleaf，overhisstonyforehead，withasoundthatseemedalmostarustle。Thenhesuddenlystiffenedhisfingersoverhisbreviary，droppedhisarmsperpendicularlybeforehim，andwitharigidstepreturnedtothecorridorandpassedintothesacristy。
Foramomentinthehalf—darknesstheroomseemedtobeempty。
Tossedcarelesslyinthecornerappearedsomeblanketstoppedbyafewstragglingblackhorsetails，likeanunstrandedriata。A
tremblingagitatedthemassasFatherPedroapproached。HebentovertheheapanddistinguishedinitsmidsttheglowingblackeyesofSanchicha，theIndiancentenarianoftheMissionSanCarmel。
Onlyhereyeslived。Helpless，boneless，andjelly—like，oldagehadovertakenherwithamildformofdeliquescence。
"Listen，Sanchicha，"saidthefather，gravely。"Itisimportantthatthoushouldstrefreshthymemoryforamoment。Lookbackfourteenyears，mother;itisbutyesterdaytothee。Thoudostrememberthebaby——alittlemuchachathoubroughtestmethen——
fourteenyearsago？"
Theoldwoman’seyesbecameintelligent，andturnedwithaquicklooktowardstheopendoorofthechurch，andthencetowardsthechoir。
ThePadremadeamotionofirritation。"No，no！Thoudostnotunderstand;thoudostnotattendme。Knowestthouofanymarkofclothing，trinket，oramuletfounduponthebabe？"
Thelightoftheoldwoman’seyeswentout。Shemighthavebeendead。FatherPedrowaitedamoment，andthenlaidhishandimpatientlyonhershoulder。
"Dostthoumeantherearenone？"
Arayoflightstruggledbackintohereyes。
"None。"
"Andthouhastkeptbackorputawaynosignnormarkofherparentage？Tellme，onthiscrucifix。"
Theeyescaughtthecrucifix，andbecameasemptyastheorbitsofthecarvenChristuponit。
FatherPedrowaitedpatiently。Amomentpassed;onlythesoundofthemuleteer’sspurswasheardinthecourtyard。
"Itiswell，"hesaidatlast，withasighofrelief。"Pepitashallgivetheesomerefreshment，andJosewillbringtheebackagain。Iwillsummonhim。"
Hepassedoutofthesacristydoor，leavingitopen。Arayofsunlightdartedeagerlyin，andfelluponthegrotesqueheapinthecorner。Sanchicha’seyeslivedagain;morethanthat，asingularmovementcameoverherface。Thehideouscavernsofhertoothlessmouthopened——shelaughed。ThestepofJosewasheardinthecorridor，andshebecameagaininert。
Thethirdday，whichshouldhavebroughtthereturnofAntonio，wasnearlyspent。FatherPedrowasimpatientbutnotalarmed。ThegoodfathersatSanJosemightnaturallydetainAntoniofortheanswer，whichmightrequiredeliberation。IfanymischancehadoccurredtoFrancisco，Antoniowouldhavereturnedorsentaspecialmessenger。Atsunsethewasinhisaccustomedseatintheorchard，hishandsclaspedoverthebreviaryinhislistlesslap，hiseyesfixeduponthemountainbetweenhimandthatmysteriousseathathadbroughtsomuchintohislife。Hewasfilledwithastrangedesiretoseeit，avaguecuriosityhithertounknowntohispreoccupiedlife;hewishedtogazeuponthatstrand，perhapstheveryspotwhereshehadbeenfound;hedoubtednothisquestioningeyeswoulddiscoversomeforgottentraceofher;underhispersistentwillandaidedbytheHolyVirgin，theseawouldgiveupitssecret。Helookedatthefogcreepingalongthesummit，andrecalledthelatestgossipofSanCarmel;howthatsincetheadventoftheAmericanositwasgraduallyencroachingontheMission。Thehatednamevividlyrecalledtohimthefeaturesofthestrangerashehadstoodbeforehimthreenightsago，inthisverygarden;sovividlythathesprangtohisfeetwithanexclamation。Itwasnofancy，butSenorCranchhimselfadvancingfromundertheshadowofapeartree。
"IreckonedI’dcatchyouhere，"saidMr。Cranch，withthesamedry，practicalbusinessfashion，asifhewasonlyresuminganinterruptedconversation，"andIreckonIain’tgoingtokeepyouaminitlongerthanIdidt’otherday。"Hemutelyreferredtohiswatch，whichhealreadyheldinhishand，andthenputitbackinhispocket。"Well！wefoundher！"
"Francisco，"interruptedthepriestwithasinglestride，layinghishanduponCranch’sarm，andstaringintohiseyes。
Mr。CranchquietlyremovedFatherPedro’shand。"Ireckonthatwasn’tthenameasIcaughtit，"hereturneddryly。"Hadn’tyoubettersitdown？"
"Pardonme——pardonme，Senor，"saidthepriest，hastilysinkingbackuponhisbench，"Iwasthinkingofotherthings。You——you——
cameuponmesuddenly。Ithoughtitwastheacolyte。Goon，Senor！Iaminterested。"
"Ithoughtyou’dbe，"saidCranch，quietly。"That’swhyIcame。
Andthenyoumightbeofservicetoo。"
"True，true，"saidthepriest，withrapidaccents;"andthisgirl，Senor，thisgirlis——"
"Juanita，themestiza，adopteddaughterofDonJuanBriones，overontheSantaClareValley，"repliedCranch，jerkinghisthumboverhisshoulder，andthensittingdownuponthebenchbesideFatherPedro。
Thepriestturnedhisfeverisheyespiercinglyuponhiscompanionforafewseconds，andthendoggedlyfixedthemupontheground。
Cranchdrewaplugoftobaccofromhispocket，cutoffaportion，placeditinhischeek，andthenquietlybegantostrapthebladeofhisjack—knifeuponhisboot。FatherPedrosawitfromunderhiseyelids，andeveninhispreoccupationdespisedhim。
"Thenyouarecertainsheisthebabeyouseek？"saidthefather，withoutlookingup。
"Ireckonasnearasyoucanbecertainofanything。Heragetallies;shewastheonlyfoundlinggirlbabybaptizedbyyou，youknow，"——hepartlyturnedroundappealinglytothePadre，——"thatyear。Injinwomansaysshepickedupababy。Lookslikeaprettyclearcase，don’tit？"
"Andtheclothes，friendCranch？"saidthepriest，withhiseyesstillontheground，andaslightassumptionofeasyindifference。
"Theywillbeforthcoming，likeenough，whenthetimecomes，"saidCranch;"themainthingatfirstwastofindthegirl;thatwasMY
job;thelawyers，Ireckon，canfittheproofsandsaywhat’swanted，lateron。"
"Butwhylawyers，"continuedPadrePedro，withaslightsneerhecouldnotrepress，"ifthechildisfoundandSenorCranchissatisfied？"
"Onaccountoftheproperty。Businessisbusiness！"
"Theproperty？"
Mr。Cranchpressedthebackofhisknife—bladeonhisboot，shutitupwithaclick，andputtingitinhispocketsaidcalmly，——
"Well，Ireckonthemillionofdollarsthatherfatherleftwhenhedied，whichnaturallybelongstoher，willrequiresomeproofthatsheishisdaughter。"
Hehadplacedbothhishandsinhispockets，andturnedhiseyesfulluponFatherPedro。Thepriestarosehurriedly。
"Butyousaidnothingofthisbefore，SenorCranch，"saidhe，withagestureofindignation，turninghisbackquiteuponCranch，andtakingasteptowardstherefectory。
"WhyshouldI？Iwaslookingafterthegirl，nottheproperty，"
returnedCranch，followingthePadrewithwatchfuleyes，butstillkeepinghiscareless，easyattitude。
"Ah，well！Willitbesaidso，thinkyou？Eh！Bueno。Whatwilltheworldthinkofyoursacredquest，eh？"continuedthePadrePedro，forgettinghimselfinhisexcitement，butstillavertinghisfacefromhiscompanion。
"Theworldwilllookaftertheproofs，andIreckonnotbotheriftheproofsareallright，"repliedCranch，carelessly;"andthegirlwon’tthinktheworseofmeforhelpinghertoafortune。
Hallo！you’vedroppedsomething。"Heleapedtohisfeet，pickedupthebreviarywhichhadfallenfromthePadre’sfingers，andreturnedittohimwithaslighttouchofgentlenessthatwasunsuspectedintheman。
Thepriest’sdry，tremuloushandgraspedthevolumewithoutacknowledgment。
"Buttheseproofs？"hesaidhastily;"theseproofs，Senor？"
"Oh，well，you’lltestifytothebaptism，youknow。"
"ButifIrefuse;ifIwillhavenothingtodowiththisthing！IfIwillnotgivemywordthatthereisnotsomemistake，"saidthepriest，workinghimselfintoafeverishindignation。"Thattherearenotslipsofmemory，eh？Ofsomanychildrenbaptized，isitpossibleformetoknowwhich，eh？AndifthisJuanitaisnotyourgirl，eh？"
"Thenyou’llhelpmetofindwhois，"saidCranch，coolly。
FatherPedroturnedfuriouslyonhistormentor。Overcomebyhisvigilandanxiety。Hewasobliviousofeverythingbutthepresenceofthemanwhoseemedtousurpthefunctionsofhisownconscience。
"Whoareyou，whospeakthus？"hesaidhoarsely，advancinguponCranchwithoutstretchedandanathematizingfingers。"Whoareyou，SenorHeathen，whodaretodictatetome，aFatherofHolyChurch？
Itellyou，Iwillhavenoneofthis。Never！Iwillnot。Fromthismoment，youunderstand——nothing。Iwillnever……"
Hestopped。ThefirststrokeoftheAngelusrangfromthelittletower。Thefirststrokeofthatbellbeforewhosemagicexorcismallhumanpassionsfled，thepeacefulbellthathadforfiftyyearslulledthelittlefoldofSanCarmeltoprayerandrest，cametohisthrobbingear。Histremblinghandsgropedforthecrucifix，carriedittohisleftbreast;hislipsmovedinprayer。Hiseyeswereturnedtothecold，passionlesssky，whereafewfaint，far—
spacedstarshadsilentlystolentotheirplaces。TheAngelusstillrang，histremblingceased，heremainedmotionlessandrigid。
TheAmerican，whohaduncoveredindeferencetotheworshiperratherthantherite，waitedpatiently。TheeyesofFatherPedroreturnedtotheearth，moistasifwithdewcaughtfromabove。HelookedhalfabsentlyatCranch。
"Forgiveme，myson，"hesaid，inachangedvoice。"Iamonlyawornoldman。Imusttalkwiththeemoreofthis——butnotto—
night——notto—night;——to—morrow——to—morrow——to—morrow。"
Heturnedslowlyandappearedtoglideratherthanmoveunderthetrees，untilthedarkshadowoftheMissiontowermetandencompassedhim。Cranchfollowedhimwithanxiouseyes。Thenheremovedthequidoftobaccofromhischeek。
"JustasIreckoned，"remarkedhe，quiteaudibly。"He’scleangoldonthebedrockafterall！"