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personal　care　was　doubtless　some　sacerdotal　formula　at　once　high

and　necessary。



He　remembered　with　darkening　eyes　and　impeded　breath　how　his　close

companionship　and　daily　care　of　this　helpless　child　had　revealed　to

him　the　fascinations　of　that　paternity　denied　to　him；　how　he　had

deemed　it　his　duty　to　struggle　against　the　thrill　of　baby　fingers

laid　upon　his　yellow　cheeks；　the　pleading　of　inarticulate　words；

the　eloquence　of　wonder…seeing　and　mutely　questioning　eyes；　how　he

had　succumbed　again　and　again；　and　then　struggled　no　more；　seeing

only　in　them　the　suggestion　of　childhood　made　incarnate　in　the　Holy

Babe。　　And　yet；　even　as　he　thought；　he　drew　from　his　gown　a　little

shoe；　and　laid　it　beside　his　breviary。　　It　was　Francisco's　baby

slipper；　a　duplicate　to　those　worn　by　the　miniature　waxen　figure　of

the　Holy　Virgin　herself　in　her　niche　in　the　transept。



Had　he　felt　during　these　years　any　qualms　of　conscience　at　this

concealment　of　the　child's　sex？　　None。　　For　to　him　the　babe　was

sexless；　as　most　befitted　one　who　was　to　live　and　die　at　the　foot

of　the　altar。　　There　was　no　attempt　to　deceive　God；　what　mattered

else？　　Nor　was　he　withholding　the　child　from　the　ministrations　of

the　sacred　sisters；　there　was　no　convent　near　the　Mission；　and　as

each　year　passed；　the　difficulty　of　restoring　her　to　the　position

and　duties　of　her　sex　became　greater　and　more　dangerous。　　And　then

the　acolyte's　destiny　was　sealed　by　what　again　appeared　to　Father

Pedro　as　a　direct　interposition　of　Providence。　　The　child　developed

a　voice　of　such　exquisite　sweetness　and　purity　that　an　angel　seemed

to　have　strayed　into　the　little　choir；　and　kneeling　worshipers

below；　transported；　gazed　upwards；　half　expectant　of　a　heavenly

light　breaking　through　the　gloom　of　the　raftered　ceiling。　　The　fame

of　the　little　singer　filled　the　valley　of　San　Carmel；　it　was　a

miracle　vouchsafed　the　Mission；　Don　Jose　Peralta　remembered；　ah

yes；　to　have　heard　in　old　Spain　of　boy　choristers　with　such　voices！



And　was　this　sacred　trust　to　be　withdrawn　from　him？　　Was　this　life

which　he　had　brought　out　of　an　unknown　world　of　sin；　unstained　and

pure；　consecrated　and　dedicated　to　God；　just　in　the　dawn　of　power

and　promise　for　the　glory　of　the　Mother　Church；　to　be　taken　from

his　side？　　And　at　the　word　of　a　self…convicted　man　of　sina　man

whose　tardy　repentance　was　not　yet　absolved　by　the　Holy　Church。

Never！　never！　　Father　Pedro　dwelt　upon　the　stranger's　rejection　of

the　ministrations　of　the　Church　with　a　pitiable　satisfaction；　had

he　accepted　it；　he　would　have　had　a　sacred　claim　upon　Father

Pedro's　sympathy　and　confidence。　　Yet　he　rose　again；　uneasily　and

with　irregular　steps　returned　to　the　corridor；　passing　the　door　of

the　familiar　little　cell　beside　his　own。　　The　window；　the　table；

and　even　the　scant　toilette　utensils　were　filled　with　the　flowers

of　yesterday；　some　of　them　withered　and　dry；　the　white　gown　of　the

little　chorister　was　hanging　emptily　against　the　wall。　　Father

Pedro　started　and　trembled；　it　seemed　as　if　the　spiritual　life　of

the　child　had　slipped　away　with　its　garments。



In　that　slight　chill；　which　even　in　the　hottest　days　in　California

always　invests　any　shadow　cast　in　that　white　sunlight；　Father　Pedro

shivered　in　the　corridor。　　Passing　again　into　the　garden；　he

followed　in　fancy　the　wayfaring　figure　of　Francisco；　saw　the　child

arrive　at　the　rancho　of　Don　Juan；　and　with　the　fateful　blindness　of

all　dreamers　projected　a　picture　most　unlike　the　reality。　　He

followed　the　pilgrims　even　to　San　Jose；　and　saw　the　child　deliver

the　missive　which　gave　the　secret　of　her　sex　and　condition　to　the

Father　Superior。　　That　the　authority　at　San　Jose　might　dissent　with

the　Padre　of　San　Carmel；　or　decline　to　carry　out　his　designs；　did

not　occur　to　the　one…idea'd　priest。　　Like　all　solitary　people；

isolated　from　passing　events；　he　made　no　allowances　for　occurrences

outside　of　his　routine。　　Yet　at　this　moment　a　sudden　thought

whitened　his　yellow　cheek。　　What　if　the　Father　Superior　deemed　it

necessary　to　impart　the　secret　to　Francisco？　　Would　the　child

recoil　at　the　deception；　and；　perhaps；　cease　to　love　him？　　It　was

the　first　time；　in　his　supreme　selfishness；　he　had　taken　the

acolyte's　feelings　into　account。　　He　had　thought　of　him　only　as　one

owing　implicit　obedience　to　him　as　a　temporal　and　spiritual　guide。



〃Reverend　Father！〃



He　turned　impatiently。　　It　was　his　muleteer；　Jose。　　Father　Pedro's

sunken　eye　brightened。



〃Ah；　Jose！　　Quickly；　then；　hast　thou　found　Sanchicha？〃



〃Truly；　your　reverence！　　And　I　have　brought　her　with　me；　just　as

she　is；　though　if　your　reverence　make　more　of　her　than　to　fill　the

six…foot　hole　and　say　a　prayer　over　her；　I'll　give　the　mule　that

brought　her　here　for　food　for　the　bull's　horns。　　She　neither　hears

nor　speaks；　but　whether　from　weakness　or　sheer　wantonness；　I　know

not。〃



〃Peace；　then！　and　let　thy　tongue　take　example　from　hers。　　Bring　her

with　thee　into　the　sacristy　and　attend　without。　　Go！〃



Father　Pedro　watched　the　disappearing　figure　of　the　muleteer　and

hurriedly　swept　his　thin；　dry　hand；　veined　and　ribbed　like　a　brown

November　leaf；　over　his　stony　forehead；　with　a　sound　that　seemed

almost　a　rustle。　　Then　he　suddenly　stiffened　his　fingers　over　his

breviary；　dropped　his　arms　perpendicularly　before　him；　and　with　a

rigid　step　returned　to　the　corridor　and　passed　into　the　sacristy。



For　a　moment　in　the　half…darkness　the　room　seemed　to　be　empty。

Tossed　carelessly　in　the　corner　appeared　some　blankets　topped　by　a

few　straggling　black　horse　tails；　like　an　unstranded　riata。　　A

trembling　agitated　the　mass　as　Father　Pedro　approached。　　He　bent

over　the　heap　and　distinguished　in　its　midst　the　glowing　black　eyes

of　Sanchicha；　the　Indian　centenarian　of　the　Mission　San　Carmel。

Only　her　eyes　lived。　　Helpless；　boneless；　and　jelly…like；　old　age

had　overtaken　her　with　a　mild　form　of　deliquescence。



〃Listen；　Sanchicha；〃　said　the　father；　gravely。　　〃It　is　important

that　thou　shouldst　refresh　thy　memory　for　a　moment。　　Look　back

fourteen　years；　mother；　it　is　but　yesterday　to　thee。　　Thou　dost

remember　the　babya　little　muchacha　thou　broughtest　me　then

fourteen　years　ago？〃



The　old　woman's　eyes　became　intelligent；　and　turned　with　a　quick

look　towards　the　open　door　of　the　church；　and　thence　towards　the

choir。



The　Padre　made　a　motion　of　irritation。　　〃No；　no！　　Thou　dost　not

understand；　thou　dost　not　attend　me。　　Knowest　thou　of　any　mark　of

clothing；　trinket；　or　amulet　found　upon　the　babe？〃



The　light　of　the　old　woman's　eyes　went　out。　　She　might　have　been

dead。　　Father　Pedro　waited　a　moment；　and　then　laid　his　hand

impatiently　on　her　shoulder。



〃Dost　thou　mean　there　are　none？〃



A　ray　of　light　struggled　back　into　her　eyes。



〃None。〃



〃And　thou　hast　kept　back　or　put　away　no　sign　nor　mark　of　her

parentage？　　Tell　me；　on　this　crucifix。〃



The　eyes　caught　the　crucifix；　and　became　as　empty　as　the　orbits　of

the　carven　Christ　upon　it。



Father　Pedro　waited　patiently。　　A　moment　passed；　only　the　sound　of

the　muleteer's　spurs　was　heard　in　the　courtyard。



〃It　is　well；〃　he　said　at　last；　with　a　sigh　of　relief。　　〃Pepita

shall　give　thee　some　refreshment；　and　Jose　will　bring　thee　back

again。　　I　will　summon　him。〃



He　passed　out　of　the　sacristy　door；　leaving　it　open。　　A　ray　of

sunlight　darted　eagerly　in；　and　fell　upon　the　grotesque　heap　in　the

corner。　　Sanchicha's　eyes　lived　again；　more　than　that；　a　singular

movement　came　over　her　face。　　The　hideous　caverns　of　her　toothless

mouth　openedshe　laughed。　　The　step　of　Jose　was　heard　in　the

corridor；　and　she　became　again　inert。



The　third　day；　which　should　have　brought　the　return　of　Antonio；　was

nearly　spent。　　Father　Pedro　was　impatient　but　not　alarmed。　　The

good　fathers　at　San　Jose　might　naturally　detain　Antonio　for　the

answer；　which　might　require　deliberation。　　If　any　mischance　had

occurred　to　Francisco；　Antonio　would　have　returned　or　sent　a

special　messenger。　　At　sunset　he　was　in　his　accustomed　seat　in　the

orchard；　his　hands　clasped　over　the　breviary　in　his　listless　lap；

his　eyes　fixed　upon　the　mountain　between　him　and　that　mysterious

sea　that　had　brought　so　much　into　his　life。　　He　was　filled　with　a

strange　desire　to　see　it；　a　vague　curiosity　hitherto　unknown　to　his

preoccupied　life；　he　wished　to　gaze　upon　that　strand；　perhaps　the

very　spot　where　she　had　been　found；　he　doubted　not　his　questioning

eyes　would　discover　some　forgotten　trace　of　her；　under　his

persistent　will　and　aided　by　the　Holy　Virgin；　the　sea　would　give　up

its　secret。　　He　looked　at　the　fog　creeping　along　the　summit；　and

recalled　the　latest　gossip　of　San　Carmel；　how　that　since　the　advent

of　the　Americanos　it　was　gradually　encroaching　on　the　Mission。　　The

hated　name　vividly　recalled　to　him　the　features　of　the　stranger　as

he　had　stood　before　him　three　nights　ago；　in　this　very　garden；　so

vividly　that　he　sprang　to　his　feet　with