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“But it is not a dream,” said the Padre.

“And, sir–pardon me if I do say this–are you not wasted at Santa Ysabel del Mar? I have seen the priests at the other missions. They are– the sort of good men that I expected. But are you needed to save such souls as these?”

“There is no aristocracy of souls,” said the Padre, again whispering.

“But the body and the mind!” cried Gaston. “My God, are they nothing? Do you think that they are given to us for nothing but a trap? You cannot teach such a doctrine with your library there. And how about all the cultivated men and women away from whose quickening society the brightest of us grow numb? You have held out. But will it be for long? Are you never to save any souls of your own kind? Are not twenty years of mesclados enough? No, no!” finished young Gaston, hot with his unforeseen eloquence; “I should ride down some morning and take the barkentine.”

Padre Ignacio was silent for a space.

“I have not offended you?” asked the young man.

“No. Anything but that. You are surprised that I should–choose–to stay here. Perhaps you may have wondered how I came to be here at all?”

“I had not intended any impertinent–“

“Oh no. Put such an idea out of your head, my son. You may remember that I was going to make you a confession about my operas. Let us sit down in this shade.”

So they picketed the mules near the stream and sat down.

IV

You have seen,” began Padre Ignacio, “what sort of a man I–was once. Indeed, it seems very strange to myself that you should have been here not twenty-four hours yet, and know so much of me. For there has come no one else at all”–the Padre paused a moment and mastered the unsteadiness that he had felt approaching in his voice–“there has been no one else to whom I have talked so freely. In my early days I had no thought of being a priest. By parents destined me for a diplomatic career. There was plenty of money and–and all the rest of it; for by inheritance came to me the acquaintance of many people whose names you would be likely to have heard of. Cities, people of fashion, artists–the whole of it was my element and my choice; and by-and-by I married, not only where it was desirable, but where I loved. Then for the first time Death laid his staff upon my enchantment, and I understood many things that had been only words to me hitherto. To have been a husband for a year, and a father for a moment, and in that moment to lose all–this unblinded me. Looking back, it seemed to me that I had never done anything except for myself all my days. I left the world. In due time I became a priest and lived in my own country. But my worldly experience and my secular education had given to my opinions a turn too liberal for the place where my work was laid. I was soon advised concerning this by those in authority over me. And since they could not change me and I could them, yet wished to work and to teach, the New World was suggested, and I volunteered to give the rest of my life to missions. It was soon found that some one was needed here, and for this little place I sailed, and to these humble people I have dedicated my service. They are pastoral creatures of the soil. Their vineyard and cattle days are apt to be like the sun and storm around them–strong alike in their evil and in their good. All their years they live as children–children with men’s passions given to them like deadly weapons, unable to measure the harm their impulses may bring. Hence, even in their crimes, their hearts will generally open soon to the one great key of love, while civilization makes locks which that key cannot always fit at the first turn. And coming to know this,” said Padre Ignacio, fixing his eyes steadily upon Gaston, “you will understand how great a privilege it is to help such people, and how the sense of something accomplished–under God–should bring Contentment with Renunciation.”