"Because they are the more difficult to help than others; and although
your visit is principally to the sick, I should like to have your
advice regarding the case of one in my charge, and whose father was
your dearest friend."

"You are anxious about Carmen's worldly-mindedness; but ought you not
to be indulgent, dear Sister, and remember that the child's early
associations are still holding sway in her heart, and make great excuse
for her? Brother Mauer, you remember, went away from the mission to
his plantation, where, although he did not sever himself from our
communion, there was not much to remind him of his religious
obligations. His last wife, a hot-blooded Creole, could not be
considered much help as regards keeping the faith. She loved best to
swing herself into the saddle and gallop away over the plains. She
would sing her glowing Spanish songs to the accompaniment of the
mandolin; or else she would dance like a fairy, her foot scarce seeming
to touch the floor as she floated along, to the sound of the tambourine
played by her old negro duenna. She was too beautiful for him to
restrain, in dancing, riding, or anything. Too beautiful!" he
repeated, becoming more and more enthusiastic. "I have seen her often,
when summoned to the plantation on professional duty as a physician;
and there was little Carmen, always with her mother, and following her
in everything. She learned to dance and sing in true Spanish style,
and she seemed to feel all the beauty and fascination of it."

Suddenly he paused, as if becoming conscious of his unwonted animation
under the wondering gaze of Sister Agatha's grave eyes. Heaving a deep
sigh, he had again recourse to his old trick of brushing an invisible
speck of dust from his sleeve, and then continued in the orthodox,