Carmen looked at him, with a feeling of pity. She had brought so much
trouble to this man that the thought of it did much towards dissipating
her ill-will towards him. With tears in her eyes, she said: "Be easy
about that, Brother Jonathan. I will not betray you. Forget this
hour, as I will try to forget it."

Then turning away, she hurried, as fast as her feet would carry her, to
the safe shelter of the Sisters' house.

From this time forth, Carmen's peace of mind was gone. Her aversion to
Jonathan was outweighed by her fear of him. His hot, ardent nature had
broken bounds so violently and ungovernably that she could not feel at
all sure it was so quickly subdued. A deep sense of desolation, came
over her. Her mother, lying in the grave, far away on a sea-girt
island, under a tropical sun; her father, in all likelihood murdered,
and buried in some foreign land; and she living among strangers, with
whom she found it utterly impossible to feel any congeniality! She
avoided Brother Jonathan, and he seemed to shun her no less
assiduously. He had absented himself from one Communion; explaining
his conduct by expressing an unusual sense of his own unworthiness.
His calculations were well made: Carmen pitied him sincerely on account
of the deep remorse he seemed to feel. How could her pure mind imagine
it was all hypocrisy! In the house where he lived with the other
unmarried Brothers, he maintained the same pious, serious demeanor as
heretofore. His patients received the same care and attention as
formerly, but he looked haggard and care-worn, and Thomas, his faithful
attendant, whom he had brought with him from the New World, would often
hear him groan heavily in the night, as if some secret grief preyed on
his mind.