“It was a fearful sin for a member of our faith to fall into, and Brother Mauer should have resisted the temptation.  I spoke to him frequently about it, but he had lost all power of self-control.  He was too much absorbed in love for his wife, and therefore it was a mercy to his soul and Carmen’s that this Spanish girl died, and the child was placed here, under our discipline, where she may yet be won over to a spiritual life,” he concluded, and cast a humble, sanctimonious look on Sister Agatha.

“Where were you when her mother died?” asked the Sister.  “Were you with her?”

“No; she has been dead about ten years, and I left Jamaica some time before that, as my health could not stand the climate.  I went from there to the northern part of the United States.  From Bethlehem, where I remained several years, I went back to the old place, and when I got there Carmen was a wee little maiden, and I was told that Brother Mauer had left Jamaica for the East Indies.”

“Well, surely the Lord called him to be His instrument,” interrupted Sister Agatha.  “It was wonderful how he was seized with such an irrepressible desire to be a missionary.  And as far as we can know, he has worked without flagging for the faith.  All news from him has ceased for some time now; and is it not strange that he has never made any application for money?  He took only a very small sum with him when he went on his mission, and the large sum which the sale of his lands in Jamaica brought is still in a bank in this country.”

“Has he, then, left nothing for Carmen?”

“We receive a certain interest from the money, for her support and education,” replied Agatha, “but it is, comparatively speaking, very little.  The money must have accumulated to an immense sum by this time.  If her father is dead, Carmen must be a very wealthy heiress—­another temptation for her, poor child!  It is strange we hear nothing from Brother Mauer.  I feel sure he must be dead—­died while working for his Lord!”

As she spoke, Jonathan’s eyes flashed, and he suddenly lifted his head; but remembering where he was, he immediately resumed his usual pious bearing, and, when Agatha ceased speaking, said, with something like a sigh: 

“He was my friend!”

A pause ensued, during which he seemed lost in reflection.

“It does seem as if we have lost him,” he continued, “and Carmen must be an orphan.  Poor child!  Bear so much the more leniently with her, dear Sister; and if from time to time you observe signs of her early training, and that her impulses carry her sometimes beyond what is quite becoming, remember she will find in me a guide who is ever ready to lead her in the right way.”

“Truly, you are still the same faithful friend to her father, for you have so much consideration for his child,” said Agatha, deeply affected.  “But believe me, dear Brother, I also love the girl with my whole heart, and am the more anxious for that reason, lest her natural inclinations may lead her into error.  But to whom shall I direct her for guidance, if not to the dear Lord Himself?”