The man looked at her earnestly, and an expression of disapproval passed over his face as he answered:  “Any one, to hear you speak in that way, and not know you as well as I do, would never believe that you had lived so long among us and were one of us.  I have known you always, ever since you were a wee, toddling thing.  It was in Jamaica, when I went to your father from the mission.”

Carmen blushed deeply at the rebuke which lay in his words, and, as if to atone, said quickly: 

“Oh, forgive me!  I am sure I would gladly be like you all if I only could.  But I cannot always be calm and serene, as every one else here is; and I fear our dear Sister Agatha, with all her endeavors, will succeed as little in changing me, as you do in trying to produce the same degree of health in every one, even though you be the wise and learned Doctor Jonathan Fricke.  Each bird sings after its own fashion, and although all are different, yet none are bad.  I cannot believe every one is culpable who does not pass through life calmly and sedately, as we endeavor to do.  It surely cannot be wrong for people to laugh, and dance!  Dance!” and she laughed outright, so that her pearly teeth gleamed from between the rosy lips.  “It must be enchanting to skip round and round to the sound of merry music!” She had allowed herself to be carried away by enthusiasm, and spoke louder than was consistent with Moravian decorum, or suitable to the place where she was.  Her eyes sparkled, and the dainty little foot which peeped forth from under her dress seemed altogether suited to trip with fairy fleetness through the merry mazes of the dance.

One glance, however, at her companion recalled her to the present.  Her eyes sank, the little foot was hastily withdrawn, and she wrapped more closely about her the dark shawl which had slipped from her shoulders.

“But the time! the time!” she stammered.  “It is getting later and later while we are chatting, and Sister Agatha will have good cause to be vexed with me.”

With fleet steps she hurried through the quiet graveyard, down the hill, and along the path which led to the dwellings of the settlement.  Jonathan stood looking after her, as long as his eye could discern the airy, lithe figure.

All pretence of calmness had vanished from his face.  His eyes glittered with a strange light and glowed with passionate desire.  For a moment the staid, elderly man was transformed into an eager, ardent youth.

“She inherits the hot, proud Spanish blood of her mother, and, alas! the same fatal, enchanting beauty also,” he muttered.  “If I could only win her—­” He stopped abruptly, as if fearful of being overheard, and began to brush away some imaginary specks of dust from his sleeve.  Drooping his head into its usual pious attitude, his face assumed its former grave expression, and he was again the sedate, quiet Brother.

CHAPTER II.