A heavy iron chest, with slit in the cover, received the offerings, before admittance could be gained to the side of the image. At each side of the door stood a priest selling candles which had been blessed, and which the purchaser was to send up to the altar to be burned, as masses were being said. Only a very few noticed that the same candles were passed in to the altar and out again, to be resold for twenty-five cents apiece.

"Dear child," said the aunt to Constancia, as they stood in the throng near to the image, "forget now thy father's blasphemous teachings, and yield thyself to the holy influence which already I feel stealing over me! Wilt thou kneel with me?"

"I await thee here, Aunt," said the girl, withdrawing, and could Aunt Eulalia have seen the raising of those eyebrows and the merry twinkle in those bright eyes, so like her father's, her prayers would have been distracted with conflicting thoughts.

The grounds about the church were a babel of noises. Vendors shouting their sweets and drinks, a merry-go-round, roulette, and other games of chance to draw the crowd. The girl's lips curled with scorn as she noted the worship and

supplication within, barter and commerce without.

Suddenly she heard a voice singing, a man's voice, clear and sweet, above the din of the crowd. It seemed to call her, and without thought she started toward it.

Under a tree, in one corner of the yard, was a table covered with books and papers. Besides the table stood two men. One with a book, the Bible, in his hand, reading and explaining as he read, while ever and anon the voice of the singer broke out:

"There is something better than this, my friends,

It is Jesus, Jesus' love;

Come to him now and listen while he calls, For he calls thee from above."

"There are the heretics," she heard one say, "from the city below us. The young one is the 'Angel Voice,' whom the heretics kidnaped several years ago."

It was Frederico, now having completed his studies, and he and his mother were back again with the missionary.

Still Constancia drew nearer, and stood and listened, while the voice sang on. The song had touched her soul. Or was it the eyes of the singer which had found her heart?

The song was ended, and the crowd be

11

gan to scatter. Some stopped to listen further to the missionary, or to accept his leaflets. Noticing Constancia, he pleasantly drew her into conversation, learning her name and home, the singer meanwhile silently standing by watching the beautiful face. The searching, questioning look of those big, mournful eyes had found at last their answer in the face of Constancia.

Then the heretic teacher presented these two young people, each to the other, but while they talked together, Aunt Eulalia hurriedly came up, and snatching the girl away whispered excitedly:

"Child, child!

What hast thou done? These are those accursed heretics-oh, alma mia, what hast thou done?"

But to the aunt's horror, the next day Constancia again sought the heretics. All through the day she stayed where she could listen to the singer, could hear and talk to both.

"Alas, alas! How am I thwarted!" cried poor Aunt Eulalia to herself. "I bring my girl here to be drawn back into the fold of her holy Church, and here she is drifting farther than ever, right into the arms of these dreadful heretics!"

That night brought a messenger from Don Ramon, instead of the man himself,

saying he could not come, and that they were to return the next day, early, before Constancia could again see her new-found friends, the heretics.

Aunt Eulalia was glad in her heart that the girl would be prevented further intercourse with them. And Constancia was glad in her heart, for the promise they had made to her to visit her town, if her father would send to them the permission. And she carried, hidden in her belongings, the New Testament, which the heretic teacher had sent as a present to her father.

That night, as Constancia sat by her father's side, she showed him the little book which the heretic had sent, and told him the story which the heretic told, and gave him the request for permission to visit the town.

"Yes," said Don Ramon, "he must be a good man, and I like what he tells. I will write him to come!"

But not a word had the maiden told of the songs or of the singer that had found her heart.

CHAPTER XIII.

STRONG ENOUGH AND BRAVE ENOUGH.

In due time they came-the heretic missionary, with his Bibles and his papers, and the young singer, with his beautiful voice and songs.

"Why didst thou not tell me, too, of the singer, my daughter?" inquired Don Ramon.

But the maid, dropping her eyes, could not reply. Yet there was something about the quiet, slim young man that the mayor liked. He, himself, placed at their disposal an empty hall where they might preach and sing the gospel story. He, too, accompanied by his daughter, went to the meetings and invited them both, the preacher and his singer, to visit them in his home. Ah, why was Don Ramon so blind! It so happened that the town school was without a teacher, he having been summarily dismissed a few days before by the mayor because of intemperate habits. It was decided that Frederico, the singer, could take the school until the close of the year. His mother was to come to him by next stage,