Then a dim light--only a feeble gleam--seemed to flash before him, but at a great distance. Something called him--not by name, but by again touching that unfamiliar chord which had vibrated in his soul when the child had first stood before him. He felt a strange psychic presentiment as of things soon to be revealed. A sentiment akin to awe stole over him, as if he were standing in the presence of a great mystery--a mystery so transcendental that the groveling minds of mortals have never apprehended it. He turned again to the man sitting beside his bed. "Rosendo--where is she?" "Asleep, Padre," pointing to the other bed. "But we must not wake her," he admonished quickly, as the priest again sought to rise; "we will talk of her to-morrow. I think--" Rosendo stopped abruptly and looked at the priest as if he would fathom the inmost nature of the man. Then he continued uncertainly: "I--I may have some things to say to you to-morrow--if you are well enough to hear them. But I will think about it to-night, and--if--_Bien_! I will think about it." Rosendo rose slowly, as if weighted with heavy thoughts, and went out into the living room. Presently he returned with a rude, homemade broom and began to sweep a space on the dirt floor in the corner opposite Josè. This done, he spread out a light straw mat for his bed. "The señora is preparing you a bowl of chicken broth and rice, Padre," he said. "The little Carmen saved a hen for you when you should awake. She has fed it all the week on rice and goat's milk. She said she knew you would wake up hungry." Josè's eyes had closely followed Rosendo's movements, although he seemed not to hear his words. Suddenly he broke forth in protest. "Rosendo," he cried, "have I your bed? And do you sleep there on the floor? I cannot permit this!" "Say nothing, Padre," replied Rosendo, gently forcing Josè back again upon his bed. "My house is yours." "But--the señora, your wife--where does she sleep?" "She has her _petate_ in the kitchen," was the quiet answer. Only the two poor beds, which were occupied by the priest and the child! And Rosendo and his good wife had slept on the hard dirt floor for a week! Josè's eyes dimmed when he realized the extent of their unselfish hospitality. And would they continue to sleep thus on the ground, with nothing beneath them but a thin straw mat, as long as he might choose to remain with them? Aye, he knew that they would, uncomplainingly. For these are the children of the "valley of the pleasant 'yes.'"