"Dear little child of God," he murmured, as he bent over her and touched his lips to her rich brown curls, "I have tried my life long to learn what you already know. And at last I have been led to you--to you, little one, who shall be a lamp unto my feet. Dearest child, I want to know your God as you know Him. I want you to lead me to Him, for you know where He is." "He is _everywhere_, Padre dear," whispered the child, as she nestled close to the priest and stole her soft arms gently about his neck. "But we don't see Him nor hear Him if we have bad thoughts, and if we don't love everybody and everything, even Cucumbra, and Cantar-las-horas, and--" "Yes, _chiquita_, I know now," interrupted Josè. "I don't wonder they all love you." "But, Padre dear, I love them--and I love you." The priest strained her to him. His famished heart yearned for love. Love! first of the tender graces which adorned this beautiful child. Verily, only those imbued with it become the real teachers of men. The beloved disciple's last instruction to his dear children was the tender admonition to love one another. But why, oh, why are we bidden to love the fallen, sordid outcasts of this wicked world--the wretched, sinning pariahs--the greedy, grasping, self-centered mass of humanity that surges about us in such woeful confusion of good and evil? Because the wise Master did. Because he said that God was Love. Because he taught that he who loves not, knows not God. And because, oh, wonderful spiritual alchemy! because Love is the magical potion which, dropping like heavenly dew upon sinful humanity, dissolves the vice, the sorrow, the carnal passions, and transmutes the brutish mortal into the image and likeness of the perfect God. Far into the night, while the child slept peacefully in the bed near him, Josè lay thinking of her and of the sharp turn which she had given to the direction of his life. Through the warm night air the hoarse croaking of distant frogs and the mournful note of the toucan floated to his ears. In the street without he heard at intervals the pattering of bare feet in the hot, thick dust, as tardy fishermen returned from their labors. The hum of insects about his _toldo_ lulled him with its low monotone. The call of a lonely jaguar drifted across the still lake from the brooding jungle beyond. A great peace lay over the ancient town; and when, in the early hours of morning, as the distorted moon hung low in the western sky, Josè awoke, the soft breathing of the child fell upon his ears like a benediction; and deep from his heart there welled a prayer-- "My God--_her_ God--at last I thank Thee!" CHAPTER 5