Carmen Ariza
Chapter 134 : "Well!" cried the impatient girl. "Aren't you going to speak?"

"Well!" cried the impatient girl. "Aren't you going to speak?" And with that she threw her arms about him and kissed him loudly on both cheeks.

The man and Miss Wall gave vent to exclamations of astonishment. He colored violently; Miss Wall sat with mouth agape.

"Aren't you glad to see me?" pursued the girl, again grasping his hands.

Then he found his tongue. "An angel from heaven could not be more welcome," he said. But his voice was low, and the note of sadness was prominent.

"Well, I am an angel from heaven," said the laughing, artless girl.

"And I'm an Inca princess. And I'm just plain Carmen Ariza. But, whoever I am, I am, oh, so glad to see you again! I--" she looked about carefully--"I read your sermon in the newspaper this morning.

Did you mean me?" she concluded abruptly.

He smiled wanly. "Yes, I meant you," he softly answered.

"Come with me now," said the eager girl. "I want to talk with you."

"Impossible," he replied, shaking his head.

"Then, will you come and see me?" She thought for a moment. "Why have you never been to see me? Didn't you know I was still in the city?"

"Oh, yes," he replied. "I used to see your name in the papers, often.

And I have followed your career with great interest. But--you moved in a circle--from which I--well, it was hardly possible for me to come to see you, you know--"

"It was!" exclaimed the girl. "But, never mind, you are coming now.

Here," drawing a card from her bag, "this is the address of Madam Beaubien. Will you come there to-morrow afternoon, at two, and talk with me?"

He looked at the card which she thrust into his hand, and then at the richly-gowned girl before him. He seemed to be in a dream. But he nodded his head slowly.

"Tell me," she whispered, "how is Sister Katie?"

Ah, if the girl could have known how that great-hearted old soul had mourned her "little bairn" these many months.

"I will go to see her," said Carmen. "But first you will come to me to-morrow." She beamed upon him as she clasped his hands again. Then she entered the car, and sat waving her hand back at him as long as he could see her.

It would be difficult to say which of the two, Miss Wall or Father Waite, was the more startled by this abrupt and lively _rencontre_.

But to Carmen, as she sat back in the car absorbed in thought, it had been a perfectly natural meeting between two warm friends. Suddenly the girl turned to the woman. "You haven't anything but money, and fine clothes, and automobiles, and jewels, you think. And you want something better. Do you know? I know what it is you want."

"What is it?" asked the wondering woman, marveling at this strange girl who went about embracing people so promiscuously.

"Love."

The woman's lip trembled slightly when she heard this, but she did not reply.

"And I'm going to love you," the girl continued. "Oh, so much! You're tired of society gabble and gossip; you're tired of spending on yourself the money you never earned; you're not a bit of use to anybody, are you? But you want to be. You're a sort of tragedy, aren't you? Oh, I know. There are just lots of them in high society, just as weary as you. They haven't anything but money. And they lack the very greatest thing in all of life, the very thing that no amount of money will buy, just love! But, do you know? they don't realize that, in order to get, they must give. In order to be loved, they must themselves love. Now you start right in and love the whole world, love everybody, big and little. And, as you love people, try to see only their perfection. Never look at a bad trait, nor a blemish of any sort. Try it. In a week's time you will be a new woman."

"Do you do that?" the woman asked in a low tone.

"I have _always_ done it," replied Carmen. "I don't know anything but love. I never knew what it was to hate or revile. I never could see what there was that deserved hatred or loathing. I don't see anything but good--everywhere."

The woman slipped an arm about the girl. "I--I don't mind your talking that way to me," she whispered. "But I just couldn't bear to listen to any more religion."

"Why!" exclaimed Carmen. "That's all there is to religion! Love is the tie that binds all together and all to G.o.d. Why, Miss Wall--"

"Call me Elizabeth, please," interrupted the woman.

"Well then, Elizabeth," she said softly, "all creeds have got to merge into just one, some day, and, instead of saying 'I believe,' everybody will say 'I understand and I love.' Why, the very person who loved more than anybody else ever did was the one who saw G.o.d most clearly!

He knew that if we would see G.o.d--good everywhere--we would just simply _have_ to love, for G.o.d _is_ love! Don't you see? It is so simple!"

"Do you love me, Carmen, because you pity me?"

"No, indeed!" was the emphatic answer. "G.o.d's children are not to be pitied--and I see in people only His children."

"Well, why, then, do you love me?"

The girl replied quickly: "G.o.d is love. I am His reflection. I reflect Him to you. That's loving you.

"And now," she continued cheerily, "we are going to work together, aren't we? You are first going to love everybody. And then you are going to see just what is right for you to do--what work you are to take up--what interests you are to have. But love comes first."

"Tell me, Carmen, why are you in society? What keeps you there, in an atmosphere so unsuited to your spiritual life?"

"G.o.d."

"Oh, yes," impatiently. "But--"

"Well, Elizabeth dear, every step I take is ordained by Him, who is my life. I am where He places me. I leave everything to Him, and then keep myself out of the way. If He wishes to use me elsewhere, He will remove me from society. But I wait for Him."

The woman looked at her and marveled. How could this girl, who, in her few brief years, had pa.s.sed through fire and flood, still love the hand that guided her!

CHAPTER 19

To the great horde of starving European n.o.bility the daughters of American millionaires have dropped as heavenly manna. It was but dire necessity that forced low the bars of social caste to the transoceanic traffic between fortune and t.i.tle.

That Mrs. Hawley-Crowles might ever aspire to the purchase of a decrepit dukedom had never entered her thought. A tottering earldom was likewise beyond her purchasing power. She had contented herself that Carmen should some day barter her rare culture, her charm, and her unrivaled beauty, for the more lowly t.i.tle of an impecunious count or baron. But to what heights of ecstasy did her little soul rise when the young Duke of Altern made it known to her that he would honor her beautiful ward with his own glorious name--in exchange for La Libertad and other good and valuable considerations, receipt of which would be duly acknowledged.

"I--aw--have spoken to her, ye know, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles," that worthy young cad announced one afternoon, as he sat alone with the successful society leader in the warm glow of her living room. "And--bah Jove!

she said we were engaged, ye know--really! Said we were awfully good friends, ye know, and all that. 'Pon my word! she said she loved me."

For Reginald had done much thinking of late--and his creditors were restless.

"Why, you don't mean it!" cried the overpowered Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, beaming like a full-blown sunflower.

"But I do, really! Only--ye know, she'll have to be--coached a bit, ye know--told who we are--our ancestral history, and all that. You know what I mean, eh?"

"Of course--you dear boy! Why, she just couldn't help loving you!"

"No--aw--no, of course--that is--aw--she has excellent prospects--financial, I mean, eh? Mines, and all that, ye know--eh?"