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THE SUMTER WATCHMAN, Established April, 1850. "Be Just and Fear not-Let alEthe Ends thou Aims't at, be thy Country's, thy God'sJand Truth's." THE TRUE SOUTHRON, Established Jane, 1366 Consolidated Aug. 2,1881. SUMTER, S. C., WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 31, 1894. Jfew Series-Vol. XIV. No. 14. Published Svery "Wednesday, --BY KT. Gr. ?steen, SUMTER, S. C. TERMS : Two Dollars per annum-io advance. A D V R R TI 3 K 3? B 5 T : One Square first insertion.......$1 00 Every subsequent insertionM.. .. 50 Contracts for three months, or longer will be made at reduced rates. . All communications which subserve private interests will be charged foras advertisements. Obituaries and tributes of respect will be charged for. OOmttOMT, tnt, BY THC AUTHOR. CHAPTER XXXIV. VENGEANCE. During that meal Bernai Diaz spoke of our first meeting on tho causeway, and of how I had gone near to killing him in er? ror, thinking that he was Sarceda, and theil he asked mo what was my quarrel with Sarceda. In as few words as possible I told him the story of my life, of all the evil that De Garda, or Sarceda, had worked upon mc 'and mine, and of how it was through him that I was in this land that day. He lis? tened amazed. "Holy Mother!" he said at length. "I always knew him for a villain, but tha*, if you do not lie, friend Wingfield, he could be such a man as this I did not know. Now, by my word, had I heard this tale an hour ago Sarceda should not have left this camp till he had answered it or cleared himself by combat with yov. Bot I fear it is too late Ho was to leave for Mexico at the rising of the moon to stir up mischief against me because I granted you terms-not that I fear him there, where his repute is small." do not lie indeed," I answered. "Much of this tate I can prove if need be, and I tell you that I would give half the life that is left to me to stand face to face in open fight with him again. Ever he has escaped me, and the score between us is long." Now as I spoke thus it seemed to me that a cold and dreadful air played upon my hands and brow and a warning sense of . present evil crept into my soul, over? coming me so that I could not stir or speak for awhile. "Let us go and see if he has gone, v said Diaz presently, and summoning a guard be was about to leave the chamber. It was at this moment that I chanced, to look up and see a woman standing in the doorway. Her hand rested on the doorpost; her head, from which the long hair streamed, was thrown back, and on her face was a look of such anguish that at first, so much was she changed, I did not know her for Oto? mie, When I knew her, I knew alL One thing only could conjure-up the terror and agony that shone in her deep eyes. 4'What has chanced to our son?" I asked. "Dead, dead!" she answered in a whis? per that seemed to pierce my marrow. I said nothing, for my heart told me what had happened, but Diaz asked, "Dead -why, what has Silled Mm?" "De Garcia! I saw him go," replied Otomie. Then abe tossed her arms high, and without another sound fell backward to the earth. In that moment I think that my heart broke-at least I know nothing has had the power to move me greatly einoe, though this memory moyes me day by day and hour by hour, till I die and go to seek my son. "Say, Bernai Diaz," I cried, with a hoarse laugh, "did I lie to you concerning this comrade of yours?" Then, springing over Otomie's body, I left the chi JU ber, followed by Bernai Diaz and the others.. Without the door I turned to the left to? ward the camp. I had not gone 100 paces when, in the moonlight, I saw a small troop of horsemen riding toward us. It was De Garcia and his servants, and they headed toward the mountain pass on their road to Mexico. I was not too late. "Halt!" cried Bemal Diaz. 44Who commands me to halt?" cried the voice of De Garcia. "I, your captain," roared Diaz. "Halt, you devil, you murderer, or you shall be cut down." I saw him start and turn pale "These are strange manners, senor," he said. "Of jwur grace I ask" At this moment De Garcia caught sight of me for the first time, for I had broken from ?be hold of Diaz, who clutched my arm, and was moving toward him I said nothing, but there was something in my face which told him that I knew all and warned him of his doom. He looked past me, but the narrow road was blocked with men. I drew near, but he did not wait for me. Once* be put his hand on the hilt of his sword; then suddenly he wheeled his horse and fled down the street of Xaca. De Garcia fled, and I followed after him, running fast and low, like a hound. At first he gained on me, but soon the road grew rough, and he could not gallop over it. We were clear of the town now, or rather of its ruins, and traveling along a little path which the Indians used to bring down snow from Xaca in the hot weather. Perhaps there are some five miles of this path before tho snow line is reached, be? yond which no Indian dared to set his foot, for the ground above was holy. Along this path he went, and I was con? tent to see it, for I knew well that thc traveler cannot leave it, since on either side lie watercourses and cliffs. Mile after mile De Garcia followed it, looking now to the left, now to tho right and now ahead at the great dome of snow crowned with fire that towered above him He knew what was there-death in tho shape of aman! I came on doggedly, saving my strength. I was sure that I must catch him at last, it did not matter when. * At length he reached the snow line where tho path ended, and for the first time he looked back. There I was some 200 paces behind him. I, his death, was behind hjjn, and in front of him shone the snow. For a moment ???Ties??i&T?uJ and I heard the heavy breathing of his horse in tho great stillness. Then he turned and faced the slope, driving his spurs into tho brute's sides. The snow was hard, for herc thc frost bit sharply, and for awhile, though it was so steep, thc horse traveled over it better than he had done along the pathway. Now, as before, there was only one road that ho could take, for we passed np thc rest of a ridge, a plait, as it were, in the garment of a mountain, and on either side were steeps of snow on which neither horse nor man might keep his foot ? ing. For two hours or more we followed that ridge, and as we went through the silence of the haunted volcano and the lone? liness of its eternal snows it seemed to me that my spirit entered into tho spirit of my quarry, and that with its eyes I saw all that was passing in his heart. Now the snow grew steeper, and the horse was almost spent, for he could scarce? ly breathe at. so great a height. In vain did De Garcia drive his spurs into its sides; the gallant beast could do rio more. Sud? denly it fell down. Surely, I thought, ho will await me now; But even I had not fathomed the depth of his terrors, for Dc Garcia disengaged himself ?rom the fallen horse, looked toward me, then fled forward on his feet, easting away his armor as he went that he might travel more lightly. By this time we had passed the snow and were come to the edge of the ice cap that is made by the melting of the snow with the heat of the inner fires, or perhaps by that of the sun in hot seasons, I know not, and its freezing in tho winter months or in the cold of the nights. At least there is such a cap on Xaca, measuring nearly a mile to depth, which lies between the snow and the black rim of the crater. Up this ice climbed De Garcia, and the task is not of the easiest, even for ono of untroubled mind, for a man must step from crack to crack or needle to needle of rough ice, that stand upon smooth surface like the bristles on a hog's back, and woe to him if one break or he slip, for then, as he falls, very shortly the flesh will be filed from his bones by the thousands of swordlike points over which he must pass in his descent to? ward the snow. Indeed many times I feared greatly lest this should chance to De Garcia, for I did not desire to lose my vengeance thus. Therefore twice when I saw him in danger I shouted to him, tell? ing him where to put his feet, for now I was within 20 paces of him, and, strange to say, he obeyed me without question, for? getting everything in hisWror of instant death. But for myself I had no fear, for I knew that I should not fall, though the place was one which I had ?rely shrunk from climbing at any other time. All this while we had been traveling to? ward Xaca ' s fiery crest by the bright moon? light, but now the dawn broke suddenly on the mountain top, and the flame died away in thc heart of the pillar of smoke. It was wonderful to see the red glory that shone upon the ice cap and on us two men who crept like flies across it, while the mountain's breast and tho world be? low were plunged in the shadows of night "Now we have a better light to climb by, comrade!" I called to De Garcia, and my voice rang strangely among the ice cliffs, where never a juan's voice had echoed be? fore. Now, I thought, he will surely make a stand, for could he have found courage it had been easy for him to kill me with his sword, which he still wore, as I climbed from the ice to the hot lava It seemed that he thought of it, for he turned and glared at me like a devil, then went on again, leaving me wondering where he be? lieved he would find refuge. Some 300 paces from the edge of the ice the smoke and steam of the crater rose into the air, and between the two was lava so hot that in places it was difficult to walk upon it. Across this bed, that trembled as I passed over it, went De Garcia somewhat slowly, for now he was weary, and I followed him at my ease, getting my breath again. "At length, De Garcia!" I said. "Now let us make an end. You have your sword. Use it if you can. It will be easier to die fighting." "I cannot," he groaned. "My doom is upon me." "As you will," and I came at him, sword up. He ran from before me, moving back? ward and keeping his eyes fixed upon mine, as I have seen a rat do when a snake ls about to swallow it. Now we were upon the edge of the crater, and looking over I saw an awful sight, for there, some 30 feet beneath us, the redhot lava, glowing sullenly beneath a shifting pall of smoke, rolled and spouted like a thing alive. Jets of steam flew upward from it with a screaming sound; lines of noxious vapors, many colored, crept and twisted on its surface, and a hot and horrid stench poi? soned the heated air. Here indeed was such a gate as I could wish for Dc Garcia to pass through to Ids own abode. I looked, pointed with my sword and laughed. He locked and shrieked aloud, for now all his manhood had left him, so His vicord drom>cd from hh< hand, and he fell backward into thc pit. great was his terror of what lay beyond the * end. Yes this proud and haughty Spaniard screamed and wept and prayed for mercy. Ho who had done so many vil lainiesbeyond forgiveness prayed for mercy ithat he might find'time to repent. I stood and watched him, and so dreadful was his aspect that horror struck me even through the.calm of my frozen heart. "Come," it is time to finish, " I said, and again I lifted my sword, only to let it fall, forjsuddenly his brain gave way, and De Garcia went mad before my eyes! 'Of all that followed I will not write. With his madness courage carno back to lum, and he began to fight, but not wi me. He seemed to perceive me no more, b nevertheless he fought,'and desperate] thrusting at the empty air. It was ter: hie to see Mm thus doing battle with 1 invisible foes and to hear his screams ai curses as inch by inch they drove him ba to the edge of the crater. Here he sto* awhile, like one who makes a last stai against overpowering strength, thrustii and striking furiously. Twice he near fell, as though beneath a mortal woun but recovering himself fought on wi nothingness. Then, with a sharp cry, su denly he threw his arms wide, as am: does who is pierced through the heal His sword dropped from his hand, and 1 fell backward into thc pit. I turned away my eyes, for I wished see no more, but often I have wonder* who or what it was that dealt Do Gare his death wound. CHAPTER XXXV. OTOMTE'S FAREWELL. Thus, then, did I accomplish theveng ance that I had sworn to my father would wreak upon De Garcia, or rath thus did I witness its accomplishment, fi in the end he died, terribly enough, not I my hand, but by those of his own fears. When De Garcia was gone into the pi I turned my steps homeward, or rather t ward the ruined city which I could see b neath me, for I had no home left. It was near sunset when I came th i the for the road was long, and I grew weal By the palace I met the Captain Diaz an some of his company, and they lifted the: bonnets to me as I went by, for they ho respect for my sorrows. Only Diaz spok< saying: "Is the-murderer dead?" I nodded and went on. I went on 1 our chamber, for there I thought that should find Otoraie. She sat in it alone, cold and beautifu as though she had been fashioned in ma ble. "I have buried him with the bones c his brethren and his forefathers," she sale answering the question that my eyes askec "It seemed best that you should see hil no more, lest your heart should break. " ''It i?Kwell,'5 I answered, "but my heai is broken already." I "Is the murderer dead?" she said pres ently in the very words of Diaz. "He is dead." "How?" I told her in few words. "You should have slain him yourseli Our son's blood is not avenged." "I should have slain him, but in th a hour I did not seek vengeance. I watch? it fall from heaven and was content. Pei chance it is best so. Thc seeking of venge ance has brought all my sorrows upon me Vengeance belongs to God and not to man as I have learned too late. " "I do not think so," said O tom ic, an? the look upon her face was that look wh iel I had seen when she smote thc Tlascalan when she taunted Marina and when sh* I danced upon the pyramid, thc leader of th sacrifice. "Had I been in your place : would have killed him by inches. Whci I had dunc with him, then the devils migb begin, not before. But it is of no account Everything is done with, all are dead, anc my heart with them. Now eat, for yoi are weary." *? So I ate, and afterward I cast my sci: upon the bed and slept In the darkness I heard the voice of Oto mle that said, "Awako, I would spca! with you," and there was that about hei voice which stirred me from my h ea vj sleep. "Speak on," I said. "Where are you, Otomie?" "Seated at your side. I cannot rest, sc I am scated here. Listen. Many, many years ago we met, when you were brought by Guatemoc from Tabasco. Ah, well dc I remember my first sight of you, thc Teule, in the court of my father, Monte? zuma, at Chapoltepee. I loved you then as I have loved you ever since. At least I have never gone astray after strange gods, ' ' and she laughed bitterly. "Why do you talk of these things, Oto? mie?" I asked. "Because it is my fancy to do so. Can? not you spare me one hour from your sleep, who have spared you so many? You re? member how you scorned me-ohl I thought I should have died of shame when after I had caused myself to be given to you as wife, the wife of Tezcat, you told me of the maid across the seas, that Lily maid whose token is still set upon your fin? ger. But I lived through it and loved you the better for your honesty, and then you know the rest. I won you because I was brave and lay at your side upon the stone of sacrifice, where you kissed mc and told me that; you loved me. But you never loved mo-not truly. All the while you were thinking of the lily maid. I knew it then, as I know it now, though I tried to deceive myself. I was beautiful in those days, and this is something with a man. I was faithful, and that is more, and once or twice you thought that you loved me. Now I wish that those Teules had come an hour later and we had died together there upon the stone-that is, I wish it for my own sake, not for yours. Then we escaped, and the great struggle came I told you then that I understood it all You had kissed me on the stone of sacrifice, but in that moment you were as one dead. When you came back to life, it was otherwise. But fortune took the game out of your hands, and you married me and swore an oath to me, and this oath you have kept faithfully. You mar? ried me, but you did not know whom you married. You thought me beautiful and sweet and true, and all these things I was, but you did not understand that I was far apart from you-that I was still a savage as my forefathers had been. You thought that I had learned your ways; perchance even you thought that I reverenced your God, as for your sake I have striven to do, but all the while I have followed the ways of my own people, and I could not quito forget my own gods, or at least they would not suffer mc, their servant, to escape them. For years and years I put them from me, but at last they were avenged, and my heart mastered me, or rather they mastered me, for I knew nothing of what I did some few nights since, when I cele? brated the sacrifice of Huitzcl and you saw me at the ancient rites. "All thest years you had been true to me, and I had borne you children, whom you loved, but you loved them for their own sake, not for mine. Indeed at heart you hated thc Indian blood that was mix? ed in their veins with yours. Me also you loved in a certain fashion, and this half love of yours drove me well nigh mad. Such as it was, it died when you saw mg distraught and celebrating the rites of my forefathcrson Jho t?o?alli yonder, and you knew me for whatT am-^? savage." "lind now the children who linked us together are dead. One by one they died in this way and in that, for the curse which follows my blood descended upon them, and your love for me is dead with them. I alone remain alive, a monument of past days, and I die also. "Nay, be silent. Listen to me, for my time is short. When you bade me call you 'husband' no longer, then I knew that it was finished. I obey you. I put you from me. You are no more my husband, and soon I shall cease to bc.your wife. Still, Teule, I pray you listen to me. JNow, it seems to you in your sorrow that your days are done, and that there is no happi? ness left for you. This is not so. ?ouare still but a man in the beginning of middle age, and you are yet strong. You will es? cape from this ruined land, and when you shake the dust of it off your feet its curse shall fall from you. You will return to your own place, and there you will find one who has awaited your coming for many years. There the savage woman whom you mated with, the princess of a fallen house, will become but a fantastic memory to you, and all these strange, eventful years will be as a midnight dream. Only your love for the dead children will always remain. These you must always love by day and by night, and the desire of them-that desire for the dead than which there is nothing more terrible-shall follow you to your grave And I am glad that it should be so, for I was their moth? er, and some thought of me must go with them This alone the lily maid has left to me, and there only I shall prevail against her, for, Teule, no child of hers shall live to rob your heart of the memory of those I gave you. You swore that death alone should sever us, and you kept your oath in the letter and in tbe thought But now I go to the houses of thc sun to seek my own people, and to you, Teule, with whom I have lived many years and seen much sorrow, but whom I will no longer call husband, since you forbade me so to do, I say, make no mock of me to the lily maid. Speak of me to her as little as you may, be happy and-farewell!" Now as 6he spoke ever more faintly, and I listened bewildered, the light of dawn grew slowly in the chamber. It gathered on the white shape of Otomie seated in a chair hard by the bed, and I saw that her arms hung down, and that Otomie was seated in a chair by thc bed.^ her head was resting on the back of the chair. Now I sprang up and peered into her face. It was white and cold, and I could feel no breath upon her lips. I seized her hand. That was also cold. I spoke into her ear, I kissed her brow, but she did not move nor answer. The light grew quickly, and now I saw all-Otomie was dead! * * ? * * * * At last I rose with a sigh to seek help, and as I rose I felt that there was some? thing set about my neck, lt was tho col? lar of great emeralds which Guatemoc had given to me and that I had given to Oto? mie. She had set it there while I slept, and with it a lock of her long hair. Both shall be buried with me. I laid her in the ancient sepulcher amid the bones of her forefathers and by the bodies of her children, and two days later I rode to Mexico in the train of Bernai Diaz. At the mouth of the pass I turned and looked back upon the ruins of the City of Pines, where I had lived so many years and where all I loved were buried. Long and earnestly I gazed, as in his hour of death a man looks back upon his past life, till at length Diaz laid his hand upon my shoulder. "You are a lonely man now, comrade," he said. "What plans have you for the future?" "None," I answered, "except to die." "Never talk so, " he said. "Why,-you are scarcely 40, and I who am 50 and more do not speak of dying. Listen. You have friends in your own country-England?" "I had." "Folk live long in those quiet lands. Go'seek them. I will find you a passage to Spain." "I will think of it," I answered. In time we came to Mexico, and Diaz found me a lodging. I abode in Mex? ico 10 days, wandering sadly about the city and up to the hill of Chapoltepec, where Montezuma's pleasure house had been and where I had met Otomie. Noth? ing was left of its glories except some of the ancient cedar trees. On the eighth day of my stay an Indian stopped me in the street, saying that an old friend had charged him to say she wished to see me. I followed the Indian, wondering who the friend might be, for I had no friends, and he led me to a fino stone house in a new street. Here I was seated in a dark? ened chamber and waited there awhile till suddenly a sad and sweet voice that seemed familiar to me addressed me in the Aztec tongue, saying, "Welcome, Teule." I looked, and there before me, dressed in tho Spanish fashion, stood a lady, an Indian, still beautiful, but very feeble and much worn, as though with sickness and sorrow. "Do you not know Marina, Teule?" she said again, but befoore the words had left her lips I knew her. "Well, I will say this-that I should scarcely have known you, Teule. Trouble and time have dono their work with both of us." I took her hand and kissed it. "Where, then, is Cortes?" I asked. Now a great trembling seized her. "Cortes is in Spain, pleading his suit He has wod a new wife there, Teule. Many years ago ho put me away, giving me in marriage to Don Juan Xaramillo, who took me because of my possessions, for Cortes dealt liberally with me, his dis? carded mistress. " And she began to weep. Then by degrees I learned the story, but I will not write it here, for it is known to the %vorld. When Marina had served his turn and her wit was of no more service to him, the conqueror discarded her, leav? ing her to wither of a broken heart. She told me all the tale of her anguish when she learned thc truth and of how she had cried to him that thenceforth he would never prosper. Nor in??e??~oi? h? dd so. For two hours or more we talked, and when I had heard her story I told her mine, and she wept for me, since with all her faults Marina's heart was ever gentle? men we parted, never to meet again. Before I went she pressed a gift of money on mc, and I was not ashamed to' take it who had none. This, then, was the history of Marina, who betrayed her country for her love's sake, and this the reward of her treason and her love. But I shall always hold her memory sacred, for she was a good friend to me, and twice she saved my life, nor would she desert me, even when Otomie taunted her so cruelly. CHAPTER XXXVI. THOMAS COMES BACK FROM THE DEAD. Now, on the morrow of my visit to Marina the Captain Diaz came to see me and told me that a friend of his was in command of a carak, wmch was clue to sail from the port of Vera Cruz for Cadiz within 10 days, and that his friend was willing to give me a passage if I wished to leave Mexico. I thought for awhile and said that I would go, and that very night, having hid farewell, to the Captain Diaz, whom may God prosper, for he wag a good man among many bad ones, I set out from the city for the last time in the company of some merchants. A week's journey took us safely down thc moun? tains to Vera Cruz, a hot, unhealthy town, with an indifferent anchorage, much exposed to thc fierce northerly winds. Here I presented my letters of recom? mendation to the commander of the carak, who gave me passage without question, I laying in a stock of food for the journey. At length our voyage came to an end, and on a certain 12th of June I found my? self in the mighty city cf London. In London I bought a good horse, through the kind offices of the host of my inn, and on the morrow at daybreak I set out upon the Ipswich road. I rode hard all that day and the next, and my horse being stout and swift by 7:30 o'clock of the evening I pulled up up? on the little hill whence I had looked for my last on Bungay, when I rode thence from Yarmouth with my father. Below me lay the red roofs of the town. There to the right were the oaks of Ditchingham and the beautiful tower of St. Mary's church. Yonder the stream of Waveney wandered, and before me stretched the meadow lands, purple and golden, with marsh weeds in bloom. All was as it had been. I could see no change at all. The only change was in myself. I dismount? ed, and going to a pool of water near the roadway I looked at the reflection of my own face. I was changed indeed. Scarcely should I have known it for that of the lad who had ridden up this hill 20 years ago. Mounting my horse, I pushed on again at a canter, taking the road past Waing ford Mills, through the fords and Pirnhow town, leaving Bungay upon my left. In 10 minutes I was at the gate of the bridle path that runs from the Norwich road for half a mile or more beneath the steep and wooded bank under thc shelter of which stands the lodge of Ditchingham. Now the lodge was before me. It had changed no whit, except that the ivy and creepers on its front had grown higher to the roof indeed-and I could see that people lived in the house, for it was well kept, and smoke hung above the chim? neys. The gate was locked, and there were no serving men about, for night fell fast, and all had ceased from their labor. Leaving the house on the right, I passed round to the stables that are at the back, near the hillside garden, but here the gate was locked also, and I dismounted, not knowing what to do. Indeed I was so unmanned with fear and doubt that for awhile I seemed bewildered, and leaving the horse to crop the grass where he stood I wandered to the foot of the church path and gazed up the hill as though I waited for the coming of one whom I should meet. Then suddenly there rose up in my mind a vision of the splendid chamber in Mon tezuma's palace in Tenoctitlan and of my? self sleeping on a golden bed and dream? ing on that bed-I knew it now. I was the god Tezcat, and on the morrow I must be sacrificed, and I slept in misery, and as I slept I dreamed. I dreamed that I stood where I stood this night, that the scent of the English flowers was in my nostrils as it was this night, and that the sweet song of the nightingales rang in my cars as at this present hour. I dreamed that as I | mused and listened the moon came up over the green ash and oaks, and, lo! there she shone. I dreamed that I heard a sound cf singing on the hill. But now I awoke from this vision of the past and of a long lost dream, for as I stood the sweet voice of a woman began to sing yonder on the brow of the hill. I was not mad; I heard it clearly, and thc sound grew even nearer as thc singer drew down thc hillside. It was so near now that I could catch the very words of that sad song, which to this day I remember. Now I could see a woman's shape in the moonlight. It was tall and stately and clad in a white robe. Presently she lifted her head to watch thD flitter of a bat, and tho moonlight lit up her face. It was the face of Lily Bozart, my lost love, beautiful as of yore, though grown older and stamp? ed with thc seal of some great sorrow. I saw, and so deeply was I stirred at the sight that had it not been for the long paling to which I clung I must have fall? en to the earth, and a deep groan broke from my lips. She heard the groan and ceased her song. Then, catching the sight of the fig? ure of a man, she stopped and turned as though to fly. I stood quite still, and wonder overcame her fear. She drew nearer and spoke in the sweet, low voice that I remembered well, saying: "Who wanders herc so late? Is it you, John?" Now when I heard her speak thus a new fear took me. Doubtless she was married, and ''John" was her husband. I had found her, but to lose her more complete? ly. Of a sudden it came into my mind that I would not discover myself till I knew the truth. I advanced a pace, but not so far as to pass from the shadow of the shrubs which grew herc and taking Highest of all in Leavening POT TaXl and stately and clad in a white robe. my sta?dTln such a fashion that the raooiP light did not strike upon my face I bowed low in thc courtly Spanish fashion, and disguising my voice spoke as a Spaniard might in broken English, which I spare to write down: I "Madam, " I said, "have I the honor to speak to one who in bygone years was named the Senora Lily Bozard?" "That was my name," she answered. "What is your errand with me, sir?" Now I trembled afresh, but spoke on boldly. "Before I answer, madam, forgive me if I ask another question. Is this still your name?" "It is.still my name. I am no married woman," she answered, and fora moment the sky seemed to reel above me and the ground to heave beneath my feet like the lava crust of Xaca. But as yet I did not reveal myself, for I wished to learn if she still loved my memory. "Senora," I said, "lama Spaniard who served in the Indian wars of Cortes, of which perhaps you have heard." She bowed her head, and I went on: "In those wars I met a man who was named Teule, but who had another name in for? mer days, so he told me on his deathbed some two years ago." "What name?" she asked in a low voice. "Thomas Wingfield." Now Lily moaned aloud and in her turn ! caught at thc pales to save herself from falling. "I deemed him dead these 18 years," she gasped, "drowned in the Indian seas, where his vessel foundered." "I have heard say that he was ship? wrecked in those seas, senora, but he es? caped death and fell among the Indians, who made a god of him and gave him the daughter of their king in marriage. ' ' And I paused. She shivered, then said in a hard voice: "Continue, sir. I listen to you." "My friend Teule took the part of the Tnd^Tig in the wars, as being the husband of one of their princesses he must do in honor, and fought bravely for them for many years. At length the town that he defended was captured, his one remaining child was murdered, and his wife, the princess, slew herself for sorrow, and he himself was taken into captivity, where he languished and died. " "A sad tale, sir, " she said, with a little laugh-a mournful laugh that was half choked with tears. "A very sad tale, senora, but one that is not finished. While he lay dying my friend told me that in his early life he had plighted troth with a certain English maid named" "I know the name. Continue. " lHe told me that though he had been wedded and loved his wife, thc princess, who was a very royal woman, that many times had risked her life for his-aye, even to lying at his upon the stone of sac? rifice, and of her own free will-yet the memory of this maiden to whom he was once betrothed had companioned him through life and was strong upon him now at its close. Therefore he prayed me for our friendship's sake to seek her out when I returned to Europe, should she still live, and to give her message from him and to make a prayer to her on his behalf." "What message and what prayer?" Lily whispered. "This: That he loved her at the end of his life as he had loved her at its begin? ning; that he humbly prayed her forgive? ness because he had broken thc troth which they two had sworn beneath the beech at Ditchingham." "Sir," she cried, "what do you know of that?" "Only what my friend told me, senora." "Your friendship must have been close, and your memory must be good," she murmured. ''Which he had done," I went on, "un? der strange circumstances-so strange in? deed that he dared to hope that his broken troth might fx; renewed in some better world than this. His last prayer was that she should say to mc, his messenger, that she forgave him and still loved him, as to his death he loved her. " "And how can such forgiveness or such an avowal advantage a dead man?" Lily asked, watching me keenly through the shadows. " Have thc dead then eyes to see and ears to hear?" "How can I know, senora? I do but execute my mission." "And how can I know that you are a true messenger? It chanced that I had sure tidings of the drowning of Thomas Wingfield many years ago, and this talc of Indians and princesses is wondrous strange-more like those that happen in romances than in this plain world. Have you no token of your good faith, sir?" "I have such token, senora, but the light is too faint for you to sec it." "Then follow me to the house. There wo will get light. Stay." And. once more going to the st able gate, she called John. . An old man answered her, and I knew srer.-Latest U. S. Gov't Report Baking \ Powder mSX ?P?BE