might have
been his!

What was this mystery about his birth? He had been picked up a baby in a
deserted village outside of Panama. He had been found by the young Count
de Lara, who had led his troops to the succor of that doomed town,
which, unfortunately, he had only reached after the buccaneers had
departed. Search had been made for his parents but without success. The
Viceroy finding none to claim the bright-faced baby, had given him a
name and had caused him to be brought up in his own household. There was
nothing in his apparel to distinguish him save the exquisite fineness
and richness of the material. Thrown around his neck had been a
curiously wrought silver crucifix on a silver chain, and that crucifix
he had worn ever since. It lay upon his breast beneath his clothing now.
It was the sole object which connected him with his past.

Who had been his father, his mother? How had a baby so richly dressed
come to be abandoned in a small obscure village outside the walls of
Panama, which would have escaped the ravages of the buccaneers on
account of its insignificance, had it not lain directly in their
backward path. They had destroyed it out of mere wantonness.

And there was another thought which often came to him and caused his
cheeks to burn with horror. If, as his clothing had indicated, he had
been the child of wealth, did not his obscure position indicate that he
was at the same time the child of shame?

Since he had reached man's estate he had thought of these things often
and had prayed that in some way, at some time, the mystery might be
solved, for the suspense was worse than any assurance, however
dreadful. He had often thought with longing upon his father, his mother.
This morning in the bitterness of his heart he cursed them for the
situation in which he found himself. He despaired at last of ever
finding out anything. What mattered it now? He might be of the proudest
and most honorable lineage in New Spain, a Soto-Mayor, a Bobadilla, even
a de Guzman. It would advantage him nothing since he had lost Mercedes.
In spite of himself he groaned aloud, and the girl riding a little
distance behind him heard the sound of anguish in his voice.

Her heart, which had been yearning toward him with increasing force, was
stirred within her bosom.

"Ride thou here," she said suddenly to Senora Agapida, "I go forward to
speak with Captain Alvarado."

"But, senorita, thy father----"

"Is it not permitted that