hing like this. How could it have
been like this? she asked herself. How could she have loved deeply
when, at the time, her own nature lacked depth? Experience had
broadened her, and suffering had uncovered depths in her being which
nothing else had had the power to uncover. Stooping, she kissed Dave
softly, then let her cheek rest against his. Her man! Her man! She
found herself whispering the words.

Her eyes were wet, but there was a smile upon her lips when she
gathered up the letters which had dropped from her husband's pocket.
She wondered, with a little jealous twinge, who could be writing to
him. It seemed to her that she owned him now, and that she could not
bear to share him with any other. She studied the inscriptions with a
frown, noticing as she did so that several of the envelopes were
unopened--either Dave was careless about such things or else he had had
no leisure in which to read his mail. One letter was longer and heavier
than the rest, and its covering, sweat-stained and worn at the edges,
came apart in her hands, exposing several pages of type-writing in the
Spanish language. The opening words challenged her attention.

In the name of God, Amen,

Alaire read. Involuntarily her eye followed the next line:

Know all men by this public instrument that I, Maria Josefa Law, of
this vicinity--

Alaire started, Who, she asked herself, was Maria Josefa Law? Dave had
no sisters; no female relatives whatever, so far as she knew. She
glanced at the sleeping man and then back at the writing.

--finding myself seriously ill in bed, but with sound judgment, full
memory and understanding, believing in the ineffable mysteries of the
Holy Trinity, three distinct persons in one God, in essence, and in the
other mysteries acknowledged by our Mother, the Church--

So! This was a will--one of those queer Spanish documents of which
Alaire had heard--but who was Maria Josefa Law? Alaire scanned the
sheets curiously, and on the reverse side of the last one discovered a
few lines, also in Spanish, but scrawled in pencil. They read:

MY DEAR NEPHEW,--Here is the copy of your mother's will that I told you
about. At the time of her death she was not possessed of the property
mentioned herein, and so the original document was never filed for
record, but came to me along with certain family possessions of small
value. It seems to contain the information you desire.

Y'rs aff'ly,

FRANCISCO RAMIREZ.

The will of Dav