ing about and asking
each other, "What is all this?" but erring widely in their conjectures;
for who would have imagined that the gitanilla was the daughter of
their lord? The corregidor told his wife and daughter and the old gipsy
that he desired the matter should be kept secret until he should himself
think fit to divulge it. As for the old gipsy, he assured her that he
forgave the injury she had done him in stealing his treasure, since she
had more than made atonement by restoring it. The only thing that
grieved him was that, knowing Preciosa's quality, she should have
betrothed her to a gipsy, and worse than that, to a thief and murderer.
"Alas, senor mio," said Preciosa, "he is neither a gipsy nor a thief,
although he has killed a man, but then it was one who had wounded his
honour, and he could not do less than show who he was, and kill him."

"What! he is not a gipsy, my child?" said Dona Guiomar.

"Certainly not," said the old gitana; and she related the story of
Andrew Caballero, that he was the son of Don Francisco de Carcamo,
knight of Santiago; that his name was Don Juan de Carcamo, of the same
order; and that she had kept his clothes after he had changed them for
those of a gipsy. She likewise stated the agreement which Preciosa and
Don Juan had made not to marry until after two years of mutual trial;
and she put in their true light the honourable conduct of both, and the
suitable condition of Don Juan.

The parents were as much surprised at this as at the recovery of their
daughter. The corregidor sent the gitana for Don Juan's clothes, and she
came back with them accompanied by a gipsy who carried them. Previously
to her return, Preciosa's parents put a thousand questions to her, and
she replied with so much discretion and grace, that even though they had
not recognised her for their child, they must have loved her. To their
inquiry whether she had any affection for Don Juan, she replied, not
more than that to which she was bound in gratitude towards one who had
humbled himself to become a gipsy for her sake; but even this should not
extend farther than her parents desired. "Say no more, daughter
Preciosa," said her father; "(for I wish you to retain this name of
Preciosa in memory of your loss and your recovery); as your father, I
take it upon myself to establish you in a position not derogatory to
your birth."

Preciosa sighed, and her mother shrewdly suspecting that the sigh was
prompted by love fo