tyard, and in response to our knocking Antonio appeared.

On seeing me the old man would have screamed with delight, but I
checked him, saying softly, "Hush, Antonio; tell me quickly of your
mistress, my mother. Is she well?"

"In health, senor, but sad. Ah, the house has been very lonely for
many a long day!"

"Go you, Jose," said I, "and prepare her."

"Joy never kills," answered he, laughing; "but perhaps it will be as
well for me to go in first."

I waited a few moments, and then dismounting, walked softly towards the
entrance. What would she say? what would she do? My heart almost
ceased beating as I stood in the shadow listening. The door was wide
open, and a stream of light came from the spacious hall.

Suddenly I heard a quick step, and then my mother's voice crying,
"Juan! my Juan! where are you?" And running forward, I threw myself
joyfully into her arms. She kissed me repeatedly, and then hand in
hand we went inside.

"Mother!" I cried, "mother!" and for a long time that was the only word
spoken. We sat down side by side, and her beautiful eyes, dimmed by
very joy, looked into mine. She pressed my hand, smoothed my cheeks,
and brushed back the hair from my forehead, murmuring softly, "Juan, my
Juan!"

I think, perhaps, that great happiness, like great grief, kills speech.
At least it was so with us, and we were content to sit there silently
gazing into each loved face.

At length the good old major-domo, knocking timidly at the door,
announced that supper was served, when my mother with a sigh suffered
me to leave her for a few minutes, in order to make myself more
presentable for the table.

I would have had Jose sit down with us, but he disappeared, and perhaps
after all it was as well. My mother made only a pretence at eating,
and sat with her eyes fixed on me, as though fearful I should in some
mysterious way suddenly disappear.

After supper we returned to the drawing-room, where I related my
adventures, telling her the story of the shipwreck, of my rescue and
imprisonment in the fort, of my marvellous escape, and all the various
incidents which had happened since I left home. Of Santiago's
information concerning my father I said nothing, though I longed
greatly to do so.

"I think General Barejo wished you well," she exclaimed after a pause.
"He is not of our way of thinking, but he has a kind heart, and he was
a true friend to me before these troubles came upon us."

"Was h