od conduct to atone for the past. Whether
Donna Celia was my mother or not, I felt towards her as if she was, and
after some time from habit considered it an established fact. My Clara
was as kind and endearing as I could desire, and for five years I was as
happy as I could wish. But it was not to last; I was to be punished for
my deceit. My marriage with Clara, and the mystery attached to my
birth, which was kept secret, had irritated the heir of the estate, who
had been in hopes, by marrying Clara himself, to secure the personal as
well as the real property. We occasionally met, but we met with rancour
in our hearts, for I resented his behaviour towards me. Fearful of
discovery, I had never paid any attention to music since my marriage; I
had always pretended that I could not sing. Even my wife was not aware
of my talent; and although latterly I had no fear of the kind, yet as I
had always stated my inability, I did not choose to bring forth a
talent, the reason for concealing which I could not explain even to my
wife and mother, without acknowledging the deception of which I had been
guilty.

It happened that one evening at a large party I met my cousin, the heir
of the entailed estates. We were very joyous and merry, and had drunk a
good deal more than usual. The wine was powerful, and had taken effect
upon most of us. Singing was introduced, and the night passed merrily
away, more visitors occasionally dropping in. My cousin was much elated
with wine, and made several ill-natured remarks, which were meant for
me. I took no notice for some time, but, as he continued, I answered
with such spirit, as to arouse his indignation. My own blood boiled; but
the interference of mutual friends pacified us for the time, and we
renewed our applications to the bottle. My cousin was called upon for a
song; he had a fine voice and considerable execution, and was much
applauded.

"Now, then," said he, in an ironical tone, "perhaps Don Pedro will
oblige the company; although perhaps the real way to oblige them will be
by not attempting that of which he is not capable."

Stung with this sarcasm, and flushed with wine, I forgot my prudence.
Snatching the guitar from him, after a prelude which created the
greatest astonishment of all present, I commenced one of my most
successful airs: I sang it in my best style, and it electrified the
whole party. Shouts proclaimed my victory, and the defeat of my
relative. Some embraced me in thei