f a dream, and yet he was
impressed with the belief that they had once been realities. He was the
more confirmed in this idea, because such visions had occurred to him
before--especially upon the night when he sat by the death-bed of his
adopted mother--the widow of Arellanos. The revelations which she made
to him before dying had revived in some mysterious way these shadowy
souvenirs.

After a while the young man made known his thoughts to his companion by
the camp-fire, whose interest appeared to be forcibly re-awakened, and
who listened with eager attention to every word.

"I fancy I can remember," said Tiburcio--"that is, if it be not a dream
I have sometimes dreamt--a terrible scene. I was in the arms of a woman
who held me closely to her breast--that I was rudely snatched from her
embrace by a wicked man--that she screamed and cried, but then all at
once became silent; but after that I remember no more."

These words appeared to produce an effect upon the Canadian; and his
interest visibly increased as he listened.

"You can remember no more?" he inquired, in an eager tone. "Can you not
remember what sort of place it was in? Was it in a house? or do you not
remember whether the sea was around you? That is a thing one is not
likely to forget."

"No," answered Tiburcio, "I saw the great ocean for the first time at
Guaymas--that was four years ago--and yet from what has been told me I
should have also seen it when I was a child."

"But, when you saw it four years ago, did it not recall anything to your
memory?"

"No, nothing."

"Nothing?" repeated the Canadian, interrogatively, and in a despairing
tone.

"Nothing more than this same dream, which I have mistaken no doubt for
reality."

Bois-Rose again resumed his attitude of melancholy, and remained silent.

After a pause Tiburcio continued:

"One figure appears to me in these visions that is different from the
rest."

"What sort of figure?" inquired the Canadian, with renewed interest.

"That of a man of a hale rude countenance, but notwithstanding one of
kindly expression. This man loved me, for I now have his face before me
more clearly than I ever had; and I can trace that expression upon it."

"And did you love him? can you remember that?" inquired the Canadian,
while his heart beat with anxiety, as he awaited the answer.

"I am sure I did, he was so kind to me. I can remember he was kind to
me."

A tear stole over the bronzed cheek