of the
true faith, of the brotherhood of man, and the fatherhood of God.

VI

"Mother," said Gabriel, "I have something to say to thee." They were
in the half-orange room, and she had looked in to give her good-night
kiss to the lonely student, but his words arrested her at the door.
She sat down and gazed lovingly at her handsome eldest-born, in whom
her dead husband lived as in his prime. "'Twill be of Isabella," she
thought, with a stir in her breast, rejoiced to think that the
brooding eyes of the scholar had opened at last to the beauty and
goodness of the highborn heiress who loved him.

"Mother, I have made a great resolution, and 'tis time to tell thee."

Her eyes grew more radiant.

"My blessed Gabriel!"

"Nay, I fear thou wilt hate me."

"Hate thee!"

"Because I must leave thee."

"'Tis the natural lot of mothers to be left, my Gabriel."

"Ah, but this is most unnatural. Oh, my God! why am I thus tried?"

"What meanest thou? What has happened?" The old woman had risen.

"I must leave Portugal."

"Wherefore? in Heaven's name! Leave Portugal?"

"Hush, or the servants will hear. I would become," he breathed low, "a
Jew!"

Dona da Costa blenched, and stared at him breathless, a strange light
in her eyes, but not that which he had expected.

"'Tis the finger of God!" she whispered, awestruck.

"Mother!" He was thrilled with a wild suspicion.

"Yes, my father was a Jew. I was brought up as a Jewess."

"Hush! hush!" he cautioned her again, and going to the door peered
into the gloom. "But my father?" he asked, shutting the door
carefully.

She shook her head.

"His family, though likewise Marranos, were true believers. It was the
grief of my life that I dared never tell him. Often since his death,
memories from my girlhood have tugged at my heart. But I durst not
influence my children's faith--it would have meant deadly peril to
them. And now--O Heaven!--perchance torture--the stake--!"

"No, mother, I will fly to where faith is free."

"Then I shall lose thee all the same. O God of Israel, Thy vengeance
hath found me at last!" And she fell upon the couch, sobbing,
overwrought. He stood by, helpless, distracted, striving to hush her.

"How did this thing happen to you?" she sobbed.

Briefly he told her of his struggles, of the episode of Dom Diego, of
his conviction that the Old Testament was the true and sufficient
guide to life.

"But why flee?" she asked. "Let us all return to