ing on a plantation about two hours' ride from mine, and
owned by a Spaniard, ran away, and fled to me for protection. The
slaves all knew that my laborers were free, and that induced the
unhappy creature thither. Don Manuel was not a hard master, but the
poor wretch had committed a grave fault, and was afraid to go home. So
I resolved to ride over and speak with Don Manuel about it. I reached
the hacienda of the Spaniard, and as I was about to enter, saw,
reclining in a hammock under the palm-trees, a slight, delicate figure
robed in white. Her arms were thrown above her head, and the lace of
her sleeve falling back gave me a glimpse of the beautifully rounded
limb. The sound of my horse's hoofs aroused her; she glided gracefully
from the hammock, and looked at me with a curious expression of
surprise as a quick blush mantled her cheek. She was scarcely more
than a child, being only fifteen, but the loveliest, the most
fascinating creature my eyes ever beheld. It was Inez--your mother.

"I was ushered into her father's presence, and while discussing
business with him, watched her on the veranda feeding the peacocks and
caressing a cunning little black monkey. I could not turn my eyes from
her; each attitude seemed more exquisite than the last; each tone of
her voice sounded like music.

"When I rode away, she was standing under the trees, and waved her hand
to me in farewell. Turning after a moment, to see if she was still
there, I beheld the same lovely picture, which lives in my heart to
this day."

Mauer paused, affected by his own words. Before his mind's eye rose
the past in all its beauty; and a crowd of sweet memories overwhelmed
him. Carmen had listened with intense eagerness to his recollections
of her mother; she had almost forgotten that she was about to hear the
confession of a great crime. With a smile parting her lips, she looked
at her father, impatient for him to proceed.

"How this storm rages!" Mauer resumed; "and yet it is nothing compared
with the blows they have in the West Indies. Can you remember them,
Carmen? One September, a few weeks after my visit to Don Manuel, the
sea-breeze lulled, and we were almost suffocated with the heat. For
many days the heavens were overcast with leaden clouds, which grew
darker and darker as they continued to pile up in huge masses; electric
flashes danced and quivered through them, and a continual rumbling of
thunder threatened danger, and indi