d hands and drooping
head.

Lawrence hesitated to disturb him, but as Quashy had no such
hesitations, and rode smartly forward, his companions followed.

Pedro turned with a grave look as they came up, and said--

"My home. I bid you welcome."

"Your home!" echoed Lawrence, in surprise.

"Ay, a happy home it once was--but--desolate enough now. Come, we will
sleep here to-night. Unload the mules, Quashy, and kindle a fire. Go
into the room on the right, Manuela. You will find a couch and other
civilised comforts there. Senhor Armstrong, will you come with me?"

Without even awaiting a reply, the guide walked smartly into the bushes
in rear of his lonely dwelling, followed by our hero. In a few minutes
they reached a mound or hillock, which had been cleared of trees and
underwood, and from the summit of which one could see over the tree-tops
and the cottage roof away down the valley to the horizon of the
table-lands beyond. It was a lovely spot, and, as Lawrence saw it that
quiet sunny afternoon, was suggestive only of peace and happiness.

There was a rustic bower on the mound, in which a roughly-constructed
seat was fixed firmly to the ground. In front of the bower was a grave
with a headstone, on which was carved the single word "Mariquita."

Lawrence looked at his companion, but refrained from speech on observing
that he seemed to be struggling with strong emotion. In a few seconds
Pedro, having mastered his feelings, turned and said, in a tone that
betrayed nothing save profound sadness--

"The body of my wife lies there. Her pure spirit, thank God, is with
its Maker."

Lawrence's power of sympathy was so great that he hesitated to reply,
fearing to hurt the feelings of one for whom, by that time, he had come
to entertain sincere regard. He was about to speak, when Pedro raised
his head gently, as if to check him.

"Sit beside me, senhor," he said, seating himself on the rustic seat
already referred to. "You have from our first meeting given me your
confidence so frankly and freely that the least I can do is to give you
mine in return--as far, at least, as that is possible. You are the
first human being I have invited to sit _there_ since Mariquita left me.
Shall I tell you something of my history, Senhor Armstrong?"

Of course Lawrence assented, with a look of deep interest.

"Well, then," said Pedro, "it may perhaps surprise you to learn that I
am an Irishman."

To this Lawrence repli