“A slave belonging 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 indicated that the rainy season was approaching.  I had been to the mission to look after my business, and was riding slowly homeward, through the heavy sultry air, when all at once the storm broke over me.  It came tearing down from the blue mountains, raging and driving over the savannas in unchecked fury.  I put spurs to my horse, in a fruitless effort to reach home before the worst came, for I knew full well what would follow this outbreak.  At this moment I saw approaching me, at full speed, a white horse, whose rider was making hopeless attempts to manage him.  I at once recognized Inez, and placing myself across the path, succeeded in seizing the bridle and stopping the animal in his mad night.