I acknowledge that in this decision there was some curiosity.  I wondered what rare woman had taken the beautiful Jessy Lorimer’s place; and I rather enjoyed the prospect of twitting him with his protestations of eternal fidelity to his first love.

I did not do it.  I had no opportunity.  Madame Petralto Garcia was, in fact, Jessy Lorimer Lennox.  Of course I understood at once that Will must be dead; but I did not learn the particulars until the next day, when Petralto dropped in for a quiet smoke and chat.  Not unwillingly I shut my book and lit my cigar.

“‘All’s well that ends well,’ my dear fellow,” I said, when we had both smoked silently for a few moments; “but I never heard of Will Lennox’s death.  I hope he did not come to the Guadalupe and get shot.”

Petralto shook his head and replied:  “I was always sorry for that threat.  Will never meant to injure me.  No.  He was drowned at sea two years ago.  His yacht was caught in a storm, he ventured too near the shore, and all on board perished.”

“I did not hear of it at the time.”

“Nor I either.  I will tell you how I heard.  About a year ago I went, as was my frequent custom, to the little open glade in the forest where I had first seen Jessy.  As I lay dreaming on the warm soft grass I saw a beautiful woman, clothed in black, walk slowly toward the very same jasmine vine, and standing as of old on tip-toe, pull down a loaded branch.  Can you guess how my heart beat, how I leaped to my feet and cried out before I knew what I was doing, ‘Jessy! darling Jessy!’ She stood quite still, looking toward me.  Oh, how beautiful she was!  And when at length we clasped hands, and I gazed into her eyes, I knew without a word that my love had come to me.”

“She had waited a whole year?”

“True; I liked her the better for that.  After Will’s death she went to Scotland—­put both herself and me out of temptation.  She owed this much to the memory of a man who had loved her as well as he was capable of doing.  But I know how happy were the steps that brought her back to the Guadalupe, and that warm spring afternoon under the jasmine vine paid for all.  I am the happiest man in all the wide world.”