So!  This was a will—­one of those queer Spanish documents of which Alaire had heard—­but who was Maria Josefa Law?  Alaire scanned the sheets curiously, and on the reverse side of the last one discovered a few lines, also in Spanish, but scrawled in pencil.  They read: 

My dear Nephew,—­Here is the copy of your mother’s will that I told you about.  At the time of her death she was not possessed of the property mentioned herein, and so the original document was never filed for record, but came to me along with certain family possessions of small value.  It seems to contain the information you desire.

Y’rs aff’ly,

Francisco Ramirez.

The will of Dave’s mother!  Then Maria Josefa Law was that poor woman regarding whose tragic end Judge Ellsworth had spoken so peculiarly.  Alaire felt not a little curiosity to know more about the mother of the man whose name she had taken.  Accordingly, after a moment of debate with herself, she sat down to translate the instrument.  Surely Dave would not object if she occupied herself thus while he slept.

The document had evidently been drawn in the strictest form, doubtless by some local priest, for it ran: 

First:  I commend my soul to the Supreme Being who from nothing formed it, and my body I order returned to earth, and which, as soon as it shall become a corpse, it is my wish shall be shrouded with a blue habit in resemblance to those used by the monks of our Seraphic Father, St. Francis; to be interred with high mass, without pomp—­

Alaire mused with a certain reverent pleasure that Dave’s mother had been a devout woman.

Second:  I declare to have, in the possession of my husband, Franklin Law, three horses, with splendid equipment of saddles and bridles, which are to be sold and the proceeds applied to masses for the benefit of my soul.  I so declare, that it may appear.

Third:  I declare to owe to Mrs. Guillelmo Perez about twenty dollars, to be ascertained by what she may have noted in her book of accounts.  So I declare, that this debt may be paid as I have ordered.

Fourth:  In just remuneration for the services of my cousin, Margarita Ramirez, I bequeath and donate a silver tray which weighs one hundred ounces, seven breeding cows, and four fine linen and lace tablecloths.  So I declare, that it may appear.

Fifth:  I bequeath to my adopted son, David, offspring of the unfortunate American woman who died in my house at Escovedo, the share of land—­

Alaire re-read this paragraph wonderingly, then let the document fall into her lap.  So Dave was an adopted son, and not actually the child of this woman, Maria Josefa Law.  She wondered if he knew it, and, if so, why he hadn’t told her?  But, after all, what difference did it make who or what he was?  He was hers to love and to comfort, hers to cherish and to serve.

For a long time she sat gazing at him tenderly; then she tiptoed out and delighted the naked Garcia baby by taking him in her arms and hugging him.  Inez thought the beautiful senora’s voice was like the music of birds.