'Before I answer, Madam, forgive me if I ask another question. Is this
still your name?'
'It is still my name, I am no married woman,' she answered, and for a
moment the sky seemed to reel above me and the ground to heave beneath
my feet like the lava crust of Xaca. But as yet I did not reveal myself,
for I wished to learn if she still loved my memory.
'Senora,' I said, 'I am a Spaniard who served in the Indian wars of
Cortes, of which perhaps you have heard.'
She bowed her head and I went on. 'In those wars I met a man who was
named Teule, but who had another name in former days, so he told me on
his deathbed some two years ago.'
'What name?' she asked in a low voice.
'Thomas Wingfield.'
Now Lily moaned aloud, and in her turn caught at the pales to save
herself from falling.
'I deemed him dead these eighteen years,' she gasped; 'drowned in the
Indian seas where his vessel foundered.'
'I have heard say that he was shipwrecked in those seas, senora, but he
escaped death and fell among the Indians, who made a god of him and gave
him the daughter of their king in marriage,' and I paused.
She shivered, then said in a hard voice, 'Continue, sir; I listen to
you.'
'My friend Teule took the part of the Indians in the wars, as being
the husband of one of their princesses he must do in honour, and fought
bravely for them for many years.
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