and although part of the money he hid was wrung from the toil of
slaves and the traffic in their bodies, much of it was clean
enough, and in time the earth purified it all. Since his acts made
so deep an impress, and since the treasure he left played so big a
part in the destinies of those who came after him, it is well that
some account of these matters should be given.

The story, please remember, is an old one; it has been often told,
and in the telling and retelling it is but natural that a certain
glamour, a certain tropical extravagance, should attach to it,
therefore you should make allowance for some exaggeration, some
accretions due to the lapse of time. In the main, however, it is
well authenticated and runs parallel to fact.

Dona Rosa Varona lived barely long enough to learn that she had
given birth to twins. Don Esteban, whom people knew as a grim man,
took the blow of his sudden bereavement as became one of his
strong fiber. Leaving the priest upon his knees and the doctor
busied with the babies, he strode through the house and out into
the sunset, followed by the wails of the slave women. From the
negro quarters came the sound of other and even louder
lamentations, for Dona Rosa had been well loved and the news of
her passing had spread quickly.

Don Esteban was at heart a selfish man, and now, therefore, he
felt a sullen, fierce resentment mingled with his grief. What
trick was this? he asked himself. What had he done to merit such
misfortune? Had he not made rich gifts to the Church? Had he not
gone on foot to the shrine of Our Lady of Montserrate with a
splendid votive offering--a pair of eardrops, a necklace, and a