"Did the Dona Rosa confide her share of the secret to any one?
Those priests and those doctors, you know--?"

"She died without speaking."

"Then it rests between you and me?"

"It does, unless you have babbled."

"Master!" Sebastian drew himself up and there was real dignity in
his black face.

"Understand, my whole fortune is there--everything, even to the
deeds of patent for the plantations. If I thought there was danger
of your betraying me I would have your tongue pulled out and your
eyes torn from their sockets."

The black man spoke with a simplicity that carried conviction.
"You have seen me tested. You know I am faithful. But, master,
this secret is a great burden for my old shoulders, and I have
been thinking--Times are unsettled, Don Esteban, and death comes
without warning. You are known to be the richest man in this
province and these government officials are robbers. Suppose--I
should be left alone? What then?"

The planter considered for a moment. "They are my countrymen, but
a curse on them," he said, finally. "Well, when my children are
old enough to hold their tongues they will have to be told. If I'm
gone, you shall be the one to tell them. Now leave me; this is no
time to speak of such things."