"I have become acquainted with some facts in this case which may not interest you as a lawyer, Don Arturo, but which affect me as a woman. When I have told you them, you will tell me--who knows?--that they do not alter the legal aspect of my--my father's claim. You will perhaps laugh at me for my resolution. But I have given you so much trouble, that it is only fair you should know it is not merely caprice that governs me--that you should know why your visit here is a barren one; why you--the great advocate--have been obliged to waste your valuable time with my poor friend, Donna Maria, for nothing." Arthur was too much pre-occupied to notice the peculiarly feminine significance with which the Donna dwelt upon this latter sentence--a fact that would not otherwise have escaped his keen observation. He slightly stroked his brown moustache, and looked out of the window with masculine patience. "It is not caprice, Don Arturo. But I am a woman and on orphan! You know my history! The only friend I had has left me here alone the custodian of these vast estates. Listen to me, Don Arturo, and you will understand, or at least forgive, my foolish interest in the people who contest this claim. For what has happened to them, to _her_, might have happened to me, but for the blessed Virgin's mediation." "To _her_--who is _she_?" asked Arthur, quietly. "Pardon! I had forgotten you do not know. Listen. You have heard that this grant is occupied by a man and his wife--a certain Gabriel Conroy. Good! You have heard that they have made no claim to a legal title to the land, except through pre-emption. Good. That is not true, Don Arturo!" Arthur turned to her in undisguised surprise. "This is new matter; this _is_ a legal point of some importance." "Who knows?" said Donna Dolores, indifferently. "It is not in regard of that that I speak. The claim is this. The Dr. Devarges, who also possesses a grant for the same land, made a gift of it to the sister of this Gabriel. Do you comprehend?" She paused, and fixed her eyes on Arthur. "Perfectly," said Arthur, with his gaze still fixed on the window; "it accounts for the presence of this Gabriel on the land. But is she living? Or, if not, is he her legally constituted heir? That is the question, and--pardon me if I suggest again--a purely legal and not a sentimental question. Was this woman who has disappeared--this sister--this sole and only legatee--a married woman--had she a child? Because that is the heir." The silence that followed this question was so protracted that Arthur turned towards Donna Dolores. She had apparently made some sign to her aged waiting-woman, who was bending over her, between Arthur and the sofa. In a moment, however, the venerable handmaid withdrew, leaving them alone.