"But now," said Montoro with a shrug of the shoulders, but betraying more sadness than he wished--"but now, there is little need for thee or any one to question. Now, as thou knowest, I return to my mother, able, indeed, henceforth to keep her and myself in bread; but for the olives and the oil and the wine, well, for my purse's length I will trust that they reach not up to famine prices so long as the dear mother lives." "And where dost thou propose that that same living shall be?" asked Cabrera, with a curious gleam in his eyes, over which the lids were somewhat lowered for concealment. But such care was a little superfluous. Montoro was so taken up with regrets which for once would have their way, that he paid small heed to his companion's looks. He was thinking of his mother's face, and wondering whether he should read any mute reproach for empty-handedness in the sweet eyes that lighted it. But he had heard the question, and he answered it-- "Have I never yet told thee, my Juan, of the humble home I have long since provided for my mother in the little town of El Cuevo? I hope to join her there within the next fortnight, and there I suppose I shall end my days." "And there _I_ suppose that thou'lt do nothing of the sort," responded the captain with a downright bluntness, that acted as a wholesome tonic to his friend. "Why, Toro, I suppose not that yon wretched little town of El Cuevo is big enough to hold above half-a-score of beggars altogether. How, in the name of St. Jago, dost suppose that, with thy wide sympathies, thou wilt be able to exist in such a narrow field?" This was a new way of putting the matter, and a very clever one for that moment; and Montoro broke out into a hearty laugh, at sound of which Juan de Cabrera took himself back to the duties of his ship with a growling mutter to himself. "Well, at any rate, that is some crumb of consolation to a fellow, perhaps, for having to keep a secret that seems sometimes to be burning a regular hole in my brain." Happily, before that seeming grew into reality Cabrera's vessel arrived safely at the port of Cadiz. Shortly after that he reached the Court of King Charles in safety, and got comfortably rid of that burden of mystery which he found so trying. Better still, he was authorized to have the telling of it to the one it so greatly concerned--his comrade, Montoro de Diego. He also was empowered to tell it after his own desire,--bit by bit,--and found as much satisfaction in this telling, or nearly so, as in telling over his own number of ounces of gold, which proved a goodly sum in spite of his usual honesty, and general carelessness as to golden or any other gains that had not fun for a foundation. CHAPTER XL. _REINSTATED._ "Adios, my friend," said Montoro, a couple of weeks after landing on Spanish soil. "_Adios_ for the night, for I am sleepy," returned Cabrera. "But as yet, _adios_ for no longer."