Her story was not an uncommon one, though it took a long time in telling; for she dwelt with painful emphasis upon some parts, and talked so incoherently upon others, that Harding was confirmed in his suspicion that her mind was, upon that subject at least, quite unsettled. She had been induced by the late Colonel Eltorena to go to his house, as his wife, under a promise that the actual ceremony should be performed by the first priest who came from Monclova or Saltillo. It was a remote district in which they lived, and they might have to wait for months before the expected visit would be made; and knowing this, and at the earnest solicitation of her lover, she consented to an arrangement, which was not so uncommon as it should have been. Wherever the common law prevails as it does in the United States, this would have been a legal marriage; and she solemnly protested that she so considered it upon the representation of the colonel himself. Two or three priests had passed that way within a few months; but upon various pretexts the ceremony was postponed. At last, after about six months, the Colonel went to the city of Mexico on a visit, and returned with a wife! “The woman,” said the narrator, “who now calls herself La Señora Eltorena!” _She_, the deceived and betrayed, was generously offered an asylum in the _rancho_, where she had lived ever since; and six months after her ejectment from the _hacienda_ by “the proud English woman,” her son was born. For eighteen years she had been suing for her rights; but superior influence with the corrupt judges of that unhappy land had foiled all her efforts; and in the meantime, she had lived in plain view of the _hacienda_, determined never to lose sight of her object, until she saw her son in possession. She had never been inside of its walls: “but,” said she, “I _will_ be there—and soon! May God give me revenge upon the sorceress, who stole away my rights!” “It is a very hard case,” said Harding, when she had finished, “but I fear like many other wrongs, it has no remedy.” “There is one remedy,” said she, significantly, “when all others fail.” And drawing aside the end of her _mantilla_, she disclosed the hilt of a long, keen dagger. She drew it forth, ran her finger along its edge, smiled faintly, and replaced it in its sheath. “Well, well,” said Harding, turning away, “I am warned at all events, and will take care that the count is enlightened, also. I must speed upon my mission. Good morning.”