"My daughters?" said the old man, vaguely. "Oh, yes! nice little girls. And my boy Harry. Did you see Harry? Fine little fellow, Harry."
"I am glad to hear that you are better," said Don Caesar, hastily, "and that the air of our country does you no harm. God benefit you, senor," he added, with a profoundly reverential gesture, dropping unconsciously into the religious habit of his youth. "May he protect you, and bring you back to health and happiness!"
"Happiness?" said Slinn, amazedly. "I am happy—very happy! I have everything I want: good air, good food, good clothes, pretty little children, kind friends—" He smiled benignantly at Don Caesar. "God is very good to me!"
Indeed, he seemed very happy; and his face, albeit crowned with white hair, unmarked by care and any disturbing impression, had so much of satisfied youth in it that the grave features of his questioner made him appear the elder. Nevertheless, Don Caesar noticed that his eyes, when withdrawn from him, sought the hillside with the same visionary abstraction.
"It is a fine view, Senor Esslinn," said Don Caesar.
"It is a beautiful view, sir," said Slinn, turning his happy eyes upon him for a moment, only to rest them again on the green slope opposite.
"Beyond that hill which you are looking at—not far, Senor Esslinn—I live. You shall come and see me there—you and your family."
"You—you—live there?" stammered the invalid, with a troubled expression—the first and only change to the complete happiness that had hitherto suffused his face. "You—and your name is—is Ma—"
"Alvarado," said Don Caesar, gently. "Caesar Alvarado."
"You said Masters," said the old man, with sudden querulousness.