"Gentle or simple," said the girl, "she died in defence of her honor, like the noblest, the best. This for thee, good sister," she whispered, bending down and kissing the pale forehead. "And may I do the like when my time comes. Thou shouldst be proud of her, my Alvarado," she said, looking up at him. "See!" she cried suddenly as the resemblance, which was indeed strong between them, struck her. "Thou hast her face. Her white hair was once golden like thine. He tells the truth. Oh, sir, for Christ's sake, have pity upon us!"
A messenger came staggering toward them across the woods.
"Master Hornigold," he cried.
"Ay, ay."
"We've taken the town. The Captain wants you and your prisoners. You'll find him in the guard room. Oh, ho, there's merry times to-night in La Guayra! All hell's let loose, and we are devils." He laughed boisterously and drunkenly as he spoke and lurched backward over the sands.
"We must be gone," said Hornigold. "Rise, mistress. Come, sir."
"But this lady," urged Alvarado—his lips could scarcely form the unfamiliar word "mother"—"and the good priest? You will not leave them here?"
"The rising tide will bear them out to sea."
"A moment—by your leave," said Alvarado, stepping toward the dead. Assisted by Mercedes, for he was still bound, he stooped down and touched his lips to those of the dead woman, whispering a prayer as he did so. Rising to his feet he cried:
"But my father—who is he—who was he?"