elaborately embroidered, and bearing the initials, 'M. De la C.,' and a note in a neat little hand, but indifferent English: 'Don't think too much hardly of your little Manuel, who will never forget that you were his friend and benefactor, and will pray for you always. He did not wished for leave you, and some time you will know why he did. He would not if he could help it.—Manuela de la Cruz.'
"I was too much occupied with other thoughts and considerations then to pay much attention to this, but I felt glad to learn that Manuel was not ungrateful, and was sorry—probably ashamed—for having left me so abruptly.
"After my great loss, I was much alone, and my mind reverted to the subject many times; and the more I thought of it the more satisfied I became that there was some mystery at the bottom of the whole affair which I had never fathomed. Two more years passed away, and I heard no more of Manuel and his sister. I drank at the club, gambled now and then in a small way at cards, and, in short, tried—as lonely, disappointed men will try—to forget the past, kill time in the present, and avoid thinking of the future.
"One day I was out riding on the San Bruno road, in company with a friend. We had both been drinking a little, but only enough to make us feel like driving a trifle more recklessly than usual. As we were coming home along the bay beyond the Seven-mile House, we came up with a party who had also a fast team, and a trial of speed ensued.
