In spite of my English name—Jack Crawford—and my English blood, I have never set foot on that famous little island in the North Sea, and now it is quite unlikely that I ever shall do so.
ppeared instantly; even with this added grief she would not let people know how she suffered. Only as her hand rested on mine I felt it tremble.
"Let it be so, José," she said simply. "I leave it to you."
Then she thanked the mountaineer who had ridden so far to break the terrible news to her, and the two men went away, leaving us two together.
"Mother," I said, "must I really leave you?"
For answer she clasped me in her arms and kissed my face passionately.
"But you will come back, my boy!" she cried; "you will come back. Now that your father is no more, you are my only hope, the only joy of my life. O Juan, Juan! it is hard to let you go; but José is right--there is no other way. I will be brave, dear, and wait patiently for your return. Follow in your father's footsteps. Do the right, and fear not whatever may happen; be brave and gentle, and filled with love for your country, even as he was. Keep his memory green in your heart, and you cannot stray from the
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