AM glad to find you alone,” spoke Mr. Robles, as he advanced into the subdued light of Mrs. Darlington’s boudoir.

She was seated at her escritoire. Around her were letters lying open for answer, others sealed and ready for the mail, also sundry books of account which indicated that the chatelaine of La Siesta was a business woman who paid attention to the running of her household and the management of her estate.

“Always so pleased to see you,” she replied, as she rose to give her visitor welcome.

“Pray, keep your seat, Mrs. Darlington. You form an attractive picture—the lady who is not too much of a lady to neglect her correspondence and her business affairs. And it is about some business matters that I have come to talk with you this evening.”

She smiled pleasedly over the compliment paid in the old-fashioned courtly style of the true Spanish grandee. She herself always suggested the old-time, old-world lady of fashion—one belonging to the old lace and sweet lavender era that has so nearly passed away.

“Business matters?” echoed Mrs. Darlington. “That sounds quite serious. We have had no cause to talk business for years and years. La Siesta has certainly justified its name.”

“But even the most pleasant siesta must in time come to an end,” he replied with a grave smile. “There are things in this world that must be accomplished—calls of duty that interfere sadly with continuous repose. I am leaving tonight on a journey—perhaps a long journey,” he added slowly and thoughtfully.

“Oh, going abroad? The wanderlust again? That’s too bad. We shall all miss you so much.” She spoke the words with real concern in her tone and in her eyes.

“Not exactly the wanderlust,” he responded. “But there is a certain task I must perform. And it takes me away—far away from your delightful La Siesta.”

“And for a long time?”

“That will be decided by events. I shall write you a long letter when once I am on the ocean. Meanwhile there are certain documents I wish to leave in your charge, my good kind friend.”

He drew the packet from the breast pocket of his coat. “They are important papers, and I wish them to be locked in your safe.”

“Under seal, I see,” she remarked, indicating the big circle of wax that closed the cover.

“Yes, sealed with my signet,” he answered, touching the ring on his finger. “But all the same I wish you to know the nature of their contents. That is why I have sought this little private talk.”

Silently she settled herself to listen, and he went on:

“You are aware that many years ago I sold out all my interests in Spain—lands and flocks and mines. Well, except for the money I used in building and furnishing my home, I invested the whole amount so realized in British Government bonds. But not in my own name. They stand in the names of Merle Farnsworth and Grace Darlington.”

Mrs. Darlington showed some surprise.

“Merle, of course. But why Grace, Mr. Robles? I need not tell you that she is already well provided for.”

“That I fully understand. But I preferred it so. To me both children were very dear, and have always continued to be very dear. There was more than a sufficiency to divide. I wished them to share my patrimony, even though the one might have a greater claim on me than the other. But it was precisely, to guard against such a thought occurring to the mind of any outsider that I have treated Merle and Grace exactly alike. The secret that Merle is my daughter is known only to you and Tia Teresa and me, and, as I have always wished, it must be kept from Merle herself and from all others—now, more than ever,” he added after a little pause.

“I have never sought to pry into this mystery,” replied Mrs. Darlington. “You had valid reasons for it, I well understood. But I was glad for the wee baby’s sake to take her to my heart—the child of the dearest friend of my girlhood days. And it was nice, too, for her to have her mother’s maiden name—Merle Farnsworth. So, from the very first, I loved her just as much as my own baby, Grace.”

“That I know,” said Robles, gratefully touching her hand. “I can never adequately thank you for the mother love you have so generously bestowed on my child. And I have always been grateful, too, for the chivalrous manner in which you have never sought to have me explain my actions in this matter—my virtual separation from the daughter whom, while hiding our relationship, I have loved all through her young life with passionate devotion.”

Mr. Robles was deeply moved. He bowed his head and covered his eyes with his hand. In sympathy, Mrs. Darlington also was greatly affected.

“You have been the best of fathers to Merle,” she said in a trembling voice, “even though Merle little dreams of what she really means to your life. But oh, Mr. Robles, how often have I not pitied you when I have seen you restraining in her presence the natural impulses of your heart!”

“It was my duty,” he replied, regaining his composure by stern self-command and sitting erect again. “My bounden duty to her,” he added, resolutely. “So, as you have so kindly done before, we shall leave that subject alone. You call it a mystery. Be it so. Just let it abide a mystery to the end. Now, Mrs. Darlington,” he went on in a changed tone, “please lock up these papers. If I ever want them again I shall come to you. But if anything should happen to me, the seal is to be broken. You are my trustee. But there is no troublesome will to prove and execute. As I have already indicated, all the property I die possessed of, all the property that is inalienably and rightfully mine, including my home on the hill—everything is already apportioned between Merle and Grace, and stands in their names by a deed that dates back almost to their days of infancy.”

“It is unheard-of generosity,” protested Mrs. Darlington. “I mean so far as Grace is concerned.”

“Not another word, I beg of you. I have already given valid reasons besides those of affection and gratitude. Now, Mrs. Darlington, let me see you lock up these documents, and my mind will be at rest.”

Without further speech she took the packet of papers from his hand, crossed the room, and, standing before a safe inset into the wall and already open, deposited the papers in a little drawer. Then she swung back the safe door, and the click of the combination as she turned the knob told that her visitor’s wishes had been fully complied with. Slowly she returned to her seat at the desk.

“Thank you,” said Mr. Robles, pressing her hand.

“Then I am not to ask why you are leaving us tonight?” enquired Mrs. Darlington.

“Please not. I just came to you, as I have many times done before, to speak the little word—Adios. And it has always been spoken brightly between us, my dear friend. For have I not returned again and again like the proverbial bad penny?” he continued with a smile.

“And so it will be yet again, I hope,” she replied. “Bad pennies of your kind, Mr. Robles, are better than minted gold. And you must think of the young people. Engagements should not be too long. Everything is settled so far as Dick and Merle are concerned—with your full approval?”

“With my fullest approval, and to my great joy and peace of mind.”

“Well, and you know, too, that it is just the same old story as regards Chester Munson and my little girl.”

“Munson has so informed me. He wanted my congratulations on his good fortune. Chester Munson is certainly a fine fellow, and Grace could have made no better choice for the bestowal of her love. Again I am filled with happiness at the turn events have taken.”

“But if there are to be wedding bells for four, their peal will not be so joyous if you are absent, my dear Mr. Robles.”

“I shall try to be present,” he replied, with a little wistful smile. “Who knows? Wouldn’t it be fine if the wedding bells were to ring in Spain?”

“No, no, my friend. You forget that all four are young Americans. The honeymoons in Spain, if you like. But the weddings in California, please.”

“So be it,” he answered. “Then if I cannot get back for the wedding bells, we may have a family reunion during the honeymoons.” He laughed almost gaily as he rose. “Now, where are our young Americans? I wish to say good-bye to them, too.”

“Where Dick Willoughby is, I cannot say. But he is safe—you still assure me of his safety, Mr. Robles?”

“Assuredly. And I have good news for our dear Merle. Tomorrow Willoughby will be free, with every suspicion removed from his name.”

“Oh, that will be glad tidings indeed for Merle—for both the girls.”

“Then let us take the news to them. Where shall we find them?”

“As usual, I fancy, in their favorite cosy corner. And Mr. Munson is here, too. He is to have luncheon with us. He said you had given him a day off from his onerous library duties.”

“Quite correct. I told him I would meet him here, for I have a message for him as well. Come then, let us join the young people.”

Again, like the courtly hidalgo, he presented a hand to his hostess and led her from the room.