mother! [_They embrace and weep on each others' necks._
  (_On recovering._)        I did half divine
  The truth from the beginning of thy tale,
  But at the name of Father Miguel
  My heart did smite so loud against my ribs
  As like to burst them; e'en as were it charged
  From Heaven with joyful tidings to my soul. I ever knew that man in some strange way
  Was mixed up in the mystery of my birth. GIP. Q. 'Twas he that christened thee, abandoned by
  Thy all unworthy father. He that holds
  Proofs that our marriage valid is by law,
  Without which proofs thou'dst been born a bastard,
  A stray, an outcast, slave to this world's scorn. The Lady Angela, that kind, good soul,
  Whose counsellor and priest Don Miguel was,
  Knew all thy history, and pitied thee. She was thy godmother while at the font. Don Miguel marked thee with the Christian's sign,
  And being a widow lady without heirs,
  And rich withal, she straightway did resolve
  T'adopt thee, and 'neath Father Miguel's care
  To have thee educated as a priest. Poor pious soul! But thou know'st best of all
  How thine own wilful temper at the school--
  Thy wild, impatient, roving gipsy blood,--
  Did give small promise for a like career,
  Which Father Miguel seeing from the first
  (Though not until repeated efforts made
  To tame thy stubborn nature proved in vain)
  Did finally, now weary of his charge,
  Abandon thee unto thine own wild ways,
  Doling the money out from time to time,
  Till thou should'st come of age. That time has come. D. PAS. Ha! ha! I well do call to mind the time
  When Father Miguel, with church dogmas sought
  To warp my stubborn brain, and if I asked
  Him to explain some of that lore he taught,
  And fain would burden my poor skull withal,
  Then straight it was a mystery. I must
  Have faith, he said; nor ask the reason why. Against this answer my young soul rebelled. And long and fierce the battles that we fought. He called me insubordinate and rude. Said I lacked discipline, humility,
  That I must subjugate my intellect
  Unto the church's dictates, threatening me
  With purgatory and everlasting fire
  Unless I thought as he did, branding me
  As atheist, Jew, or heretic, whilst I
  Called him a fool. Then losing all control
  Over his passions, this good, holy man
  Did raise his hand to strike me, seeing which
  I seized a knife and threw it at his head,
  Leaving a scar upon his cheek; then laughed. As I grew older matters mended not,
  So he sent me to a seminary,
  Thinking to curb my will by discipline;
  But they soon found the worse they treated me
  The worse was I, and so all gave me up. 'Tis years since we have met. We were not formed
  To live together. Greater opposites
  In character Nature ne'er formed from clay. I owe the holy man no grudge; not I. He did his best, I mine to understand him. We were formed differently from our birth. GIP. Q. A wild boy thou wert ever. That is true. I've watched thee oft when thou thought'st me afar. Thou knew'st me not for mother, nor would I
  Unveil the myst'ry of thy parentage,
  Nor bring disgrace on Lady Angela,
  Who had so kindly offered to adopt
  Thee, the poor outcast gipsy's mongrel son,
  And rear him like the proudest of the land. Why should I, with my narrow, selfish love,
  Oppose a barrier to my son's advance,
  Refuse the lady's bounty, and drag down
  My son unto the level of myself. A wand'ring gipsy! Yet I loved thee. Ay,
  I loved thee e'en with more than mother's love. I would that all should love thee. As for those
  Who loved thee not, these I vowed should fear thee. I'ld see thee feared and envied, proud and great
  High up above thy fellows; and for this
  I smothered in my heart all outward show
  Of my affection, and so hid myself. Still, I was near and watched thee day by day
  Expand as the young plant before the sun. And I was happy in my heart of hearts
  To know that thou wert happy, and to know
  I was thy mother, though thou knew'st it not. And so for years I've watched thee, till thine own
  Wild wand'ring nature bid thee roam abroad. 'Twas then for years that I lost sight of thee;
  This also was predicted by the stars,
  And so I gave to thee this gipsy ring
  That I might know thee when we met again. D. PAS. Ay, I do mind me well, when yet a child,
  How once a gipsy gave it me, and bid
  Me wear it ever, and 'twould bring me luck;
  And how I, childlike, straight returned home,
  Pleased with the gift, to show my mother, or
  The lady whom I thought my mother then. But tell me, queen or mother, which thou wilt,
  Why, if as I think, all thy tale be true
  And thou wert really married to Don Diego,
  Knowing the law to be upon thy side,
  Why didst thou not at once set up thy claim
  Of lawful wife, instead of waiting now,
  A score of years and more! Thou could'st have claimed----

  GIP. Q. Thou askest me why I did not avail
  Myself of that protection that the law
  In my case would enforce. I'll tell thee, then. I was, indeed, then counselled so to do
  By Father Miguel and some other friends,
  Who knew that legal marriage was performed;
  But being mindful of the promise made
  Unto my father on his bed of death,
  And having strict confidence in his words,
  Those deep prophetic words which never erred,
  Then finding, too, when I did scan the stars
  Good reason his for bidding me postpone
  My vengeance for a season less ill-starred. D. PAS. What saw'st thou, mother, in the stars to make
  Thee to abandon all thy rightful claims
  And crave the charity of an alien? GIP. Q. I craved no charity. The lady who
  Did stand to thee in lieu of mother, came
  Herself and craved of me permission
  To take thee home and rear thee as her child;
  Which offer I, though with much reluctance,
  At length accepted, ever mindful of
  The brilliant future that the stars foretold. D. PAS. What sign was that that caused thee then such fear? GIP. Q. A star malefic in thy house of life;
  Threatening thee with speedy violent death
  From some traitor's hand. That hand, thy father's. Had I ta'en counsel of well-meaning friends
  And urged my rights, ay, had I moved a step,
  Thy life and mine had dearly paid for it. D. PAS. How this may be, I know not. If the stars
  Do really rule our destinies, or if
  Thy woman's fears but made thee dread contact
  With men in power. Have we not the law? GIP. Q. Justice may be bought. The oppressor's star
  Was then in the ascendant. 'Tis no more. Now mark, and I will show thee how the stars
  Have worked and ripened for my just revenge. Thou knowest well, 'tis now full many years
  I have lost sight of thee, though I have learned
  From Father Miguel thou wast still alive;
  The stars foretold our meeting. Until now
  I've waited for thee, and the stars likewise
  Predicted that almost at the same time
  Another I should meet, whose destiny
  Did figure so in thy young house of life. D. PAS. What! The Lady Inez? GIP. Q.                   Ay, even she. D. PAS.