away. But by strangers, for Juan himself was prostrated. Recovering after a few days, he found little Frederico crouching by his side, they two the only occupants of the once beautiful home of Peralta.

After a few months the pestilence had spent itself, and the people began to return. But a strange city it looked, and men wept as they looked into empty houses and streets full of rubbish which had been thrown away in hasty flight.

But the deserted houses began again to be opened. Into the churches gathered again the people, masses to be purchaseri and said for the many dear departed, confessions to be made and penance to be worked out. The Church took possession of homes where there were none to protect. The house of Peralta was one. It was renovated and refitted for a boys' school, to be in charge of a new priest. "Father Lorenzo," just from the City of Mexico. Juan was to continue his ministrations and Frederico was to become a member of the boys' school. His voice, now recognized as a talent, placed him at lead in the boys' choir in the big cathedral.

"La vos de un Angel" (The voice of an Angel) men called it, for it was a wonderful voice, and they gathered into the

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cathedral to hear it. Soft and sweet, yet clear, though far away, it sounded, as if an echo from heaven above. Then bursting forth, the music filled all space, till listeners, for delight, could no longer keep their seats, and, looking up to see the singer, they saw only a lad, with thin, small face, but whose big, dark eyes looked far away.

CHAPTER V.

A VERY STRANGE THING.

But a very strange thing had happened. Dona Alicia had been removed by strangers' hands, who laid her upon the ground among the dead, and quickly made their own escape. Later on came others more merciful, who were preparing to lay her away, when they saw signs of life.

"Por Dios! Que es este? (What is this?) She still lives. A woman of high rank, too! Is there no one who will have pity?" and they lifted her to the nearest dwelling.

"We know not who this may be, but will ye have mercy and care for her, that she may yet return to those who mourn her?"

And live she did, but it was weeks before she cared to ask where she was, or to ask aught about her friends or family. Then she was told that the family of Fernando Peralta was no more, either dead they were, or had left the city, her benefactors knew not which. Her home, too, they told her, had become the new academy for boys.

The jewels found about her person re

paid these Good Samaritans and also paid her passage, by stage, to the Hacienda Roja, where merciful strangers had consented to her stay for a while, which con.tinued, for the inmates of the hacienda soon learned to love the gentle, beautiful woman, whose face was young, but whose hair was white. No one knew other name than Dona Alicia. But the children loved to gather about and listen to her stories of a far-away country-beautiful Spain, she called it-where ladies wore rich silks and jewels every day, and walked on soft carpets; where knights in velvet garments, and with white plumes in their hats, walked beside them or kneeled at their feet; where the houses were great towered castles, and the cups from which they drank were made of gold and silver. Sometimes she told them of two beautiful children, a boy and a girl, whose mother loved them tenderly, but she never spoke their names. She never laughed, but her smile was so gentle that even the fretful baby, whom no one else could quiet, loved to lie in her arms and look up into her face. Beautiful embroideries, too, she stitched, which they took into the city to sell in payment for their kindness.

"Why do you never go with us into the city?" inquired the children. "It is love