" He came forward and
picked up the newspaper which had fallen from his mother's lap. "I
learned," his hand fell on his father's shoulder, "that I am an
American."
"Benito!" said his mother quickly.
"I am Don Roberto's son, as well as thine, remember, madre mia!" he
spoke with unusual gentleness. "Even with Sanchez, Vasquez and Guerrero
at my side in battle, I did not shoot to kill. Something said within,
'These men are brothers. They are of the clan of Don Roberto, of thy
father.' So I shot to miss. And when the commandante, Senor Hull,
dismissed me with kind words--he who might have hanged me as a
traitor--my heart was full of love for all his people. And contrition.
Mother, you will forgive? You, who have taught me all the pride of the
Hidalgo. For I must say the truth, to you and everyone...." He knelt at
her feet, impressing a kiss of love and reverence upon her
outstretched hand.
"Rise, my son," she said, tremulously. "You are right, and it is well."
She smiled. "Who am I to say my boy is no Americano? I, who wed the best
and noblest of them all."
There was a little silence. Inez and Don Adrian, returning, paused a
moment, half dismayed. "Come, my children," said Anita Windham.
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