It was my mother's mantilla which I knew, and yet did not know, because I always saw it set daintily upon her head.

In a moment it had come home to me, and with the knowledge a keen and sickening dread.

Why had this man followed my mother, and why did her mantilla lie thus upon the ground?
I turned and sped like a deer back to where I had seen the lace.

All the way the footprints went before me.

Now I was there.