The twins, Esteban and Rosa, developed into healthy children and became the pride of Sebastian and his daughter, into whose care they had been given.  As for Evangelina, the young negress, she grew tall and strong and handsome, until she was the finest slave girl in the neighborhood.  Whenever Sebastian looked at her he thanked God for his happy circumstances.

Then, one day, Don Esteban Varona remarried, and the Dona Isabel, who had been a famous Habana beauty, came to live at the quinta.  The daughter of impoverished parents, she had heard and thought much about the mysterious treasure of La Cumbre.

There followed a period of feasting and entertainment, of music and merrymaking.  Spanish officials, prominent civilians of Matanzas and the countryside, drove up the hill to welcome Don Esteban’s bride.  But before the first fervor of his honeymoon cooled the groom began to fear that he had made a serious mistake.  Dona Isabel, he discovered, was both vain and selfish.  Not only did she crave luxury and display, but with singular persistence she demanded to know all about her husband’s financial affairs.

Now Don Esteban was no longer young; age had soured him with suspicion, and when once he saw himself as the victim of a mercenary marriage he turned bitterly against his wife.  Her curiosity he sullenly resented, and he unblushingly denied his possession of any considerable wealth.  In fact, he tried with malicious ingenuity to make her believe him a poor man.  But Isabel was not of the sort to be readily deceived.  Finding her arts and coquetries of no avail, she flew into a rage, and a furious quarrel ensued—­the first of many.  For the lady could not rest without knowing all there was to know about the treasure.  Avaricious to her finger-tips, she itched to weigh those bags of precious metal and yearned to see those jewels burning upon her bosom.  Her mercenary mind magnified their value many times, and her anger at Don Esteban’s obstinacy deepened to a smoldering hatred.

She searched the quinta, of course, whenever she had a chance, but she discovered nothing—­with the result that the mystery began to engross her whole thought.  She pried into the obscurest corners, she questioned the slaves, she lay awake at night listening to Esteban’s breathing, in the hope of surprising his secret from his dreams.  Naturally such a life was trying to the husband, but as his wife’s obsession grew his determination to foil her only strengthened.  Outwardly, of course, the pair maintained a show of harmony, for they were proud and they occupied a position of some consequence in the community.  But their private relations went from bad to worse.  At length a time came when they lived in frank enmity; when Isabel never spoke to Esteban except in reproach or anger, and when Esteban unlocked his lips only to taunt his wife with the fact that she had been thwarted despite her cunning.

In most quarters, as time went on, the story of the Varona treasure was forgotten, or at least put down as legendary.  Only Isabel, who, in spite of her husband’s secretiveness, learned much, and Pancho Cueto, who kept his own account of the annual income from the business, held the matter in serious remembrance.  The overseer was a patient man; he watched with interest the growing discord at the quinta and planned to profit by it, should occasion offer.