Part 21 (1/2)

The patio was lighted up for the occasion, if not with the brilliancy which Teresa desired, yet sufficiently well to display the beauty of the delicate Moorish architecture, the graceful columns and horse-shoe arches, the exquisite carving, and the rich hues of flowers cl.u.s.tering around the fountain, no longer silent, nor bearing the marks of decay.

Pa.s.smore looked around him with admiration, but with something of the feeling of the boor in the story who found that the stranger to whom he had shown scant courtesy was a prince in disguise. Aguilera making up accounts at the desk, and Aguilera doing the honours of his n.o.ble mansion, seemed to the manufacturer to be two different beings. Peter Pa.s.smore was not at his ease, and all the less so because of his imperfect knowledge of the language of his entertainers. His Spanish was seldom correct and never fluent, and the manufacturer was not devoid of that shyness which belongs to our national character, and which makes the Briton fear to compromise himself by committing some breach of etiquette in a foreign land, with whose customs he is but imperfectly acquainted. Pa.s.smore greatly missed his usual interpreter Lucius.

”I thought that I should have met Lepine here,” Mr. Pa.s.smore observed to his host.

”I cannot imagine what detains my friend,” said Alcala; ”I have expected him here this last hour. Lepine never fails to keep an appointment.”

”I never knew him late but once,” observed Pa.s.smore, attempting to keep up conversation in his broken and most ungrammatical Spanish. ”It was on the evening before you killed--I mean to say, when you were killed--no, that's not exactly the thing--I beg your pardon, senor, for bringing up so awkward a subject,” stammered forth the clumsy Briton, seeing the cloud that for an instant pa.s.sed over the bright happy face of Alcala's sister.

Diego now appeared with a tray covered with the fruits of Andalusia, and other elegant but inexpensive dainties. But Teresa would suffer no hands but her own to have the honour of bearing the goblet of gold, filled with the wine of Xeres. Proud as if she carried a monarch's...o...b..and sceptre, the old retainer of the Aguileras brought in the family heirloom. Teresa was almost satisfied by the manufacturer's look of surprise, as, after taking a draught of the wine, he retained the goblet for some seconds in his hold, to examine before he returned it.

Peter Pa.s.smore was more puzzled than ever by the late conduct of the possessor of such a magnificent piece of plate.

”Is that pure gold?” inquired Pa.s.smore, curiosity getting the better of politeness.

Alcala, by a slight movement of the head, gave an affirmative reply.

Teresa was offended by the doubt implied by the question, and muttered to herself, ”Does the Inglesito take it for a bit of his own worthless iron?”

”I suppose, Don Alcala de Aguilera,” observed Pa.s.smore after a pause, ”that you will scarcely care to take service again?” The question would, we may hope, have been more delicately put, but for the speaker's difficulty in expressing himself in Spanish.

This was too much for the endurance of Teresa; her indignation and disgust overcame even her sense of decorum.

”Take service!” she repeated, every wrinkle in her face appearing to quiver with pa.s.sion; ”is such a word spoken to the ill.u.s.trious caballero, Don Alcala de Aguilera?”

Alcala quieted his retainer by a gesture of the hand; and then, turning to his late employer, thus calmly replied to his question,--

”I am a.s.suredly going to take service, senor, but of a different kind from that to which you refer. I am preparing myself, with my friend's kind aid, for work in a sphere where I shall deem it an honour to hold the lowest place. I hope, ere long, to become a teacher where I have so lately become a learner, and to give myself to the ministry of the gospel in my native Andalusia.”

Pa.s.smore but half understood the reply of the Spaniard, but he asked for no explanation of what might have been almost equally incomprehensible to the worldly man had it been spoken in English.

Lucius Lepine, breathless with the speed at which he had come, at this instant burst into the patio. The eagerness of his manner, the animation of his look, showed him to be the bearer of tidings, and at once riveted on the young Englishman the attention of all.

”Pardon me, senorita,----and you, Alcala,” gasped forth the guest who had so unceremoniously rushed into the court; ”I have earned forgiveness for my delay for the sake of the news which I bring. Prim is in Spain--”

Diego could not suppress a triumphant viva.

”He has met with the evangelist Cabrera at the town of Algeciras----”

With intense interest Alcala bent forward to listen, while the breathless narrator went on.

”Cabrera had an interview with the chief who is now the foremost man in the State--”

”What said the general?” asked Alcala, with mingled anxiety and hope.

”Prim said to Cabrera, 'Are you of those who were prosecuted by the late Government as being bad religionists?'--'We are,' replied our n.o.ble evangelist.--'Then I have to tell you,' said the chief, '_that you may enter Spain with your Bible under your arm_.'”[24]

There was a louder _viva_ from Diego. But Alcala did not speak; he had sunk on his knees, and was breathing forth from the depths of his soul a thanksgiving for the glorious sun of life and light that was rising upon his beloved Spain.