He turned as he spoke, and looked at Estella, who met his glance quietly. Her repose of manner struck him afresh. Here was a woman having that air of decision which exacts respect alike from men and women. Seen thus, with the more vivacious Julia at her side, Estella gained suddenly in moral strength and depth--suggesting a steady fire in contrast with a flickering will-o'-the-wisp blown hither and thither on every zephyr. Yet Julia Barenna would pa.s.s anywhere as a woman of will and purpose.

Julia had risen, and was moving towards the exit of the little grove in which they found themselves. Conyngham had never been seated.

'Are the violets in bloom, Estella? I must see them,' said the visitor. 'We have none at home, where all is dry and parched.'

'So bad for the nerves--what suffering!--such a dry soil that one cannot sleep at night,' murmured Madame Barenna, preparing to rise from her seat.

Julia and Conyngham naturally led the way. The paths winding in and out among the palms and pepper trees were of a width that allowed two to walk abreast.

'Senorita, I have a letter for you.'

'Not yet--wait!'

Senora Barenna was chattering in her deep husky tones immediately behind them. Julia turned and looked up at the windows of the house, which commanded a full view of the garden. The dwelling rooms were as usual upon the first floor, and the windows were lightly barred with curiously wrought iron. Each window was curtained within with lace and muslin.

The paths wound in and out among the trees, but none of these were large enough to afford a secure screen from the eye of any watcher within the house. There was neither olive nor ilex in the garden to afford shelter with their heavy leaves. Julia and Conyngham walked on, out-distancing the elder lady and Estella. From these many a turn in the path hid them from time to time, but Julia was distrustful of the windows and hesitated, in an agony of nervousness. Conyngham saw that her face was quite colourless, and her teeth closed convulsively over her lower lip. He continued to talk of indifferent topics, but the answers she made were incoherent and broken. The course of true love did not seem to run smooth here.

'Shall I give you the letter? No one can see us, senorita.

Besides, I was informed that it was of no importance except to yourself. You have doubtless had many such before, unless the Spanish gentlemen are blind.'

He laughed and felt in his pocket.

'Yes!' she whispered. 'Quickly--now.'

He gave her the letter in its romantic pink, scented envelope with a half-suppressed smile at her eagerness. Would anybody--would Estella--ever be thus agitated at the receipt of a letter from himself? They were at the lower end of the inclosure, which was divided almost in two by a broader pathway leading from the house to the centre of the garden, where a fountain of Moorish marble formed a sort of carrefour, from which the narrower pathways diverged in all directions.

Descending the steps into the garden from the house were two men, one talking violently, the other seeking to calm him.

'My uncle and the Alcalde--they have seen us from the windows,' said Julia quickly. All her nervousness of manner seemed to have vanished, leaving her concentrated and alert. Some men are thus in warfare--nervous until the rifle opens fire, and then cool and ready.

'Quick!' whispered Julia. 'Let us turn back.'

She wheeled round, and Conyngham did the same.

'Julia!' they heard General Vincente call in his gentle voice.

Julia, who was tearing the pink envelope, took no heed. Within the first covering a second envelope appeared, bearing a longer address.

'Give that to the man whose address it bears, and save me from ruin,' said the girl, thrusting the letter into Conyngham's hand.

She kept the pink envelope.

When, a minute later, they came face to face with General Vincente and his companion, a white-faced, fluttering man of sixty years, Julia Barenna received them with a smile. There are some men who, conscious of their own quickness of resource, are careless of danger, and run into it from mere heedlessness, trusting to good fortune to aid them should peril arise. Frederick Conyngham was one of these. He now suspected that this was no love letter which the man called Larralde had given him in Algeciras.

'Julia,' said the General, 'the Alcalde desires to speak with you.'

Julia bowed with that touch of hauteur which in Spain the n.o.bles ever observe in their manner towards the munic.i.p.al authorities.

'Mr. Conyngham,' continued the General, 'this is our brave Mayor, in whose hands rests the well-being of the people of Ronda.'

'Honoured to meet you,' said Conyngham, holding out his hand with that frankness of manner which he accorded to great and small alike.

The Alcalde, a man of immense importance in his own estimation, hesitated before accepting it.

'General,' he said, turning and bowing very low to Senora Barenna and Estella, who now joined them, 'General, I leave you to explain to your niece the painful duties of my office.'

The General smiled and raised a deprecating shoulder.

'Well, my dear,' he said kindly to Julia, 'it appears that our good Alcalde has news of a letter which is at present pa.s.sing from hand to hand in Andalusia. It is a letter of some importance. Our good Mayor, who was at the window a minute ago, saw Mr. Conyngham hand you a letter. Between persons who only met in this garden five minutes ago such a transaction had a strange air. Our good friend, who is all zeal for Spain and the people of Ronda, merely asks you if his eyes deceived him. It is a matter at which we shall all laugh presently over a lemonade--is it not so? A trifle, eh?' He pa.s.sed his handkerchief across his moustache, and looked affectionately at his niece.

'A letter!' exclaimed Julia. 'Surely the Alcalde presumes. He takes too much upon himself.' The official stepped forward.

'Senorita,' he said, 'I must be allowed to take that risk. Did this gentleman give you a letter three minutes ago?'

Julia laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

'Yes.'

'May I ask the nature of the letter?'

'It was a love letter.'

Conyngham bit his lip and looked at Estella.

The Alcalde looked doubtful, with the cunning lips of a cheap country lawyer.

'A love letter from a gentleman you have never seen before?' he said with a forced laugh.

'Pardon me, Senor Alcalde, this gentleman travelled in the same ship with my mother and myself from Bordeaux to Algeciras, and he saved my life.'

She cast a momentary glance at Conyngham; which would have sealed his fate had the fiery Mr. Larralde been there to see it. The Prefect paused, somewhat taken aback. There was a momentary silence, and every moment gave Julia and Conyngham time to think.

Then the Alcalde turned to Conyngham.

'It will give me the greatest pleasure,' he said, 'to learn that I have been mistaken. I have only to ask this gentleman's confirmation of what the senorita has said. It is true, senor, that you surrept.i.tiously handed to the Senorita Barenna a letter expressing your love?'

'Since the senorita has done me the honour of confessing it, I must ask you to believe it,' answered Conyngham steadily and coldly.

CHAPTER IX. A WAR OF WIT.

'La discretion est l'art du mensonge.'

The Alcalde blew out his cheeks and looked at General Vincente.

Senora Barenna would with small encouragement have thrown herself into Conyngham's arms; but she received none whatever, and instead frowned at Julia. Estella was looking haughtily at her father, and would not meet Conyngham's glance.

'I feel sure,' said General Vincente in his most conciliating manner, 'that my dear Julia will see the necessity of satisfying the good Alcalde by showing him the letter--with, of course, the consent of my friend Conyngham.'

He laughed, and slipped his hand within Conyngham's arm.